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strang3lov3 · 4 months

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Fighting Fair

Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Tags: impish activities, soft dom!joel sorta aggressive joel, forced proximity, cock grinding, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie (always), teasing, dirty talk, almost somnophilia (they’re sleep-teasing each other unconsciously) sexually frustrated morons, good ol' fashioned "we have to get naked and share body heat to stay warm" trope

A/N: I had to drag myself kicking and screaming into writing this fic that put me through the fucking ringer!!! Thank you @theywhowriteandknowthings @merz-8 and @beefrobeefcal for the general fic help and encouragement! And I think also @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi and ESPECIALLY @notjustjavierpena who talked me through this fic a couple weeks ago and gave me the push I needed to finish it when I was stuck. You guys all rock ❤️

It’s too cold tonight, even indoors and with a fire burning. He moved the large sectional couch as close as he could safely get it by the fireplace, gave you his jacket, and you’re still hoarding the blanket. Joel tries to gently tug on the blanket that you’ve wrapped around your body, see if maybe you can spare to lose a few inches of fabric. You don’t budge. Joel sighs, “Y’can share, ya know.”

“This is sharing.”

“It’s not, actually. I’m the one sharin’ here. I gave you my coat, you can quit hoggin’ all the blanket,” Joel tugs harder on the blanket, it’s old and kind of scratchy, worn out by the years. “C’mon. Let up.”

“You can have this much,” You mumble, giving Joel a small amount of the fabric.

“How generous of you,” Joel mutters sarcastically before pulling the blanket entirely off of your shoulders. “Thank you. S’very kind.”

“Hey,” you whine.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He covers his body in the blanket, making sure to cover your legs and feet as well. His hands brush over your own and he winces at their ice cold temperature. “Jesus, girl. Gimme these,” he mumbles, taking your hands into his own and holding them tightly. “Hands feel like icicles.”

“This fucking sucks, Joel,” you complain.

“It does,” he agrees. Joel’s been dreading this point in the year. He’s eased up on his ‘no fires’ rule for the most part, but fire doesn’t help when it’s as cold as it has been. Tonight, he’s grateful you spotted this old house from afar, even more grateful it has a fireplace. But it’s especially cold tonight, maybe even nearing below zero temperatures. Even with a glowing fire and a shelter preventing the chill of the wind piercing you to the bone, he’s not sure that’s enough to keep you both warm. Joel shivers, “This shit’s not workin’.”

You shake your head no. It’s not.

Joel’s not quite sure how to offer up his idea. It’ll be fine, or at least, it should be fine. What needs to happen is you and Joel need to get cozy and share body heat, the real way, with both of your bodies completely bare and pressed against each other.

Most of the time, you and Joel fall asleep separately. Occasionally, however, Joel will wake up in the early hours of the morning with your body inexplicably tangled in his, your head laying on his chest. The first time it happened, Joel was annoyed. “Get off of me,” he grumbled. “Not your fuckin’ teddy bear,” You whined in response, and when Joel tried to move you from him you clung to his body tighter. “Jesus,” he mumbled to himself.

After about the fifth or sixth time of waking up with you clinging to his body, he stopped trying to fight it. In fact, he even started to hold you closer, stroke your hair. Sometimes he’d wake up holding you, other times he’d wake up with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It was nice, mostly.

Mostly. You have the most uncanny ability to tease Joel in your sleep. Your hand will mysteriously travel from his side up to his chest, your thumb rubbing over his nipple. Other times, it’s your leg that brushes against his crotch. Or your ass, wiggling against his morning wood. After you wake, he’ll leave you alone for a few moments to quietly take care of himself, stroking his member to the thought of your naked body, your soft curves and smooth skin. Sometimes he’s not able to sneak away in the mornings and he’ll be hard as a rock and miserable the entire day. It’s unbearably frustrating. He’s never brought this tendency of yours up to you and he never will, because you’re not doing anything intentionally, at least he thinks. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of teasing, he thought he saw you smirk as he left to take care of himself. It was probably nothing.

That’s what he’s worried about. Your body, naked against his, teasing him. His arousal won’t be so easy to hide without the protection of clothing, not to mention he may not even be able to fall asleep. It’s not gonna be an easy night, but it’s the only option at this point.

Joel clears his throat, “We’re gonna try somethin’ different tonight,” he starts, “An’ we’re not gonna talk about it. Ever.”

“Okay,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“You trust me?” he asks. You nod. “Good,” he says, “We’re gonna share our body heat. An’ it works better with skin to skin contact, which means we’re both gonna get naked and close under the blanket, but we’re not gonna talk about it. Not tonight, not ever. Can you do this?”

“I can,” you tell him. You’re not totally surprised by Joel’s idea, but you’re glad he was the one who brought it up. Truthfully, it’s been something you’ve been thinking of doing with him for quite some time now, since the weather’s been getting so cold. You’ve pictured it, rubbing your bare feet against his legs for some warmth. He’ll probably kick you away, complain that he’s cold too. You’ll tell him too bad.

“Okay,” he mumbles awkwardly, “Okay, s’good. I’m gonna turn around and get to it then, f’ya wanna…”

“Yeah, got it.”

You and Joel separate, he places the blanket at his end of the couch as he begins to unbutton his flannel. You remove his coat from your body then shimmy off your pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. You catch a glimpse of Joel’s back, the firelight dancing on his toned and broad muscles, the scars and stretch marks decorating his skin like art. Quickly, you avert your eyes and begin to remove your shirt. You don’t notice Joel stealing a peek at your body, the blush creeping up his cheeks when he sees your bare breasts.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, but you’re anxious. You’re not sure how it happens, but you’ve been waking up with Joel here and there. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night with his limbs inexplicably wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head. The first time it happened, you were confused. You tried to shrug him off of you, but Joel only held you tighter, sleepily mumbling in an annoyed tone.

After about the fourth or fifth time of waking up with him holding your body, you stopped trying to fight it. In fact, you’d back yourself into him, even scratch his forearms to relax him. There’d be times you’d wake up being spooned by him, other times you’d wake up spooning him, with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It’s nice, mostly.

Mostly. Joel has this inexplicable habit of teasing you in his sleep. His hand will mysteriously travel from your side up to your breasts, his thumb catching on your nipples and rubbing them softly. Other times, he presses his cock against your ass, nudging you and gently grinding against your ass. When you wake, you find somewhere quiet to touch yourself, rubbing your clit to the thought of his body, his warm eyes, the groaning noises he’ll make when he stretches in the morning. Sometimes in the mornings, you can’t sneak away and you’ll be soaked all day, miserable as your core pulses and aches for him. It’s god awful, unbearably frustrating. But you’ve never brought this tendency of his up to him and you never will, because he’s not doing anything intentionally, at least you think. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of him teasing your nipples, you felt him touch you a little more intensely, like there could have been conscious thought behind the action. It was probably nothing.

This is what you’re worried about. His body, naked against yours, teasing you. It’s gonna be a difficult night, but you know it’s the only option.

Joel reaches for the blanket, spreads it out as he inches back towards you on the couch. “You can lay on your side like that, facin’ the fire,” he offers, and you follow his suggestion. Joel slots himself behind you and tucks the blanket around both of your bodies, then pulls you closer to his body. “Yeah, good girl. You got it. M’gonna hold you tight like this,” he tells you.

Good girl. His words send desire flooding your veins. Sweet talking in your ear, his hands holding you close and tight. God, this is trouble.

“Just need to scoot a little closer, like–” you back your ass into his crotch, “M’just so cold, Joel.”

Fuck. Joel can feel his growing arousal pressing against your ass. “I know you are, hon, just–don’t move like that on me,” He keeps you as close as he can against your body, pressing the length of his arm against your torso to keep you warm. His hand brushes against your breasts, thumb caressing your nipple. You gasp.

“Need you closer, though,” you mumble, wiggling against his crotch once more. His length hardens fully, prodding against your ass. His breath hitches, “Ignore it,” he grumbles, now annoyed. How many hints does he have to drop? Or are you doing this shit on purpose?

You’re annoyed too, honestly. He’s not directly groping you, but his fingertips have not left your nipples, lightly grazing over them and setting your skin on fire. Do you need to spell it out for him, what he’s doing to you? Surely it’s intentional on his end. Has to be.

There’s a moment where you’re quiet and so is Joel, both of you tired and confused and sexually frustrated with the other. Maybe you’re looking for a fight, but something’s gotta give. Fuck it, you’ll be the one to instigate. “Ignore what, Joel?” you ask, voice incredulous and laced with sarcasm.

“I’m–my–fuck,” Joel stammers. He feels your body move with your stifled giggles. “Knock it off.”

“It’s all for me, isn’t it Joel?”

“Dammit, just–shut up,” Joel stiffens as he feels his face and neck begin to warm. “And mind your business. S’not for you. S’not for anyone,” he lies, cringing internally for his defensiveness, definitely overcompensating. He rolls his eyes, knowing he was right. Five minutes into sharing body heat with you and it is not going well at all. You twist your hips once more. “I said ignore it,” he grumbles, his hand finding your hip and holding it firmly in place. “Not rub your ass on it. Now sit still. You’re testin’ my patience.”

“I can’t help it, Joel. I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you lie.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re gettin’ me in trouble is what you’re doing. Now for the love of god, quit it.”

Ten minutes go by without an incident, and Joel is focusing on trying to sleep with your naked body pressed against his. He’s certainly beginning to warm up but at what cost? He’s breathing in your scent, feeling your warm skin under his hand, which is hard enough to deal with. And then you fucking do it again, because his fingers are still lightly touching your sensitive nipples. “What did I just say?” Joel flips you on your other side so you’re facing him, then holds your jaw between his fingers. “Look at me,” he tells you. “Knock it off. Quit your squirmin’, quit wigglin’ your ass on my–” You can’t hide the grin that forms on your lips at his accusation. You purse your lips in an attempt to hide the amusement you’ve garnered from your payback, but Joel sees it. “Why’re you fuckin’ with me?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You know exactly what you’re doin’. Why are you fuckin’ with me?”

You shrug, “You started it.”

“I never fuckin’ know what you’re talkin’ about,” Joel complains through a deep sigh, exasperated.

“The teasing,” you explain, “You snuggle me and end up teasing me, playing with my tits and whatnot. You know what you do,” you accuse, “So I’m getting you back. Fair’s fair.”

