#just being away from it all is good for me

[puppppppppy]

wait for me

[yslgreen]

Fucking Disappointment

Pairing: dbf!Joel x afab!reader - 10k.

SUMMARY: You’ve always disliked Joel Miller, your dad��s grumpy friend and neighbor. Growing up, he was nothing but short responses and cold glares, never bothering to hide how little he cared to even speak to you. Rude. Dismissive.

You never thought you could feel anything for him. But years later, everything feels different. And so does the way he’s looking at you.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no outbreak au, no ellie, dbf!joel, age gap, mean joel,pet names, alcohol consumption. weed consumption, oral m!receiving, dirty talk, degradation

A/N : First time writing Joel Miller, but this fucking guy is stuck in my head on a loop and I had to get him out of my system. Even created a whole new blog just for him. And now that I’ve written this, I somehow have even more ideas?? No beta, because life is life. Hope you enjoy

Here on AO3

ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ.ᖭ༏ᖫ

"Waiting for you at the exit!" the text from your dad read. You checked it one last time as you made your way toward the terminal exit, eyes scanning the crowd. The rolling of your suitcase felt almost too loud in the busy airport, but you barely noticed it as you searched.

And then, a hand waved in the air—there he was. Your dad. His face lit up with that familiar, wide grin, and before you knew it, he was already moving toward you, eager and excited.

As you reached him, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like you were still his little girl. You sank into the embrace, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours, the steady beat of his heart familiar and comforting.

You pulled away from your dad’s embrace, smiling up at him. "You look like you’ve been waiting forever," you teased, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Your dad chuckled, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were younger.

"I’ve been here for a while, actually," he said, his voice a little too cheerful. "Couldn’t wait to see my favorite graduate."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I’m your only graduate, Dad."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed again, clearly proud. "Still feels like a big deal."

You smiled again, the pride bubbling up inside you. It felt surreal ; starting college years ago, it seemed like a lifetime ago. And now, here you were, finally done with it all. Sure, college had been a great experience, but nothing beat the satisfaction of being done.

Your dad reached for your large suitcase, lifting it from your hand. “I can take it, really,” you protested with a smile, appreciating the gesture.

“No, no,” he responded, waving off your offer. “The flight must’ve been tiring. Today’s about you, so let me take care of you.”

You thanked him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his caring words, and the two of you made your way outside the terminal. As soon as you stepped into the Texas air, the familiar thick heat hit you like a wall. You had almost forgotten just how intense the summer heat could be, especially after spending so much time in the cooler, more temperate climate of Chicago.

You both made your way to his car, and soon you were on the road toward your childhood home.

"I'm so happy you're here," your dad said, his smile wide and genuine as he glanced over at you.

"Come on, I was here for Christmas," you chuckled, brushing off his excitement. "It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in years."

"It felt like it for me," he replied, his voice softening a little as he focused on the road. "The house always felt so lonely without you. I’m really happy you're home."

"I'm happy too, Dad," you said, your own smile creeping up. It felt good to hear that—good to know your presence meant something more than just the occasional visit.

The conversation naturally flowed as the miles ticked by. Your dad asked about your last few days at school, how the flight had been, and whether you’d managed to catch up with any of your friends before leaving. You found yourself laughing and reminiscing, the easy familiarity between you two making it feel like no time had passed at all.

After a little while, the car slowed, and you could see the familiar neighborhood signs in the distance. The streets, lined with houses you once knew so well, felt like a snapshot of your childhood, almost frozen in time. And then, the house came into view. The old oak tree in the front yard stood tall as ever, its branches casting long, familiar shadows over the driveway.

As you opened the car door, you could see your dad grinning from ear to ear, his excitement practically radiating off of him. You shot him a questioning look, but shrugged it off, assuming he was just that happy you were home. If you’d been paying closer attention, you might have noticed the unusual number of cars parked along the street—more than you'd expected for a quiet neighborhood.

But you didn’t notice. Not yet.

When your dad handed you the key to the house and told you to go ahead and open the door, you were too caught up in the warmth of the reunion to think twice about it. You turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open slowly, expecting the quiet stillness of home.

But before you could even step inside, someone flipped on the lights.

In an instant, a chorus of voices erupted from the shadows, and people leaped out from every corner, yelling, "Surprise!" Laughter and cheers filled the air as you blinked in shock, your heart racing. There, in the middle of the living room, was a crowd of familiar faces—family, friends from home, and even some you hadn't seen in years—all smiling wide with excitement, their surprise catching you completely off guard.

You clenched your hand to your chest, letting out a startled yelp. You hadn’t expected this. The shock of the surprise hit you hard, and before you could even catch your breath, your dad patted you on the shoulder from behind.

You turned to him, eyes wide. “What the—?”

He smiled, his voice loud enough for the entire crowd to hear. “She’s home!” And the room erupted in cheers once more.

“Say hello,” he continued, his grin never fading as he gestured to your luggage and backpack. “I’m gonna take these to your room.”

You were still frozen in place, your mind racing. This wasn’t how you had imagined the evening going at all. You’d expected a quiet night—maybe convincing your dad to order some takeout and watching a stupid movie together, just the two of you. Definitely not a surprise party in your honor.

Before you could even process it, people were already crowding around you, greeting you with warm smiles and happy chatter. It took a few sentences before your brain caught up with reality, but once it did, you found your rhythm, smiling and thanking everyone as you pulled them into quick hugs. You exchanged brief words, trying to take it all in, but it was impossible to focus on everyone.

You couldn’t even guess how many people were there—maybe twenty? Most of them had already split into smaller groups, some headed toward the kitchen, others into the backyard. The whole house felt alive with laughter and conversation, buzzing with energy.

Just then, your dad returned, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a brief side hug. You squeezed his shoulder, still processing the surprise. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth.“Is it impolite if I go take a shower and change?” you asked, motioning to your travel outfit—a worn pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt. You felt ridiculously underdressed for a party like this, your clothes inadequate for the occasion.

He chuckled, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kissed the top of your head, then nudged you toward the stairs. "Go on, don’t take too long."

You quickly excused yourself, sprinting toward your room. Your dad had definitely gone all out to surprise you—the room was spotless, everything neatly in place, just as you remembered. It was a comfort to see your space waiting for you, a small piece of familiarity in the chaos of the evening.

You threw your suitcase on the bed, quickly unzipping it and rummaging through the contents in search of something nice to wear. It didn't take long before you darted into the bathroom, the cool tile floor a relief after the heat of the day. You were the type who loved to take long showers, sometimes staying under the warm water until your dad had to yell from downstairs, complaining that he also needed hot water for his own shower.

Tonight, though, you needed to be quick. You didn’t want to keep everyone waiting too long, especially after they’d all come out to celebrate you. The trip had been exhausting, and while the time under the water was always soothing, you knew there was no time to indulge tonight. The warm water washed away the tension from your muscles, soothing the soreness from the weird position you'd managed to fall asleep in on the plane. You barely bothered to dry your hair, knowing the humid air outside would do the job quickly enough.

You grabbed the first sundress you had found, a simple white one that was light and breathable enough for the Texas heat. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was comfortable and easy, and right now, that was all that mattered.

You made your way back downstairs, already feeling more like yourself. The shower had worked wonders, and the light sundress helped you settle into the warm, familiar air of your childhood home.

Your dad spotted you first, his face lighting up again. He was mid-conversation with one of your aunts but paused as you approached. “There she is,” he said proudly, motioning for you to join them.

Your aunt greeted you with a warm hug, immediately launching into the usual questions—congratulations, how was school, what was next. You gave her a polite smile and nodded through the compliments, but when she asked about your future plans—a question you weren’t ready to answer—you skillfully deflected, asking her about her work, her garden, anything to shift the spotlight.

Your dad stepped in then, mercifully. “I didn’t even offer—do you want something to drink?”

“Sure,” you said, flashing a grateful smile at your aunt before following your dad toward the kitchen.

On the way there, you exchanged quick hellos and short hugs with a few familiar faces scattered through the living room. The noise of the party pulsed gently around you—music low, conversations layered, the clink of glasses in the background.

Once in the kitchen, your dad turned to you, hands already moving toward the fridge. “What’ll it be?” he asked.

“What are you offering?” you asked, leaning against the counter.

He opened the fridge. “Well, we’ve got enough beer to last us a few days,” he said with a grin. “Or, if you’re feeling bold, I could get you something stronger.” He nodded toward the assortment of bottles lined up neatly on the counter.

“A beer’s fine to start,” you replied, smiling.

Your dad handed you one, and you popped it open, ready to head back and rejoin the crowd. But just as you turned, you collided with something solid—someone, actually.

You stumbled a little, beer sloshing near the rim of the bottle, and barely had time to react before your dad’s voice cut in, cheerful and unaware of the tension that had just shifted the air.

“Joel! Wondered where you went!”

Your whole body tensed for a beat, instinctual and sharp. Of course. You took a quick step back, enough to finally look up and get a good look at the man you’d just bumped into.

Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend since the day he moved into the house next door. He stood there, looking down at you with that same gruff expression he always wore around you. Taller than you remembered. Broader, too. The kind of presence that filled the room without trying.

“Was just outside,” Joel said, his tone casual as his eyes slid right past you. “Came in for a new one,” he added, lifting his empty beer bottle like proof.

Your dad reached into the fridge and tossed him another without missing a beat. Joel caught it with practiced ease, cracking it open one-handed. Then, for the first time, he actually looked at you—and at the matching bottle in your hand.

“Since when are you old enough to drink?” he asked, the words edged with something that wasn’t quite teasing.

You met his gaze, unimpressed, and took a slow sip before replying. “It’s been a while.” Your voice was flat, arms crossing over your chest.

The man had known you your whole life and somehow still looked at you like you were a surprise—and not a pleasant one.

The air between you bristled, charged with the same tension that had always simmered there. You didn’t like him. He didn’t like you. And neither of you bothered to pretend otherwise.

Joel turned away, launching straight into a conversation with your dad as if you weren’t even there. Like this wasn’t your party. Like none of this had anything to do with you.

Typical.

He’d never really cared about you, and he’d never made an effort to hide it. The bond between him and your dad had been instant, the kind of easy friendship built on shared interests you’d never been part of. Their jobs, fixing things, football and other stuff you’d always found boring or just flat-out irritating.

With you, Joel was different. Always had been. You weren’t part of the equation, just some brat he had to tolerate in order to spend time with your dad. He’d never been subtle about it either—rolling his eyes when you asked questions, sighing when you pushed his buttons, offering only the bare minimum in response when forced to talk to you.

You used to think he hated kids. But no—he just didn’t like you.

Which was fine, because you didn’t like him either. You tolerated him, because your dad liked him, but as you got older, you stopped pretending to be polite. If Joel couldn’t be bothered to try, then why should you? You rolled your eyes when he spoke, talked back when he got snippy. Your dad had always tried to get you to see the good in him, but you never did. And honestly, it didn’t really matter. Joel was just… there. Always hanging around whenever you came home, like part of the furniture : annoying, unavoidable, and easy to ignore.

You left them to their conversation, not bothering to hide your disinterest, and stepped outside to find people who actually enjoyed your presence. The scent of barbecue drifted through the air, warm and familiar, and your stomach growled as you grabbed a plate from the folding table piled with food.

Before long, you found yourself seated at a picnic table with a mix of childhood friends and cousins you hadn’t seen in ages. The conversation flowed easily, catching up, teasing each other, slipping back into old rhythms like no time had passed at all.

People came and went as the night wore on, stopping to hug you, offer congratulations, ask about school. You recognized a few of your dad’s work friends lingering on the patio, most of them clustered in the same spot—around your dad and, of course, Joel. 

The conversations kept going, and so did the beers. You were genuinely grateful to whoever had stocked the fridge like they were prepping for the apocalypse, because no one was going easy on them, least of all you and your friends.

As the night wore on, people started saying their goodbyes. A few last hugs, warm smiles, and congratulations passed between you and the guests as they filtered out. You thanked them all, the praise and attention making your cheeks ache from smiling.

Eventually, only a handful of people remained—six or seven at most. You and your friends made up one little cluster, your dad and his made up the other. Joel, of course, was still right there with your father, like he’d just been absorbed into the foundation of the house itself.

When your last friend finally stood to leave, mumbling something about an early shift, you pouted dramatically. “You’re really gonna leave me here with them?” you whispered, tilting your head toward the older crowd.

She snorted, pulling you into one last hug. “You’ll survive. But in case it gets too hard…” She slipped something into your palm with a grin.

You looked down to see a neatly rolled joint nestled in your hand.

“Figured you haven’t had time to stock up yet. Consider it a graduation gift,” she said with a wink.

You stifled a laugh, hiding it quickly in your fist like a teenager. “You’re the best,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t I know it,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the night.

You watched her disappear down the driveway, then turned back toward the house, heading toward the patio where your dad and his friends were still gathered, half-lit by the string lights draped above.

“Goin’ to bed already?” your dad asked as you passed by, the buzz in his voice saying he hoped you’d stick around a little longer.

You smiled, still carefully cradling the joint in your closed hand. “Nope. Just takin’ a lap. Think I might’ve had one too many.”

Frank leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “Can’t hold your beer, huh? Like daughter, like father.”

You shot him a grin, backing away into the house. “Give me five minutes and I’ll prove I can outdrink him.”

That got a round of laughter, your dad laughing loudest of all while his friends chimed in with mock protests and teasing.

You were a smoker—on and off. Mostly when you were stressed, or buzzed just enough not to care, like tonight. Your dad wasn’t—never had been—and you didn’t exactly feel like getting a lecture tonight. You just wanted a little more fun, to stretch the evening a bit longer.

So you slipped into the kitchen, quietly opening one cupboard, then another. You were hoping, maybe, some old forgotten lighter had been tossed in a drawer. A leftover from a guest. Anything. But no luck so far.

You didn’t hear the back door creak open. Didn’t notice the presence behind you until a low voice cut through the quiet.

“What are you doin’?”

You startled, spinning around. Joel stood a few steps inside, the kitchen light casting a warm line across his face. You must’ve looked caught—like a teenager up to something—because his brow lifted in that way of his. That silent judgment.

Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. Would’ve walked right past you without so much as a glance. But not tonight.

He moved to the fridge, opened it like he’d done it a thousand times—which, to be fair, he had—and grabbed a beer. ““What’re you diggin’ through drawers for like that?”’

“Nothing,” you said, crossing your arms like a shield.

He cracked the cap off with one hand, took a long pull, then looked you over again. “Nothin’, huh.”

His voice was skeptical, casual in that way that always grated on your nerves. He didn’t believe you. That much was obvious in the way he leaned back against the counter and just... looked. Waiting.

The stare stretched long between you, hot and heavy like the Texas summer outside.

You didn’t look away. Just stood there, jaw tight, staring back. The message was clear in your eyes:

Why the hell are you still here?

You didn’t want to be the first to break, to move, to let him think he’d gotten under your skin. But at some point, your patience thinned, you just wanted to smoke and unwind. So you walked past him, your every step saying I’m done with this.

You didn’t bother hiding the way your shoulder brushed his slightly on the way out. Didn’t mask the glare you shot up at him as he looked down at you, still leaning there like he owned the place.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t offer a word. Just walked out of the kitchen, your footsteps solid on the hardwood as you made your way to the stairs.

You didn’t look back—but you could feel his eyes on you, lingering, sharp as ever, watching you disappear.

Once in your room, jaw tight and heart still a little too fast, you dropped to your knees by your bag. You were annoyed—annoyed at him, at the whole damn moment—and all you wanted was the comfort of a quiet high. You unzipped the front pocket, fingers digging past receipts and pens, and there it was.

The lighter.

Right where you needed it.

You walked down the stairs slowly, careful with each step, not wanting to draw any attention—especially not from Joel. If he was still brooding in that damn kitchen, you had no interest in crossing paths again.

A quick glance confirmed the coast was clear. No voices. No movement. You slipped through the front door without a sound.

Outside, the night wrapped around you in a warm hush. The air was thick with leftover summer heat, cicadas buzzing low in the distance. You made your way to the old oak tree, the one that had watched over you since childhood, and slid down with your back against its trunk.

The joint was still in your hand, slightly bent from your grip. You brought it to your lips and flicked the lighter you’d grabbed from your bag upstairs.

Nothing.

You tried again. Pressed harder.

Still nothing.

“Fucking really,” you muttered under your breath, jaw clenching as you stared down at the useless plastic.

You shook the lighter, flicked it again, and like a gift from someone above, a blessed spark appeared long enough for you to light your joint. You inhaled, slow and satisfied, the burn calming, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a weighted blanket.

Then, a voice cut through it.

“You serious right now?”

Your eyes flew open mid-exhale. Joel.

He stood at the edge of the porch, arms crossed over his chest, face shadowed—but the tone was all too clear. Disapproval, plain as day.

You coughed lightly, caught off guard, waving a hand like you could erase the smoke between you. “Jesus, do you ever make a sound when you walk?”

“Didn’t think I needed to,” he said, stepping off the porch, boots crunching against the grass as he came closer. “Didn’t figure I’d catch you hidin’ out here like a damn teenager.”

“Not a teenager anymore,” you shot back, trying to steady yourself, annoyed by the interruption.

“You sure? Then why are you smoking here, hiding from your daddy?” he asked, his tone low, judgment lacing the words.

“Can’t I just want a moment to myself?” you retorted, holding his gaze steady as you took another hit.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, arms crossed, eyes flicking down to the joint between your fingers. The judgment was all over his face. If a cigarette would've earned you a lecture from your dad, this? This would light a fuse.

But you didn’t hide it. You didn’t even flinch. Hiding it would’ve meant guilt. It would’ve meant Joel won.

And you weren’t giving him that.

He huffed through his nose, like he couldn’t believe you had the nerve, but wasn’t surprised either. “Y’know he’s gonna smell it the second he steps outside,” he muttered.

“Then maybe he shouldn’t step outside,” you said calmly, shrugging as you brought the joint back to your lips.

“You never admit when you’re in the wrong, do you?” he snapped back, his tone clipped. Joel didn’t like getting talked back to—especially not by you.

You stood up, brushing grass from your dress, chin lifting as you squared up to him.

“Oh my god, Joel. It’s one joint. I’m not twelve anymore,” you said, voice rising with each word. “I drink. I smoke. I do a lot of things.”

That made him pause. His eyes locked on yours, and for a second, it looked like he might ask what exactly those "things" were. You saw it, the curiosity, judgment, maybe even a flicker of something else but he bit it back, jaw clenched.

“Let’s not pretend you’re some saint who’s never touched a joint in your life. Or worse,” you added, eyes narrowing. “We both know that’s not true.”

He took a step closer, slow and sure like he always moved, and before you could react—before you could even take another inhale—his hand reached out. Quick. Firm. He plucked the joint from between your fingers like it was his.

“What the hell—” you started, already ready to snap, but the words caught in your throat when instead of lecturing you, instead of crushing it under his boot like you half-expected, he brought it to his own mouth.

Joel inhaled. Long, steady. The ember flared, lighting up the edges of his face—the hard line of his jaw, the crease in his brow, the scar on his temple..

He stood there, smoke curling from his lips, his eyes half-lidded as he brought a hand up to run through his hair like the weight of the night had finally sunk into his bones. There was more gray than you remembered. At his temples. Scattered through the strands like dust on old wood. He looked… older. In a good way.

You blinked hard. You didn’t want to notice things like that, not about Joel.

“Never seen you smoke before,” you said, trying to cut through the strange haze between you.

“That’s ‘cause I know how not to get caught,” he muttered, taking another pull. Calm. Unbothered.

You scoffed. “Oh, so you’re hiding too? What, scared my daddy’s gonna ground you?”

That pulled the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile, exactly, but close enough to spark something sharp in your chest.

“You’re gettin’ old, you know that?” you said, letting it land like a tease, but there was an edge to it.

He tilted his head, gaze pinning you in place. “Am I now?” he said, voice low, thick with that familiar southern drawl—like honey and gravel. He stepped in just enough that you caught the scent of smoke and the heat from his skin. “Funny, comin’ from the girl sneakin’ off like she’s still seventeen.”

