#I’m dead inside just after watching that

[faeriekit]

Immediate Roadside Assistance Required

Phic phight fill for sapphireshield (no tumblr listed)

Warnings for: extremely mild depictions of domestic violence

The car that pulls over is a SUV. Beige. Kind of grimy. There’s a mom at the front; inside, Dani bets there’s probably one or two kids.

The mom rolls down the window. She looks nice. Kind of soft. Tough, in a kind of mom sort of way, but soft enough to see a girl with her thumb out at the side of the road and actually pull over. It’s a sweet gesture; Dani has a vague idea that hitchhiking hasn’t been trendy since the eighties, so this’ll have to do.

The mom sticks an elbow out the window and looks Dani up and down. “You alright, sweetheart?” she asks, a different twang on her tongue than the vowels Dani’s been used to all her (short) life. Dani might be out farther than she thought.

Dani grins. For this mom, it’s nice ‘n sweet. “I’m good! I need a ride, though; I’m trying to get to my stepparent’s place. Tryin’ to get as far as the border.”

The woman flattens her lips. She probably thinks Dani’s a runaway, but she’s not. Dani’s something a lot worse.

“You sure?” The mom looks up at the sky, even as her kid squeals about something snack-related in the back. “It’s about to get dark out, honey. Storm’s coming.”

Dani’s grin doesn’t let up. “I’m gonna go meet my brother! I already know where I’m gonna lay up, so don’t worry!”

The mom is for sure worrying; worrying her lip between her teeth, and worrying over a scruffy kid in a torn-up hoodie. “...Well. ‘Long as I get to see him when we get there. Hop in.”

Dani grins, and hops up in the car.

It’s a little warmer in there. Smells like cheerios; there’s a baby, Dani notices, in the back seat. It’s got her middle two fingers in its mouth and big brown eyes.

Dani waves. The baby stares, since babies do that, and Dani occupies herself by making funny faces over the shoulder of the passenger seat, eager to elicit a giggle from a little kid. She loves little kids. She wishes she’d been allowed to be one.

“You might want to turn around and buckle in, young lady,” the mom drawls, wiping stress off her forehead. “Don’t want you to die if we end up in a crash.”

I can’t, Dani doesn’t say, because she’s nice. I’m already dead.

So she turns around and buckles herself in. The mom flicks on the radio, and a woman’s voice starts growling over an electric guitar and a roughed-up drum kit. It sounds fun.

This ride’s going to be good. Dani grins, all teeth and brimstone. There’s a storm rolling in, bad luck hanging in the air like vapor and sparks. Lightning’s on its way.

It’s a long way to the state border. Dani’s going to enjoy every minute she can with the window down, electricity in her fingers, and the quiet humming of the driver singing along.

*

They make it to a rest stop about three quarters of the way there.

Dani’s not against stopping, so she just peeks out the window, watching cars and exhausted drivers slog through the paved flats of the rest stop parking lot. “What’re we doing?” Dani asks, entertained in her own way. Maybe this nice mom is going to try to hand her off to CPS!

It wouldn’t work, but, you know. It would be kind of annoying, if ultimately well-meaning.

“Diaper change for the baby,” the mom offers, and, yeah, that’s practical. “Vending machine break for me. Bathroom break for you, probably.”

Oh, that checks out. “Alright!”

The child lock pops, and Dani hops out of the car; she waits, patiently, for the mom to bring out the baby, who looks even more luminous asleep and spitty than when it's awake.

“It slept through a lot of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” Dani admires. The baby gets held to mom’s chest, a blanket wrapped around them both. “That’s cool.”

“He’s heard a lot of Joan Jett since he was born. I’d be shocked if he couldn’t sleep through a hurricane at this point.”

Dani trots after the mom, patient in her wake. They don’t look too much alike, so maybe there are other people wondering if they even know each other at all, or if Dani’s getting kidnapped or traded away for cigarettes. Or probably they just think Dani’s getting babysat, helping watch a baby while the mom ends up driving them over and away from wherever Dani’s landed herself this time.

The diapers the baby uses are a thick, sort of plush material. They look soft. There are little pastel teddy bears on them: one blue, one pink. Dani gets to touch one when the Mom asks her to pull one out of the big blue bag. There are a whole lot crammed in there; they’re packed in so tight that it’s hard to pull one out of the stack without pulling out all the others, but the baby can only wear one diaper at a time!

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the mom says. It’s the nicest anyone’s been to Dani in ages. She’s glad she lived long enough to hear a soft mom call her sweetie and sweetheart for no reason other than being convenient. “You have to go?”

Dani shakes her head. The mom gives her a look. “We’ll be in the state for another hour. You want to try, at least?”

…She hesitates. The baby doesn’t notice, busy playing with its toes as its mom tries to wriggle it back into its butt covering for the sake of covering its butt. She doesn’t usually have bodily functions that actually…function. But the mom lady didn’t know that.

Whatever. She’d play a game of Snake in there. “‘Kay.”

Dani goes into a stall, flicks open her phone, and manages to eat like twenty little pixels before she actually runs into her own little snake body and dies. Ugh. It doesn’t take up too much time— how much time are humans supposed to spend in the bathroom, anyway??— so she fires up a new game and almost gets through it before she hears someone yell. Dani jolts.

The baby starts crying, faint and far away. Dani quickly grabs herself together and puts the phone away. If something’s happening— something happening to the mom and the baby—

Dani dashes out of the bathroom. There’s a guy at the door. There’s a guy holding the baby by the arm so that the baby is dangling and the guy is yelling at the mom who’d driven Dani here, physically pushing her when she tries to get her baby back.

The instinct to hit him is impossible to wrangle. It’s too bad, but Dani has to help the baby and the mom. Hitting him might hurt the baby, if she isn’t careful— doubly true if she uses an ecto-blast.

She goes invisible instead.

Carefully pulling the baby intangibly through the man’s grip is a quiet, tense process. The baby keeps crying and crying and crying, but the more she hides it, the quieter the cries seem.

And then there’s a baby shallowly crying in her arms.

The guy doesn’t even realize, too busy shoving and hitting the mom who’d done nothing wrong. Dani hates this guy. He reminds her of Vlad— too angry that he isn’t getting his way, and never understanding why no one’s obeying him fast enough.

Dani hoists the baby into one arm, mirroring the way the mom had carried it into the rest stop when they first came in. The hold doesn’t feel as secure as Dany thinks it ought to, but it frees up a hand.

Dani grabs the mom’s hand.

The woman disappears into thin air. The guy looks so spooked.

Dani giggles. Either way, it’s super easy and simple to fly the mom and the baby through the bathroom walls, and hiding them in the bathroom cleaner closet seems safer than hiding them in a stall. Dani doesn’t pause when the mom gasps, frightened by the change in scenery; she pops the baby into her arms and disappears back the way she came.

Dani Phantom has a guy to beat up.

There are lots of ways to scare humans, Dani finds; humans are afraid of the dark, and afraid of what they can’t control. They’re afraid of pain, and they’re afraid of loud noises. Humans aren’t afraid of everything all the time, but they can be afraid of more things when they’re combined than when they’re not.

So Dani flexes her aura. The lights flicker in the main room of the rest stop. The man stops, but his hand is still raised.

He looks to see where the baby is, and realizes that he’s empty-handed. The woman is gone.

The lights go out.

Dani loves being seen sometimes. She doesn’t like being bothered, but she loves attention when she knows no one can call the cops on her; so she drips green. She lets herself glow, gloopy and malformed, as she pulls herself through the wall. She turns melty eyes onto the man who took the baby from its mom.

The guy kind of looks like he’s going to piss himself. Good.

Dani starts to fake cry. It starts out as little sniffles— and then moans, and sobs, Dani clawing herself out of the wall until she’s floating, midair, half-formed and wailing. She kind of hopes she looks super spooky, like one of those CGI gross guys from Stranger Things, or that girl who walked down the stairs in a spooky backbend one time.

The guy steps back. Great. Dani inches forwards. The guy steps back again, face pale as a china plate, looking inches from giving up the ghost and bolting off to the parking lot.

Excellent.

Dani takes her hands off of her face to show melting, distorted features. And she screams.

The guy is gone in seconds. He should just be a sprinter instead of bullying moms and their little babies! Dani huffs, hands on her hips. Whatever. As long as he’s gone, he can do whatever he likes.

Dani barely remembers to set her face right before going to get the mom and baby out of the closet. It doesn’t matter how human she looks, though, because when she opens the door back up for them, the mom looks like she’s seen a ghost.

Dani grins, and probably her teeth aren’t showing anything too weird or spooky. “That guy left! Can we go now?”

The mom takes a deep, rattling breath. She does that thing where she touches her forehead, her chest, and then the air above her shoulders. No one’s told Dani what that means so far, but she’s seen it a lot.

“...Sure, sweetheart.”

Dani beams.

They make it to the edge of the state just as the rain starts to pour down. The mom is still looking for Danny by the time Dani points them into a gas station, but Danny’s not here; Dani made him up long enough to get a ride as far as she thought she could get tonight. The mom is still peering through the gloom of the driver’s side window as Dani turns herself transparent and flies out and away.

The mom was nice. The baby was nice. Dani liked this ride.

She walks, intangible, through the rain. The highway is dark, and wet, but Dani’s optimistic; sometimes people feel bad for her, so she gets more rides in a thunderstorm than on a sunny day. After an hour, somewhere on a rural road she’s never seen nor heard of before, Dani sticks her thumb out for a low little car going exactly the speed limit.

The car has a little old couple in the front and passenger seat. They look like grandparents. The grandpa rolls down his window, white eyebrows pushed together. “You need a ride, honey?”

Dani grins.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Smol snippet because the angst hit me all of a sudden.

CW: mentions of death, mental fucking breakdown djxkd-, grief, angst, Sunday is sad :’’’’)), 2.0-2.1 spoilers.

(Disclaimer with a 2.2 trailer/livestream spoiler: I’m aware that she isn’t actually dead, but this is made in mind with Sunday who doesn’t know that.)

No mentioned gender for reader.

Writing under the cut (SFW):

“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby say it to me.”

Cradled in your arms he cannot even cry. He feels empty and lost. Sunday… what use is the name Sunday if there is no Robin to call after him? He failed her. Her, the one who shone so brightly in his life.

