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wheresarizona · 22 days

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but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist - One Shot

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?��

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist - One Shot

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #wheresarizona writes #joel miller x you #Joel miller/yo

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hirsheyskisses · 7 months

Text

When You're Sober.

RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)

Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..

A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣

"..are you going to stay this time?"

Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.

"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.

"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"

It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"

Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.

It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.

As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..

..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.

What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.

"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"

"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."

He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."

He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.

Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,

"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"

He never did.

Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.

"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"

Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.

"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.

"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."

You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"

"No. I'm not."

He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.

"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"

Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.

"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."

His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.

"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..

You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."

"...yea?"

"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."

Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.

He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.

I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.

"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"

Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"

"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.

"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."

You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.

As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,

"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.

"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.

"..zoro?-"

"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."

"Marry me."

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.

He..

"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."

The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.

"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.

"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,

"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."

#one piece roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #straw hats x reader

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literaila · 3 months

Text

one in the morning

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

warnings: slight angst, awkward child rearing, a bit of arguing, and pining (of course), slightly ooc gojo

a/n: because i am a sucker for little megumi

year zero. year one.

it's not that you're not expecting the call. except that you're not.

like not even a little bit. an asteroid coming down and destroying only you and your apartment building is slightly more likely than satoru gojo calling you in the middle of the night, like he hasn't done in the last six months.

the last year, really.

a year ago you would've known who it was immediately and probably would've cursed satoru out for calling you at three in the morning to see if you wanted to go get ice cream with him (and then you would've gotten up and put on your shoes to find him outside of your room, already grinning).

but now you have to check the caller id.

you blink around in the dark--struggling through the dregs of dream you're still waking through--and sigh.

unfortunately, you've never had quite enough willpower to ignore this phone call. shoko has called you an idiot many times--too many times, actually--telling you that satoru's attention-seeking habits are not your responsibility. not that she's had to say that in a while, though... and it's not like you're going to sneak out in the middle of the night with him anymore--you can't sneak out. you have your own house. there’s no yaga to look down on you disapprovingly here.

and he hasn't called you in six months. you haven't even heard about him beyond some irritated remarks from yaga, and shoko's knowing glances when you try to nonchalantly bring him up.

and still.

it takes you a moment to pick up the phone, your thumb hitting the answer button before your mind can stop you.

"satoru?" you whisper, listening to the breathing on the other end.

there's some muffled moving around, and then a breath, and then someone in the background speaking, and then--

"i need your help." his voice is quiet like he doesn't want anyone to hear what he's saying.

what time is it? have you ever heard satoru say those words before?

your first thought is that he's on another mission. that there's a cursed spirit and he needs some assistance. but when has satoru gojo asked anyone for help with a cursed spirit? when has he ever needed it? suguru was typically there to keep him from--

you pause, sitting up in bed. this might be a nightmare, but usually, you're more accustomed to them. "where are you?" you ask him, speaking in the same soft voice.

you expect him to name off some city, some house, some country that you couldn't possibly get to. you expect him to crack a joke, say something to you about being lost without him, or laugh at how serious your voice sounds. but he only murmurs, "at your door."

like it isn't a completely crazy thing to say. how does he even know where you live?

"it's one in the morning," you say, frowning. some small part of you wants him to actually be there, expecting a knock to come from the void of your hallway. and the other, much bigger part, thank you, wants him to be joking.

"i know," he sighs, and the receiver is muffled again, and then, "can you open it?"

"what's going on?"

"please," he repeats. there's no joke to this. this is not satoru asking you if you want to go get donuts at six in the morning, or milkshakes at midnight. "i'll explain. i just need your help."

you bite back some remark about how he hasn't needed your help for the past year. about how he hasn't called, hasn't texted, and hasn't even asked about you since--

but you stand up, trying to untangle a knot in your hair. you hang up on him without answering. your heart gets a bit of satisfaction from that.

and go to your door, giving yourself two seconds to prepare for the real-life satoru in front of your face. blue-everything eyes, you think, wall white hair, and a stupid smile.

but when you open it, your eyes drift to his (sort of) like they're already sure of where exactly he might be, it isn't just him.

there's a little boy--as tall as satoru's waist, with dark hair and furrowed brows to match--standing in front of another little girl--the same dark hair, but blank face--glaring up at satoru like he's kidnapped both of them.

your eyes widen as you realize that he probably has.

"this is basically every kid's dream," he's telling this boy, his playful voice like they’ve known each other for years. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?"

"why aren't you?" this boy retorts, and his voice is hard. unreasonably sarcastic for such a small person. it might make you giggle, the obvious tension between the two of them, if you weren't so worried about these kids' poor parents, freaking out at their disappearance.

the little girl is the first to notice you there, and she waves, her face much softer, much more exhausted than the boys in front of her. but she doesn't look frightened; not concerned with wherever this strange man has taken the two of them.

and satoru looks up at the motion, his mouth turning as he looks at you.

the little boy frowns, but his eyes settle. there's a brief moment where he watches you and you think that he's about to start begging for your help, but then it's gone. and his eyes trail back to satoru, still angry.

you blink, swallowing at the three of them. this is not ice cream.

"satoru," you get out, eventually. "where did you get these kids?"

"okay," you set a glass of water on the coffee table, trying to put on a normal smile. your hands are shaking, so you tuck them under your sleeves. "i'm sorry i don't have a lot of extra blankets, but if you get cold i'll go look through some boxes and see what i can find."

it's been ten minutes with them inside your apartment, and you already feel like you're doing something wrong. satoru, obviously, just briefly introduced the two of them to you, before you grabbed his arm and dragged him--along with the kids that trailed behind--into your apartment.

you'd hissed at him about how it was cold, and one in the morning, and they needed to be asleep. he only smiled and asked how you were.

so now they're cuddled up on your couch, with your only spare blanket, both of them with dreary eyes. you're trying not to look too closely--to check if they've been crying, or if they're harmed in any sort of way.

the little boy--megumi--nods and tsumiki smiles at you.

how four little eyes can look so appreciative, you're not sure.

satoru is leaning against the wall behind you, watching you move around these children like it's normal, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him.

"is there anything else you need?" you ask them, trying to be softer than you are. you should’ve taken that babysitting job when you were twelve; you’re completely out of your depth here.

megumi shakes his head.

"no, we're good," tsumiki says.

and you seriously want to get them to a hospital. where did they come from? why does satoru have them? is he insane? are they insane? have you just dreamt this all up?

"okay, satoru and i are just going to go talk in the kitchen for a bit. come get me if you need anything." and you smile again, taking a couple of hesitant steps as they both look away from you to the show that tsumiki put on when you handed her the remote.

at least they're not outside anymore.

you drag satoru into the kitchen, thinking about knocking the wind right out of him. he's always been particularly punchable, but right now he's even more so.

and he's smiling adoringly at you.

“satoru," you grind out, trying to keep your voice down. he leans against your countertop, crossing his legs.

and he hums inquisitively. “you know, i don’t think megumi likes me very much.”

“satoru.”

“not sure…" he scratches his head, white hair falling over his sunglasses. "i mean he’s kind of a weird kid but still. i took them to the store to pick out anything they wanted and neither of them got anything. even when i showed them the different cakes they had in the bakery. there were matcha rolls today, too. do you think they’re robots or something?”

“satoru. where did you get those children?” your voice is a step away from furious.

why is he here right now? why does he just barge into your life at unprecedented moments, acting like nothing has changed between the two of you?

acting like you haven't missed the sound of his voice or the way he speaks with his hands, or how he's standing right next to you, warmth radiating off of him like a toxin.

“is that important right now?” he asks. “we’re talking about their spending habits.”

“i’m talking about you. tell me that you didn’t steal them from the park and that i’m not obligated to report you.”

“are you serious?" he shakes his head at you, his voice still teasing, calm as ever. "you think i’d just take some random kids home with me?”

“i don’t know!" you tell him, finally breaking--your voice is raised, and you almost don't notice. "i don’t even know how you got here, or where you’ve been in the past six months, or whose children those are because they are certainly not yours.”

he pouts. “you don’t think they look like me?”

“you’re too pale.”

“that’s rude, you—“

“whose kids are they? now, satoru.”

you hope your face looks intimidating, but honestly, your demand is more like a suggestion when it comes to satoru. he can listen or he can leave.

you don't know which one you want more.

there’s a beat of silence where he rubs his foot on the ground, messing up your tiled floors probably. and then he sighs, relenting. “…toji zenin’s.”

he could’ve said anything else and you wouldn’t even care. oh, he found those kids abandoned in a warehouse on a mission? cool. oh, he found some long-lost cousins? great. if it were anything else, you would've waved him off and told him that he needed to get them new clothes, or something.

but this?

“what?!”

“shh. you’re the one who said they need to sleep," he tries to look around the corner of your hallway, even though you both know he doesn't need to.

you’re gawking at him, but, really, can it be helped?

“toji zenin?!”

“well technically fushiguro according to the records i dug up. but zenin nonetheless...”

“you stole his kids?!”

“i didn’t steal—“

“he tries to kill you so you kill him instead and take his children hostage?!”

this would be a wonderful moment to wake up.

satoru waves this statement off, frowning. “you’re really brushing over the ‘tried to kill me’ part. what? you don’t care about me?”

“why do you have them, satoru? what are you planning to do? torture them for information?" your eyes are wide and your heart is panicked. "they’re kids—“

he scowls. “of course not.”

“then what? tell me everything, starting from when toji tried to kill you.”

“why do you automatically think i did something?" he complains. "it’s not like i asked zenin to kill me first. i didn’t bait him into slicing my throat open.”

“because you always start the problems.”

“not true. sometimes i solve them, and sometimes i—“

“how did you find out about them?”

he sighs. “he told me about megumi, before he, ya know,” and then he makes a motion across his neck. and a terrible noise that supposedly indicates death.

you don't even mock him for it “why?” you ask.

“megumi might inherit the zenin technique. he’s worth a lot to the zenin clan, and i guess that toji made a deal with them.”

“you guess?”

“well, it’s not like i had a whole lot of time between the resurrection and murdering thing to ask him. i didn’t invite the guy out for tea so he could tell me about his pride and joy," his voice is riddled with sarcasm, so you can't decide if he's joking or not.

he is the most infuriating person you've ever met.

“so what? he asked you to keep megumi away from them?”

“no, he didn’t seem the sentimental type. maybe he told me cause he didn’t want megumi to grow up there, or maybe he told me so i could claim the prize money for myself.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t matter.”

you glare at him. “oh, it doesn’t?”

“no. i asked megumi what he wanted and this was it. he doesn’t want to live there and leave tsumiki behind, or have her live in that misogynistic shithole.”

“how old is he?”

satoru almost winces. "uh, six?”

“you don’t even know how old he is?” you close your eyes, shaking your head.

“he’s in first grade! we haven’t gone through all of the basics yet.”

“and tsumiki?”

“…nine.”

“satoru.”

“i’ll figure it out. megumi acts like he’s fifty years old anyway, so what do i care?”

you can practically see him rolling his eyes.

“what do you care?" you repeat, mocking. "you just told me that megumi made this decision for himself. he's a kid. he probably doesn’t understand—“

“he understands that if he goes to the zenin clan his sister will suffer in whatever way they deem fit. i mean, you know what it’s like for girls there—especially without any cursed energy.”

“you cant just make this decision for them on a whim, satoru. have you thought any of it through? where are they going to stay? who’s going to watch them when you’re sent away? where are they going to go to school? what if megumi does inherit his cursed technique?”

“all of that doesn’t matter. i'll figure it out," he waves off the topic of their lives like it's a mere suggestion, "what matters is that i keep those kids from being subjected to a life of servitude and competition. that they get to be kids while they can.”

you swallow. is there a way not to be frightened by this? “i know—i know where you’re coming from," you give him a weak smile, trying not to yell, or fight, or question this so much that satoru shuts down. "it’s nice of you to be… worried about them. but this isn’t like taking in a lost kitten, satoru. these are children.”