You rolled your eyes. You were starting to think this might be the longest conversation you’d ever had with him.

You reached out, palm up. “You gonna give it back?”

Joel didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he stepped forward—close. Too close. The air shifted instantly, thick with something that wasn’t just smoke or summer heat. His hand lifted, steady, unhurried. And without asking, without a word, he pressed the joint back between your lips.

Your breath hitched. Not just from the inhale—but from him.

His fingers brushed your lower lip, slow and deliberate. Not an accident. Not rushed. Just enough to leave heat in their wake.

You stared up at him, lips parted slightly around the joint. Your heart beat too loud in your chest, but your body stayed still.

He didn’t look away.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

His gaze locked on yours, heavy and unreadable, like he was waiting. Like he was daring you to break the silence first.

But for once, you didn’t.

You took a slow drag. Held it. Exhaled—right between the two of you.

And still, neither of you moved. Joel held your gaze for one long second more.

Then, like a switch flipped, he stepped back, just a half-step, but it felt like miles. The heat between you cooled instantly, and when he spoke again, his voice had that old, familiar edge.

“Well,” Joel said, his eyes flicking over you with that familiar, judgmental gaze, “didn’t even last a day before you were back to your old tricks.”

The words landed sharp, biting in that casual, offhand way only he could manage. Like everything you did was somehow a little wrong, a little too much..

And just like that, there he was—that Joel. The one who couldn’t help but offer a comment about everything. The one who never missed a chance to nitpick, to point out what you were doing wrong.

You scoffed, jaw tight. “There he is,” you muttered, dragging on the joint, blowing out a thick plume of smoke. “Was wonderin’ how long it’d take for the real Joel to show up.”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice low and sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You took another hit, your thoughts swirling for a moment. You could just let him go, ignore him like you had countless times before. But no, he had to make that damn snarky comment, didn’t he?

You turned to him, the frustration boiling over, and before you could stop yourself, the words came sharp. You stepped in, jabbing a finger into his chest—hard, deliberate. “Always so fucking rude to me. What the hell did I ever do to you?” 

He stiffened at your words, clearly not expecting the bite behind them. You poked him again, harder this time. “You never said anything nice to me, never even looked at me like I was a person. Just a damn inconvenience in the way of your ‘good time’ with my dad. So tell me, what did I do to deserve that, huh?”

Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before your finger could make contact again. His grip was tight, not painful, but enough to stop you in your tracks. His eyes—those goddamn eyes—narrowed as he looked down at you, frustration boiling behind them.

“Come on,” he said, voice low and cutting. “You really wanted me to coddle you? Like your dad does—pretending you don’t make everything harder than it has to be?” He laughed once, bitter and short. “You’ve been a storm since the day I met you. You’ve been acting out your whole damn life, never grateful, always pushing. What, you think that deserves kindness?”

He stepped in closer, the distance between you shrinking, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not your dad, sweetheart. I don’t have to pretend to care. And I sure as hell didn’t have to put up with you when you couldn’t even take care of yourself. You think I wanted to deal with you?” He gave you a smirk, as if the very thought was laughable.

The bitterness in his voice cut through you like a knife, the words searing with years of unspoken resentment. Maybe you had been a pain in the ass as a kid, always causing trouble, always pushing boundaries. But you were a kid. Yes, your dad worked himself to the bone to provide for you, and you were left trying to figure it out on your own. 

You looked up at him, jaw clenched, trying to hold on to the anger that was threatening to slip away.

“You think I asked for any of this?” you snapped back, your voice dripping with contempt. “I didn’t ask for you to come around, either. You think I wanted to be stuck between you and my dad, always the damn inconvenience? Maybe I was just trying to figure out my own damn life. Maybe I didn’t need someone like you breathing down my neck every time I fucked up.”

His eyes flashed at that, but he didn’t move. Didn’t back away.

"Was I just a disappointment to you, then? Is that it?" you spat out, the question lingering in the cold air between you two.

“No,” Joel replied, his voice hard but low, like he was forcing the words through clenched teeth. “You never disappointed me, kid. You were always exactly who I expected you to be.”

It hit you harder than it should have. Those words stung, but you didn’t let it show. You fought to keep your composure, to hold onto that anger that had been building in your chest. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt.

You yanked your wrist from his grip, the heat of his touch still burning into your skin. “Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, the words biting as they left your lips. You didn’t give him a second glance as you turned and walked toward the front porch, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back.

The joint had stopped burning, but you didn’t care anymore as you trew it away. You needed a moment to breathe. You went straight to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on your face to shake off the heat of the argument. You stared at yourself in the mirror, frustration building inside you. Fuck him, you thought. Fuck him.

You spritzed some perfume, just in case the lingering scent gave you away, and then walked back down the stairs, your steps purposeful and steady. In the kitchen, you opened the fridge, but it was the bottles on the counter that called to you. You didn’t bother with the beer. Instead, you grabbed whatever whiskey was within reach, pouring yourself a drink and letting the burn settle in your chest.

You walked back toward the backyard, taking slow steps as you made your way to the patio. Your dad was deep in conversation with Frank and Bill, laughing lightly at something one of them had said. When he saw you, his face lit up with a smile.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice warm.

“I said I would,” you replied, offering him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You didn’t feel like explaining much right now.

You found a chair around the table, making sure to settle yourself just far enough from your dad. You didn’t want him to notice anything—the lingering scent or the storm still brewing in your mind. There was no need for him to ask, and no need to bring it up.

Joel wasn’t around the table, and part of you felt a little relief. Maybe he was already on his way home, back to wherever he belonged. But, as if summoned by your thoughts, there he was—appearing from the same way you had come.

"Thought you forgot where the bathroom was," your father teased as Joel slid into the empty chair across from you.

"Not that drunk," Joel muttered, a little too casually, his eyes flicking over to you like he was trying to catch your gaze. But you didn't bite. Instead, you focused on Bill next to you, making small talk, pretending not to notice the tension building in the air.

Your father’s attention shifted to your drink. "Didn't expect you to be a whiskey girl," he remarked with a smile, eyebrows raised.

You shrugged, taking another sip. "It's nice," you replied, your voice nonchalant, though the warmth of the alcohol barely did anything to calm you.

Your father patted you on the shoulder. "Well, finally, something you’ve got in common with Joel, huh? He’s the one who brought it, you know." He looked over at Joel, pride edging his voice. "You should see his collection," he continued, clearly pleased with the fact that you two could now bond over something.

You kept your eyes on your glass, trying to avoid the sharp edge of Joel’s stare, but it didn't escape you—the way your father was so eager to find common ground, any excuse to connect you with Joel. You gave your dad a small, practised smile enough to ease his attention off you. But your eyes caught Joel’s across the table.

He was staring.

Not in the careless, absent way people sometimes do when lost in thought. Joel was watching you, steady, unreadable, like he hadn’t stopped since he sat down. Like the words you’d thrown at him earlier were still echoing somewhere behind his eyes.

You tilted your head just slightly, a silent question or maybe a challenge, and took a slow sip of your drink—intentional, deliberate. His gaze didn’t flinch.

If anything, it sharpened.

Frank leaned forward slightly, swirling the wine in his glass. “So,” he said, glancing at you with a friendly grin, “Happy to be finished with school ?”

You nodded, taking a sip. “Yeah, finally..”

“Damn, time flies,” Bill said, impressed. “Feels like we were just talkin’ about you leavin’. What’d you end up majoring in?”

“Communications,” you said, voice light. “Which is code for ‘I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life.’”

That got a laugh from Frank. “Well, join the club. Took me years to figure out what I wanted, and even then, I changed my mind half a dozen times.”

Your dad beamed quietly, pride flickering behind his eyes. “She’s smart,” he said. “Always has been. Stubborn as hell, but smart.”

You gave him a small smile, choosing not to argue.

“So what about work?” Bill asked. “You stayin’ around here, or just visiting?”

You hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know yet. Thought I’d come back, take a breath before jumping into anything serious.”

There was a pause, and then Frank grinned. “And anyone special back at school—or here—giving you a reason to stay?”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed under your breath, deflecting with a sip of your drink. “Jesus, Frank.”

He held up his hands, grinning. “What? Can’t ask a question?”

Your dad chimed in, playing along. “Hey, pretend I’m not here if it helps.”

You laughed, relaxed. You didn’t mind your dad. The two of you had gotten close, especially in those past years, separated by college. If there had been anyone serious, he’d probably already know.

“No one worth mentioning,” you said after a moment, flicking your eyes back to Frank. “Just me for now.”

Frank gave you a look, all charm and teasing. “I don’t buy that for a second. Pretty thing like you? I bet you left a trail of broken hearts in Chicago.”

You let out a soft laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Eh,” you said lightly, the smile not quite reaching your eyes, “disappointment’s kind of my thing, apparently,” you said, smiling just enough to pass it off as a joke.

Your dad chuckled, clearly not reading the undercurrent. “You? Please. You’re doing just fine.”

But Joel—he wasn’t laughing. He stopped mid-sip, his eyes fixed on you over the rim of his glass. His gaze was sharp, piercing, the silent understanding hanging between you like a weight.

You didn’t acknowledge him. You didn’t have to. You knew he heard it.

You kept the conversation going with Frank, though his words were starting to blur as the alcohol made him a bit more loose-lipped than usual. Bill, ever the more sober one, finally pointed out that it was time for them to head out. Frank, clearly one glass of wine too many, was a little wobbly on his feet, but that didn’t stop him from giving you his signature ruffle on the head. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You’re gonna find someone who sees you for who you are, kid,” Frank slurred, his voice filled with an odd mix of affection and drunken sincerity. “You’re too smart, too pretty, not to," Frank said, his voice a little louder than necessary as he nudged you with a playful grin. “Ain’t she, Joel?”

Joel, who had been deep in conversation with your dad, looked up, clearly caught off guard by Frank’s question. "What?"

“She’s pretty, don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the awkwardness that would follow. Frank was a little tipsy, but you knew he didn’t mean any harm. It was just Frank being Frank.

You half-expected Joel to brush it off, mutter something gruff, or look away entirely—anything to avoid the attention. But instead, he met your gaze briefly, his eyes looking you up just for a second, before shifting back to Frank.

“Very pretty,” Joel said quietly, the words not quite as reluctant this time. It was almost as if he couldn’t help it, like Frank’s teasing had pulled it out of him.

“See?” Frank said, giving Joel a playful shove, not realising the undercurrent of tension in the air. “Even Joel says so!”

Joel’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but he didn’t say anything more.

Frank and Bill left, their goodbyes echoing softly as they promised to invite you and your dad for dinner soon. You stayed outside as your dad continued his conversation with Joel about the upcoming game and who was going to host it. The voices of the two men blended into background noise, the hum of the conversation barely registering in your mind. You were half-listening, half-distracted, your thoughts lingering on the anger you’d been holding onto all night.

The burn of the whisky slid down your throat, and without even realizing it, your eyes found Joel. You were still mad at him, the words he’d spoken earlier lodged under your skin. It stung in a way that made it harder to push away. Normally, you would’ve brushed it off, moved on, but tonight, his words had managed to hit deeper than usual. And for some reason, it bothered you more than you were willing to admit.

At first, you looked at him with nothing but irritation, your gaze sharp, unforgiving. The way he leaned back in his chair, so at ease after everything he’d said—it grated on you. But then, without meaning to, your eyes lingered. You noticed how the porch light caught the strands of gray in his hair, more than you remembered. The lines around his eyes were deeper now, the rough stubble along his jaw peppered with silver. And yet, somehow, it suited him. He looked… good. Annoyingly so. That solid kind of good that didn’t come from trying. The kind that made some of your dad’s female friends earlier laugh too loud at his jokes and linger a little too long near wherever he stood. 

He shouldn’t have looked good. Not after the shit he said. Not after the way he always made you feel small and in the way.

And then, as if he could feel the weight of your gaze, his eyes found yours.

You hesitated for a second, but didn’t look away. You couldn’t. Not this time. You weren’t going to let him think he had any power over you. Not now. Not ever again.

He held your gaze, serious now, almost as if he was silently asking you what the hell you were looking at. It was like a challenge, an invitation for you to either break or keep going. But you didn’t flinch, didn’t break the connection.

Your dad, oblivious as ever, continued tidying up the table, clearing away the bottles, while he kept talking to Joel. But you didn’t shift your focus. And so, knowing damn well he was watching, a strange boldness crept in, aided by the drinks you’d had. You let your eyes trace him—across his chest, his hands, then slowly, almost instinctively, to his lips.

You took a slow sip of your drink, letting the tension hang in the air, lingering just enough on his lips for him to feel the weight of it. Then, you lifted your gaze back up to his. You saw the way his brows furrowed for a second, his eyes narrowing as if trying to make sense of what you were doing.

In that instant, your dad clapped his hands, breaking the tense silence between you and Joel. Both of you snapped your gaze away, turning towards him.

"I'm busted," he said with a grin, clearly oblivious to the quiet storm that had just passed between the two of you. "I think it's time for me to go to bed. What about you two?"

You raised your drink to him, trying to mask the lingering heat in your chest. "Gonna finish this first, then I'll crash too," you said, voice calm, though your mind was anything but.

Your dad chuckled, giving you a playful look. “Whiskey, huh? Careful, it goes under your skin quickly.” He glanced at Joel, raising an eyebrow. “What about you?”

“I’ll finish my drink too and go,” Joel replied, his voice steady.

Your dad nodded, then walked over to you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “So glad you’re here,” he said warmly. You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him, before waving as he turned to head back inside. As he passed Joel, he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

And just like that, the two of you were alone again. Your eyes drifted to the door your dad had disappeared through… then back to Joel—only to find him already watching you.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said casually, but that familiar edge was there—like he was already halfway into a fight.

You scoffed, lifting your glass. “Funny, coming from you.”

Joel raised a brow, slow and deliberate. “What’re you tryin’ to say?”

You didn’t flinch. “That you’ve been staring at me all night. Like you’re tryin’ to set me on fire.”

He took a long sip, unfazed. “And why the hell would I wanna do that?”

You shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps acting like I’m a pain in your ass.”

Joel gave a low, humorless laugh. “Darlin’, you are. Don’t mean I gotta kill you for it.”

You leaned back, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself, the word darlin’ echoing like heat under your skin. “How kind of you..  So what do I owe this stare? Full of love and all,” you added, letting the word drag with thick sarcasm.

Joel scoffed, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Love ain’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Mm,” you hummed, tilting your head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He lifted his glass, took another long sip, then set it down with a soft clink—clear as day he was ending the conversation. Funny how he’d been the one to start this fight, but didn’t want to finish it. You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out; pushing his buttons was too tempting to resist.

“Am I really that pretty?” you pressed, leaning forward, voice low. “Is that it? Enough to make you unable to look away?”

You saw the way his jaw twitched before he met your gaze again, his eyes darker than before. In the past, that little tell would’ve tipped you off and you’d have backed down, let him off the hook. But tonight, you didn’t care. If he couldn’t find the decency to be kind, why should you?

“Not gonna answer?” you teased, your voice soft but edged. You lifted the glass in a salute, then drained the last drop.

“Careful.” His voice was low, dangerous and it made your stomach tighten.

“Or what, Miller?” you shot back, setting your empty glass on the table. “Gonna ground me? You’re not my dad, remember.”

With those words, you stood, smoothing the hem of your dress. For a heartbeat, you saw his gaze drop to your bare leg—just a glance—before snapping back up to yours. 

“Always gotta be smart, don’t ya?” he called after you, voice rough as you stepped toward the door.

You stopped mid-step, one hand on the doorframe, and turned back. The patio light caught your face just right. Arms crossed, you gave him a small, mocking smile. “Oh, so I’m smart now?” you snapped, tone brittle with sarcasm. “Pretty and smart—what’s gotten into you, Joel? Running out of insults?”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes hard. “Don’t push your luck,” he said, his voice low and dry. “I said you were smart, not that you stopped bein’ a brat.”

“Oh, right,” you scoffed. “Because you’re the king of saying exactly what you mean. Never cryptic, never cruel, never hiding behind that goddamn scowl.”

He stood then—slow, deliberate—his glass forgotten on the table behind him. His height always had a way of pressing down on a room, and now, with only the patio light casting long shadows between you, he felt even closer than he was.

“You done?” he asked, low and tight.

“No,” you snapped, taking a step toward him without even thinking. Your heart thudded hard in your chest, but you didn’t let it show. “You’ve been staring at me all night like I’m something stuck to your damn boot, but God forbid I look back. You start shit, and then when I give it back, suddenly I’m the one who’s too much?”

Joel didn’t flinch, didn’t move at first—but you saw it in his jaw, the way it clenched, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was holding something in.

He stepped toward you, and the space between you narrowed into something heavy—your skin prickling with heat, not entirely from anger. His voice dropped, rough and controlled, but far from calm.

“Does that mouth ever do somethin’ other than complain?”

The words hit like a slap, and a dare. The way he said it, slow, his voice coiled tight with something darker, something heavier, made your pulse jump.

Your breath caught, not from fear, but from the sudden pulse of heat that curled low in your stomach. Maybe it was the whiskey still humming through your veins, the warmth of it making you bold, reckless. Sober, you never would’ve said what came next.

You looked up at him, stepping in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the space between you now little more than a breath; eyes fixed on his, daring. “Why?” you said, voice low and steady. “You want my mouth to do something else?”

Joel didn’t hesitate. His fingers came up, rough and warm, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, firm, not gentle. He tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You wanna play like that, kid?” he muttered, the word kid sounding more like a warning than an insult. “Keep talkin’ like you know what you’re askin' for.”

The word echoed in your head—not just what he said, but how he said it. Low, rough, like gravel under pressure. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stared, like he was waiting to see if you’d flinch first. Your heart kicked harder against your ribs. You should’ve backed off. Maybe any other night, you would’ve. But the way he was looking at you — like you were the last line he hadn’t crossed — made your mouth move before your brain could stop it.

“Not scared of you,” you said, but the words came out softer than you meant them to.

He leaned in closer, just a breath away, the porch light casting deep shadows over his face. “You should be,” he paused, his eyes dark. ”Get on your knees.” 

Your breath hitched at his words, the patio suddenly too quiet. For a second, you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. The heat that rushed between your legs, however, confirmed that you had.

“What?” you asked, your voice a little breathless.

Joel didn’t blink. His gaze stayed locked on yours, unmoving, unreadable. “You heard me, girl,” he said, voice rough, low. 

You should have backed off. You knew that. It was Joel, for crying out loud. The one you couldn’t stand. He was your dad’s best friend, your least favourite person in the world. The guy who made you feel small with every sharp word, every lingering glance.

And yet, you sank to your knees. The hand that cupped your chin went to the top of your head, guiding your descent. Joel’s breath became more rugged as you did, never leaving your eyes. 

Your knees fell on the cold patio floor, but you didn't care. Joel's gaze was intense, unreadable, yet unmistakably focused on you. His eyes locked onto yours, steady and unwavering, as if he was trying to see right through you. You feel the weight of it pressing in on you, challenging you to see how far you were willing to go.

You didn't want to back down. You looked in front of you, his crotch right there. Your hands quickly moved to unbutton his dark jeans, making them fall to the ground. He was already hard, the fabric straining against his thickness, precum staining the front of his boxer, leaving a print that made your mouth salivate a little more than it should.

Joel was big, of course he was. Broad shoulders, large hands, big cock. It made sense. You would be lying if you said you’d never thought about it. After all, Joel Miller was the better-looking of your dad’s friends. He just happened to be the most annoying. 

You brought your mouth closer, letting Joel feel your hot breath on his cock. His hand was still in your hair, a little tug inviting you closer, wordless but clear. Your hand rested on the waistband of his boxer, not taking it off just yet. You could see a bit of his happy trail, his dark hairs inviting you to explore more of his body. You pressed your lips into a small kiss where you could see the print of his tip, earning you a low, guttural groan from Joel. The sound was exquisite, and you already wanted to hear it again. So you pressed a few more kisses, relishing in the small noises he was making. You couldn’t wait to take him in your mouth. 

