#maybe not as fast as i wanted but what can ya do

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 13)

Masterpost

Danny was holding Jason’s hand so tight he felt like his fingers were creaking but Jason wasn’t about to say anything. They were waiting in the doctor's office for Danny’s first ultrasound and Jason was accompanying him as promised, if Danny needed to squeeze his hand that was what Danny needed to do then so be it, it was better the bolting, which it looked like he was considering. Leslie didn’t usually make people wait long but when she had an emergency she had an emergency, it didn’t matter that Bruce funded her clinic, and was sitting awkwardly in one corner, they could wait.

It had been decided that as Danny’s guardian and maybe boyfriend? Bruce and Jason would be the ones to go in with him, with Danny’s agreement of course. Jazz and Dick had both wanted to come too but they didn’t want to crowd the room or overwhelm Danny so it was decided they would stay close by but not come In. Just then they were waiting together at a cafe across the road in case they were needed.

“Alright, I’m sorry to keep you both waiting but you know how Gotham is,” Leslie said a little grim-faced and still stripping off bloody gloves as she walked into their room and tossed them into the trash can. “So, Danny right,” Danny nodded. “Will you come with me into a private room for your examination?” She asked, because of course she did, the phrasing too was carefully worded to not put him on the spot so if Danny was feeling at all threatened or uncomfortable about Jason and Bruce being there he wouldn’t be blamed for following her. 

“You don’t have to,” She added quickly when Danny looked panicked and clung to Jason so tight Jason couldn’t help wincing. “We can move forward with the appointment if them being here makes you more comfortable?” 

Danny nodded quickly so she nodded as well and sat down at her desk, opening a file on her computer. “So, you’re here for an ultrasound right?” She glanced over and Danny nodded again, he seemed to be feeling really shy, Jason had never seen him so nervous, Bruce looked worried. “But it says here you haven’t had a check up in years so would you mind if we do a general exam first? I would like to make sure that You are healthy before we move on to the babies.”

“Yes that’s fine, but you know I’m not fully human right?” Danny asked, she paused for barely a moment. 

“I was told you had some differences,” she confirmed gingerly. “What should I expect?”

“Well, my heart rate is naturally slower than it used to be, and my body temperature is lower. Like I get to ‘healthy human’ temperatures when I have a bad fever. I don’t know what else has changed, honestly. I’ve been avoiding the doctor ever since my accident because I knew how my parents would react,” he said sounding tired and resigned.

“Well then we’ll take today as a paceline and monitor changes. If you’re feeling well today?” She suggested, she probably would have liked to get a baseline before Danny was pregnant but obviously that was impossible. 

“Ya that’s fine, my heartrate is probably a bit fast because I’m nervous but I’m probably healthier then I’ve been in a while. I haven’t been getting into fights and I’ve been eating regularly after all!”

“Alright. I understand but there’s no need to be nervous. This is a safe environment, I won’t do anything that’s not medically necessary.”

“I know, if Bruce and Jason didn’t speak so highly of you I wouldn’t be here. They don’t seem to see eye to eye on much so if they both trust and like you you must be good,” Danny said with a little smile though he was still tense and pale. That anxiety wasn’t going anywhere fast. In the corner Brace gave a sort of strangled cough that had Jason glaring at him even though he didn’t really know what it meant.

“Alright, then let’s get started,” She said before she started Danny’s check-up, all of the normal things a doctor would do if a bit more thorough. Checking eyes, mouth, ears, heart and lungs, and reflexes, circulation and blood pressure. His heartbeat was slow and his blood pressure was low but Danny thought that was probably normal for him? She gave an unconvinced hum. “We’ll have weekly check ups and check it again then. If it’s sustained and doesn’t affect you then we can say it’s normal for you.” She agreed. 

“Alright, well based on the information you’ve told me I think we’ve established a baseline and you’re healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?” She asked and Danny took a deep breath, Jason, still standing next to Danny, squeezed his hand gently.

“Ya, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny agreed. 

“Thank you, just lay back and pull up your shirt please,” Dr. Leslie requested and Danny did as she’d asked as she pulled up the little monitor and set things up. In the background Bruce shifted so he could see the screen better. “There won’t be much to see,” Leslie warned, shooting Bruce a look as she applied the ultrasound gel. “It’s still too early.”

She put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the wand, “Alright, let's have a look.” She said, pressing it carefully against Danny’s stomach. 

Danny had let go of Jason’s hand while he lay down but now he grabbed around for Jason again, without looking away from the screen now showing inside his abdomen. Jason stepped closer and grabbed Danny’s hand, looking at his face rather than anything else, monitoring for signs the trepidation there might be getting to be too much. He knew Danny was nervous, but they didn’t want this to progress into a panic attack. 

“There they are. Oh! Two, twins. You’re further along than I expected, 10 weeks by the looks of it?” She asked glancing at Danny who nodded. 

“Ya, I’ve only been carrying them for 6 but they’re test tube babies,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Ah,” She sounded, nodding her understanding. “The little round things below their hearts are odd. Do they have two hearts? No, those ones aren’t beating…”

“Those are their cores,” Danny murmured before it seemed to hit him and he looked at Jason, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god I AM actually pregnant, it’s not just the cores, I’m pregnant, oh my god I’m pregnant,” he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Dr. Leslie pulled back and Danny practically threw himself into Jason’s arm who held him tight as Danny hid against his chest and trembled. “Do you want us to call Jazz?” Jason offered softly as he held Danny and let him cry.

“No don’t go,” Danny hiccuped against Jason’s chest. 

“I’ll call Jazz,” Bruce added, of course. He would want to help, he did care, but he never had any actual idea how to help. The emotionally unavailable bastard. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Dr. Leslie asked gently. “I would like to have a better look at the twins to check on their development but if you need time I can come back later, or even another day.”

“Just-just give me a minute, please,” Danny sniffled as Jason rubbed his back.

“Of course. I know this is overwhelming,” Leslie said gently. 

Jazz barged into the room and immediately hugged Danny a well, sandwiched safely between her and Jason. “Scruff him, it’ll help,” she told Jason, who nodded and squeezed the back of Danny’s neck. 

He shuddered and then started to relax between the two of them, basically letting the two taller, and trusted, people hold him up. His sobs turned into sniffles and then a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay I think I’m ready. I want to know that they’re okay too. I know their cores are developing well but if they have human bodies, we need to make sure those are healthy too right?” 

“Right. Do you want me to stay, or do you want Bruce to come back in?” Jazz asked gently. 

“No, you and Jason stay please,” Danny said softly. He had thought it was right for Bruce to come in as his guardian, but it was Jazz who had really been looking after him for years. “There’s not much to see right now, just little blobs. We’ll tell him how it goes.”

Danny took another breath and then squirmed out of both of their arms and went to lay back on the table, pulling up his shirt again. Jason stood next to the examination table, taking Danny’s hand again, Jazz went and sat on the table by Danny’s head and stroked his hair while Dr. Leslie applied fresh jelly to his stomach since it had been worn off during his panic attack. Jason might have to change his shirt after this.

“Alright, let’s have another look shall we?” She said with a warm smile as she pressed the wand against his stomach again. She found the babies again fairly easily. “They seem to be sticking pretty close together,” She said with a little smile. “They’re active little things! It’s far too early to tell anything else about them but from what you’ve told me they seem to be on track and developing properly,” She said, pulling back and offering Danny a cloth to clean the gel off his stomach.

“Do you mind if we call Bruce back in? As your guardian I’d like him to be here for you treatment plan?” She asked.

“Sure, makes sense,” Danny agreed with a nod. 

She nodded back and looked at Jazz, who nodded as well and ducked out to get Bruce. “While we’re mostly alone I want to know, do you know all your options Danny? You know you don’t have to carry them. They’re just embryos right now, not even conscious. Your health and safety comes first,” Dr. Leslie told him gently. She knew Jason was firmly pro-choice.

“No, I know,” Danny said with a little smile and a nod, looking down at his stomach and gently caressing it. “I know I don’t Have to do this. But I do want them. I’m already attached to them, you know?” He said looking up at her, worried that she would judge him. He hoped he was making the right choice, that he wasn’t ruining his life at 16 or something. Fuck he could be on that trashy tv show! 

“I understand,” She assured, no hint of judgment on her face. Of course not, if she could treat rogues without judgment she sure as hell wasn’t going to judge a teen parent. She glanced up as the door opened again and Bruce and Jazz entered. “Right,” Leslie said, sitting down at her computer and starting to type. “You’re still a little malnourished so I’d like to get you taking prenatal vitamins immediately,” she said, glancing up to see Danny nod. “With your unique condition I’d like to see you more often than usual, weekly visits would be best for now. Once we’re sure you and the babies are okay we can go down to every other week.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Danny said, shifting nervously. “I mean you say the human side is looking good, and my ghost doctor says they’re developing well on that side, if slower than usual. I don’t need to come in every week,” He said looking hopeful. 

She hesitated for a moment, organizing her thoughts and considering his words. “Even so, there’s clearly some bleed over that makes it hard to tell how healthy you are. I would feel better if you came weekly, at least for the first month so we can establish a true baseline.” 

“Alright,” Danny said, drooping again, looking back at Bruce. “Can you make the appointment? I want to go home.”

“Sure Danny,” Bruce agreed, pulling out his planner to check their schedule. 

“I’ll take you back to the manor,” Jason assured, using his grip on Danny’s hand to help him up. 

“I’ll go back to the cafe with Dick, we were having a good conversation, I wouldn’t mind continuing it,” She said, giving Danny a smile. “Unless you want me to come?”

“No, that’s alright. Have fun Jazz,” Danny said, leaning against Jason and letting him usher Danny out of the clinic. Jazz waved as she crossed to the cafe where Dick was waiting, looking worried till he noticed them, then he smiled and waved. Jazz waved back and jogged across, about to tell Dick all about the twins no doubt. 

Jason led Danny to his bike, and got on first, pulling Danny onto the seat behind him. Danny wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed against his back, half hiding from the world. Jason didn’t try to talk to him, he needed time to process. He would talk when he was ready to.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #fanfiction #trans!danny #trans pregnancy #teen pregnancy #dead on main #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #dick grayson #eldest daughter syndrome #that's what Dick and Jazz are called as a ship right? #finally getting help AU #Danny is pregnant #tw dysphoria

[callmegaith]

your real honest opinion on David's character. GO!

I feel like this implies I've been trolling everyone for the past 6 years about how much I love this silly lil guy. Is there supposed to be a /j at the end of that, anon??

Bestie I would not put this much effort into a troll ever 😭 like do you think I sat there and made a whole comic series for a funny little gag??

In case this is genuine tho:

LONG READ AHEAD

cuz of course. You give me the chance to talk about David and I'll TALK

My real honest opinion on David

Paradise

Silly funny fella. Goofy as hell. I think you can read David's attitude multiple different ways in Paradise. To some he comes off as just an asshole

To others he's just a kid being a kid

I personally read his character as somewhat sarcastic and spiteful towards Jakob. His smile? Sarcastic. His "it's been a while brother"? Sarcastic. "I hope I'm not the one who died tonight" while knowing full well it ain't him? Sarcastic.

I'll talk about this more later when I talk about Mr. Rabbit!David.

David has the characteristics of most youngest siblings; He's annoying, he's childish, maybe a little spoiled and needy for attention too.

Not to jump ahead in this analysis and all but in Birthday, the box he needs has text on it that reads "hungry ghost", "ghost who is unable to be reborn" or preta. They're often spirits of people who died full of greed and jealousy. In Japanese, a preta is also "a spoiled child" or "brat"

Based on that information I thought maybe David was jealous of Jakob cuz he wanted to be the golden boy, ya know?

Tldr;

Paradise!David is just a funny lil guy who most likely harbors negative feelings towards Jakob who overshadowed him despite not even being there.

Mr. Rabbit

Who David is now. An older more mature David. Something clicked in his brain and he realized 'okay actually we're all fucked. Peace out guys I'm looking out for myself.'

Brown Rabbit:

I feel like he represents the last bit of David's naivety, innocence, and child-like spirit. The white rabbit (David from the future) sees that rabbit get killed from the window. He can no longer deny what's happening. The child within him he used to retreat to when things got bad is dead. There's only the white rabbit now

I feel like that's also something represented in David's masks

The older he gets, the more devoid of joy he becomes

He becomes more and more aware of his situation.

As a child, you have the blessing of ignorance. That's why the world feels like a safer more colorful place to you until you grow up and you can no longer protected and shielded from the world.

To me, I think that's where David's trauma comes from. His ageing and how fast he's had to grow up and become a man, despite his attempts to remain a child.

In paradise, it's likely he was still pretty much "fingers in ears going LALALALALA" with his eyes closed tightly.

Brown rabbit is all that remained of his ignorance, and now it's gone, leaving behind only the White Rabbit. The David that knows and acknowledges the cruelty of his life. A ghost of his former self.

Speaking of:

White Rabbit

What are we but the products of our traumas and life experiences.

The white rabbit, David from the future, is on a journey to save his soul and be reborn. Obviously, the goal of all the corrupted souls. There is a soul we know succeeded in that and was, in fact, reborn. And that soul is Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was the collateral damage in a battle she had no hand in. She is probably the most innocent victim in all of this family feud going on, and I think because of that, Jakob allowed her to be reborn.

Something he did not allow David to do. I think it's safe to say Jakob and David do not like each other. Seems like David's plans clash with Jakob's and so he has to be taken out of the picture, and yet, David always seems like he has tricks up his sleeve.

Somehow, David is able to go back in time to save himself. What happens after that? We don't know yet

You could argue that he failed and died in the blue cube memory of Birthday. Or that he is simply still out there rn waiting for his story to be told. Both are true cuz that's the nature of Rusty Lake.

David seems to be on his own grand journey, stuck in his own Paradox, desperate to find a way to he reborn.

The thing that stands out of course is David's corrupted soul, or rather, the many different forms of it:

This is probably due to there being multiple different David(s) from the paradoxes he's lived through.

But what is the White Rabbit David if the brown rabbit is David's reborn Asura? Is the white rabbit not his Asura too?

Hard to say. We never seen a corrupted soul take form like David's white rabbit one before, and even more than that, one that retains autonomy. After all, David had enough control over himself to write and leave Dale a letter, meaning he is fully aware of what he is doing. Yet he is prone to violence the way regular corrupted souls are.

It's likely the white rabbit is an advanced form of a corrupted soul, probably the last stages before rebirth.

That or.... Well.... It's just a mask. After all, in Paradox, David spoke with a regular human voice over the phone, meaning he was not a corrupted soul.

In that case tho, if he was already reborn... Why did he say he needed to escape his current "hungry ghost" state?

Obviously Paradox is the most unreliable game narratively cuz you're just going through Dale's jumbled up memories. It's likely he's just recalling an actual conversation he had with David on the phone at the time (which still makes no sense cuz that would mean at the time David was still a human. Or it means he's recalling some conversation he had with David at some point in his life, not necessarily Birthday. OR... That's just a memory the machine is feeding him and it never really happened. Point is, paradox can't be used as a fact for anything)

Timeline is fuuuucked when it comes to David's story so uuuh

We don't know where he is now, what actually happened to him, or wtf is going on with him.

What we do take from his whoooole story tho:

Conclusion

(you did it, chat. You made it this far into my rambly post!!)

David is a really cool and very interesting character that might not appear to be so on the surface. You only really get how complex his character is when you think of everything that has happened in the games. He has a story that is either left for us to piece together or is still not yet fully explored.

To me, David is a character born of defiance and rebelliousness, as well as the need for survival and self-preservation. He is someone who has challenged his own fate, knowing damn well he's up against higher powers, but still taking the chance to save his soul. He is resilient, and stubborn, and just won't accept his fate and die. He has challenged his position in the food chain, a rabbit who is meant to be at the bottom, proving that he should not be underestimated. To me, that's worth loving and admiring. AND IM CHEERING HIM ON! GO DAVID! GO! IM SO PROUD OF YOU MY SON!!

And that's my real honest opinion on David

Thank you for reading.