“do you really feel the need to point that out?”

“yes. what do you know about kids?”

he smiles, wide. “nothing!” he exclaims. “that’s why i came here. and you’re already doing a great job.”

you frown. “what do i know about kids?”

“well, you like them, don’t you?”

“what?”

“when we went to that daycare center during second year you played with all of the kids. you like them," he nods as if affirming it himself.

you went to a daycare with satoru once to take care of a grade three curse and apparently, it's led him to insanity.

“you’re comparing my hide-and-seek skills to taking care of those two kids on my own?"

“i mean, i’ll be here too...”

“taking care of three children on my own?” you correct.

satoru pouts.

you think about what suguru told you after riko amanai died; about satoru and the shift within him. some sort of manic strength he hasn't uttered a word about since.

but you continue, swallowing. "what's this really about?" you ask, softly, trying not to be mad, or worried, or concerned about why he came here to you. "it's not like you to... take responsibility for something you're not responsible for."

his pout turns into a frown. you can see his brows furrow. "you don't think i'm capable of helping people?"

"i know you're capable. but why? why now? i mean, it's been a year since toji died, and you're just getting them now? you suddenly remembered what he said to you?"

"i had to figure out the logistics of toji's deal."

"okay," you shake your head, "but still. why not have a family take them in? find someone who can give them a relatively normal life before they're pushed into all of this?"

satoru's face is blank. "no. what happens when megumi is eight and his new 'parents' put him in a hospital because he's seeing things that they can't?"

for the first time since he's walked through your front door, he sounds almost serious.

"i--"

"what happens when they're afraid of him because he draws in cursed energy? when his 'family' rejects him like yours did? like suguru's did?"

"satoru."

"honestly, do you think that's any better?" he gestures to your living room, to the kids he's proclaimed responsibility for. "if he does inherit his technique then the zenin clan will go looking for him anyway, and he won't be able to protect himself because there was no one to teach him how. no matter where he goes he's going to be ripped away from tsumiki, who seems to be the only thing he actually cares about. he didn't even want to know--"

"is this about suguru?" you ask him, the words falling before you can catch them.

satoru stills. you can see every one of his muscles tense. preparing for a fight. "what?"

"are you trying to... make up for his decisions? do you feel guilty? is megumi supposed to replace him?"

"replace him?"

"i know you think that you can take care of everything on your own, satoru, but you can't. it's not your fault that toji died. and it's not your fault that suguru left--"

"it is my fault." he says, so softly the words are almost caught before they can reach you. "it is."

you shake your head. you should've had this conversation months ago. a year ago, before any of this could happen.

"c'mon, y/n," he continues, no laughter, no smile, no swagger. "i saw what was happening. everyone did. but i was his best friend. i was supposed to be there for him."

"suguru didn't want you there. he didn't want you to be a part of it."

"well i could've stopped him. even if i couldn't save suguru--" his voice cracks on his name. "i could've saved everyone else. but i didn't."

"that's... that's a ridiculous suggestion. how are you supposed to kill your best friend? why should you have to save everyone? why would you even--"

"megumi isn't some replacement. he's a little boy, and if i'm not there for him then he's going to be stuck with his family. just like i was. he's going to be used for his cursed energy and who knows how he'll turn out? if he'll kill people recklessly like toji, or die trying to do the right thing?"

you're silent.

"i'm the only one who can protect him from this," satoru says, and you realize that he's been thinking about this for the past year. that every second since he almost died, this has been on his mind. "they're not going to touch him if i make it clear that i won't let them. i won't--i'm not going to let him become someone he doesn't want to be."

you sigh. "satoru..."

his body moves at your voice and he smiles again, shaking off whatever anger you drew out. it's almost a complete shift in who you're talking to. like the stakes no longer matter to him; these kids are just another obstacle to face, a power to control.

like he's remembered the role he's supposed to play.

"besides, someone's going to need to take over for me eventually. i might as well train him myself."

you cant see his eyes, and that’s probably good. you wish someone else were here to take your side, explain to satoru that he’s just a kid himself. that he shouldn't have to take care of everything on his own.

because when it’s just you, he always has the upper hand. he always gets his way.

"okay," you say, eventually, after you realize that you'll never win this fight. that you don’t want to fight with him at all.

"okay?" he repeats. "so you'll help me?"

"help you?"

"yeah. why do you think i brought them over here?"

you pause. "you want me... to what? raise them?"

"with me, yes."

"are you kidding?"

"no. you're probably the only person i trust to help."

the words do something almost indescribable to your body. the person you were a year ago would've cried out in relief, would've clung to him like glue to paper.

but you frown instead. "seriously?"

"you've already taken care of them better than i could. look." he drags you around the corner to where tsumiki has her head on megumi's, both of them snoring softly, folded into the blanket you gave them.

the tv flickers in the background, bothering neither of them. how they've managed to fall asleep with all of the yelling that's been going on, you don't know.

"see? they already feel safe around you."

"they're exhausted," you correct, but feel yourself soften at the sight of them. they are kinda cute without the scowl or concern plaguing their faces.

"we're going to be great parents," satoru coos, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

you push him away. "we are not their parents. we are... permanent babysitters. nannies."

satoru fixes you with an amused look. "okay."

"and you still owe me an explanation. i want a complete narrative about what you've been doing for the past six months. and how you found the two of them."

"okay," he steps closer to you again like you won't notice.

"and--" you don't have anything else. it's one in the morning. how clear is your mind supposed to be? "and you're paying for anything they need."

"uh huh."

eventually, you sigh. it's a surprise that you've lasted this long. "fine. i'll help you. but only because they'd probably die if they spent more than twenty-four consecutive hours with you."

satoru doesn't say anything--not to whine or roll his eyes--and it's a small acknowledgment, a thank you he doesn't have to say out loud. he'll take this win, at least.

the two of you watch them, relaxing into the wall.

after a minute satoru whispers. "by the way..."

"what?"

"i didn't tell megumi that i killed toji."

you turn to him. your eye might as well start twitching.

"what? he said he didn't want to know--"

you're sneaking into the kitchen when you notice him sitting at the table. his hands are crossed in front of him, his eyes focused on a stain you haven't been able to get off of the wood.

he's very small, you realize, watching him. his hair is messier than it was the night before, sticking to his head like he slept slumped against it.

he's not doing anything, really. just sitting there. you can see his legs swinging in the air.

and before you can prepare for what to say to this little boy who you're probably going to be spending a lot of time with, your mouth is open. "hey," you say to him, just whispering.

tsumiki must be sleeping.

megumi looks up, quickly, like he wasn't expecting you to be there. his eyes are wide like he's been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. but then he slumps down again and gives you a brief nod in acknowledgment. then looks back down, because the table is very interesting.

you wonder how many mornings he's woken up alone, with no one to tuck him back in.

"can't sleep?" you ask him, standing across from him and leaning against the table.

"this is when i usually wake up," you recall his voice the night before when satoru was teasing him, rougher than a boy's should be. but it's soft now, quiet.

it's probably seven if the clock on your bedside table is to be believed.

"you were up pretty late, though."

he almost rolls his eyes, remembering the events of the night before.

and you can tell that he doesn't really want to talk to you. he doesn't know anything about you, or what you want with him. why should he trust you?

you clear your throat. "how old are you?"

he looks up again. "six. why?"

"satoru wasn't sure."

this time, megumi actually rolls his eyes. you're familiar with this sort of annoyance directed at satoru, so you smile, just a little bit. at least there's something you can relate to.

"and tsumiki?"

"seven."

you nod, stepping away.

what do you say to a boy who has been dragged into your home by a maniac?

you sigh, clearing your throat again. "are you hungry?"

megumi's eyes narrow. there's a brief second between the two of you, where some sort of understanding passes through his eyes. who was the last person to make him breakfast?

and then he nods, slowly.

you smile. "okay. c'mon, let's see if i have anything you like."

next part.

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angelltheninth · 5 months

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Arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means being under constant surveillance. You'll always be guarded and well taken take of, you'll not need for anything that he can't be provided for you by him. You can ask for anything you want and he'll give it to you to keep you happy.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means he will take time off his duties in an effort to build a connection with you. Neither of you really wanted this but you need to know enough about each other to keep up public appearances. This includes getting comfortable with kissing and casual touches.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means getting the prettiest gifts, often in public. Again it starts just for show but you can see the gifts getting more personal to you, which means he's paying attention to you a lot more. You begin to accept them with a kiss not just a polite smile.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means going on vacations with him where you can spend one on one time with each other. You notice that unlike the first few vacations there's only one bed now. Not only that but he makes an active effort to be as polite to you as possible and asking you to share the bed with him.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means getting kisses on your hand every morning, but not only in public anymore. His kisses and eyes are no longer cold and calculated but much more clumsy and casual. Now when he tells you he loves you it actually sounds like he means it.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means your first wedding night is very awkward. It doesn't last long either, more like both of you just wanted to get to your orgasms and get it over with. There wasn't any kisses or cuddles after, just pure fucking, release and then you didn't speak of it again until you needed release again.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means using each other for stress release for a long time rather then making love. He'll show up late and without a word pick you up and carry you to bed. His cock needs just a few strokes to get hard, he needs you but he can't let himself say it, he wants you to moan his name but he can't say it yet.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means there will be a lot of cockwarming. Both of you can get too tired to full on fucking so when you're more comfortable with each other you can easily fall asleep with his semi- hard or even with a full hard on in your pussy massaging him.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means he'll get more passionate with his love making the harder he falls in love with you. Your sessions go from over with as soon as possible from lasting hours. With so many orgasms that him just touching your clit while his cock is inside you is enough to make you come.

Being in an arranged marriage with Coriolanus Snow means you'll need to make a baby sooner or later. He won't pressure you but he will let his wants for it show while having sex with you. There are many times when you hear him mumble about his cum staying inside you, how pretty he thinks you'll look with a pregnant belly, how well he would take care of you, how he hopes your kids would look like you.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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thinking about mafia!Price and wife!Reader after you've had a kid ):

he was so obsessed with your body while you were pregnant, constantly rubbing your stomach, peppering it with kisses, pawing at your aching breasts, and that doesn't change after you've had the baby. of course he's gentle; he knows you're sore, but he just can't help it! if you complain about anything aching or hurting he's automatically offering to either kiss or massage it away because the man cannot get enough of you.

despite having to be gone for "work" a lot, he still makes time for both you and the baby. he'll cook as many meals as possible and whenever he's home you don't get to lift a finger. he does everything. some nights he gets home significantly later than others and sees you're still up, lounging in the living room watching a show as you attempt to rock your restless child to sleep. the cracked and bruised knuckles on john's hands aren't lost on you, and yet he uses those same hands to scoop up your child and talk her to sleep while he ushers you into the bedroom to get some well deserved rest.

and once the baby grows bigger? after a few months once you've healed up some and aren't as sore? he can't help himself. there's something about the way you hold your baby on your hip and hum to yourself while doing chores that gets him riled up. he's got you on hands and knees rutting into you from behind like a mindless dog. it's the first time you've had sex in months, and a few thrusts inside of you and you already feel like you're about to come undone.

"shh shh, darling," he coos into your ear. he's bent over your back, the hair of his chest brushing against your skin as he continues his relentless thrusts into you. "can't be too loud, now. can't wake the baby, now can we?"

but it's so difficult when he's hitting all those spots inside of you, cock bullying its tip up against your sensitive cervix. each snap of his hips against yours has your throat straining so hard to hold back your moans and cries it feels as if it'll tear to shreds. so you hide your face into the mattress, fingers curling in the duvet to cover your face as you pray that it's enough to muffle the sounds you can't help but let escape.

