#painting and hanging them up in her sons room

[puhpandas]

I love my sims save so much they're like my ocs but not really because I'm like a fan of this story that the game is writing itself and I'm just taking and making it better and also making stuff up so it's like I'm a fan but also the creator. and the sims assigns it's own vibe to the story so I actually can try and match it like theres a 'source material'

[hotmencoreplus]

DOMESTIC 141 + KÖNIG HEADCANONS

Pairings: Captian John Price, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: Random headcanons of what TF141 + König are like domestically/ as fathers.

Warnings: Deployment, pure domestic fluff

Word count: 1000+

A/N: Choosing baby genders based on what I can picture more. I appreciate feedback! Let me know what you think :)

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

‣ Definitely 1 girl, 1 boy.

‣ Is very big on respect. If either of them disrespect you, shout, or start being bratty, he is right on it.

‣ Got his boy into football at a young age, and is the loudest dad out of them all. He will be shouting to him on the field just like when he barks out orders to rookies.

‣ Always wants to go on fishing trips. Always. I feel like it would be something him and his daughter do more than anyone.

‣ He isn’t big on technology at all. Pretty much just because he just can’t wrap his head around it.

‣ I imagine him keeping up with the new iPhone models, but would not change a thing about them. This man has default everything on his phone (apart from his lock screen of you and the kids).

‣ He is 100% one of them dads that never know what to call airpods.

‣ “What was it he wanted for Christmas? Airbuds? Earpods? iBuds?”

‣ “Airpods, John.”

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

‣ 3 girls. You cannot convince me otherwise. And he definitely secretly hoped for all girls.

‣ When Simon is home from deployment, they go to him for everything.

‣ Nightmares? You will wake up in the morning to find him missing from your bed, only to find him asleep, half hanging off of one of their beds with his arms round them on his chest, snoring loud.

‣ Simon is so usually on edge, though has learnt to zone his girls out when they are arguing.

‣ “Dad, tell her I’m right.”

‣ “Hm?”

‣ He especially zones out when his oldest girl is talking about school drama. He isn’t listening to a word of it, sat on the living room sofa with his head leant back, eyes shut, humming every so often to make it seem like he is following.

‣ I don’t think he ever shouts. Raising his voice for assertiveness? Yes, but he never shouts at his girls. It reminds him of how his dad use to be with him, and the thought of being even a smidge like his dad really scares him.

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

‣ 2 girls.

‣ He aspires for them both to be bestfriends.

‣ He aspires to be their bestfriends. Like he admires them both.

‣ He will never turn down a tea party invitation. Never.

‣ You’ll be cooking dinner, and have no idea where Johnny is. But you hear distant giggles, and follow them up to your daughters’ room. There, you find your military husband sat at a little plastic table, wearing a tiara, clinking tiny cups together with your daughters and their little bears.

‣ “Well it’s nice to see you again Mr. Snuggles. And who is this new gue- oh, hey lass. Wanna join?”

‣ When they start to grow up, he lets them experiment with make up on him.

‣ And seeing your military husband with sparkly pink eyeshadow on and red rosy cheeks really is a sight for sore eyes.

‣ When on deployment, he will tell any and every story of his little girls to anyone that will listen. He loves to show them off.

‣ This ‘anyone’ is usually Ghost.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

‣ 1 boy.

‣ Definitely has a modern style for his kids. He 100% bought him a pair of adorable tiny airforces.

‣ Is his son’s biggest supporter, in everything.

‣ He is big on praise. The biggest softie ever.

‣ Will put up every single painting his son has made. Your fridge is literally covered in paintings, drawings, pretty much anything made by your little boy, will be put up somewhere in the house.

‣ He vlogs literally everything. More than you.

‣ He watches them all when on deployment, missing you both, usually forgetting about sleep so that he can rewatch his little boy’s first steps for the 100th time.

‣ He also big on getting his boy into his own hobbies. Even though he has no awareness to suitable ages.

‣ You’re on the phone with him one night whilst he is away, as he talks to you about what he wants to get your son into.

‣ “When I’m back I’m gonna take us clay shooting. I reckon he’d like it”

‣ “He’s 2 Kyle”

KÖNIG

‣ 1 girl, you cannot argue.

‣ He worships the ground his babygirl walks on.

‣ He will literally do anything for her. And you, of course. But his little girl is the light of his life.

‣ He loves when he is home because he takes every opportunity to dress his little girl. Every single time he does he is internally screaming at the size of the clothes.