He can remember every birthday, every scrape, every “good morning” and “good night”. He can remember every “I love you”. Thinking about these memories, holding that light cone with a moment in time held so dear trapped within it’s frame- It fills the emptiness with something.

Sunday tightens his grip on you, fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as a silent sob wracks his body.

Anguish.

That is the name of the emotion that colors his empty insides with dark and dreary hues of blues and blacks; his heart with the color of life as it bleeds in her absence.

You pet the back of his head, holding him back just as tightly as he finally allows himself to fall apart in only the company of solitude and you. The seraph finally allows his wings to rest. The figurehead finally takes off the perfect mask.

“Why did it have to be her?” He can’t understand how this happened. How could his lovely, perfect sister be gone?

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sunday,” is all you can say. But that much is enough. He lets his tears wet your shoulder as he hides away from the reality of her death and the world. He’s grateful you’re here at least. In the back of his mind that’s fracturing and breaking to pieces, he wonders what he’d do if he didn’t even have you to hold him together. Would he fall apart? Lose himself entirely?

A dash of gratitude and love colors his bleakness in a splash of warm pinks and oranges- Like the sunset he watched with you in the dreamscape not too long ago.

She was everything before he met you. Being the older brother, she was like his first child. He can remember looking at her tiny, chubby face when she was still too young to talk, and thinking- “This is my baby sister.” He was supposed to take care of her- protect her.

Thinking of how someone killed her in cold blood and made those starlight eyes close forever… Deep reds formed.

Anger.

He would force the criminal into the light and bring about retribution for their evil.

“Will you help me?”

He asked, eyes almost manic and wings spread; looking almost like an angry, vengeful fallen angel in that moment.

You took his hand and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the hand that accepted his.

“Thank you, my love.”

I wanted to include how every older sibling’s first child is their baby sibling, lololol. And just. I can’t imagine how much grief he had to have been going through. OTL

I might edit this or add to it later this was just a blurb I wrote in like five minutes-

[faetreides]

cw: 18+ mdni content, painal, blood, period sex, pseudo incest, extreme dubcon, degradation but also praise, typical rafe warnings, fem labels, dead dove: DO NOT EAT

thinking about bloody anal with stepbro!rafe bc you’re on your period! he has no problems fucking the shit out of your puffy pussy, but there’s just something irresitble abour stretching your ass out while watching your cunt bleed. he likes to stare at where the two of you connect, almost treating you more like a pocket pussy than his stepsister. he’s not gentle about it whatsoever, immediately thrusting his tip past your walls and spanking you.

“c’mon, mama, let me in.” he grits out, slapping a hand over your mouth to silence your whines.

on the rare chance that the two of you have the house to ourselves, he’d love to hear you yelp and howl for his dick. but it’s 7 am on a monday morning and he couldn’t wait to pounce on you as soon as he saw the pads in the trash can of your shared bathroom. rafe held a finger to his lips when you started waking up to the sound of your bedroom door lock being played with. he knelt on your pink bed and crawled over you, his pupils blown out and his arms tensing in anticipation.

you try to plead with rafe to at least wait until everyone else is asleep. but he doesn’t seem to care about the sounds of your blended family moving through the house and his dick barges in any way. all you can do is sob against his hand and let him split you open. rafe pretends he doesn’t feel you shake your little ass back on his length, you keep up the charade that you don’t love that this is hurting you.

“shh shh, good girl. keep swallowing this dick, alright?” he whispers against your temple, tightening his grip on your face and bullying more inches into your reddening ass.

“this’ll help with the cramps, i’m doin’ my little slut a favor, honey.”

he’s not letting you go so you can clean up for a reason.

he bottoms out with a silent groan, mouthing ‘FUCK!’ into your pillow. you squeal, too tired and overwhelmed to register anything but your stepbrother’s huge cock inside you. this wasn’t how you imagined fucking him again, though you’re ashamed to say you imagined it all. listening to the soft rain pelt your window as rafe caresses your ass, he’s at least giving you enough grace to get yourself together and adjust.

he bites his lip when some of your blood trickles down to touch where your ass is stretched around his dick. more blood follows suit as he starts at a rough pace, and the sight of your matted pubic hair combined with your wide teary eyes could make him cum in the spot.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. just be a good girl, your big brother’s already claimed this tight fucking ass hole. all you have to do is take it.” he says and tugs your face to his so he can spit on his hand, he can’t exactly take his hand off so he can spit in your mouth but he can imagine it. “just me and not that limp dick boy that’s been following you around.”

after thrusting for a bit, rafe looks down to see that your blood has frothed around his cock. mixing with your slick (because of course you’re so fucking wet) and the cum he left inside you last night to form a pink ring around the base.

“aw, look sweetie,” he coos, pushing your head down to gaze at his cock pistoning in and out of your soaked pussy. “it’s your favorite color!”

you whimper into his fingers and do your best to nod, wishing that you could reach down and rub your clit. but rafe’s got your wrists in his other hand behind your back, and he’s probably the type that would be all territorial about you touching yourself. you were both so drunk last night off whatever you could find in ward’s cabinet, it was your first time trying alcohol and you went a little overboard. but you both were too fucked up to put a name or expectations to what you have.

rafe surprises you and lets go of your wrists. he digs his now free digits into your clit, flicking the swollen bud in time with his thrusts in your ass. he unintentionally edges you because he keeps bring his hand up to his mouth so he suck the blood off of his fingers.

“hmm, you taste good, sis. sometimes i wish i could bite all over this slutty body and really leave my mark, but this’ll be enough for now, right?”

you don’t care about your family making their presence known downstairs, or about the bloody mess rafe is making of you anymore. you always wanted his attention and approval, so you lick the fingers covering your mouth and wiggle your ass back on his dick again. the earth shattering orgasm you later have around him was so intense that he’s almost sad that it wasn’t on camera.

the ridiculous hot pink heart shaped plug he shoves inside your abused hole makes for the perfect lockscreen on his phone though.

[poltergeist-coffee]

it’s 2 am and all i can think about is insaneduo

[theythemmer]

idk if i’m deleting here yet but have deleted every other social app off my phone tonight lmao i already went absolutely ballistic at my 2 best friends for 6 months worth of pent up issues it is very much best for everyone if i just completely shut down. i’m still gonna try allow myself tumblr tho bc there’s way less drama than twt and dnp are still like. the only thing that makes me happy

[cursingtoji]

“hm hello? do you need help?” yuuji approached the lady walking the hallways so slowly she seemed lost.

“huh?” you turned and he smiled, thinking how gorgeous you looked. your uniform was a lot like nobara’s, although it was lighter, like it was slightly bleached or just worn a lot, “no, i… i go here.”

“oh are you gojo-sensei’s student too?” he was excited to meet another student, it was such a big school for just a few people.

“gojo… sensei” you repeated confused.

“oh you must be utahime-sensei’s student then? from kyoto?” he tilted his head, like a puppy.

“utahime…” you whispered, “is geto here?” you asked with a certain urgency in your voice, “geto suguru.”

“who? geto?” he scratched his head, trying to remember if he heard about a sensei called geto suguru, “i don’t think i—“

“itadori!” megumi called from outside, yuuji saw him die below through the open windows of the second floor he was at, his classmate probably saw him as well.

“ah fushiguro!” he greeted his friend and turned back to you, “i’ll ask megumi, he’s been here for longer than me.”

“who you talking to?!” megumi shouted.

“her!” he pointed, you were in front of him, right by the opened window too, he couldn’t see you?

megumi even moved a bit, “itadori, there’s no one there. stop playing, we got to leave!” megumi scolded him before entering the building.

“eh?” yuuji was frowning.

“sorry, i think i’m in the wrong place” you bowed and turned away running.

“wait!” he ran after you, turning corners he thought you could’ve gone but after a few ones he reached a dead end.

“hm? yuuji?” gojo emerged from a classroom.

“gojo-sensei! there was… someone…” he looked around.

“oi, we’re waiting for you, let’s go” megumi came from where he was, grabbing yuuji by the hood of his uniform and dragging him away.

gojo watched through a window as they walked down the staircase until both boys walked out of the building.

“that was weird” you murmured from inside the classroom he was in, “that boy called you sensei” you put more rice into your hungry mouth, “does yaga know you’re pretending to be a teacher here?”

satoru closed the door, lighting another incense on the table that you used to sit. where every year on the anniversary of your death he built a shrine with food you liked.

“i thought haibara was in a mission but i saw him by the tree” you pointed behind you with your chopsticks, where, outside the classroom and behind the building remained the tree you always had lunch underneath during hot summer days.

he undid the blindfold, letting his hair fall as he sat in front of you, admiring how you never aged a day. after all, you couldn’t.

in fact, it seemed like you didn’t realize how much time has passed. every year you appeared and every year you thought it was still 2006, when you had two kouhais that did everything you asked, a girl best friend that insisted you smoked with her and two boys that were helplessly in love with you. the last year you were alive.

“is suguru not coming?” you asked with your mouth full.

gojo swallowed hard, “no, angel. it’s just us.”

[screampied]

can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’

sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3

“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”

he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.

“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.

“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”

“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.

sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”

“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”

you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.

sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?

the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.

he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”

“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”

“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”

a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”

“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”

you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”

sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”

“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.

sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”

“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.

usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.

he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”

“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.

with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.

abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kuku.”

“…..call me that again and see what happens.”

[togenabi]

pick me up

roronoa zoro (opla) x reader

♡—zoro never paid your jokes or pickup lines any mind. that is, until something happens that makes you stop.

word count♡— 3.2k

genre♡— mild angst, fluff, straw hat!reader

content notes♡— opla zoro, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and tells very bad jokes, creepy dude oc, don't be creepy be cool yall, reader pulls off a heist with nami, zoro gets jealous, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, barely proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is a request from anon! I'm sorry if I tweaked a few things, I'm not the best at angst hhhh I hope you still like it!

“Okay, okay. Wait. I got it this time.” You say, already trying to keep from laughing. 

“Why were the kids having trouble in pirate class?”

Zoro only side-eyes you with his arms crossed, vehemently unimpressed. 

“Because they were overbored!” 

Watching for his reaction intently, you keep your eyes focused on his face... Nothing changes. 

You tsk, but aren’t seriously discouraged. This is how he always reacts to your jokes, after all. “I’ll get you one of these days, Roronoa Zoro.”

The swordsman only sighs, leaning back into his seat to take a nap. “You do that.”