“So you get worked up and you retaliate by givin’ me a hard on. Charming,” Joel grumbles, “And you’re one to talk about wanderin’ hands. Do you know how many times I’ve woken up with your hands in places they shouldn’t have been? Shouldn’t even be fuckin’ sleepin’ together.”

“You never complained about it before,” you retort, referring to the accidental snuggles that take place between Joel and yourself.

Joel wears a confused expression for a moment, then glares at you. He narrows his eyes at you, completely misunderstanding what you meant. In his head, he’s thinking that you’ve just admitted all of that accidental teasing–it has been fucking intentional on your part. He knew it! “Before? You’re tellin’ me this is a hobby of yours?” he spits, “I knew you had ulterior motives with that late night cuddlin’ of yours. You’ve been gettin’ me hot an’ bothered on purpose, haven’t you?”

You sigh, “No, I’m talking about—” and then you realize, if Joel thinks you’ve been intentionally getting him worked up all this time, he’s been doing the same shit to you to retaliate. “Only because you did it to me first,” you accuse.

Joel scoffs. “I don’t believe this,” he scoffs, “I don’t care who started it, I’m finishin’ it right now.”

Your heart pounds as desire pools in your gut, a warm, sticky feeling. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin about,” Joel whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “I’m gettin’ you out of my system once and for all. You’re fuckin’ ridiculous. We’re done with this.”

Joel shifts his arm, reaching for his cock. You watch as he wraps his palm around his member, thumb swiping over his red and swollen tip. His soft belly bulges against his arm that’s pressed tightly against himself as he strokes his member slowly, patiently. When you reach for his cock to replace his hand with your own, you’re in disbelief as he swats your hand away. “Joel,” you whine, confused.

“Was never really teasin’ ya, by the way. Think you’re a little selective in that way. Seein’ and hearin’ what you want to.” Joel accuses in a gentle tone as he continues to massage himself, “And even if I was, you don’t fight fair.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, sweetheart, all that shit you do to me, I’m gonna do right back to you,” Joel reaches for your leg, grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg over his hip, pulling you closer and exposing your pussy to him. “Not going to go easy on you sweetheart, you sure you want this?” he asks, giving you an out. But you nod anyway, your tummy fluttering with desire as your mind begins to race, wondering exactly how he’ll retaliate after being pent up like this for so long. “Good,” he says.

Holding his cock in his hand, he guides the tip to your center, collecting the slick pooling at your entrance and taps the thick head against your clit. He pulls you closer and begins to drag himself through your folds. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“Tryin’ out your modus operandi,” he breathes. “Isn’t this whatcha were just doin’? Rubbin’ up on me?”

“I wasn’t–mmmm,” you hum as he continues to rub the head of his cock against you, “Wasn’t like this.”

“You’re full of shit,” Joel groans as goes up and down, up and down, notching his tip ever so quickly inside of you to gather your increasing arousal and dragging it through your folds, paying special attention to your clit. You’re pulsing, clenching around nothing as he teases you agonizingly. “You’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess. S’all for me, isn’t it?” he taunts you, using your words from earlier. “God, you don’t take much at all. Soakin’ me, sweetheart.”

He notches his tip inside you to collect your wetness once more and you cry out, “Just fuck me.”

“You’re not gettin’ it,” he breathes, “Told ya, you’re gettin’ your comeuppance.”

You feel like you’re gonna burst. He rubs the head of his cock over your clit in circles, listening to your whines of displeasure when he pulls away from you to focus on his own pleasure. When presses himself against you again, he focuses his tip only at your clit, your slick helping him to slide up and down with ease. When he begins to roll his hips for added pressure, you bite into his shoulder to contain your cries. This is agonizing and so fucking delicious all at the same time.

You adjust your hips, simultaneously reaching for Joel’s cock to guide him to your entrance. You need him now. “C’mon, now. You mind your manners,” he chides you, “S’not any way to get what ya want.”

“Please, just fuck–need you inside me.”

“Sure thing,” he says in a honeyed tone. He replaces his cock with his fingers, leisurely dragging them through your slick folds before dipping first one, then two fingers inside you. He finds that delicious spot inside you, but curls his fingers lazily, not yet providing you with what you need. You’re throbbing, aching, hungry for more.

“Joel, not–”

“Shoulda been more specific, then,” he interrupts. Bastard. When you try to argue, Joel flips you on your back and guides his cock to your entrance, notching his tip in you again, this time not leaving. You whine eagerly, wrapping your legs around him and pressing your feet into his ass, trying to pull him closer. You need him inside you, now.

“Not all at once,” Joel purrs as he enters you at a glacial pace. He pushes inside you gradually, letting you feel every inch of him, stopping momentarily to adjust the blanket over his shoulders to keep both of your bodies enveloped in warmth. Joel bottoms out inside of you and pulls back out, then enters you again, so fucking slowly. You’re not sure how he manages to tease you while fucking you, but he’s doing it. You just need more, need it faster, harder, more. You reach for your clit, but Joel pins both of your hands under one of his own as he fucks into you. Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes. “You can cry all you want, sweetheart,” he coos, “You made your bed. We’re not done with this yet,” he continues, “But, maybe if ya sweet talk me, apologize for startin’ somethin’ you couldn’t finish…”

“M’sorry, Joel,” you apologize quickly. All your fire, your mischief, Joel’s now extinguished like a flame.

“I knew you’d be sorry,” Joel murmurs. Knowing how badly you need to release, Joel snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you, taunting you with what you could have and never giving you more.

He’s fucking you at a steady pace now, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. It’s not enough. The wet, gushing sounds of your cunt and the way Joel’s skin feels against yours has you feeling dizzy. Joel’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows you’re aching for release, but he’s determined to teach you a lesson, even if that means torturing himself.

Yes, as pleasurable as this is for Joel to watch you fuck around and find out, it’s misery for him too. Fucking his fist with the tip of his cock kissing your pussy was no easy task, and neither is holding back from how he truly wants to fuck you. Because, truthfully, he wants to fucking ruin you. Show you just what he thinks of these stunts you’ve been pulling. Show you just what he thinks of your wandering hands and your innocent ‘adjustments’.

“Please,” you gasp, “Just make me come, Joel.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. M’not feelin’ particularly generous at the moment.”

“Please,” you whine, “Been needing y–this for so long.”

“Ahhh,” Joel hums, “And the truth comes out,” he groans as he rolls his hips against you, “S’that what all of this is about? Been needin’ me?” you nod quickly, “Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

“Fuck, Joel, I don’t know. Forever,” you cry, “I need to come now, please. Need to come on your cock, fuck.”

“F’ya said somethin’ earlier instead of toyin’ with me like you’ve been doin’, we wouldn’t be in this mess, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how much more you can take. Tears of frustration trail down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides, intentionally, powerfully.

Joel’s right there with you, struggling as well. He wants nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, having never seen anything before so erotic and beautiful as your squirming, writhing body. Your soft body, those sweet noises, that frustrated face of yours. And it’s all at his hands, he’s the one responsible for turning into this mess.

“Fuck,” he whispers through a shuddering breath, “Not gonna–”

“Joel,” you cry, the only word you know anymore being his name.

“Let’s be done with this,” he decides, fucking finally. He circles your clit steadily now, finding a pace and a pressure that has you letting out breathy gasps and moans as your orgasm approaches. “Want you to come for me,” he says.

His words are all you need. That warm, sticky feeling in the pit of your stomach builds quickly and releases almost instantaneously, sending pleasure erupting through your veins. You feel it everywhere, the back of your thighs, deep in your gut. Wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body as Joel’s thrusts quicken as he fucks you at a now frenzied, sloppy pace he chases his own release.

“Fuck,” he hisses, coming with a deep, stuttering moan of your name. His muscles jerk and tremble as his cock pulses inside you, painting your insides with thick ropes of his spend. He pulls out of you groaning, his hot, slick release making your thighs sticky. He places a gentle kiss to your lips and then to your forehead, the action a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. All's right with the world now. Sexual frustration solved.

He takes his place behind you again, pulling you close to his chest for the last time and making sure the blanket is covering you both. You’re certainly warmed up now. A little too warm, even. But you’re not complaining.

“Still not talkin’ about tonight,” Joel reminds you, “Ever.”

“Nope,” you agree.

Another quiet moment passes. For shits and giggles, you rub your ass against his crotch. “But I take it we’ll be doin’ this again, won’t we?” he says, defeated as you continue to tease him.

“Definitely.”

“Good god,” Joel sighs, “Get back over here, then. You drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he adds, pulling you back for round two. He was right, it’s a long night ahead of him.

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nkogneatho · 11 months

Text

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 (𝑭𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑪𝑳)

—cw: fem!reader, diabetes worth fluff, soft and protective dads, megumi, tsumiki as yours and toji's kids, mention of childhood trauma in geto's, dad jokes, not proofread

—a/n: I hope you shed a tear and laugh out loud. Don't let this flop. I actually wrote all of these from my personal emotions and experiences :)) Reblogs appreciated.

#mlist #art commissions #taglist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TELL ME WHO WAS YOUR FAVORITE DAD!!! ༊*·˚

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

All these jjk women clowning gojo makes me think his daughter roasts him at every chance she gets. It's not even on purpose. It's just wise words out of a child's mouth.

"Hana-chan~" he calls her in a sugar laced tone. "How do I look in this?" Satoru pointed towards the awful shirt he was wearing. The outfit was all over the place. It was so bad that even your five year old could tell it.

"Papa's good at fighting, not fashion." His jaw immediately dropped and he could hear you trying to control your laugh.

He knelt so he could be a little more "Hana-chan, don't be mean to papa. It's making me cry."

"She's not being mean, baby. Just telling the truth. I'll divorce you if you wear that one more time," you stated, walking towards both of them.

"Oh yeah," he picks the five year old in his embrace, "I'd fight your lawyer. Daddy's the strongest. Right, hana-chan?"

"But you lost the argument to mama las' night." It was amazing how she can sounds so sweet while ripping your husband apart. You finally laughed out loud because you just couldn't control it.

You would expect Toru to put up an argument at times like this but he just giggles, and squeezes you both in a tight hug.