‣ Every. Single. Time. He will come home from deployment with a bouquet of flowers for his wife, and pull out a singular flower before he reaches the door to give to his babygirl.

‣ You are definitely the one wearing the trousers in the household, always having to put your foot down. Because there is no way this man could ever say no to his little girl.

‣ Is always taking photos of the both of you. Always. He isn’t often in photos himself, but will never miss an opportunity to take one of either of you.

‣ When he is home and takes care of your daughter whilst you go to work, he will be sending you videos and photos 24/7 as little updates.

‣ I can imagine him being the driest texter on the planet. Like he is a proper dad, will just send a ‘👍’ or one word answers. So these photos and videos will rarely ever have context. He will just send them randomly.

‣ Is completely unaware of suitable bedtimes for kids. You will spend a night out with your friends, and come back in at like 10pm to find him up with your toddler making pancakes.

‣ “König! She should have been in bed at 7pm!”

‣ “Oh”

[pseudowho]

Thinking about Takuma Ino, who becomes a father so young when you fall unexpectedly pregnant. Thinking about the fear in your eyes, the shaking hands going to hold each other's, the positive test clasped between them. The way Takuma reassures you; "it's okay, it's okay, I always wanted to be a dad...sure, not this soon-- but we'll be fine. Better than fine, we'll be great."

The way Takuma goes for a walk that night, after you've cried yourself to sleep, crouching down in an alleyway with his beanie'd head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly ever be a good father. Wanting to marry you, to do things 'right', but afraid you'd think he only wanted to marry you because of the pregnancy.

The way Takuma arrives on his mother's doorstep (the mother who raised him alone, young, single) in the dead of night, pale-faced. The way his mother holds him as he cries and apologises at the dining room table, his face in her robed chest. The way she cups his face, and stares into his eyes; "we can do this, together, the right way. You're a good boy. Now be a good man."

The way Takuma learns to be a father, from his mother, who was his whole world. The way Takuma works himself to the bone, squirrelling money away, booking in with estate agents to go and view your first home together in a way that makes your hormonal heart clench.

The way Takuma's head hits the pillow, weary after working all night, then comes straight up again as he hears you vomiting in the bathroom, kneeling behind you to stroke your hair back, holding you gently round the waist on the tiled floor; "attagirl...it'll be better soon, right? Toughest girl I know. Doin' such a great job."

The way Takuma takes up embroidery, buying cheap plain clothes for the baby, because he can't afford much, but adding small artistic touches of beauty; a frog with a toadstool hat, a little trailing succulent vine, a shooting star.

The way Takuma is bright and excited; there for every scan, every class, every milestone. The way Takuma puts on a brave face. The way Takuma hides in the staffroom at work, his head in his hands, creaking under the weight of responsibility. The way he feels a strong hand clasp his shoulder, a beige suit, a blue shirt, a leopard print tie at the corner of his eye; "I know you're going to say no...but I'd like to buy a gift. For both of you. For the baby."

The way Takuma feels so ashamed for accepting help; the way a crib, a beautiful buggy, a snug and safe car seat, all gradually arrive at your new home. The way he tries to insist on paying Nanami Kento back. Nanami naturally refuses, pretends to be inordinately interested in his newspaper.

The way Takuma can't help but buy the baby a few beanies. The way you retaliate by buying an outfit that looks just like Ino's. He is thrilled.

The way Takuma's embroidery has advanced so well, he makes four little Auspicious Beasts to hang from a mobile above the crib.

The way Takuma paints beautiful, geometric, zany black and white shapes on the wall in the baby's bedroom; "They only see black, white and red at first babe. Neat, right?"

The way Takuma is pale throughout your labour, his eyes feverish, your pain so much harder than any battle he's ever been to. The way his tears hit him in a huge whooshing breath, a head-holding groan of relief when his baby son is placed on your chest, wet and crying, a little angry clenched face. The way Takuma rests his cheek on his arm at the top of your bed, gazing down and sniffling as his son holds his finger.

The way Takuma takes you both home, proud, woefully in love, still wondering how he's ever going to grow up and be a man, without realising he's already so much more of a man than so many others in this world.

Thinking about young dad Takuma Ino.