#asks! #RL: lore and theories #fandom: rusty lake #david eilander #theres so much i have to say about this guy #you have no idea #i have so many thoughts #i wish i could structure this better #like a proper study #but 😭😭😭 #hhh i love him sm

[szkicel]

Ok i’m scheduling some art I’ve done in the past while I work on new things and I remembered that Queen Bee (from h/lluva b/ss) redesign I did a year ago when a lot of ppl were doing it and it’s probably time to post it before it gets too old…

man, I am NOT excited for all the harassment I’m gonna endure from the unhinged HB fans, but hopefully I’m too small of an artist to get noticed so maybe i’ll be fine

#rambling #my posts #helluva boss critical #tagging it as such so ya won’t be able to complain that I „didn’t properly tag the hate” or sth #I had also a wip of ALMOST FINISHED 2nd redesign where I was basically just making my own take on the Beelzebub #that I can use outside of H//B f/nart (like I can easily put it in my game project) #but for some reason I never sat down to properly finish it bc the lineart was killing me #bc you see I used to do this very annoying thing where instead of drawing lineart on a seperate layer #I was just erasing and „sculpting” the messy sketch layer until it looked good #Which maybe would look good in a different brush but nah it was the default smooth brush #I thought this method would be faster bc „well at least i’m not drawing the lines from scratch” #but when you have messy sketches the cleaning up process gets very tedious very fast #so at some point I was just fed up and had a break that turned too long and by that point my artstyle #changed too much and I didn’t want to touch my old work; bc I like to preserve my progress #(which means no messing with works and wips that are older than a month) #anyway i’m getting off topic #so uh; i guess if you like redesigns you’re in for a treat #if not then well i hope we can resolve this diplomatically #and to anyone asking if i’m actually a fan of the show - no i’m not; it was a guilty pleasure to a certain point until it was unbearable #I really hate both h///b and h/////h so don’t ask me any opinions on them bc i’m gonna be very mean 😭😭😭 #all i’m gonna say is my opinions aren’t groundbreaking or anything; i can’t really say what hasn’t already been said

[bratfiction]

why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty headcanons #cod headcanons

[kuiinncedes]

wow

#the way idk how to do anything on this hw due tomorrow and all the office hours are during my other classes 🤩🤩 #super considering going to a different section for one of my classes tomorrow which i think is maybe not allowed rn but idk for sure #but then i can go to some fucking office hours which i rly need TT #lowkey im kinda like what if i just cant do this class TT the stats classes move so fucking fast and idk what's going lmfao #and i have this intimidating cs class that everyone complains about the workload for that i need to focus on too <333 #and i dont know anyone in this class yay (idk anyone in any of my classes but ya know) #what if i take the L on this hw and have my first hw be the lowest score which is dropped 🤩 #as if im gonna do better on other ones but hopefully i can figure something out w future hws and the few office hours i Can go to ;-; #im stressed abt this rn and i dont want to think about it LMAO #jeanne talks #why do i fucking keep taking classes like this TT o right it's my fucking major and the deparmtent sucks <3 #how do i ask a question on piazza in a way that makes the prof give me as much of the answer as possible <333

[slowbison]

Could you write reader Fucking Miguel and leaving him full of cum and desperate while having a cage on getting so desperate and needy and then making him go to meetings and patrols

And could it be villain reader

a/n: your mind is yummyyyy, never thought of villain reader. well i kinda did, but ur's activated a deep part of my brain that was like yeahh this one. anyway, hope ya like :]

Bottom! Miguel O'Hara x Villain! Male Reader

words: 2.6k

warnings: humiliation, anal sex, butt plug, chastity device (cock cage), smut

“We really should go out on a date sometime, hm?” You said, rolling your hips with a particularly sharp thrust into the trembling man. The man was bent over a desk, claws gripping the desk and kept spewing out broken cries as you fucked him.

“Please let me cum, I-I can’t take it anymore.. please!” He begged, wailing as you continued to rock in him.

Your eyes darkened and grabbed the back of his head, rubbing his head into the desk. “I warned you Spidey not to be late or I’ll blow up everyone in that damned bank,” You leaned down, snarling in his ear and picked up the pace, fucking him harder into the desk.

Miguel arched his back and a silent cry escaped his mouth, clenching around your cock harder. He could feel his eyes roll to the back of his head as you continued your relentless pace, digging your hand into his head and hips. You groaned at the feeling of his tight ass, sucking you in deeper. “Haha, it’s a good thing that Nueva’s number one whore will do anything to protect them, right darling?”

Shame and arousal coursed within Miguel as you reminded the man how he got to this predicament.

It had been another night of patrolling Nueva York, he was alone this time around which meant his pace of dealing with criminals slowed. During one of his fights, he forgot the arrangement made between you and him on meeting at a specific location. He only realized after the fight, hearing a loud explosion in the distance that you were upset at his delayed arrival. Making his way as fast as he could, he found you standing at the top of a bank, detonator in hand. Spider-Man knew that only the left side of the bank that had no civilian’s was blown and he revealed himself, carefully walking closer to you and the tied up woman at his feet.

“Oh! Spider-Man, so good of you to finally join us,” You sneered at him, stepping over the hostage under your foot.

“V/n, let the girl go. It’s me that you want, not her.”

You huffed at the man and picked up the woman off the floor by her hair, shoving the detonator in her face. She cried harder and screamed every time the button was slightly pressed up against her cheek, desperately staring at the hero. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested in pets that refuse orders” You spoke plainly, moving your hand to the woman’s face, gripping it in your palm. “Maybe I should take this one and train it properly, hm? She’d make a fine slut don’t you think?” You purred, wiping the woman’s tears away with your thumb as she cried harder.

Miguel was about to take another step before you angrily jabbed the detonator in his direction.

“One more fucking step and everyone blows up right now, stay back.” You hissed, the woman began to tremble more and pleaded to be let go. “Look what you’ve done Spidey! The poor lamb is so scared”

“You can do anything you want with me, just let her go V/n.”

“Anything?” You mused.

“Heh, fine then. Catch,” You laughed, shoving the detonator in the woman's mouth and throwing her off the building. Miguel jumped to save her, wrapping his arms around her and landed on the floor. Taking the device out of her mouth, quickly disarming it before looking back up, only to find you had disappeared.

Gritting his teeth, Miguel went to chase after you, leaving the woman and the police force to handle the rest of the situation. He caught up to you, jumping from rooftops and hovering cars before slipping through an alleyway.

Still hot on your tail, Miguel clawed on the walls of the alley, but felt a strong tug on his foot that slammed him into an old abandoned office, a dark snicker coming from above him. Miguel felt his anger rising and began trading blows with you. Punching you square on the face while you kicked at his side, watching as he tumbled into a corner. He growled, claws protruding as he pounced at you once more, blocking his claws with your knife.

The fight continued for some time, both of men bleeding from cuts and bruised from the battle. You had the hero’s chest pinned against the desk and arms clasped in your grip, rutting against his ass, groaning at the feeling. Miguel returning your grinding with his own, stifled a low whine behind his clenched teeth hoping to stop any noises from escaping. You laughed at his attempt to stop himself from giving you the pleasure that he enjoyed your toying.

“Why hide that you’re enjoying this slut? If you give me your ass, I could do much more than just this, darling” You cooed, giving him a particular strong thrust, a small whine slipping past his lips.

“Or should I disable it for you?”

Miguel craned his neck to look at you and tensed, before the pixels covering his ass dissipated, revealing that he had nothing on underneath. You grinned, slithering your hand from his arms to grab a handful of his cheeks. “Not even wearing anything decent underneath, you really love to give easy access to anyone that promises to fuck you” You said, kneading the mound in your hands then slapping it, repeating the action a few more times. Each slap eliciting a small groan or moan that got progressively louder as you hit harder.

“Don’t mind if I do then, doll.”

Was all Miguel remembered as for the next few minutes you began your assault on him. Eating and pounding his ass into the hard desks while he tried, but failed to maintain some dignity as if he wasn’t just some shameless whore moaning and begging for one of the city's notorious villains. Leading to the current situation where he’s been begging to cum after you’ve denied his requests multiple times, citing that he should just be a good whore and take what he gets.

Your breath hitched as you mercilessly pounded into him, soon to reach your own pleasure. Miguel let out a wanton cry as his vision turned white, body trembling, trying to contain his desire to cum all over the desk. The sight of how the man squirms underneath you spurs you on, balls tighten as you fucked into him as roughly as you could.

Miguel begging slurred as he barely managed any coherent word. Leading to the quivering man’s orgasm wrenched from him with a drawled moan, spilling all over the desk with some dripping to the floor. Realizing that he failed to adhere to your command, he clenched around your shaft in hopes for your forgiveness.

You grit your teeth at the action and thrusted harder, slamming into the man continuously then stilled as your cum coated his walls. Letting out a deep groan as emptied inside, determined to fill him full. Miguel pitifully whined at the feeling, even more so when you left. You returned with a plug in your hand and eased it into him, hearing him softly groan at the intrusion.

Miguel began to catch his breath, loosening his grip on the desk now that he no longer needed to hold on for life at the force of your thrusts.

“Oh don’t relax just yet doll, we’re not done here” You grinned, flipping him on his back. Miguel didn’t put up a fight as you manhandled him, only getting curious when he felt cold metal encase his flaccid cock.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Miguel hissed at the cold feeling, lifting his body off the desk to get a better look.

“I’ve decided to extend our little session together Spidey, extending your punishment” You muttered, adjusting the chastity device around his cock, a pleased hum as it fit perfectly. The man grabbed your other hand that held the key and met his gaze.

“I have no use for a pet that doesn’t listen to orders, much less one that disobeys” You stated, grabbing the man’s face. His mask hid his expression, but you could feel his conviction from your words. Releasing your hand from his grasp and over his caged dick, aligning the key at the top with the lock. “So then, will you accept your punishment and wait for orders or do I have to use extreme measures?” You spoke lowly, bored eyes staring into the hero.

Miguel bit his lip in thought, “If I wear that, don’t terrorize the city for the week, promise that.”

“Trying to set demands with me? You really need to know your place” You tutted, giving him a sly smile before continuing, “Fine, since you’re the best free slut in this city.” You chuckled darkly and slipped the key into the lock, pocketing the key.

“Clean yourself up, your little spider friends should be arriving soon. Be good until then, pet.” You warned, escaping through a door, leaving the man to make himself presentable before he could be caught. Just as he was about finished, the wall busted open as the Scarlet Spider and Spider Woman arrived.

“That was a perfect dramatic entrance, now where’s the V/n.  I’ll trap him with my amazing biceps, maybe get some work in with my quads, while you back me up.” Ben rasped, flexing his arms and scanned around the room.

“He got away,” Miguel snapped, turning to leave, a slight limp noticeable as he walked.

“You alright there? Seems like he had you good if you're walking like that” Jess asked, watching as the man tensed and straightened his back. “You can ride with me if you want.”

“No thanks, I’m fine. Let’s just get back to HQ and finish up the meeting for today” Miguel said, jumping out of the wall. He groaned as he could feel the plug nested so deeply inside and grit his teeth to stop himself from moaning.

Ben huffed, upset that there wasn’t going to be any action and followed behind, Jess riding along besides him.

Once at headquarters, Miguel could barely think straight as he desperately tried not to think about how full he felt with your cum still warm. He bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to let out a needy whine in front of everyone. Worse when he felt his dick twitching at the thought yet was confined in its cage. It served to remind him of how he was under your mercy and only you could decide to give him relief. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, helplessly trying to will his boner away while a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder.

“You alright Miguel? If it’s about V/n, we’re sure to catch him next time buddy.” Peter softly spoke, Mayday tilting her head at the anguished expression on his face. Not wanting to draw more attention to himself, he calmly stated to the father, “I’m fine Peter, I’ll handle it on my own.”

Peter wanted to say more, but Miguel stood and walked to the front of the office to give an overview of the current state of the multiverse. He had hoped it would distract him from any thoughts surrounding V/n and how he wanted nothing more than to track down the man, kneeling at his feet.

The sentiment continued as he returned back to the city on patrol, hoping to find the villain as he could feel his cock stirred in its cage. He wasn’t alone this time and was joined by the Spectacular Spider-Man much to his chagrin. They had heard a man’s terrified screams that led them to a group of thugs giving him a beat down.

Miguel and the young Peter Parker had assumed that it would be a relatively simple job as they were just average thugs. But as the fight continued with only two down and three more to go, they realized they were much tougher than anticipated. Still, nothing they can’t handle. Then they heard a deep, menacingly laugh coming from above, one that Miguel knew all too well.

“V/n!” Miguel and Peter yelled. Watching the man smile and bowed to greet his audience.

“Pleasure to be of service, though I’m only interested in one of you spiders yelling my name.” You purred, eyes locking onto Miguel’s, even if you couldn’t see his eyes.

“Boss! Don’t worry about these guys, I’ll take care of them” Peter said as he threw one of the henchmen into the wall. “You chase after him! I’ll take care of the guy who's hurt too.”

Miguel nodded and crawled up to the roof, chasing after the man once more. A mixture of anger that his heroic side wanted to capture you and put you in prison where you belong, but an overwhelming desire to continue where they left off.

He watched as you turned the corner and slipped into an opened window. Carefully coming up to the small entrance, he squeezed in and stood inside the apartment. There was rustling coming from a door down the hall and silently crept towards the noise. Peering into the door was V/n lighting a candle with a match and flicking the dead stick into a corner, a pleasant aroma filling the air.

“It’s good that it’s just you here, I’d hate for us to be rudely interrupted” You said, turning the lamp on the dresser on before sitting on the chair across from the bed. Miguel disabled his location and sent a quick message to young Peter not to worry about him. He was about to walk into the room when you shook your head, tutting your lips at him.

“Crawl,” You demanded.

Miguel was apprehensive about doing such a degrading act, but with his cock starting to beg for the man’s attention, the pain and arousal of being trapped in a cage swept over him. You pat your thigh as he slowly get's down on his hands and knees, crawling to you. He felt so humiliated even if there was no one around, making him clench around the plug.

Once he was nestled between your legs, you murmured a gentle “Good boy” and softly petted his head, as if he was your loving pet, a dog begging for attention. Clasping your hand at the back of his head, you shoved his face into your dick bulging in your pants. Miguel felt part of his anger reignite, wanting to curse you out in Spanish, but his body betrayed him and a low whine emerged from his throat.

Pixels dissipated from his mask, allowing only his mouth available and began to mouth at your cock, hoping to please you. It only fueled his embarrassment and shame as he kept letting out needy moans, acting like some cheap whore for a man who should be put behind bars.

You chuckled at his pathetic state and watched as the man who denied that he enjoys being treated as such, didn’t even realize he began to hump your leg. Moving his head away, you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock free from his restraints, something the man longed for as well.

“C’mon then” you paused, watching Miguel look up at you. Behind the mask covering his eyes, you could feel his lustful gaze through it and grinned, licking your lips.

“Get back to work, whore.”

You were going to have fun breaking him.

a/n: not all that sure if anyone would be exactly interested, but part of V/n was inspired by the Joker. but like fanfiction joker, if that makes sense which prolly doesn’t. the types where he’s like crazy but like doing just enough to keep the villain title going so Batman keeps going for him. well at least from the ones I’ve read, heheh.

up next: reader request! leon s kennedy x top male reader. leon and reader, top of the academy students and fierce rivals. must learn to work together to rescue ashley from the insane cult. god bless her soul if she's got to deal with those angry horny dogs.

#miguel o'hara #top male reader #bottom miguel o'hara #male reader #male y/n #miguel spiderman #across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x male reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x top male reader #spider man: across the spider verse #x male reader #spiderman #miguel x you #miguel x reader #atsv smut #atsv fic #miguel o'hara smut #reader requests #sub miguel o'hara #dom male reader #atsv miguel

[silkythewriter]

I had an idea for a few headcanons you could do if ya want—

Maybe Sir Pentious with a reader who is so obviously in love with him, and keeps pining over him while literally everyone else but Sir Pentious himself can tell they like him? Like he's just really oblivous until reader finally straight up tells him.

Sir Pentious with a clearly in love reader!(●’◡’●)❤︎︎

Warnings!: Non!

Fandoms!:Hazbin hotel!

Author’s note!: HI HI OMG I LOVE SIR PENTIOUS HES SO SILLY!!!! I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS AS MUCH AS I DID

Summary!: reader who’s clearly in love with our favorite snake demon

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! ❤️

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“Call me, you can call me

Boy, just call me (call me, call me)

While you stalling, I'm evolving

I'd give all me”

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!🐍✨Sir Pentious✨🐍!

First of all, just to get out of the way, THIS MAN IS OBLIVIOUS!!!!, Autism be damned my boy can pull without even telling!!!!!

No but in all seriousness he is oblivious to your obvious longing for him.

Everyone can see you giving him shy longing stares only for him to be ranting about his latest invention. Not only would he not be able to tell but he’d always think your just being nice!

Of course he’s crushing hard behind his bedroom door to his little eggs. Happily stating and going on rambles of how gorgeous you looked today. He’d state everything! From the new hair style you tried to the new piece of clothing you bought and wore. When I mean he notices everything I mean it, but for some reason he can’t pick up on your obvious love for him.

The way he could stare in your eye as you tell him he looks breathtaking and still think you mean it just to be nice is astonishing. OF COURSE HES BLUSHING AND KICKING HIS TAIL, but he can’t bring himself to think you like him anymore than just friends!

He’d go to his egg boys and sadly rant on how you’ll only see him as friend. And the egg boys all share one Brain cell so they can’t tell you like him aswell!, maybe they might accidentally spill, or almost spill the secret of him liking you but he quickly knocks them away before you can make sense of what their saying.