Finally, you took down his boxer, and his throbbing cock stood in front of you. Large, thick. perfect. You swallowed a gasp, realising you’ve never taken one so big in your mouth — or anywhere else for that matter. It only made it more enticing. You looked up to Joel, who had his eyes on you. Waiting, hungry, and he looked way too good in that instant. It made you feel things you didn’t want to think about Joel. Made you want to take a hand between your thighs and deal with the heat that had been pulsing all evening. But later. Now you only wanted to focus on him.

One hand on his thigh, the other finding the base of his length, you looked at him one more time before opening your mouth. Slowly, teasingly, you licked his tip, tasting the glistening precum off him. Salty. Musky. Joel. Then, you pressed your lips around his length, the warmth of your mouth making the man grunt. Knowing you were the one making him moan like this was exhilarating. Powerful even. The need to hear this sound again pushed you to take more of him, inch by inch. You started a steady rhyme, your mouth so full —  and you hadn't taken all of him yet. 

Joel let out a guttural moan, his hand pushing you further down his length as he thrusted his hips up slightly into your warm, wet mouth. You dared look up to him and saw how his head tilted backwards, the hand that wasn't in your hair on the table behind him, keeping him steady. Fuck, he looked so good and you were the one doing that to him. You clenched your thighs together, feeling a wetness you couldn't take care of right now. 

“Fuck, darling…” he groaned, his calloused fingers tightening their grip on your head when you took him a bit deeper, hitting the bak of your throat. The pet name made you moan around his cock without you even realising, the sound vibrating around his cock. 

At that, Joel looked down at you, a slow, smug smile spreading across his face. Your nose pressed agasint the base of his cock, your throat bulging obscenely with his girth.

“You like it, don’t you? Choking on my dick like that ?” He asks, his voice rough, almost breathless. His eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry, and it sent a shiver down your spine so sharp it left your skin buzzing. You nodded on his cock without even realizing. “Of course you fucking do, you mouthy little thing.”

He started to thrust harder, faster, driven by the thrill of having you here, worshipping his cock like it was your sole purpose. You had sucked dick before, sure. It was something you enjoyed, making your partner come undone with only your mouth. College had been the right place to experience it, but you never had your throat fucked like that. And you liked it more than you thought was possible.

“You take me so good, baby, “ Joel praises you, his voice heavy, taking in the sight of you, the way you are so eager on his cock, and the feeling shouldn't feel so good. You looked up at him, your eyes, your lips stretching around him, your eyes watering slightly as you take him as deep as you can. “F-fuck…” he curses, his breath ragged, as he watches himself disappear inside you inch by inch.“Gonna make me cum doin’ that. Are you gonna be perfect for me and swallow like a good girl ?”

The answer came in the way of a whimper you couldn’t stop, causing Joel to chuckle darkly as an acknowledgement. He picks up the pace and, with a final, hard thrust, Joel buries himself deep in your throat, coming in a strangled moan that sounds very much like your name. 

And so there you were—knees on the cold patio floor of your dad’s house, lips still tingling and your mouth full of cum. Joel Miller, the man you despised, was standing in front of you, his chest rising with rough, uneven breaths. His hand was still tangled in your hair, idly, almost possessively, like he hadn’t decided to let go yet. He looked down at you, and you swallowed under the weight of his gaze. His eyes dragging over your mouth, down your throat, and finally meeting yours again, his breathing just beginning to steady. Then, he loosened his grip in your hair, allowing you to move from him, a strand of cum and saliva connecting your swollen lips to the tip of his softening cock. The sight of you—lips parted, breath shaky, eyes still wide—made Joel chuckle, low and dark. There was no humor in it, not really. Just heat. Satisfaction. 

He helped you back up, his touch steady, almost too gentle after everything. You wobbled for a moment, heart still racing, and smoothed your dress with shaky fingers, eyes avoiding his like they might burn. The silence was deafening as he pulled back his clothes. You couldn’t even look at him, not really—not with the feel of his dick still lingering in your mouth, the taste of him still not gone. The air felt colder now. Or maybe it was you, sobering fast under the weight of everything that just happened.

But before you could say anything, his thumb slid over your lips once more. Just like earlier with the joint, but this time it wasn’t casual. This time it lingered, drawing a painfully slow line against your skin. His eyes were fixed on your mouth, dark with something primal, an intensity that made your breath hitch. It was like he could still feel you there, still feel the way you had taken him so well, so eager. And from the smug tilt of his lips, it was clear he liked it.

“Guess you can back up that mouth after all.”

[strkly]

honey

s.m: after being off the grid for a while you return to society and meet up with your old friend bucky barnes. unexpectedly you run into someone you never thought you would see again. your high school boyfriend robert reynolds.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x fem!reader

w.c: 4.8k

c.w: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of drugs/drug addictions, reader (zero is your hero name) is apart of sam’s team with gravity related powers, bff bucky, you’re exes, the new avengers are chismosas, walker is an asshole, dialogue heavy, not proofread sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes!

a.n: i cried like six times writing this i love bob so much my chest hurts might make a part two but im not sure yet

"bucky are you fucking with me?”

you stare blankly at the tower you had thought was abandoned when you and the rest of the team basically disbanded but the new A sign and the construction trucks littered around the area and tower told you otherwise.

“shut up come on up you’re already cleared for entry.”

you couldn’t believe this was happening. the mission you were recently placed on just so happened to leave you disconnected from society for a few months. bucky, your long time friend, was the first person you were interested in seeing and he agreed. when he sent you his location you merely thought he was pranking you but as you walk inside the building and hit the familiar button to the top of the tower it dawns on you he’s really not joking around.

when the elevator door opens he’s waiting there for you putting away his phone and smiling at you. “look who it is huh” you grin, the sight of your friend warming your heart, you rush towards him and throw your arms around him happily, burying your head in his neck. “i missed you jackass.” “yeah yeah missed you too.”

what you dont notice is the four people all at the bar looking at the scene in what could only be described as horror. “what is happening?” yelena whispers to ava who only shrugs unable to take her eyes off of the strange display.

when you pull away and the two of you begin to exchange a few words the group notices walkers eyes widen in horror upon seeing you and he attempts to push himself out of your line of sight. before any of them could question him the seemingly peaceful conversation between you and bucky turns hostile as you punch him across the face.

“you’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on right now!” alexei ava and yelena all exchange a look before they continue to eat the popcorn they had been snacking on and watching the two of you silently.

“what the hell is this? new avengers? what the fuck are you talking about? and where the hell is sam?” bucky glares at you as he cups his cheek, “can you just listen to me?” you throw your hands up and walk past him standing in the middle of the space not even noticing the group of people as you keep your gaze on bucky. “once you start making sense i’ll listen! god forbid i leave for a couple months and suddenly you’ve join some newly formed avengers team without! sam! who even are these people anyway...” you turn away from him and face the bar without even knowing youd be face to face with the majority of the team.

you scan each of their face one by one as your confusion grows until you land on him. your face drops into a blank stare as walker forces a smile on his face, “zero! hi! so good to see you.”

you say nothing as your head slowly turns towards bucky whos face had already twisted into a grimace knowing what you were going to say. they watch as your hand goes up and buckys body flies towards you, your hands wrapping around his neck. “james bucky barnes you will tell me what the hell is going on, right now!”

the four of them can only stare speechless as the two of you talk over one another, the anger twisted all over your face as bucky attempts to defend himself in strangled breaths. none of them could believe the sight in front of them other than walker who seemed like he had expected this to happen. you had seemed familiar to yelena and now that she saw your powers it had clicked. code name zero, you had been working for the old avengers behind the scenes and was now an associate of the new captain america sam wilson after the two of you became good friends.

if the file she had once read on you was right you could manipulate gravity at your will, a truly dangerous ability. none of them decide to help him simply watching the two of you argue.

“whats going on?” yelena turns to the soft sound of bobs voice who looks concerned as he slowly made his was towards the bar looking back and forth between everyone confused. bob tended to hide up in his room some days but the noise must have drawn his attention to the point he felt the need to come down and see.

all four of them shrug and the now five of them watch as you verbally berate bucky. finally growing tired of him you toss his down and kick him ignoring the groan he lets out you turn to the group hoping you could get some answers from one of them but when your eyes land on the newest addition to the group your expression drops to something unrecognizable.

bob grows uncomfortable under your stare and grips his hands together in front of his as you tilt your head and stare at him.

“robert? bob… reynolds?”

“um,,, yes?”

he fiddles with his fingers as you say nothing for a few moments. the look at your face laced with shock and something he can’t recognize but a small ache grows in his chest for some reason.

“holy shit.”

all eyes turn to bob as he awkwardly fidgets in his place. nobody says anything for a good while until bucky groans as he stands up looking at you. “you know him?”

he asks the question everyone was eager to know you turn your head slightly to look back at him, your voice a lot softer than it had been before. “we um, we were friends, in middle school high school you know,” you turn back to him, realizing he clearly has no memory of you you try to mask how much it hurt. for him to look at you like a stranger. you force a smile on your face as you shake your head.

“it was a long time ago, i dont blame you if you don’t remember.” you watch his face twist as he clearly tries to remember something, anything about you but he turns up blank, “sorry..” its the only thing he can force out but you wave your hand brushing him off. “dont worry about it seriously.”

you let your gaze linger on him for a little bit longer before you turn your back to him and force yourself to talk to bucky once more. he’s changed so much but he hasn’t changed at all. you hadn’t forgotten about him even after all these years have passed, it was almost jarring to see the man you spent so many years with not even seem to remember your name should make you angry but you knew him, you knew bob.

he was never really in the right mental state, with the stuff hes been through and the path he had been down you dont blame him for not remembering. hell if you were him you wouldn’t want to remember that time either but it still stung in a way you didn’t know could sting.

bucky decided to drag you off to a room where the two of you could talk thing out alone, bob doesn’t know why he cant take his eyes off of you as you walk away and why it bothers him so much. as soon as the two of you are our of ear shot everyone turns to bob.

he has no clue how to answer their questions and they quickly grow bored once they realize he truly has no memory of you. as the rest of them engross himself in another conversation about who you were bob finds himself lost in thought. you clearly knew him but it was odd you seemed to think positively of him. you didn’t look at him with disgust your gaze was something more like, fond? no it couldn’t be, nobody would look at him like that.

ill always love you honey

the voice rings in his head and he flinches as his hands gripping the bar table tightly. yelena looks at him concerned but he puts a smile on his face and she looks away hesitantly. what was that? the voice had brought him an odd sense of peace it was almost eerie. his head started to hurt as he tried to think about it, the soft pounding that would hit is body whenever someone asked about his childhood or his past. the life he’s tried to forget, he grimaces as he chugs down the glass of water yelena had given him. he wouldnt think about it anymore no matter how much it was bothering him, maybe it was better forgotten.

an hour passed as the rest of the new avengers made conversation about random nonsense until the sound of a door slamming turned all their heads towards the sight of you with a furious look on your face as bucky trailed behind you. “i just can’t believe you barnes.” “you think i wanted this?”

ignoring bucky you look at all of them with an apologetic look and bow your head. “sorry you all had to see me like that, i promise im a lot nicer than that usually.” bucky scowls like he wants to disagree but one look from you closes his mouth and he looks away. you introduce yourself and everyone but bob replies in turns back at you.

you walk towards the bar and reach over, bob isnt listening to what anyone is saying he can’t seem to take his eyes off you, he watch as you pour yourself a drink, your mouth moving to converse with the other members, a light smile graces your face as you continue to foster your drink. his head hurts. “you should do it to walker next.” the man in question glares daggers at ava who smiles and shrugs back at him. “dont tempt me.” “hey!” you laugh and his chest starts to ache even more.

when you turn your head lightly to look at him he freezes, there's something so familiar about you, he finds himself subconsciously leaning towards you like he was freezing cold and you were a warm fireplace. when you lightly smile at him before turning away he feels his whole world stop. a sudden flash pops up in his head and its you, much younger than you are now grinning at him ear to ear and he flinches, closing his eyes as he tries to push the memory away subconsciously. so he really did know you back then. his memories from his time that long ago were spotty at best, he could remember some things but they were all blurry.

he finally tunes back into the conversation when it turns to him, more specifically you and him. “you have to tell us the story between you two.” yelena wags her finger back and forth between you and bob, a mischievous look on her face as the other agree. you shake your head frantically as you shrug, “i mean whats there to say…”

“oh come on he doesnt know anything you have to tell us everything.” you turn to look at bob expecting him to tell them to stop, he probably doesn’t want them knowing about his past but the look of anticipation on his face tells you what you needed to know. you sigh and try to think about how to word this without letting them know the real dynamic of your relationship.

“well we met during middle school, kept in contact after he had dropped out of highschool. he was always getting himself into some shit and i had to bail him out.” your tone lightens up as you fondly remember your youth, “whenever he was out too late and didnt come home i was so pissed i thought i was gonna have to walk down to the station.”

“home? you guys lived together?” you barely even noticed you let that slip out, quickly covering your wide eyes with a sip of your drink and a wave of your hand. “you know his home life wasnt the best so,,, you know he just stayed with me thats all.” you tried your best to make it sound as casual as possible but it was painfully obvious that wasnt the case.

bob couldnt wrap his head around this. he had no one during his youth or atleast he thought he did but why did your words seem so right to him. a couple more flashes appered in his mind. a warm quiet home, cozy to the point he was uncomfortable to be in there alone but he wasnt really alone was he? there was always someone by his side, sitting on the couch with him standing in the kitchen with him. something in the house standing out to him.

“the tapestry.” all eyes dart to bob who had been silent this whole time, your eyes widen in shock at his words. “it was so ugly.” your shocked face twists into mock anger as you cross your arms the smile on your face and the joy in your tone unable to hide how happy you were. “can you stop saying that? i worked really hard on that thing.” “it was so ugly..” “really? after all this time you still think its ugly,,,” you look at the confused group of heros and sigh, “when i first started to crochet i made a tapestry to hang on my wall in my apartment but this jackass always thought it was so ugly. i still have it you know.” “you should throw it out.”

he doesn’t know why he cant help but tease you, he doesn’t tease anyone but it seems like second nature. the affectionate look you have on your face as you fake glare at him fills his heart with a strange sensation.

“holy shit.” your face drops at walkers voice and you turn to glare at him. “you were his girlfriend werent you.”

your stomach plummets. everyone turns to look at you expecting you to outright deny it but when you are stuck frozen in shock staring at walker he starts to laugh. “no fucking way, you were his little girlfriend.”

he turns away, laughing like it was the funniest thing on earth as you stare daggers into his back. “shut the fuck up walker.” your tone has lost all the previous joy it once had as you stare at him with disgust.

as the group explodes in chaos bobs head spins, he can barely compose himself before you lean down towards him and whisper, “im sorry honey.”

honey. the nickname unlocks memories he had buried so deep down he had forgotten them.

he met you during 7th grade. you were desk mates, the overly friendly cheery girl who didn’t seem bothered by his lack of responses to your questions and shy demeanor. you sat with him during lunch, shared your notes with him, played with him during recess. you slowly became his whole world.

you ended up asking him to be your boyfriend in 8th grade at your middle school graduation and you started dating. when he dropped out of high school and left home had no clue what he was gonna do but you took him in, living alone in an apartment with your uncle who was never home made it easy enough for bob to move in with you. while you were at school he did things you didn’t like to think about but he always tried to be home by the time you go back from your after school job.

he was so happy. throughout his shitty life you were the only constant and good thing he had, he loved you so much he always cheered up when he saw you.

some particular memories stand out to him, one of them was when the two of you were at home. you were both 17. you had moved out of your uncles and bob came with you. it was a sunday your only true day off, his head was laying in your lap clearly he was on something but you didn’t seem you to mind.

you played with his hair and you read a book, his eyes were mindless on the tv show you had thrown on neither of you were paying attention to it. his eyes trailed off the tv and onto the wall. you had many different knickknacks and trinkets postered up on your walls. awards you won during school, gifts people gave you. but one thing caught his eyes and he grimaced.

“what is that?” you look down at him, following his line of sight towards your wall. “which thing honey?” he points to the tapestry you have hung on your wall. it was white, it looked like someone was in the middle but he couldn’t make it out. “its a tapestry.” “its ugly,” you punch him in the stomach and he groans, “i made that jackass.” he laughs as you wack him again, “sorry sorry its just wow that thing is hideous.” you huff in disbelief and cross your arms. “i worked really hard on it thank you very much.” “what even is that thing in the middle? a rat?” “its a flower you asshole.”

you throw your book to the side as you punch him and the two of you soon befall into a fit of laughter as he apologizes over and over and you keep on lightly hitting him. soon enough the two of you stop to caught your breaths. you lean your head to look at him and his heart swells at the pure affection in your gaze, he knows hes looking at you the exact same way. “i love you.” only after your bring your lips down to his and cup his face his heart calms down enough for him to be able to reply that he loves you too.

the next memory is the day before he had left you a few years later. he had been in jail for god knows what for the hundredth time. he always knows its you who bailed him out and he’s thankful for it. but as he’s walking out to see you the guard escorting him, it was a small town, you all knew each other, he had grown used to seeing this particular officer at the station but that day he had said something that bothered him. “shes such a smart girl. such a bright future ahead of her. such a shame shes stuck with you holding her down.”

it bothers him. it bothers him so much because its true. he cant even bring himself to smile or hug you back as you throw yourself to his arms. when you pull alway and cup his face concerned he tells you he’s fine and walks past you. its so clear you’re trying your best to cheer him up like you always did but he was so set in his plan not even you buying his favorite take out or cuddling him in bed could help.

it was later that night. the house was completely dark and quiet. the only sound he can hear is your soft breathing as you sleep and the whirling of the fan above you. he couldnt sleep, staring up at the ceiling, allowing himself to revel in your warmth one last time.

a few hours pass before he lets himself slip out of your arms. he gathers some things i had around your room and attempts to slip out but he freezes when he hears you groan. “honey what are you doing?” “just getting some water.” you hum and settle back down to sleep as he sighs in relief. right as he’s about to close the door he can hear you mumble loud enough for him to hear. “ill always love you honey.” he stands frozen. he almost just gives up, dropping all his shit and turning around and laying in bed with you without a care in the world. he cant. he knows he cant it would kill him. “i love you too.” he whispers to the air. you would never hear him say that as he closes the door and never turns back.

he leaves you a note, telling you hes leaving and not to look for him. by the time you wake up for college he’ll hopefully already be out of the state. he places the box he had made of all the stuff you got him on the coffee table in your living room taping the note ontop of it. he takes one long final glance around the room he would never see again as his heart breaks. memories run through his mind of every second you shared together, this is for the best he knows it is but it hurts. it hurts so much.

tears run down his face as he forces himself with the clothes on his back and the small stack of cash he gained from odd jobs you helped him get. it felt wrong to take any of the stuff you had given him, he didn’t deserve any of it he didn’t deserve you. he didn’t know where he was going just that he was going somewhere, somewhere far far away from you.

he could never stop thinking about you no matter how much time had passed. he cried so much he could barely do anything else. so he decided to forget. force himself to lock up the memories of you and the best years of his life, the only good memories he had forced away so he could try to do something else anything else with his life other than missing you.

“bob?” yelena leans in towards him concerned. he has no clue how much time has passed. you’re too busy yelling at walker as bucky holds you back. ava and alexei too entertained to notice him but yelena did. you turn back to look at him at the sound of his name and your eyes widen, throwing walker against the wall you rush towards him, ignoring the way walker groans and curses at you as you bend down to eye level with him. bob had tears streaming down his face, violently shaking, “i left you im sorry im sorry.” your face falls into a pout as you look at him, unable to say anything simply staring at him.

yelena stands up with one clap of her hands shes rushing everyone out the room. “everyone out lets go.“ “no i want to watch them.” nope everyone out.” it takes a minute but she quickly rushes everyone out of the room sparing you a smile before she closes the door leaving you alone with him. you silently thank her in your mind before turning you attention towards bob.

he covered his face with his hands as he sobbed into his palms. “bob?” he wouldn’t respond, too lost in his emotions so you sigh. standing up you grip his forearms and tug at them. “come on honey.” he atleast follows you this time, allowing him to pull you to sit on the floor with him, still not looking at you.