“Don’t listen to him, love.” Sanji says from the other side of the kitchen as he cleans the counter. “I thought that joke was good.”

“You’re lying, but I appreciate the sentiment, Sanji.” You grin at him. Focusing back on the book you were reading, you miss the amused, challenging look Sanji sends Zoro.

Everyone hears Luffy approaching the kitchen before he enters. “Guys!” He bellows. “We’ll be reaching land soon. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes!”

The majority of the day is spent restocking supplies. You were all split up into pairs, but before you left, Luffy pointed to a restaurant with a flashy, illuminated sign on top that reads: ‘Bistro of Light’. How cringey of them.

“We should meet there for dinner! You don’t mind taking a break, right, Sanji?” Luffy asks eagerly, and you think that no one could say no to him when he’s so enthusiastic. Sanji nods, and you all go through the town until the sun starts to set.

The inside of the restaurant is just as ridiculous as the sign outside. Chandeliers of every color hang on the ceiling. Huge fish tanks and fountains lined with lights almost blind you. You laugh when looking at it all causes Zoro to wince. 

“Hey Zoro,” You call for him. “You know what’s faster than the speed of light?”

“...”

“My heartbeat when I think of you!” You wink at him, proud of the joke even when he only sighs and looks away.

Usopp walks up to a receptionist standing behind a desk. “Hey. Table for six, if you would be so kind.”

“I’m afraid we’re at full capacity at the moment.” They respond. “You’ll have to wait, is that alright?”

Everyone shares a look. Except for Luffy, who looks dead set on eating here, you all feel unsure about waiting.

“When’s the next table going to be available?” Usopp asks. “We’re actually a really big deal. It’s gonna be really embarrassing for you guys if you don’t let us in.” The person frowns, face screaming, ‘is this guy serious’?

But before they can reply, a booming voice enters the restaurant. A tall man, dressed in a pristine white suit and wearing jewels on every finger, pushes you out of the way to yell at the receptionist. You stumble, but thankfully Zoro is there to catch you.

“What on earth is going on here?! Why are there so many people crowding the entryway?!” He fumes, angrily gesturing to your group. 

“If they’re not going to eat, then I strongly suggest—” The rich man freezes suddenly, his eyes trained on you.

You keep your face as emotionless as possible, but you die laughing inside when Nami swipes a brooch from his jacket while he’s distracted with you.

“Ah,” The man says. His tone softening a considerable amount as he walks over to you. “I thought I had the best jewels in my treasury, but you're the most radiant gem I've ever laid my eyes on.” It takes everything in you to not back away. Zoro tenses beside you.

“Why haven’t these guests been guided to a table?” He asks, turning back to the receptionist.

“We’re at full capacity, Sir.” Oh. He must own the place. It makes sense that the owner is as gaudy as everything else in here.

“That won’t do.” He looks back to you, and you swear you could feel your skin crawl under his gaze. 

“I am Helios. Welcome to my establishment.” The man introduces himself with a flourish, bowing to you. His jewels and gold accessories glint in the light. “What might your name be?”

Reluctantly, you introduce yourself. Had this been a normal situation, you would have turned around and walked away from him the second he saw you. But, you could feel the crew going hungry, and you’re sure Nami will want to snag another ring or two—so you play nice.

Helios smiles, repeating your name. He was probably trying to sound romantic, but he’s not doing anything for you. Not when Zoro says your name much better.

You keep Zoro’s voice in mind, remembering how nice it sounds. It’s easier to smile at Helios that way. Time to lay on the charm, “I was really looking forward to having dinner here. I don’t suppose you could help us out?”

“Follow me, my dear. You deserve to dine upstairs. The view is simply spectacular at this hour.” Helios holds out his hand to you, but Luffy—bless his soul—grabs it to shake it zealously.

“Thanks so much for letting us eat here, Mr. Helios!” Luffy claps him on the back. Helios looks dumbfounded, and the crew does an impressive job keeping their composure. 

Helios tries to walk beside you as he guides you all upstairs, but Zoro is steadfast on your right, and Nami smartly positions herself on your left. Luffy and Usopp tug the restaurant owner along, chatting his ear off. You almost feel bad for him. 

Nami murmurs, her voice carefully silent so only you can hear. “Treasury, huh?”

You smile. “Of course you’d be curious about that.”

“Think you could get us to his mansion?” She dares you, eyes aglow at the promise of a good heist.

“I know I can.” You pause walking to check your reflection on an ornate, sun-shaped mirror. After fixing your hair, you grin at your friends. “I’m irresistible, after all.”

Maybe if you weren’t busy buttering up your host, you would have noticed that Zoro wasn’t eating properly. Normally, you would force him to eat. You would pile food on his plate, telling that joke about fake noodles being impasta that always cracks you up.

Zoro frowns at the meal in front of him. The fish seems to frown back. Sighing, he decides to just order another drink. But no matter what he consumes, a bitter taste always blooms in his mouth afterwards. 

The glass in his hand almost cracks when he hears your voice sucking up to Helios again. “So, you own this place? Do you live around here?”

Helios leans far too close towards you, but you grin and bear it. “Would you like a private tour, my gem?”

You place a hand on his arm, he may read it as affection, but you hold him so he keeps that distance. “That sounds wonderful.”

Zoro huffs under his breath. He needs another drink. 

Thankfully, Helios serves good booze at his manor. Zoro almost didn’t want to drink any of it, but he needs alcohol in his system if he has to watch you flirt with this idiot so Nami can rob him blind. Whatever she steals better be worth all this, or else he might punch something. Or someone. Preferably Helios.

You share a look with Nami and give her an imperceptible nod. With that signal, she passes by and pretends to lose her footing. Wine seeps into your clothes, staining the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Did she really have to pick red wine? You liked this shirt.

“Oh, my dear!” Helios gasps. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll have my servants draw you a bath and bring you fresh clothes.”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going.” Nami loops her arm through yours. “Let me help you with that.” 

And so, with another fake smile sent Helios’ way, you rush with Nami to find the treasury.

“Be quick.” Nami says once you enter the luxurious bathroom prepared for you. 

As tempting as the bubble bath is, you only take a few wet towels to tidy up. You step into the curtained area, about to strip when Nami holds out a hand to stop you.

“Wait.” She says, her tone serious. A teddy bear holding a rose is propped up on a shelf behind you. Tapping its eyes, Nami scowls before throwing the bear into the trash bin.

“A camera?” She nods. “Seriously? What a creep.”

You and Nami inspect the room. It’s not clear if there are other hidden cameras, but she stands guard in front of the shower curtains just in case.

“Hey,” She starts. “Did you notice Zoro acting weird tonight?”

You frown as you change into the dress Helios prepared. “What do you mean?”

Nami hums in thought. “He’s just…” A dumbass, she wants to say, but doesn’t. ��He seems extra grumpy.”

That causes you to laugh. “I guess I should prepare more jokes for him when we get back.”

She winces. “...I’m not that sure he likes those.”

“Hm… Maybe not, but,” You pause to think. He may not laugh loudly as Luffy does, but he never shot you down for being bubbly around him. “Zoro would have told me to shut up by now if he didn’t, right?”

“Huh.” Nami says. “You got a point.”

You push the curtains aside, grinning at her. “Come on, let’s break into that treasury.”

“Of course, my gem.”

“Oh my god, if that sticks I’m going to be so mad.”

The treasury was a vault full of everything from jewels to ornamental weapons. Nami playfully crowned you with a diamond tiara, and she put on dangling emerald earrings that looked stunning on her.

After filling your bags and pockets with the most you can carry, you and Nami head out to find the others. You run into Usopp on the way back to the lounge.

“I see you two cleaned up well.” He jokes. “Luffy and Sanji are in the kitchen. I was just on my way there.”

“Where’s Zoro?” You ask.

“With Helios. You know him, still drinking.”

“We should leave soon.” Nami insists. “We risk getting caught the longer we stay.”

“Right.” You hand Usopp your bag, his eyes widen comically when he feels how heavy it is. “I’ll just go say goodbye, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Before you even enter the lounge, however, you hear Zoro speak your name. Are they talking about you? You press your back against the wall, straining to hear their conversation.

You almost wish you didn’t.

“She tells the worst jokes and doesn’t know when to quit it. Thinks she’s hilarious but she’s really not.” Zoro speaks in that deep voice that would usually be comforting to you—but his words now pierce through you painfully.

“What exactly is your relationship with her?” Helios asks, and Zoro is silent. It feels like your heart crumbles for every second he doesn’t answer.

You’re friends! You’ve been dreaming of more but, you’ve always been friends.

…Aren’t you? Doesn’t he think so?

“I don’t know.” Your heart fully shatters. What does he mean he doesn’t know? “She just sticks to me a lot. It can get annoying.”

“Well. That’s unfortunate, but it’s nothing to sob over.” Helios kisses his teeth. “I don’t care about her attitude. All that doesn’t matter as long as she has that pretty face.”

You wait for Zoro to say something. Anything. You want him to cut Helios where he stands.

But he doesn’t. The silence drags on. The air feels like it’s pushing you down, crushing your lungs. You have to get out of here.

You burst into the kitchen, trying your best not to cry. Nami immediately rushes to you, holding your shoulders to steady you. “What happened?”

Letting out a shuddered breath, you whisper, “You were right.” It’s impossible to think straight right now. “I want to leave.”

You look to Luffy, still shaken up. Your captain’s expression is serious as he nods. “Go ahead, we’ll get Zoro and catch up.” Not needing to be told twice, you head out the door.

Before she follows you, Nami hisses at Sanji, “Talk some sense into that dumbass, won’t you?”

The entire walk back to the Going Merry is silent. You’re grateful Nami doesn’t immediately press you for what happened, but you know that you should answer her questions. You finally get the words out in the safety of her cabin.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, and everything comes pouring out. “He called me annoying.” 

“Zoro?” She asked, offering you a box of tissues.

“Yeah.” You sniff, taking the box.

“I’m sorry. That was fucked up of him to say.”

Unsure how to properly comfort you, Nami gets up and retrieves extra pillows from a storage compartment.

“Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” Nami asks, offering you a smile. It pulls a smile out of you too, the first one you mustered since Zoro crushed your spirit. 

“I’d like that.” 

Zoro is confused to find that you and Nami had left before them. Luffy gave Helios some lame excuse that you weren’t feeling well, but Zoro knew better. If you were really sick, the whole crew would be panicking and rushing to get to you.