All the residents watch as you do your best to drop hints only for him to complete miss it. Even angel cringes as he watches him completely be oblivious to the obvious flirting, it’s take Charlie and Vaggie to stop him from pointing out the obvious.

Husk almost always gives Sir Pentious as gaze of just utter confusion and tiredness.

He’d gladly take flowers from you that you gifted him and take care of it for weeks on end without realizing the romantic gesture!

Alastor, as always finds it humorous, although he usually doesn’t indulge himself in romantic like things he’s find it hilarious. “Even with three eyes he still can’t see the obvious! Ha!”

Charlie tries to help to the best of her ability to help guid him the right direction but it’s just end up with him more confused. Vaggie just face slaps internally,

honestly the whole crew wasn’t having high hopes for him as dim as that is. , look! He ain’t bad looking, but not many people would prefer his clumsy self, so they were honestly hoping he’d figure it out before you possibly moved on.

Even when your upset at the obvious frustrating situation he’s still be confused while trying to do his best to comfort you.

“Well I think the man isss clearly as dumb as a rock!”

It took you starring dead in his eyes for him to question if you were alright. Before you stated it was him

The way he just stood staring at you in pure disbelief, before snapping out of it and embarrassed as his previous words. But after the said embarrassment he’s full with giddy, why of course you love him!, he’s the great sir pentious!

Yea his embarrassment would quickly turn into pride, considering he got someone as beautiful as you to fall for him.

Definition of a clumsy gentlemen, he’d open doors so fast it’d smack him in the face, or pull when it’s a push door and be confused why it’s not opening.(´ω｀💧)

He’s just a silly lil guy! (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

I feel like the crew in the hotel would be relief to find he finally figured out.

At the end of the night he’s squealing like a high school girl as he rambles to his egg boys about you in a new light!.

He’s gift you small little trinkets or happily spend hours with you talking!

He’s as lovesick as your are! He’s just a bit dense when it comes to accepting the fact you love.

It’s like the roles switched! Now he’s daydreaming-ly staring at you happy to have you as his, and him a yours.

Like I’ve said before! He’s a total drama queen, he can’t help it!, deny him a kiss teasingly? He’s crumbling down to the ground and holding his chest as if he just had a heart attack! (¬_¬)

He’s not at all secretive of his love for you, even if he wants to, to keep his image “professional”, he just can’t help and dote on you!

overall he’s a big dote and softy even if he tries to hide it, loves you with his whole being! ( ˘ω˘ ) He can a be a bit over the top sometimes but you’ll come to accept it! And hey who wouldn’t want a silly snake demons who’s tripping over their tail for you. Yea you got him in and over his head but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The roles have truly reversed(≖ᴗ≖✿)

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I LOVE HIS SILLY LIL SELF SO MUCH MORE PEOPLE SHOULD WRITE FOR HIM :(. TYSM FOR THE REQUEST I LOVED IT SM!!!! PLEASE COME AGAIN!!

#x reader #deez nuts #hazbin hotel #anon <3 #all genders #main character #x y/n #i hope you like it #hazbin hotel sir pentious #sir pentious #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #silly little guy #ty for coming to my ted talk #thanks anon! #sorry this took so long #i loved writing this #i love him i swear #hes a cutie patootie #please come again! #woooohooooo #ty for the ask <3 #character x reader #x you #x gn reader

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Hiiii can I request lando x fem!reader where she is like really short and the height difference between them is the cutest. Stuff like where he babies her for her height and helps her get something from a tall shelf and protect her in large crowds. Thought it would be really cute ~ 💗

You're Just Tiny - LN

As someone who is actually a quarter of an inch from being spot on 5 foot tall, trust me ya girl is very short and life do be like that. So this request was well and truly made for me.

Lando isn't the tallest man in the world, but next to his diddy little girlfriend who he loves dearly but he definitely standard above feeling tall even if he isn't really.

However, sometimes it's something that makes him entirely panic and right now is one of those moments.

Because he had hold of her hand and he told her not to let go and yet, she disappeared from his grip and now he can't find her.

"She has to be somewhere." Lando grumbles to Jon and Max who he hasn't lost the two of them in the crowd. "I'm going to start trying a balloon to her."

"I'm sure she'll love that romantic gesture." Max comments before he flicks his head to look over Lando's shoulder making his friend whip around and spot his girlfriend fighting her way trying to get through the crowd. "Found her."

Lando is already heading towards her, dividing the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea since people know and recognise him as important enough to move out the way of. Unlike for his girlfriend who has a pout on her face when he gets to her and only then do people give her some space.

"Are you ok?" Lando questions, trying to hide his smile since it's a little but funny. "Come on, let's get you out of here...Keep hold of my hand this time."

Y/n huffs a little before she let's Lando guide her till they're out the crowd and in the safety of the McLaren unit where Lando tugs her away from Max and Jon to his driver's room to speak directly to her.

"You let go." Lando states when she shoots him a look of annoyance.

"You were moving too fast! And people were shoving me to get closer to you." Y/n almost whines since she didn't mean to let go, in fact she panicked when he just kept going and disappeared while she couldn't fight her away to keep up. "Being short sucks."

"It does not. I'll just make sure you're walking ahead of me next time. I think if I can keep you in front of me then I won't lose you." Lando murmurs clearly thinking out loud. "No injuries though, right?"

"Maybe a couple bruises, someone did elbow me in the ribs pretty hard to get a selfie."

That makes her boyfriend grumble since he doesn't think he's asking too much for his girlfriend to be respected. He just wants to know her.

Lando's hand goes up to shift her top and he sighs seeing what is a pretty red mark that is clearly going to form into a bruise.

"I'm sorry, baby." Lando pouts kissing her softly and sighing when he looks at her

"I'm fine. Don't worry." Y/n smiles lightly earning a hum.

-

Y/n sighs as looks up at the top shelf where she knows Lando purpose shoves a lot of them there unnecessarily just so she has ask for his help. Especially since last time she climbed up onto the counter to reach, jumping back down ended up in a sprained ankle. He also scolded her for not just asking for his help.

"What'd you need baby?" Lando asks walking in the kitchen to find her looking up at the shelves.

"The pasta." Y/n smiles then internally melting when he moves towards her, placing his hand on her back as he reaches up and grabs the bag of pasta. "Thank you."

"No problem, baby." Lando smiles then reaching up and grabbing some of the extra stock of her favourite drink. "I'm going to assume you've drank most of the ones in the fridge."

"Well I would restock if we kept it in the lower cupboards like I suggested." Y/n states flicking the switch for the kettle to boil the water while Lando smirks a little. "You are too proud of the achievement of being taller than me."

"I can't help it." Lando shrugs while moving and picking her up to sit on the counter, standing between her legs in the smoothest sequence of actions he's pulled with her. Though his small frown catches her attention.

"What?"

"Just thinking about how much you'd struggle to reach without me." Lando laughs before he grins at her and she laughs gently pushing him away.

"You're such an idiot."

-

"It's too big." Y/n pouts as she appears in the LN karting suit that matches Lando but clearly the sleeve and leg measures they sent in were wrong or mixed up because it's bunched up around her ankles and flopped over her hands.

"Oh god." Lando laughs moving towards her before he grins and kisses her softly. "May have to..." He begins rolling them up and smiles as watches him. "Maybe you've shrunk."

"I have not shrunk." Y/n states poking Lando's side with her newly freed hand making him laugh and try to walk away. "I'm going to beat your ass you in your own kart."

"Oh wow, really?" Lando laughs then looking at her. "We're having to add extra seatbelts to make sure you don't just fall out."

If there's one thing that Lando loves about his girlfriend, it's her competitive spirit even against him and even if she knows that she's unlikely to to actually beat him.

But once they are in the karts, Lando only climbing in his once he has triple checked his girlfriend is secure and as comfortable as someone can be in a kart, they aren’t exactly famous for comfort.

“You know she’s going to beat you or die trying, right?” Max states as he crouches by Lando’s kart.

Lando is not the type of man to just let someone win because he thinks it would do them some good to have a victory, but admittedly seeing y/n sad because she didn't beat him. That would such pretty back too.

"Can you go make sure she is secure in those seatbelts? I really don't want her slipping out of the seat like I used to." Lando murmurs making Max laugh a little before standing up.

The fact that Lando is so protective over y/n is almost definitely down to the fact she's so small, he's naturally protective in relationships but Max has never seen him like this. It could be argued that y/n is just proving in yet another way that she is different from any others that Lando has been with.

"If you're coming over to ask if I'm secure and check my belts for him, just know he made them so tight that he told me to tell him when I could breathe then loosened them just enough." Y/n states before leaning back to let Max check anyway.

"Thanks."

Y/n nods before he gives Lando a thumbs up that it's all good.

Max climbs into his kart as the rest of Quadrant joins and before they all start racing and for a big y/n gets ahead with Lando defending off everyone behind him but then y/n ends up turning too late on a corner and makes for a very amusing crash into the barrier.

But after Lando wins, he ends up running back to help her out of all the seatbelts before carrying her to finish line so she can finish the race.

"You were going to let me win."

"I'd never lose on purpose." Lando scoffs making her grin at him before she kisses him softly. "You're good at karting. We should do it more often."

"Yeah, but next time can I not be strapped in so much that the seatbelts feel like they're suffocating me?"

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #Lando Norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #mclaren #ln4 one shot #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #mclaren formula 1 #Lando Norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #mclaren racing #mclaren f1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fic

[yesimwriting]

Heyy ya!! Hwo you doing? I wanted to ask maybe you can write Coriolanus x reader when he gets to district after just finishing training for pacekeepers, or maybe where his tribute just arrived to the capitol and the reader maybe says the “what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?” Line? ❤️

A/n the turn around for this was so fast for me 😭 i got excited

hi!! i love these prompts and am so glad for the excuse to write something for him 😭,, also i didn't blatantly make the reader the district 12 tribute bc i didn't want to necessarily cute lucy gray out all together, but it's clear that she's from a poorer district and that being assigned to mentor her is an insult to the Snow name,, also reader pulls a katniss and volunteers for a younger family member bc the irony of that scratches an inch in my brain

Summary: After the very public slight of being assigned to mentor a female tribute from a lower district, all Snow can think about is the uphill battle that winning the Plinth prize will now be. Until, he realizes, that he's been given the first ever district volunteer who seems to have a quality that makes people care about her.

Warnings: my first time writing for a specific character, Coriolanus's internal thoughts are a little softer than they should be at some points but i love the accidental and deeply impractical crush trope so

---

Of Angels

The desperation masquerading as fierceness behind her eyes is undeniable. Coriolanus feels the way your panic, your shock as the weight of your own words dawn on you in his chest. He swallows, forcing down the feeling.

Take me--take me instead! The phrase is repeated again and again, shaky and pleading.

Something about the display, about the 12-year-old girl that desperately tries to cling to you as peace keepers push you forward, makes it hard to watch. Even worse, it makes it impossible to look away.

The first ever district volunteer. A suicide mission or a--a desperate call for attention? A decision made out of hysteria that you're already starting to regret?

He can't decide as the footage of you being ushered onto stage is played. Surely, Dr. Gaul and other Capitol officials won't find this acceptable. The concept of volunteering has always been reserved for the careers, the districts that produce well fed children that train for this. It's a way to allow them to pick their best, their strongest. It is not a way for someone to lay down their life for someone else.

"Are you saying you volunteer?"

You blink, eyes wild and bright as you openly survey the crowd. Coriolanus briefly thinks that you might attempt to take what he doubts is an actual out. You seem to be considering something before finally nodding once. The motion so stiff it makes you look smaller, like the girl whose name was originally called.

"Yes," you mumble. The softness of it is a personal accost. Your choice was made in panic, but that isn't who you are. You're not much of a performer or a fighter or even bold...you're not much of a chance at the Plinth Prize. "I-I volunteer."

----

In the end, he had come because of Tigris. She had insisted that there was a way to see his tribute as more than just another face from the districts, as more human than animal.

She loves that little girl enough to die in her place. If I was her, I'd want someone to tell me that my choice meant something. I'd want someone to show that they care about me.

The words had felt dismissible at first, but the more he thought about them, the more it made sense. Panem had seen the entire thing, had seen the way that his tribute continued to comfort the younger girl even after sentencing herself to death. There's a story worthy of a show in that.

If he can convince you to go on camera, to speak of the girl, of the choice...maybe he'd have a chance at his future. And if the public support manages to help you in some way or another, that'd only be an additional benefit. You love that girl enough to die for her, maybe that means you love her enough to fight tooth and nail to live for her as well.

The train that stops at each district pulls to a stop. The doors open, releasing the sound of tributes that are learning the consequences of attempting to cause issues for the peacekeepers.

A boy he vaguely recognizes steps out, and then a younger girl. Are you one of the tributes already risking their lives in an attempt to aggravate peacekeepers? Or maybe you're cowering at the back of the train, clinging onto the safety of a familiar space.

You prove to be neither. You emerge from the train, perfectly in tact and stable.

Coriolanus parts his lips, yet no words manage to come out. You're different in person, the white you're dressed in is objectively dirtier than it was when you were reaped and yet somehow, here in the dim, gray station it feels brighter. A stray beam of sunlight breaking through a cluster of clouds. A promise that the storm will end soon and that the angels have yet to abandon the earth.

Your dress is a simple thing, loose enough to be a hand-me-down or maybe even borrowed, the lace of the skirt falling farther down your knees than it should. That paired with the ribbon scraps tied to each side of your head make you look younger and cruelly innocent.

"Hello." The blandness of his own beginning forces a burning sort of regret to take over his chest. You attentively turn, expression kind and expecting. It only makes the embarrassment he doesn't fully understand scorch him from the inside out with more violence. He's once again struck with the desire to look away and finding himself incapable of doing so. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm your mentor."

You nod, features hardening. You've pieced it all together--his appearance, what he's saying, and where you are. He's revealed himself as part of the Capitol and now you can no longer watch him with kind, accepting eyes. The look you're giving him is almost enough to make him wish he could have presented this differently.

Coriolanus extends an arm, the carefully chosen pure white rose an olive branch. You blink, eyebrows drawing together before you slowly reach out and take the flower by its stem. Your fingertips brush against his own, the warmth of your skin is so shocking he has to remind himself not to flinch.

"A mentor?" You repeat the word like your only reason for doing so is to try out the foreign word on your tongue. "Does everyone get one or am I just lucky?" You look down at the rose you're now holding. "Or has the rumor that I'm a rebellion trick spread to the Capitol?"

The last question genuinely surprises him. It shouldn't, there had been some talk about why anyone from a poor district would ever choose to go into the games. The way you and the girl you saved reacted to each other could have been staged...but Coriolanus didn't think it was enough to warrant genuine rumors. Anyone that had looked at your eyes and seen the fear in them would have known that it was sacrifice. Is sacrifice. That girl means the world to you.

"No," he starts slowly, "No, everyone gets one and no one here has any preconceptions about you."

You raise your eyebrows, making it clear that you don't believe him. No preconceptions had been a strong way to phrase things, but the urge to assure you had taken over with no warning. You then look away, glancing around to take in your surroundings.

"Then why isn't there..." You trail off, your gaze landing firmly on him. "You're not supposed to be here."

He blinks. For the first time, it feels like you're truly looking at him. His own susceptibility to your wide eyes turns his stomach. You're the one that should feel like something up for display under his stare. "No, I'm not."

The admission forces the edge of your lips to pull upwards. "Alright," you hum, "So what does my mentor do for me besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

For a second, all you do is stare. He's surprised you. The realization brings him more relief than it should. "The girl who you volunteered for..."

You tilt your head downwards, hiding your expression as your fingers carefully toy with the exterior of the soft petals. "My cousin," the explanation is low, cautious, "But we uh--we're more like sisters."

An in that he doesn't even have to work for. "I understand that." You look up, not bothering to hide your confusion. Maybe you weren't expecting something so human to come out. Maybe human works for you. "During the war, we took care of each other...and then after our parents passed, we were left in the care of our grandmother."

The silence that follows is tight, straining against the sympathies you're not willing to extend to someone like him. Your lips part, and Coriolanus is disgusted by the part of him that's curious about what's going to come next.

You're pushed back with no warning. His attention snaps towards the peacekeeper who is shoving against your shoulder with more force than necessary.

"Excuse--" No reaction, no response as another peacekeeper grabs your arm. "Excuse me, I'm her--" You're being dragged away in order to be packed into another vehicle of transportation with the rest of them.

Coriolanus stays near, doing his best to never lose sight of you in the chaos. A tribute breaks free from the hold of the peacekeepers and launches his body forward. An ill thought out escape attempt. The distraction is all Coriolanus needs. This is his chance to go after you, to cement a connection that will guarantee cooperation.