Yeah. He might be the strongest, but he'd always loose to his two girls.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 .ೃ࿐

Your four year old and seven year old were determined to surprise their daddy for father's day. Toji never credits himself. He does so much, but expects nothing back. The thought of "what my kids might gift me for father's day" doesn't even strike his mind. He goes out and sees all the decorations on the stores with big glittered alphabets spelling "happy father's day" that's how he comes to know about it. Yet, the man wouldn't expect anything. He knows you three love him. He just doesn't want anything in return. His love doesn't come at a price for you all to pay. So when he came home to utensils clanking to the ground, he was worried.

"Oné-san, no. That's not how I wanted yout two write," megumi complained.

"Megumi, I am older. I know what to do." They both were trying to dominate each other on what to write on the cake. When they heard Toji's footsteps, the little boy pushed you towards the kitchen entrance.

"Mama, don't let papa come in now." You were laughing as you get kicked out of your own kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart. I heard some noise. 's everything alright?" Toji gave you a quick peck after the question.

"Oh? Oh that yeah! Everything's fine. I just dropped the pan."

"Are ya hurt?" His eyes look completely concerned.

"Uh hun, I am fi—" before you could complete the sentence, your two cute munchkins came squealing, holding the little cake with small hands.

You moved your figure out of the way so your man can see what his kids made for him.

"Happy father's day, papa." They both wished him with a hearty smile. Toji was surprised. His heart suddenly warmed up to the feeling of the view in front of him. His two babies with flour patches on their tees, tsumiki's messy bun and megumi with cream near his lips, confirming he must've snuck in a taste when his sister was looking away. He wanted to cry.

You looked down and noticed there was a spelling mistake with the word "world" on the cake which was supposed to spell "to best daddy in the world"

"Gumi, Tsumiki, there's a mis—" Toji looked at you and shaked his head, speaking with his looks, telling you to not say it. He did notice it, but he didn't care about the mistake. All he wanted now was to gobble down the cake that his babies made. He pat them both on the head, ruffling their hair. "Thank you, little bears. Lesgo' enjoy this and then papa will take you and mama to the game world you like."

With the way he is looking at them, you're sure he'd eat that cake even if it was poison.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

Geto didn't think he'll ever have kids, but when he was gifted with twin girls, he claims he is the luckiest person alive ever since.

He loves spoiling his little girls. He takes them shopping, pampers them all the time, helps them learn their nursery rhymes. If they ever were to grow up being too bratty, you are prepared to blame him because he never scolds them. He would dare not to. But that is the thing about kids. You don't yell at them. You don't have to be so harsh. You just have to ease it in and make them understand how their wrongdoings can affect others, hurt others as well as themselves.

Something always triggered inside you when you saw him being soft with Rumi and Arohi. You wished you were treated that way in your childhood. You only thought about them being bratty if not yelled, because that's what your childhood was like.

You were working on some documents, when you heard the door unlocking. Rumi and Arohi walked in with their pink bunny bags on their back.

"Mama, we're home!!" they squealed and ran into your arms, as you quickly set the files aside.

"Aww, seems like you had fun without mama. Where's your dad?"

"There." They pointed at the 3 foot box with legs on the door.

"AH! OH MY GOD. Who are you? How did you get in?" Your mother instincts hid the girls behind your back, as you tried to find something to hit the man with.

"Y/N, NO. IT'S ME," the box monster yelled. He moved his head revealing his fox eyes and you could recognize him.

"Suguru? Oh dear."

"A little help please," his voice felt struggled. You quickly sprinted towards the door, and helped him trying to get the box on the floor only two reaveal all the bags he had behind him.

"Did you guys buy the whole store? And what's this? A lego set?"

"That's for you, mama," Rumi stated.

"Yes mama, we got it for you. The biggest one in the store," said Arohi, running towards her shopping bag filled with toys.

"Suguru, for me? Why?"

"Darling. I always see you doing so much for us," his palms now cupped your cheek. "It broke my heart when you told me that story when you wanted the lego set but the responsibile daughter in you felt you did nothing to achieve it so why ask for it. Well here you go."

"I still don't understand," you shaked your head.

"Y/n. It's okay to spoil yourself. You don't always have to work hard to give yourself a little love. These things that you wanted were always yours even if all you did was try." Tears started streaming down your eyes. You felt the seven year old girl in you finally smile.

"Rumi-chan. Arohi-chan. Let's play with mama's gift." All three started sabotaging the tapes and lables in the big blue box.

You felt happy to have this family. You know why he's a great father? Because Suguru doesn't care for two kids. He spoils three. Your daughters, and that little girl in you who wished to have all that you do today.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 .ೃ࿐

A man like nanami will always be a great father. No doubt. But here's one thing you probably don't know about Nanami Kento.

He's a full time salaryman, and part time comedian. Well...probably the worst one because his dad jokes are awful. You wanna know how it started in the first place, right? So it was when you were feeding the two year old the baby food, that you suddenly heard your phone ringing. Kento quicky replaced your place and took over the feeding as you walked towards the hall.

"Aww look at you. Aren't you the cutest baby in the world?" He took the spoon off the alligator cartooned bowl and extended it near her mouth. "Do you want to hear daddy's joke?"

Three mintues later you walked in two the sound of your little girl giggling and laughing. She's never laughed so loud.

"Oh my god. She's laughing."

"Yes. I made her laugh, beloved." Kento looked so happy with the biggest smile.

"Really? What did you do?"

"I said a joke." You luaghed too soon. Was that line a joke because Nanami Kento being comical? No. Impossible.

"I am sorry, baby. It's not true, right?"

"It is. You wanna see? Okay here we go." He moved his head back to harumi. "Harumi, do you know what do you call an alligator in a vest?" Your eyes were hooked on to them.

"An investigator." You couldn't believe your eyes nor your ears. She was really laughing. You chuckled too. Harumi must really loved his dad. Either that, or she has a poor sense of humor like the blonde in front of her.

Since then, Kento always collects dad jokes like pokemons and records her giggling.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 .ೃ࿐

Trust me or not, Sukuna is a great father. I'll tell you why. You don't see his protectiveness? Yeah he doesn't show much care on the surface, but you don't spot how he is always lurking behind you to whoop anyone's ass who tries to hurt his loved ones?

That's how Sukuna is even as a father. He wants his kids to stand up for themselves, but he'd always be having their back. To hold them and catch them if they trip.

"Oh they sure do grow up fast. You blink and they're already in college, y/n," your neighbor laughed with you. It was Akio's fifth birthday party.

"Everything looks great, but... " she scanned around, "don't you think pink theme is too girly for a boy? Especially the flower tiara on Akio's head.

You were irritated. How dare she say that? Unfortunately for her, Sukuna heard it and quickly walked to you. He kneeled to place the sanrio stickers on Akio's cheeks.

"Yeah so?" Your husband questioned the woman. "Who said pink is for just girls? And even if it was, there wouldn't be anything wrong with Akio liking it." The silence followed made it clear she didn't expect the clapback.

"Plus the tiara makes him look the cutest. Maybe you should try one. It's on the counter. You can surely use..." he eyed her head to toe"...some glow up.

She immediately rushed out of the door with her son and not apparently the counter. You three burst out laughing.

"Ugly Bitch telling my son what he should like."

"KUNA!" you slapped his back for swearing in front of your child.

"What?! Hey, if Akio ever wanted to call her that, I will galdy let it slide. In fact, I'll support him."

He might act like an immature kid sometime, but you know you had kids with the right person when he makes sure his children are raised in healthy environment.

Taglist: @denji-star @simp-lauren @katsukichu @bbytamaki @thebrokenkitkat @his-saiko @loml-riri @milophiliac @aztecbrujeria @tohokuu @chailattle @erintaro @pumpumrins @lilitudemon @suyacho @keiskyutie @aiizenn @fluffy-ai @bibemiiu @4sat0ruu @namcore @yuujispinkhair @buerriberry @vagabond-umlaut @thedead101

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bixels · 2 months

Note

Taking the current topic as an excuse to ask you to tell me all the reasons you love Rarijack. Your art for the ship is so sweet and intimate I'd love to hear any in depth thoughts you have.

Breathes in.

I think what makes their dynamic really strong is that they have opposing personalities but aligned values. It's deeper than just "opposites attract." Rarity's fancy, prissy, and femme while Applejack's modest, rough, and "masculine." But both value hard work (to the point of being workaholics), their families (both have guardianship over their little sisters), running successful businesses, and eventually each other. Their relationship can be boiled down to, "Despite our differences/disagreements, I still like you because we value the same things."

We see their relationship develop so much. In the first season, they can't stop bickering about surface-level differences. By season four, they still bicker, but will mend their relationship because they can't help but do nice things for each other. In Trade Ya, they start off arguing over personality differences (Applejack likes old junk and Rarity likes useless crap). Then they pivot and start arguing that they value their relationship more than the other. In the end, they mend things by sacrificing their needs and buying each other a gift. Even if they don't understand it, they know it'd make the other happy. And that's all that really matters. It's a genuinely sweet moment that shows how arguing can be healthy and necessary for relationships to strengthen.

We even see them dropping their hang-ups about each others' personalities. In Made in Manehattan, when Rarity runs off in dramatics about someone's fashion, AJ doesn't roll her eyes or scoff, she smiles. Oftentimes, their conflicts are very common domestic conflicts romantic couples face. Applejack's Day Off is about a woman's inability to balance work and life and find time to properly spend with her partner, causing her partner to feel neglected.

By season seven, they're actively participating in each others' interests. Any problems or conflicts that arise are dealt with, and they come out the other end stronger and closer. In Honest Apple, AJ pretty much spells out why their relationship works so well: even though she doesn't understand fashion, she can recognize and appreciate how much work it takes and wants to respect that. When she realizes her mistake in the episode, AJ goes above and beyond to fix things and apologize to Rarity. They care about each other so much.

The two go out of their way, sacrificing their personal desires and beliefs and doing things they normally wouldn't, to make the other happy. That's just love.

There's Simple Ways, where AJ gets stuck in an unwanted love triangle between Rarity and her hipster crush. And her frustration and anger can be so easily interpreted as AJ finding herself in a terrible position; the girl she loves wants another man, and that man wants her.

I dunno. I've always had a preference for opposites attract ships, but Rarijack's stuck with me like a brain worm because they have the perfect chemistry. The way they show they care, or do things for each other, I've always read it as the truest representation of romance in the show.