He stares at Sanji and Usopp, trying to piece together what really happened. They both turn away from him, refusing to say anything.

In the next second, a maid rushes out, panting and screaming, “Mr. Helios! The treasury has been robbed!”

Fine. Answers can come later. For now, they need to run.

Once they’re back on the ship, Sanji follows Zoro into his cabin. He stares at the chef blankly, “Get out.”

“Did you do something?” Sanji leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Get out.” Zoro repeats, about to push him out of the room when Sanji speaks your name.

“She was upset. Asked to leave as soon as possible.” Sanji’s gaze is almost menacing, and his frown deepens when Zoro’s face falls. So, that’s what happened. You had heard him.

“Fuck.” Zoro groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Everyone noticed you getting bitchy over Helios.” Sanji notes “Did you confront him or something?”

Scoffing, Zoro sits on his hammock, the fabric dips under his weight. “It was something, all right.”

Wanting Zoro to explain himself unpromptedly, Sanji just watches him and lets the silence hang in the air. After a solid, suffocating minute, the swordsman caves.

“I called her annoying.” Zoro breathes out deeply. “I said her jokes aren’t funny and that she sticks to me a lot.”

“Man, that’s screwed up.” Sanji gapes. “I thought you cared about her?”

“Of course I do, but I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Zoro defends. “Luffy’s the only one who laughs at her jokes, and she’s always by my side.” 

Sighing, Zoro continues, “...but I never minded any of it. I learned to care for those parts of her a long time ago. I was only trying to get that shithead off her back.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sanji concludes. “You have the emotional depth of a sink, sometimes.”

Zoro, surprisingly, doesn’t insult the chef back. He stares at the wall, slouched and looking the most empty Sanji’s ever seen him.

“What should I do?” He asks. “How should I make it up to her?”

Sanji’s eyes light up, he beams and claps his hands together in excitement. Even if Zoro hasn’t heard it yet, he already dreads the chef’s suggestion. 

“I have an idea.”

When you woke up the next morning, you had every intention of avoiding Zoro like the plague. It was still really difficult to look at him, the hurt you felt still stings your heart. 

But unfortunately for you, he had other plans. 

You’re gazing out into the sea on the forecastle deck when you hear a familiar set of heavy footsteps. You sigh. “I don’t want to talk, Zoro.”

“I’m not here to talk.” You turn to him questioningly, but you really shouldn’t give him the time of day. Wasn’t he the one who complained about you clinging to him?

You don’t say anything. Only glaring at him and hoping he sees how disappointed you feel. Zoro stands here, appearing strangely vulnerable. If you weren’t so hurt, you would have hugged him by now. 

But you are. So he has to wallow in the awkwardness of the consequences of his words. He—wait. What’s that on his face?

“I…” Is he… blushing? “I’m sorry I wasn’t around in the past.” 

You make a face and blink at him. What is he up to?

“...Can I be part of your future?”

That knocks the wind right out of you, your jaw practically falls to the floor. Did Roronoa Zoro just use a pickup line? On you? You can’t help but glance at your surroundings to check if the sky is still blue.

No—hold on. He can’t win you over just like that. He needs to explain why he said what he did. 

“You said my jokes are the worst.” You grumble.

“They are.” Zoro looks straight into your eyes as he speaks. “But you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“You said I always stick to your side.”

He doesn’t miss a beat and answers earnestly, “You do. And I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else.”

“…You said you didn’t know what our relationship is.”

That causes Zoro to pause, searching your eyes as if he’ll find the answer in them. “…I don’t.”

Oh, this impossible sword-brain of a man. Your lips quiver, and you realize you can’t fight back your smile anymore. “I love you, Zoro.”

His expression shifts from anxiousness to shock, relief, and a bit of something else... 

“I love you, too.” Ah, of course. Love, that too.

Slowly, tentatively, he raises his arms, inviting you to an embrace. He’s adorable, looking a teensy bit nervous that you wouldn’t want to hold him. Giggling, you rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he envelops your shoulders. 

“I bet Sanji taught you to apologize with that line.” You murmur into his chest. “If you tell me another one…” Zoro cringes, his frame tensing. 

“...I’ll give you a kiss.” His expression lifts, seriously considering it.

After a minute, Zoro clears his throat. You almost squeal in excitement.

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” A classic. This is going to be good.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward, I just want to have dinner with you.” You gasp, squeezing him tighter. 

“Yes! That was perfect.” Laughing, you reach up and hold his face to keep your promise. 

You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he’s looking at you like he would fight anyone for you. He probably would, if you’re being honest.

“You’re perfect.” He breathes, mouth against yours and then he’s kissing you again.

Hiding behind a pile of crates, the rest of the crew whoop and cheer. (Silently.)

“That was such a good line!” Luffy whispers.

“I still think he should have used the ‘I don’t speak angel’ one.” Usopp whispers back.

“What are you talking about?!” Sanji angrily, quietly mutters. “That was perfect because he apologized and delivered the line.”

“Shut it, you guys. I was right, he didn’t last a day with her mad at him.” Nami holds out her palm. “Pay up.” The others groan, handing her some berry. All’s well that ends well.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

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[antiquarianfics]

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

[slvtforoldermen]

Older!BF!Joel who feels as though he needs to keep you safe, and would literally kill the equivalent of a whole QZ for you

Older!BF!Joel who watches you do your jobs in admiration, thinking you’re so cute and pretty as you work

Older!BF!Joel who gets protective when you get hurt, even if it’s just a scrape

“Joel, I’m fine” “No, I’m putting you on bed rest now…”

Older!BF!Joel who doesn’t like to admit that he loves when you play with his hair

Older!BF!Joel who hates everyone but you

Older!BF!Joel who gets possessive when he sees a guy your age look your way

Older!BF!Joel who slightly grasps your waist because he despises PDA but needs to show that motherfucker who owns you

Older!BF!Joel who is dead silent when you interact with a guy who’s been eyeing you up all night, even though you’re too innocent to even notice, or so he thinks…

Older!BF!Joel who is making out with you the minute you close the door to your home

Older!BF!Joel who eats your pussy on the couch and makes you beg him to make you come

Older!BF!Joel who bends you over, pulling your hair, spanking you every few minutes and then sticking his index and middle finger into your mouth

Older!BF!Joel who is so condescending: “My pretty little girl can’t think for herself huh?” “Nooo, don’t you run away, you stay here and let me fuck you like you wanted” “So good for daddy, that’s right sugar, yeah you are, good little whore.” “Can’t do it yourself baby? Yeah? It’s alright babygirl, I’ll rub your little clit for you…”

Older!BF!Joel who has a dacryphilia kink and turns you over just to see you cry, before he coos down at you and wipes away your tears

Older!BF!Joel who slaps your pussy after he cums inside you

Older!BF!Joel who loves to see you fucked out, brain foggy as you stare up at him with glazed eyes

Older!BF!Joel who massages your thighs when they’re sore because of his weight on you

Older!BF!Joel who tilts your chin up to help you drink some water after because he doesn’t want his girl to go thirsty

Older!BF!Joel who pulls you into his chest and whispers sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep

[simplyholl]

Reckless

Summary: When you act recklessly on a mission, Bucky gets mad at you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

You had really done it now. You made Bucky so mad, he couldn’t even look at you. You were paired together for a mission, and you acted recklessly. You got separated from him and instead of waiting for him, you found the Hydra bunker where they were hiding.

You burst in without a plan and they would have most likely killed you. But Bucky came in and saved you. On the way back, he wouldn’t look at you, speak to you, or even acknowledge your existence.

It took a lot for him to get angry. So you didn’t know how you could fix this. You were such good friends, and he always made time for you. It was going on three days and he ignored every text, call, FaceTime, and knock on his door. You didn’t even know why he was so upset with you. You had done stupid stuff during missions before.

Finally you had enough of the silent treatment, so you waited until it was his normal time to train. He liked to work alone, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone else being there and interrupting you. You made your way to the gym, disappointed that he wasn’t there, nobody was.

You were just about to leave and come up with another plan when you heard someone in the men’s locker room. You hoped it was Bucky as you entered, the smell of soap filled the steamy room. Your sneakers squeaked with every step on the wet tile floor.

You heard Bucky singing some old fashioned song. Following his voice passed the lockers, you step over Thor’s discarded shorts. You shake your head, feeling sorry for the cleaners Tony hired. You see Bucky’s head peaking over the shower door. For a split second, you debate turning around. But you want your friend back more than anything, so you continue all the way to the showers.

“James, we need to talk.” Bucky jumps at the sound of your voice. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.” He rolls his eyes, turning towards the spray of water. “You wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t know when I’d be able to catch you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he picks up the shampoo bottle squirting some into his palm.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I just want you to talk to me.” He reaches up to wash the shampoo out of his hair, eyes closed. “I know you can hear me. Bucky, please?” You beg him but he continues ignoring you. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to. You set your phone down on the bench beside you. You reach down to take off your shoes then your socks.

You grab the handle to the shower door, letting yourself inside. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees you in the shower with him. He makes an awkward attempt to cover his self. “Get out of here!” You walk over to him, “No! This is the only way to get you to pay attention to me!” You walk closer, “Tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

Bucky watches as the water sprays you, making your already tight workout clothes cling to your body. His throat bobs as he finally answers. “I’m not mad, I’m furious. You weren’t thinking. You never do. You went by yourself when you were told to wait, and if I hadn’t been close by, you would be dead.”

“I do stuff like that all the time, Buck. Why did it make you so upset?” Bucky takes a step toward you, removing his hands from his hardening cock. “Because I care about you! If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after that stunt you pulled.”

That was just the answer to send all your worries about crossing boundaries out the window. You press yourself against him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. When his lips met yours, it was like you were the only people in the whole world.

His metal hand makes quick work of your sports bra, ripping it right off you. The warm palm of his flesh hand meets your breast. He groans against your neck as his hands travel lower. He jerks your leggings off in one swift motion, throwing them to the side with a wet thud.

You were never so thankful that you didn’t wear panties as you were today. He reaches between you, long fingers dipping into you. You were so wet just from arguing with him, and he knew it. “All this from fighting with me, doll?” He smirks, knowing the effect it will have on you. You clench around his fingers as he curls them upward, his palm gently brushing your clit. “James” you moan, grasping his shoulders for support.