"look at you, my beautiful fuckin' wife. mother of my child," he grunts, voice tight as your cunt flutters around him. his hands grip the plump flesh of your hips as he pulls you back to meet him mid-thrust. "such a sweet thing, maybe i'll give you another one? fuck..."

he'll give you as many kids as you'll let him, let's be honest

#mafia!price #mafia!141 #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #captain price smut

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leclercings · 30 days

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Je hebt mijn hart | Carlos Sainz

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Verstappen!Reader

Summary: Carlos is your schatje...

A/N: this was for a request, hope you guys like it!

You sit beside a sleeping figure. There are beeps of the machine and lines indicating your lover's constant heartbeat.

You heave a sigh of relief as you wipe your tears.

Carlos has been admitted to the hospital for appendicitis and you haven't left his side for a second, no matter how many times his parents and your parents have told you to get some rest.

You were terrified while he was in surgery. Although the chances of complication in a surgery of appendicitis are extremely rare- that isn't to say that they aren't there. You know it well, having studied medicine.

You want him to wake up as soon as possible. Your eyes are droopy and head is heavy, almost falling asleep. But you hear slight movement and jolt awake.

“Carlos.” You smile at him as he opens his eyes.

“Schatje,” you gently stroke his hand as he squints.

“Where am I? Do I know you?”

Carlos stares at you intently. Your heart sinks to the bottom of your chest.

You're worried. What happened? Why can't he recognise you? It was a surgery of the abdomen, not the brain. Is he still under the influence of the anesthetic?

“Schatje, schatje. I will call the doctor.”

Just as you get up, he pulls you back.

“I was just kidding.”

He starts laughing. You feel like hitting him because he scared the shit out of you. Of course you won't hit him…

You'll wait till he gets better. The mere thought makes you chuckle. You pull yourself back to reality as Carlos groans.

“How are you?” You ask him, as he loosens his grip on your forearm.

“It is a little painful but not as before.”

You nod.

“You haven't slept in a while, have you?” Carlos stirs in the bed, and the machines start beeping.

“You're supposed to rest, mijn liefje. Don't move.”

You tuck him back inside the blanket and check the monitors. All good.

“I feel better now, Y/N. You should go sleep, mi amor.” He holds your hand gently, making circles at the back of it. The feeling is comforting, although it should be the other way around, but you don't care. You’ve missed him. Missed his touch.

“Carlos! You're awake.” Your conversation is interrupted as his parents enter.

“Y/N, you should go get some rest,” his mom tells you as you stifle a yawn. “We’ll take care of him, don't worry.”

“I'll go in a bit, is that fine?” You reply and she nods at you.

“It reminds me of the time that I had appendicitis,” his dad sits beside him, where you were sitting previously. You and his mom occupy the sofa.

“Won't it be cool if he does an Instagram post as a throwback?” You laugh at your silly idea.

The two of them stop talking and look at you.

“Honey, I think that's a great idea!” His dad smiles at you, and Carlos copies him.

“Sainz 2, Appendicitis 0,” you say, before another yawn.

*****

It's race day. Carlos, your boyfriend, without a job for next year, and now, a missing appendix. It's an important day for your lover. He's back in shape despite the pain, despite the fact that the doctor told him not to exert.

You sigh. He won't listen to anyone. He says that he has a point to prove- the fact that he's worth staying in this fast paced F1 world.

A world where careers can shatter in a millisecond.

You're torn between the Ferrari and Red Bull garage. You decide to hang out at the Red Bull garage.

“I'm worried, Max.” You tell him as he prepares himself for the race.

“Don't be. He'll be fine. Go be with him. I'll be fine too.”

“Good luck, Max.” You hug your brother as you walk towards the Ferrari garage.

A few mechanics give you the side eye as they watch you coming from the Red Bull garage. You haven't made your relationship public yet.

Carlos is sitting with his race engineer, going through some last minute instructions. He spots you and gives you the biggest smile ever.

“Good luck,” you mouth to him. You wish you could hug him, or just reassure him. But you can't. If people get to know about your relationship with Carlos, chaos will ensue. So you've kept it pretty lowkey, for a while now.

The race is intense. You're sitting at the Red Bull garage with Christian, and you can sense his disappointment in the third lap.

Max is obviously disappointed. So is everyone inside the garage. You have mixed feelings- struggling between Max’s DNF and Carlos’s lead.

You hide your pride as the race continues. The last lap has a lot going on, but when it all ends, you cheer from within.

Carlos has won. It's a 1-2 Ferrari win and a McLaren at the 3rd position.

You let out a big cry of happiness and everyone starts staring at you. Christian shakes his head and Max and Kelly start laughing.

You smile in embarrassment.

*****

You're sitting at the dinner table. Max is on your right and Carlos on the left. You've booked a table at a posh restaurant. Kelly and Penelope have joined too.

“Schatje, have some more curry please,” you tell Carlos, before serving some curry to him.

“Congratulations Carlos. You had a good race today,” Max speaks. That's the thing you love about Max- no matter how he was earlier, no matter how competitive is F1 as a motorsport, Max will always support you and your relationship with Carlos.

“Thank you Max. I'm sorry you had a DNF today.”

“That's what life is.” Max responds back.

“Mien liefje.. do you want something else?”

“Mien liefje,” Max laughs. Kelly nudges him. “Looks like someone is in love.”

“You and your never ending saga of cute nicknames for Carlos…” He speaks, making you blush.

Carlos smiles at you.

You feel conscious throughout rest of the dinner.

Max, Kelly and Penelope give you your space with Carlos, leaving a little bit early.

“I'm glad you won today,” you say, taking a bite of your tiramisu.

Carlos stares at you in amazement.

“What, is there something in my teeth?”

“No. I just wanted to say thank you for always supporting me.”

“Of course, Carlos. Always.”

As you walk back to your hotel, it's almost 2 am in the night. The walk back is peaceful. You intertwine your hand with his. A warmth spreads across your entire body- a warmth of love and joy.

You're flying back to your home tomorrow. You'll miss Carlos a lot, but you have a job to take care of. And the best part about him is that he understands.

You stand in front of the hotel. You're both staying at separate hotels. Carlos insisted on dropping you first and then going back to his hotel.

He softly kisses you.

“Je hebt mijn hart.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have my heart.”

“Je hebt mijn heart,” he repeats, before kissing you again.

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bvidzsoo · 26 days

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Stern, but sweet

✎ Teacher!San ✎

TW: nothing, just San being soft and hansome

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Helleur, lovelies! As you can see, those pictures are from San's latest YouTube live, which means I was inspired by it (dies). Also, it's the first time San bias wrecked me and I sincerely hope it stays that way, I've already got 3 official wreckers (dies again). Idk what this is, but he gave me cute aggression and at the same time the need to crawl up a wall...how is that possible? Anyways, enjoy, feedback is always welcomed!

so, you had been working at this school for a year now and you absolutely loved your job

the kids are lovely and you happened to grow attached to them quite fast, wanting to ensure they got the adequate education

but when it comes to your colleagues, well, they are quite boring

most of them are well past the age of 40 and they prefer going straight home after work, most of times refusing your invitations for a dinner between co-workers

and it also doesn't help much that you're a lot younger than most, making you feel left out when you hear them conversing about topics that you're either not interested in or just simply don't understand, like: raising children and maintaining a family at home

but when one of the homeroom teacher moves away and the school is in a frenzy to find someone fit for the job, a man around your age seems to confidently accept the challenge

Choi San, is his name

and my lord, when I tell you he's absolutely ravishing with his sharp eyes and soft looking skin

he looks like someone who would discipline you at the slightest misbehavior, and you don't know how to feel about it at first

but then he smiles and those cute dimples in his cheeks make you absolutely swoon over him, his aura so warm and lovely

you've come to know that Choi San is a man with a colorful personality

in his own class, he's very authoritative and stern, he doesn't allow his students to slack, and he doesn't accept any excuses as to why they haven't done their math homework

but San is an amazing teacher, and despite his subject being math, which many students tend to hate, those who he teaches just simply can't wait for his class to come

despite being stern and quite serious, he always cracks harmless jokes while explaining the hardest equations and theories, lightening the mood, and also helping the students focus

they love San in and outside of the classroom

whenever they have a problem, they know they can go to him as he will listen, giving them smart advice instead of rolling his eyes at them and telling them to get lost (like their last homeroom teacher had done so many times)

when there's a conflict, he first listens to both sides and then comes up with a solution (or punishment) that is fair and doesn't favor a student (like their previous homeroom teacher had done quite often)

but San, with his positive and warm energy, seems to also light up your office, the grumpy older teachers laughing a bit more often, a lot more open-minded with San here now

and well, you're a simple woman and you can't really help yourself when you start swooning over him (of course, when he's not watching you or paying attention to you) about just how perfect, and dreamy, he actually is

San was the one to approach you, and you quite liked that as he talked to you freely as if you had known each other for ages

you feel your most authentic self around him, never having to worry that he'll judge you or make fun of you behind your back (like you have caught a few of your fellow co-workers doing so before)

and seriously, San is just so good with children, that you can't help yourself as you develop a crush on him rapidly

and you hope he doesn't notice the way you gaze at him longingly when he's explaining something thoroughly to his students, or pats them on the head as encouragement, or even brings them candy so he can give it as a reward when they excel on their tests

and you certainly hope he doesn't see the way you stare at him for minutes at a time when you're both in your office, your cubicles next to each other, him busy typing on his computer and you busy...well staring at San

and you definitely do not absolutely die when one Friday he asks if you're doing anything later that night, eager to go to the new Amusement Park, saying he was thinking of inviting a few other colleagues as well since he's on good terms with them

you hate Amusement Parks, but if San loves them, well...you might grow to dislike them a little less

and so you definitely do not dress up all cute and spend two hours on your makeup and hair just because San invited you (and your colleagues, but you tend to ignore that part) out

what the two of you absolutely do not expect is for your colleagues to bail on you last minute, all of them saying the same excuse, "something came up, but we should go next time"

and perhaps you die a little on the inside, because you suddenly realize just how of an awkward person the both of you are, blushing and quickly avoiding eye contact when you catch the other one already looking

you don't want to tell San that you're afraid of heights and anything that goes with high speed when he points excitedly at the large roller-coaster, telling you how he's been waiting all day to go on it

you say nothing, you suck it up, because you're an adult and this is your work crush, and perhaps because the way San has been paying attention to you all evening, keeping people away from your body in the crowd as you moved around, or how without touching you, would hold his arm out behind your back when someone walked too close, made you feel rather comfortable in his presence

so, you brace yourself for the ride and certainly don't tremble as San helps you inside the cabin, sitting down next to you

once you're tied up and secured inside of it, is when you start praying to all Gods to give you strength so that you don't lose your mind during the ride

what you don't expect is San noticing how nervous and pale you are, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his as the ride takes off, making you clutch onto his hand for dear life

and the ride is so much fun that you're surprised how much you're enjoying it, but perhaps it's also because San keeps making you laugh and keeps talking to you, holding onto you

what you don't expect, once again, is him not letting go of your hand once you get off the ride, and instead he pulls you towards a photobooth, saying he wants to commemorate tonight's 'date'

oh, and you certainly don't faint when San decides to press a kiss against your cheek as the camera goes off for the last photo

seems like your work crush was crushing back on you, huh?

(seems like all of your coworkers knew about it and cancelled last minute on purpose as they've been secretly shipping the two of you and making bets about when you'd finally start dating)

Masterlist

↳ Perm. taglist: @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

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family day * fem!driver

her siblings are in attendance for her race, wreaking havoc wherever their sister steps foot in

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: siblings is the warning

notes: i tried to make this as anonymous friendly as possible but it's deemed very difficult when there are too many nameless characters... LOLSIE

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"oh my god. that's fernando alonso!"

the squeaky voice amidst all the chaos in the paddocks makes her snap her head, only catching her younger brother starting his run for the older driver up ahead.

her hand darts into the air, grabbing him by the back of his shirt's collar. she yanks him back towards her, stumbling back steps but still managing his stability to stand tall. "where do you think you're going, dalton?"