[zweiginator]

DESPERATELY NEED U TO ELBORATE ON THE PATRICK'S LITLLE SISTERS BABYSITTER OMFG

brrrrr patrick coming home from college and that's why you're home too. you just need some extra cash over break and the zweig's are so wealthy they're willing to pay you almost triple what you would usually get. so of course you'll watch their elementary-age daughter. she's sweet and easy to get along with and the zweigs give you extra money to go to movies or get takeout for dinner.

so you're sitting on the floor in the living room painting her nails when you almost have a heart attack because the door is flinging open and the zweigs aren't supposed to be back until morning.

you're ready to have her hide behind you when she starts beaming.

"patty!"

he sets his bags down and kneels down to hug her since her toes are freshly painted pink.

"who's this?" patrick smirks at you and you look up at him, still confused.

"my babysitter. mom and dad went out of town."

he reaches out to shake your hand. "hi babysitter. I'm patrick, the big brother."

and now it makes sense; you've heard the zweigs mention him every once in awhile. pictures of him when he was younger are scattered around the house but it's clear they haven't been updated in awhile because he looks different.

he's taller and more filled-out. stronger legs and arms and facial hair that peppers his jaw. in the family photos in the house he's much younger and much scrawnier with an awkward, sheepish smile.

but here, he towers above you and he's confident. he looks at you in a way his little sister wouldn't understand, but you can see his intentions clear as day.

"why are you here, patty?" his sister asks him.

he stares right at you. "just wanted to come back home for break."

"i thought you were going to visit artie at stanford?"

"nah. I'll see him soon enough."

the truth is, he shouldn't be home. he and his parents had had a falling out but he needs money and he knows they can't say no to their son's face. they're still pissed about him being caught with drugs in his college town. the charges were dropped but not without his father, a big attorney in town, talking them down. it wouldn't happen again.

and when you tuck his sister into bed, patrick is leaning against the door, watching you.

he asks if you want to hang out and being in the same house with him, you just opt to say yes.

so that's how you end up in the kitchen. you're sitting on the counter, and patrick reaches onto a top shelf to get some liquor out. his shirt rides up and you look away.

"wanna drink?" he unscrews the bottle.

"just one. i'm being paid to babysit, you know."

"as if my parents don't drink all fuckin' time. you're fine."

he pours you both a drink. makes you clink your glass with his.

the one drink turns into two and then you refuse another. patrick stops too. but the music he turned on is pretty and soft and he's just staring at you. you grip the edge of the counter hard because you're having an urge to do something bad. something you shouldn't do.

patrick steps closer, standing in between your legs. he sprawls his hand on the back of your head and you swallow, big eyes staring up at him. his thumb traces across your cheek and then presses against your bottom lip and you whimper.

and against your better judgment, you tug on the hem of his shirt. he's quick to pull it over his head.

his body is perfect and the vodka is warm in your system. it's making you sensitive to everything around you.

he pulls you into him, kissing you roughly, his hands snaking down your back to feel your ass and somehow your legs end up wrapped around him, your hand feeling his hardening cock through his jeans.

"i shouldn't do this." you unbuckle his belt.

"you shouldn't or you won't?" he hikes your dress up.

"i shouldn't."

"me neither."

he fucks you anyway.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Epilogue

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 3.7k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. A wedding, father/daughter dance, tears, laughter, unprotected p in v (reader's on birth control and they're married now so...), Sarah calls reader Mom, mention of Ellie...

A/N: This is the end, folks! They are a real family now. I'm not crying, you're crying. As we all know by now, this fic was inspired by the song Fall Into Me. Another song dear to me inspired a particular scene in this chapter - Butterfly Kisses. Check it out if you'd like. **it always makes me cry, so beware** This story is dear to my hear and I'm grateful for all the love it has received. Thank you for joining me on this journey!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eleven | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The autumn sun began its descent, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and red as it approached the horizon. Joel stared out the double-paned glass, too focused on calming his nerves to enjoy the rolling landscape of the vineyard below. Palms sweaty and heart thumping heavily in his chest, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, popping the top two buttons open to help him breathe.

“Cold feet, son?” JB questioned from the doorway before slipping fully into the room. Tommy followed behind him, anxious to see why Joel was taking so long.

Their presence startled Joel and he grimaced. “Not me,” he grunted, still struggling to inhale deep, full breathes as his heart raced.

“You sure about that, brother?”

Joel directed a scowl in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t have cold feet, but I’m terrified she does,” he admitted gruffly. He couldn’t meet the other men’s eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“I promise you, son. Spud does not have cold feet,” JB soothed. “In fact, she has much the same worry about you.”