It's not the distraction that gets him to move or even thoughts of the Plinth prize, it's the final flash of angel white fabric as its forced back into darkness. He rushes forward before he can overthink, entering the vehicle just as the doors shut.

----

i think i might make a part 2!!

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus x reader

[turtletaubwrites]

My Pretty Little Thief

Thank you @wallachianblood for this request! The idea and prompts were so cute, and I had way too much fun with it 😊🔥 I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Ace x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2004

Ao3 Link

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

Summary: Ace knows where he left his hat. But when it's not there, he hunts it down, only to discover the culprit. How can he convince the thief to return his precious hat?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Wrap it up y'all), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Just a bit of, Rough Sex, Temperature Play, Playful Sex, Teasing, Kind of Mention of Public Sex, (Ace just wants people to hear), Creampie, Maybe tiny Dacryphilia? (you have one tear that he thinks is "cute"), Pet Names, Fluff and Smut

A/N: I adore this man!! This one just feels super sweet and playful to me. Enjoy!

“I swore I hung it up here,” Ace muttered to himself as he scratched his head, holding up a towel around his waist.

He recalled taking off his hat, hanging it on the door, and heading into the showers. 

Narrowing his eyes at the empty hook, he yawned before heading to his quarters. 

I know I didn’t leave it in here…

His room was a bit of a mess, and Ace sucked his teeth at the sight of the clothes on the floor. 

He knew it couldn’t be down there, but he had to check, annoyance building the longer his hat wasn’t in sight. 

Keeping one hand on his towel, Ace got to his knees, leaning down to check under his bed.

“Ahem.”

Ace tensed, flipping around to see his door close, but his eyes were only on you.

You.

“Bam, got ya,” you said, mocking his voice as you pointed finger guns his way. You brought a finger to your lips, blowing imaginary smoke his way.

Ace’s eyes raked over your bare skin, loving the way your breathing hitched when he watched you. All you wore were cowboy boots, a belt around your waist, and… 

“That’s my hat,” Ace teased, just a hint of threat in his words. He sat on the ground, leaning his back against the side of the bed. 

“Are you sure? I think it looks better on me.”

“Oh,” he asked with a laugh, shaking his head at you. “Why don’t you come a little closer, and I’ll take a look?”

You bounced on your toes for a moment, giving him the cutest fucking smile before shaking your head.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Trust me,” Ace questioned, mock outrage given away by his shit eating grin. “You’re the thief. Guess I’ll have to take it back from you myself.”

He loved the look in your eyes when you watched him stand, leaving the towel on the floor. The way your eyes widened every time his cock sprang loose, as if you could never get enough of him. 

You held your finger guns out to ward him off, but he just grabbed your wrists, leaning down to kiss your fingers.

“Bam,” you breathed, shooting a fake bullet against his lips.

“Oh no, you got me!”

Ace cried out, falling to his knees as you giggled, his warm hands sliding up and down on your thighs. 

“Looks like I’ll have to take you down to get what’s mine.”

Your laughter turned into a gasp as he pushed your back against the door. 

He wrapped one hand into the belt at your waist, holding you firm, then spread your thighs with the other.

“My hat does look pretty good on you from down here, sugar. But I’m still gonna take it from you.”

Your reply was cut short by the press of warm lips against your core, his tongue dipping into your wet folds so fast you felt dizzy. 

You felt him chuckle against your skin as you wobbled, and he gripped your belt harder, forcing your hips where he wanted them. 

“Such a brazen thief, I wonder what kind of punishment you deserve.”

He watched you moan and writhe, pressing yourself up against the door. 

“Who knew criminals could taste this sweet?”

He swirled his tongue around your clit before sucking it between his teeth. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder as he shoved his tongue into you as deep as he could go. 

“F-Fuck, Ace…”

“Oh, is my little villain already sorry? Ready to give me what’s mine?”

A cute whimper left your throat, but all you did was shake your head. 

He grinned, then sucked your clit back into his mouth. Then he made his tongue warm, and warmer, and hot, until you yelped, trying to pull away from him. He stopped the heat, but he didn’t let you escape, yanking on that belt while you squirmed. 

“Can’t take the heat…”

Ace teased you, pulling back to kiss your thighs. He looked up at your pretty face, your skin all flushed for him. 

He stood, pressing you against the door, his cock twitching as it traced against your skin. 

“You wanted to be a cowgirl, huh, baby?”

He grabbed your hands again, kissing them while you caught your breath.

Pulling one hand away, you pointed your finger at his heart with another breathy ‘bam.’

Ace let out a surprised, and joyful laugh. You were always so fun, so beautiful, so free. And you always seemed to want him. 

He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, twisting your fingers into his still damp hair. 

He had planned on taking you to the bed, but when your wet cunt rubbed along his cock, he lost all rational thought, head leaning forward to moan in your ear. 

Your back hit the door again, and you felt the wood groan from the weight. 

“Wait–”

Your eyes rolled back as he rubbed his length along your clit, covering himself in your need for him. 

“Ace…”

His head was buried in your neck, breathing in your scent, and the sound of his name on your lips was everything. 

He lined himself up, holding you against the door. Slowly pushing into your tight, wet pussy, he moaned softly as your body clenched around his with every inch. 

“Ace,” you moaned, this time your voice was high and strained as you fought to stay quiet against the door.

“My pretty little thief,” he rasped in your ear, thrusting so fucking slowly into you. 

There was no better feeling than sinking himself into you, hearing your soft breaths, feeling your frantic heart. 

The aching pressure building in you made you shake, and you were clawing at his back as you tried to stay up, and stay quiet. 

“Please,” you stuttered, moaning again as he tilted his hips up into you. 

“Alright, cowgirl.”

Ace finally took you away from the door, fingers digging into your ass as he slammed you onto him a few times before walking to the bed. 

You had already lost. The hat was about to fall off your head from the way you twitched for him. 

You gasped as he climbed onto the mattress, standing on the edge as he turned. With his back to the bed, your eyes widened at his mischievous smile.

“Wait, Ace, don—“

“Hang on to my hat, gorgeous.”

“No!”

You grabbed his hat at the last second, hand pressing it onto your head as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed.

He laughed as he kept a firm grip on your hips, luckily keeping you in place as you fell.

But even with his effort to keep your body still on his, the slam onto the mattress made you both cry out.

You were reeling from the force of his cock, hitting so deep as you bounced onto the bed.

“Ace!”

You slapped his chest, still panting, trying to breathe.

He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him at your blown out eyes, your outrage diminished by the desperate way your mouth hung open. 

“Go on then, cowgirl. Take me for a ride.”

You let out what had to be a growl, pressing your hands down on his chest as you tried to fuck yourself onto his thick cock. 

With all that he’d already done to you, your body was limp and shaking. You rolled your hips, running your fingers along the muscles of his stomach, his chest, playing lightly with his nipples until he let out a breathy laugh. 

You gained some leverage, digging your boots into the bed as you started to lift off of him until just the tip of his cock was sunk into you.

Then you dropped down on him, your aching cunt sucking him in, the intense heat of his body filling you up.

“Your cock feels so good, Ace. I need you inside me everyday, baby.”

Needy whimpers left his throat, until your legs turned to jello, and you couldn’t keep up the pace.

“My pretty little cowgirl can’t ride? Do you want me to show you how, darlin’?”

“Mmhm,” you moaned, eyes heavy lidded as you nodded. 

“Ya gonna give me my hat back if I make you scream on my cock, princess?”

“Fuck, please, Ace.”

He thrust up into you abruptly, reaching a hand up to touch your beautiful face. He brushed away a cute little tear as you pressed your face against his warm hand.

“That didn’t sound like a yes. Guess I’d better not make deals with thieves.”

He stopped every movement, your own movement falling limp without his support.

“Wait, yes, please! Please make me come on your cock, I swear I’ll give your hat back.”

He rubbed his thumb over your drooling lips, smiling when you didn’t hesitate to suck it into your mouth. 

“There’s my pretty baby. Hold on tight.”

You gripped his chest again as he dug his heels into the mattress. He held the belt tight on your waist, using it to fuck up into you harder and faster than you were expecting so soon, and you let out a small, but filthy scream.

He kept thrusting as he laughed, so fucking pleased to watch you unravel for him.

“Already screamin’ for me, huh, baby? Looks like I get my hat back now.”

He sat up, pressing your bodies together as he rocked into you on his lap. 

Your faces were so close, breaths mixing as he teased raspy words in your ear.

“You look really good getting fucked in my hat, darlin’. You like getting in trouble, don’t ya?”

All you could could was moan, high and desperate. He could tell you were so close to that edge, and he needed it, needed you.

“You want me, baby?”

His question had you clenching on him harder, and he moaned while you answered.

“I want you so bad, Ace. I want you to fill me up. Fuck, please come inside me, I need you.”

His fingers dug into your thighs, body fighting not to give into your words that very second.

“Give me my hat back,” he said in a growl, watching your body shiver at his demand. With shaky hands, you lifted his hat up, your hair so adorably mussed, then set it on his head while he kept gently pushing into you. 

“Good girl.”

He flipped you onto your back, wasting no time. He pressed your thighs toward your shoulders, hunting for that spot that makes you melt.

You came almost instantly, knuckles shoved between your teeth as you tried, and failed, not to scream. 

Ace didn’t care if anyone heard. He loved that everyone knew how much you wanted him, loved hearing you scream his name.

He would have told you not to hide it now, but the sight of your sweet body, writhing underneath him, was too much. 

“Fuuckk... Coming, princess.”

“Ace!”

He used the belt like a handle again, shoving as deep inside you as he could. 

You milked his cock of every fucking drop, his come filling you, a wave of liquid heat inside you.

You were limp as he pressed slow kisses on your chest and face. Finally, you made little whimpers and squirmed as he pulled out of you. His eyes almost rolled back at the sight of his come spilling out of your messy little cunt.

“How’s my pretty hat thief?”

You hummed, a contented smile on your lips making him want to do this everyday. To make you feel good everyday. 

“I think you killed me,” you laughed, voice weak as you reached your hand up to touch his cheek. 

“I could never kill my little criminal,” he teased, kissing your lips so softly as his eyes melted into yours. 

“I love you too much.”

You pinched his cheek, face flushing as you grinned, the sight of you stopping his breath for a moment. 

“I love you too, Ace.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I would like to take him home and protect him from the world, pretty please??

Tag List: @shewrites02

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

#portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace x reader #one piece smut #reader Insert #fem!reader #smut #mine #one piece x reader #fic requests #inbox #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece fanfiction #ace x reader

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so maybe giving his calling card to a kid was a bad idea. He sees that now. Unfortunately, it's too late to take it back. On the bright side, the kid wasn't going to be able to figure out who he is yet based solely on a summoning circle. In the pitch black void of things, Danny can sense the card and the person who's holding it.

Maybe if he leaves Fawcett fast enough he can keep plausible deniability because there's no way that the tiny homeless kid he just met is Captain Marvel. Nope, no way. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He's leaving now.

"What happened to you?" Deadman had an insufferable grin on his face. Did he have the House drop him in Gotham? Danny wouldn't put it past him.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Where ya going?"

"To the basement."

"Why?"

Was the other ghost always this annoying? "Because leaving was a terrible idea. I'm going to go hide in the basement until the day I fully die."

"Aw," Deadman tried to pout, but he failed and started to cackle. "Don't be like that. Did you not enjoy your trip to Gotham?"

Danny was a lot of things. Violent usually didn't make it onto that list. However, he was willing to make an assumption. "So it was your fault."

Another cackle. "Don't be like that! You've never been to Gotham before. You can't tell me you at least didn't have fun."

They were at the basement stairs now. "For your information, I have been to Gotham. I didn't get to do much exploring this time because Batman and his gaggle of sidekicks surrounded me!"

"You've been to Gotham?"

"Not important."

"Oh?" The glee on the full ghost's face made Danny uneasy. "I sense a story behind that."

Oh, no. "No. I'm not telling you." He marched past and down the stairs, not bothering to unlock or open the door.

"Please!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said 'no'."

"Party pooper." he huffed. "You know I'm just going to keep asking, right?"

A sigh. "I'm not gonna cave. No."

"Ah, but you will!" That was the confidence of a ghost who knew he was right. Danny did not like how that bodes for him. "You, my friend, are a younger sibling. I am also a younger sibling."

Shit. "That....That means nothing. My answer will stay 'no'."

Deadman had the gall to chuckle darkly. "We'll see." Then, he disappeared.

Danny didn't sigh because he doesn't need to breathe. He was not going to tell what happened because what happens in Gotham stays in Gotham. It's a rule of thumb that people don't cross. Besides, Deadman doesn't know that Danny's actually the middle sibling. Dani, introduced to his parents soon after he'd told them he was a Halfa, was the embodiment of younger sibling because he had once been the embodiment of younger sibling.

***

"Please get Deadman to stop!" Danny begged Zatanna three weeks later. Maybe he'd overestimated himself a little bit.

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book she'd been reading. Something on runes? "What's he doing this time?"

"He won't stop asking me to tell him about my first trip to Gotham."

"You've been to Gotham?"

Danny groaned into the throw pillow he was clutching. "Yes. Please make him stop!"

"Sorry, hun," she focused back on her book, "But I can't see him."

"Oh. I forgot about that."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

Danny shot up, appalled by the very idea. "It's a matter of principle!" he exclaimed, "I am both the older and younger sibling: The middle child. If I give in, I'll have failed! I can't do that. Do you want me to fail?!"

"Okay, okay, geez!" she surrendered, "Don't gotta be so overdramatic about it."

"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being just dramatic enough!"

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You look like one."

"Yeah, but I'm not! I'm-"

"King of the Infinite Realms," Constantine interrupted, "We know."

"Then don't call me a kid."

"Yeah, yeah, kid,"

"I'm not-!"

"Look, we can have this argument all day and we'll still end in a tie. I've got a case in San Francisco near Titan's Tower. Raven's coming along. Do you want to come with?"

"Don't you normally work solo?" Danny asked. Zatanna still hadn't looked back up from her book and he was pretty sure she'd tuned them out.

"Is that a 'no'?"

"No! No, I'll come with." Maybe having Constantine with him will deter the JL from hounding him. What do they even want with him? If they're upset that he died at fourteen, he's gonna scream.

The Brit smirked. "You sound almost desperate to get out."

"Shut up and let's go."

"Alright, alright."

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders

#writing #dp dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcu #dc comics #dcxdp #dc #danny phantom #ghost king danny #john constantine #zatanna zatara #deadman #house of mystery #Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

[softlyspector]

Sage

Summary: Joel finished your tattoo but staying in each other lives is easier than he thinks. A late night phone call reminds him of how easy it is to lose something too.

Read the beginning: You put aside your touch aversion for a tattoo from Joel.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~10.6k

Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, angst then comfort, the 'believes they're hard to love, loving them is like breathing' trope, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse (joel's workin' on that though), description of a past abusive relationship, undefined unresolved previous trauma, insecurity, anxiety, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this

A/N: I can't tell you how happy the love for this series has made me. You’re all my heroes and this is dedicated to all of you.

Once again, we’re ignoring canon and pretending like Joel can draw for this fic, thank you. Editing this was a labor, so if there are any mistakes blame my tired eyes. Thank you for reading! As always, I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

“Joel?” Your voice is staticky in the dark.

He’s used to answering the phone half awake in the middle of the night, shadows still strung between the wings of his window. Between bailing Tommy out of jail when he was younger and rescuing Sarah and Ellie from sleepovers they didn’t want to stay at, he’s answered the phone in the shy hours of the very early morning more times than he can count. 

In the few months he’s known you, though, you’ve never called him, not once, let alone in the middle of the night. 

“Joel?” The connection crackles and your voice wavers. “Can you hear me?”

It’s then that his mind catches up with him, digs its heels in and kicks to life. He hadn’t said anything beyond a cranky, irritated hello? after the shrill ring woke him and he blindly groped for the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hey, yeah, I can hear ya.” 

Maybe he has the good sense to answer you, but he’s not awake enough to consider the why of the call yet. He’s glad to hear your voice, though.

It’s like a sweet little song in his ear when he hadn’t gotten to see you at all that day. 

And lately the days he doesn’t get to see you are a rarity. 

Most days, you stop by the studio but some days he meets you for coffee, or goes on a drive with you, or insists on teaching you to fish. You’ve been at a few Friday dinners with his girls, though not all of them because you fold yourself up tight and try not to intrude. Most Sundays find you arriving early at his door with pie and coffee from Flu’s, which you eat on his front porch in companionable silence before the heat of the day can settle in. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. Your voice trembles and Joel feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over him. 

He lurches up in bed so fast that spots dance in his vision and a spear of pain slices through his shoulder, raking iron hot nails into a years old injury. “Sweetheart?” A knot of protective worry forms in his chest, lights a fire in his belly. “What’s goin’ on?” 