He removes his fingers from you, turning you around so fast that you don’t have time to register how empty you feel now. Bucky presses his body to your back, trapping you between him and the shower door. The cool door makes your nipples harden against it. You feel Bucky’s hard cock rub against the curve of your ass. You try to move to create some type of friction between you, but you can’t. His big body doesn’t budge. He uses his leg to spread you further.

You gasp as he thrusts into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before he plunges deeper, bottoming out. You claw at the shower door, as his thrusts grow brutal. His metal arm wraps around your waist, holding you where he wants you while his flesh hand grabs your chin. He tilts your face to look at him, “Are you going to do anything that stupid ever again?” He asks, his cock brushing that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

You can’t form words, it feels too good. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” Your eyes are glossy, you try to answer but you only make sounds. “My pretty baby, she’s too cock drunk to talk. Is that it, doll? Is my cock too much?” You manage to whisper yes, sending his ego into overdrive.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel like I do. I’ll never touch you again, if you don’t follow orders. Am I understood?” Visions of his old army days flood your mind, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. “Y-yes sir.” You stutter. He seems satisfied with your answer, holding you closer to him. His fingers dig into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, marking you as his.

He snaps his hips one last time, burying his face into your shoulder as he comes inside you. He stays like that for a minute, catching his breath before turning you around. He checks all over your body, his forehead wrinkling as he notices the multiple marks he left behind. “Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so caught up in the moment-“

“It’s okay. I really liked it.” You confess. Bucky sighs in relief, bringing you back under the water, he starts to wash you. “Hey what about me?” Bucky smirks, “What about you, doll?” He washes down your arms. “I didn’t get off.” You state matter of factly. “Oh, I know. Only good girls get to cum.”

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

[verstappen-cult]

Having an argument with Max, sounds exhausting. Especially when both of you are stubborn, but guess what? He'd willingly beg for forgiveness if you are still upset with him and avoiding him as a result of the argument

“I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, shaking your head and taking a step back. 

That is what finally makes Max stop dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open with whatever he was going to say next. 

You’re tired. You woke up less than an hour ago and the first thing you and Max did was argue. And you really didn’t want to start the day this way, but neither of you backed away. Things escalated quickly and you just can’t do it anymore. 

“What are you talking about?” He sounds desperate, his chest heaving. Max clenches his fists by his side, like he wants to reach out. 

You turn your head away, eyes filled with tears. “I’m gonna go see my mother. We’ll talk later.” 

Max feels paralyzed, he can’t seem to do anything but watch you leave. 

*

It’s past eight when you get home. 

The first thing you notice is that the house is lit only by candles. A lot of candles throughout the house. 

Max is nowhere to be seen, Jimmy and Sassy are the ones greeting you by passing between your legs. You bend over to pat their heads and give them a few ear scratches. 

The more you walk into the house, the more your heart breaks. There on the table is a big bouquet of your favorite flowers along with a small card with the word ‘sorry’ written in Max’s handwriting waiting for you. The table is also set with the chinaware you only use on special occasions, and a few more candles. 

When you turn around you see Max curled up on the sofa, your favorite weighted blanket —the one you use when you’re feeling down and Max is away for work— around his shoulders. He looks so cozy, you want to curl up next to him, but you are still a little hurt and angry from the argument you two had in the morning. You’re thinking about what you both said to each other when Max stirs, eyes trying to adjust to seeing in the dim light. 

“Hey,” You say as a greeting, trying not to scare him. 

Max turns around immediately, surprise crossing his features. “You’re home.”

“Yes? Sorry I didn’t say anything but mom wanted me to help her with gardening.” You shrug, leaving your bag and keys on the table next to the couch. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” His voice is barely a whisper, but you hear him anyway. Max exhales deeply, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out, shoulders slumped. Max shuts his eyes tightly, like he’s in so much pain he can barely have them open. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I should’ve listened to you—I’m really sorry. I don’t want us to argue like that again, I felt horrible because I love you and I promised myself I would never do something like this.” You let him talk, to spill everything he has inside of him. “After you left—I wanted to go after you but I knew you needed time. But it made me remember how my dad used to talk to my mom, how they would yell at each other while Vic and I hid in our rooms.” You are already moving towards him, even before you hear how his voice breaks. 

You sit by his side, leaving some space between you two, hands itching to reach out and touch him, to draw him closer to you and hold him. 

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re nothing like him,” You move closer, taking his hands with yours, thumb caressing the back of them. “Don’t you ever dare to go there, okay? You will never be like him, Max. Do you understand?” 

But he doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Max, this is not the first and it’s definitely not going to be the last argument we have. But if we talk about it, if we give ourselves some time to think things through like we did today—this doesn’t mean you are a bad person, or that you are turning into your dad.” You cup his cheek with one of your hands, caressing his cheekbone as you look into his stormy blue eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” He says again, tears in the corners of his eyes. You smile softly at him when he begs for your forgiveness again. 

“Can you forgive me too?” 

“Darling, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, you’re wrong there.” You sniff, already feeling the tears wanting to stream down your face. “We were both wrong, don’t take all the blame.” Max opens his mouth to refute, but you shut him up with a kiss. It’s chaste, full of promises, and leaves you with blood pounding in your ears. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Max nods, gaze fixed on your lips. “Yes,” He directs his gaze back to your eyes, and you can see so much regret in them. “Do you forgive me?” 

“I don’t know,” You tease him by pretending to think about it. “it depends on what you made for dinner.”

A grin spreads across his face and he’s standing up in a second, tugging on your sleeve. “It’s definitely gonna make you forgive me.” He says, pulling the chair out for you to sit. “And if this doesn’t work, I have many other ways to make you forgive me.”

[zylev-blog]

Danny is Jon Kent.

Danny was in English class when it happened. A portal opened under his desk and he fell into it, desk and all. When he was able to get his bearings of whatever he’d been dropped into, he was considering going ghost, but something deep inside of him told him to wait and watch. That his ghost half wasn’t needed yet. So he did.

He looked around. He noticed a teenager, around his age, that was dressed in a gray, black and red costume with a R on the chest, who was standing next to a blonde guy in a long trench coat.

“There you go, Batbrat. One Jon Kent for ya. Don’t kill this one, eh?” Constantine winked and teleported out of the room after clapping the ‘Batbrat’ on the shoulder.

The teen turned to him, walking over slowly. Danny was unnerved. He didn’t know who ‘Jon Kent’ was, or why he was summoned, but he didn’t want to have to defend himself with his English final and a pencil. He pulled the hidden Fentonbat from his pocket and extended it, aiming it at the teen.

“Don’t come any closer.” Danny hissed, “Who are you and why was I summoned here?”

The teen tilted his head. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?” He kept the bat steady in his hands, but he doubted that it would do much against the teen. Something in him told him that the teen was more highly trained than he was and that he could decimate him without any effort.

The teen reached up and pulled the mask off of his face, looking slightly hopeful. “My name is Damian Wayne.” The teen looked him up and down, “The Jon Kent of my world is dead and you will take his place.”

“Alright, look, uh—Damian, was it? First off, I’m not Jon Kent, don’t even know who that is. Second off, I’m not taking some dead teens place. No way. That’s just creepy and it’s not happening.”

He was starting to get creepy vibes from Damian, and the only other person that creeped him out like this was Vlad, and Vlad was… well, Vlad.

“The world is in danger. Superman is going mad with his grief. He needs his son.” Damian looked into his eyes, “And I need my best friend back.”

“That’s a whole lot of nope from me.” He backed away, but found himself with the desk blocking his retreat. “Look, I’m honored but uh, my sister will get worried if I don’t come home and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“You don’t have a sister.” Damian took a few steps forward.

He stepped around the desk and kept it between him and Damian. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t know who Jon Kent is! My name is Danny! Danny Fenton! And for once in my life, can you please send me back to school so I can take my English test?”

“I thought we would be friends in every universe.” Damian mumbled, “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Uh, quick idea, sending me home sounds fantastic.”

“The world needs you, Jon. I need you.” Damian frowned, “But if you won’t go willingly, I will force you.”

Loosing his temper, he spat: “I’m not Jon, you arrogant ass—“

He was cut off when he saw Damian pull a glowing green rock from his pocket. Instantly, Danny fell to his knees, dragging the desk down with him as he fell. He clutched his chest, making it feel like it was hard to breathe. He lost unconsciousness.

[diorchids]

teasing, luke castellan.

cw: smut, piv, masturbation, sadism (slightly??), fem!reader, swearing & more

from this ask (i never did it)

luke loves to piss you off. the way you pout or get all pissy about his teasing just makes him elated.

getting to comfort you with his fat cock in your sweet cunt, or it stuffed down your throat.

the cabins were empty while the bonfire at the lake had kept everyone entertained, but your thighs burned when you thought about luke.

after weeks, this was your chance to finally have alone time, rather than fucking deep in the woods.

he’d been touching you all day. rubbing the small of your back, massaging your thighs while you told him about whatever, he loved teasing.

“want you so bad, luke. nobody’s here, l-let’s just do it now,” you whined while he thumbed your puffy clit through your panties, “so fuckin’ good, luke, please.” you whimpered each time his thumb pressed onto your nub.

you were desperate. too much for his liking, though.

he sighed while your eyes ran over his face, “so needy. so, so needy. wan’ my cock, yeah?” he smiled lightly as his fingers curved while he palmed his cock through his jeans.

you nodded while biting your lips, trying not to cry as he moved slowly just to get you bothered.

your core tingled on and on until he finally pulled his cock out, tip dripping with pre-cum as you sat up with anticipation, “please, now, luke. stop bein’ so mean..” you whined pathetically, the wet patch on your panties making his pretty cock twitch.

you just wanted his fat cock, what’s so wrong with that?

you yanked off your wet panties with quickness.

“can't wait any longer?" with one swift motion, he pushed his cock inside you, filling you up completely. “oh, fuck." he groaned as he bottomed out, feeling you tighten around him.

his hand was planted on your stomach while his cock through up in your stomach, making him practically whimper at the sight, “shit—look, baby. stop cryin’, look at me.” his words made you clench his fat cock so perfectly, practically milking him.

you didn’t stop crying.

his other hand gripped either side of your cheeks, while your lips squished into the cutest little shape. he loved this look on you, kissing you harshly while his tongue roamed your whole mouth filthily.