“A match made in heaven, I’d say,” Tommy chimed in with a grin, bumping his shoulder against Joel’s.

“Come on, now. Get your asses down to the vineyard before Maria comes looking for ya. She’s on a war path, that girl a’ yours,” JB directed with a wink to Tommy. “I gotta get back to Spud, make sure she doesn’t run off to find you before it’s time. Meet again at the altar, fellas.”

The brothers watched your dad leave. Throwing an arm around Joel’s shoulder, Tommy led him toward the door. “The ol’ bastard was telling the truth, ya know. She’s terrified of you getting cold feet. Emily and Sarah have been calming her down for an hour now, insisting that you can’t wait to marry her. That girl loves you more than anything, brother.”

Joel beamed, eyes softening at the thought of you walking towards him in a flowing white dress, wildflowers clutched in your hand, and eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy. The mental image soothed his nerves more than any words could and he finally let Tommy lead him from the room.

Fresh air with the slightest chill met them as they exited the building. The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air while guests arrived and took their seats. A charming wooden arbor adorned with colorful flowers, delicate greenery, and a white sash served as the altar at which the two of you would become husband and wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joel walked down the aisle, nodding at some of the guests as he took his place in front of the arbor. He stood tall, looking undeniably handsome in a slate gray suit sans tie, the top few buttons of the ruby colored dress shirt left open offering a glimpse of his tanned chest and a sprinkle of hair. Thick curls were swept back from his face, facial hair trimmed to perfection with that little heart-shaped bare patch visible.

Stepping up to his left side, Tommy smiled broadly at the small crowd. His longer curls were tied back neatly, and he tucked a few stray locks behind his ears and sent a cheeky wink to his woman sitting in the front row. Maria rolled her eyes playfully. Tommy watched Joel’s hand flex, fingers bouncing against thigh in a nervous tick he had since childhood and braced a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, big brother.”

Before Joel could respond, the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon and he stood taller, eyes locked down the aisle in anticipation of seeing you. Tommy rushed off to the side to take his place in the processional.

Sarah appeared from behind a row of lush, thick vines, looking like an angel in a white dress with a ribbon of material matching Joel’s shirt tied around her waist. The little girl insisted that her dress match yours, not understanding that, traditionally, only the bride wore white. But you didn’t give a hoot about tradition, helping Sarah to find the perfect white dress, adding the sash as something unique. The recollection of the joy on Sarah’s face when she tried on the dress for the first time made Joel’s heart melt.

Sarah danced down the aisle; face lit up with glee as she scattered rose petals along the way from a small wicker basket clutched in one hand. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun in a circle, allowing her dress to flutter around her, and tossed the last of the rose petals into the air, much to the delight of the guests and her father.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called, bouncing over to the place she was told to stand the evening before. Joel melted at the happiness on his daughter’s face, and he beamed back at her proudly. The little girl’s antics drew a soft rumble of laughter from the guests before all attention turned back down the aisle.

Tommy and Emily stepped past the vines next, looking resplendent in their formal wear, the shade of Emily’s dress reminiscent of a glass of finest pinot noir, matching the hue of Tommy’s dress shirt. Joel nodded at them as they approached, lips quirked in a half smile. His hand clenched at his side as he fought back the nerves again.

Moments later, the rest of the world fell away when you appeared, one hand clasped around your dad’s arm. The charming colors of the setting sun were no match for your beauty. Joel had never seen anyone or anything so perfect in his entire life. A crown of vibrant flower blossoms secured in your hair, the breeze rustled a few locks and the short train of your simple white gown.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you – not as you walked down the aisle to him, or when JB shook his hand in that ceremonial way of giving you to him, and certainly not as the officiant rambled through the ceremony. To put it simply, you mesmerized him.

He would almost regret it later, but the entire ceremony was a blur. The only parts he remembered included your face smiling broadly at him, the love in your glistening eyes as you repeated the vows you chose together, and the kiss after being declared man and wife.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, darlin’,” Joel’s gravelly voice rumbled in your ear after the sweet kiss.

Your tinkling laughter carried in air, spreading merriment throughout the vineyard. “Oh no, whatever will I do,” you whispered back.

“Can we go dance now?” Eager to get on with the fun part, Sarah interrupted your little moment.

“Of course, nugget. Let’s go dance!”

The little girl squeezed her way in between the two of you and having tossed her empty flower basket aside without care, slipping her hand in yours and the other in Joel’s to tug you both back down the aisle.