The moon casts a thin, pale beam of light across the foot of his bed, growing brighter by the second as his eyes adjust to the darkness. But then you continue and the protective feeling only grows, and then goes hard with an icy ferocity. “Sorry for calling so late and bothering you with this but I don’t—I didn’t have anyone else I wanted to call.”

Your voice breaks on the last word, the creaking in your mouth splintering across the line. “Can you…I don’t—” There’s a little pause in which Joel can hear your footsteps as you pace and the quick sound of your breathing. “I just don’t know what to do.” 

Joel pulls himself out of bed and shucks on his jeans that had lain crumpled on the floor where he left them and then pulls on the first shirt his hand touches when he yanks open a dresser drawer. “What’s goin’ on?” He asks again. “Where are you?” 

“Ugh—” You swallow thickly, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really. I’m-I’m being stupid. I shouldn’t have called.”

He can practically see you fidgeting, looking down, shaking your head. Can practically feel you thinking of hanging up the phone, nervous doe eyes darting around like you’ve done something wrong. 

“Don’t sound like nothin’,” he grits out, his voice coming out harsher than he means it to. “What happened?” 

You’d gone down to Austin to visit some friends for the day. It’s why he hadn’t gotten the chance to see you. 

Your ex slips suddenly to the forefront of his mind, who was the goddamn reason you’d moved out of Austin in the first place. Then all the myriad of other terrible things that could have prompted you to call him so late flash through his mind. 

It only serves to make his chest burn. 

“You still in Austin?” Again, his voice comes out angrier than he intends. He pulls open his bedroom door and moves down the hall, not bothering to flip on any lights. 

“No. I’m at—I’m at home,” you stutter. 

He pauses in the front entryway, wallet and keys dangling from his fingers, one foot halfway into a shoe. “Home?” 

“I’m—yeah, home. I just…I came home and the street door was open. I thought maybe the neighbors just forgot to close it when they were bringing groceries in or something, but then the security light wasn’t coming on and my apartment door is open too. It’s probably nothing, Joel, don’t bother with—look I’m sorry for—”

He’s frozen for a moment. The cavernous black hole of your front door looms, the teeth of the darkness sharp and wanting. 

The street door, despite his best efforts to augment it, is notoriously difficult to get open. If it was open when you got home— 

If your apartment door was open too—

“I’m sorry for calling,” you say again when he doesn’t answer, your voice small and anxious. “I think I might have been robbed or something. I just. . . I didn’t want to call anyone else,” you repeat. “I’m afraid.” 

Afraid. 

It’s a cold word. 

Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and getting his boots all the way on, he tugs his own front door open. “Don’t you move a goddamn muscle. Do not go inside. Go back down to the street.”

“Joel—” 

“I’m serious,” he all but snarls. “Now.”  

“Okay,” you agree. Your voice is tight, choked. “Okay.”

“I’m gettin’ on the road now.” 

“Thank you.” 

He doesn’t answer for a minute, just listens to your breathing as he gets in his truck and turns the engine, phone squished between his shoulder and ear. The drive into town is only about ten minutes. You should be alright in that time.

“You there?” Your voice is breathy. You sound a little like you might have been crying and he wonders how long you waffled in front of your door, trying to decide whether to call him or just go inside by yourself. “Joel?”

“‘m here.” He turns off the long dirt road that leads to the ranch. “Yeah, I’m here, honey. Stay on the phone.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thanks,” you say again.  

The word doesn’t register. His mind is already with you, imagining you standing alone on your street, or worse, with folks lurking around the corner waiting to do you harm. It’s an insidious image that he knows isn’t based entirely in reality. “You alone?” Despite his thoughts, he can’t imagine anyone out on the streets of the tiny town at this hour. 

“Mm. Just me.” 

“Good. Stay away from that door,” he grumbles. 

“Bossy,” you accuse lightly, the soft attempt at a joke.  

He doesn’t laugh. The drive feels like it's taking too long, longer than the ten minutes it normally takes. 

He steps on the accelerator and his mind wanders to all the other times he’s been called, into the dark or otherwise, because his people needed him. To the hospital once when Sarah had broken her ankle at a pool party, to the high school when Ellie’d gotten into a fight that ended with a blood spattered hallway and broken nose. 

Those were the worst calls, drives. That was when he felt most helpless, like he was stuck in quicksand. There were just things that he couldn’t protect them from. He couldn’t be there every second of the day, he couldn’t always be with them, and that had always grated. 

Most assured him the anxiety would fade as Sarah got older, but it never did. It hadn’t even begun with her. It was always there, that protective anxiousness. It had gotten exponentially worse with Sarah’s birth, a tiny life he was responsible for, a tiny life that was so delicate. 

And then—Ellie. At least with Sarah he’d had some piece of mind. But Ellie, like Tommy, had a knack for trouble. Too many times she swung in the back door with bleeding knees and twigs stuck in her hair and a scrape over her cheek. It wasn’t always a fight, sometimes it was just climbing a tree she had no business being in, racing her bike against kids twice her size, and unlike Sarah, she had no sense of preservation. 

“Are you hurt?” The question burns in his mouth. He doesn't mean to ask it.

“Hurt—” you start, sounding surprised. “No. No, of course not. I’m okay, Joel. It’s just the stupid door. I’m just—I told you I’m just being stupid. Listen, just—”

Joel knows what you’re going to say, and he should tell you that you aren’t being stupid, that it was good you called him; that he wants you to call him, all the time, but especially when you need him. 

Instead, he snaps, “Don’t move.”   

Your voice cuts off. 

His eyes strain past streetlights and empty, open fields, past the copse of trees that marked the start of a forest where he’d seen a trio of deer a few weeks before, like some kind of omen. 

In the distance, the town comes into view. You don’t say anything but he listens to the sound of your breathing, the calm in and out that reassures him that you’re okay, that you’re there patiently waiting. 

When he turns down your street, you come into view, standing beneath a streetlight in front of your building. The security light above your door flickers weakly, but otherwise remains dark. “You see me?” 

You turn and lift your hand. “I see you,” you say, voice crumbling and soft. The golden light pools around you, casts your shadow behind you like a ghost, or an angel. But you’re there, you’re safe, he can see you, and some of the tension melts off his shoulders. “Gonna hang up now,” you say.

“All right,” he agrees. 

The line goes dead. 

Joel is angry with you. 

It’s the only thought that sticks, barbed and fanged and catching, in your mind. It burrows into the top of your spine and makes your whole body go rigid with fear. 

Joel is angry with you. 

Joel, who’s always been sweet and kind. Who introduced you to his family with affection in his voice, took you fishing and always tossed the fish back when you looked so mournfully at them, who pointed out birds and deer to you quietly and with a practiced ease, who lets you read on the green leather couch in his shop and asks your opinions on the designs he’s working on that you often wish were for you. 

But you’ve never really fucked up before. You’ve never made him angry. 

This, calling him out of bed in the middle of the night, would give him plenty to be angry about. It would give him something to blame you for. 

The truck rolls to a stop, headlights flaring out, and dread forms a knot in the back of your throat. 

Before you can open your mouth, to head off his foul mood and explain, Joel is out of the truck and his hands are cupped around your shoulders, then the sides of your face. 

You flinch at the suddenness of it and then tense but Joel doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes darting over your body like he expects to find you gravely injured. He doesn’t normally touch you so abruptly and the feeling of his hands on your skin makes tears burn behind your eyes. 

He looks pretty in the moonlight. His eyes are cast dark and shaded as they search yours, his pupils so blown out the brown is consumed. You aren’t sure what he’s looking for. “You all right?” He asks, the comforting scent of him wrapping around you. He smells like rosemary and pine, like sawdust. You think distantly that he must have been working on some project earlier in the day. 

And sage. He smells like protection.

His thumb slides over your cheek slowly in a vaguely self soothing way. 

You resist the urge to twist out of grip, trying to remind yourself that now isn’t then, that he isn’t him. 

Your body remembers though, remembers what it’s like to taste fear. 

“Fine,” you reassure him again and pull back slightly. “I just—like I said, it’s nothing. It’s stupid. I just got spooked. I—Joel I’m sorry—”

Joel doesn’t seem to hear you as he releases your face, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw there. He grips your elbow instead and leads you to the passenger side of the truck. “You stay here,” he says. “‘M gonna take a look around. Give me your key.” 

There’s a protective violence around him, a current of energy that makes you wary, that you don’t want to be on the wrong side of. 

“You—Joel, please, listen—” You attempt to shake his hand off, panic clawing at your chest. You’re too tense to be touched, too anxious he’s about to snap at you.

Joel has never raised his voice at you. This fear isn’t one that should rest with him and that frustrates you even more. It makes you feel crazy and unbalanced and like you don’t know who’s really in front of you. 

Still, it’s your fault, after all. It’s your fault he’s here, and maybe that’s good enough for him to start. 

His eyes are like hard, dark flint, like chips of glittering amber, glinting in the pale moonlight that washes out his skin, highlights the circles beneath his eyes. 

“Just stay here,” he repeats. His voice is hard when his eyes flash up to yours. “I’ll only be a minute.” His hand still cradles your elbow as he pulls the truck’s door open, thumb sweeping over the ridge of bone there. 

His hand feels tight, even though it’s probably not. You tug your arm gently out of his grasp and take a step back. “I’m not going to stay here,” you try again, gathering your courage and tipping your chin up. “It’s my apartment. And I don’t want you to go alone.” 

Joel stares at you, brows lowering over his eyes. 

Anxiety beats a nervous, familiar pattern against your ribs, hollowing out the well of your lungs. You bite back the urge to apologize to him again, but he clearly doesn’t want to hear it since he hasn’t responded to it yet. 

He is angry with you, and you don’t like that. But you try to remind yourself again that Joel is not your ex, that in the months you’ve known him, he’s never made you feel unsafe, or like you couldn’t disagree with him. 

But it hadn’t been like that with your ex at first either, and your body is not listening to your mind. 

“Jesus Christ—” he grits out then stops, the words long and deeply accented in his mouth. You do your best to swallow down the squirming worry souring your belly. “Fine. Just—behind me.” 

You aren’t sure how to deal with Joel like this, he’s always so soft and kind and easy with you. 

And you suppose he’s being soft with you now, he’s just—

Angry. He sounds mad; he must be pissed off. Probably because you’ve called him out of bed in the middle of night for no good reason, really. You should have just plucked up the courage to go inside by yourself. It’s likely you’ve called him down for nothing. 

“Okay,” you relent. “Behind you.”  

He doesn’t answer and shuts the truck door. Instead, he moves toward your building without preamble, decidedly not looking at you. 

Seeing the street door wide open when you got home had scared you, the security light not blinking on had terrified you, and then Joel’s constant worries had drifted into the back of your mind, cloyingly poisonous. 

He hates that you leave your windows open and trust the town you live in. He hates anytime you mention that your neighbors leave their door unlocked, even as a joke. 

Ain’t safe, he always said, you don’t do that. 

It was never a question. 

He worries about you standing on the street and struggling with the door. He worries about you getting robbed or worse. You always rolled your eyes, because it was always fine and Joel was a serial worrier. 

But that had been all you were able to think of as you stood there on the street. 

Somehow, you’d convinced yourself to go inside after a few long minutes. You’d debated just going inside too, when you found your apartment door open but the fear had eventually won out. 

Joel’s broad shoulders disappear into the dark entryway before the stairwell light flares on. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. He looks rumpled and soft and painfully domestic. His jeans are pressed with creases, the laces of his boots undone. The t-shirt stretches across the plains of his back, tight against his shoulders. His hair, normally carefully brushed, is mussed. A lick of gray hair sticks up off his forehead. 

When he stops in front of your apartment door, you have to repress the urge to smooth it back, to press yourself into his side in silent askance for comfort you’re not sure you deserve. 

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying again. “Really,” you continue, trying to ignore the dread building colonies in your lungs. 

Nervous now, you realize, not because you might have been robbed, but because Joel is angry with you.

But, like all the other times, Joel doesn't acknowledge your apology. He pushes the door open and flips on the light just inside the door.

Your apartment looks the way it always does, homely and calm. You can’t see a single thing out of place, but that doesn’t stop Joel from searching through it anyway. 

For the next few minutes it's quiet as Joel moves slowly around your little apartment. It’s messy, messier than usual. And when he pushes your bedroom door open, you feel embarrassment crawl up the back of your throat. 

Because this is the first time he’s seeing your bedroom, also a mess, and you realize you wanted that to go differently. 

He’s only ever had cause to sit at your tiny kitchen table, your sofa, before.

The floor is strewn with clothes, your bed is unmade, half your jewelry is out of its box and strung across your dresser. Used glasses and mugs sit on your bedside table that you’ve yet to take to the kitchen, your desk is a mess of old receipts, record sleeves, discarded pens, and stacks of books. 

You wince when he pushes aside your curtains and slams your window shut, the one you always left open for Paprika, before he opens your closet door. 

When your throat tightens, you leave him to your room and sit on your couch instead to wait. 

Inexplicable shame and embarrassment melts around your heart. You try not to think of yourself as a bother to him, not exactly, anyway, and not anymore. But it's hard in this moment when he sounds so upset, so irritated with you. 

Over the last few months, being around Joel and being. . .kind of something, something indefinable and light, to each other, you’ve realized it wasn’t just the tattoo. The tattoo your ex gave you, branded you with, was just the final nail in the coffin. 

Now is a good reminder of that, that you’re sitting around waiting for Joel to tell you how useless you are, to break something, to snap at you. 

He won’t, you know that. Somewhere inside you, you know that’s the truth. 

But your body does not understand that. You’re coiled as tight as a spring, hands fisted in your lap as you wait for the other shoe to drop, for his concern to evaporate when he realizes there really is nothing wrong. 

Anxiety burns bright in your belly, echoes in the stiff cut of Joel’s shoulders, the way he stalks around your apartment, checking increasingly more absurd hiding places until he’s satisfied that you’re alone and the door is locked. 

Joel pushes aside the clothes hanging in your closet, gets on his hands and knees and looks under your bed, and finally peeks in your bathroom. 

He feels calmer, better, now that he knows you’re safe and unharmed, that you’re there in the living room with the front door locked and your bedroom window shut. 

Which reminds him of that damn cat you sometimes let into your apartment, and doesn’t seem to be around. 

Joel trails back to the main room, ignoring the details of your bedroom—the clothes in piles on the floor, the few books strewn across your bed and desk with pens sticking out of the pages, the soft cerulean and cream blankets draped over your bed and on the chair in the corner. He shouldn’t get to see those things, not like this at least. “Where’s your cat?” 

You blink and turn to look at him over the back of the sofa. You have one of the brightly colored, crocheted shawls over your shoulders and had been staring at his painting. The one he gifted you a few weeks before and that you don’t know is of you. The doe with bees dancing around her ears.

It’s an okay painting, but you adore it. 

“What?” 

“Your cat,” Joel grumbles. He’s yet to meet the cat, who always made himself scarce whenever he happened to find himself in your apartment. “Paprika, right? He’s not inside. He okay?” 

He doesn’t want to go searching alleyways in the dark for the orange tabby but he’ll do it. For you, he’d do it. 

“Oh,” you frown. “He’s not really mine,” you shake your head and shift your eyes from his. You look anxious and drawn. It’s like a lead weight in his stomach, to see fear and uncertainty spilled across your face. “He’s fine. I just feed him sometimes. He comes and goes when he likes.” 

Joel hesitates. “You sure?” 

“I—” Your eyes flicker over him before you look away again, your expression closing up. “Um,” you shift uncomfortably. Your shoulders are tense. “Yeah. He doesn’t—he doesn’t really need me.” 

Something about the way you say it breaks his heart. 

There are a lot of things you don’t see clearly about yourself, and your worth, your importance, is one of them. 

“Thanks for coming by,” you say eventually when he doesn’t reply and rounds the couch to sit next to you. “I really didn’t mean to bother you.” 

Joel reaches for you, carefully slots his hand in the crook of your elbow. You tense and he sweeps his thumb over the inside of your arm, soothing you the way he always does. His eyes drift down to your tattoo, the one he gave you. It looks beautiful on you. So beautiful he’s drawn up half a dozen other designs just for you. 

He’d draw forever, if it meant getting something just right for you again. 

It leaves something warm in him, that you like the tattoo so much. 

“I think everything is all right,” he admits. He expects you to relax with that reassurance but your arm goes impossibly tenser beneath his touch. “I don’t want you stayin’ here tonight.” 

The words fall out of his mouth. They’d been twisting circles around his mind since he picked up your phone call half an hour before, but now they spill out, desperate. Anxiety warps his voice into something hard, something tainted with acrid vulnerability that he hates. 

He doesn’t know if you hear it, but you go still and swallow thickly. You tug your arm away from his hand and rub the inside of your elbow. 

Your eyes meet his, wide and weighed down with something hurt. His pretty little doe, afraid. He suppresses the urge to tell you it’s all right, that he’s got you. 