#rarijack #i refuse to be embarrased by how much i know about this damn pony show #this is part of the reason why i never bought into appledash unfortunately. their values aren't aligned #rd lies a lot and often for very self serving reasons #and she distances herself from her family because they're. cringe? overbearing? her parents are very loving and supportive #meanwhile aj's. whole fucking thing. is honesty and family #ask me #anon #this is why it's still a little baffling they aren't canon #we got SO much real development with so much potential subtext #and it never really crossed the finish line #i dunno every time they do something to show they care i'm reminded of myself and my partner too #whenever i see something that's inconvenient or complicated or against my personality (adhd haver) but i know it'd make my #boyfriend happy. i do it anyways. and i always think to myself “wow. that's what love is. that's what it feels like”

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hoodzgyal · 10 months

Note

the corruption kink would be STRONG in a roy/jay threesome

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑.

#DESCRIPTION: the one where jason and roy make it their mission to ruin their longtime bestie, the local good girl at uni. mdni.

#NOTES: this singular comment inspired a whole (albeit poorly written) fic. thank u. also the song are y’all are listening to in the fic is sugar by sleep token, hence the name. also pls be nice this is my first full fic omg😚

“I really oughta go home,” you hum as you look at the clock, sweet voice ringing out into the otherwise quiet of Jason and Roy’s shared living room.

The three of you became friends quickly, under the crucible that was a horrific semester of an Advanced Statistics class during junior year of college. Now, a year later, you find yourself spending weekends at their shared apartment, watching movies, playing games, and just existing in their space.

There’s always been a sense of tension between the three of you, whether or be the bizarrely evident sexual tension between Jason and Roy, or you and one of the boys. You’d never dare bring it up, though, for fear of ruining the sacred friendship you three have forged.

The men are seated on either side of you on the couch, virtually squishing you between their hard, muscular frames. The quiet croons of Jason’s favorite band occupy the rest of the space as the two of them indulge in their personal vices, Jason’s being a glass of whiskey and Roy’s being a homemade Old Fashioned.

Though you say you ought to head home, you make no move for the door.

“It’s dark out, sweetheart,” Jason rumbles, sipping on his drink, “And late as fuck. We’ll take ya home in the morning.”

Roy nods at this before chucking your chin, murmuring, “It’s our first sleepover in literally forever, how fun!”

You nod without saying anything, letting a comfortable silence settle over the room, save for the suggestive croons and whines of the song coming from the speaker. You feel heat crawl over your neck and face as you listen to the song, realizing how close Jason and Roy are to you. How pink their lips are. How the taste of the alcohol they’re sipping would taste on their lips if you were to ki-

“Sweets?” Roy leers down at you, auburn lashes blinking in confusion, “What’re ya looking at?”

“You know what she’s lookin’ at,” Jason rumbles, as one of his muscled arms come down to wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place.

Your eyes are wide as they flicker between the two men. You sharply exhale, parting your brown, glossy lips, unsure of what to do or say.

“Poor thing,” Roy drawls, cupping your cheek, “Lookin’ like a deer in headlights. ‘S okay, sweets, we don’t bite.”

“Not unless you want us to,” Jason adds, setting a large hand over your bare thigh. His eyes are lidded, watching you like a predator watches prey. He glances at Roy, and slyly smirks at the shared understanding between the two men. Still, they want to give you a chance to say no, a chance to leave and act like this never happened.

“Say you want us to,” Roy mumbles, green eyes searching your body. It’s only now that you realize how scantily clad you all are, Jason being shirtless, Roy in a pair of loose boxers and a black wifebeater, and you in one of your ratty oversized band tees and tiny pajama shorts. You find yourself nodding, eyes still wide in disbelief.

“He said, say it, sweetheart,” Jason tuts in your ear as he pulls you into his lap. He allows you to settle into him, letting out a low growl at the friction you create while doing so.

“I want you to- ah”, you gasp, shuddering as Roy’s lips find your collarbone. You can feel him smiling into you as his fingers tease the hem of your tee, barely ghosting the waistband of your shorts. Your hands come up to meet his hair, idly playing in it as Jason’s large hands find their way into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips for him, allowing the shorts to slide off of you as Roy works his way around your neck, tugging at your tee with a pout. Jason seems to get the hint as he hums from behind you, “Lift your arms f’me, bunny.”

Ever the obedient little thing, you do so as Jason lifts the shirt over your head, exposing the lacy pink bralette and panties to the boys. The garments hug your plush body deliciously, highlighting every curve and dip as you slowly grind on Jason’s lap.

“You little minx,” Roy groans as Jason’s arms cage you where you sit, “How long you been hiding this from us, huh?”

“Too long,” Jason mumbles, nipping at your ear as his large fingers find their way over your barely clothed pussy, “Let Roy have a taste, hm baby? How’s that sound?”

“So good,” you whine, pushing your ass into Jason’s lap. You can feel his thick cock pulsate as he groans, “Go ahead, Roy. Make baby girl cum.”

Roy all but rips off your panties, exposing your cunt to the cool air. “She’s so pretty,” he marvels, before pressing a sweet kiss to your clit.

You whine in embarrassment, turning your head away from the sight of Roy lapping at your wet pussy. Jason catches your lips in a sweet kiss as he works your bra off of you. He eagerly swallows your moans as his fingers come up to toy with your hardened nipples.

“I want a taste,” Jason says, tugging at Roys hair. He pulls the redhead up for a heated kiss before pulling him back down, rasping, “stretch ‘er out f’me,” as he ruts his clothed cock against your bare ass.

“Someone’s gettin’ impatient,” Roy leers, sticking a thick digit into your glistening cunt, giving you languid, slow strokes. You let out a near pornographic moan at the intrusion before Roy snickers.

“Guess I should add another, huh,” he murmurs, adding another finger. You keen, arching into Jason as his thumb presses on your needy clit.

“Such a greedy little girl,” Jason muses as you moan in delight, “Whaddya want now, hm?”

“Wan’ cum,” you mewl, breathless, “wanna cum on your cock with Roy’s dick in my mouth.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jason smiles down at you, “On your hands and knees. Now.”

Roy smirks in anticipation, stopping the pumping of his fingers to allow you to get on your hands and knees in front of him.

“Open wide,” Roy sings, tugging his red boxers down to expose his fat cock, tip angry and already leaking. He slaps the tip on your tongue a few times as Jason kneads your ass from behind you. He gives it a sharp smack and you lurch forward, gripping onto Roy’s strong thighs with a strangled moan.

“Look at you,” Roy sighs as you weakly stroke his cock with both hands, “takin’ initiative. Such a good girl.”

You can hear Jason hum in assent behind you, pressing the thick head of his cock into your pussy. You gasp, lightly squeezing Roy’s dick as Jason enters you fully. He rocks his hips into yours, allowing you to get your bearings as you give Roy’s dick kitten licks along with languid strokes.

“She is a good little slut, ain’t she,” Jason grunts as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours as you suckle the head of Roy’s cock. Roy mewls as one of your hands comes down to fondle his balls, causing him to let out a strangled moan. His moans grow in volume as you take him further into your mouth and down your throat as he whines, “Just like that, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop, you’re doin’ so good for me.”

Jasons pace grows more erratic as time goes on, and one of hands creeps under you to play with your clit. He gasps as you clench around his thick cock, your muffled whines and moans only bringing him closer to orgasm. Your cunt seizes around him as you cum without warning, whining and keening around Roy’s dick. The vibrations of your voice only spur him forwards as he groans, thrusting forward and painting your throat white.

Jason sighs with pleasure as you fuck yourself back on him, seeking another orgasm.

“Of course you want another,” he grits out, hips snapping into yours, “You’re such a- fuck, you’re just a little whore for us, huh?”

You nod, looking up to see Roy stroking his overstimulated cock, nearing tears. He leans down pulling you into a deep kiss as his tongue probes your mouth, searching for the taste of himself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” Jason whines, ramming himself into you from behind. He slows as he empties his load into you, keeping you on his cock for just a moment longer.

You’re spent, lip gloss smeared, mascara ruined, and lace front messy as Jason lifts you off of his cock with ease, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. Roy palms himself at the sight, eyes focused on the cum dripping from your glistening cunt.

“Hey sweets,” he rasps, licking his lips as they both walk you to the bathroom, “Let me uh, clean you up, yeah?”

reblogs and comments are appreciated !! thanks for reading, dear heart ! also here @xoxoyourdoll !!!

#— evie dreams #— evie’s boytoys !#jason todd smut #jason todd x black!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #roy harper x reader #roy harper x you #Roy Harper x black!reader #jayroy x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x roy harper

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dante-mightdie · 10 months

Text

my thoughts about ceo!john price and trophywife!reader…

warnings: minors dni, smut, blowjobs, finger-sucking, daddy kink, fluff, john spoils you rotten <3

john price is a powerful man…

successful, wealthy, strong, attractive…

what else would you expect from a man who owns his own private military company…

he drew you in the moment you first laid eyes on him…

sat in the back of the painfully boring soiree that you had been dragged along to his black suit, a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other…

he must be an important man here because apparently he’s the only one allowed to smoke inside…

it wasn’t the way that his suit fit in all the right places that made you blush…

nor was it the way he sat… legs spread wide with a prominent bulge on display…

what made you blush… was that he was also looking at you…

it wasn’t long before he was striding up to you, as confident as anything, and offering to buy you a drink…

and the rest is history…

now you’re by his side everywhere he goes, a pretty little thing on his arm to show off and spoil…

perfectly manicured nails, more clothes than you know what to do with, a disgustingly expensive wedding ring…

weekly date nights at the fanciest restaurants, top-shelf liquor and kisses that taste like champagne…

nothing is too much when it comes to you <3

you’ve never had a man that takes care of you like john does…

he buys you everything you could ever want and more…

all he asks is that you sit pretty on his lap and empty his balls for him :(

but he never has to ask :)

you are more than happy to get on your knees for daddy…

thanking him for the brand new red-bottoms he bought you…

sucking on his balls and stroking his long, thick cock…

he’ll watch you with a content smile, interlocking his fingers with yours, watching as the diamond on your engagement ring twinkles in the sunlight…

don’t think it’s over once you’ve swallowed his cum…

you gotta make sure you climb back into his lap and cockwarm him whilst he smokes…

let him stroke your hair and press kisses your cheek whilst he praises you…

“such a good little thing for me, aren’t ya, lovie?”…

he’ll coo the words in your ear before he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, letting you press a kiss to it before he slips it into your mouth…