“Someone’s eager to get the party started,” Joel chuckled, lips spread in a jaw-aching grin as his little family made their way to the reception area. Your eyes sparkled back at him, full of happiness and love.

The winery boasted a lodge with an oversized deck suitable for your small celebration and enough rooms for the guest to stay the night. The path from the ceremonial area back to the lodge weaved through thickets of grape vines, plump fruit nearly ripe for the picking as the three of you ducked under and around the vines.

The vineyard was charming, a lucky find in your search for the perfect wedding venue. It was the only compromise Joel willingly made on a venue – he longed for a quiet, backyard wedding, but you insisted on something slightly grander in scale.

Maria and Tommy did a great job of recreating the ambiance of that night long ago in Joel’s backyard for the reception. Fairy lights were strung high across the deck, music playing softly as the guests mingled with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in hand. High top tables were scattered about, centerpieces full of colorful hydrangeas.

It was perfect.

Wanting to save money, you kept the guest list to less than thirty people, mostly family and close friends, and opted for a bulk purchase of disposable cameras rather than springing for the cost of a wedding photographer. In addition, you insisted on a tier of cupcakes over an actual wedding cake, the icing matching the ruby red color of wine. Sarah and JB offered to put together an eclectic playlist for the winery to play through their sound system rather than put forth the cost of a band or DJ. All in all, it was an entirely family run affair that didn’t break the bank and you couldn’t be happier for it.

You and Joel mingled with the guests for a while before it was time for your first dance. Staying on theme, Joel had one request regarding your wedding song – it had to be Fall Into Me. You could hardly deny that one request, especially as the song meant so much to the both of you, practically telling the story of how you came together. Just like that night in his yard, Joel sang the words in a soft, quiet voice meant only for you, your bodies swaying side to side across the floor like you were the only two there.

None too soon, your dad led Sarah onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his feet as he danced around, just like he used to do when you were little. Maria and Tommy soon joined them, along with Emily and her husband. Before long, the party was in full swing.

You fought back tears during the father-daughter dance. Just as Sarah insisted on her dress matching yours, she wanted to dance with Joel during the traditional time. You were more than happy to have them join you. The battle against the tears was lost during the first chorus of Butterfly Kisses.

JB held you tighter as the first tear fell, brushing it away with a calloused thumb. “Feels like just yesterday when you would dance around on my feet like that,” he said, voice rough and quiet with the choke of tears in his throat. “Now here you are, grown up and married, with a family all your own. You’re not my little Spud anymore.”

Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, you thought as a sob escaped. “Dad,” you drew out the word in a sob, tears flooding your eyes, falling faster. You could barely get out the next words, throat aching and vision blurry. “I’ll always be your little Spud, no matter how old I am.”

Joel danced closer to you, checking in with a concerned look as you cried. “Darlin’, you alright?” His eyes darted between you and JB, the shimmer in the older man’s eyes matching his own. Dark eyes softened into molten chocolate, and he gestured to your dad to switch partners.

JB let you go after a bone crushing hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of my girl, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, Joel shook JB’s hand. “Always.” He ushered Sarah into JB’s arms, letting them dance for the rest of the song as he pulled you close. Joel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I told you this song would make you cry, darlin’.  Let me wipe those tears away.”

Sniffling, your lips tilted up in a watery smile as he dabbed gently at your face. “I know, it always does. But it’s so beautiful, I had to include it.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Joel murmured, head nuzzled against yours. “Sarah already told me she’ll have this song at her wedding, too. I just know I’ll be crying like a god damned baby during the dance.”

That earned a laugh from you, the tears finally easing as the song ended. “Has she started planning her dream wedding already?” Joel nodded, a chuckle rumbling softly in your ear.

The evening carried on, dancing and drinking and laughing with everyone in celebration of you and Joel. You never really imagined your wedding as a kid, more concerned with being a tomboy and other, more important things. But you think now that if you had it likely would have imagined something exactly like this.

“Come on, Mrs. Miller,” Joel said when the lights finally dimmed, and the notes of the final song faded into the night. “It’s time to say goodnight to our guests.”

“Congrats, brother!” Tommy called cheerfully when you and Joel approached. His eyes large and glassy, a slight slur to his words providing evidence of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. “You two throw a great party. Do you need us to watch Sarah for the night so you can—”

“Alright you,” Maria jumped in, cutting the younger, drunker Miller brother off. “I doubt they want your drunk ass watching Sarah. Do you have someone lined up?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good there. My dad is hosting a sleepover now that he is officially a grandpa. He’s insisting on being called Poppy just like I called my grandad.” You laughed at the memory of that conversation. JB was so excited to have a new nickname just for Sarah.