“luke, keep goin’, s-so good. cock feels so good in my tummy, baby..” you tapered off because his cock dumbing you down completely.

he looked down, watching his cock disappear into your tight cunt. “fuck, you're so tight." he groaned.

your lips quivered with each thrust given to you, cervix almost being beaten up if he went any deeper.

“kiss? want me to kiss you, yeah?” you nodded dumbly while your cunt spat out juices to compensate for the overstretching.

your eyes rolled out salty tears that luke smeared all over your lips, making you taste what he was doing to you. your puffy lips looked so pretty.

your core tightened pathetically, clenching his cock perfectly.

he pulled out of you. your gaped cunt clenched around nothing when you moaned like a whore.

“luke? no, no, no, please, luke, needa cum!” you whined helplessly while he got up to put his jeans back on. he shook his head incessantly, carrying on with his dressing.

his cock was still obviously hard underneath his jeans, fat bulge making you whimper softly.

he tsked while you silently begged, “look at you—can’t live without my cock,” he teased you sadistically, watching you beg and get all pissy about him pulling out.

you followed him around camp with a stick up your ass, acting like a brat because you couldn’t get what you want.

he couldn’t help but laugh at you shouting at him and pushing him while you were dead serious.

your cunt still ached at the thought of him pounding it relentlessly, walls getting practically bruised from the constant abuse of them.

“it’s not fucking funny, luke. i’m serious!” you’d managed to grab his arm, he kept walking away and chuckling at the sight of you being this angry over him doing so small.

you were serious, though. very serious. you didn’t find anything funny, he ripped your orgasm from your fingertips after dangling it in your face like a carrot on a stick.

you jerked him off while he whimpered pathetically in your ear just half an hour later.

“f-fuck, feels so—good. love you so much, sooo good t’ me,” he bucked his hips up into your hand pitifully.

it wasn’t so funny when you let go of his cock, resulting in him begging you to make him cum for hours.

[studioghibelli]

the old man and the sea- a joel miller x reader fic

summary: grief is a sacred thing, a nasty thing, a sensual thing. it grips you from the inside until there's nothing left but a void of darkness- a void that can never be filled. joel miller knows this fact very well, and all he wants to do is save you.

warnings: girthed up age gap (college age!reader x 50’s age joel), i’m exploring a new type of writing ok let me COOK!!!! idk i am delusional, reader has hair that at least reaches her neck, cigarette use, this whole thing is basically an allegory for grief and growing but there also a lot of sexy smut soooo yeah. (mentions of death and two brief mentions of suicide, but nothing too detailed.) that being said, smut (f receiving oral sex, soft kissy missionary sex, unprotected piv sex, some 'dirty' talk, etc.)

note: this has NOT been proofread or edited. any mistakes are mine. i just hate going back and editing lmao. enjoy! xx

In the august days of your youth, when the rocky line of the coast line glimmered beneath the flame of the sun, when the foamy waves would pool by your sandy feet, you could remember the towering lighthouse just south of the beach, the way it stood tall and proud, like the statues of Roman soldiers you knew from your school encyclopedias. It was vibrant and alive, no more dead than the clams bubbling beneath the surface of the ocean, no more dead than the bellowing of the whales far off the shore.

You remember how it would speak to you, late at night when you would walk alone, hoping to catch the light reflecting off the tail of a pretty mermaid, hoping that the local legends of talking fish would come poke their heads above the water, speaking to you in riddles from days gone by.

You remember the words of the light which shone strong from above, circling above your head , like the passing lights of a traveling carnival, your eyes caught like a moth roaming towards the flames, lost in the eternal beauty of its golden light.

Come to me, child. Let the lighthouse unburden your pain.

But back then, when you were quick to scare despite your steadfast stubbornness, you never garnered enough courage to explore behind its walls.

Now college had passed, and you moved back home to your parent's rickety beach house, alone behind her comforting wooden exterior. This home. This home that was once so full of life. This home that held warm laughter and late night board games. This home that housed your closest friends and their secrets of crushes and undeciphered dreams. This home where you grew into a young woman full of life and beauty, clever and brilliant.

This home that was now empty.

You had got the call the week after finals.

We're so sorry, they went out fishing and a storm came. We never found them.

Oh, yes.

Adventure pumped through your veins, the taste for freedom like salty water on your tongue. You knew where you got it from, you always had. Your sweet family, your loving parents. Full of life like that lighthouse, full of of love like the sun.

Now they were nothing, and this house was nothing. Those years of laughter and secrets and adventure were nothing.

Nothing.

Your favorite word these days.

Going through belongings and shuffling through old books had taken almost a weeks worth of tears. Hot, tepid, angry tears.

How dare they leave you alone? How dare they forsake you like this?

The thought of crashing water and striking lightning was almost too much to bare.

When the storm had rolled in that morning, you had been tucked away in the alcove of your kitchen, nursing a steaming mug that was more cream than coffee. You watched the droplets of rain paint pictures on the window, you watched nature wring her tears across the fluttering branches of trees, cracking soft splashes across the pavement with each gust of air. Your chest felt heavy with thoughts of them.

Mom and dad.

Mamma and papa.

Perhaps it was in hopes you would feel some comfort, perhaps it was in hopes you would feel whole. If you could just stare out at the ocean that took them, maybe they would speak to you. Maybe those fairytale fish would poke their heads up from the water and exclaim to you how happy your parents were, how they were fitting right in, how they had invited Mrs. Dolphin over for tea last Saturday, and how they were finally warming up to the funny shark that always lurked in the seaweed.

You stood barefoot on the cragged rock, staring out at the roaring waves, with nothing but the lull of distant seagulls and the song of incoming thunder.

No fish. No parents. No Mrs. Dolphin. Just another season of storms and a crater in your heart.

Your throat was raw from all the screaming. You danced to your fight song as you let the rain take you, your clothes felt like skin from how soaked through they were. Heavy drapes of fabric that cemented you in place on that cragged rock. That cragged rock that dripped with the blood of your raw heels, your toes scraped and ruined from the sandy surface.

It was dark by the time the storm rolled out, dark by the time your back found the safety of the sand, dark by the time your hair clung to your neck and became tangled up with the seashells.

There was a glowing orb of light far off in the distance that you could just make out through the hazy fog of your eyelashes, and you realized it was growing closer, the old handle of a lantern creaking through the night.

"Hello?" The voice was rough and unknown to your ears, yet held a certain warmth despite the weariness.

"Yes?" You asked softly, refusing to open your eyes. If you opened your eyes, all of this was real, all of this was raw, all of this was right there.

"Are you.... okay?"

"Yes."

The lantern creaked once more, and you heard the shuffle of fabric as the man leaned forward, pressing his knuckles to your cheek. "You're colder than a reindeer's antlers, girl." His touch was warm, his hand a welcome solace from the rain. "You live around here?"

You didn't want to go back to that house. You didn't want to smell their detergent or see their old clothes. You didn't want to waltz through that kitchen or hear the creak of those old stairs.

Perhaps it was from the way your lip quivered, from the rain or from the cold, perhaps it was from the defeat in your voice, or the weightlessness of your soul, but the man before you knew he had to do something about it. How could he not? You were laying there like a pile of unfolded laundry, and no one else was around to fold it all.

You felt an arm slip behind your back.

"C'mon, stand up with me. On three."

You groaned softly, using a thick arm as leverage as the mystery man helped you stand off the ground. When you opened your eyes, you saw a pair of umber orbs staring at you, tracing over your face, every line, scar, freckle, dent, he was soaking you in like a sponge, as though he wanted to know your face just from memory.

"I'm Joel."

Joel.

He was handsome, that was the first thing you noticed about him. You felt your stomach churn at the feeling, angry you could find him so beautiful, despite the darkness which shrouded over you. Joel was broad and rugged, no doubt rough around the edges. He was adorned with various scars and random freckles, with thick eyebrows and broad shoulders, plush lips and kind eyes- hardened by time, no doubt, but beautiful all the same.

You know you mumbled your name out somewhere along the walk, eyes cloudy with tears. It was a miracle you managed to speak anything at all.

As you neared the lighthouse, you realized just how foreboding it truly was. Its paint was cracking, yet its foundation remained firm, and it towered up into the clouds like a Medieval castle. Behind it's white structure you saw a small cabin, warm light seeping through the misty windows, painting the green grass with splatters of sunshine.

When Joel opened the door, an old dog sitting in front of the fireplace lifted his head, the soft thump of a tail beating against the wooden floors. His fur was gray and his eyes were old, his long fur a mixture of brown, black, and white patches. Like a makeshift quilt.

Quilts. Your mother used to make those.

"That's Moby." Joel explained, setting a kettle on the old gas stove. "Sit down. You're trailing blood." You felt embarrassment creep up your neck, and he must have noticed the way your eyes darted with shame. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Let me fix up your cuts. I-.... I wasn't trying to be a dick." He spoke like this was his first time having human interaction in a decade, and by the way he moved, you might have been right.

He fumbled through drawers and cabinets, eventually finding a metal first aid kit that had begun resting at the edges years ago. Joel pulled up a dining room chair in front of you with a loud screech, peering up at you as he shuffled through the remnants of the kit.

"What were you doing out there?" He asked, gently grabbing your ankle. He guided it to his lap, inspecting the raw flesh of your soles.

"Exploring."

"Exploring what?"

"Myself."

You felt his shoulders jerk with a bit of a laugh. Normally, you would not have gone home with a stranger. Normally, you would not have let a random man place your legs on his lap or nurse you up.

But then again, nothing was normal anymore. Normal was home. Normal was family. Normal was homecooked meals and late night board games and sleepovers and secrets and.... well, none of this.

The hot stream of tears threatened the dam that rest just above your waterline. Joel noticed, but he didn't say anything.

His calloused thumb rested on the side of your foot, the sting of alcohol soaked pads causing you to wince.

"I know." He muttered through an unlit cigarette which dangled from his mouth, the lines of his forehead prominent with each movement he made. "There we go. Right one's done. Let me see the left."

You obeyed wordlessly, gently propping it up onto his thigh. He repeated his previous work until that foot was cleaned and patched.

Joel stared at you. The tea kettle behind him was whistling for attention, its top sputtering from the roaring boil of water.

"Earl gray or green?" He asked as he rummaged for two cups, blowing the dust off of one. You watched Joel stare at one of the cups for a beat too long.

"Earl gray." You croaked, blinking hard. You felt wetness by your hand. When you looked down, the black nose of a dog was pressing into your palm. Your fingers found his fur, rubbing that spot right behind his ear that made his back leg go crazy. Who couldn't smile at that?