“i looked for you.” he twitches but doesn’t dare look up. “i spent the next week running around the city looking for you at every corner. i was so scared j was gonna find you laying on the ground in some alley way.” your words seems to make his crying worse as he cant stop mumbling over and over again how sorry he was. “even after that i spent so long looking for you in every person i came across. it was second nature to glance around the street to see if i would see you, hell i dont know if i ever even stopped doing that.”

“i couldnt be the one to ruin your life.” he finally allows himself to whisper the thing he’s always thought. you would have never been able to achieve what you have if he stayed by your side. he only would have dragged you down, you probably would still be living in that old run down apartment building in florida if he had stayed. your face falls and you look down at the ground, tears pooling up in your eyes. “bob.”

“you are so amazing, everyday i was in awe of you, i was the thing setting you back. i had to go but it hurt you im sorry.” you reach over and grip his forearm, you can feel him shaking under your grip and the tears begin to spill down your face. “im happy you left.“

he looks up at you alarmed. as if you had said the craziest thing ever but you looked beyond him to the window outside. “you were miserable.”

“no i was so happy with you-“ “but you were so unhappy with your life!” he flinches as you raise your voice, you quietly apologize and fix your volume before you speak again, you shouldn’t let your emotions take over you like that. “i could tell, every single day you were just so miserable, it made me so sad to think about when i went to school or work you were just sitting at home alone doing nothing but getting high or you were getting yelled at at some part time job. you deserved so much better, you think i was being dragged down by you i was the one dragging you down.”

he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. you had thought you were keeping him down? that was ridiculous. he was the one who was going to ruin your life. when he opened his mouth to stop you you continued to speak over him. “i would have been so content just staying in that stupid city in that stupid apartment with you because i would have been with you. if you stayed i probably would have graduated from that community college and get some job at some office there to support us but you never would have been happy. you deserved more than that. to go out there to go see the world leave that city you were stuck in.”

the grip you must have on his arm would kill another man but neither of you notice lost in your own world, “if you leaving me got you here im so happy you did. look at you, you’re a hero honey, just like you always wanted to be. “

he has nothing to say. his body still shaking, as more silent tears run down his face. he cant believe you had thought like this, your words feel unreal to him. he doesnt even know what emotion he’s feeling.

“im sorry.” its the only words he can force out of his mouth. his stomach pulled in knots as forces himself to look down at the floor. you know maybe it wasn’t the best decision to dump all that on him but you couldnt help it, the thoughts you had been thinking for over a decade finally spilling from your lips. you sit in silence for awhile. you know its not good to leave it off there.

“you know what the best apology you can give me is?” when your voice unintentionally cracks he weakly looks up at you, “if you can tell me you’re happy now, without the need to stick some needle in your arm or shoot some powder up your nose you’d make me so happy.”

he sniffs a bit, finally seemingly calmed down and nods. “theyre nice to me, um im happy. i haven’t even thought about that stuff in awhile, it feels so nice. im so happy.” you choke back the sob that builds in your throat, “then thats more than enough for me.” he places his hand on top of yours and the two of you just sit and smile at each other for a bit.

“hey you wanna go eat? theres this place i really like around here havent been in ages, you can even bring your friends ill call over some of mine too.” his smile grows larger than ever and happily nods.

you dont know what the future will hold for either of you, unexpectedly running into the man you could never forget was certain to stir up some feelings in you, but for now you were so happy to see him so happy.

[bartxnhood]

ANY VARIATION OF READER X THUNDERBOLTS BUCKY AND THE TEAM BEING TF U HAVE A GF THANK YOU AND ILY

girlfriend? | bucky barnes

| thunderbolts!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: john walker and minor thunderbolts spoilers!!!!!

a/n: YAY!!! IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE FOR BUCKY AND MARVEL AGAIN!!! i also decided that this would probably take place after the events of the movie, and i took inspiration from clint hiding his family but, with reader! so, i hope i did your vision justice!!

Copyright © 2025 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧

the smoke was dense and thick, making it almost impossible to see within five feet. the smell of sulfur and concrete filled the nostrils of the ‘new avengers’.

new york has seen yet another attack, this time by another outer space alien thingy that bucky couldn’t remember.

there’s a dreadful silence between the group, all stuck in their own minds, trying to figure out just what went wrong. how they got defeated so quickly.

he stood with his hands on his hips, trying to regain his breath after being slammed into a plethora of floors from one of the skyscrapers.

ava hunched over holding her midsection while also trying to catch her breath. yelena, leaning against a fallen slab of a building while clenching her arm. walker, somewhere else, blowing off steam as his shield was snapped in half, and alexei going on some sort of rant.

“it’s fine, this is fine” the broody older man speaks, his thick accent grating against buckys ears. “everybody get up!” the red guardian claps, trying to pump up the group. “we are the thunderbolts!!!”

yelena rolls her eyes, keeping a hand pressed on her arm, “dad, stop”. she looks at the man with sharp eyes. they say optimism is good to have on a team, but alexei had too much. it often got annoying.

turning a corner, walker, stuffing something in his suit pocket, looks to the others. “we’ve been compromised.”

ava stands, crossing her arms. “what?” she looks between bucky and yelena, who have the same look on their face. it isn’t dread, it isn’t worry, it’s something much worse.

alexei mutters some swear words in russian under his breath. and for a moment, no one knows what to do. they aren’t a team, they have no backup, and bucky knows that sam won’t help him.

yet again, he’s alone.

“well, what now?” ava asks, her attention trained on the white widow. “ah!” alexei holds up his fingers, then snaps, carrying a proud look on his face. “a safe house!”

everyone pauses, stealing glances at each other with a blank expression. clearly growing tired of the red guardians persona. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me..” ava exasperates, before taking a few steps away from the group.

bucky contemplates for a moment, hes staring off at the gray rubble beneath his black boots. he only had a handful of options, one of those being sam. as he was not on the best terms with sam, he figured his last option would suffice. you.

“i know a place.”

the sun was just rising, its misty rays barely peeking through the thick fog. the air was cool and damp, the ground beneath covered with an early morning dew. a cabin tucked away amidst the trees stood silent and still, as if waiting to welcome the day.

the trees surrounding the cabin were barely visible through the dense fog, their leaves shimmering with dewdrops like tiny jewels on their green surfaces. the air was silent, save for the soft sound of the nearby river.

stepping off the quinjet, bucky stopped at the edge of the ramp, looking at his home he shared with you. he felt happy to be back home, but a part of him dreaded the following events.

bucky knew he was risking everything by bringing the others to his home, to you. someone who bucky made sure to keep hidden from everyone. he didn’t do it because he was ashamed or didn’t love you, but he did it because he loved you so much. it was better to keep you off file and off record, for your safety.

if anything happened to you, bucky would’ve surely lost his mind.

“why the hell are we at a cabin, bucky?” walker quips, following the other super soldier. “we can’t go on vacation now.”

“shut up, walker,” bucky snaps, shooting a glaring look over his shoulder as he waits for the rest of the others to fall in behind him. “what are we doing here? we clearly need a safe house,” yelena chimes in, ava and alexei adding something under their breaths.

bucky can already feel himself getting agitated with the anti-heroes. it’s hard enough working with people that collectively cannot get along, it was doomed from the veining. “it’s safe, just trust me.”

crossing the threshold of the dark oak cabin, the scent of fresh laundry mixed with mahogany, vanilla, and cashmere filled his nostrils, and in an instant, the tension in his shoulders dropped.

home. the living room was cleaned, and a few blankets on the leather sofa. you must've napped. a few records scattered around the record table, one still on the turntable, but the record had stopped playing long ago.

“baby? i’m home!” he calls out, not seeing any sign of your presence as he steps into the living room. it’s quiet, almost too quiet. bucky steps further in. “baby doll?”

the team steps in hesitantly, their hands hovering over whatever they have to defend themselves with. sharing puzzled glances with each other as bucky calls out to you.

you emerge from the stairway with a laundry basket on your hip. a quiet gasp gets caught in your throat as your eyes look past your boyfriend and see his co-workers. “what the..” you mutter, your eyes finally landing on bucky. “bucky?”

“we had nowhere else to go,” he explains, the wear and tear of fighting visible on his body. his eyes hold even more exhaustion than he let on.

you drop the laundry basket on the sofa and approach him, he hopes his arms and pulls you in, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

yelena interrupts, “Im sorry..” the blonde holds out her hands, nose crunching with confusion. “what the hell is happening here?”

“yeah..what the hell is this?” walker stands behind yelena, his arms crossed now.

“guys, meet my girlfriend, y/n,” he introduced, holding you by his side. his thumb rubbing up and down your shoulders.

“hi..” you smile, holding up your hand to wave awkwardly. your freehand wrapping around buckys midsection.

the team is left speechless, all mouths are open, but no words are formed.

“girlfriend?!” yelena is flabbergasted, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

“oh! this is wonderful!! alexei is pushing past the other three, walking towards you with a big, dopey smile. “young love!” he cheered, clapping loudly.

you laugh awkwardly, again, because what do you do when the avengers are standing in your house?

“buck?” you look up at him, he had a less than amused look on his face.

“we just need some place to lay low, get patched up. i didn’t know what else to do.”

“ah, okay,” you pat his chest playfully, an amused laugh coming from you. “i can help with that.”

“girlfriend…” walker whispers as you begin leading the group downstairs to a makeshift med bay.

“shut it, walker!” buckys voice booms from a few feet ahead.

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[callsign-swan]

Cover up

The Thunderbolts* are onto him, but Bob has the perfect little cover up.

Part 2 to sneaking around (can be read as a standalone)

"She's cute."

Bob stopped, the elevator doors sliding shut behind him. For a good moment, everybody else had the vision of him being dragged to the floor, the back of his sweater caught.

But that didn't happen.

Bob swallowed as he looked at Yelena. The woman that had become his best friend since he'd learnt to enjoy life again, since he found somewhere he belonged.

It didn't feel right to lie.

"She? Who's she?" John asked, unintentionally saving Bob's ass. Giving him the time he needed to think of a good lie.

Well, it would have been a good lie, if he didn't look so damn panicked.

"I was at the shelter!" Bob said quickly. "Gonna adopt a cat."

"We don't need another cat," Bucky said from the sofa, his flesh arm against his forehead as he laid there. On his chest, Alpine seemed to purr louder.

But Bob doubled down. "This would be my cat," he explained, his forehead beginning to sweat. "Company while you guys are saving the world."

"Bob's a cat guy," John muttered as he walked away. "Who knew?"

But Yelena wasn't buying it. Of course she wasn't; she was the one that had witnessed Bob out on a date. She was the one who had seen him buy flowers, seen him kiss her forehead and hold her hand.

So, she once more followed Bob. "Buying a cat my ass!" She called after him as they walked the corridors of the watch tower. "You were on a date!"

"It wasn't a date!" Bob insisted, his hands doing most of the talking. "We're just... friends."

"Friends don't treat each other like that, Bob," she insisted. "Friends don't buy bouquets of flowers that nice for each other. Friends don't kiss each others foreheads and hold hands."

For a moment, Bob stared at her. She was right, he was more than friends with that girl, but Yelena was dead wrong. He made a mental note to get her some flowers. Maybe not kiss her forehead, not if he wanted to keep breathing.

"Just..." he sucked in a breath. "I'm not ready to tell the others yet. Can we keep this between us?"

Lips pursed, arms folded over her chest, she was the image of a stern mother. But then she dropped her arms. "We can keep this between us," he said and patted his shoulder.

Bob let himself smile before he disappeared into his room.

***

"Stop squirming," he whispered to the little bundle in his arms. The elevator carried them both up and Garfield wouldn't stop.

Garfield. She wasn't even an orange cat. She wasn't even a male. Nothing about her said Garfield, but that was her name.

The absurdity of the entire situation hadn't yet hit Bob.

Maybe it was because she was at the shelter with him, playing with the dogs (he couldn't handle having a dog) and cuddling with the cats. She had been the one to pick Garfield.

"It's bad luck to change her name," she told him as she carried the pet carrier, Bob's hand on her back.

"Trust me," Bob said, stopping outside of her apartment. "I don't need anymore bad luck."

So the grey cat with the sweet pink nose was Garfield.

Her story wasn't a tragedy. A home with kids and she didn't like kids. Bob could work with that. Bob could give her a good life.

"Oh my god he really did it," Yelena muttered, looking up from her game of cards.

Garfield raised her head from the crook of Bob's elbow (he'd taken her out of the carrier as soon as they were inside).

"Everybody, this is Garfield," he said, placing her carrier down to scratch the top of her head. "This is definitely who Yelena was talking about the other week."

All eyes were on him. "Garfield?" At least three people asked.

"Like, the 'I hate mondays' guy?" John asked.

"He's not Garfield coloured," Ava finished.

"She," Bob corrected.

The New Avengers stared at him, unblinking. "She?" Bucky asked. "She's called Garfield?"

"Bob-" John stopped himself from adding two more letters, from turning it into a name full of bad memories. "Bob, you gotta change her name."

"I can't," he answered. "Bad luck."

John's eyebrows raised. "Bad luck?"

"'S bad luck to change a cats name once you've adopted it." Plus, she loved the name, but the New Avengers didn't need to know that.

When Garfield yawned, the room seemed to soften. Earth's new mightiest heroes gave a collective 'aww' and moved closer.

While they all stared at her, pet her grey fur and let her sniff their hands with her pink nose, Yelena looked at Bob. One point to him, she guessed. Plus, Garfield really was the cutest little cover up.

[muqingslover]

This question is related to the last ask you posted, but what do you think the lads men most unexpected/unconventional turn-on would be?

Your depiction of Zayne got me thinking, what is that shy man gonna do if mc finds his "weak" spot lol. Cuz yeah, obviously he'd be turned on about his beloved sending him risky pictures BUT the moment mc realises one of his unexpected turn ons that maybe he himself wasn't even aware of? Oh lawd.

[ this one had me thinking for days oh my goodness! Just a heads up, I got carried away with some of these...very carried away.....shhh. ]

Your lips.

Alright, alright, i know it sounds confusing but stick with me here.

I've thrown some of my takes on his kinks around but I didn't want to repeat myself so I spent some time stewing over this.

Eventually I landed on the idea that Zayne would be very particular about sharing anything that touched your lips, especially before an official relationship.

Drinking from the same straw, sharing the same spoon, tasting something you already bit into it— It's an instant way of getting his poor mind to go into overdrive.

He is a very proper and respectful man. He doesn't like to have indecent thoughts about you, but the idea that his lips touched something yours did as well make him all tingly and shy.

Massages.

He loooooves the feeling of your weight pressing down on his hips when you straddle him, though that's not even the tip of the iceberg as to why he is so into this.

Your hands are truly magical when it comes to getting rid of the few knots on his body and the further he relaxes, the further Xavier begins to grow more aware of you.

The comforting weight is slowly causing him to grind against the mattress under him each time you shifted on top of him and the way your hands make their way down his bare spine has him biting the pillow sheets.

Not to mention that the minute your fingernails scratch his scalp in an otherwise affectionate gesture he nearly cums in his pants.

His ears and neck feel so hot he decides to bury his face in the pillow to keep you from noticing.

He would either flip the tables on you at some point or (try to) go to sleep in hope everything would be fine once he wakes up again.

Gentleness.

That's right. You heard me. This man will crumble at your feet every time you care for him like he's a pretty princess.

I'm not necessarily talking about grand gestures. Simple and natural ones are the most effective. The type that you wouldn't even notice you are doing it.

Slow caresses on his shoulder or hands, checking to see if he's alright while cradling his face, patiently explaining something to him, wiping his face if there was something on it, running your fingers through his hair... ECT.

He has a distinct memory of you being so worried about him when he scrapped his hand during his daily troubles— It was no different than a paper cut to him, but the blood made it seem worse than it actually was and that caused you to immediately fuss.

He watched with such genuine adoration as you tended to his wounds; Your furrowed eyebrows as you focused, the soft concern in your voice when you asked if the disinfectant stung and how could Sylus not pretend that it hurt? Just a little bit. Just enough to hear more of your encouragement that it was almost done and he was doing well.

Trust me, it will lead to him kissing you without warning, seemingly out of nowhere, once it's done and prepare yourself for the best night ever.

(I cut this short like four times and still ended up being long....oh well.)

Helping him with his clothes.

Each time you fix his crooked, poorly tied necktie (which he absolutely hates to wear) or straighten up his collar for him Rafayel is fighting back demons.

This also applies to you helping him actually dress up (or undress) and picking out his outfits without him having to ask.

The sight of you standing in front of him, hands swiftly buttoning up his shirt, has him weak in the knees. It makes him feel as you're truly his partner. That this is the married life the two of you deserved to have eons ago.

Speaking of undressing, this naughty fish will absolutely tease you about unbuckling his belt.

He would take a seat on a nearby chair with a dramatic sigh before he asked for you to help him with his clothes because he was oh so very tired to do it himself.

He leans back against the chair as if it was his own personal throne, knees slack as he spread comfortably and tilts his head to the side to rest it on his hand.

"I have an early morning tomorrow, you know. Won't you finish helping me so we can head to bed?" It sounds innocent enough, rather playful even, but the expression on his face is anything but. Just look at the volume on his pants, he ain't fooling anybody.

Hearing his own name + Whispering.

Last but most definitely not least, everyone's favorite boy.

It doesn't matter what's happening the second you say his name his full attention is on you. It's like a very well trained dog.

He can tell what you're feeling, sometimes even thinking, based on the way you call him alone. It comes with the years of experience of being your best friend.

It however also comes with the perpetual problem that his body reacts so well to your voice that it ends up being a little *too* well.

You may be in the middle of an argument yet the moment you say his name Caleb would be fighting back a boner. upcoming fic sneakpeek—i mean what

Another odd turn on of his is when you whisper something in his ear.

It doesn't really matter what you're saying. The sound of your voice so close to him and the way he can feel your warm breath tickling his skin is enough to have this man crossing his legs and praying his bulge is subtle.

You can imagine the nightmare this was during teen years when the two of you would sneak around grandma's house.

[biggianteggplant]

"Operation: Sit, Bounce, Vanish"

Just Y/N casually grinding and bouncing on them then proceeds to get up and leave lol

KUROO TETSURO

Kuroo was manspreading like he paid rent just to do that. Hair messy. Shirt slightly wrinkled. Smug expression baked onto his face like it was his full-time job. He looked like the human equivalent of a “you up?” text.

You stared. Then smirked. Then slowly—without a word—walked over and shoved him onto the couch with the grace of a goddess and the menace of someone who’s waited exactly three weeks and four hours for this moment.

“Whoa—okay, hi,” he chuckled, arms up like he was ready for a good time. “You finally giving in, huh? Couldn’t resist me?”

You didn’t answer.

You straddled him. Dead silent. No smile. Eyes locked.

And then you started moving.

Slow grind. Full bounce. Nothing wild, just enough to make him twitch like a malfunctioning robot. The pressure? Exactly dangerous. The eye contact? Murderous.

He choked on a breath.

You moaned.

“T-tetsu..u~”

Like it was the climax of a soap opera. Like you were standing on a balcony in the rain in a gown screaming your dying lover’s name. Like you were about to win a BAFTA for this role.

He blinked. “H-hey, uh—babe?” His voice cracked like cheap glass.

Your hands rested on his chest.

You moaned again. Softer. Darker.

Then… you stopped.

Got up.

Walked off.

Deadpan face. Not a single look back. Not a word. Not a smirk.

Kuroo sat up so fast he nearly pulled a back muscle. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait—what just happened?”

Silence.

“…Was that revenge? What did I do? BABE? WHAT DID I DO???”

He stood, nearly tripped over air, and yelled into the hallway.

“I—I LIKED YOUR INSTAGRAM POST. I SWEAR. I DIDN’T FORGET OUR ANNIVERSARY. PLEASE, WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

You, meanwhile, were in the kitchen calmly eating cereal like none of that happened.

Kuroo, clutching the back of the couch, whispering to himself: “…I’m in danger.”