“Great! I would have been more than happy to help out but I’m going to have my hands full with this one,” Maria said with a gesture to Tommy where he swayed on his feet with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“Alone at last,” Joel whispered, carrying you through the threshold of the wedding suite. “You look beautiful in this dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Any exhaustion you felt from the long, exciting day vanished at the smoldering look in your husband’s eyes. Your husband. Holy hell. Suddenly nervous, you slowly slipped the dress from your shoulders. Though you and Joel had been together more times than you could count, this would be the first time you had sex as a married couple.

Would his expectations be different? Should they be? Were you expecting something different? Should you? Fuck, why didn’t you think to ask Emily about this earlier?

“Darlin’?”

You glanced up to see Joel’s brows furrowed, realizing that you zoned out with your dress still around your hips. Warmth spread through your cheeks in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m… I’m a little nervous for some reason and got in my head about it.”

His lips tilted upwards as he stepped closer to help ease the dress down your body with gentle movements, knowing exactly what you needed to hear. “There’s no need to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just you and me, like it always has been. We just have rings on our fingers now.”

And just like that, all worries fled your mind.

Once your dress was out of the way, Joel helped remove your bra and panties, leaving behind a trail of kisses on your dewy skin. His calloused hands, large but gentle, caressed every inch of bare skin before him, trousers growing tight as his body reacted to the sight of you.

His pupils dilated before your eyes and you pressed your lips to his, tongue teasing into his mouth to tangle with his in a searing kiss. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and something so uniquely Joel, and you drank in the taste like a starving woman.

Still wearing far too much clothing for your liking, you ripped open his dress shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. Oops. Manicured nails scratched down his bare chest, along his belly, until your fingers met the confining layer of his pants. After watching you fumble with his belt for too long – which, in reality, was only like two seconds, you swear – Joel brushed your hands aside and, without breaking the kiss, yanked the belt open and practically ripped his pants open to free his aching cock.

“What a lucky wife I am,” you purred, breaking the kiss, as your hand grasped his length. Your thumb traced over the bulbous head, smearing the precum pooling there, before bringing it back to your mouth for a little taste. “I get to experience this for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t tease, darlin’,” he growled low in his throat. “Besides, I’m the lucky one. I have the sexiest wife.”

Pants and boxer briefs shoved to the floor, Joel ripped off his socks and swept you right off your feet. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he walked to the large bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he never let go as he settled you on your back.

Already dripping for him, and too anxious to have him inside you already, you didn’t need any foreplay to be ready. His cock slid, with torturous slowness, inside your warm walls with the slightest nudge of his hips. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he fucked into you.

A pleasurable burn spread through you, his cock splitting you open. “Mmm, so good. Fuck me, dear husband. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“As my wife wishes.”

Hips snapping, Joel set the perfect pace to bring you to the edge, heels digging into his ass with each powerful thrust. Fingernails scratched down his back, piercing the skin as he brought you to the peak, the orgasm causing your back to arch and muscles to spasm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vise. Gonna make me come too soon.”

The orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over you in waves until you trembled beneath Joel. “It’s never too soon. Come for me, babe,” you gasped when the ability to speak finally returned.

Joel’s thrusts became sloppy near the tail end of your climax, and he spilled inside you as soon as the words left your mouth. His ragged breaths tickled your ear, sending gooseflesh down your body from neck to toes. Your name fell like a prayer from his lips, praising you for how good you made him feel.

“I love you, Mr. Miller,” you said, peppering his handsome face with kisses when he slipped from you and fell to the side with a heaving chest.

“And I love you, Mrs. Miller.”

You don’t know where either of you found the energy, but you made love twice more that night and once again in the morning. After each time, you admired the sparkle of the rings adorning your left hands, the jewelry a tangible symbol of your commitment to each other in this life and the next.

“Mom?” Sarah asked from where she sat doing homework at the breakfast bar while you made dinner. Joel would be home any minute.

“Yeah, nugget?” You grinned, heart swelling every time she called you that. You lost count in the year since the wedding, but Sarah calling you mom would never get old. It was a treasure you never thought you’d experience before you met Joel.