“But it’s all fine, isn't it?” You ask, like that matters at all, like the night isn’t long. 

“Guess so,” he concedes. “But I ain’t leavin’ you here alone tonight. I can’t.” 

Your frown, lips parting gently as you stare down at your lap.

“I’d feel better if y’stayed with me,” he continues when you don’t answer, his voice still laced with irritation. He clears it, tries to make it softer but the worry lingers, infects, roots down in him like you have, bright as sunshine, sweet as tea and bumblebees on a summer evening. You make him sick with worry and he needs to know you’re safe. He needs to see you, real and right in front of him. “Tonight.” 

“Better?” You look up again, confusion tugging your brows up. “Why?”

Joel fists his hands on his knees. His knuckles strain against his skin, the flesh white with tension. It pulls hard until something starts to ache, and he has to wonder if that’s how you always feel. If your skin feels like a thousand tiny needles are prinkling at the underside of your skin.

“Yeah,” he says, his accent deepened, kinked and hard. “Better knownin’ you’re okay.” His voice doesn’t raise in volume, but you still flinch. You try to pass it off as a shiver but he sees it, finally sees what you see, what you’re so clearly waiting for. 

The thought alone makes him want to curl inward, crawl inside his own heart and shield you there. Makes him sick with unease. 

And his suspicions are only confirmed when you duck your head, tuck your hands beneath your thighs, and start again, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I really didn’t mean to drag you out of bed for nothing.”

Joel isn’t sure what to say to that as he realizes you’ve been apologizing repeatedly since he got there. 

It makes him hate himself, because you’re so clearly afraid of him. 

The silence stretches, moonlight pools on your thighs and around your calves from the kitchen window, competing with the low yellow of the floor lamp. You fidget with a loose thread on your jeans, fingers plucking nervously at it.

“It wasn’t—” He shakes his head. He can’t think of a way to reassure you. “You think it was nothin’?”

“Well,” you glance around your intruder-less apartment. Like it’s all the damning evidence you need. “It was. I shouldn’t have called.”

Joel curls a gentle finger beneath your chin and tips your face up, making an effort to have his voice as gentle as he possibly can. Like you’re that deer again, the one that’s familiar with him and yet still wary, still watchful. “You all right with that? Comin’ home with me?” You reluctantly lift your eyes to his and give a mute nod. “You don’t have to.” 

“I’m sorry,” you burst out again, soft eyes fringed with worry. “I—”

“Hey.” Joel doesn’t let you look away from him, smoothes his thumb against your chin. Your skin is soft there, and you don’t try to pull away again. “I always want you to call on me. For anythin’. It wasn’t nothin’. I’m glad you called me.”

You blink at the sincerity in his voice. Some of the tension around you fades. “I ain’t upset with you,” he says, just so you’re both clear. 

You pull your face away from his hand, and he knows your skin feels stretched too thin, tight and uncomfortable, because you scrub at it again with your hand. 

Joel lets his hand drop to the space between you. “Stay with me tonight, darlin’.” he pleads, not sure he’ll be able to make the drive home if you say no. “In the mornin’ we’ll come back here, see if anything is missin’, and I’ll change the locks.” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, Joel,” you try again. “It’s okay. I’m safe here.” 

But that isn’t good enough. He needs to know you’re okay and he can’t do that if you’re in this damn apartment alone with locks he no longer has any kind of faith in. 

He doesn’t want to try touching you again, not when you’re fidgeting and anxious and pulling away. Guilt ties knots around his lungs when he thinks of you flinching, how often he’s touched you without thought tonight. “Look at me,” he says instead. “Look at me, baby.” 

You lift your eyes to his, your gaze hooking into his, desperation he can’t place lingering in your expression. “I’m proud of you, for callin’ on me. But I won’t rest knowin’ you’re here alone.”

You frown. “Proud?” This time, you reach for him. 

Your hand is warm and soft, the brush of your fingers against his palm like homecoming. “Yeah.” And then, again, “I’m not mad. You did good.” 

He can’t tell if you believe him, but you agree to stay with him anyway. 

You’ve been to Joel’s house more than a few times and each time, it’s more familiar than the last. 

Joel’s touch is on everything there. His girls’ lives are fingerprinted on every surface, his life and his family pressed into each fold of the house. The walls sigh with memories that have been collected and transported from Austin, wrapped in tissue paper and delicately given a place to live. Somehow, it always smells like sage has always just been burned.

There are a pair of sheep and a goat that command the acres of land around the ranch. “I’d like a couple horses,” he’d said the first time he brought you over and showed you around, months before. A couple weeks had passed since you’d had breakfast with him and his girls for the first time, and you were already dangerously attached to him. “But that’s money and time I don’t have.”  

“You should get chickens,” you’d said, petting one of the goats through the wooden fence, squinting at him through autumn sunshine. 

“Chickens?”

“Mhm. For eggs. Cost less money than horses and there’s nothing like fresh eggs.” 

Joel had only looked consideringly out over the field. “Chickens for horses,” he’d laughed a little, the sound dry and pleasant, like he found you a peculiar kind of amusing. “There’s an idea.”  

The driveway is long, the world far away. Late autumn air drifts in the truck’s open windows, warm with dry heat. The fingers of bare trees reach toward the sky, skeletal and thin, clenched around the outline of the moon. 

The ranch always feels like a home, like a refuge, and in the night it seems like a fortress. He parks the truck beneath a leafless oak and kills the engine. You listen to it pop as it cools in the darkness. 

Lightning bugs careen through the air, the low sounds of crickets and cicadas cascading on the breeze. “C’mon,” Joel’s voice is crinkled, washed in the gentle, pastel colored tones you know. “Let’s get you inside.” 

Joel takes your bag from your hands and meets you on your side of the truck before you even have the door fully open, his hand pressed to your spine. You fight the urge to lean away, an anxiousness thrumming under your skin that isn’t familiar when it comes to Joel’s touch. 

As you cross the driveway to his front porch you spot something through the dark, a new structure near the sheep’s fence. “Are you building something?”

He turns to where you’re looking. “Chicken coop,” he mumbles. 

“You’re getting chickens?” You ask, surprised. 

“Told me to, didn’t ya?”

You suppose you did, though you didn’t know he’d actually taken your suggestion to heart.

But he sounds annoyed again, so you let it go, let him push you ahead of him toward the house. Joel’s front door, unlike your own, opens without complaint. 

His keys rattle as he sits them on the table inside the door. The living room light blinks on, a warm yellow that contrasts against the lightening blue sky beyond the front windows. Guilt swirls in your belly again. It’s so late that it’s now early. 

If you weren’t so stupid, if you weren’t so useless—

The only thing you can be grateful for is that it’s a Sunday and Joel doesn’t have to rush to the studio after being awake all night. 

A new, shame laden thought blooms, infects—maybe he felt he had no choice but to heed your call. Because you’re useless. 

“This way,” Joel grumbles lowly in your ear, his hand on your hip, pushing you through the living room gently but forcefully, like he’s herding a particularly stubborn sheep. 

You step away from his hand, and this time Joel notices immediately and drops his hand. “That’s okay,” you assure him. “I remember where the bathroom is.”

“You all right?” He asks. “I know you’re probably—”

“I know you said you aren’t angry,” you interrupt, fidgeting with your fingers. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things for me. You could have said no. You could have told me to figure it out.” 

He stares at you, confusion pulling at the lines in his face. You have to lock down the urge to reach up and trace the delicate pattern of crow’s feet beside his eyes. “I didn’t want to say no.” 

You blink, something warm worming its way into your heart, replacing the dread that had curled there like a snake, sharp with venom, waiting to strike. “You didn’t?” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, extending his hand to you but not touching you. “I’d do it every night if I had to, if it meant you were safe. You don’t have to figure it out. Not alone, anyhow.” 

“Well,” you say gently. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to every night.” Then, before you can help yourself, you continue, “I know you said you weren’t, but you just. . .you sounded angry.” You stop and think about leaving it at that but he would never understand you if you left him to guess. You want to be honest with him besides. You want him to trust you. “And I. . .my ex he—well, he would have been upset. He would have told me to figure it out.” 

You fold your hand into his, still outstretched to you. The pads of his fingers are rough and familiar beneath yours. “I ain’t him,” he reminds you. 

“I know. But it’s hard to remember, sometimes.” You take a long breath. “I always had to get ahead of it, y’know? Because I was always in the wrong. It was somehow always my fault.” 

Joel watches you, his eyes knowing in a way you can’t decipher. He nods and instead of answering, he holds out your bag. “C’mon,” he says, voice soft, like the brush of wings. “Been a long night.” 

When you’ve washed your face and changed your clothes and convinced yourself that Joel was telling the truth and that he would not mind seeing you in your pajamas—you trek back through the house to find him in the kitchen. 

He’s sitting at the dining table, covered in Sarah’s textbooks from the previous semester and photo albums and mail, a bowl of fruit and a jar of honey, art supplies and the tiniest carving of a deer you’ve ever seen. You pause and let your bag fall to the floor before slowly approaching. 

Joel’s shoulders are loose and soft, one hand relaxed and open on the table, the other curled around a pencil as he sketches in an open leather bound book. 

He turns and closes the book before you can peer over his shoulder and see what it is he’s working on. “Hey,” he says, the cut of his voice back to what you know. It alights on you in a warm glow, chases the fog of worry from your mind. “You all right?” 

It feels like the thousandth time he’s asked you. 

“I promise I’m fine, Joel,” you assure, pressing one hand to the space between his shoulder blades. He leans back into your touch almost immediately, the tendon in his neck loosening. You rub your thumb slowly against his skin. Thick muscle flexes and releases beneath your hand. “Really.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, glancing up at you. “If you’re shaken up.” 

You pause and tilt your head at him. “Do you want me to be?” You ask, finally pushing that errant lock of his hair back down and into place. 

“No,” he answers immediately. He stares up at you with big, sincere eyes. Your gaze flicks across his face, down to his mouth, and not for the first time, you find yourself wishing he’d kiss you. 

Just like each Sunday morning spent on his porch, just like all those times he pointed wildlife out to you, his shoulder pressed into yours, his face close to yours when you turned to smile at him. 

“Are you shaken up?” You ask, refocusing on the softness of his gaze. 

Joel shifts in his seat and then reaches out to draw the chair next to him out. You let your hand fall from his back and fold yourself into the space next to him, wishing he’d tuck you into his side. 

He doesn’t, because he’s Joel. Instead, he lays his hand on the table and lets you come to him, just like he always does, just like he always has. 

A few weeks before, when Joel was driving you back to town, you’d seen a deer on the side of the road. She was beautiful with big, dark eyes and a smooth tawny coat. You’d pointed her out, watched the flick and twitch of her alert ears. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen such a pretty animal before. And then, behind her, two spotted deer, smaller, clearly younger, but no longer fawns, had appeared.  

Joel, to your surprise, pulled over. He told you to stay put and then approached them slowly, so he could usher them back into the woods rather than spook them into the road. He hadn’t said anything to you about it and you hadn’t asked, but the act had stuck with you. 

Now, his hand there on the table, you’re reminded of that moment. You’re reminded of all the moments like this one, where he patiently waited for you to come closer. 

You reach out and fold your fingers through his. “Yeah, I was,” he admits and for a long while he doesn’t say anything else. You aren’t really expecting him to. 

The light in the kitchen is warm and muted, a cold blue morning light beginning to grow on the other side of the blinds. There are pictures of his girls all along the wall beside the door that leads to the back deck. 

Sarah and Ellie in high school graduation gowns and caps, Ellie bent over someone’s shoulder as she tattooed, hair obscuring her face and theirs, Sarah as a baby in Joel’s arms, Ellie as a gap-toothed child, tongue poking out of her mouth, Tommy and Joel with their arms around each other, fishing poles leaning against the truck behind them. 

Joel is only in a couple of the pictures, the space on the wall reserved for the people he loved and not himself. You squint closer. “Joel,” you say, a spike of laughter in your voice. “Is that you? Did Ellie tattoo you?” 

“Yep,” he says with a shrug. “Needed the practice.” 

“I didn’t know,” you turn back to him and tighten your grip on his hand. You smile. “How many tattoos do you have that I’ve never gotten to see?”

His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. “Guess,” he says, throwing your challenge from months ago back at you. 

You roll your eyes and don’t take the bait. Instead you say, “It’s okay, you know? That you were shaken up. That’s okay. I’m okay.”

He watches you for a long moment before his eyes drop, and he watches your hands instead. His voice is carefully casual and even when he asks, “How long did you stay with him? After the tattoo?” 

There’s nothing accusatory in his voice and it takes you a moment to realize Joel is asking about the tattoo on your shoulder, the one your ex permanently marked you with. 

He’s asking about the Pandora’s box of your body, the cavalcade of emotions and fears that lived inside you. 

You expected anger, to be screamed at for something out of your control, to be faulted for someone else compromising your safety, to be blamed for asking for help and wanting someone else to take care of you. 

“The tattoo. . .” you trail off and swallow back the uncomfortable feeling that lodges itself in the back of your throat. “It was the last straw.” You look away. “I just didn’t realize it at the time. I thought all the other stuff—I thought it was my fault. It doesn’t make sense while it’s happening to you, I guess. You pretend it’s normal because sometimes things are fine and good. I was just stupid enough to wait until after he left me with something permanent to realize things were so bad.” 

Joel doesn’t say anything for a minute but when he pulls his hand away from yours, your belly swoops painfully, a knot forming in your chest. 

It’s a lot. 

Your issues with touch, the relationship trauma you haven’t examined but locked away to burst to the surface while someone was trying to help you. The doubt that he even really wanted to help you, because who would?

But then he says, “It ain’t permanent. Look here.” He tips your chin up with a delicate tap. 

You turn and watch him leaf through the leather bound book. He pulls out a sketch and hands it to you. The paper is thick, the edges of it rough and torn. You don’t say anything, not really sure what you’re looking at. The design is beautiful, in the same style as the tattoo on your forearm. 

It’s so clearly for you specifically that it makes your heart cinch painfully tight. 

“It’s a—we can change it however y’want. It’s a design for a cover-up,” he plucks the page from your fingers and turns it. “See here, there underneath is the original, best as I could remember it anyway.” It’s a coverup of the ugly fucking tattoo on your shoulder, the reminder, the painful, itchy grossness. 

You stare at it, unable to form words, lips moving soundlessly as you take the page back, looking more closely at the details, at the clever ways he’d thought of incorporating the existing lines. He doesn’t say anything, not even when you turn and throw your arms around his neck, squeezing tight until his arms curl around your waist. “He doesn’t get to have you,” he says. 

One broad hand slides up your spine to cup the back of your neck. It makes you feel small. In a good way, in a way that makes you close your eyes to stave off the tide rising in your chest. 

He’d done that the last time he held you, too. When you’d melted into him in your kitchen and told him you were nothing but work. He’d whispered things like it’s okay and good girl in your ear then. 

His fingers are warm and firm against your skin, rough and soft in all the right places. An ache forms between your ribs, juts up into your heart and splits you open.

“Thank you,” you say against his shoulder. “For everything.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he says, his chest rising and falling with each word, like a symphony against your own body. 

You bury your nose against his neck, let the pins and needles of touch fade away, replaced with the safety that Joel carried around with him like it cost him nothing. “I mean it,” you say quietly. 

“I know you do,” he replies. 

The morning light is golden now, bleeding in through the curtains in thin shafts, bars that cross you and Joel, still settled in his arms. It doesn’t feel wrong to relax against him, to let him rub your back slowly. 

It doesn’t hurt, and you realize you don’t expect it to. 

“You wanna sleep?” 

“Maybe for a little while.” 

You move out of his grasp, and then let him pull you along to his bedroom. 

Joel’s room is darker than the kitchen, and it's easy not to think too hard about what’s happening as you slide beneath the sheets next to him. 

It’s quiet, the whole world still and silent aside from the fan rotating slowly overhead.

You reach for him in the dark, curl up tight against his side. His arm slides around your back, tugs you that much closer. He’s still in his jeans but you don’t point that out because you don’t want him to move. 

“One of my tattoos,” he says against your temple, when you relax into the safe circle of his arms. “Is over my heart.” 

You contemplate that for a long time, trying to imagine what it might be. “A nice one? Or an Ellie apprenticing one?” 

He chuckles. “A nice one.” You expect him to ask about your tattoos, and you’re prepared to answer, but he says instead, “It’s been a long time, since I’ve done this.” 

Joel doesn’t specify what he means by this, whatever little thing has been growing between you. “Have someone in your bed?” You tease. 

He doesn’t answer, the silence heavy, almost melancholy. His hand slides up your back again, the fabric of your shirt teasing up. You tense when his fingers brush against your bare skin, warm and gentle. 

His hand moves away and tugs your shirt back down for you. You consider, maybe for the first time, Joel’s position. He’s only ever touched you freely, so needfully, the first and second times you’d been tattooed by him, and every day you’ve seen him since. 