"dude. that's fernando alonso. i've got to say hi!" he points excitedly towards the man towards the aston martin home. he tries to swat her grip on him off, the front hem of his shirt pressed up against his neck. "come on!"

"this is my first year here, you're not embarrassing me by acting like a crazed fan."

"i'm not acting like a crazed fan. he's my hero!"

"you weren't even interested in the sport until last year when i told you i'm moving up to f1."

"he doesn't have to know that."

"but he will."

"he will not."

oscar sighs, reaching forward to forcefully remove her hands from the deathly grip it had on the mclaren shirt that dalton had on. "come on, kid. i'll take you to him."

"no, you're not," she repeats, physically moving him away from the australian. she turns away from oscar and puts her hands on her hips. she points a stern finger towards her brother. "you're not to talk to any of the drivers without me."

his mouth moves, mocking her as she tells him off with a roll of his eyes. "fine, whatever."

"i have to go meet seb for a team meeting. please behave," she pleads, palms pressed together. she looks at oscar with an expectant stare and glances at dalton. "like, seriously. i have enough on my plate today."

oscar nods, scrunching up his nose to reassure her. he gives her a thumbs up while his arm slings over the younger boy's shoulders. "i got it. don't worry about us."

"i'm serious, oscar!" she widens her eyes and takes a step forward. the two boys flinch with a step backwards, throwing their hands up in the air to fend her off. she turns to her brother once more. "i can't babysit you guys today; i'll be working! it doesn't help i've got dumb, dumber and dumbest for siblings."

"hey, you're related to us! you're the leader of the dumbs," he scoffs, arms folding over his chest in frustration.

oscar puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking her body slightly to calm her down. he retracts his hand when her stare cuts to him. "i'll find them and i'll show them around."

her stare lingers without another word. finally, she slouches slightly and she drops her arms to the side. she unclenches her fists. "okay. my meeting shouldn't take too long. i'll text you when i'm done."

a small smile finally stretches her lips. she turns around to start walking towards her team home.

she only takes a small step forward before paranoia engulfs her again. "seriously, no talking to the other drivers without me!"

oscar gives her two thumbs up, waving her off as she gets further down the pathway.

oscar squeezes the boy in his arms and pats his chest. a mischievous smile on his face, turning the other way towards the stretch of racing homes. "how'd you like to meet fernando alonso, kid?"

"oh, don't stress," sebastian waves her off, tapping his phone against his palm. he's walking slowly with the driver next to him, head turning as he searches for the siblings she's losing her mind over. "i'm sure oscar is taking care of them."

"no, he's not! they went to meet fernando and max behind my back when i specifically told them not to!" she screams over the music, pushing through the crowd to find the group wreaking havoc on behalf of her name.

she's desperate to find them. she's tiptoeing and craning her neck in attempts to spot them in the crowd. but with her lack of height, it's deemed almost impossible to complete her mission.

"how do you even know that?" he chuckles, glancing at her frantic state. truth is, he spotted her group of siblings with the bright orange-dressed driver just a few seconds ago.

"because i saw dalton's instagram story! he's posted a selfie with fernando!"

"okay. well, i found them." sebastian grabs her arm, dragging her towards a quieter area.

there, in fact, stands all her siblings with a couple of drivers. and the main source of all her stress, oscar piastri.

"hey, (y/n)!" max beckons her over, beaming with a wide smile and faltering laughter. "you never told us your siblings were so funny! i can see where they get it from."

"that's because they're not funny," she frowns, taking a spot next to the red bull driver who's moved slightly to include her in their circle. "i'm the only one blessed with humour in my family."

alex throws his head back, giggling. with several siblings of his own, he definitely can feel for her. especially being the oldest. "well, they're a delight to be with. they should attend more races, you know!"

"i agree with alex," ciara points at him with a knowing nod. and a smirk that drives her crazy. "it's kinda fun being here."

she scrunches her nose, shaking her head mockingly. "you wish. you've still got school to attend and i have better people to give my race passes to and it's not you."

"so, (y/n), ciara was telling us about your first boyfriend," alex laughs, covering his mouth to cover the smile growing on his face. "was he ugly?"

"he was ugly," dalton confirms with a frown on his face, flashes of his oldest sister's ex-boyfriend flashing in his head. "a total douchebag."

"how would you know, you were like 9."

"you've had a boyfriend!" sebastian grins, staring at her with an open smile. "you never told me about that! i thought you've never had one."

"he is ugly," oscar adds on, shrugging at alex when he receives a shocked stare. he reaches for his phone in his back pocket, stepping to the middle of their circle. "let me show you guys!"

"we dated for 6 months, it doesn't count!" she scrambles forward, trying to swat the phone away from oscar's hands. "don't show them!"

max tilts his head. "why, how ugly was he?"

"considerably," ciara laughs, nodding as she purses her lips together.

"who was ugly?" logan pops up behind alex, furrowing his eyebrows at the female wrestling oscar for his phone.

the height difference always plays a part: oscar simply holds the phone up with extended arms as she tries to physically climb hin to get ahold of it.

"her ex-boyfriend," max grins, clearly enjoying the chaos that her siblings have brought him this race weekend.

"she won't kill you, here you go," oscar laughs, tossing his phone towards the dutch leaning on the wall.

"he was nice, okay!" she defends, finally detaching herself from oscar. she stares at max, hands stiffly extended down in embarrassment as the phone gets passed around the circle. "and i was 16! come on!"

"i'm not judging," max shrugs, though eyes still stuck to the screen in his hands. alex is leaned in towards the phone, glancing up at her then back to the phone again as he tries to form an opinion. "but i would have done better if i was a girl as pretty as you."

"aw, he thinks you're pretty! dude!" dalton teases, punching his sister's back very gently.

she throws her head back and groans when sebastian joins the huddle around the phone. "not the point!"

sebastian's face contorts to a look of disbelief. he looks up at her, nose scrunched up and mouth agape. "and what did you look like when you were 16 again?"

"here." ciara extends her hand with her phone, clearly prepared for somebody to ask that question.

sebastian takes it into his hands, ignoring the girl's pleads to not take the phone. he pushes it next to oscar's phone, the three drivers now forming their final verdicts.

max pouts his lips out. "definitely too pretty for him."

"that's what we told her." logan looks down at his feet and shakes his head in disappointment.

the conversation that they used to have over the phone briefly flashes through his mind as she defended her young relationship. oscar would then roll his eyes over the phone screen and simply tell her to fuck off.

"well, you're in the big leagues now! it won't take long for you to bag a famous boyfriend," oscar teases, pulling her in for a side hug. "he'll be cute this time, we'll make sure of it."

max nods, lips pressed together as he agrees with oscar. "you won't even be allowed to get hit on by ugly guys anymore now that we're here."

the girl shied away behind ciara, very silent this whole time, pokes her head out and chuckles. "sounds like they're trying to set you up with somebody already."

"blythe, please!"

"i hope you guys enjoyed media day," she shrugs, swinging her bag over her shoulder. she puts a hand on her hip and flicks her head towards the exit of the paddocks. "first and last race you'll be attending, by the way."

"hater," ciara scoffs, scrambling to get up from her position on the floor. she straightens her shirt and sighs. "but i guess it was kinda fun."

blythe sends ciara and stern glare. "it was fun. your colleagues are all very nice. i hope they're treating you well?"

"they're very protective," she shrugs with a shy smile.

"and oscar's a menace as always? i don't expect anything less from him, having grown up with three sisters as well." blythe glances at dalton trailing behind them.

the younger boy is now silent, dragging his feet against the floor and shoulders slumped as he follows them blindly.

"i swear he has a crush on you, dude," ciara giggles, bumping shoulders with her older sister. "you've gotta ask him or something."

she furrows her eyebrows. the thought of oscar being romantically interested in her is absolutely absurd. "oscar has a girlfriend, ciara. god forbid i be friends with a guy and keep it platonic."

ciara shrugs, "either he wants to hit or he thinks you're ugly - it's the rule of thumb. matt rife said it."

"just end the conversation before you get into a fight," blythe sighs tiredly, putting her hands up to separate the two. "it was a good day. thank you for giving us your passes this weekend."

"absolutely," she smiles. she hangs back a couple of steps and wraps her hand around dalton's arm. "i hope you enjoyed today. you met charles too, right?"

dalton nods, eyes half closed. "you were right - he is very pretty up close," he says softly, voice sore from all the excited screaming he's done all day. "my favourite is still sebastian."

she rubs his arm gently, giggling at his short responses. "okay, let's get you guys back to the hotel for some dinner and a good night's rest. that's only 1 day out of 3."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

#sebastian vettel x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #sebastian vettel x you #oscar piastri x you #max verstappen x you #alex albon x you #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #formula 1 fem!driver #f1 grid x reader #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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ghostedbunnie · 5 months

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hear me out, husband! Price letting his hair grow out while on a longer leave. his little twins are all over it, attempting to braid it, clipping as many colourful butterfly and unicorn clips into it as possible.

as his leave comes to an end he asks you to give him a haircut. he trusts you with those scissors a little too much so you get really focused to not make his cut uneven. all the while he is watching you with rapt attention, hands resting on your hips kneading them absentmindedly wondering if you'll let him give you another baby.

while you're finishing up he can't take it anymore and hoists you up by your thighs, holding you with one hand while taking the scissors away putting them back into a drawer where the kids can't stumble upon them. mind already scrambled with the thoughts of you swollen with his baby again, he licks into your mouth murmuring between kisses, "how about one more? come on, honey. just one more yeah?"

is it really any surprise that you could never tell him no? you're just hoping that it won't be twins again.

#is it ever really a price prompt if he doesn't have the most outrageous breeding kink?#john price x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #price x you #john price x you #john price cod #captain john price #captain john price x reader #x reader insert #bunnie writes

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such-expensive-mistakes · 6 months

Text

When Oliver Queen was dead, he ended up in the Infinite Realms, where he inadvertently became the mentor to teen ghost hero Phantom. After Ollie came back to life, he made a point of reaching out to Phantom, just in case the kid needed anything.

DCxDP Week prompt: found family

Author's Notes: I've tried to make this accessible as possible to those of you who aren't familiar with the Arrowfam, but here are links to character primers on Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden if you want them. If you are familiar with GA comics, then just know that this is set loosely during the 2001 run. And finally, the idea of a hero in the Infinite Realms helping mentor Danny was largely inspired by Blueseabird2's fic Grave Promises. (It's excellent! If you haven't read it, go do that!)

"Do you remember it?" Ollie asks, looking at Superman out of the corner of his eye. They're standing in front of Oliver's grave. Always made the right enemies. It's a hell of an epitaph; Ollie wonders who came up with it. Roy or Dinah, probably.

"Remember..." Superman says.

"Being dead."

Supes gives him that same look everyone seems to be giving Ollie these days, like he's not quite sure if Ollie is all there in the head.

"Never mind." Oliver waves a hand. "Just thinking."

He does remember it, is the thing. He remembers the endless Infinite Realms, as green as any of Hal's constructs. He remembers the ghosts-- the ones who had originally been alive like him, and the ones that had never lived at all. Humans and aliens and otherdimensional beings, all together in one place. He remembers being in the same costume he'd died in, only color-flipped to red. (That was just wrong. Red was Roy's color, not Ollie's.)

And he remembers Phantom.

He'd met Phantom pretty early on. Time in the Infinite Realms was tricky; it didn't move like time did on Earth. Sometimes it went slower, sometimes faster, sometimes it even seemed to go backwards. So he didn't remember exactly how long he'd been in the Realms before coming across Phantom, but it didn't feel like long.

Phantom had been chasing down some magical artifact when he'd come across Oliver-- or rather, Red Arrow-- who had picked a fight with an asshole ghost way more powerful than him.