“Do you and Daddy want more kids?” At twelve years old now, Sarah’s voice lost that babyish tone you used to love. She looked and sounded more grown up each day, but she was still her Daddy’s little nugget.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ve talked about the fact that I don’t want to have a baby and he doesn’t want one either. But I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a child in need, if he wanted to. I’d have to talk to your dad about it though.”

Sarah went quiet while you stirred the pasta and checked the sauce. It was nearly ready, just another minute or two.

“Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Sarah looked up from her work to meet your gaze and shrugged her shoulders in a way that told you she was searching for words to explain herself.

“I dunno. I guess I always thought it would be cool to have a sibling, but then all my friends that have one or more always complain about them.”

Tilting your head to the side, you dug a little more. “So, you’re just curious?”

Dark puppy eyes gazed up at you again. “Yeah… well, no. There’s…” She paused as the timer went off and you drained the pasta and mixed it into the sauce.

“There’s what?” you questioned, placing the large bowl of pasta on the table along with a plate of warm garlic bread, hearing Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. “Come sit and tell me.”

Before Sarah could begin, Joel walked in and kissed you both hello. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining you at the table and you both listened with rapt attention as Sarah explained her friend’s situation.

“You know my friend, Ellie?” she asked, to which you both nodded.

“The snarky one in the grade below yours? Yeah, I like that one,” Joel replied around a mouthful of food. “What about her?”

Sarah grimaced at her father’s poor table manners, earning a smile from you before she continued. “Well, she’s in foster care but her foster parents are awful. They drink a lot and don’t care about her. She ends up hiding out in the detached garage all the time, even staying there overnight just to get away from them.”

“That’s awful, nugget. I’ll look into her file on Monday, see if there’s anything I can do,” you replied. You didn’t realize she was in foster care. As a fifth grader, you haven’t had her in class yet.

Joel looked at you with big cow eyes, brows arched in question. You could practically hear him thinking – he hated the thought of a child suffering in any way. Before either of you could say anything, Sarah spoke up again.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could adopt her, and she could live with us,” she said hopefully. “You know, since you don’t want a baby and I still want a sibling. It’s like a compromise or whatever.”

Turning to Joel, you could see the same hopefulness in his dark eyes, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Why don’t you invite her over for a sleepover this weekend so we can get to know her a little more. And in the meantime, we’ll look into what we’d need to do.”

Dinner forgotten, Sarah bounced in her seat and asked for your phone to call Ellie. “You guys are gonna love her, I promise!” Bounding away from the table to call her friend, Sarah stopped short at the edge of the room. “Oh, Ellie loves dogs. Do you think we could adopt one of those, too?”

fin

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[crljhnn]

The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley convinces you to order a new bed by using an interesting tactic. And when you realize you were Bradley's first for something, you're already excited to find out if you can be his first again. Because he was yours, and with one simple word, Noah had you wrapped around his tiny fingers even more.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, spanking, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

After work on Friday, Bradley picked Noah up on his way home. Casey tried to talk his ear off when he arrived at the daycare center. She seemed pleased that Bradley was alone today, and she pulled the clipboard away from him with a smirk when he tried to take it from her to sign it. 

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight? Or another night?" she asked, and Bradley just stared at her. "Us and Noah, of course."

She was probably the same age as you. Maybe he'd been giving Casey some sort of hope when he'd wrapped his arms around you yesterday. But even if he were single, he wouldn't go for someone who worked where Noah went to school. "I have a girlfriend, Casey. You've met her several times. She's on my approved list of people who are allowed to take Noah home."

With a sigh she set the clipboard down in front of him. "I didn't know it was serious."

"It's serious," he promised as he scribbled down his name on the correct line. And then without another word, she went to retrieve Noah for him. It was unbelievable. Suddenly, because of you, Bradley was appealing to younger women. And you were obviously appealing to everyone, including Beau Simpson. Every time Bradley saw him at work, he smirked at the admiral. That man wanted you that night at the bar, but you were Bradley's. He could get hard for you just thinking about it. 

"Daddy!" shouted Noah as he ran across the small lobby. 

"Hey, Bub." Bradley scooped him up and got a kiss.

"Where's Princess? I like it when you pick me up together."

Bradley shifted his gaze to Casey as he said, "Let's go home and get her."

"Do you think she made ants on logs for me?" Noah asked as Bradley carried him outside.

Bradley kissed his son and said, "I think there's a good possibility."

Before he started the engine, he texted you and let you know that Noah was asking for you and for his favorite treat. Your response left him aching to get home as quickly as possible.