“‘m gonna give you the world, sweetheart…”

call this man daddy in public and see what happens…

call him daddy in front of simon or gaz… I dare you…

he’ll be dragging you to the nearest private room and tearing your panties off then stuffing them in his pocket…

this isn’t horny but john matches his suit pocket handkerchief to your dress…

this is horny but you match your lipstick and nail colour to the tip of his…

he didn’t notice until you gave him a blowjob and he couldn’t stop staring at your lips sucking on the head of his cock…

“you little minx…”

if you’re really good for him… he might be nice and let you pick a 141 member to have for your birthday…

he’s seen you eyeing up simon for a while…

and god knows the man needs to unwind…

john is an old-fashioned lover <3

he only has eyes for you…

and he’s such a gentleman…

he’ll kneel down and tap his knee for you to place your foot on so he can strap up your heels…

gives you his jacket when it’s cold…

opens doors for you…

kisses placed to the back of your hand…

“love…” “darling…” “honey…” “dear…”

“daddy’s good girl…”

personal headcanon that john is a big james bond fan…

owns an aston martin and everything…

you giggle everytime he orders the famous martini…

john loves it when you spend his money…

loves getting notifications from his bank when you go shopping…

especially when he sees that you ordered something from the Italian lingerie store that he adores…

but he especially loves when he sees that you’ve clearly bought something for him…

£2,750 at The Whisky Exchange, £1,080 at Sautter Cigars…

you know him so well…<3

I feel like this version of john would still have the 141 working with him…

and he’d pick one of the boys to be your personal bodyguard…

maybe soap because he knows you’ll like his fun personality…

john favourite thing to come home to is you in sage green lingerie, white stockings and his bucket hat…

bonus points if you’re already touching yourself when he gets home…

john spoils you rotten on birthdays, anniversaries, etc…

you wake up to dozens of designer bags strewn about, bouquets, huge stuffed animals…

but the most treasured gift john has ever given you is a emerald locket with the letter ‘J’ engraved and your wedding picture inside <3

gonna think about him all day at work…

#john price x reader #price #john price #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #captain price #captain john price #captain price x reader

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thechekhov · 4 months

Text

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH36

Time find out just how fucked up Toshiro got.

Hey Kabru. Chill.

That sure is a normal look to give your team mate. I'm sure you're a normal, well adjusted leader who understands when you step out of bounds.

Bold of you to assume they even care. They're too caught up in the plot of the second arc to even remember you...

So much to question here. The fact that Toshiro has retainers. The fact that they're all mildly bored. The fact that Marcille seems to hate it here. Marcille, hello??? Are you only interested in Falin? Do you just hate people that aren't her?

The fact that she's still wearing the frog costume makes this panel, honestly. What a legend.

This is so wholesome. Laios just decided to therapy this workaholic man all on his own, dangit. If he won't do it, who will? Senshi must be so proud.

Hang on, I just realized--.....is that.

Is that the cat girl...?!!? That I've been seeing? I thought it was just a hat at first, but those are ears, aren't they?! Is she the one that eventually joins the party?

Marcille, you're a beautiful frog woman to me.

If I didn't know that Chillchuck is a dad already, I would have known it at this point. What a thing to say. "oh no, which one of these kids grown men is going to cause more trouble if left unattended"

I'm sure that's fine.

...........

But when you put it that way, it seems a little.... simple?

Kabru is beginning to suspect he's in the wrong class.

"Ah yes, a little freak that scuttles around from paintings to reality and speaks in archaic and mysterious tones. GOTTA be a Sorcerer. And hella mad, too!"

The math checks out, your honor.

Her best, Karbohydrate. She did her best.

Oh Laios, you're a hoot.

Kabru, you literally said Laios is a terrible liar three seconds ago. Maybe be a little less obvious? 😂

...you've done this to yourself, mate.

Okay, you know what. I take it back. I still don't like Kabru but watching him suffer IS supremely entertaining.

Okay, I can see how he might jump to the wrong conclusions here. They did not, in fact, eat the orcs.....

Orcs are duty bound to slap ya upside the head.

I love how genuinely patient Senshi is, and how good he is at listening. Chillchuck was worried but he's just vibing with new friends.

I'm sure they're having a grand old time.

What do those ears do, hmmm?

I enjoy the fact that he says "they're all treated as heinous criminals" instead of passing moral judgement and saying 'they're beyond reproach' or the like. He knows the consequences, and remarks not at all on whether or not he agrees with the judgement itself.

I could also draw some parallels here about how Japan treats all drugs but. Well. That's another topic.

Oh, noooo. As opposed to that other way of dying, where your corpse is dragged about in a carnival fashion after you die, to dry up in the light of day forever after.

Oh wait.

This bitch is really only here for the drama. 😅

FALIN?!?!?!?! MY GIRL

WHY THE LONG......body...?

....................cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. Alright. Okay okay okay. Alright.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #chekhov reads dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi liveblog

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her.

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath.

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl.

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes.

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so.

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction

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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

Text

tiktoks on the paddock

pairing: genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: tiktoks about the paddock are fun

word count: 873

warnings: none

note: enjoy :) it’s a bit short…

masterlist / taglist

The paddock, a place where many things are happening all at once. And phew, for y/n it’s like a feast for content. She loves filming everything and collecting memories. Her TikToks are an absolute favourite by the fans. Loving the content of all the drivers and her.

At the Australian GP, where she finally met Danny again, she wanted to do a TikTok with him. „Please Danny, please do a TikTok with me. I don’t even have to post it, it’s just for me and you“, she pleaded with puppy-dog-eyes and how could anyone ever say no to that face. „Alright, what do we have to do?“ - „Let’s do that one.“

Just guess how many tries it took to finally have a good result. 27 tries, 27! Daniel kept laughing or people would walk in and they had to restart the whole thing.

„Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, please be serious!“ - Oh oh, y/n just called me by my full name, this can’t be good“, he muttered. „Just try please“, she begged him. She loved his laugh, but he did it every time. Okay, she had laughed for the first few tries as well, only because he had laughed, but still.

And then Lando walked in: „Whatcha guys doin?“, y/n did not seem impressed. „Lando, you just walked into our TikTok and now we have to start again, do you know how long this takes?“, her voice serious and stern. Lando put his hands above his head and surrendered. He kind of wanted to ask to be apart of the TikTok, but as soon as he saw the look on her face, he didn’t.

As they finally managed to make a decent take, she was so happy. Doing her happy dance like she did as a little child. Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, the younger driver was just adorable. „Thank you Danny!“ She went and hugged the reserve driver. „Aw, you’re very welcome, y/n.“

And she always did a ‚get ready with me for paddock‘ TikTok, the fans love it.

„Okay guys, hello and welcome to my GRWM for the Miami GP! I am so excited! The Americans always make this huge deal out of the grand prix‘s and we’ll see how it’ll turn out this year.“ She looked into the camera of her phone, seeing her own figure. „Let’s see, I know that Lewis is gonna wear a sequinned purple jumpsuit, should we match him or do our own thing?“ Her hands were both placed on the sides of her head, squishing it, as if this would produce more ideas.

She didn’t pack that many outfits, only recently gotten into fashion, because of Lewis, duh. But you could describe her style as 70s or early 80s kind of pop-rock style, with some floated pants and vintage pieces. It wasn’t unique, she knew that, but it was what made her comfortable in her own body, thats the main reason why she wore it.

„The temperature will be high today and I don’t feel like sweating before the race. I will do that enough during. Hmm, let’s look.“

„I think I’m gonna go with these pants“, she held up some blue pleaded pants. „Yes ohh, and definitely my Rolling Stones shirt. It looks like something Harry would wear!“ That shirt was probably as old as her, she bought it in an old vintage store in Vegas in 2022.

„Oh and maybe Lily has some nice shoes for me and a bag! Let’s go ask her!“ She took the phone off the nightstand and stormed out of her hotel room. She lightly knocked on Alex‘ room and he opened. „Hey y/n, what can I do for ya?“ - „Is Lily here?“, she didn’t even said hello to him. He was taken back for a moment, but he already knew that his girlfriend was higher on y/n‘s list. „Uh yeah, she’s here.“ She pushed him aside and went into the hotel room.

„Lily, say hi to my TikTok“, she pointed her phone at the chines golfer. The spoken to just waved and looked a bit confused. „Lily, my dear, I want to wear these pants and that shirt, do you have some shoes for me?“ She looked at the older girl. „Yes, I have the perfect shoes and a bag that would look so lovely on you“, Lily was excited, always wanting to dress up the young driver.

She gave her some brown faux leather shoes with a little bit of heel. And a brown bag. She also found a hat that would look good on her. Together with some accessories, y/n was ready for the paddock (and finished with her TikTok).

Later that day, the media talked about her outfit and how it looks like something Harry Styles would wear. She was happy to see that they saw who inspired the whole look.

She didn’t do the GRWM often, but what she did was the whole trend stuff, sign her up for some funny filters, who’d she pick to be her Hogwarts Parents or some stupid dances she saw on her For You Page. She was obsessed with TikTok. She usually spent two hours before she went to sleep on TikTok. But who doesn’t.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan

#tiktok #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #daniel ricciardo #lando norris #george russell #lewis hamilton #female driver #gen z

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doll3tt33 · 2 months

Text

‘cause when you know you know ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: As you and Colin snuggled in bed, your attention was drawn to a note peeking out from his pocket. Despite his insistence that it held no significance, his anxious and secretive behavior seemed to speak louder than his words…

Tags: fluff, fem!reader, usage of Y/N (only a couple times), an anxious Colin and an overly curious reader who overthinks a loooot

Not that I think anyone’s gonna be mean, BUT PLEASE DONT BE. I HIGHKEY FEEL INSECURE ABOUT THIS 😭😭 THE PLOT FEELS RLY JUVENILE

"Nineteen... Twenty... Twenty-one! Twenty-one cute lil' freckles on your body, from head to toe," Colin declared triumphantly.

"Are you done yet, ya big doofus?" You rolled your eyes, giving Colin a playful shove. Colin, also known as the "idiot big spoon on your bed," wouldn't stop pestering you or your bare flesh.

"Uh, no? I didn't count for nothing. You know what I'm gonna do next?"

"I shudder to think! But please, do enlighten me," you replied in an airy tone, though curiosity shone through your feigned exasperation.