Some things never changed. But hey, ghost arrows were pretty nifty.

Phantom had helped him out, and in return Ollie had offered to help Phantom with tracking down the artifact he was looking for. As they talked, it quickly became obvious that Phantom was doing the whole teen hero thing-- and not just in the Realms, but on Earth. He clammed up when Ollie asked too many questions, but it was pretty clear that he didn't have a mentor or anything.

"Do you have the Teen Titans in your world?" Oliver asked, having learned by that point that the Infinite Realms connected every dimension out there.

"Yeah," Phantom had said, looking wary.

"You should talk to them," Oliver said. "It helps to have someone out there on your side, who knows what you're dealing with." The Titans had been good for Roy. Not just friends, although they were that, too, but an extra support system.

But Phantom shook his head. "I can't." And then he'd gone on to describe the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW.

Ollie had never exactly been a fan of the government-- too much corruption, too many rich assholes using the system to protect themselves-- but this still managed to surprise him. And while he was pretty sure his own world's Teen Titans wouldn't stand for this kind of thing-- or even the JLA, no matter how badly they sometimes overreached-- he had no way of knowing whether Phantom's Teen Titans were the same ones he knew.

"Tell you what," Ollie said. "Next time you get a chance, track me down and I'll show you a few things. I don't know how much help I'll be with superpowers, but--"

"Really?" Phantom had asked, then surprised Ollie by hugging him.

That was the start of it. They'd tracked down the artifact, Phantom had left the Realms to go back and do his hero thing on Earth, and Oliver was left to second-guess himself until the next time Phantom came around.

Oliver wasn't exactly a perfect mentor. He'd done his best for Roy, but there were so many things he would do differently if he had the chance. But he was better than nothing, which was what Phantom had been working with before.

Phantom didn't need to learn archery; he had superpowers. But Ollie managed to teach him a thing or two about picking your shot and waiting for the right moment. About trusting your instincts and dodging bullets (or ectoblasts).

Phantom was cagey about anything that wasn't hero work, but Oliver managed to glean a few details. He had a couple of living friends who helped him out, he was frequently chased down by ghost hunters, and most of the town he was based in didn't think particularly highly of him. And that was on top of his whole rogue's gallery of villainous ghosts, not to mention the GIW.

"You can't make people like you," Ollie advised him. "Even if you do all the right things. You just have to trust yourself and ignore the public opinion." God knew plenty of people had hated the Green Arrow over the years.

It had been rewarding, in a way Ollie had almost forgotten, watching Phantom grow as a hero. Watching him grow more confident and more skilled-- and Ollie wasn't giving himself credit for all of that, but he'd helped bring those qualities out.

And then, Oliver came back to life.

"Where to next?" Roy asks, as they drive out of Central City. Ollie appreciates that Roy is willing to follow his lead on this, even though it's clear Roy thinks he's being ridiculous. Sure, Wally would probably have let Ollie have that old ring of Barry's if he'd asked, just like the JLA would probably have let him have the diamond-tipped arrow. But those things weren't theirs to keep or give in the first place.

"Amity Park, Illinois."

Roy gives him a skeptical look over the top of his sunglasses. "The hell is in Amity Park?" He's bracing himself to hear about some other memorabilia Ollie left behind upon his death, something else that wasn't disposed of the way Ollie had requested. Something else that other people-- even Roy-- think insignificant.

That would be easier to explain than this.

"Maybe nothing," Oliver says. "But I need to be sure."

Finding Amity Park in the first place is a task and a half. It's not on the map Roy keeps in his glovebox, and they have to ask directions at multiple gas stations across Illinois before they arrive.

It's immediately clear that they're in the right place. Amity Park is a small city-- barely even a city, really. But the property damage evident on the streets and the buildings is on par with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

Roy slides off his shades. "What on earth..." He glances at Oliver. "Ollie, what is this?"

A green streak shoots across the sky, followed by a white one.

Phantom.

"Follow them!" Ollie points at the ghosts.

By the time they arrive, it's a stand-off. The other ghost has disappeared, but Phantom is hovering twenty feet off the ground, dodging blasts from a couple in brightly colored hazmat suits.

The Fentons. Ollie had heard a few stories about them while he was in the Infinite Realms, though Phantom had been reluctant to talk about them.

"Ollie," Roy says. In his voice, Ollie can hear all the suppressed rage he himself is feeling, watching a child-- a superpowered child, but a child nonetheless-- getting shot at.

"Not yet." Ollie wants to help, but he doesn't want to make things worse by jumping in without thinking. Their help isn't needed in the end; Phantom manages to disappear from sight while the ghost hunters are distracted.

Oliver tells the whole story to Roy over dinner at the local fast food joint.

"Jesus Christ," Roy says.

"So you see why I want to talk to Phantom," Ollie says.

"Aren't you already training two kids already? You gonna add all of this on top?"

"Connor doesn't need training. He could probably teach me a thing or two. And no one is training Mia in anything." Okay, that last part isn't quite true; Oliver knows for a fact that Connor has been giving Mia lessons in archery and hand-to-hand. But as long as she's not trying to put on a costume and fight crime, he'll pretend he doesn't know. Hell, it makes him feel better, knowing that she has a trick or two up her sleeve.

"Phantom can't be much older than she is," Roy says, a hint of judgment in his tone.

"Phantom is already dead," he says. Roy flinches a little. "And he doesn't have a Hal Jordan to bring him back."

They go back to their burgers. It's not until Oliver is crumpling up his wrapper that he speaks again.

"Look," Ollie says. "This is a lot bigger than Phantom. And based on what I know of him, he's not going to want to leave Amity Park. But I want to let him know that someone's got his back."

Roy claps him on the shoulder. "More than just one person."

Tracking down Phantom for a conversation is harder than it sounds. Oliver doesn't know how much time he even spends out here, rather than in the Infinite Realms. Not to mention the handy ghost power of invisibility.

He suits up and stakes out a rooftop downtown, with Roy doing the same on the other side of town. He's just getting ready to pack it in for the night and try it again tomorrow when a familiar form materializes next to him.

"Arrow?" Phantom asks.

Oliver smiles. "Hey, kid."

"What-- how-- you're alive?" Phantom sputters a little.

"Am now," Ollie says. "A friend of mine brought me back." He gives a quick overview-- Green Lantern, godlike power, decided what the world was missing was one Oliver Queen.

"I'm going to do what I can about the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW," Oliver says. "But if you ever need anything, give me a call. Or just track me down in Star." He hands a slip of paper with his phone number and email on it to Phantom.

"Danny," Phantom says.

"Sorry?"

"My name. It's Danny."

"Oliver." Ollie holds out his hand and Danny shakes it. "Good to meet you, Danny."

For a while, he only hears from Danny through irregular emails and the very occasional phone call. Ollie leans on his Justice League acquaintances to help repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and get rid of the GIW. It's slow going-- much slower than Ollie would like. Too many JL members are advising caution, wanting to find out more about ghosts and how dangerous they might be before they take a stand. Luckily, neither Superman and Wonder Woman were happy about Oliver's news, and hold a lot of sway with the American public. And rather conveniently, a number of reporters have suddenly begun looking into the Anti-Ecto Acts, stirring up public sentiment against them even more than before.

Things are looking good. And then, Danny shows up at the front door of Oliver's brownstone.

Oliver is making himself a sandwich when he hears the knock at the door. Mia (who had finally gotten Ollie to agree to let her be Speedy a few weeks back) is with the Teen Titans for the weekend, and Connor is working at the youth center for most of the day, so there's no one else here to answer the door. Ollie wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and opens the door.

Ollie doesn't know it's Danny at first. The Danny he met was a ghost, complete with jumpsuit and white hair and superpowers. The kid that shows up at Ollie's front door is a living, breathing kid. He's got pale skin and dark hair and he can't be any older than sixteen. He's a little on the thin side, though given his age, he could just be going through a growth spurt, and the backpack slung over his shoulder is decorated with a NASA patch.

"Ollie?" the kid asks.

"That's me," Ollie says. "What can I do for you?"

"It's Danny. Phantom," he clarifies in a low voice. "From Amity Park."

He can see it, now that he knows to look. The face and build are the same, just color-swapped.

“I need your help,” Danny continues.

The kid looks like he’s about to fall over from exhaustion or stress or both.

Ollie opens the door a little wider. "Come on in. I was just making myself some lunch. You can tell me what's going on."

Danny follows him into the kitchen and takes a seat at the counter. Ollie finishes the sandwiches and slides one over to Danny.

Danny doesn't pick it up at first, busy fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I don’t know where to start."

"Well, I gotta say," Oliver says. "You're looking pretty alive for a dead guy. I mean, same could be said for myself, but I told you how that happened."

Danny grimaces. "About that. It's kind of complicated."

Oliver leans against the opposite counter. "Hit me with it."

He already knows it's bad. He was worried about Phantom in the first place; that's why he gave Danny a way to contact him if necessary. Whatever made Danny travel halfway across the country to see him? It can't be good.

"My parents are the Fentons," Danny starts.

Immediately Oliver knows the story is going to be worse than he anticipated. "The ghost hunters. The ones who built the portal." Ollie had heard all about that portal during his sojourn in the Infinite Realms-- some from Phantom, some from other ghosts.

"Yeah. Well, the portal didn't exactly work at first. My friends wanted to see it, and..." Danny shrugs. "It worked better than anyone gave them credit for, it's just that they accidentally put the switch on the inside."

He can see where this story is going. "And you accidentally turned it on."

"Yeah. It killed me, but all the ectoplasm coming through the portal brought me back to life. So I'm only half-dead." Danny finishes up his sandwich but Oliver, who is familiar with the eating habits of superhero teenagers, hands him another one.

"I'm guessing your folks don't know."

"My sister does. My parents don't." Danny fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie. "That's not important."

It seems a little bit important.

“It don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” Danny adds. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You can stay here as long as you need to," Ollie says. There's an extra bedroom that Stanley used as an office, back when this place belonged to him. He'll need to get the junk cleaned out, but it should work for Danny. "But it might help if I had a few more details. Is someone gonna come looking for you-- or for Phantom?"

"I don't think so," Danny says. "Well, the GIW might, but they're not super active outside of Amity Park."

"We'll handle them if they show up." Oliver would love the chance to put a few arrows in them, and he's sure Connor and Mia would feel the same.

There's obviously more to this story than Danny is currently telling him, but Ollie isn't gonna press. Not yet. Long and difficult experience has taught him how badly that usually goes when dealing with teenagers.

Danny finishes up his lunch, and Ollie shows him around, eventually leaving him to hang out in the living room and watch TV. Ollie himself starts packing up the junk in the spare room. Danny might have to sleep on the couch for a day or two, until they get a bed for him to use, but it's an alright couch. Ollie has certainly slept in less comfortable places.

He doesn't realize how much time has passed until he hears Connor call him from downstairs.

"Dad?"

His tone of voice is carefully measured, but it's enough to remind Oliver that Danny is downstairs-- and that he didn't let Connor know about their new guest.

He dashes down the stairs and, sure enough, Connor and Danny are watching each other warily from other sides of the living room. Danny in particular looks like he wants to bolt.

"This is Danny," Oliver says. "He's gonna be staying with us for a while. And Danny, this is my son, Connor. He's the other Green Arrow."

"Nice to meet you," Connor says to Danny. Then, "Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ollie follows Connor downstairs to the training room in their basement. He has no idea how far Danny's enhanced senses extend outside the Infinite Realms-- or even if they work at all when he's not a ghost-- but Ollie suspects this conversation might not be as private as Connor is hoping.

"Are you sure about this?" Connor asks.

"He doesn't have anywhere else," Ollie says. "What do you want me to do?"

Connor runs his hand over his face. "I don't know. But have you even talked to Mia about this? When did you even meet this kid?"