KENMA KOZUME

Kenma was in the zone—shoulders hunched, headset on, fingers moving with sniper-level precision. You could hear the quiet tapping of his keyboard, the occasional mutter under his breath, and the distant sound of his teammate yelling, "LEFT! LEFT—NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!"

You approached silently, sock-footed like a cat with bad intentions.

He didn’t notice you at first. Typical. Zoned in.

Until you casually climbed into his lap like it was your god-given throne.

He froze.

“…You good?” he mumbled, barely glancing at you, one hand still on the mouse.

Then you started soft grinding—gentle movements, slow and warm. Nothing aggressive. Just… suggestive. Cozy. Dangerous.

You leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “K..kozume~..hnn” you whispered.

The sound of gunfire blasted through his headset.

He paused mid-match.

Dead silent.

His cheeks flushed pink instantly, ears visibly heating. “...You’re being weird again.”

But his fingers slowly slipped off the keyboard. And he hit ESC.

HE PAUSED AN ONLINE MATCH. FOR YOU.

“Okay…” he mumbled, voice small, clearly rattled. “I guess I can play later.”

You smiled. Just a little.

Then without a word—you stood up and walked away.

Kenma sat there. Motionless.

He stared at the empty space on his lap like it had just punched him in the heart.

“…You can’t just cause emotional lag and leave,” he muttered, still stunned. “I—I PAUSED FOR YOU. That was ranked…”

In the distance, your soft laughter echoed like a final killcam.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto was sprawled on the couch, legs wide, phone angled up, watching volleyball highlight reels like they were gospel. He was in the zone—nodding, hyping himself up, whispering “That’s how you block, baby, YES,” like he hadn’t watched the same clip five times.

You walked in with an expression that said destruction was on the menu and Bokuto was the special.

“Hey babe!” he greeted loudly, full beam smile. “You wanna see this cool spike from—”

You didn’t answer.

You straddled him.

He blinked. “…Oh.”

And then you started.

All in.

Full bounce. Hands draped dramatically behind his neck like a diva about to faint from the tension. Whimpers, soft moans, and your voice drawing out: “hngh..k-kou..a-aa~” Like he was a forbidden snack and you were on a juice cleanse.

His brain fried.

Completely.

“UH—UH—BABE?!” he half-yelled, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to touch, where to look, whether to cry or scream.

He was absolutely flustered, mouth slightly open, cheeks red, heartbeat syncing with every grind. Volleyball highlights? Forgotten. There was only you and his complete mental shutdown.

You gave a final whimper. Rested your forehead against his.

Then stood up.

And left.

Just.

Walked out.

Bokuto stared at the empty air where you once were. Still seated like a cursed statue.

“…BABE?!”

He launched up from the couch, flailing after you.

“HELLO?! WHAT WAS THAT?! COME BACK!! I WAS ENJOYING THAT! I WAS SO INTO IT!! DO IT AGAIN!!”

In the kitchen, you stirred your drink in silence, deadpan, as if you hadn't just mentally exploded a man with fully-clothed cardio.

Bokuto, clinging to the doorframe like a war widow: “I’M WHIPPED AND I DON’T CARE. PLEASE.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

Akaashi was having a peaceful afternoon. Chamomile tea. A book with too many footnotes. Lo-fi playing like the world made sense.

And then—you entered.

Dead silent. Eyes locked on him like judgment day just arrived in thigh-high socks.

He glanced up. "Hello, love," he said, suspicious but polite.

You didn’t answer.

You climbed into his lap like you had a mission, and his thighs were the launch pad.

His hands stayed frozen mid-page.

Then—bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Soft and sinful, like a PG-13 exorcism. “K-keiji..h-ha-a~” you moaned.

A single vein in his forehead twitched. He blinked slowly, like a man calculating whether this was a dream, a prank, or divine punishment.

“Darling,” he said with dangerous calm, “what is this?”

But he was already gone. Mentally wiped. That page of the book? Unreadable. Text? Just blurry noodles. You were bouncing like this was a demonic ritual and he was the altar.

Then—you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

And LEFT.

You LEFT.

No explanation. No tongue. Not even a "brb."

Just... air.

Akaashi didn’t move for five whole minutes. Eyes glassy. Tea still steeping. Book sliding off his lap in slow motion.

Inside his head:

“Is this psychological warfare? Did I forget an anniversary? Did I accidentally vote for something evil in a group chat?”

Out loud, monotone: “…That was… bold of you.”

Another five minutes passed.

Still motionless. Still on the couch. The scent of your shampoo lingering like a war crime.

He finally muttered, “…Was I supposed to say something? Applaud? Cry? Ascend to heaven?”

Then he picked up his phone. Opened a group chat titled: “📚 Book Men and Bokuto.”

Akaashi:

She bounced on me, moaned my name, then left. What does it mean.

Bokuto:

BRO SAME I’M STILL BREATHING HEAVY SHE’S A MENACE 😭

Kuroo:

Just accept it. We’re dating chaos in eyeliner.

Akaashi looked out the window. Took a long, exhausted sip of his now-cold tea.

“…I am suffering. Elegantly.”

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

Goshiki was chillin’. Hoodie on. Headphones in. Probably listening to something overly dramatic like the Haikyuu soundtrack or a TED Talk on mental resilience.

He didn’t stand a chance.

You walked in with zero warning. No explanation. No mercy.

Before he could say, “Huh?” you pushed him gently onto the bed. Straddled him. Planted yourself down like he was your chair and life was a stage.

Then you started bouncing.

Soft, slow. Intentional.

“Tsutomu..h-ha..why are so w-warm..hngh~” you moaned — drawn out, sugary-sweet, like you were reading it off a Wattpad page in real time.

His whole body seized up.

“W-WHAT THE—?!”

Hands flailed. Legs went stiff. Brain? Overheated. He felt like someone had kicked his soul out his spine.

You leaned in closer, let out the tiniest whimper — not loud, but close. Just enough to make his ears turn red and his heart go supersonic.

And then—you LEFT.

Just. Got. Up. No closure. No forehead kiss. You just dipped like this was some random Tuesday ritual and not his villain origin story.

He sat there frozen. Mouth parted. Chest rising and falling way too fast.

Then—he whimpered.

Just a tiny, high-pitched noise. Unplanned. From the throat. Like his soul sighed through his mouth.

“…Ahh—” Immediately slapped a hand over his lips. “WHY—WHY DID I MAKE A NOISE?!”

He flopped backwards dramatically, arms spread like a Shakespearean corpse.

“She’s going to kill me one day… and I’ll thank her.”

Face still bright red. Still hearing the sound of your voice like it was echoing in a cathedral. Still lowkey hoping you’d come back and do it again so he could “react better this time” (he wouldn’t).

And in the hallway, you smiled.

Mission: chaos. Status: accomplished.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Ushijima Wakatoshi was doing his usual — sitting on the couch like a fortress, silently eating protein snacks and watching volleyball footage like it was the evening news.

Then she walked in.

Confident. Calm. Dressed like danger.

He didn’t even blink when she shoved him back gently onto the cushions and straddled him. That wasn’t what alarmed him. He’d seen many unorthodox warm-ups in his time.

Then—

Bounce. Bounce. “Wakatoshi~”

She moaned it with full anime-level dramatics, sultry and slow like she’d been practicing. Her hands went on his shoulders for balance, hips rocking in steady rhythm. Fully clothed. No actual plan. Just chaos and vibes.

Ushijima’s brows pulled together.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice low and deadly serious. “Is this… a new kind of stretch?”

You didn’t answer. You just gave one last confident roll of your hips, leaned in like you were going to say something profound…

And then you walked away. Like nothing happened.

Left him there on the couch — straight posture, blank expression… and fully hard.

Silence.

He stared straight ahead at the door like it had just personally betrayed him.

Took one slow breath through his nose. Chest rising just slightly.

“She’s strange,” he murmured. “I love her.”

Looked down at himself. Back up. Then whispered, louder this time:

“…She’s going to come back, right?”

Pause.

No answer.

He sat there, motionless. Internally screaming. Externally still built like a demigod statue.

Conclusion: Training couldn’t prepare him. Love is terrifying. And he’s going to need to shower cold water and repentance.

SHIRABU KENJIRO

Shirabu was minding his business, sitting cross-legged on the floor, skimming through his notes like he wasn’t 100% hot in a cardigan. Completely in peace.

Then she came in like a war crime.

With purpose. With eyebrow energy. With chaotic woman agenda.

She straddled his lap like he owed her rent and started bouncing. Not wild. Just steady. Unbothered. Calculated. Evil.

“jiro...h-ha!~” She moaned his name like it was the finale of a play and she was up for a Tony.

He blinked. His soul buffered.

“Tch. You’re annoying.” Tone flat. Words sharp. Voice trembling like a wet cat.

But his whole face was glowing red like a strawberry in denial. Hands on his knees. Back perfectly straight. Losing his will to live one slow grind at a time.

She gave one final roll of her hips. Then stood up like it was jury duty and left.

Walked away. Blank face. Like she didn’t just emotionally obliterate him.

He sat there in stunned silence. Hands still on his knees like he was in timeout.

Then he snapped.

“...I—HEY! WAIT! I didn’t mean it like that!”

Scrambled to his feet like he was being evicted from peace.

“Come back! I meant like... annoying in a cute way?? Like—you’re MY annoying?!”

Voice cracking, ego gone. Left behind, staring at the empty space where she used to be, gripping his own hair like a man who just said “I don’t care” and then immediately cared so hard.

HINATA SHOYO

Hinata was chilling on the bed, humming to himself and swinging his legs like a golden retriever who just discovered a new flavor of yogurt.

He didn’t notice her creeping up until it was too late.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

She dropped onto his lap like the final boss of temptation and started bouncing. Full send. Championship-level rhythm. Gold medal-worthy grind. Fully clothed but somehow emotionally naked.

Leaning in, she whispered into his ear, dripping honey and chaos:

“Sho~”

He flatlined.

“WH-WHA—BABE?! ARE YOU OKAY?!” His soul ejected through his nose. Brain? 404 not found. His hands were in the air like he was under arrest by the goddess of seduction herself.

She didn't stop. Just grinded harder. Whimpering softly. Like this was HER volleyball final and she was spiking with every bounce.

And then—HE MOANED.

A tiny, breathy “nn–ah,” like his dignity was trying to claw its way out of his throat and failed.

And then she LEFT. Skipped away. Humming. Like she just didn't emotionally set him on fire and walk away like an arsonist in glitter.

He sat there, cross-eyed. Face red. Hands on his chest like he just got hit by a car made of hormones.

“Oh my god.” “Oh my GOD.” “I’m in love. I’m in danger. I need water.”

Collapsed backwards into the bed like his body just said “I forfeit.”

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsukishima was on the couch, headphones on, pretending he didn’t need love or attention, when she pounced.

Literally pounced.

One second: peace.

Next second: Lap. Bouncing. Moaning.

“Tsukki” She purrs it in his ear like a cursed ASMR channel sent straight from hell.

He freezes. Eyes wide. Neck stiff. Blush detonates. You could roast marshmallows on his cheeks.

“Ugh. What are you doing?” His voice comes out flat. Emotionless. Lying. Lying through his damn teeth.

She keeps going. Little playful grind here, tiny whimper there, body warm against his in all the worst-best ways. Then—

She gets up. Walks away. Like she didn’t just shake the foundation of his emotional stability.

He’s left sitting there, arms folded, jaw clenched like a Victorian man whose ankle was just exposed.

Pushes up his glasses with a trembling hand “Why are you so weird.”

Deadpan voice. Wild panic.

Later, Yamaguchi walks in to ask if he wants to go out, only to find Tsukki sitting there, still pink, glasses fogged up, muttering to himself:

“I hate her. I love her. I hate her. I need her to do that again.”

KITA SHINSUKE

Kita was folding laundry.

FOLDING LAUNDRY.

Peaceful. Domestic. Soft music playing. He had just finished lining up the socks by size, color, and life purpose when—

SHE SAT ON HIM.

Not aggressively. Not violently. Just… sat. And started bouncing.

Gentle. Rhythmic. Purposeful.

Like she was trying to awaken something ancient inside him.

“Shinsuke~” She moaned it like she was trying to get cast in the spiciest drama Japan's ever banned.

He blinked. Once. Heart rate: up. Stability: on fire.

“Are you… feeling unwell, love?” he asked, as if his voice wasn't one octave higher and vibrating with restraint.

She grinds again.

His hands grip her thighs like prayer beads.

He grunts. Then a tiny whimper slips out—traitorous. He covers it with a cough like he’s trying to convince God he’s still worthy.

His face is red, like a polite tomato having a breakdown.

“Darling, this isn’t sanitary. The clean towels are right there…”

She just smiles sweetly. Innocently. Like she didn’t just weaponize softness and decimate his will to stand.

And then?

She walks off. Like it was just another Tuesday.

Kita remains seated. Hands politely folded behind his back. Eyes blank. Soul ascending.

“…That girl’s gonna give me gray hair.” “And I’ll thank her for every strand.”

MIYA OSAMU

It was a quiet afternoon at Onigiri Miya.

The rice was hot. The kitchen was calm. Osamu was in his element, apron on, hair tied up, wrist flicking like a trained chef-slash-lowkey-dilf—

Until she pounced.

No warning. No hesitation. Just: BOUNCE.

Lap? Occupied. Voice? Breathless.

“Osamuuu~” She moaned it like she was trying to get arrested and liked the idea.

He blinked up at her with a smile that said “ha ha you’re cute” but his BRAIN said:

“YOU WANNA DO THIS RIGHT NOW WHILE I’M HOLDING A RICE SCOOP?!”

“Keep this up and I’m proposing today,” he teased, hand sliding to her waist like it wasn’t lowkey trembling.

She just smirked. Gave one last bounce for dramatic effect. Then stood up.

Winked.

Walked off.

Like she didn’t just shake him to his core and make him rethink his whole life plan in one minute.

Osamu sat there. Alone. Flushed. Emotionally fried like his best tempura.

He put down the rice scoop, stared at the door she disappeared through, and whispered like a man in a Netflix romance mini-series:

“...I’m actually gonna propose. Damn.”

MIYA ATSUMU

Atsumu was reclining like he owned the Earth.

Legs spread, arms up, smug levels critical. Smirking like, “Yeah, baby, you’re lucky I’m free today.”

That was before she sat on him. Hard.

Started grinding and moaning “tsumuuu~ a-ah! fuck..” like it was a performance art piece for chaos and psychological warfare.

His smirk faltered. Just a little. Then—bounce.

“H-hah—okay—okay! Someone’s feelin’ frisky t’day—!” Smug was cracking like drywall in an earthquake.

Another bounce.

He whines.

Then WHIMPERS. LOUDLY. Voice breaks. Accent slips.

“Aw hell, darlin’—wh-what’re ya tryna do t’me?!”

FULL SOUTHERN DESCENT. Kansai accent hitting so raw it sounded like a back-alley confession.

He’s sweating. Whining. Head back like he saw God and got rejected.

Then.

SHE GETS UP. AND WALKS AWAY.

Like she didn’t just spiritually decimate one of Japan’s finest athletes in under 2 minutes.

Atsumu sits there, jaw unhinged. Hands limp at his sides. Soul in orbit.

He blinks slowly. Watches her leave like she’s walking away from the wreckage of his ego’s funeral.

“...Ya can’t just leave me like this,” he mutters to the door. “That was... illegal. You’re illegal.” “I whimpered. I ain't never whimpered in my damn life!”

Silence.

Then he YELLS:

“WAS IT THE ACCENT?! I SWEAR I’LL TONE IT DOWN—JUST COME BACK!!!”

KYOTANI KENTARO

She didn’t ask. Didn’t warn. Just straddled his lap with the calm audacity of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

He was mid-sentence. Now? He was mid-heart attack.

“H-Hey—wait, what—”

Then she leans in. Close.

Hot breath against his neck. Her lips ghost over his jaw. Slowly. Softly. Like she’s learning the texture of his skin just to haunt him later.

And then—she kisses him.

Not a quick peck. Not playful.

It’s deep. Slow. Spicy as hell. The kind of kiss that clings to his mouth even when it’s over.

His hands shoot up, gripping her waist so hard he thinks he might bruise her, but she just presses in more, bounces slowly in his lap like she’s reading every single one of his reactions.

“Kentaro~ nn- HaH!” she breathes right into his mouth. Bounces again.

He sees god. Then he sees hell. Then he forgets how to see.

“W-what the—what is this?!” His voice is too high, too desperate. He’s already hard. Already clenching her thighs like they’re life rafts.

She just leans in again, brushes his ear with her lips, and whispers filth that fries what’s left of his sanity.

“You’re so easy to break, you know that?”

Kisses him again. He groans into her mouth—loud—almost embarrassingly so. He grabs at her again, this time more forcefully—

And she flicks his hand away.

Stands. Fixes her shirt. Walks away like she just didn’t turn him into a walking hormone cocktail.

Kyotani is left on the couch, sweating, hard, and absolutely stunned. Face flushed, fists clenched, lips swollen, staring at the empty hallway like it personally betrayed him.

“That was love,” he mutters hoarsely. “I hate it here. I love it here.”

He doesn’t move for five full minutes. Still. Quiet. Processing.

Then under his breath:

“...I’m gonna marry her or die trying.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

She straddles him on the couch like it’s her throne and he’s just lucky to be her footstool. Hands on his chest. Eyes locked on his.

Then the bounce starts.

Slow. Rhythmic. Intentional. And then—

“haji~” she moans like she’s reading lines in a romance drama with too much budget and not enough shame.

His jaw tightens.

“Oi,” he warns, gripping her hips, “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He's blushing. Hard. And it only gets worse when she grinds a little too good and too slow—right there.

His hands twitch on her waist. His whole body flinches like someone hit him with a volleyball spike to the soul.

“Seriously—stop playin’ around,” he mumbles, but it sounds more like a plea than a threat. He’s getting warm. Real warm. Real fast.

She just leans forward like she’s gonna kiss him.

Spoiler: she doesn’t. She hovers. Inches from his lips. Bounces again, lips curled in mischief.

He groans. Low. Threatening. Desperate. Hard.

And then?

She gets up.

Just hops off. Fixes her shirt. Leaves. No explanation. No glance back. Just vibes.

Iwaizumi sits there—wide-eyed, wrecked, emotionally tazed.

Staring into the middle distance like a man who saw the future and it was terrifyingly horny.

“...She’s gonna be the death of me,” he mutters to no one.

He stays there. Still blushing. Still adjusting his pants like his life didn’t just flash before his eyes with soft moans and denim friction.

And yet? He smiles.

“...Not a bad way to go, though.”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t ask for this.

He was just sitting on the couch, minding his business, sipping tea, probably judging someone silently for existing wrong.

Then she came in. Straddled him like she paid rent on his thighs. Set her hands on his chest like it was hers—which, okay, maybe it was—and gave him a smile that screamed danger.

“Get off,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose. “You didn’t even wash your hands after touching the doorknob—”

Then she started bouncing. Slow. Hypnotic. Criminal. And the worst part? She moaned his name.

“Kiyoomi~” Like she was casting a spell. Like he was the main character in a fanfic. Like she knew what she was doing.

His breath caught. His tea almost fell. His sanity left the group chat.

“Y-you—what is this?!” he choked, voice jumping an octave. He wasn’t ready. His thighs weren’t ready. His pants? Absolutely not ready.

She leaned forward, breath hot against his neck, lips just close enough to not be kissing him.

“You mad?” she whispered.

“No,” he whispered back, voice shaking. “I’m terrified.”

Her hips moved. Again. Slower. Deeper.

He whimpered. Quiet. Shameful. Hidden behind gritted teeth and clenched fists.

But she heard it. She felt it. She thrived.

“Oh my god,” he groaned under his breath, gripping the couch cushion like it personally offended him. “You’re actually evil. You were sent to test me. This is a biohazard.”

Another bounce. Another whimper. This time louder. Desperate.

She kissed under his ear. Not sweet. Not soft. Intentional.

“Stop,” he whispered, clearly not meaning it.

“Make me.”