Seeing every subtle change in your expression was Colin's special talent, one he took pride in. As he gazed at you now, his face broke into that familiar, dorky grin you found so endearing.

His finger traced over the freckle on your shoulder. "I'm gonna kiss each of those lovely freckles on your equally lovely body... twenty-one times. Now c'mere!" he exclaimed, beckoning you closer. "Lemme shower my beautiful girl with some good ol' fashioned affection!"

Before you could protest, Colin swept you into his arms, holding you close against his warm chest. Soft giggles escaped as his lips began to tenderly graze each freckle, starting at your cheek and trailing lower. You squirmed in his grasp, half-heartedly attempting to twist away from his affectionate assault even as another peal of laughter bubbled up.

Undeterred by your token resistance, Colin continued peppering gentle kisses over your skin. His smile pressed against the mole on your neck, then lower to your shoulder and chest.

While Colin had you pinned beneath him, giggling and squirming, you spied a corner of paper protruding from his jeans pocket. Seizing the chance, you snatched it up while his hands were otherwise occupied.

"Ooooh... well well, what do we have here, detective?" you teased, waving the paper tauntingly. "Looks like I've found myself a clue! Hm... I wonder what mysteries it holds."

Colin instantly realized his blunder and made a swipe for the paper, but you held it out of reach. "Could it be a top-secret case file? Or... the numbers to your credit card? Really hope it’s the latter."

His eyes went round as saucers at the sight of the stolen paper in your grasp. In a flash, he snatched it back, hastily stuffing it deep down into his pocket.

"Nothing!- It's nothing, really," he said a little too quickly, his eyes darting about nervously. "Jus’ an old scrap from work is all, absolutely nothing to see here.”

But Colin knew you too well to be dissuaded so easily. The spark of intrigue in your gaze was fixed squarely upon the pocket concealing a supposed "old scrap." He recognized that look—once your curiosity was piqued, nothing could satisfy it but the truth.

"Nah, that definitely looks like something to me," you replied, your eyes still fixed on the hidden paper.

Colin chuckled nervously. "No. Don’t you dare start now. Just do me a favor and turn those pretty lil' eyes of yours away, 'kay?"

He even attempted to gently guide your head in the opposite direction with his hand, but your determination was unyielding. You refused to budge, still staring and now pouting. "Hey, don't push my head around! Just show me, please, Col? Pretty please?"

"Hm... pretty please, huh?" Colin pretended to ponder, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, sorry, still no."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No."

"With two cherries on top? Three cherries and whipped cream?"

"Y/N. No. A gazillion cherries on top won't cut it. Seriously, there's nothing on that stupid piece of paper!" Colin insisted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender.

You weren't convinced, noting the telltale signs that said otherwise - his overly casual tone, the tightness at the corners of his smile, the fidgeting fingers now plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. You could smell a load of bullshit right in this very bed. Colin had many strengths, but lying was definitely not one of them.

"Hm."

Your eyes narrowed into slits, harboring great suspicion at your nervous wreck of a boyfriend beside you. You leaned in closer, and he shrank back just as quickly, as if he were afraid you could smell the truth out of him.

"You're acting oddly suspicious," you observed. "Is it me, or do I feel like you're lying big time right now?"

Colin waved his hands as if to ward you off. "Woah woah, easy there now! I'm not lyin’. Can we just drop this now, please?" His voice pitched higher in a tell-tale sign of nerves.

You let out a whine. "But I know you're lying. Just tell me the truth already. I'm dying over here!"

"No, I won't. 'Cause like I said, I'm not lyin'!" Like he would actually tell the truth. You could practically see the sweat glistening on Colin's forehead. This man had a knack for getting incredibly anxious when faced with confrontation. Seeing him like this, a new emotion began to overshadow your initial eagerness to uncover the truth - fear. It crept up from the depths of your stomach, intensifying with each passing moment. A multitude of "what-ifs" swirled in your mind, ideas bouncing off the walls of your hyperactive brain, all trying to decipher what on earth could your boyfriend be hiding on that piece of paper.

As Colin fidgeted nervously, your mind raced through possibilities for what the paper contained. The most plausible - and worrying - scenario was another woman’s number. If that was the case, why didn’t he just come clean and tell you? He had always been open and honest with you about everything. Plus, there had never ever been a reason to doubt his unwavering loyalty... well, until now.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed Colin waving a hand in front of your face. "Earth to Y/N? You still with me?" he asked gently, peering at you with concern.

Lifting your head up to meet his worried gaze, there was a mix of confusion and disbelief evident in your eyes as you prepared to utter the words you never thought you'd say.

"That piece of paper... does it happen to have some lady's phone number written on it?"

"You can be honest, I promise I won't get mad," you assured, mentally bracing yourself to be hit with whatever response awaited.

“Huh?”

Your assumption clearly took Colin by surprise. Instead of the guilt-ridden glimmer you anticipated in his eyes, you were met with a face of sheer astonishment. Frantically shaking his head, he hurried closer to you on the bed, gently taking your hands in his.

"No nonononono- not the case at all! Not even close, I swear to God. It's just I-... um," he protested urgently, meeting your gaze with an intensity aimed at conveying his sincerity. Relief softened your smile, allowing him to continue.

"No lady gave me her phone number. All the paper has on it is... something I wrote. For you." A touch of pink rose in his cheeks as he dropped his eyes shyly. "A silly, overly sentimental thing that is, well, cheesy. And I mean really cheesy."

Your expression twisted to one tinged with guilt as you realized the weight of your relentless probing, falsely assuming Colin's disloyalty. Furrowing your brow, you directed an apologetic gaze in his direction.

"Shit, I'm sorry Col. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that. But honestly, you don't have to hide anything from me, no matter how silly you think it is."

"And hey, I'm a sucker for cheese!" you added playfully, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "So whatever sappy words you wrote, I promise not to tease - much."

You graced him with a fond smile, hoping to ease his nerves. Colin swallowed hard, visibly steeling himself before digging back up the crumpled-up paper from his pocket. His shoulders lost some of their tension as he smoothed it out, lips quirking up at his own words.

"Oh boy... you asked for it. You're gonna be on a ride to cheese-land supreme with this one."

After a brief moment of silence, he took a steady breath, breaking the stillness in the air. He sat up straight, preparing himself.

"Alright, here goes..." He cleared his throat softly before reading.

"Dear Y/N... I know I should be focused on our latest case, but try as I might, I really cannot get a certain beautiful someone out of my head," he began, lips curling up as he skimmed his words.

"So here I sit, scribbling these sappy words on this flimsy piece of paper like a schoolboy, instead of working as I should. Terrible form, I know." At his own joke within, Colin let out a quiet chuckle and glanced up to gauge your reaction. Finding only fondness and encouragement, he relaxed enough to continue baring his heart through the silly note he'd written.

"I know my work can keep me away too long, and that you feel neglected at times. But please believe that you are always in my thoughts."

He risked a playful glance your way. "Even when you always find a way to talk my ear off or sprawl out to take up the whole couch, you still are.”

He continued, his voice growing softer. "But your quirks could never outweigh all my favorite little things about you, because I love you. I truly do.

Just like how I love that your smile and dimples are the first thing I notice when you step into the room.

Or how I love that your eyes light up at the mere mention of chocolate ice cream, and you'd beg me to buy you some even when you're full.

How I love that your brows crinkle when you think too hard and too long about something.

And how I love that you're the first person I think of waking up in the morning, and the last person I think of going to sleep.

You made me realize that when you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

You weren't expecting that, you truly weren't. Colin's heartfelt words truly touched you. As the first happy tears slipped free, you couldn't help but embrace him tightly.

Though startled at first, he quickly melted into your arms, ever your safe harbor. His familiar, comforting touch - a hand stroking your back, lips pressing softly to your forehead - undid you completely.

"Aw shucks, don't cry on me now," he soothed gently. But you could only burrow closer, overcome by gratitude and love for this man. He understood you so perfectly, from your quirks to your heart.

"Those better be tears from happiness and not tears from how god-awful that was," Colin laughed warmly as he wiped the last of your tears.

"No, it wasn't bad at all. For real."

"For-real for-real?"

"Well, okay, it was a tiiiny bit cheesy. But from the heart, which is what matters."

"Annnd if I detected a certain scene or two borrowed from 'When Harry Met Sally', who am I to judge?" You teased.

Colin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, you caught me copying shamelessly." His eyes were warm as he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But I meant every word, cheesy or not. Now c'mere you." Pulling you close once more, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His words, however awfully cheesy (and a bit unoriginal) they may be, had completely warmed your heart nonetheless.

author’s note:

This feels kinda cringe, I honestly have no idea what I was doing with this tbh 😭 I’m on my period so I kinda got into the feels, then I saw that one scene from ‘When Harry met Sally’, and thought it’d be a good idea to write a fic

In all honesty, I just wanted an excuse to write about Colin, and perhaps strengthen my writing skills ((still mostly because of Colin tho

divider credit: @/vg-k

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cu7ie · 11 months

Note

what do you think toman boys are like in relationships like loyal or nah

content: discussions of cheating, general relationship head canons and love language discussion towards the end.

I think Mikey doesn't cheat because he's lazy. The kinds of relationships he likes are ones of great emotional depth and the actual physical steps required to find someone suitable, hide it from you or eventually break it off is too much. Doesn't have the mental capacity for that level of espionage, the emotional strength to lie to someone's face like that. Toman Mikey does not have that dog in him, Draken has taught him too well. Bonten Mikey has no problem fucking other people however! Not a sad thought in his mind or tear in his eye, might even think about you while he's going at it and wonder if you'd notice the taste of someone else on his lips when he gets back to ya. Sanzu seems like a hopeless romantic with obsessive and possessive tendencies. I don't think he'd cheat but he also has high expectations and probably strict rules for a partner. Doesn't like overly friendly touches and certain attitudes.

Respectfully, I think Bonten Sanzu fucks other people and will laugh in your face about it. But his inclination to do it more rests solely on the idea of it bothering you; he likes making you upset and to some extent grows irritated with the idea he's so invested in you emotionally that a chunk of his pleasure is derived with tormenting you in such a way, but it's a vicious cycle... He finds a soft body to indulge in, but can't help but think of you while doing it.

Nahoya fucks man. I mean.. like I don't think he really pursues concrete relationships in the first place. He likes something ambiguous he can't put a name to, the fun of it is the attention, you know? It's the assurance of something he can come back to, because if nothing ever starts it can't end.