"It was a sudden development," Ollie says. "So no, I didn't. But I don't think Mia's gonna tell me to send him packing." He knows that's not what Connor is worried about; for all her bravado, Mia is still insecure about many things. "As for how I met him... that's a bit of a story."

"Okay," Connor finally says. "As long as you're sure."

Ollie clasps his shoulder. "I appreciate it."

They don't explain anything further to Connor that night, which is probably unfair to him. But Ollie doesn't really want to make Danny explain more than once, and Mia won't be back until the next day.

Danny sleeps on the couch, and in the morning, he helps Ollie and Connor clean out the spare room. Mia shows up a little after noon, having gotten a ride back from one of her powered friends, and finds the three of them eating pizza in the living room.

"You better have saved me some," she says, as she tosses her overnight bag on the floor.

"Didn't your friends feed you?" Ollie asks, but he passes her the box of pepperoni.

Mia takes a slice and perches on the back of the couch, right next to Danny. "Hi! I'm Mia." She gives Danny a look that is probably intended to be flirtatious.

Danny looks a little like a deer in the headlights. "Uh, hi?"

Connor raises an eyebrow at Oliver, and yeah, maybe having a teenage boy staying in the same house as Mia is a bad idea. Then again, he's closer to her age than the guys she usually hits on.

"This is Danny," Oliver says. "Danny, Mia is my other kid. She's also Speedy."

They give Connor and Mia the cliff's notes version on ghosts and the Infinite Realms. Danny knows a lot more than Ollie does about all of it, but he's much worse at explaining. He either gets lost on tangents about inconsequential details, or he assumes they have more baseline knowledge than they do.

"I'm sorry," Mia says. "Can we go back to the part where ghosts exist?"

"We've fought actual demons," Connor says. "How are ghosts harder to believe?"

"Ollie was never a demon," Mia says with a shrug. Then she narrows her eyes at Oliver. "Were you?"

Ollie laughs. "Definitely not."

The next week or so is pretty quiet, by their standards. The Green Arrows and Speedy go out and handle low-level crime in the city every night, though Phantom stays in at Ollie's suggestion; if the GIW is looking for him, it's better if he lies low. It's a little worrying how easily he agrees. It had never been that easy to convince him to do anything when they were training in the Infinite Realms.

Mia, who is better with technology than Ollie is, helps Danny send a message to his friends, letting them know he's safe.

"It's better if I don't give them too many details," Danny says. "Anyone who's looking for me will be watching them. All of our devices are encrypted, thanks to Tucker, but I don't want to take any chances."

Danny comes with them to help out at the youth center, even while Ollie tells him that he's welcome to stay home and play video games or whatever. Danny hasn't said anything about it, and so Ollie hasn't either, but Danny doesn't seem to want to be left alone for long.

Oliver wonders if that's because he's worried about himself or about them.

"So, where do your folks think you are?" Ollie asks at one point.

Danny shrugs. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, I'd like to know if I'm likely to be charged with kidnapping." Connor and Mia both shoot him judgmental looks, but it's not like either of them were under any illusions about Ollie's ability to be delicate. "I mean, I can handle it if I am, but I'd like to be prepared."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Danny says, and that's the subject closed for the moment.

Mia corners Ollie one afternoon at the youth center, while Danny is playing basketball with some of the kids. Danny is losing, badly. Turns out he's incredibly clumsy when he's not using his powers. The kids don't seem to mind, though, and Danny is a pretty good sport about it.

"We're keeping him, right?" Mia asks.

Oliver gives Mia a level look. He hasn't noticed anything beyond some flirting on Mia's side, but that doesn't mean much.

"Not like that," Mia says, rolling her eyes. "I mean, he's cute, but he's kind of dense."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure the same has been said about me," Ollie jokes.

"Whatever he's not telling us... it's got to be pretty bad, right?" Mia says. "But he seems happy here. And we won't let anything happen to him."

There's a lot Oliver could say here: Danny has parents, he has friends, he has a home he obviously misses. By almost every measure, he's far more powerful than Ollie or his kids, and whatever has him scared is quite possibly out of their league. But the truth is, he feels the way Mia does.

"It's up to him," Oliver finally says. "But he's welcome to stay as long as he wants to."

Green Arrow and Speedy are crouched on a rooftop, taking aim at a couple of drug dealers, when Connor's voice crackles across the comms.

"I've got eyes on some guys in white suits," he says. "At Fifty-first and Green."

That's halfway across town, though nowhere near the brownstone. If something goes down in the next few minutes, Connor is going to be on his own.

"Don't engage," Ollie says. "We're on our way."

They break up the drug deal and make their way toward Connor, who has been updating them on the GIW's movements the whole while.

"I think they're looking for something," Connor says. "They keep stopping and checking some kind of device-- I think it's a tracker of some kind."

"They're looking for Danny," Mia says.

"How did they even know he's here?" Ollie wonders, but neither Mia nor Connor have any idea. He makes a split-second decision. "Mia, head back home and keep an eye on Danny. Tell him Connor and I are handling it."

Mia is obviously put out by being sent away from the action, but she complies. Oliver catches up with Connor, perching next to him on the edge of a roof. Down on the street, a couple of men dressed all in white exit a white van and wave around a couple of handheld electronic devices. They don't look up, which seems like a mistake from people who ostensibly deal with ghosts. Convenient for the Green Arrows, though.

Trailing the GIW agents is a piece of cake. Their all-white getup makes them clearly visible from a distance, and they seem to rely on their equipment rather than their eyes or ears.

Their apparent incompetence makes Oliver get a little cocky, and that's where things go wrong. He lands on the building closest to the agents, sure that they won't look up and see him-- and he's right.

Unfortunately, their device starts beeping just at that moment, and the two men are suddenly on high alert. Ollie gets the bad feeling that something about him is what set it off. They pull out their guns and look around wildly, until one of the geniuses gets the bright idea to look up. That's when they start shooting wildly at Oliver and Connor.

Their aim isn't great, and whatever kind of energy weapons they're using are only powerful enough to do some superficial damage to the building facade, but Ollie isn't eager to find out how it would feel to get hit by one of those. Fortunately, he and Connor are both much better shots than these guys.

They shoot the weapons out of the agents' hands first, then Ollie puts an arrow through one guy's hand while Connor puts one through the other guy's foot.

For a minute, it seems like it's going to be that easy. Then, three more white vans come peeling down the street and a dozen more agents pour out. Now, it's Oliver and Connor who are pinned down, ducking behind the roof's edge to avoid getting hit by those energy weapons.

Ollie puts an arrow through another guy's shoulder, and is just a smidge too slow getting back out of the way. The energy blast is going to hit him right in the shoulder. He braces to take the hit--

A green shield appears in front of him. The energy blast hits it and dissipates.

For a moment, Ollie thinks it's the work of a Lantern. And then he sees Phantom, a bright white and glowing target hovering above the street.

The GIW agents have completely disregarded Ollie and Connor, and are frantically shooting at Phantom. Phantom is dodging the blasts easily; there's no sign of the clumsiness that he's beset with when he's a normal human. One of the agents gets an arrow through his shoulder, and Ollie spots Mia perched on a roof across the street.

In hindsight, he really should have expected this. Neither of those kids are the type to sit at home when they could be helping instead. Even so, he doesn't like it.

With Danny distracting the agents, it's much easier for Ollie, Connor and Mia to hit them. They may be outnumbered, but the GIW agents are terrible shots. At some point, the agents seem to realize this, too, and flee back into their vans, limping and bleeding, and drive away.

"Follow them?" Connor asks.

"No," Ollie says. "I don't think they're going to try anything else tonight."

The four of them make their way back to the brownstone.

"I told you to stay here with Danny," Ollie tells Mia, once they're inside and putting away their gear.

"Did you really think I was going to listen?" Mia asks.

Ollie runs his hands over his face. "A man can dream."

"Besides," Mia adds, "from where I was standing it seemed like we bailed you two out. Right, Danny?"

With a flash of light, Danny transforms back to his human form. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know how they knew I was here."

"I'm not sure they did," Connor says. "They were looking pretty hard for something before they went after the two of us."

"But they were looking for me specifically," Danny says.

Ollie gives Danny a closer look. He's clearly nervous. More than just nervous, he looks like he's on the verge of taking off and running.

"What makes you so sure they're here for you?" Oliver asks. It's not that he doesn't trust Danny's instincts, but he doesn't feel like he's got the whole picture.

Danny leans against the workbench, almost knocking a set of half-finished arrows to the floor. "They've been trying to catch Phantom since the beginning," he says. "I kind of made their lives difficult."

"Good," Connor says, crossing his arms.

"Plus, a lot of Amity Parkers kind of... don't like Phantom? So the GIW heard about what a menace I was, and that didn't help. But then you got Superman and Wonder Woman and all of them to talk about how bad the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts are, and that helped, and-- I had it handled. "

"So what happened?" Mia asks.

"My parents found out. And I kind of freaked out? And I flew off, and the GIW caught up to me." Danny looks around, takes in their stricken expressions, and hurries to add, "Not for long! But then I headed back home and my parents were telling everyone I was dead. I didn't know what to do, so I came here."

Oliver's head hurts just thinking about this mess. He walks across the room and wraps an arm around Danny. "We'll get this figured out," he promises, though he's not entirely sure how. "First things first. What do you want to do about your parents?"

Mia scowls at him-- she's clearly already formed her opinion on Danny's parents. Ollie can't say he disagrees, but he's made his own share of mistakes in the parenting department. He hopes that the Fentons might be able to come around, if only because Danny clearly loves them.

"The GIW..." Danny begins.

"I've got a few ideas about them." Ollie is a little torn between hunting them down himself, pointing Supes or someone in their direction, or letting it leak to the public that these government lackeys chased a kid halfway across the country. "Do you want to go back to your parents?"

"I don't know," he says. "I miss them, but... I don't know if they'll believe I'm really me. They think all ghosts are evil. But even if they believed me..." He trails off.

"You can stay here," Mia insists. "Right, Ollie?"

"Of course he can." He didn't actually need Mia's prompting for that. "You're welcome to stick around as long as you want, but you should at least stay until we get the GIW shut down."

Danny looks around the room at the three of them. Whatever he sees must reassure him because after a long minute, he nods. "Okay. At least until then."

#dc x dp fic #dcxdp #dpxdc #green arrow #arrowfam #dpxdc week 2023

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angelltheninth · 8 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara Being a Secret Softie

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, big tough guy is a softie, kissing, purring, cuddles, going shopping, teasing, little spoon/big spoon, soft Miguel

A/N: Spreading more of my softie Miguel agenda.

Secret softie!Miguel cuddles with you in his office chair when he needs to recharge his batteries for the rest of the day. His door is always locked so no one can walk in and interrupt, but he likes to toy with the idea during more intimate scenes that involve less clothes. When in private like this he will let you hear him purr his heart out while you're cuddling together.

"And in case you think of telling anyone of this just remember that I'm your boss okay? You can't embarrass me like this. You... wouldn't do that, would you baby? There's a reason that door is locked, my reputation could be ruined if anyone saw me be like this. You're my wife but also my secretary, I need to be professional."

Secret softie!Miguel kisses you silly before every meeting. He claims he has to do this in order to deliver a good speech. This is false of course, all his speeches are written and rehearsed in advance. Confidence is just an excuse to kiss you more. His aim is to get as many kisses as possible, but for some reason he always starts less then ten minutes before each meeting.

"Let me kiss you some more. We still have time, a few minutes. We can get a lot done in that timeframe. Do I need to make you sit on the desk in order to obey? You know there's no way you can overpower me right? Deny me? Well you can but I know you want to kiss me just as badly."

Secret softie!Miguel carries your groceries and shopping bags every time, acting as if he can hide behind them if he needs to. You can give him as many as you want, none are heavy for him. He can end up looking a little silly, with a bunch of tiny bags hanging off him like he was a big walking Christmas tree. What's in it for him though? You. In exchange he can ask you to do one thing for him, within reason of course but so far he never asked for anything that made you uncomfortable.