He groaned. His hands trembled on her thighs, like he didn’t know whether to push her off or pull her closer and die honorably.

“You’re ruining my life,” he hissed, head thrown back.

“And your boxers.”

She grinded one last time, slow enough to melt bone. Then—like a demon in disguise—she got up.

Just stood, fixed her shirt, and walked away.

No eye contact. No goodbye. Not even a damn wipe of his forehead.

Sakusa sat there. Breathing like he just ran a marathon. Harder than a physics exam. Staring into the void like he saw God and God was a woman with killer thighs.

He pulled a throw pillow into his lap and whispered to no one: “…I’m filing a report.”

[nottsangel]

Just thinking of how good the sex will be with Military!theo after he returns home after being away

“fuck, i’ve missed you” theo murmurs as both of you clumsily stumble into the bedroom, breathing ragged and uneven, the wet smacks of kissing filling the room. his big hands grab at your clothing with fervor, pulling you closer to him, desperation and desire evident in each tug, kiss, and groan.

“jump.” he orders, and you obey instantly as he effortlessly lifts you up, pinning your back against the cold wall, your legs wrapping around his muscular torso. his hands possessively squeeze your ass, fingers marking their territory all over as his hot breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine. his mouth latches onto your neck, planting sloppy, wet kisses on your skin that make your cunt throb.

“i’ve been thinking about this every damn day, baby. you kept me sane out there.” he drawls as he frantically undresses you. his grip is firm, unrelenting, yet he still tries to take his time, savour each moment, reminding himself not to rush— but the second you roll your hips against his erection and breathe out his name so prettily, he snaps.

in no time, the floor is littered with pieces of clothing, his cock nudging at your entrance, eager to push in— but he doesn’t move, and you furrow your brows in frustration. he gently grips your jaw between his thumb and index finger, tilting your face to meet his assertive gaze.

“what is it that you want, princess?” a sly smirk tugs at his lips, his blue eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes, hungry. “c’mon. let me hear how much you missed my cock.”

“i want you, theo… please. need you to fuck me— right now.”

“atta girl.” he pushes into you in one quick thrust, a hiss escaping him at the tight feeling as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. in all these months apart, you forgot just how big he is— stretching you wide as he quickly finds a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, his balls smacking against your skin.

“fuck baby… you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” he growls, his tone low and raspy with his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to pull you closer with each thrust, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

“missed this— missed you. all of you. no one else touches you like this, yeah? all fuckin’ mine.”

ੈ♡˳

[moonstruckme]

okay so i just read your requests rules and im not sure if this falls under a no no, so im just gonna ask.

would you write about reader getting emotional after remus just being really nice to her and sticking up for her bc she has trauma from like bullying or just not nice experiences regarding people being not nice or making fun of her (maybe in the adult sense it could be coworkers. like new girl at the the office au for example)?

i know your guidelines say no bullying but specifically like asking out as a prank is what is the example is so i am unsure if this is toeing a line or not. i feel like it’s not but better to be safe then sorry. thanks lovely 🩵🩵

You’re good sweetheart! That rule only really applies when like the love interest is the one being a bully. Thanks for your request <3

cw: service work rudeness

barista!Remus x barista!reader ♡ 854 words

Your work is loud enough that everyone needs to shout a little to be heard. You’re trying not to feel personally attacked by it.

“The cookie crumble latte,” the woman standing on the other side of the counter from you enunciates, over the sounds of whirring coffee machines and the customers chatting behind her.

“Perfect.” You start punching in her order. “And what size would you like?”

“Medium.”

“Lovely, got it…” Her total comes on-screen, but something dawns on you. “Oh. I’m sorry, we’re out of the crumble topping.”

The woman’s face screws up into an expression you can’t confidently interpret. It’s either bemusement or utter disdain. “What?”

“The crumble topping we put on top of the latte,” you try to explain. “We’re out of stock.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Would you like to try it without the topping?” you try.

“No.” Definitely disdain now. Your heart begins to pitter like a rabbit’s. “I want what I ordered.”

“Yes, I’m very sorry. Is…is there anything else on the menu you’d fancy?”

“You’re really out of the crumble.” She narrows her eyes at you.

“We are, yes.”

“The cookie topping that all the lattes come with?”

You think she’s trying to make you feel stupid. Not all of your lattes even come with that, only the one she’s ordered. “Yes,” you say anyway, hoping to pacify her by agreement.

The woman cocks her hip. Behind her, a few customers in line are looking over, wondering what’s taking so long. You feel the too-familiar heat of having a crowd’s irritation centered on you.

“I find it difficult to believe that you’re all of a sudden out of the ingredient for your most popular drink,” she says slowly. “Have you gone and looked in the back?”

Stupidly, your throat is starting to tighten. You keep your eyes on the screen in front of you to avoid looking her in the eye. “No,” you say quietly.

“Well, why don’t we give that a try?”

“Excuse me.” Skin brushes softly against yours as Remus steps in next to you at the till. “Is something the matter?”

“Possibly.” Your customer smiles at him. It’s sharp-edged and doesn’t reach her eyes. “Are you out of the topping for the cookie crumble lattes?”

“We are,” he confirms without missing a beat.

“And have either of you been to the back to verify that?”

“I do inventory every morning,” Remus says evenly. “We ran out of the crumble topping yesterday. Is there something else we can help you with?”

“Well, I was really looking forward to having it—”

“Then you’re welcome to try another of our locations and see if it’s available. Next.” He waves the customer behind her forward, at the same time motioning for your coworker to come take over. “Nik, can you please…? Thanks.”

You don’t look up to see the first customer’s reaction. You’re shepherded away, through the swinging door and into the relative darkness of the back room, Remus’ arm around your shoulders.

“Hey,” he says in a low voice, head bent toward yours, “you alright?”

You nod, wiping your sweaty palms on your apron. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t know what you have to be sorry about,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, an invitation to lighten things if you want it. “You weren’t the one throwing a fit over some small thing nobody can change.”

You make a noise approximating a laugh, a soft, brief exhale through your nose.

Remus tilts his head further, trying to see your face. “Sure you’re alright?” he asks gently, his solid, nobody-is-ever-going-to-hurt-you-again arm around your shoulders. “You looked like you were maybe starting to get a bit misted up.”

You take in a breath, letting it out through your mouth. Try to alleviate the tautness around your sternum. “I’m okay,” you say. “Sorry, I’m just, I’m not very good with things like that.”

“With people being cruel to you?” He gives your shoulder a tiny rub. “I’m glad, lovely, I don’t think any of us would want to be. That’s not how anyone should talk to each other, is it?”

A small, self-pitying part of you wonders what Remus would think if he knew how often it’s happened to you. You should be good at being treated cruelly by now, really. You should be accustomed to it.

You look up finally, giving your coworker a commiserative smile.

Remus smiles back. The gentle brush of his thumb over your arm feels almost like a reward. “I know it’s our job to put up with a certain amount of shit,” he says, “but if anyone talks to you like that, you can always come let me know, yeah? I’ll handle it.”

“Remus,” you say softly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. His hand coasts across your back as he pulls away. “I’m going to go help Nik, but you stay back here as long as you need, alright?”

“Alright,” you echo. You cross your arms over your stomach, taking another deep breath for yourself.

Remus sends you a fond look as he goes.

[robinminustherichard]

Fuck it Friday pt2

BuckTommy Reconciliation | Eddie Critical

"Eddie isn't your competition."

Tommy blinks, having just gotten grabbed and dragged in-between the 118 & 217 engines, faced with a dust-covered and almost crazed looking Evan. It's not exactly the reunion he had been trying to stop himself from hoping for.

"Uh--" he says, but isn't really sure what to say here.

"What did you say to me, when you picked me up out of that hallway? The night in the lab."

Tommy pretends to think, but he knows without having to. The words have been playing in his head since they night.

"I told you I was there, I told you I was sorry."

Evan nods, eyes wide. He's standing just a half step away from Tommy, breathing just a little labored.

"What else?"

"I said, uh, 'you did everything you could'."

Evan nods, and his gloved hand reaches out for Tommy. Tommy lets him, still confused and trying to keep up.

"Bobby made me leave. He made me leave him to die, and I don't know if I could have gotten off that floor if you didn't come for me."

"Evan--"

"No, please, I need to...I need to say this. I was devastated, and I'm still devastated. And you picked me up, you told me you were there for me. You told me that I did everything I could to save him."

"Of course I did." Tommy says, simply and without exaggeration. "Because you did."

Buck nods seriously, and his expression darkens for a moment.

"I have spent every minute since you put me in an ambulance that night trying to be there for everyone else, like Bobby wanted me to be. I've tried to be okay. And you know what my bes-" Evan's voice cracks, he purses his lips a moment in frustration and grief, "you know what my best friend said? That I was making Bobby's death all about myself. That everyone felt like they don't know how to 'handle' me."

Evan looks gutted at his own words, biting his lip but still looking right at Tommy.

"Eddie was never your competition, Tommy. He never will be. Because he's telling me that I didn't do enough to save Bobby, that I make everything into the tragedy of Evan Buckley."

Tommy feels rage well up within him, hot and volatile. He connects his back roughly with the truck behind him to ground himself and lets Evan finish.

"But you--" Evan says, voice cut down to a whisper, eyes blinking rapidly as they water, "you came and got me. Before that, you came when I called. And I have a hell of a lot to apologize for, but Tommy I have never felt anything like what I feel for you before. If you'll let me, I swear to you that every day I will show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. I will make sure you never think you have competition again."

Tommy swallows thickly, struck by the speech. Evan patiently waits for him to answer, his cheeks getting more red by the second.

"I'm gonna kick Diaz's ass," Tommy says, squeezing Buck's hand, "and I'm going to kiss the hell out of you."

A smile breaks across Evan's face, and it's beautiful in the dying sunlight around them.

"Not necessarily in that order." Tommy says, and grabs Evan by the turnouts, smashing their lips together in a kiss that's definitely going to get him another talking to if they're caught. He tries to keep it brief enough to avoid that, but Evan makes a disappointed sound that stops him from pulling away completely.

"I love you too," Tommy mumbles against his lips, "of course I do. How could I not?"

Their moment is soundly popped then by Gerrard yelling out "Buckley!", and Tommy sighs before reaching out to straighten Evan's turnouts and get a good look at him. They can't help but smile at each other.

"So," Evan tells him, head tilting and mouth smirking in the way he knows always got exactly what he wanted from Tommy, "what are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy scoffs theatrically but it doesn't get rid of the smile on his face.

"That's my line, Buckley."

[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | the pilot ( photo 01 )

chapter summary : you finally sign up for the stupid photography gig to take pictures for the yellow jackets girls’ soccer team, if taking action shots at their first practice was already awkward enough, being forced to introduce yourself to the team was worse.

warnings : bullying, topics of loneliness, drug use, homophobia, mental health issues, addiction

You curse at yourself as you practically sign away your life in Mr. Martinez’s office.

You can’t believe your parents convinced you to do something with your hobby you aren’t even that good at, Photography. You enjoy your free will with your shots, but now that you have to take action shots and team photos for the Yellow Jackets girl’s soccer team, you can kiss that creative freedom goodbye. You place the pen you were given down onto the desk, not caring to read the contract you just signed. Probably not the smartest decision you’ve made. The man in front of you smiles at you, before taking the clipboard and pen away from you.

“We appreciate your help, miss. We’ve been in need of a photographer.”

He chuckles, tapping the pen onto the wood. You can only muster up a small smile, awkwardly shuffling between your feet. Little did he know you were doing this completely against your will. Your eyes wander towards the family photos littered across his office, Travis and Javi Martinez. Pretty weird kids, if you could even judge. Travis was a complete asshole, but Javi was a sweet little kid. You mentally prepare yourself, knowing you’ll have to deal with them both somewhere down the line.

“No need to thank me, sir. I just wanted to expand on my hobby.”

You realize you didn’t reply to him earlier, you try to sound professional. You kick the carpet on the floor as he laughs again. He always seems so serious on the field, why is he so carefree now? Probably because he wants to love bomb you into staying for the rest of senior year, you still can’t believe you’re wasting your supposedly chill year on a soccer team. You haven’t done an extracurricular for your entire high school career, why does that have to change this year? You enjoy your alone time, at least you think you do.

“It’s Coach to you now. The girls have practice tomorrow, why don’t you stay after and test the waters?”

Coach Martinez smiles, and you press your lips together. Tomorrow is when you officially start taking pictures for the school paper, that everyone looked at.. You pick up your bag from the chair beside you and bottle up your worries. You mutter a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leave the room. You shuffle awkwardly across the locker room which was thankfully empty for today, you’re already dreading tomorrow.

It’s the last class of the day, and you’ve about had it with the constant comments from Randy. You bury your face into your hands after the third remark about how you dress, you’d yell at him if you weren’t already worrying about the event after this class. All you want is a moment to think before you have to take pictures of girls like a creep, it’s enough that people throw insults at you for being ‘gay’. You never want to confirm or deny.

“I mean, you dress like a butch—“

“Randy, just fuck off already.”

Your head turns in the direction of the new voice, it’s Taissa Turner. You’re shocked, to say the least. She’s never once stood up for you when Randy picked on you, you’re not sure what sparked this change suddenly. To be honest, you believed she was even meaner than Randy. The boy scoffs and leaves you alone, you stare at her dumbfounded. She looks back at you, equally confused.

“You’re welcome?”

Taissa speaks up, a smile pulling on her lips. You snap out of your confused daze and give her one back, going back to the worksheet on your desk. Today is going to be so weird. You grip your camera that’s been in your lap the whole class. Instead of paying attention to calculus, you were busy making sure you had enough film, that your lens wasn’t smudged, and that it still functioned correctly. All the boxes have been checked, it was time to prepare yourself for after school. To brave the overwhelming social anxiety that plagues your body every day. You squeeze your eyes shut once the bell rings, and the thing you’ve been trying to forget about for the whole day is finally here.

The tips of your shoes dig into the ground as you stand next to Coach Martinez, who is watching Coach Scott make some kind of welcome speech. You notice some girls aren’t taking it very seriously, you assume it’s because it’s not their first year. Among the girls whispering to each other, one catches your eye the most. The prettiest bleach blonde hair, eyeliner so dark around her eyes, red-tinted lips with the cutest smile. You tear your eyes away from her once you dive too deep into your thoughts. You put your camera up to your eye and wink, taking a picture of the group sitting around the Coach. It was an aesthetic shot, you know you did well when Coach Martinez praises you for your good eye.

Some of the girls look over to the sound of your camera shutter, exchanging confused looks. You slowly start to understand that this idea wasn’t disclosed to the team, at least not yet. Your nerves get the best of you, your fight-or-flight response screaming at you to just bolt away. You don’t, instead braving the odd stares you’re getting, you notice Taissa Turner is among them. You curse yourself under your breath. The bleach blonde’s eyes linger on you the longest, her tongue pressing on her cheek while she looks you up and down. You quickly avert your eyes back to the man making the speech, a pink color kissing your cheeks.

You’re not sure if she meant to stare at you that long, but it’s on your mind for the whole practice, while you’re taking pictures, your camera pans to her. Your eyes linger on her longer than the other girls, who knew one look could completely make you crumble? You take a deep breath and finally focus on getting shots of the other girls on the team, not just that blonde beauty. You kiss your new roll of film goodbye with all the pictures you've taken; you finally put your camera down. You feel satisfied with your first photoshoot; you absolutely were not counting, but you had enough photos so the team could pick which ones they liked and disliked. Coach Scott snaps you out of your daze. He taps your shoulder and motions you to come with him. You bite the inside of your cheek, trailing behind him nervously. You finally notice you're heading towards the circle of girls, and your stomach sinks down into the pits of your body.

You stand in front of the team who surrounds you in a semi-circle, you gulp as your head turns around to see all of their eyes trained on you. Your ripped Converse dug into the turf under you anxiously, and your fingers wrap around the cloth of your sweater. Your head turns to Coach Scott expectantly, and he stares at you for a moment before sighing.

"So, as you might not know. This year, a photographer will be at our practices taking pictures for the school paper."

Introductions have never been your strong suit. In fact, it might be the thing you're worst at. You take a deep breath, thinking about what you could possibly say. You don't want to overcomplicate it either, you finally speak, your name being the first thing to come out of your mouth.

"—and I am a.. senior this year. yep. Um, and I'll be taking pictures of you guys, I guess."

You internally face-palm once you finish. Hearing the girls giggle around you softly is the thing that pushes you to your breaking point. You shift onto both your feet before flashing everyone a smile and then running away. As you're grabbing your bag, you hear one of the coaches calling out for you. You're too embarrassed to turn back now.

You lie on your back, the cold of the hood on your car stinging your exposed skin. You can only think about how badly you fucked up back at the soccer field as you take a drag of your cigarette. The awkwardness surrounding your introduction, you couldn't even prepare yourself for. You picture their eyes practically staring into your soul. What else were you supposed to say? That your life sucks, and that you don't even want to do this stupid photography thing? Of course not!

"Hey."

You gasp and hide your cigarette, stupidly coughing out smoke and waving it away frantically. Your eyes rest on the source of the voice, that gorgeous fake blonde. She laughs as you look around the area, wondering if she was actually speaking to you or not. You feel like you’re in some cheesy romantic 80s’ movie, something you haven’t felt in a while. You scoot over so she can sit next to you.

“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”

She smirks, her eyes not leaving yours. You let out a nervous giggle and lift up the cigarette from behind your legs, there’s no point in hiding it anyway. You hope that your problem won’t drive her away, you only do it when you’re stressed.. which is almost everyday. You take another puff, offering it to her. You aren’t surprised when she takes up your offer, taking a long drag.

“A lot of people say that.”

An over exaggeration, only about two people have said that to your face, including the girl beside you. She hands your cigarette back to you, blowing out the smoke that previously filled her mouth. She seems like she’s thinking carefully, that only makes you even more antsy. It’s obvious, from the way you’re bouncing your leg, looking at everything but her, like it’s the first time you’ve seen the shitty school parking lot. She nudges you with a smile, making you put your attention back on her.

“My name is Nat.“

She starts, a faint accent coating her voice. You’re practically drinking in every word that falls out of her pretty mouth, addicted to the sound. You hum in response, putting the cigarette back up to your lips. Another thing you’re horrible at, continuing conversation. You’re shocked that she hasn’t gotten frustrated and left you alone at your car yet, like everyone else you’ve tried getting to know. She stays, the short amount of silence not being awkward, but nice.

“Uh— Ignore the assholes that laughed at you, most of them are nice when they want to be.”

You’re reminded of the events that took place recently, smoke blowing out of your lips. You don’t blame them for laughing, your bones were practically rattling from how much you were shaking. You shrug, you don’t want to think about it too much. You always overthink anyway, you don’t want to waste anymore of your time.

“It’s fine, I’m only going to be taking photos of you guys anyways, I don’t know why he had me introduce myself.”

You reply, looking at Nat. It’s a cute name, you assume it’s short for Natalie. She smiles again once you make eye contact with her brown eyes, you can drown in the sight. You shrink under her gaze, so understanding. You wonder if she’s in the same boat as you. She didn’t dress like other girls in the school, her eyeliner harsher than others. You still think she’s so much cooler than you.

“Maybe it’s so we don’t think you’re a fucking creep.”

That sentence causes you both to break into laughter, you wave the smoke away from your face as you cough it out. Her laugh is heavy, it’s such a nice sound. You realize you’re already down bad for this girl, how willing she was to cuss, the dimples that show up on her face every time she smiles, and the tone she uses when speaking with you. It’s enchanting. Your artistic eye takes in all of her features, desperate to learn more about her.

You both snap out of your trance as you hear a girl call out Nat’s name, your eyes landing on a tall woman with curly brunette hair that falls past her shoulders, you recognize her as Lottie Matthews. The known rich girl of the school, she’s not as stuck up as her reputation makes her. Your attention goes to Nat as she groans, disappointment evident on her face. She picks up her bag and faces you with a smile.

“That’s my ride, I’ll see you at our next practice?”