Souya is the complete opposite of his brother. Sometimes he can put in a lot of faith in little time, and he can turn up with the shit of the stick right - and it's the worst, because he can't help but be so genuine. He's just not a liar, doesn't have it in him really.

I think Draken is very loyal. I don't think he'd cheat like cheating on Emma with you or vice versa.

He's very reliable, he's sticking around just because he thinks it's the proper thing to do. Even if he was in love with someone else entirely, if he has an obligation to a partner he will honor that first and foremost.

I think that Baji is… questionable? It's not emotional cheating he'd participate in, I just feel like he's a simple-minded, high sex drive kinda guy. He'll feel... bad about hurting you so much, but also has trouble comprehending why it might hurt. He loves you, isn't that more important? If you don't care that he has sex with other people, y'all should be cool.

Kazutora is possessive above all. I think he considers you less and more about how he needs to keep you close to him more, and he really does like you, just works harder and not smarter.

I think takemitchy is very loyal.. but idk .... I feel like ....

He's only loyal to Hina because she's the only girl interested in him. I feel like if he had Catherine situation - like there was a girl trying to seduce him away from Hina, he'd eat some shit like that up. He's brainless. Not entirely a dick-thinker but he doesn't always use the right head you know???

Mitsuya and Chifuyu are pretty straight laced. Their dedication to people is obvious in canon relationships and I don't think much changes beyond that! I think they differ in their demonstrations of affection, however:

Mitsuya performs acts of service and is a huge gift giver, especially after he gets into design and fashion in his later years. Too often though, sometimes he can neglect a good old fashioned 'i love you' in favor of grandeur and extravagance. He hopes that in any case, you'll love the things he gives you - knowing he didn't get gifts a lot growing up, it's more important to him than you'd think.

Chifuyu is an opposite to him. He is very open with saying I love you to the point where he'll say it in front of other people and follow it up with a kiss (or six), and most regularly he can be overbearing with his PDA - forgoing gifts to emphasize spending time with you and physically being there for you.

#tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #sanzu x reader #nahoya x reader #souya x reader #takemitchi x reader #mitsuya x reader #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revenger headcanons #🌩️ L1GHTN1NG_STRIKE5.pdf

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honestsycrets · 9 months

Text

querido i: a reward of 2099 | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | doubleshot; chapter is safe for work.

❛ summary | it's been a long time since you've been with miguel o'hara. when your daughter gabriella finds his wanted poster, life starts to unravel.

❛ tags | mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, spanish not translated, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats.

❛ sy's notes | here's to listening to the civil wars' devil backbone one too many times. i needed a break from filling most requests, so i only incorporated one very lightly in this piece.

“Mamá, 2099 is a strange amount for a reward, isn’t it?”

Your daughter was a mischievous girl just like her father. She tore down the poster that was tacked up on the homely post office’s bulletin board as you gathered the weekly post. Coming into town was always a bit of a laborious task. With goods to gather and a little girl to socialize, you made it into town once every week.

"Sure is," Jackson the postman said.

“Thank you,” you plucked mail from the man’s dark hands. “I’ll see you next week.”

He wore a warm, kind smile. Working in the post office, he always seemed to be well-versed in what was going on in everyone’s life. His coal-black eyes shone warmly at you.

“Take care now, there’s wild men out there. What with Peter gone and all, you sure you girls will be okay out there? Rio’d sure put up Gabi and you at the hostel.”

Gabi scrunched up her face tight like a screw being twisted into a board.

“That’s real sweet of you to worry but I’m sure we’ll be fine. We've been out there nine years now. I’ll see you next week, sí? ” You tucked your post into a basket that dangled on your elbow, pulling long and heavy skirts to avoid trampling them with your boots as you opened the door.

“See ya then!”

Gabriella stepped out first, pulling on your lace sleeves as a cue for her delayed answer. She wouldn’t butt into a conversation, but she always seemed to hold her questions for a better time. You sighed, looking at the pale wooden buildings. Saloon, feed store, bank, and the occasional hostel. Over the last decade, the town seemed to flourish, bringing all manner of people to your once tiny Spanish town.

“I suppose they didn’t wanna give the extra coin out, Gabi.”

She looked back to the paper in her hands.

“Wanted dead or alive. Notorious badman Miguel O’Hara, 38, native of Nueva… why that’s here, mama!”

Your blood chilled. Congealed even. The sun nearly blinded you, even with the hat that kept the hot sun off of your head. You stepped off the doorway and onto the dusty ground, spinning on your heel to face your little girl with your dark blue fan in your hands, waving the heat of the day off your flushed skin.

“Wanted for--”

You swiped the paper from her fingers.

“That’s about enough of that. We best get on our way, we got goods to buy, the undertaker to see, and a new dress to fit for your papá’s funeral.”

“I was just reading it. In case we see him?”

“We won’t. It’s been a time since he’s shown himself around these parts. You have no business looking at-- that kinda man. He’s a troublemaker. Now get in the cart, let’s not dolly around.”

You would know.

“O—okay, mamá.”

“I’m sorry, Gabi, I don't mean to yell. You’re all I got, preciosa,” you wedged the paper into a new bible, right next to your wooden rosary, and flung it into the basket.

"I know."

You started ahead of her, fussing with your white veil, sparing no expense to the many questions that she had that day. You had just as many questions as she did.

You just couldn’t articulate them to a grieving little girl.

Do you think it's a boy or girl? the seamstress asks a woman in her shop. She fashions all sorts of fashions from birth to death. Her store is stuffed to the brim with frilly and lacy baptismal dresses. Your gaze fell on her belly, tracing the curve.

"Una niña," she says. Her voice triggers something old, some ancient memory you've suppressed. His voice in your ear, a soft kiss on your head. You're sitting there, next to the little girl that he always wanted, haunted by the flood of memories that comes with looking at another woman's pregnant belly.

"You're not like the others. Aren't men supposed to want sons?" you teased him. Miguel snorted, his arm underneath your neck as he gazed up at a sky of glittering stars. The air was lightly warm, a light wind fluttering through the tall grass. Post-relation bliss was warm on his skin, peaceful and quiet.

"For what? Men are jealous of sons," he muttered, shifting his head to kiss the top of your head. "Little girls are... the light in their lives. I'm going to call mine Gabriella. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That's a real pretty name."

"Sure is. ¿por qué?"

You didn't tell him why. That you hid a secret underneath the layers of your dress. A secret that you knew Miguel would have more than an issue with if he knew.

"Mamá?" Gabi shakes your arm, "Mamá we're next."

Your mind likes to pull mean tricks on you.

Wanted for double murder.

Miguel O’Hara was always somewhere between a hangman’s knot and three mouths to feed. For you, the latter. You were under no illusion of the sort of man Miguel was.

Every look at your daughter’s soft, peaceful face at night reminded you of him. You worried that the more she looked at posters of Miguel, peered into an artist’s rendition of Miguel’s slight, sultry eyes, lush lips, and strong jaw-- she might be able to locate the similarities when she looked at herself. That was why you had to take the flyer from her. The artist sure had a fine hand at drawing him, the man who danced in your dreams by a warm fire and stayed up late counting the stars. He’s gotten thicker, you thought. You sat on the rocking chair as she slept peacefully, rocking back and forth on the chair.

A violent knocking at the front door swept you free from your thoughts. You snatched up the silver lantern, yanked a fine ivory rebozo over your shoulders, and rushed down the stairs. The booming knocking became louder, more urgent. The movement was mechanical, with no husband to answer the door for you, you checked the window first. The man who stood there was not a man you’d want to see. Not now, not back then. He had a wicked face that sat beneath a wide-brimmed hat that obscured the balding spot on top of his head.

God, not him. He was obsessed.

“Buenas noches, Doña O’Hara,” he peeped into the window.

“Bendito, don’t call me that,” you rushed out, the heavy wooden door slamming to a close behind you. “I’ve told you already, he is not here.”

“And I don’t believe you. First, your man-loving husband dies. Next, sightings of Miguel a town over. ¿Qué piensas? Hm? What comes after that?”

“My husband was trampled, Aaron. By a bull. He was a hard-working man who worked with violent cattle. These accidents happen. Why don’t you ask the undertaker?”

He wouldn’t. Although you don’t think Aaron is a complete idiot, he surely has his own motivations for which leads to follow and which leads to ignore. Your husband’s death was one of them.

“I’ll tell you what comes next. You come next. It’s only logical that he would come back to you. You have his daughter and all. Or… does he not know about that? I seem to recall him running out of here like a bat outta hell.”

“You’ve checked my property three times. Barn, basement, home. It’s been nine years, Aaron. Gloria a Dios, he’s probably remarried and forgotten me by now.”

“Not according to my reports.”

You hate the twinge of delight that comes from that admission. Your cheeks warm with blood, highlighting the rouge that sits across your cheeks. He chuckles caustically at how easily it shuts you up. Aaron takes a step forward, his deep leather boots creaking along the aged floorboards.

“What’d you want me to do with that information?”

“If he comes to see you, and I know he will,” he reached out for your chin. Your hand connects with his, shoving him back. “Tell me. You know, it’s a crime to kill another man without good cause.”

“You wanna catch Miguel for your own reasons, Aaron. Don’t bring none of that holier-than-thou bullshit to my footstep.”

“She can curse,” he laughs again. “Here I thought you were a good Christian woman.”

“Don’t try me,” He tries to corral you against the door. You flip your skirts up, his eyes following the motion. You seize the handgun strapped to your thigh, threatening to pull it on him. Aaron slides back, holding his calloused hands up. "Get off my property."

“I’m just saying. If you see him, you know where to find me. Who knows, you and I could work a lil something out.”

Even if you knew where he was, you would be hard-pressed to turn him into Aaron Delgado. You knew Miguel O’Hara would kill him. So, really, it was for his good. You watched him beat down the squeaky steps and mount his horse, fading into the distance of dark, twinkly stars. You probably shouldn’t be praying that robbers got ahold of him.

But only Diosito could judge you for that.

You dipped down to pick the lantern up, stepping off the steps to ensure that he was not just off your property, but properly gone. Then, seeing him set off toward town, you gazed up at the deep night sky. It was littered with an abundance of stars, massive and twinkling brilliantly. Miguel’s favorite constellations shone brightly in the sky. The Anglo called it-- Orion’s belt. Around here, it was named for the hunter: the deer, the pronghorn, and the sheep. You count each of the stars on your way back indoors to sleep in your empty bed.