He plays by your rules and you have to wonder what he needs. 

It’s been a long time, he’d said. He’s inched closer to you over a period of months, patience in spades wrapped around you like a safety net. 

You trust Joel, you realize. Maybe you’d known it before but it sinks into your skin in that moment, folds itself tightly inside your soul. You want to let him take something he needs. “It’s okay,” you find yourself saying. “You can. . .it’s okay.” 

He hesitates and you push one of his hands back to your waist. “I like it,” you assure him. 

He presses both hands beneath your shirt so they rest against the small of your back. The span of his hands are broad, splayed across your spine, over the ridges of your vertebrae. “Sure?” He asks, but his nose is pressed against your temple, his body loose and molded to yours. “My girl,” you think he says, so quiet it’s almost inaudible, the words pressed right against your forehead in a kiss. “Good girl.” 

It feels so nice, the intimacy without expectation of anything more, without feeling like something was wrong with you. It feels like the envelope of your heart may burst. 

You tuck yourself tighter into the crook of his arm, nose buried against his shoulder. He smells so strongly of himself there, the natural scent of his skin and sweat undercut only slightly by the faded smell of his soap. 

He sounds close to sleep, exhausted after the worrisome, anxiety fueled night you had accidentally caused him. “Joel?” He grunts so you know he’s listening, still awake. “My antler tattoo is on my ribs.”

“What?” His hands drift a bit higher. “Really?” 

“Mm.” 

So when his fingers trace over your bare skin, you close your eyes. The sensation is so nice. The earlier acrid wave of fear has passed and no needles stab at your skin. It tickles, it feels like wings against your ribs. 

Want flutters alive, in your belly, between your legs. 

His bedroom is warm and cast in faded, milky light. He shifts and pushes up the sleeve of his t-shirt, until the curve of his opposite shoulder and the expanse of skin beneath is bared to your eyes. “One of Ellie’s first,” he says. It’s a needless explanation, though you find the tiny outline of the dinosaur a little funny. 

When you reach across his chest and touch it, Joel twitches, like he isn’t expecting you to. His skin is soft there. “It suits you,” you say as he digs both his hands into your waist again. 

You trace your fingers over his chest and throat. You trace the line by his eyes and rake your fingers through his hair. 

He leans into your touch and you feel like the world rests in your palm. 

When he says, “I think I can feel yours.” You close your eyes and smile. It almost feels like he’s tracing the outline of it. 

“You can’t.” 

“I can,” he disagrees. “It’s real pretty.” 

You want to offer to show him yours in return, but sleep and safety pull you under. 

Joel’s room is empty when he wakes, and if it weren’t for the clear imprint of your body in the nest of sheets next to him, he’d think the previous night was a dream. 

He’d think the comfortable way you curled into him was a dream. 

He lies there, jeans cutting into his waist painfully, thinking about how easily you’d curled up next to him, how velvet soft your skin was. It makes him smile and he groans and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just like a kid,” he huffs. You make him feel young, like this is the first time and he’s a better man than he is. 

But he’s starting to wonder if that’s what love is supposed to feel like. Off Balance and brand new and secure and like it had always been there and always would be, all at once. 

Joel gets up slowly, shoulder and knees and back smarting as he does. He feels the ghost of your head on his shoulder, an ache forming along his collarbone from the weight of it resting there. His fingers snag on the blanket you must have thrown over him in lieu of your body heat. 

He wonders where you’ve gotten to. Maybe you left, took an Uber back to town. 

Then, he hears it; commotion in his kitchen. 

And he remembers it’s a Sunday and that his girls have been visiting more often, ever since they figured you were around on most Sundays. That usually you stopped by with coffee and pie from Flu’s, and sat on the front porch with him. 

The noise is nice, better than waking to a silent house which he’d never gotten used to after Sarah and Ellie moved out.  

His girls and you, down the hallway, in the kitchen. There’s laughter, and then a shriek as something shatters on the floor, a flood of curses from Ellie that devolve into shushing and giggling. 

The smell of breakfast food cooking slips under the door as he changes. In the bathroom he slicks his hair back into place with wet fingers and thinks about your fingertips fluttering through his hair and tracing the crinkles by his eyes of their own accord. He brushes his teeth and thinks about how gently you’d laid your hand between his shoulder blades, how you let him sleep with his hands pressed inside your shirt, told him about your antler tattoo. . .

The antlers on your ribs, spearing up through the cage of your body. 

He wants to see it, trace it, wants to put his mouth against it. The urge to touch every inch of you siphons into his chest, the urge to curl you in close to him, to feel the plush curves of you against his side, in his hands. 

He wonders if you’d let him. He wants to earn it from you, coax you closer and closer, as slow as he has to. 

When he walks down the hall and passes into the living room and then the kitchen, he finds the three of you huddled around the breakfast table. Sarah’s head is lent against your shoulder and Ellie’s bicep presses into yours.

The three of you have your heads bent together, hungry eyes sliding over something on the table in front of you. 

“Mornin’,” he greets. 

You look up at him, doe eyes bright, crinkled at the corners, every doubt and fear from the night before washed away. “Morning, Joel.” 

“Girls,” he nods, passing by the table, beelining for the coffeepot. 

“We made breakfast,” Sarah says by way of a greeting. “How come you haven’t shown her all these designs?” 

He does a double take at the table, to find most of the contents of his notebook spread across the wood. 

Joel sighs hard through his nose and Ellie does have the grace to at least look sheepish, though it outs her as the instigator. “It’s not like you were ever gonna show her!” 

“Jesus,” he grumbles, not looking at you as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, a little embarrassed at the sheer amount of them. “Well, now I won’t get the chance to, will I?” 

As he pours coffee into his mug, Ellie gives a dramatic groan and Sarah says, “C’mon, dad, don’t be like that.” 

He turns to find all three of you staring at him, and he can’t really be all that upset when your mouth is twitching like you’re trying not to smile. “Come sit down,” you suggest, “and I’ll tell you which one my favorite is.” 

So, he gathers up a plate of eggs and bacon and toast and ignores the smirking of both his daughters, the knowingness in both their faces grating on him, and sits across from you.

He watches you page through design after design, months worth of work, all the way back to the beginning of summer when you’d first, finally, wandered into the studio. You push one across the table towards him, and then a couple more. 

“That’s just about all of ‘em,” he comments around a forkful of egg. 

Instead of responding to him, you turn to Sarah and say, “Maybe one day he’ll realize he’s a good artist.”

You insist on cleaning up after breakfast so Joel can have some time with his daughters. 

The light buzz of conversation seeps in from the living room. Occasionally Ellie’s voice rings out, more excitable and louder than Joel and Sarah’s. You can’t hear what they’re talking about and you don’t want to. 

A bit of guilt pools in your belly, a slight worry that Joel might be upset with you for letting his girls show you something they probably shouldn’t have. 

You hope he really had intended to eventually show them to you, to share with you the beautiful things he made, whether he thought of them like that or not. 

Joel’s home bursts with art, with craftsmanship and creativity, though he doesn’t believe you. He tells you the same things are true about your apartment and your silly little hobbies, and you suppose both of you have a little to learn in being as proud of yourselves as you are of each other. 

When you’re wiping down the counters, Ellie and Sarah pass through to gather their things and say goodbye. While Sarah gives you an unexpected hug that you make yourself hang on for, Ellie rifles through a cabinet, pilfering it for stray snacks.

“He isn’t mad you saw them,” Sarah says when she pulls back, mischievous glint in her eye.

Ellie and Sarah are the same kind of troublesome, you’ve come to realize. Sarah is just better at hiding it. “Oh yeah?” 

“He needs a little push sometimes,” she says delicately and with a shrug.  

“More like a huge kick in the ass,” Ellie says. “You should have heard him before he even met you! It was like you were some kind of ghost or something. But it was like that after he met you too.” Her voice pitches lower and gruffer in tone, “Ellie, you’re goin’ to spook her. Don’t say nothin’ —”

“Alright,” Joel says from the mouth of the kitchen. “That’s enough. Get your ass back to Austin.” 

You smile at Ellie, “You do a really good impression.” 

“Told you, dude!” She says as she slides past her dad, Sarah following right after. 

Joel just grunts and then calls after them, “Drive careful!” 

“Bye!” Twin voices call out before the front door slams closed. 

And then you’re alone with him, fingers still tangled in a dish towel. 

Joel’s eyes soften when he looks at you, and you’re reminded of his hands beneath your shirt, the iron hot touch of his body against yours. You’re reminded of the lancing burst of want that sparked inside you with him.

Only with him. 

Maybe because you knew he tried to understand, that he’d let you go when you needed it. 

You open your mouth, not sure what you’re going to say, when Joel steps forward and tugs the towel out of your hands. “Don’t suppose you’d come outside with me? I want to show you somethin’. See if you might help me with it.” 

“Sure,” you say.

Joel nods and when you brush your knuckles against his, he laces your fingers together. 

Outside the air is warm in a distinctly autumn way, with the scent of sun in the air muted, the swirling chatter of decaying leaves on the breeze, the earthy scent of hay and soil. 

You cross the porch with him and descend the steps to the yard. He leads you toward the chicken coop.

“When did you have time to build that? It’s new.” 

“Been workin’ on it for awhile now. Just had Tommy help me move it here from out back.”

“Oh?”

“Was supposed to be a surprise,” he grumbles. 

You lean into his arm, seeing your walk from the truck to the house in a different light. “Is that why you were cranky about me seeing it last night?” Joel starts to answer when you gasp and let go of him as two red-ish brown hens and a rooster round the corner of the coop. “Joel! You already got some?”

He mutters something about goddamn chickens showing me up behind you as you crouch to watch them on the other side of the fence. 

“I did,” he sighs. “Look here.” He opens the gate and ushers you through to the other side where a hatch opens in the coop. “Go on,” he says, gesturing for you to look. 

Two fuzz balls peer back at you from the depths when you peer into the hatch. “Chicks?” You say excitedly. 

“Chicks,” he agrees mildly. “You wanna hold one?” 

Without waiting for a response, he gently cups his hands around one of the yellow, fuzzed creatures and drags it out. 

And you get the very real pleasure of seeing Joel Miller standing there in the morning sunshine, holding a tiny chicken to his chest. You laugh, and he says, “What?” 

Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

The chick is transferred to your hands from his, light and airy, like something incorporeal sitting in your palms, peeping softly. When you look at him, Joel’s face is relaxed. “What did you want me to help with?” 

He clears his throat and gestures to the coop. “Paintin’.” 

“Weren’t you a contractor?” You tease. “Shouldn’t you be able to paint it?” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “I mean somethin’ pretty. Like how you painted your table.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, something warm settling in your chest. “That’s nothing special.” 

“Mhm, just like how that painting of mine you like so much ain’t special either.”  

You roll your eyes and offer the baby chick back to him. “Okay, I get it. I’ll help you paint it.” Joel tucks the bird back into its home, the peeping fading when he closes the hatch. “Joel,” you reach for his wrist. “I’m sorry about seeing those sketches.” 

“You ever goin’ to stop apologizin’ to me for everything?” He asks, eyes alighting on you. 

“Well,” you continue. “I am. Especially if you never intended for me to see them.” 

He nods and squints into the sun. His boot scuffs against the ground. “I always intended you to see ‘em. They’re yours.” 

“They’re beautiful.” You step closer to him, the hens clucking around your ankles, and draw his fingers between yours. It’s quiet for a moment before you take another step. Being around Joel is like being safely shaded, like sleeping in a protected wood. “Thank you for coming when I called. You didn’t have to.”

“I did, honey,” he disagrees. “I’ll always come when you call. Even if you think it’s nothin’.” 

You nod and tip your chin up, watching his eyes. The sun makes the irises look honeyed. You glance away, swallowing down the words burgeoning behind your lips, all the things you want from him and want to say to him. 

He shifts. “I’m sure you got other things to get to. Let’s go take a look at your apartment—”

“Wait,” you tighten your hold on his hand. “Not everyone would do what you did. Not everyone would put up with me the way you have. My ex didn’t. He probably made me worse.” You’re so close to him you can feel the sink and rise of his chest, you can feel each deep breath like it's your own. “But you make me better, you make me safe. So just let me say thank you for once.” 

He shakes his head. “I won’t let you thank me for doin’ right by you,” he says, stubborn as a bull. “I know you need reminding. But you ain’t work to me. There’s nothin’ wrong with you. I haven’t been putting up with anything. I’d drive down there every damn night if I had to.” 

You tilt your cheek into his hand when he cups your jaw. Joel’s eyes are flicking over your face, his expression tense and needful, wanting. 

His eyes hook into you, intense and tawny, the breath is punched from your lungs. 

Never. 

You’ve never felt like this with anyone, like you could be stripped bear, like he could press his hands inside your chest and feel the slick beating of your heart in his palms and everything would still be okay. He’d catch you, he’d shield you, he’d figure out a way to mend you and help you, he’d look at your heart and put it back in your chest even if he wanted to keep it for himself. 

When he leans in and kisses you, it feels like fragments of your soul are being pieced back together. Shards of yourself you hadn’t even known were dust reform, shine brighter. 

He cradles you to him, the line of your body pressed against his. He’s muscled and soft and broad and so solid. He groans into your mouth, licks into you. There’s possession in the way he holds you, like you’re his and his and his and you always have been.

Joel tastes like coffee, because there’s nothing else he could have tasted like. 

He’s so familiar and safe, like sage burning against the night, like a soft place to land in all the ways a person could be. 

His other hand splays against your lower back, the tips of his fingers against the waist of your jeans. 

When you pull back, lungs aching for air, he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His jaw is clenched tight, a muscle jumps in his jaw, like he’s afraid. 

“I’m not that skittish,” you say. “I trust you, Joel.” 

He opens his eyes, swipes his thumb across your lips. He looks like a man who’s patient, steady hand has finally touched something delicate and rare. 

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #honeyed fic

[princessbrunette]

you’d always been a nerd, there was no doubt about that — it’s only now you were older, you were known as a nerd who was filling out her bikini top, and jiggling in her bikini bottoms. now, unlike yourself — you sit on a little boat out on the water with the infamous pogues.

it was jj who invited you here. it was always jj — he’d been enthralled to see the sexy little thing you’d grown into adulthood as. he’d spotted you whilst working at the library, frowning over a file book of library card entries with cute pouty lips and reading glasses that he wanted to cover in cum. hed always thought you were cute at school, but now he just had to have you. he’d used his charms on you, and now you were nervously tucked into his side, ‘making friends’ with his friends as he’d described it. “gotta get ya out there, there’s a whoooole life to be lived outside these books, you know that?”

he was burrowing through his backpack, leaning over on the boat beside you to find the weed he’d packed, clearly set on corrupting you for fun.

“its the best of the best— like, perfect for a beginner—” he rambles, dumping things out his backpack struggling to find the small baggie of prerolls he’d prepared.

“jesus, jj do not corrupt the poor girl.” john b bites back the entertained smile, lifting his head from where he lounged in the sun to look at you. “you sure you’re okay with this sweetheart? can totally… you know, stick to what you know.” he shrugs, sympathetically and you shake your head, wide eyes finding the blondes.

“its okay, told jj i’ve always wanted to try. he said he’d hook me up.” you smile politely, still a little shy around the group.

“yeah but he’s being weird about it.” kiara glares at her friend with her nose turned up, nudging him with her foot nearly knocking his balance off. “dont be a creep.”

“look i’m not being a creep, alright! ‘said she wanted to try, and i’m being a good citizen and simply helping this sweet young lady out dabbling in just a lil bit of herb okay so i don’t wanna—” he dives headfirst into another one of his rants, but is quieted by your gasp when a couple of items fall out his backpack, including a gun.

“nice work.” pope shakes his head and your eyes widen, looking around wondering why no one else is concerned.

“why do you have a gun, jj?” you scandalise and he picks it up casually, flipping it in his hands making you shuffle away, jaw agape.

“gotta protect my people, what’s wrong wi’that? look i’m a pro at usin’ this thing— set up a little target practice in john b’s backyard and lemme tell you, i have quite the aim.” he waves it around making you stiffen up, touching his bicep to stop him from being so reckless.

“god, you must be careful with that thing. they’re dangerous jj! i read that these pistols just go off at random all the time, you could seriously hurt someone and i don’t wanna be the person who gets shot by accident! do you even—” you freak, and he turns his body to you shuffling closer and silencing you.

“shh, shh, shh, shh — hey. it’s all good. i would never accidentally shoot a pretty girl. trust me, i’m so careful.” he smirks, bringing the tip of the barrel to your lips making you freeze with wide eyes. to keep you there as he speaks, an arm slings over your shoulder, his clammy hand gently grasping the back of your neck. you know you should be scared, the boy seems reckless and unhinged — and worst of all, his friends seemed used to it which tells you he does this shit all the time — but something about it made your cunt throb, dampening your bikini bottoms and subtly pressing your thighs together as you felt your skin heat up.

maybe it was all the books you read, but you’d always loved a bad boy.