Moby laid down, his fur a puddle at the base of your chair as he rested his snout atop your foot. You stared at him, welcoming the softness of his body against yours.

"Moby is a sweet dog. He's old. Rarely gets up from that bed." Joel explained, handing you a cup. The words World's Best Dad were fading at the sides. This cup must have been older than you.

"I like him." You let the liquid glide down your throat with each sip, savoring the warmth it provided you. At the first sign of a shiver, Joel had wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.

"Why are you being so kind to me? You don't even know me."

Joel sat back down across from you with a soft groan, the ache in his bones creaking like an old, rusting elevator shaft. "I do know you."

"Have we met before?" Your eyebrow raised with interest, and you looked at him wearily, trying to deduce what he was up to.

"No. But I know what grieving looks like." There was a long pause before Joel decided to speak again. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"What? No!" You guffawed, neck snapping up to shoot him a scowl. "Of course not."

"Look. If you walked up on a half dead, soaking wet person on the shore, during the aftermath of a storm, you'd be thinking the same thing." He defended himself sternly, setting his cup down.

There was a thick moment of quietness.

"Those were your parents, weren't they?" His voice was barely a whisper. It floated through the air like smoke off a candle, hitting you in the face.

"Yes."

"It was all over the news. Loads of us went out there, tried to find them."

"They're out there somewhere. Fish food." Your voice was bitter.

Joel didn't say anything. He just sat and stared. You stared back.

It became a ritual after that night. You were over there every evening, usually with a paper bag full of groceries and treats for Moby. You taught Joel how to make Paprikash and Japchae, you taught Moby how to fist bump with his nose (old dogs can learn new tricks), and you taught yourself how to laugh again.

Laughing. Such an odd thing to do in the aftermath of grief. Such a weird feeling to allow ones self to feel after weeks of chaos.

And Joel, he had his uses too.

Joel taught you how to do a fishtail braid, he taught you how to use a fly rod, and what the inside of a lighthouse looks like. Joel taught you how to smile again, he taught you what the feeling of freedom felt like once more.

Summer faded into autumn, and the orange and yellow trees began to paint the prettiest of pictures on the canvas of the coast. It held a certain nostalgia that summer had always failed to do for you, and the promise of apple cider and pumpkin scented candles floated through with every passing day.

It had taken some convincing, but Joel had swayed in to your demands, and you both sat at a tiny table in a tiny cafe, the steaming pumpkin latte swirling between his hands.

"So?"

He stared at it for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It's.... not half bad."

"Well, well, well. Looks like I was right. I knew you'd like it." You smiled through your victory, drinking your own iced coffee.

"I haven't been here in years." Joel explained, looking around at the decorations. Local art, framed photographs, and signed albums adorned the exposed brick walls, the glowing salt lamps on each table bathing the air with warm, orange light.

"You've been here before?" This coffee shop was old, you knew that much, but even when you were younger and frequented its counter with your high school friends, you can't remember ever seeing him here. And this was a small town- you knew you would have remembered his face, despite the wrinkles and grays. He still would have been Joel.

"Over two decades ago. Sarah loved this place."

"Sarah?"

His upper lip twitched at the sound of her name. Joel looked at you with heavy eyes, glossed over with the mark of grief. The kind of grief that settles in to your body as though it's its home, the kind of grief that sits beside you on the couch and never leaves. The kind of grief you were learning to grow beside.

"My daughter."

The air hung above your heads like a rainy cloud, thick and desultory. It fell across your shoulders like a fur coat, and you struggled to shake it all away.

"I didn't know that you..." Words were useless. They always were when it came to matters like this.

Joel drank his coffee in silence, tracing the ridges of the wooden table out with his eyes. "Don't like talking about her."

"We don't have to."

"Yes, we do." His voice was stern as he looked up at you, your gaze connecting. Joel's eyes were far away, searching for something in the recesses of his memory, or perhaps gaining the courage to speak to you.

"I've been alone for over twenty years." His voice was softer than you had ever remembered it being. "And then.... you were there. Just there. Laid out on the shore like a beached mermaid, shivering in the moonlight. I didn't know you... but I knew you. You were me in that moment. I had been you."

Your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line, and you watched as he spoke. There was a subtle shake to Joel's hands as he picked at his thumb nail, a tick you had picked up on the first week you had known him. The bouncing of his knee vibrated through the table.

"I know what grief is. I know the stain it leaves on someone's face. It was all over you.. just-just dripping."

You hadn't noticed the tears welling in your eyes.

Joel reached over, his palm engulfing your cold hand like a blanket, warming your skin up with his touch. He laced your fingers tight in to his own, cradling your palms close between his two hands.

"I know what all this does to a person. How it rots, how.... how it erodes. I knew I needed to help you."

"What's why you took me back to your house."

"Yes. That's why I bandaged you up, that why I made you tea, that's why I let you keep coming back. Because I wanted to help you, because I lov-"

"Are we doing okay over here?" A barista walked up with a smile, a tray in hand. "I'm just going to take these empty cups away! It's such a beautiful day outside."

You managed to shoot her a smile.

As she walked away, Joel continued staring at you, and there was a sense of something..... else in his eyes.

"Lets go back home? To- well, uh, to my home."

You nodded silently, letting go of his hands as you both walked out the door.

There was something unspoken between Joel and you, and it had settled between the two of you over the months. You knew that he knew, and Joel knew that you knew, yet it was never brought up, it was never allowed to spoken out loud. If it was spoken out loud, then it became real, and if it became real, then it would end up being a burden. Or a promise. Or a nightmare. Or a dream. Or a beautiful, welcoming, loving thing that lasted until the day you died.

How terrifying was that?

You don't know when you had started holding Joel's hand, but the walk back to the lighthouse was quiet and chilly.

Because I lo-

His words echoed through your skull with every single step you took along the cobbled path.

Lo, lo, lo, lo. Love? Loathe? Long? Look?

Your chest compressed against itself as your thoughts wandered. You must have been squeezing Joel's hand too hard, or your nails must have been digging into his skin too deeply, because he stopped and looked at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"I- um. Huh?"

"You're practically making me bleed with those nails of yours. Are you okay? Thinking about something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." You muttered sheepishly, gently recoiling your hand away. Joel stopped you, placing it back in the grasp of his own. "I just... what were you going to say to me?"

"Hmm? Say to you?"

"Back at the coffee shop?"

"Oh." Joel shuffled his weight between both of his feet, his eyes shifting to meet yours. His warm, gentle, dark eyes. Those honeyed orbs of warmth that you had grown to love so deeply. Love? Oh, yes. You were certain it was love.

What part of Joel Miller didn't you love? He had rescued you from much more than that shore on that fateful night. Fate. Hell of a thing, that.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut. It was like ripping off a band-aid. When he spoke, he opened them once more, allowing his words to drip off his tongue. They were soft, gentle, they swayed through the tresses of your hair like a breeze through a field of flowers.

"I love you."

And there it was.

Time must have stopped. Your ears rang with silence, the weight of the universe funneling and funneling, closer and closer to your head until there was nothing. No noise. No air. No nothing.

Joel stared at you with a blank expression on his face, as though he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"I shouldn't have... that was- I'm sorry."

You took a step towards him, his hand was still wrapped around your own. You felt the subtle sheen of sweat on his palm, you tasted the tang of metal on your tongue from biting your cheek too hard, too deep, too long.

You knew it as sure as the sun rose in the east, you knew it with every vein in your body, with every hair on your head. You loved him, too.

Oh you did, didn't you? What a fool you were for him. If he told you to jump, you would jump. If he told you to run away with him, you would ask where. Joel Miller had bewitched you, every ounce of you, and you couldn't bare the thought of leaving him, or forgetting him, or even worse- never meeting him.

Some brave rush of courage overtook you, and before you could think you had grabbed his face in your hands and pressed your mouth into his own, nearly knocking him off his feet with the force of your movement. Joel's hands instinctively grabbed your waist, and his back found the support of a stop sign. The tips of his fingers gently dug into your waist, and he held you close and tight to his chest. You could feel the beating of his heart against his torso, pumping and pumping and pumping its vibrations into your own chest, ricocheting through your body as you tasted him on your tongue.

You pulled away only when your cheeks ached, burying your face in to his chest, allowing the smell of Joel to overcome you. He always smelled like the sea air and cotton, sweet and nostalgic against your nose.

"Lets get home." He whispered in your ear.

Home. He hadn't corrected himself. Home.

Joel's fingers refused to leave yours, locked tight as you made it to his house. Moby greeted you with a kiss to the knee, waddling back to his bed with a heavy huff of air. You gave him the bone you always picked up for him on the way there, before turning around to see Joel in the kitchen, a cigarette in his mouth.

"Want one?" He asked as he brought the lighter to his mouth. You walked towards him, nodding. He took the item out of his mouth, before placing it between your own two lips.

Joel watched the way you took the cigarette, the way your glossy lips looked against the white sheen of paper.

"You're so damn beautiful. God, I just..." Joel shook his head as he kept his thoughts to himself, lighting another smoke before tossing the half empty pack on to the table.

"You just what?" Your voice echoed through the bellow of smoke, and you leaned against the counter, challenging him with your words.

"I just... got so many things I want to do to you."

You smiled, alluring eyes beaming up at him as you puffed and exhaled, slowly putting out the embers on the clay ashtray you had bought him months ago. "Like what?" Your words were teasing.

Joel watched you step towards him, and his chest rose and fell underneath the unlit kitchen light. He took in a deep breath of tobacco before flicking it in to the metal sink.

He'd deal with that later.

"How 'bout I just show you, baby?"

Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded.

Joel had never moved so fast in his life, whisking you off to his room with a loud bang of his door. He had you nearly naked and on his bed in record time, his knee resting between your legs as he kissed you, the hair of his moustache tickling your nose.

He allowed you to grind yourself down on his leg, soft moans flooding in to his mouth as his tongue explored your own, tangling and dancing with one another as his fingers worked the back of your bra. Joel threw the material across the room, your breasts pressing in to his chest, nipples hard and tantalizing.

That was the first time Joel had pulled away. He left a trail of wet kisses down to your nipples, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud. You watched him suckle at your flesh, shivers causing the hair on your arms to stand up. His curls became tangled with your fingers, a leg resting on his shoulder as he adjusted himself, sucking and licking at your tits as though he were starved.