"Is it just me or are there more bags every time we do this? Pretty soon I won't be able to see where I'm going. You're gonna have to guide me. Speaking of not seeing things I've just had an idea of what you can do for me later. Hint: there's a blindfold involved."

Secret softie!Miguel enjoys being the little spoon when you go to sleep. This can look a little finny since he is that much taller then you are but when he feels you pressed against his back and your arms tracing patters over his chest and abs it doesn't matter how ridiculous he looks. He will bend his head down when your hands are close and kiss your fingers, biting affectionately at your ring finger for good measure.

"When you said you wanted to get behind me this wasn't exactly what I had in mind but it works. It works really well actually. Hey! That tickles! What are you writing down there? Well, I might be a little ticklish but you forget that I know many more of your weak spots then you do mine."

Secret softie!Miguel texts you every few hours, sending you updates, no matter what they are. He really enjoys texting about random, most mundane things with you and sending you photos of him eating lunch. If someone asks him who he's texting he won't say it's you every time. His friends are already picking up on how much he changes his demeanor when he's around you, so much so that they begin inviting you to come along just so he isn't as scary as usual.

"Do my texts bother you? Are you showing them to anyone? It's just that... some of my teammates, friends, have been asking about you a lot. I think they might think something's up, they want you to go with me no matter what we do. And they're always giggling about it when I tell them I'm talking to you. I bet that it's the kids fault somehow."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel fluff #marvel x female reader #x reader fluff #x female reader

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luveline · 4 months

Note

jadey would you please mind giving us more of kbd!steve this season? xxxx

kbd dad!steve and mom!reader fight over christmas pyjamas, 1.4k

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

Steve frowns deeply at you. Another haircut, another day more handsome than before, he pulls off everything, but not…

“Say you like them,” he demands, hooking his thumbs in his pyjama top and pulling it outwards to properly show you the front.

Steve is wearing Christmas pyjamas. The Grinch from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas in all his scrooge glory grins at you evilly against a red background. The pants are white, patterned by red and green drawings of the Grinch holding a Christmas present. He looks much happier from your husband's thighs than the long sleeved shirt.

“Babe, they have cuffs. We're gonna be warm all day,” he says.

“They don't match,” you say, pointing to the Grinch on his leg, who holds a pink gift wrapped in yellow ribbon. “Maybe it's the pink and red throwing me off.”

His frown turns to a pout, the almond shape of his warm brown eyes at a downturn as he says, “You really don't like them.”

You crack like a weak walled chestnut over a flame. “I'm kidding! I'm just messing with you, baby, I love them. They're so Christmas-sy. Did you get some for me?”

His relief is palpable. “I got some for everyone.”

Steve got matching pyjamas for himself, you, the kids, and Robin. He shows you them from a bag on the kitchen table, where you ooh and aah reluctantly. You love him, love everything he does, but you're finally on your holidays vacation and you'd wanted to spend as much of it sitting down as possible. Not that sitting down is possible at home, but you digress.

Steve senses your reluctance with a grumble pressed into the back of your neck, his arms grabbing you from behind. “Alright, I get it! You hate me and your kids and you hate Christmas most of all, whatever. I should've married Tammy Thompson.”

You laugh and lean forward over his arms. “Tammy Thompson wouldn't have wanted a thing to do with you, H, on account of you being a cruel, know-it-all narcissist who forces his exhausted wife off of the couch at every opportunity he–”

“Alright, that's enough.”

Steve squeezes you until you're pleading with him to let you go, a riot of giggles forced from your lungs as he digs his hands into your sides, his fingers practically drilled into your ribs. You call for mercy and he ignores it, muttering about narcissism in your ear. He laughs as you laugh, can't keep up the act.

“Beg for me to stop,” he says.

“Stop!” you say, trying to pull his arms off of your stomach. “Steve, stop it!”

“Say you'll wear the pyjamas.”

“Steve! I'll wear them! Would you–”

“Get off of her!” Bethie shouts, barrelling into the room to push at her dad's legs.

It's so unlike Beth to shout that you both immediately stop fighting. For a split second, you think she's worried that Steve was actually hurting you, but then she laughs as she punches him in the thigh and sticks herself between your breathless bodies, two small arms extended to keep you apart.

When she's sure Steve is done, she wraps her arms around you, looking up into your face with a big smile. “Saved you, mom.”

“You saved me,” you agree, bending down to hug her, “thank you, sweetheart, thank you.” You drop tens of kisses into her hair and face, so many that Steve makes a show of huffing.

“Beth, she deserved it,” he says. “She doesn't wanna wear our matching jammies. Don't you wanna do that?”

She looks at him with those big sorry eyes only young children can master. “Yeah, dad, but…”

“But what?”

“But she's my mom.”

You pull one of the kitchen chairs out and sit down, patting your lap for her to climb up and sit with you. “But I'm her mom,” you sing-song, ever so slightly smug.

“And I'm, what? Cat food?”

“Don't listen to him, baby, he's just jealous.”

Steve turns away from you both, showfully miffed. Bethie giggles and turns into your chest. “He's mad,” she laughs.

“So mad.” You drop your nose into the side of her cheek.

“Are we still having a treat tonight?” she asks.

“Of course we are. It's Christmas! Mom's home, daddy's catching up on his sleep, we're all having cake and ice cream and chocolates until we can't eat anymore,” you promise.

“Wish you were home all the time.”

“Me too, baby,” you say, rubbing her cheek with the tip of your nose slowly. “I wish you could come to work with me. That would be so fun. But we have to make the most of our time away, yeah? Let's have lots and lots of fun.”

“I saved you,” she says, “so maybe I can have extra cake.”

“Beth. You can have as much as you want tonight, I promise.”

“I love Christmas,” she decides.

Steve rushes back into the kitchen with a child under each arm. Dove laughs, her eyes practically sparkling, not a care in the world though she's upside down, and Avery clings to Steve's waist, shouting, “Dad, put me down!” through nervous giggles.

“Tell mom what I told you,” he says.

“Dad, I'm slipping!”

“Avery, you're not slipping. I'm frankly insulted that you think I would drop you. Now tell your mother what we said.”

“Daddy's not a nar-pasit!” Dove says joyfully. “He's a sweetheart.”

“He's a huge narcissist,” you correct in a similar tone.

“He's dropping me!” Avery cries.

Steve shakes her until she screams. “I am not! For Christ's sake, I can curl you like two pound weight, you delinquent! Now.” He takes a deep, fake breath, pulling the two girls higher into his armpits. “Like we rehearsed.”

“I did my turn,” Dove says, reaching out for you, her smile hard to miss even if she is upside down..

“Dad didn't even want to marry that lady,” Avery says, her eyes squeezed closed. Steve chuckles and kisses her head, amused by her silly worry. “He's only ever wanted to be in love with you. And to drop me.”

Steve chokes he laughs so hard, leaning forward and depositing the eldest girl onto two steady feet. “Perfect as always, Ave. And you!” He twists into a shape, Dove's head getting closer and closer to the floor. She couldn't be happier, giggling like she's been tickled the whole while. “You did perfect too, honey.”

“I didn't even bring up that lady,” you say.

Steve and Dove return back to the right way round after some careful manoeuvring. “My bad. Babe. Y/N. I'm sorry, okay? I'm a loser and–” He nudges Dove aside gently to take your hands, your knees, ignoring Beth where she's in the way to kneel in front of you. “I just need you to want to wear these pyjamas as bad as I want you to. So pull it together.”

You put your lips to the shell of Beth's ear. “Should we forgive him?”

“Mmm…” Beth points at Avery. “He has to say sorry for almost dropping Avey.”

“Right.” You nod sagely.

Steve turns to Avery with wide eyes, “You're not actually upset, are you?” he asks, putting out his hand to her.

“My brains are like cranberry sauce,” she says.

He raises his eyebrows, delighted. “Yeah? The thick one from the can?”

Dove climbs under his arm. He pulls her in for a cuddle unthinkingly, but just as quickly she's ducking away from him to walk up to Avery, reaching for her face. Avery leans down obligingly.

Dove pokes her forehead.

“I'm not really jelly!” Avery says, giggling.

“Well, I'm sorry if I scared you almost dropping you,” Steve says, holding his hands together, brown eyes like melting sugar in his pleading. “Can you please forgive me, so mommy will forgive me, and we can put on our new jammies?”

Avery isn't stubborn. “Yeh, okay. I'll forgive you.”

He smiles, turning to you now for the final verdict.

“I already said I'd wear them, Steve,” you say with a grin.

“Oh. Good. Alright.” He climbs to his feet, split from cheek to cheek. “I'm gonna go get the baby. Aw, shit, and the camera. Practise your poses until I come back, angels!”

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lovverletters · 10 months

Text

Yandere! Male Lead

Note that this is a reupload from my previous blog @hyerinrose

A/N : this took so many hours to finish Aghhh. Reblogs, notes and Feedback are appreciated!

T/W : death, yandere behaviour, etc

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

💌 You woke up in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't the bedroom of your friend whom you had fell asleep in. The only memory you had of last night was falling asleep next to your friend's laptop while they were playing the new visual novel 'Flightless Dove'.

🎀 You couldn't have possibly experiencing those 'transmigration' thing in one of those isekai manwha/manga! Those aren't real! At least that's what you thought..

💌 Looking at the full body mirror across from the bed, you let out a sigh of relief. You still have your own features and body. However the picture frames on the bedside table reveals your identity in this new world you have been thrown into,

(Name) (Last Name), best friend of the protagonist and the heir to (Last Name) Corporation.

🎀 With this information, you recount that despite them being a side character, their story is unnecessarily tragic.

You were determined to change their fate.

Routes under the cut!

💌 Choose your route :

🍓The Fiancé 🍓

❣️Yandere! Fiancé whom you were incredibly wary of when you first met him. He was a terrible partner towards the original host, neglectful and rude towards them. Later, falling in love with Celine, the female lead and killing them to be with her.

❣️Yandere! Fiancé who you approached with caution, intending to be acquainted with him in order to hopefully guide him into becoming a normal human being. He was distant and closed off at first, shooing you off but eventually somewhat enjoys your presence.

❣️Yandere! Fiancé who finally begun opening up to you, sharing his troubles and worries with you, how angry he was at his parents for setting up this engagement without his knowledge. It's almost as if the two of you were actually lovers :)

❣️Yandere! Fiancé who falls in love with you, hard. The previous cold hearted man now replaced with a lovesick puppy who follows you around at any chance given. Always gifting you things he came across while on a business trips as a show of his affection. It's to also serve as his claim over you, that you belong to him, that you are his fiancé.

❣️Yandere! Fiancé who completely ignores the female lead numerous attempts at mingling with him. He's a faithful man, he had promised himself to you, so why should he tolerate this woman's presence any longer? Should he just kill her already? She's pissing him off greatly.

❣️Yandere! Fiancé who were envious of your friends, he wanted to be the only one you look at, the only one who you'd smile at and laugh with. Why are you giving away what's rightfully his to nobodies??

❣️"Promise me you'll never leave me, cause if you do, I wouldn't know what I'd do.."

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

🍒The Childhood Friend🍒

❣️Yandere! Childhood Friend who's the only person you liked in the game as he's only one who stuck by the original host's side through thick and thin. Even attempting to avenge them after their death.

❣️Yandere! Childhood Friend who were surprised by your attitude towards him- not that he was against it- you were more animated and affectionate with him, it made his heart flutters everytime you complimented or gave him a hug. Have you finally reciprocate his feelings for you?

❣️Yandere! Childhood Friend who were in love with you ever since the two of you were kids. He was a loner that nobody wanted to befriend until you came along, suddenly there was a crowd of kids wanting to be friends with him. They don't matter to him though, in his eyes, you're the only friend he needed.