You agree a bit too quickly, causing her to snort. She leaves your car and head over to Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights. You take a drag out of your cigarette again, wanting to finish it before you start driving home. As the quiet settles in, you feel sad again. You didn’t even get Nat’s number, not that you’d be confident enough to ask her for it. You sigh, feeling that same emptiness takes place in your body. You want more of her, her laugh, her words. You’re desperate to learn more about her other than her name. Your bones ache with need, and your mind is heavy with curiosity.

It all started with one look.

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : AHH OKAY HII FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE FIRST PART.. I hope you guys like it so far, i’ve had this idea ever since i finished season one UGHHHHH

a/n : taglist is still open! lmk if you want to be added onto it 🤍

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop

[chrollohearttags]

˙ .🍰 . 𖦹˙—late night cravings • the excerpt ˙ 🍰

a little drabble/preview of this doordasher!eren fic I’m working on bc it’s far too long right now and idk when I’ll finish it 😭

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

linking up with doordasher!eren always resorted in one or two outcomes for (y/n)…after waiting nearly an hour for the food you’d purchased and communicating with him, he’d arrive with a bag full of cold food and a snide remark to accompany it. You’d often find yourself shouting, cursing and yelling at him for his stupidity. He’d simply apologize and enact that annoying charm you’d fallen for…even so, he didn’t get a pass and you’d kick him out, promptly shutting the door in his face so that you could somewhat enjoy your subpar meal in peace. You often questioned why you even bothered getting infuriated with him. Hell, there wasn’t any use in it. It wasn’t as if he’d feel any remorse for that lackadaisical attitude of his. And it wasn’t as if you’d genuinely be upset with him either! Hence why he continued to do so. Then there were the other times….

“Oh God…”

“Just breathe, baby..I got you..here, grab my hair and pull me in closer.”

the times that resulted in the two of you congregating in the back hatch of his Trackhawk. A completely different car from the one he’d normally drive. Your legs spread wide and stretched to each side as he resided between them..buried face deep into that soaking cunt. That very white tank top and biker shorts you’d answer the door in, were now shuffled around your ribcage and your ankles, courtesy of him undressing you in a haze. A towel resided underneath your asscheeks because Eren was painfully aware that you had the tendency to make a mess. A fact he’d learn all too well the first time you’d hooked up and hell, he welcomed the idea! So he’d make sure to come prepared. With plenty of water and snacks once the two of you were finished to help replenish your energy and of course, all the love he could provide. He’d do whatever it took to make his beloved (y/n) comfortable.

“There we go. Now you can’t run from me..” Lobbing a trail of spit onto your folds before continuing to feast greedily on your dripping heat. After another grueling shift and midterms, Eren decided to scoop you up for a ride around town to help you clear your head. It was the start of a much needed and deserved vacation. Two weeks off from sitting behind a computer screen and being yelled at by dumbass customers. Or listening to boring lectures. You were reclaiming your time back and what better way to start it off than by letting your ‘sworn enemy’ eat your pussy in the back of his car?! You two were in a remote area on the other side of town…away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Near the beachfront without a single house or person in sight. It was ideal for a little venture like this.

“Erennnn..fuck..”

“Mmmm…I know…I know it feels good. Just keep riding my tongue, imma get you there.”

it was a promise you knew he’d fulfill, even if it took all night. He was aware that you hadn’t had a proper orgasm in a while and you needed to release that tension..even if it manifested in the form of cream trailing down his chin! So Eren dutifully sat on his knees; planted in the grass with his pants shifted to his waist as he stroked his cock to the sounds of your moans. Regardless of how sensual and steamy the moment was, he couldn’t help but to partake in his usual jokes!..

“This pussy tastes so fucking good, baby…crazy ‘cause you eat like a damn raccoon.”

“Fuck you..swear you get on my damn nerves.”

laughing as your head fell back onto your shoulders and those fingers clutched those chocolate locks even harder. You’d even find yourself gasping for air as that impending climax drew near..with one hand still pleasuring himself, the other plunged two digits into your tight hole and fingered you. Whilst those lips remained suctioned around that swollen clit.

“Aww, but you’re still gon’ come for me, right?” Knowing that you were directly in his clutches and he wasn’t going to let go until you gave his trunk area a good rinse down! Watching you writhe around and unravel as you squirted all over the place was worth any sharp insults or remarks. He just needed to see you fall apart so he could be one with you next..so without haste, he’d quicken those movements and rapidly flick his tongue across that aching bud, pleading with you to release at any moment. To which you didn’t disappoint. Forcing him to withdraw his fingers, (y/n) would generously release those warm, sticky juices in a stream all over his face, chest, the back carpet and down to the hitch. Even catching your own feet in the process! Left quivering and frozen in ecstasy, a trail of tears as a result of that climax, fell down your cheek as you struggled to capture your breath and construct a single word or thought.

“FUCK! Oh my—gosh!..” finally blurting out in a fit of pleasure and laughter. “I don’t remember the last time I came so hard. What the fuck is wrong with you?” To which he could do nothing more than continue to cackle, knowing that he may have gone a bit overboard just to achieve his goal.

“Sorry, baby. You know I can’t help myself..love watching you squirt.. ‘s just so sexy. That’s why I’m about to make you do it until you pass out.”

Which earned him quite the shocked glare because you weren’t even finished riding this one out and he was ready to make you come again?! This man was insane.

“Listen, I don’t want you thinking about anything except feeling good when you’re with me. Not school, work..coworkers, nothing.”

In the midst of his spiel, Eren had risen to his feet and was now gripping your thighs; holding them to either side as that long, thick cock rubbed against those sensitive, slippery folds. Lathered up with sticky liquid and remnants of his precum dripping from that aching tip, he’d slowly but surely ease himself inside and allow his head to fall back onto his shoulder after releasing a breathy ‘shit’..

“Just take this dick, beautiful..that’s your only fucking job right now. You don’t have to do anything else except be my lil’ slut.” In a split moment alone, his energy had shifted from playful to somewhat dominant. Clutching your throat just lightly enough to garner your attention and keep those eyes on him. “You can do that, right?” Once you nodded your head, he’d shove a thumb between your lips to suckle on and pacify your loud moans.

“Haaa—damn, baby. Squeezing me so tight already. Why do you have to feel so fuckin’ good?.” Although reluctant to admit it, he was making you feel far too good right now. Pleasure like you’ve never experienced and craving more as the moments passed! “This pussy ‘s so creamy..fuuuck. I love it..” Eren, despite his nonsensical nature, was the ideal lover..always placing your needs before his own, constantly doting and checking on you, even giving you a slight bit of aggression and dominance because he knew you liked the idea of someone else having control every once in a while. Hell, he’d even resort to tricks that other partners hadn’t in the past.

“Nnnngh..Ren, baby..what are you—“

“Oooh, look at you, (y/n). Who would’ve thought you liked getting your toes sucked on..somebody’s a lil’ freak.”

Although you were enjoying the sensation, you couldn’t help but to take a jab at him regardless.

“Or maybe you just like weird shit.” Giggling at his statement as he cupped your feet in his palms. Cleaning off the remnants of your earlier ’shower’. “You should know by now..I'm not with that lil’ kid shit. I’ll do whatever to make you feel good..”

Never in your life had you experienced love making or sex in general the way you had with Eren. Delicately, he’d bring your feet to his shoulder blades and glide his tongue around them whilst staring deep into your eyes. He had a chokehold on you, mentally and physically. One that could not be so easily broken. “Damn..I really can’t get rid of you now.” Meanwhile, he’d continue slowly pounding you with those deep strokes. You’d feel yourself crowning and then tightening around the base of his shaft. With it came silky cream being dredged from your body.

“This dick is so fucking big…stretching my pussy..”

“I love when you talk like that..but it’s okay, you can handle it, beautiful. You can take it for me.”

he’d continue to nurse your feet, placing gentle kisses along the insoles before eventually speeding up. He’d shift his weight so that your legs were pinned back entirely and those hands were cuffed around your ankles. He’d burrow his weight onto your body and feed you deeper, heavier strokes. Your eyes remained plastered on him before eventually rolling back. Sounds of loud smacking, moaning and gasping filled the quiet night air.

“Yes! Keep fucking me, right there! Gonna make me come again!..”

“Yeah? Gonna nut all over this fucking dick? Then do it..I told you not to hold back. Let it out.”

demanding in a haze as you furiously rubbed your clit to aid his rapid strokes. You felt as if you were going to explode any minute and he wasn’t too far behind. Truth be told, this was a new experience for the both of you and never in a million years would you have expected the man who delivered your food..to be digging you out in a public area. But that was the type of excitement that Eren had brought into your life and you wouldn’t change it for a thing. Suddenly, he’d look up from feeding you those deep strokes, to watching your eyes go cross before your head would dangle back on your shoulders and a loud yelp followed. Continuing to rub that clit, (y/n) let out another release that satisfied both of your carnal desires. Those juices were sent flying and his abdomen took the brunt of it. Seeming as how he couldn’t be bothered to pull out as he slowly fucked the remainder of that orgasm out of you.

“There you go. Make a fucking mess for me, baby. Make a mess on your dick..this belongs to you.” Something about hearing him let you claim dominion over his body made it even harder to want this moment to cease. By the tears falling down your cheek, he was certain you’d never experienced anything like this. Before proceeding, he’d place a hand around the back of your neck and his lips to your own..shoving that tongue in your mouth.

“I’m so proud of you, baby..and thank you for trusting me..I told you I’d make all that stress go away..”

and luckily, this was just a mere taste of what was in store!

@thatbitchatesblog @tieraaaxo @koreancoochies @large-juice

[bluejelly8]

I first tried to come out as asexual when I was 13. At 13 I knew that I had no interest in sex the way a lot of my peers seemed to be at that age. I believed, at the time, that I was pan-romantic and I felt really good about those labels. They felt right. My parents' immediate response was laughter. "What? Are you a plant?" Was the first and only thing she said on the topic of my sexuality. Ever since, she has boasted being supportive and not caring about other people's sexuality whilst ridiculing her own daughter's to her face.

When I was in 14, my color guard group was going around the circle, introducing ourselves and a few girls shared their pronouns/sexuality. I felt safe. I felt welcome. I told them I identified as panromantic asexual. The looks they gave me. The abject horror on their faces. I explained what that meant, that i was romantically attracted to all genders, but sexually attracted to none. Their faces didn't change. We moved on.

When I was 16 I started telling friends I was bisexual. Not because I strongly felt like I was, but because it was more palatable, more understandable than asexuality of any kind. I avoided queer spaces. I still do. I own 1 enamel pin of the aroace flag disguised enough to be passed off as something inoculous. I own a jellyfish plushie in the asexual flag colors, a gift from an old friend.

When I was 19/20 my best friend introduced me to the idea of aromanticism. Away from my hometown, with the help and support of one incredible friend, I began to reidentify as asexual. Because I was never bisexual. With the support of that same friend, I was introduced to the concept of aromanticism, and something just clicked. It was an option I had never considered before. And it made sense, it explained so much. Not everything, but a lot. Im 22, almost 23 now, and I'm still figuring out where I stand on sex and that's okay!!

I became sort of friends with a new coworker when I was 21. We broached the topic of queerness to me, and I felt comfortable enough to share my sexuality with him. It's not something I am shy about discussing with people, close friends, or not(more often than not, it saves me the hassle of being asked out). He asked me if I was just 'intellectualizing my feelings towards other people'. I told him I no, and I never discussed my sexuality with him again.

Within this last year, another coworker asked me out. I apologized(a mistake) and explained that I was aroace(in laymans terms) and that I thought he was a great guy, but I just don't work like that. We barely spoke for a year. It was awkward, but he was my friends older brother, and I thought we could be friends. He took the rejection well and never brought it up again. As soon as I felt comfortable enough around him to talk to him outside of work, he slapped me in the face with bigotry. Chappel Roan was playing on the speaker and my friend(his sister, a proud lesbian), and I intended to keep that going while we worked, and he complained about her music. That's fine, its not for everyone, but he kept whining about it. So, I asked him what was wrong with it. What about it did he not like? I was curious. He said "Well, I'm not a lesbian, so I dont get it."

I replied with "Okay...? I'm not either."

And he looked at me. He looked me dead in the face with suspicion. As though he didn't believe me when I said that. I reiterated that I was not and am not a lesbian.

"But you would be. If you weren't what you are, you would be."

He walked away before I could proccess what the fuck that meant. I was an anxious mess for the rest of my shift. I called my friend in tears on my way home. I panicked about working with him the next week(at the time we were the only 2 people working in the basement of where I work), I didn't feel safe around him anymore. I had to go to my boss and explain the situation in full because(after his sister grilled him on how fucked up of a thing that was to say to someone is and how she warned him that something like this would happen) all he had said was 'I understand if Jelly doesnt want to work with me anymore and I have to move upstairs'.

The conversation went well, but I was a shaking, sobbing mess, and I could barely string together two sentences. I had written down everything I wanted to say for my boss to read in case I physically couldn't explain it. And my boss was great about it. I didn't work with him for a year and I am never scheduled alone with him. We barely speak beyond work related topics.

The point of all this rambling and explanation is that aphobia and every type of bigotry occurs in big and small ways every day. It happens from within and without the queer community in equal measure. Asexuality might be invisible to a lot of people, but so is aphobia. Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not happening. Just because we 'arent hurting anyone' doesn't mean people aren't hurting us. Sorry if this is an unwelcome addition, OP.

tbh I really dislike how aphobia tends to be discussed whenever there's some kind of incident that makes it visible to general society. The most common response seems to be some variation of "why would anyone hate asexual/aromantic people, they aren't even doing anything" and it just always sits wrong with me. It paints such a passive picture of our existence and feels like a comment influenced by the level of invisibility that aspec people have in society. Why would you be annoyed by someone who is practically invisible? Just go back to ignoring their existence, it's easy!

But despite the invisibility, aspec people are actually doing quite a lot of things that will piss off queerphobic, right-wing and religious people (and hell, even left-wing people). And the most obvious point is that we are actively not performing heterosexuality the way they want us to. People who's entire world view is "cis men and women should be in monogamous, heterosexual marriage and have (white) babies" are not going to lean back and say "oh but those asexuals and aromantics are fine". They will also hate our guts, and they will come up with all sorts of reasons, including insinuating we're all secretly into bestiality, or mentally ill, or not human, or attention seeking children. It's just plain old queerphobia, and like all queerphobia, there's no inherent logic to it which you can worm your way out of by "not doing anything".

And like, there's a lot more that aspec people do which people hate. Raising awareness about amatonormativity? People feel attacked, they hate it. Asexual people having sex? Or not having sex? People hate it! Aromantic people being in (seemingly) romantic relationships? People fucking hate it! Aromantic people having sex? Ohh people hate that!!

I guess the existence of aphobia can be confusing when you haven't spent much time thinking about asexuality and aromanticism, but in the end, these are identities that aren't heteronormative and they will be hit with the same or similar bigotry as any other queer identity. I just get tired of this response after seeing it recycled for 10 years without ever seeming to go any further.

[inseobts]

HAII, I heard your request is now open again and I wanted to request this!

wherein the reader has feelings for (any character you want!) and they friend zone her, and she gets the hanahaki disease!😁 they don't tell anyone until they're almost at the brink of death. well, you can choose if the reader lives or not but the character you choose will happen to realize they do have feelings for the reader and they were only confused at the beginning!

it's kinda like angst sorry😅 But I really want to see something like this from you, since you are an excellent writer! ty smmm

Petals in Silence

zoro x fem!reader

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

a/n: wrote about this for one of my old kpop fanfics so I got really exciting to write this again for a different media

words count: 4.0k

tags: illness, angst and fluff, chopper and law being good doctors, unrequited love, slow burn, emotional hurt

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The first time you cough up a petal, it’s early morning.

You’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom when something tickles your throat. You cough once, then harder.

A soft, white petal drops into the sink.

You blink. Stare. It’s delicate. Real.

“What the hell…?”

You look up at the mirror. Your reflection stares back, pale and confused.

You cough again.

Another petal.

“No. No, no, no.”

You quickly wash the sink, flush the petals, and press a trembling hand to your mouth. You’re breathing fast now.

“What is this?” you whisper.

You sneak into the library on the ship when no one’s around. Robin might be there later, but right now it’s quiet.

You pull out an old medical book. Then another.

Finally, you find it.

Hanahaki Disease: A rare, fatal illness caused by unrequited love. The infected cough up flower petals as feelings deepen. The only cures are returned love… or surgery that erases all memory of the beloved person.

You reread it five times.

Then you sit back, stunned.

“No way...” you say out loud “That’s not real.”

But the pain in your chest disagrees.

You press your hand over your heart. It feels like something is blooming. Slowly. Cruelly.

You whisper the name you’ve been hiding in your heart for so long “…Zoro.”

You try to act normal during dinner. You sit beside Luffy and across from Zoro. You talk with Nami, laugh with Usopp. But you keep sneaking glances at him.

Zoro’s sipping sake, listening to Sanji rant about proper cooking technique. He doesn’t even look your way.

That tiny ache in your chest grows just a bit stronger.

You excuse yourself early and go to bed.

Later that night, Zoro finds you on the deck. You’re alone, staring at the sea. You don’t notice him until he speaks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You flinch a little “Oh yeah. Just thinking.”

He steps beside you. Arms crossed “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m fine” you say quickly.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine,” he says, tone flat “I said you’ve been quiet.”

You don’t answer. You look away, afraid you’ll start coughing again.

“Anyway,” he says after a moment, “don’t push yourself too hard. You get weird when you're tired.”

You smile, small and sad “Thanks, Zoro.”

He nods and walks away, like nothing’s wrong. Like your heart isn’t trying to kill you.

You start avoiding him.

Not in a big, obvious way. Just enough to keep the pain small. Manageable.

You leave the room when he enters. You sit farther away at meals. You laugh at his jokes less. You pretend you’re busy when he trains, even though you used to watch him every day.

Still, he notices.

“You mad at me or something?” Zoro asks one afternoon.

You blink “What? No.”

He raises an eyebrow “You’ve been weird. Distant.”

You shrug “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He watches you, arms crossed “You’ve said that a lot lately.”

You force a smile “Guess I’m always tired.”

You walk away before you start coughing again.

Later that night, you’re alone again on the deck. Same spot. Same stars. Same sea.

Your chest feels heavy tonight. Your throat burns.

You cough hard. Petals. So many.

They spill from your mouth, red and white, soft and cruel.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stop the sound, trying not to cry.

This is getting worse.

You fall to your knees.

It’s too late to stop it now.

The next morning, you can’t take it anymore.

You find Chopper in the infirmary. You pull him aside, whispering.

“Can I ask you something… privately?”

He looks up at you, curious “Of course. What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard “Do you know anything about… Hanahaki disease?”

His eyes widen.

“What?” he says “Why? Who—who has it?”

You don’t answer. Just pull a crumpled petal from your pocket and place it in his hand.

His face falls.

“Oh no… Y/N...” he whispers.

You don’t speak.

He looks at you with tears in his eyes “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

You give him the weakest smile “I didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not him.”

Zoro finds you the next day.

“You’ve been ignoring me” he says bluntly.

You sigh “I haven’t.”

“You have. What’s going on?”

You look at him. Really look at him.

Strong. Focused. Brave. And not yours.

You take a deep breath.

“Zoro,” you say softly, “do you see me as… anything more than a friend?”

He frowns “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer.”

He looks confused for a second, then says, “You’re a great friend. You know that.”

Your heart cracks right there “I see.”

He tilts his head “Why?”

You shake your head and step back “No reason.”

“Wait—”

“I have to go” you whisper, already walking away.

You cough again as you turn the corner. This time, petals fall from your hands like snow.

You visit Chopper again the next day. This time, you don’t bother hiding the blood on your sleeve.

He panics the moment he sees you.

“Y/N, sit down, right now.”

You do.

He shines a light in your throat, listens to your breathing, checks your heartbeat. His hooves are trembling.

“Your lungs…” he says quietly “the flowers are growing faster.”

“I know.”

“You’re in the second stage. If this keeps up—”

“I know, Chopper.”

Silence.

You break it first.

“Is there any way to slow it down?” you ask, voice thin “Just a little?”