Your sweet melody of arousal was like music to Joel, who finally gathered the strength to pull away from your chest and move down between your legs, his mouth planting a flurry of pecks to your stomach. He hooked your panties in his fingers and tugged them off, large hands resting on your thigh as he spread them.

Joel stared at your pussy, now open and bare for his eyes. It glistened with arousal, the soft pink of your flesh causing his mouth to water.

"Jesus." He breathed out slowly, eyes darting up to your gaze. "You were made just for me, weren't you?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. You were. Oh, God, you were!

His free hand snaked up to yours, and you held it tightly, nervously. His hand was your anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor of his bedroom.

Joel leaned forward, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. You whimpered out once. He sucked it in between his lips. You whimpered out twice. He worked your aching bud until you were singing a song composed just for him, pants of hot, heavy air swirling through the four walls of his room.

He was devouring you. You were his Eucharist and your pussy was his prayer. Joel worked you in ways you had never been worked before, licking and sucking your pussy with the fervor that could only ever be found in a religion. You were his religion. His idol. His worship. His solace.

Oh, solace. What a sweet, sweet thing when it was found in you.

Joel's chin was quickly soaked in your sweet wetness. He would have drowned in you if you had let him.

His tongue pushed deep in to your folds, exploring your most precious pf places, tasting every inch of you like a starved man, like a frenzied man, like a mad man.

You were his. He was yours.

Your hips were bucking, your body like a wild animal caught in a trap. Except you weren't in a trap. You were in his arms. His strong, thick, heavy arms, and ecstasy was overtaking you. His tongue was coaxing you towards an explosive orgasm, the likes of which had never been known to you. Not one so intense. Not one at the hands of a man who loved you.

Joel's grip tightened around your own, his lips sucking at your clit, tongue tapping and swirling, licking and lapping.

You could barely get any warning out before your orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking with earthquakes of pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, holding his head tight in place. Joel licked you through the height of your euphoria, sucking softly at your bud before you could barely take it anymore, before you had to gently push his head away.

"Joel." You whispered, staring at the ceiling as the white hot heat of your climax rushed over you. "Joel." You spoke it like a mantra. His name was a promise to you.

"Baby?" He climbed over you, weight supported by his elbows, and allowed the tip of his nose to gently brush over yours.

"Take me." You whispered, the palms of your hand moving to his cheeks. They were warm, and you could smell your pussy on his facial hair. You leaned forwards, kissing him, tasting your cum and his spit. A moan tumbled out of your mouth, straight through your teeth.

"Make me yours. Fuck me." You begged, although Joel didn't need any begging.

"Anything for you."

His boxers were off in the blink of an eye, and you glanced down at his cock. Tanned, slightly curved, hanging low and heavy, the mushroom tip gleaming with pre-cum. Your mouth was watering at the site, but his grasp on your chin moved your line of sight to his face.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and a soft gasp escaped you at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. He grinded against you, his shaft rubbing up and down the folds of your pussy, jolts of electricity causing you to shiver each time he brushed your clit.

Joel was teasing you. He was making you in to a mess. A mess all for him.

His eyes never left yours. Joel watched you lovingly, noses pressed tight, lips brushing past the others. You were as close as two people could possibly be, and you were unsure where his skin ended and yours began. Stray curls of his hair tickled your forehead, and your chests rose and fell in unison.

"I love you." His breath was hot against your face.

"I love you too-" He pushed his length in as you spoke, stretching out the lips of your pussy, hitting deeper than anything had before. You moaned out a wanton noise you had never heard before, nails gently digging in to his shoulders.

Joel sat there for a moment, heavy eyelids half closed. He was soaking you in, literally, allowing himself to relish in the feeling of being inside of you. Of being one with you.

He had not afforded himself many of life's pleasures. Not after Sarah had died. Not after he had let himself go. He had paced the same shore as you many moons ago, gun in hand, trying to urge himself to just put the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. It sounded so easy.

But something had stopped him. Something hadn't let him.

He had wondered, many years after that, why he hadn't done it. He had wondered what could possibly be worth living.

And then he saw you.

In that very same spot, rotting beneath the silver light of the moon.

It was you. Everything had been for you, hadn't it?

And now there you were, beneath him, as pretty as a picture, the embodiment of everything he had ever yearned for, everything he had ever dreamed for. You were everything to Joel, and he was everything to you.

And now there he was, deep inside of you. You were all he could feel, all he could smell, all he could see. You, you, you. The most beautiful thing he had ever saw, the most wonderful thing he could have ever waited for.

The shiver of your body brought him back down to reality. He kissed you deeply, and all you could do was smile against his mouth.

Lucky. That is what you were. That is what you both were.

"You feel so good." You whispered softly, hands gently running down the back of his head, finding a resting spot on the broad stretch of his freckled back.

Joel rubbed his cheek against yours, slowly moving his hips, grinding down against you, eliciting a sweet moan out of you. "Yeah?"

You both giggled in unison, and he watched your eyes shut as he began to pump deep inside of you. The feeling of your nails pinched at his skin.

Joel glanced down, watching his cock disappear into the depths of your cunt, sloppy noises of your arousal filling the air. Your pussy lips looked so pretty wrapped around his length, your wetness looked so pretty glistening off his cock.

You were made for him, and he for you.

"Take me, Joel." You begged, and his movement increased, growing slightly rougher as his forehead met yours, lips pressing together once more.

"God, you're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. So fucking pretty. You feel so fucking good. This pussy.... fuck. Fuck, I never want to leave it." He was rambling through his thrusts, hand reaching down to rub at your swelling clit.

"Fuck me, Joel. Fuck me." You whined out, bucking up against the touch of his fingers as he fucked you harder in to the mattress.

"You're my girl. You're my beautiful fucking girl. God, you're everything to me. You're my world." His breath was hot against your face as he kissed you, coaxing you towards another orgasm with each rub of his middle finger across your clit.

"That's a good girl. I can feel you getting closer. I can feel that pussy tightening against me."

Your back arched off the mattress as you cried out his name, moaning as his praises filled your ears. Joel rested his face in the crook of your neck, hips slapping in to your thighs as he filled you up with every inch of his length.

"That's my girl, that's it, baby. Cum for me."

You did as he said. There was no use in holding back. As your orgasm rushed through, his own was approaching. Your name tumbled off his lips, the only word he could remember, as he came deep inside your walls. His hot cum filled you to the brim with a warmth you had never experienced, and Joel kept slowly pumping as his high rushed off, as his orgasm died down.

You shivered beneath him, another kiss being planted on your mouth. Then you cheeks. Then your nose. Then anywhere else Joel could get to.

A moan tumbled off Joel's tongue as he slowly slipped out of you, falling beside you before grabbing you and pressing you in to his chest.

"Stay with me."

"I always do." You whispered in to his chest.

"No, stay with me. Permanently. This can be our home."

"Our home." You whispered quietly, nuzzling closer into his body.

"Our home." He established firmly, resting his palm on the crown of your head.

The world would always spin, and sorrow would always lurk. That was how the world worked. That was the way of the universe. When you both awoke in the morning, the pain of yesteryears would still be there. The horrible, nasty tug of old memories and distant lives would always be somewhere deep within you.

The cosmos, however, were full of possibilities. You could have stayed in your parents home and succumb to a darkness greater than yourself. Joel could have drank himself to death or tasted the metal of a bullet. Those waves could have taken you, and he could have never decided to take a walk down to that beach.

There were many what if's.

But right now you were alive with passion, eyes wide and awake with a newfound love. The bitterness had gone, and something much brighter and better was waiting for you in the future.

Beside you, Joel Miller sat puffing on a cigarette, smiling at you through dreamy eyes. The sheen of sweat was still glistening across his chest, and the gentle smirk on his lips reflected the tales of a lovesick fool.

"Ready to go again?" He asked cheekily, handing you the smoke.

You took it with a smile.

For now, grief would have to wait.

[joeybsversion]

Girl Dad

Joe Burrow x Reader

Joe takes his daughter to practice

9 days after entering the world, your daughter made her first Bengals practice debut. Since then, she’s spent most of her Sundays there as well. That is truly a right that comes with being the quarterbacks daughter.

Joe was the best dad. Even before she was born her catered to your every need. He continues to jump at her every whim.

“You ready to go, baby girl?” He asks, pulling into the facility parking lot. You had to travel for a work emergency with no notice, leaving Joe in charge for the day. “C’mon.” He pulls her from the car and slung the diaper bag over his shoulder, heading inside.

The sound of loud conversation and even louder music can be heard from the locker room as Joe makes his way down the hallway. Appearing around the corner with the small baby in his arms, everyone gasps. The locker room turned into a silent dead zone.

Usually there’s a strict no girls allowed rule in the locker room, but today the team would make an exception.

“Mama had to leave town, so we’re adding another player to the roster for the day.” Joe jokes with the team.

It was the day after a game so there wouldn’t be much practicing going on. Just watching film, talking about the upcoming game, and going over plays.

“Hi sweetie.” Ja’Marr takes the baby from Joes arms, giving him a chance to tuck the diaper bag into his locker and slip out of his coat.

“She loves her uncle Ja’Marr.” Joe admires his friends playfulness with his daughter.

“But she loves her Uncle Sam more!” Sam interrupted the conversation, taking your daughters tiny hand into his big one and cooing at her.

The guys filtered into the film room, finding a spot to take a seat so they could start the days meetings.

Your daughter was mostly content sitting on Joes lap. He bounced her on his knee and intently watched the screen in front of him. Almost as if she knew what was coming, she let out a loud shriek just as the team rewatched a play of Joe taking a hard hit.

“That’s what I’m saying too.” Joe laughs in response before quickly excusing himself from the room.

The training room was empty with the exception of two. Joe cradled his daughter in his arms, lightly bouncing her as he fed her a bottle. “This is where daddy works out.” He gives her a tour of the room. “So he can stay strong and healthy and take care of you for a long, long time.” He admires the tiny girl in his arms.

Soon enough, she’s drifted off to sleep in his arms. The bottle replaced with a binky which is bouncing up and down as she sucks on it in her sleep and a pink blanket wrapped around her.

Joe makes his way back into the room with the rest of the team. He presses a finger to his lips, motioning for the rest of the team to be quiet.

In that moment, he feels like a true winner, cradling his most prized possession, the best trophy ever, in his arms.