❣️Yandere! Childhood Friend who were incredibly jealous and resentful towards your fiancé! He was such a lucky man to be engage to you yet stupid enough to not see your worth. Can't he sees how beautiful and intelligent you are? How amazing you are compare to him??

❣️Yandere! Childhood Friend who were aware that he wasn't your only admirer. While he had been successful in scaring away your other suitors, the protagonist and even your fiancé weren't as easy. They too share the same strong feelings he have for you. And they weren't going to back down anytime soon.

❣️Though just like them, he too wouldn't be giving up on you. He was tired of seeing you with someone who's undeserving of you, who doesn't know how to treat you right.

❣️"You're the sunshine to my lonely self you know that, (Name)? I love you :)"

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

⚘️The Protagonist⚘️

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who were the original host's best friend besides their childhood friend. He was your stereotypical main character, he was charming, attractive and powerful. Despite that, he still stuck around them until Celine came along.

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who you were determined to keep as an ally. After all the downfall of the original (Name) was because of a falling out between them and the protagonist. By having him as your friend, your chances of surviving this mad world is increased!

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who just like your childhood friend was surprised at your change of attitude towards him. He was used to your stoic and closed off self but was happy with your positive changes!

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who's feelings for you grow rapidly as days went by. He can't put a finger to what exactly it was about you that pulled him in. Was it your infectious laughter? Or your odd sense of humour that he can't help but adore you for? Your intelligence that never fails to amaze him?

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who were absolutely smitten by you that he ignores practically everyone including the female lead whom he's supposed to fall in love with. Nobody else is as important as you are to him. So why should he bother be around them when he can be with you instead? :)

❣️Yandere! Protagonist who despite his reputation as being kind and charming to others, would not hesitate to murder for you. Though he hasn't committed any, he is guilty of sending threats towards your other admirers. Unfortunately, your fiancé and childhood friend aren't as easy to rid of unlike like your other suitors.

❣️Too bad for them, he's not one to give up once he sets his eyes on something. He'll do whatever it takes if it meant that you'll be in his arms at the end of the day.

❣️"(Name), I hope you know how important you are to me. I love you now and forever"

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

Part 2 coming soon?

#yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #tw: yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling

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kittykattropicanna · 4 months

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would you please be able to go into more detail about your prison penpal!simon? why is reader doing it, how did they choose simon (if they had a choice at all), the sorts of letters they exchange? and if they’re any sort of smutty bits for them too? your mechanic au has me absolutely feral beyond words so seeing this made me so excited.

Omg you’re my first asked AHHHHHH I want to scream thank you so much!!!!!

Absolutely I can go into detail about PrisonPenPal!Simon :3 I can't get out of my mind how deprived he is argh!!! >:( all this time alone, and now that you're here writing him pretty little letters, he can't imagine life without you :3

TW: mentions of murder, jail, corruption kink, breading kink, masterbation (Reader & Simon), public masterbation (kinda), smut, not sub!simon but he does cum in his pants, ahhh you're both just so obsessed with each other :3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

I’ll give you a little back story to why Si actually ended up in jail…

I feel like he retied, left SAS and tried to integrate back into civilian life but failed miserably. He started going out to bars and drinking pretty heavily. The alcohol made him angry, he never was outwardly violent, but everyone could tell he was just a very dark, tortured guy that sat in the back of the bar every night and drank himself stupid. It was like an unwritten rule that nobody bothered him. His a massive guy who’s ex military, if you had half a brain you would leave him alone.

One night he was leaving the pub and this stupid, stupid 18 year old kid thought it would be funny to try square up to him and impress his friends.

It didn’t matter how many times they told him to quit it and leave Simon alone, he still trudged up to him with his head held high and chest puffed.

This kid came up behind Si and punched him in that back of the head. It wasn’t a good punch by any means but it was more then enough to drive Simons drunk brain into utter rage.

He turned around and punched this kid straight in the head. He went down like a stack of bricks, head making direct impact with the concrete floor, killing him instantly.

The kid was only 18, he had so much life left to live…..

Of course Si felt absolutely disgusted in himself, he couldn’t believe what he had done. Killed a poor kid who made a stupid decision and ultimately ended his life as well.

He handed himself over the the police without hesitation. He went quietly and respectfully, cooperated with the police throughout the whole trial, never redirecting blame onto the kid or made it harder then it needed to be.

He pled guilty for involuntary manslaughter and assault. Gaz, Johnny and Price all pitched in to get him the best defence lawyer humanly possible……ultimately, it worked. Even though the general public was outraged at his light sentence.

Simons lawyer claimed the punch was in self defence. Someone attacking him from behind also trigged his PTSD resulting in Simon not being able to control his actions in that moment.

These defences along with him serving in the military for 15+ years and cooperating with the authorities got him 8 years in prison, his sentence was quickly reduced to 4 because of his good behaviour.

It wasn’t an ideal situation by any means, but it was the best case scenario with the cards he was dealt.

But lets fast forward to the present….. How did you decide to actually start writing to an inmate? How did you even find out about it?

I have this really cute idea that maybe you were walking through the shopping centre and there was one of those pop up markets that sit in the middle of everything, you know, with the really annoying people that flag you down and you have to awkwardly not make eye contact and walk past them while they’re try and sell you stuff?

Yeah, one of them. This specific stand kinda caught your eye though, It was called “Write An Inmate”

You talked to the guy at the stand about what exactly “Write An Inmate” was and he explained that he was part of the program when he was locked up, how much it helps inmates get through their sentence, helps connect them to the outside world and genuinely just keeps them hopeful.

First off you were a little hesitant…..speaking to someone who’s in jail because they broke the law sounded a little scary….

But hell, its a start of a new year and taking some time out of your day every once in a while to write a short letter to help keep someones hopes up is the least you can do.

Besides! One of your childhood best friends big brothers went to jail and he wasn’t a bad guy! One of your new years resolutions was to spread more kindness and this is just a perfect way to do so!

Once you got home, you look up the website on the brochure that was given to you and quickly start scrolling through inmates.

They all had profiles with information about them. You couldn’t see what they were in for, but you could see other information like their name, age, date they signed up for the program, time served/time until they get out, amount of letters they have received, a short description of who they are/what they like and a few photos showcasing what they look like.

You scrolled through a few but they all seemed to have gotten hundreds of letters, you wanted to write someone who wasn’t getting flooded every week with letters, maybe send a letter to someone who could use a pick me up.

Clicking on the last page you scrolled to the very bottom and click on the last inmate before it even had time to load.

Once the page opened the name “Simon Riley” appeared on your screen

After looking through his profile a wave of sadness rolled over you

Name: Simon Riley, most people call me Ghost Age: 36 Joined: December 26th, 2021 Letters Received: 0 Time served: 3 and a half years Sentence ends: Year and a half Description: ex military. I like dogs, big ones not small ones, the outdoors, playing cards and motorcycles. The first thing I want to do when I get out is to eat a steak.

Attached was three photos. I won’t even lie, they’re definitely dad selfies from different angles HAHAHA they’re such grainy photos too, like they’ve been taken on a 10 year old android.

Two of the selfies are him with a black balaclava on and the last one was of his face without anything covering it, but again it so grainy you can’t really make his facial features out.

Simon had joined the program two years ago and hadn't received one letter. You felt horrible, he joined the day after Christmas probably hoping to receive something, anything, but not one person took the time to write him…..

So obviously Simon was going to be your prisoner pen pal, how could he not be…..

I think the letters start off pretty innocently tbh, you don’t start writing to Simon with the intention of starting any sort of sexual or romantic relationship, it truly is out of the goodness of you’re heart, you sweet girl :(

Simon had totally forgotten about the program honestly, imagine his shock when the prison guard threw him a letter.

When he frowned and asked who its from the guard just shrugged and said “write an inmate program” and walked off completely unfazed.

But again, starts out super innocent, things like “I saw that you like big dogs, what’s your favourite breed?” and “what’s your favourite card game? I know how to play blackjack but I’m not very good haha”

I’d like to think you don’t even disclose your gender or name at the start. Keeping everything under lock and key.

Simon also answers back with pure intentions at first, he has an inkling you may be a women because the hand writing is wayyy to pretty and delicate to come from a man.

But again! He doesn’t get his hopes up, it could be an old granny for all he knows, but he can’t shake the idea that maybeeeee it could be someone a little more his type, ya know ;)

After a couple weeks of writing letters back and forth you feel like you’re getting to know him a little better. He asks you to call him Simon, not Ghost and he starts writing the cheesiest dad jokes at the bottom of every letter.

“Two fish are in a tank, one turns to the other and asks “do you know how to drive this thing?” a little army humour for ya’ :)”

His so charming in such a rough and rugged sort of way you know? It sounds silly to say, I mean, you’ve never met him! But the way his handwriting is complete chicken scratch and how he adds little “:)” “:(“ and “>:)” makes you giggle!

You end up telling him your name and how old you are, I mean, its only fair! You know his name! You definitely didn’t tell him because you wanted to get his mind racing, get him thinking about all the different possibilities, make him fantasize…

Its fair to say you have a little crush on him :( ahhhh its so humiliating! A city girl like you, good job, successful family and a bright future laying in bed every night fucking your pussy with a brand new dildo you bought just so you could imagine Simon, a felon, fucking your little cunt :(

When Simon sent his letter that week asking for a photo of you, your little crush just got bigger :(

“Its only fair don’t ya’ think? You know what I look like, why don’t ya’ return the favour sweetpea ;)”

And of course you did!! He asked so politely!

Putting on your pushup bra, doing your makeup and styling your hair all for him:(((

You get so frustrated because you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard for him, argh! Its all so embarrassing!! Your such a needy girl >:(

You make sure to push up your tits, your bra helping them spill out over your cute little shirt and giving him a good view of your gorgeous body.

After an hour of taking photos you finally get the shot you were looking for

Eyes sparkling, cute little smile on your lips, light hitting your face just right, lacy bra slightly peaking out the top of your shirt just enough that it looks like an accident, beautiful tits sitting right in frame so he can get a good look and the slight curve of your waist visible.

Its perfect, it look so effortless…..in your eyes at least

When Si received your letter, his cock got hard the second he saw your picture :((((

Since his been locked up he hasn’t been able to jerk off properly >:(

His balls are so heavy as is, and now he has a photo of you

He could basically cum in his pants at the thought of holding your waist as you ride him. Using his big callused hands to fuck your pretty pussy onto his aching cock >>:((((((

You’re so put together! nice clothes, from the look of the background, nice apartment, clean bedroom. Just the thought of him corrupting you, fucking his baby into you, making you move into a shitty little apartment while he works and you look after his chubby baby makes his dick start to twitch :3

Before he can stop himself, he cums all in his pants :(

He hasn’t cum properly in years! yet a simple photo of you did it for him in seconds!!! You’re such a nasty minx, you know exactly what you’re doing you dirty girl >>:(

That night he lays under the covers, his cell mate fast asleep on the other side of the room as he slowly pumps his cock to the photo of you.

Eyes closed and head thrown back against the thin pillow, he bites his lip so he doesn’t make any noise.

You see, playboy magazines get passed around all the time, they’re not hard to find if you know the right people, but it just doesn’t do it for Si!!

Of course they’re beautiful women, there’s no doubt about it, but everything so photoshopped :(

Si likes his women natural. No skin smoothing filters or enhancements from photoshop, he likes his women real

His so deprived that he cums in record time, his hot load shooting all over your face, the once clean photo now sticky and stained….

He wished he had it in him to be embarrassed, but he just can’t! God, he needs to hear your voice, your picture just isn’t enough anymore….

In his next letter he asks if he could use his monthly call to speak to you……Johnnys just gonna have to wait, they can talk football another time >:(

Aghhhh, PrisonPenPal!Simon is so fucking cocky it hurtssss, PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

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