Chopper hesitates “I can give you medicine to ease the pain. But it won’t stop the petals.”

You nod. That’s enough. For now.

He wraps your wrist where you’d scratched it raw from coughing.

“You need to tell the others” he says softly.

“I can’t.”

“Y/N—”

“No.”

He looks at you, torn between doctor and friend. But he nods.

For now, he’ll keep your secret.

At lunch, you barely touch your food. Sanji notices right away.

“You feelin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asks, kneeling beside your chair with a plate in hand.

You blink “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Nami says across the table “You look like a ghost.”

Usopp leans in “Have you been throwing up or something?”

Your grip tightens on your fork “Just tired.”

“You keep saying that,” Luffy mumbles with food in his mouth “You said that yesterday, and the day before that, and the—”

“I said I’m fine!” you snap.

Silence falls.

You don’t look at anyone. You stand quickly, chair scraping back.

“I’m sorry. I just... I need some air.”

You rush out before they see your hand fly to your mouth.

You cough behind a crate on the lower deck. Violet petals. Tiny thorns. Blood.

You shake as they fall into your palm.

Someone walks by above you, and you press your mouth shut until your lungs burn. You can’t let them hear.

You slide down to the floor, heart pounding.

You can’t keep this up much longer.

That night, Zoro knocks on your door.

You don’t answer.

He opens it anyway “Hey. We need to talk.”

You sit on your bed, facing the wall.

He walks in slowly “You’ve been avoiding everyone. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t move “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not gonna work anymore,” he says “Your voice is weak. You’re pale. And you’re breathing weird.”

You say nothing.

Zoro narrows his eyes “Did someone hurt you?”

That makes you laugh. It’s a broken sound “No. Not someone.”

He waits.

You finally turn toward him, eyes glassy “I think I’m sick, Zoro.”

He steps closer “Sick how?”

You look down at your hands. But you don’t answer.

Not yet.

He understands and leaves you alone.

It’s been weeks.

You’re coughing more now. Petals come in waves, in your sleep, in the middle of meals, behind closed doors. You can barely hide it anymore. Chopper’s running out of ways to explain your pale skin and shaking hands.

Then one afternoon, Law steps onto the Sunny.

The crew cheers, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen the Heart Pirates. But you don’t move from the railing. Your body feels too heavy.

Zoro notices.

So does Chopper.

Later, Chopper finds you in the infirmary, Law just behind him.

He stares at you for a long moment, then sighs “Chopper told me everything. Including the petals.”

Your breath catches.

Chopper looks hopeful, desperate even “He thinks he can do the surgery. It’s risky, but it might work.”

You go cold “The memory one?”

Law nods “I can remove the infection. The petals. You’ll survive. But you’ll forget everything tied to the person who caused it.”

You don’t even have to think.

“No.”

Chopper gasps “What? Y/N, you’re dying.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper “I don’t want to forget him.”

Law watches you carefully “You’d rather die than let go?”

You nod.

There’s a pause. Then Law gestures for Chopper to leave the room.

He does, slowly.

Now it’s just you and Law.

“I don’t do emotional attachments” he says, leaning against the wall “But even I know this is stupid.”

You laugh bitterly “Yeah. It is.”

He folds his arms “You sure he doesn’t feel anything for you?”

“He made it clear,” you say, staring at the floor “He sees me as a friend. That’s all.”

Law raises an eyebrow “You asked him?”

“Of course, I'm dying... I asked if he could ever see me as more. He said I’m a great friend. That’s it.”

He doesn’t reply for a moment. Then quietly, he says, “You should tell him about the disease.”

You look up sharply “No. That’s the one thing I won’t do.”

“Why?”

Your voice cracks “Because I don’t want to be loved out of pity. I want it to be real. Not because I’m dying.”

Behind the cracked door, someone stands frozen.

Zoro.

He hadn’t meant to listen. He was just walking by.

He wasn’t trying to find you. Not on purpose.

But now your words are echoing in his head, and they won’t stop.

“I don’t want to forget him.”

“I want it to be real.”

He feels like something is unraveling in his chest.

Suddenly, memories flood in. You watching him train. Laughing at his jokes. Smiling when you thought he wasn’t looking. Bleeding silently.

And him, brushing you off. Pushing the feelings down. Because love was a weakness. A distraction. Something he couldn’t afford.

But now you're dying, and it’s his fault you’re alone.

He presses his hand to the wall beside the door.

“Idiot” he whispers.

He doesn’t even know if he means you or himself.

Zoro doesn’t sleep that night.

He leans against the railing of the upper deck, sword resting by his side, your words stuck in his mind like a thorn he can’t pull out.

“I want it to be real.”

“I don’t want to forget him.”

He tightens his grip on the hilt.

He doesn’t understand everything about emotions... hell, he usually avoids them altogether but he’s not dumb.

He heard enough to know what this is.

Enough to know you’ve been dying quietly, and everyone’s been hiding it from him.

The next morning, he finds Chopper in the kitchen, alone, fiddling with a pile of vitamins and bandages.

Zoro crosses his arms and speaks flatly “What’s wrong with her?”

Chopper freezes “W-Who?”

Zoro just stares.

Chopper sweats “You mean…uh…Nami? I think she had a cold last week—”

“Y/N” Zoro says, voice sharp “Don’t play dumb.”

Chopper drops the spoon in his hoof “Oh.”

Zoro leans in, towering over the small reindeer “I heard Law talking to her. I heard enough. Now tell me everything.”

Chopper swallows “I-I promised not to—”

“Chopper.”

“I—I mean—she’s—”

He folds immediately “Okay! Okay! It’s Hanahaki!”

Zoro stiffens “Hanahaki…?”

“She’s been coughing up petals for weeks. She’s in stage two, probably. Her lungs are already getting worse. If she doesn’t get surgery, she’ll—” Chopper gulps before continuing “She’ll die.”

Zoro goes completely still.

“And it’s because of—” Chopper shuts his mouth with both hooves.

“Because of what, Chopper?”

“I—I can’t say that part—”

Zoro crouches down, voice low “Is it because of me?”

Chopper's eyes fill with panic.

“That’s a yes.”

“Zoro...”

He stands up suddenly, knocking over a chair. His jaw clenches.

Chopper reaches out “Please don’t get mad at her! She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want to make you feel bad—”

Zoro turns away, fists clenched “She’s dying and she’s worried about me?”

“She loves you,” Chopper says quietly “But she’d rather die than force you to love her back.”

Zoro doesn’t answer.

He just stands there, breathing hard and then he walks out.

Fast.

Not toward you.

Not yet.

He needs to get his head straight because for the first time in a long time, Zoro is afraid.

Not of losing a fight.

But of losing you.

You’re sitting alone in the small reading room on the Sunny, legs tucked up beneath you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. A book is open on your lap, unread. The words blur. Your head throbs.

You’ve been coughing all morning. You can taste iron in the back of your throat.

You hear the door open and close behind you.

You don’t look up “Chopper, I already took the medicine—”

“It’s not Chopper.”

Your breath catches.

You look up.

Zoro.

Standing there, arms crossed. Shadows under his eyes. A strange look on his face — like something sharp and unfinished.

You blink slowly “What do you want?”

He walks forward. No swords. No usual swagger. Just…Zoro.

“I know” he says.

Your stomach drops.

“I know everything. Hanahaki. The petals. That it’s because of me.”

You go still.

“I didn’t want you to find out,” you say quietly “Not like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want your pity.”

He sits across from you. His eyes are unreadable.

“You didn’t want to tell me... but you told Law?”

You wince “Chopper dragged him in. Said he could save me.”

Zoro stares at you for a moment. Then “You turned down the surgery.”

“Yes.”

“Because you didn’t want to forget.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

You speak first “I asked you once if you saw me as anything more than a friend. You said no.”

“I said you’re a great friend,” Zoro says “But I didn’t say no.”

You freeze “That’s not what it felt like.”

He leans forward “I didn’t answer you honestly. I didn’t want to answer.”

You whisper “Why?”

His voice is low “Because I was scared it would mess everything up. You’re... you’ve always been close. If I let myself feel something else, I thought it would get in the way.”

“Of your goal,” you say “Becoming the world’s strongest swordman.”

He nods once “I told myself there was no room for anything else.”

Your hands are shaking in your lap.

“And now?” you whisper.

Zoro hesitates. For the first time in forever, he looks unsure.

“I don’t know,” he says “But when I heard what you said to Law… that you’d rather die than forget me… I realized I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“I don’t know if I deserve this,” he says “But I want to try. If you’ll let me. I should’ve said it before you ever started coughing.”

Zoro’s confession echoes in the small room.

You sit there for a long moment, stunned, heart beating so fast it hurts more than your lungs.

But the pain in your chest doesn’t stop. In fact, it starts to burn.

That isn’t supposed to happen.

“I…” You swallow hard, forcing your voice to stay calm “Can I ask something?”

Zoro looks at you, still tense “Yeah.”

You grip the blanket tighter around your shoulders “Do you actually mean it? Or are you just saying that because you don’t want me to die?”

He flinches.

You nod slowly “That’s what I thought.”

Zoro opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m... glad you care. But you don’t have to pretend to love me. That would hurt more.”

His jaw tightens “I’m not pretending.”

You give him a sad smile “Zoro... if this was real, the petals would’ve stopped by now.”

You cough hard. A violent shake rips through your chest, and something wet and warm fills your palm.

You look down.

A full, red flower lies there, soaked in blood.

Your fingers tremble as you wipe it away, turning your face from him.

“See?” you whisper.

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

He just leaves.

He storms through the Sunny like a blade cutting through mist.

Straight to the infirmary.

Chopper and Law both look up from the counter.

Zoro slams his hands down “Why isn’t she better?”

Chopper blinks “Wh-What?”

“I told her. Everything. I confessed. So why is she still coughing up flowers?!”

Law stands slowly “Did she believe you?”

“What?”

Law narrows his eyes “Hanahaki is rooted in emotion, not logic. You can say whatever you want but if she doesn’t believe it in her heart, it won’t stop.”

Zoro’s throat goes dry.

“She thinks I said it out of pity...” he mutters.

Law’s voice drops “Then her body still thinks it’s unrequited.”

Zoro swears under his breath.

Chopper tugs at his sleeve, eyes big and worried “Zoro, she’s getting worse. No matter what I give her, the petals will start to grow into her lungs. They’ll wrap around her ribs. After that...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Zoro steps back.

He’s never felt so helpless.

“I’ll fix it” he says, turning toward the door.

Law raises a brow “How?”

Zoro doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know yet. But he’s sure of one thing, this time, words aren’t enough.

The sun is setting. Gold light spills over the deck of the Sunny.

You sit alone again, wrapped in your blanket, watching the sea blur into the sky. The petals are getting worse now, they come up more easily, more violently. You can feel them in your lungs even when you're not coughing.

You don’t know how much time you have left.

You don’t hear Zoro approach.

He stands beside you silently for a few seconds. Then, without a word, he sits down.

You look at him. His expression is unreadable. Focused. But his eyes are storming.

“I’m not good at this” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

He pulls something from his waist. A worn cloth. He unfolds it slowly.

Inside is a small charm. Hand-carved wood, shaped like a sword crossed with a flower.

Your breath catches.

“I made it back on Wano,” he says “Took me three days. I almost threw it out. Thought it was stupid.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just the charm.

“I didn’t know why I was making it. I told myself it was just something to pass the time. But I carried it with me every day since.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

Zoro finally turns to you.

“Because I didn’t just come here to say something this time. I’m here to prove it.”

He places the charm in your lap.

Then Zoro kneels.

Your heart skips “Zoro—what—”

“I’m not asking you to believe me because I said I care,” he says, voice rough “I’m asking you to believe me because I was a coward, and I missed my chance, and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continues “Not because I feel guilty. Not because you’re sick. Because I’ve loved you longer than I was willing to admit.”

Your eyes well with tears. You shake your head “But... Zoro... why didn’t you—”

“Because I thought I couldn’t afford it” he says “But I realized... what’s the point of becoming the world’s strongest swordsman if you’re not there to see it?”

Your lungs seize.

You cough.

A petal falls into your palm.

Just one.

Small.

Thin.

You stare at it.

Zoro sees too. And for the first time you see hope in his eyes.

It’s slow.

You still wake up coughing sometimes but not with blood anymore. Not with full blossoms tearing your throat raw.

Now, it’s just a few pale petals, thinner than paper. Some mornings, none at all.

You’re healing.

And every time you wake up, Zoro is there.

Not hovering. Just close. Training. Napping with one arm slung over a chair. But always there.

He doesn’t say much. He lets his presence do the talking.

One night, you sit outside the infirmary, wrapped in a jacket that’s obviously not yours, too big, too warm. Smells like steel, sweat, and something familiar.

Zoro’s jacket.

He comes up beside you, leaning against the wall.

You glance at him “Still watching me?”

“Still making sure you don’t keel over,” he says “It’d ruin my day.”

You laugh softly “Chopper says the petals might stop completely soon.”

He nods “Good.”

You look at him “Do you remember what you said? On the deck. About… me seeing you become the world’s strongest swordman?”

Zoro doesn’t look away “Yeah.”

“Do you still want that?”

“More than ever.”

You swallow “And… do you still mean it? What you said about loving me?”

Zoro turns to you fully.

“I’ve said a lot of things I didn’t mean in my life,” he says “But that wasn’t one of them.”

Silence.

Then you reach out, fingers brushing his hand.

“Zoro?”

He meets your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer is a quiet but firm “Yeah.”

You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away.

He doesn’t.

His lips are warm. Dry at first... hesitant. But then you feel him tilt toward you, just a little. And his hand rises to rest on your back.

It’s not perfect. It’s a little clumsy. But it’s real.

And when you pull back, breathless and flushed, you cough but not a single petal falls.

Zoro watches you, eyes searching.

When he speaks, his voice is low “Guess that’s one way to test if it’s real.”

You smile “Feels pretty real to me.”

It’s been days since your last petal.

Chopper checks your lungs every morning now with his stethoscope and a hopeful smile, and every time he hears nothing but clean, healthy breathing, he squeaks in joy and flails his little hooves around.

You owe him everything.

Which is why you're now crouched outside the kitchen with a stack of pink cupcakes, a tiny hand-sewn thank-you card (drawn with crayons), and one extremely annoyed swordsman beside you.

Zoro crosses his arms “I still don’t get why I have to be here.”

“Because you helped me live,” you say, balancing the cupcakes with exaggerated care “And Chopper basically didn’t sleep for a week watching over me. We’re doing this together.”

Zoro grumbles “I could’ve just said thanks.”

You grin “And yet, here you are. Holding a party hat.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

“You will wear it.”

He grunts again but doesn’t argue further.

You knock on the door.

“Chopper! Can you come out here for a sec?”

He waddles out, sleepy-eyed, blinking up at youmand freezes.

His eyes go huge.

The cupcakes are stacked with pink frosting, each topped with tiny candy flowers. The card is messy and full of stickers, and you made sure to draw you, Chopper, and Zoro in crayon (Zoro has three swords and a frowny face, just for accuracy).

Zoro groans beside you.

“Thanks for helping me” you say brightly, holding it all out “We love you, Chopper.”

Chopper’s cheeks go red “Wha—whaaa?! I—I—I was just doing my job! Y-You didn’t have to—!”

Zoro, looking like he’d rather be stabbed, mumbles, “Thanks, you tiny doctor.”

Chopper makes a noise. A mix between a squeak and a sob.

He bursts into tears, flinging his tiny arms around your leg and Zoro’s knee at the same time.

“I’m so happy you’re not dead!!!”

Zoro looks at you, completely frozen.

You just smile, slip the party hat onto his head, and whisper “Told you this would be worth it.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Heart and Home

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky was unexpected, but you’re grateful for it. Because if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be surrounded by these misfits turned heroes that you and your daughter now call “family”.

Bucky was finishing breakfast when he receives a video call. He immediately smiles when he sees the caller ID is you and the contact photo is of you and your daughter, Emilia.

“Morning, baby.” He says with a smile as your face appears on screen.

You giggle, “Morn-“

“MORNING, BUCKYYY!” four-year old, Emilia shouts into the phone, as she practically grabs the phone from you.

Bucky chuckles, “Good morning, sweet Emmy.”

“Where you?”

“At the tower, baby, but I’m seeing you in a bit. Right?”

“Yeah!” Emmy takes a pause and then asks, “Where Auntie Lena?”

Yelena immediately shoots out of her chair and grabs Bucky’s phone, “Well hello there, my precious Emmy.”

“AUNTIE LENA!” Emmy screeches.

You wince at the volume of your daughter, “Emmy, inside voice, please.”

“Sorry, mommy,” she gives you a sheepish look and then looks back at the phone, “Auntie Lena, I pushed someone off the slide!”

You sigh and Bucky, offscreen says, “Excuse me?”

“Yeeaaah, when we were at the park yesterday, a boy was being mean to her and…well…yeah, she pushed him off the slide.”

Yelena shrugs, “As she should, she was defending herself.”

You groan, “Yelena, I’m trying to teach her that violence isn’t the answer!”

“Not very realistic because sometimes it is the answer when other people are trying to hurt you, yes?” Alexei says off-screen.

Bucky looks at the Red Guardian in disbelief, “Alexei, she’s four. Who the heck is gonna try to hurt her?”

Alexei points to the phone, “Didn’t she say a boy was being mean to her?”

Yelena rolls her eyes and asks Emmy, “Emmy, what do I always tell you about Alexei?”

“Never listen to him ‘cause he’s a dum dum.”

“Hey!”

John snickers, “She’s not wrong,” and Ava smirks.

Bucky plucks his phone back from Yelena, “I’ll come over after this.”

“Ooorrr, you guys can come here. Bob and I can watch Emmy while you and Y/N go out.” Yelena suggests and Bucky cocks a brow at her, “What? It’s been a while since Emmy’s been here.”

Bucky snorts and turns back to you on the phone, “How ‘bout it, baby? Wanna go on a date while Emmy hangs here?”

“As long as all weapons are put away properly this time.”

Everyone turns to Alexei and he looks up in confusion, “It doesn’t hurt to start them young!”

“She’s four!” John exclaims in disbelief.

Yelena, John, Ava, and Alexei all begin to bicker and Bucky distances himself from the dining table turned debate podium.

He slowly approaches Bob, who’s sitting in his recliner by the window, “Hey, man, is it okay if you and Yelena watch Emmy while Y/N and I go on a date today?”

Bob looks up from his book with a soft smile, “Yeah. I’d be happy to.” Bucky turns the phone to Bob to show Emmy and Bob smiles wider, “Hi, Emmy!”

“Hi Uncle Robby! Can we paint again?”

Bob chuckles, “Sure, honey. I’ll get everything ready. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“YAY!”

Bucky turns the phone back to him and takes note of the soft look on your face, “What?”

“I’m so happy Emmy has you guys,” a grateful tone can be heard in your voice.

Your pregnancy with Emmy was very lonely. Your parents were gone and Emmy’s father didn’t want anything to do with her. You had a single mother’s support group, but they didn’t feel like family.

And then you met Bucky.

You’d run into him often on your morning walks with Emmy after she was born and you two got to talking. One thing led to another and now you’re in a serious relationship with him and you and Emmy both consider his team to be family.

It’s not just you and Emmy anymore and you’re grateful.

“We’re happy to have you too, sweetheart,” Bucky replies with fondness.

You found a home in Bucky and he found his heart in you and Emmy.

You two were perfect for each other.

“Mommy lessgo! I wanna see Auntie Lena!” Emmy tugs on your arm in excitement causing you and Bucky to laugh.

“Alright. Alright! Let’s get dressed!” You turn to Bucky, “See you in a bit. Love you.”

“I love you.”

“Love you Bucky!”

“I love you too, Emmy. See you soon.”

“Byyyeeee!!” Emmy says with a wave and then you end the call.

Bucky pockets his phone and then looks back at the team, “All weapons away NOW. Locked up and hidden away. And absolutely NO shooting practice.” He looks at Alexei and then Yelena, pointing his metal finger at her, “And no fight training.”

Yelena scoffs, “Fine.”