You prayed Aaron’s hunt would be fruitless that night.

With your husband's untimely death came several complex decisions. Namely, what to do with his cattle hands and the animals under your care. You were fortunate enough to have support from the community in caring for the cattle, but you knew human affection did not last forever. You could sell his property at a scam of a price as a woman or you could keep it and work bitterly on the farm.

Or, as Aaron suggested today in the cover of concern, you could remarry yet again. It was nearly the only good option. Working wasn’t sustainable when you had a little girl to raise and a whole host of children to teach, as you always had. It would be nearly impossible to find someone like your dearly departed husband who knew your situation and couldn’t care less about it.

It’s good for a lil girl to have a father, he says. You know that-- but Aaron should be no one’s father. Not Gabriella’s. Miguel would’ve never approved. Neither did you.

You loosened beads of sweat from your hair as you returned inside, the ends of your skirt matted with dust. Gabriella would return home from school soon and you were fully intent on feeding her a slice of fresh peach pie.

You made your way into your home, your boots between your fingers. The smell of a smoky hearth piqued your attention. It didn’t arise from your great big wood stove that sat against the wall, ready to cook fresh tortillas, but the sort of hearth settled in the deep outdoors.

“Dios mío.”

Miguel sat there, plain as a field flower. His fingers tapped over the heavy wooden table, rolling in succession. He’s older than you remember-- jaw peppered with dark facial hair, his hair dark and wild, set away from his kind eyes that caught yours as quickly as you caught his. You dropped your boots at your feet, backing up once, twice.

“Don’t run, you won't get far,” his voice trilled, low and warm. Beside his sombrero on the table sat a thick rope and his gun, you don’t want to know which one he was planning to use today. His head twisted, a mused smile growing on his face. “You look so surprised, amor. You had to know I was coming.”

The nickname cut more than it used to. You had not been someone’s amor in a very long time. Married strictly by the weight of paper, you don’t exactly recall what the fleeting emotion of love felt like. Wisps of it licked a dead flame to life in your stomach.

“Miguel.”

“You look gorgeous,” Miguel hummed, turning his impossibly broad arms one over the other. You don’t remember him being this thick. He lurches onto his leather boots, taking a few practiced steps closer. Brilliant, you think, you’ve languished years thinking of this moment just to smell of sweat and cow shit. You suppose he’s smelled worse as an outlaw, a name that doesn’t quite fit the handsome man before you.

“You were always a bad liar.”

“Look, not smell.”

“My point stands,” you say.

Your normally practiced updo has gone frizzy, bits of hair escaping the clips that kept it flat against your head. Miguel’s eyes flickered over the strands, then down to your skin flush with blood and exhaustion.

“Mine too.”

You stared at him a moment longer before you found yourself laughing, just a light-- a small thing that you had failed to do over the past week. His death, and the subsequent funeral, was all too miserable. Now he was here and for a moment, just a brief thing, everything didn’t feel so earth-shatteringly dire.

He cracks a smile, drawing his hand to your flyaways, soothing it down against your head. You should be more angry at him-- settling you with a baby like he did and disappearing into the long grass with Widow and not a word more.

“I missed you,” you said quietly. His hand falls away from your head, drifting past his dark blue vest, and hooking at the fat metal belt buckle. “Pero… why are you here?”

“I heard Peter passed,” he said in a practiced tone. “I was a few towns over. Seeing how he’s taken good care of you all these years, I dropped in to say my dues to him. Came to see my girl too.”

The grief may not be readable in his eyes, but you know he’s practiced it in the same way you did for your Gabriella. Her only daddy was gone, deep in the cold earth. His words echoed in your ears, cutting through your grief bright and resonant. You wonder if he knew, but logically, you knew he couldn’t. Miguel always wanted to be a father.

“Who’d that be?”

“You,” Miguel turns your name over, making your name sound beautiful and light on his tongue. It’s sweet, like the peach pie cooling in your aged windows.

“After all these years?"

"Claro."

"You... shouldn't be here. You’re a wanted man,” you said. “Aaron is looking for you. You know that, right?”

“He's nothing to be concerned about.” Miguel shrugged off your suggestion. "I'm only wanted in these parts."

“Where else is there?” you said

“Out West. South. You take your pick,” Miguel lifted his hand, tracing your parched lower lip. “It don't matter to me. I seen all manner of places, like it here more than anywhere.”

"There's nothing here."

"Nothing but you."

You felt your stomach swoop, a delight filling it better than any meal you’d had. You parted your lips to say something else, to find a response that would fit-- to tell him the truth. But he left you then, came back when something fit better than the road. You wonder what fortune he must have made on the road that he’d come back. His hand caressed your cheek, rubbing it as if to soothe you. It didn’t.

“You think you can just go and come back like nothing happened? After what you did?”

The front door squeaked, dragging with a long hiss. Miguel peered over your shoulder as if it were instinctual, his hand snapping to the gun on his hip. You stopped him short of seizing his handgun. Gabriella bobbed in, closing the door tightly shut behind her. She wore a plain blue dress, fine ribbon braided in the updo she had on that day. She takes a few short steps forward before realizing who you were talking to.

“Mamá, I’m home!” she gasped. “That’s the man in the— in the flyer mamá--”

“Gabi go to your room.”

“I’m not--”

“Gabriella,” your voice went soft but stern. Nearly apologetic. You had been so hard on her lately. Miguel’s eyes dropped from Gabriella’s huge, doe-like eyes to her nose, then lips. His eyes sharpened, whipping back to look at you. “Por mí, okay? He won’t hurt me. Te prometo.”

She darted up the many steps to her room.

"Gabriella?" He stared at you uncomprehendingly. He quickly goes quiet, searching your eyes for something. You worry that he’s found the truth, your breath light as you walked over to your wooden stove, checking the flame and setting a pot of water that you brought from a nearby creek to bathe with. He follows you to the stove.

“My daughter is home. You should go,” you remarked, less of a command than a meek statement, floundering on your lips at the end. As delightful as it sounded, running off into some other territory, town, or world with Miguel-- it was unfeasible and irresponsible to be with a man whose name was stapled on the bulletin boards towns over.

“How old is she?”

"That's none of your business." Your outlaw hovers over you, absorbing the space, a bundle of heavy muscle and rage that plumes off his skin like the smell of sweat on your skin. It’s almost as if he can smell the regret seeping off your skin, despite knowing you couldn’t have done anything differently. No one told him and you could not reach him. Whatever the reason he stayed away, you were not the one he reached out to for updates.

“Tell me,” he growls, waves of anger causing his voice to shake. The tone is heartless, empty of the nights together, of slipping off with the old cattle hand at night and day, in the barn and the field. You’re stuck in the memory of your lovemaking with your vaquero, now your outlaw man. You missed him.

“Don’t do this. She could be listening.” You pad away from the stove to the window with the hope that he wouldn’t follow. He backs you up into the wall, his calloused hands so tight on his belt that you could draw lines of tension through his veins.

“You're not telling me because she’s mine,” he’s whispering, the words going through your chest, fizzling out into terrible pain. He reaches out, squeezing your hips to keep you put. Miguel leans into your space and buries you in his overwhelming scent.

“What do you want me to say?” you stare at his prominent muscles, the shift that is thrown open to expose his skin. He cups your jaw and throat with his large hand, forcing you to confront the truth. Your eyes blink closed, bits of tears dripping there. Miguel doesn’t have the patience for pity, or empathy, whichever the two you were looking for right then.

“I want you to tell me the truth. It's not hard.”

“Me telling you the truth changes a whole lot of nothing. You're putting her life at risk just being here. You're an outlaw,” you say, trying his rapidly evaporating patience. "You got a bounty on your head."

"It changes it all," he shoves you back into the window, a choked cry slipping from your throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to have the truth. Distantly, you were aware of Gabriella’s feet beating down the steps. You’re relatively certain she’d never gone all the way up to her room. In this creaky house you would have heard her door shut, the floorboards bounce. In either case, there’s no point running away from what you both know to be true.

“Sí, she’s your daughter,” you mustered the words in a bid to get it over with. Miguel always had to get his way. “Now what?”

Miguel flicked a look over his shoulder, marked by the heavy drag of his weighted firearm skidding across the wooden table. A life on the run will do that. Gabriella’s tiny hands slipped around his handgun.

“That ain't true!”

“Gabriella,” you cut her short. “Gabi, bebe, put that down.”

Miguel took a step back, pulling his head back slightly as you shifted in front of him. Her tiny head shook, over and over, tears pricking her bright brown eyes. You fooled yourself into thinking that she wouldn’t listen-- because your Gabi was a good girl. A wonderful good girl who liked nothing more but running in the field with the boys and brightly colored ribbons laced into her braids. She was also a mischievous girl who had been trying really, really hard to be good for you this week. Children had their limits.

“My papá is dead,” she said, her fingers trembling about the thing. Miguel’s head tilted in response, expecting you to take care of it. “His name was Peter and-- he liked sunsets and fluffy chocolate calves and--”

“Badly made blankets,” Miguel said lowly. Gabi lowered the gun, slowly, just an inch or two. “Shorn fabrics, uneven stitching, ugly colors.”

“He liked to make you smile-- be helpful,” he added. You snapped to look at Miguel as he rose his hand to his hips, gazing at the floor and rocking. He waits another moment, noting how Gabriella’s head nodded, rubbing away the tears that dripped off the corner of her eyes with her shoulder. She set the gun down on the table.

“You knew my papá?” she turns her arms one over another. “How?”

“He was my friend.”

“Mamá?” she looked toward you, seeking an answer from someone who wasn’t a face on a wanted paper with a reward of 2099 dollars.

“Peter was your papá but-- Miguel is your padre, mija,” you breathed hard, exhausted from years of suppression. She looks at you, not used to this level of betrayal. Her eyes are distant, somewhere in her tiny memories. She whips around and runs out the back door. Miguel turns his eye out the window, her tiny body disappearing into the deep green fields. The sun blinds your eyes as you look out to the fields full of cattle. He reaches for his rope and gun, settling them in their respective places.

“¡Déjala! She needs time alone.”

He heads out the backdoor. He never did listen well.

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