“seriously bro? you’re scaring her.” kiara complains, leaning across and yanking the pistol out his hand and shoving it back into his backpack.

fast forward a few hours, and you’re back at the chateau, the only ones inside in john b’s bedroom. you’re looser, high and relaxed from the joint jj had talked you through smoking — and now you were laying your head on his bicep, his free hand down your panties rubbing your copious juices into your swollen clit.

“cant believe you’ve never been touched like this, mama. been missing out on heaven, right?” he grins, leaning down to kiss at your cheek when your eyes flutter closed, so out of it and blissful.

“mm… wanted this since…” you trail off, lips parting and brows furrowing when he curls his finger inside you.

“nah, go on. since when… tell me how long this pretty pussy’s been horny for papa j.” he dirty talks so well you clench hard around him, working up the courage. it didn’t take much, the intoxication and lust making you brave.

“since you put the gun to my lips.” you admit quietly and his jaw drops gleefully, speeding up his fingers.

“seriously? damn i knew you were gonna be a freak. it’s always the quiet ones, always dude.” he celebrates to himself before staring down at you adoringly. “man, i’m gonna have so much fun with you, pretty girl.”

#jj maybank prompt #deer!reader #i guess

[dreamerdeity]

18+ CONTENT AHEAD!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Now that he thinks about it, 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 reckons he's got a thing for engineers—Specifically, pretty engineers who spread their legs for him like the good girls he wants them to be.

You were so kind as to offer repairing his prosthetic arm's nerve-device agreement and motor controls. Nothing out of the ordinary, but what was out of the ordinary is this. Boothill is something of a brute, a brazen gunslinger who's rough around the edges, yes, but nothing could've prepared you for what came after his arm was all back up and running. "Jus' wanna test out your handiwork" is what he said. What he failed to mention though was that testing that repaired mobility involved you sprawled on your work station, skirt bunched up around your waist, and his cold metal fingers pumping in and out of you as he licks and bites at the soft skin of your neck like a starved man. You're dazed and in disbelief, but it's good. It's so good you're past questioning the nature of your circumstances.

"Fuckin' hell… Looky what we have here. Who woulda thought that pretty little miss engineer liked gettin' her pussy filled like a hooker." Boothill murmurs tauntingly against your neck, the shit-eating grin on his lips evident in his voice and all it does is make you clench around his fingers harder, a soft moan tumbling past your lips when you hear him suck in a breath at your tightness.

You part them for him obediently, and your tongues sloppily dance against one another's. He pulls away too soon, lips curling up in a grin, tongue swiping over his sharp and pearly teeth . "Takin' my fingers so well. I reckon I might jus' have to take ya back home with me. How does that sound, cutie? You can be my personal repair-lady. Would ya like that?"

He curls his silver-plated digits against your walls and chivalrously waits for you to let up, wasting no time as he picks his pace back up when you do. You dip your head downward, watching as your wetness drips down his wrist, coating the metal in a glossy sheen of your arousal. The coordinated clanking of his arm mixes with your moans, and Boothill finally pulls his face away from your neck. He leans down to meet you at eye-level, so close that you feel his breath fanning against your lips.

"Ya feel that? How does it feel, sweetheart?" He tilts his head to the side, unbusy hand cupping around your clothed breast and squeezing gently. If you were in the right state of mind, you'd speak, but all you manage is a nod, lips parted and brow furrowed as you try to remain grounded somehow. Boothill giggles at your state, a sound too innocent to be heard amidst the obscenity of his actions, his fingers picking up the pace and the cool metal of his thumb starting to rub fast circles against your clit, his tongue darting out to lick against your lips in silent coaxing.

Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn't. That's an idea you'll find yourself entertaining long after the outlaw has bid you a temporary farewell. You know what? Maybe you will.

a/n: yall i literally know nothing about hsr but i saw this man on my fyp and had to write sth for him bc i started frothing at the mouth WHAT? is his arm even prosthetic? idk and idc i want him so bad.

#boothill hsr #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #smut #imagine #hsr boothill

[babygirl-riley]

“You want me to what now?” Simon asked stopping from cleaning up the dinner you made.

Stopped him clean in his tracks. It was such an out of park question that made his mind stop and his cock hard. You played with your hands and had a sheepish smile. “I think we should try with no condom,” Both of you wanted to be extra cautious of not getting pregnant, how much he would rather not glove it on his weight of not being a father beats it. “I am on the pill and worst case if we feel that it is necessary go get a Plan B. I just was talking to Danica…”

“Ah,” Simon said turning his heel and walking to the sink. “Of ‘ourse it was Dani.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. “She told me it was better with no condom. That it feels better for the man.”

Simon chuckled shaking his head. “I have pleasure no matter the circumstances lovie.”

He placed the plates into the sink as he heard you walking to him. “Si-Just this once. If you say an affirmative no then it will be dropped and never spoken again but you have to look at me in the eyes and tell me no.”

Simon didn’t move for maybe a solid minute before turning around. His eyes were blown wide from lust, you knew that look like the back of your hand. He walked closer to you grabbing your waist and leaned in, you could feel his breath. “What if we can’t stop after one time?”

That made your eyes roll and your thighs rub together. You went to his ear and tugged the mask with your teeth. “Then I guess that would be a problem for a different day.”

Simon had chills run down his spine. He loved when your teeth would tug at his balaclava, then you saying that? He growled lowly before standing up straight. Simon deep down wanted this forever, being able to watch his seed leave your beautiful hole. Feeling your plushie walls gripping his cock. He picked you up and placed you on the counter pushing your thighs apart to place himself between them.

“Listen and listen close,” He started slowly getting on his knees as he wrapped his fingers around your leggings and panties. “I’m fucking ya right here and right now. No preparing. No nothing. Can you do that princess?”

You licked your lips as you moved your hips a bit. Placing your hands behind you to give you good support. Watching him slowly dropping your panties and pants down. He stood back up leaning his forehead to you, you placed both of your hands on his cheeks. “You sure Si?” You whispered pulling your fingers underneath his mask to take it off.

Once you saw his handsome face, you smiled softly giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah.” He whispered back before unbuckling his belt.

It made you whimper a bit as he kissed your lips, then your cheek, then your neck staying there and biting sucking. Knowing damn well work is going to that tomorrow. His fingers went to your cunt as he dived his finger in your hole fast before bringing up to his lip. He groaned and licked it all up. “I haven’t even touched you yet, soaking wet for a fantasy.”

“Simon pleeease,” You whispered hooking your legs around his waist. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He smiled, chuckled, and nodded sliding his pants and boxers off. You looked at his cock, his vein popping out more, his top red and swollen. You moaned even looking at his cock, you licked your lips scooting closer off to the edge. Simon chuckled again. “Needy little thing.” He grabbed your lower back and put his fingers in your pussy to gathering your juices.

You hummed as you watched him lather his cock with your cum. He looked back up at you. Both of your eyes connected you grabbed his cheek and brought him to your lips. His tongue asked for entrance into yours, when you parted your lips he slowly pushed his cock into your pussy. You gasped as he still kissed you, the stretch would always have a small pain, that would soon be replaced with pleasure.

Simon sighed loudly placing his head against your shoulder. You gasped longer, god how it felt different. You could feel every single part of his cock, especially the vein brushing against your walls. Simon filled you with his cock, both of you stayed there for a moment.

“F-ffuck,” He whispered kissing your shoulder. “This…mhm…your pussy feels so nice.”

You whimpered as you moved your hips. Simon hissed as he nodded, he pulled out and snapped right back in. Making you both gasp. He did it again and lifted himself to look in between the both of you. God how he didn’t realize how good it was with you out of the condom. He has fucked girls before for sure but this was different.

He could feel the walls of your pussy gripping around his cock, like it was meant for him. Your walls were so much more cushioned, soft, fuck he would say home. When you would clench, fuuuuck, he could buckle his knees and fall over. Simon started to pick up the pace as he watched yours and his cum mixing together.

“This pussy is mi…” He threw his head back for a moment and his eyes rolling behind his skull. “Fuck…if we continue this…you can…god damn…”

Simon never could have thought about him mumbling to you, he loved it. Loved being able to feel safe enough to mumble sweet things. He has only done it once when you were sucking him off, over and over to the point of overstimulation. Now here he is becoming a mumbling mess, god feeling you clench as he hit that spongy spot over and over.

He felt you were about to cum. “Simon…I’m— I can’t…” You were grabbing onto him, grabbing everywhere.

He nodded pressing his head against yours. “Cum baby girl I fuck I got you.”

That did it for him, her pussy clenched around him like a fucking glove. He started to pant as he fucked you harder and faster. God it was like you both were meant for each other cock and all. You looked at him and pulled him closer, getting down from your high. “You feel so fucking good baby,” you whispered into his ear. “I need you to fuck your cum into me.”

Simon growled as he held you closer as his hips became more erratic sloppy. God how you felt so fucking good, his good girl, his love, his everything. What if you did get pregnant? What would happen? God how beautiful you will look full of his child.

Simon started to whimper himself as you sucked behind his ear. Moaning once more. Hitting your second orgasm. He felt his cock twitch faster harder. “Yes yesyesyesyes!” You started to yell holding onto him even tighter.

That broke him. “Oh fuck,” He yelled feeling his cock twitch, his spine feeling like electricity shot through his body, his skin on fire. Fuck it felt so fucking good. “Oh fuck, fuck lovie fuck fuck!”

That’s when his rope of cum painted your walls. You also whined against his neck, slowly letting go of him intensely. You both laid against each other both of your foreheads sweating, panting. Simon was first to move, you noticed he was shaking a bit. You felt his cock soften inside you. He looked at you and placed his hand on your cheek. Simon slowly pulled out and watched as your cum and his cum started go come out.

Simon groaned watching it slowly hit the table. “Fucking hell lovie,” You looked at him smiling. “We are gettin rid of those condoms yeah?”

simon x reader guide

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[lovingksuki]

✰ SECRET ADMIRER pt.2

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

an: guyyyyss it's hereeee. i hope you enjoy since i had many people asking for me to continue with this. i hope it is as good as the first part that btw you can read here

wc: 1,3k

the two went on a mission walking around the school and very non-suspiciously investigating whose hand that might be.

"i'm telling you! there's sato, iida and..." counted.

"are they even suspects!?" you mocked. "we have to be coherent about it. i don't even have a major relationship with them..."

"how could you possibly know what goes on inside other's head? i think you're being biased about it."

"what do you mean?"

"i know you want it to be one of the hottest in our class!" smiled diabolically.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you sweated.

"maybe we should call that double colored guy and just ask a few questions..."

"no way... what are you insinuating?" you almost screamed truly shocked.

"that you have a slight cru-"

"I don't have a crush."

"admit it already."

"I'm not admitting anything. quit pestering."

"you're no fun at all. so... are we talking to Todoroki any soon?"

"no."

"psst, isn't that sero coming this way?" mina whispered looking ahead of the corridor.

the duo telepathically agreed to their next move and mina quickly went in action.

"hey, if isn't our fave tape boy! can I have a high-five?" the pink cheered lifting her hand.

the jet-black haired guy smiled playfully slapping hands with her. watching everything, you caught that glimpse of time needed to take conclusions on the survey.

"what are you two up to? feeling extra energetic today..." sero stated.

absorbed in your own thoughts, you simply couldn't answer any of the questions made, so pinky said in advance: "we're just too excited for the... the-"

"for what?"

"the new movie...! yeah! that one with the clowns. everyone is so hyped to watch it!" mina came up with some excuse.

"oh, so you like 'bloody nightmare' series too? man, me and denki are gathering people to go watch with us." he cheered.

you and mina eyed each other nervously while sero kept rambling about horror films. pinky swiftly poked your side sending the 'make him shut up' signal and you quickly catch the message saying:

"y-yeah! it would be super cool, but we need to... to... go to the 1b room! to dis- discuss the next match-"

"we're discussing the teams for the next training match!" mina rapidly came with an excuse ready to push you up the corridor. "see ya!"

"but guys... their class is towards the other side." sero warned confusedly.

"r-right! it's been months, but we still get lost... hehe!" mina sweated. she spotted a purple voluminous hair meters away. "shinso! wait up!"

and you runned away. sero chuckled observing the girls as another duo approached.

"'sup pal?" kirishima greeted. "it's a important matter so, could you share what are the girls planning? we have business with them."

"it's no use, we're gonna lose sight of them." said the blonde ready to walk away, but his buddy was fast to grab his shirt stopping his tracks.

"be reasonable, it's creepy to chase them around the school." eijiro whispered.

"what are you two up to?" sero crossed arms curious about the situation.

"nothing particularly important. girly borrowed something from bakugo." his heart he thought slightly laughing. "did them say anything about where they're heading?" asked.

"mina said they have something to do with class 1b, and i think they left with shinso." sero explained.

"not that eraserhead wannabe..." katsuki gritted teeth.

"well, no time to lose then! thanks dude." kirishima dragged his best friend away.

when the two males finally found the duo they were shocked to see you holding shinso's hand while walking

kirishima panicked turning to the blonde who watched that scene petrified. it was the second time eijiro saw that expression on his face, the first was when they watched all might last fight. that expression that indicates he started malfunctioning, his thoughts are running wild, and he is about to break.

when he finally inhaled, kirishima's heart skipped a beat thinking bakugo would explode at any moment. he prepared himself to restrain his friend from murdering somebody or start yelling like a psycho, but bakugo just hollowed his lungs right after.

watching deadpanned as you walked away giggling.

that behavior... it was truly concerning coming from him.

"are you totally sure?" mina whispered excited.

"it's a great probability, didn't you see that monstrosity of a hand!?" you whisper-exclaimed. "his grip almost crushed mine!"

"okay, but let's don't get ahead of ourselves, there's other boys to analyze." mina said carefully.

"right, but he's a suspect! and did you notice how he didn't hesitate or felt uneasy to hold my hand?"

"i'm not jumping to conclusions but he seemed too chill! it's almost unnatural coming from a person who wrote a love letter." mina spoke wisely.

"you're right." you pouted.

"what am i suspect about? love letter!?"

"aaaaaack! for fucks sake!" you and mina jolted. "y-you heard us?" you asked shyly.

"were you eavesdropping!?" mina confronted.

the boy leaned in the doorframe crossing his arms unphazed by the pink's attitude. "you're not even whispering... some of 1b even heard about how i have big ass hands and shit." he chuckled.

you looked over shinso's shoulder only to encounter monoma, kendo, shiozaki and komori confusedly observing at some distance. "h-hey guys..." and kendo smiled amused.

"he caught us, mina. what do we do?" you said fidgety.

"there's no other way now that he knows our secret. we must kill you." mina stated creepily serious to shinso, making him falter.

"ha. you almost got me there." he laughed mindlessly. after a couple of seconds staring at each other he came to realization. " you're joking,,, right?"

_

"why did you have to scare him like that? what if he go out telling others?"

"it's quite the opposite. he won't tell anyone if he believes it's confidential information. you can question my methods but not my results!" the pink girl explained confidently.

walking down the corridor in search for another male friend. now that the lunchtime was coming to an end the school was less fuzzy, and the groups concentrated in their usual places.

"uh... mina... you're not actually dangerous, are you?" you blurted.

she looked at you puzzled, as if that question was more complicated than it actually seemed. "why do you ask?"

"it's just because, you're my best friend, and if it were for me to have a psycho so close to me i would want to know..." you reasoned.

"don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "but like you said, we're best friends, that does mean i would probably hide a body for you."

"wait. what the-"

_

"kirishima it's been thirty minutes." the blonde stated impatiently.

the boys were sitting casually at their class waiting for the others to come grab their keys to the closets. p.e was the next hour.

"just be patient dude, when she arrives, you casually get up and go talk to her. do you remember the three steps?" the red haired pointed.

"don't scream, don't curse and look at her in the eye." bakugo grumbled a little skeptical.

when they heard high pitched voices and footsteps approaching the blonde jolted in his seat.

"there they are." kirishima whispered. "good luck soldier"

katsuki got up with a sigh, heart beating fast, he didn't even notice his feet leading him directly to you and almost fainted when you looked at him with those doe eyes.

"h-hey."

"hey!" you greeted rummaging your backpack.

"i was... i recalled that time last week you shared your notes and... i"

"you came to say thanks? it's alrighty! just gimme a shoutout whenever you need!" you smiled

his ears reddened. "y-yeah. but i was trying to ask if ya wanna grab milkshakes sometimes, my treat for the notes." katsuki managed to spill

"oh! i didn't expect that" you giggled thinking that was a cute way to invite someone to hang out. "sure. i provide the notes, you provide the milkshakes." you extended your hand "deal?"

he smirked satisfied shaking you hand.

"deal."

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