My Princess: Of course I made him some ants. I know what you boys like. Dinner is nearly ready, too. Can't wait to see you Daddy.

When he finally rushed in the front door in his flight suit with Noah in his arms, you were there in the living room, ready to greet both of them.

"Princess!" Noah gushed, climbing from Bradley's arms to yours. "I made you a painting of a dinosaur in a crown."

You kissed his cheek and said, "I absolutely need to see it right now."

So Bradley pulled it out of the backpack with a smile on his face, even though you'd completely ditched him in favor of kissing Noah. Because he loved the way you interacted with his son. 

You gasped when he held it up and said, "Noah! It's perfect! Let's hang it on the refrigerator." It actually just looked like some green and purple blobs, but you took it from Bradley's hand anyway as you whispered, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Baby." Bradley had a lot of things in mind for you, but none of them were really appropriate at this moment, so he just gave you a soft kiss and followed you to the kitchen.

---------------------------

After Noah was in bed, you changed into one of Bradley's soft shirts and a cute pair of your underwear. You finally felt like your things were organized neatly in his house and his bedroom. Your house... your bedroom. Just thinking about it made you smile. But the bed needed to go. You'd spent a good portion of your day looking for a new one online, but everything seemed so expensive.

"Why do you look upset?" Bradley asked when he walked in, fresh out of the shower. He removed the towel from his waist and used it to dry his hair. Even when he wasn't hard, he looked huge, and you bit your lip in need. 

"I'm not upset," you insisted, closing the distance to him. "Just annoyed at the price of a new bed."

Bradley ran his index finger along your lip. "You have your pretty purple princess credit card. Use it. I agree, we should have a new bed."

You kissed his finger before you said, "The one I like is over a thousand dollars."

"Princess. You know by now that I'm not going to get mad if you spend money. Thank you for giving me a heads up about the price of the bed," he said, voice deep and raspy. "It sounds fine to me."

When you tucked your face against his warm chest, you whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."

One of his big hands trailed down your back until he was cupping your butt and playing with your lace thong. He slid his index finger inside the elastic, and your nipples got hard as he ran his finger slowly up and down your rear end until you clenched around nothing. "I have an idea," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe it would be easier for you to use the credit card if you got a punishment of sorts when you did."

"A punishment?" you asked, looking up at him puzzled with your chin resting on his chest. 

"A fun one," he said with a nod, squeezing your butt. "I could spank you."

You tilted your head back and gaped up at him as he continued to work his palm along your flesh. You'd never done that before, which wasn't surprising, because you'd never been with an older man before. And that always seemed like the kind of thing a boy your own age would turn into a silly foray into a kink that you thought you might actually enjoy with the right person. "Spank me?"

Bradley's cock was a little hard now as his fingers worked down and down until he was teasing both of your holes. "Only if you want to. Might motivate you to use the credit card," he whispered with a smirk as your eyes fluttered closed. 

You moaned for him, long and needy, and when he took a few steps backward toward the edge of the bed, you followed him. When he sat down with his legs splayed, his cock looked gorgeous. Just shy of fully erect. Long, pink and pretty. 

"What if I don't like it?" you asked softly, taking a step closer to him. 

"Then I'll stop."

"And what if I do like it?" you asked, running your fingers along his thigh.

Bradley pulled your shirt up a few inches and kissed your belly. "Then Daddy will spank you when you use your princess card."

You moaned again and squeezed your thighs tight. "That sounds hot." And next thing you knew, he had you tossed across his lap with your butt up in the air. You could feel the tip of his cock rubbing along your belly as you scrambled to grab the bedding with one hand and his calf with the other. You looked up at him over your shoulder, and before you could say anything at all, he pushed your shirt up and rubbed his hand along your back, butt and thighs. And then he landed a solid slap that left your skin tingling, and you were already prepared to beg him for more. 

He spanked you again, right on the round of your butt, and you gasped, "Fuck. Bradley!"

He soothed your skin with his rough palm. "Do you want me to stop, Princess?"

"No!" you nearly shouted, wiggling yourself up in the air for more. And he delivered, spanking you three more times in rapid succession. "I love it," you gasped, wiggling a little more against his thigh. 

"I can see that," Bradley crooned. "That's because you're young and sweet, and you've never been bad like this before. You never had a Daddy who wanted you to use his credit card before."

His hand landed with another stinging smack, and you jerked against him, panting as you stared at the bedroom floor, waiting for more. Your thong was pulled taut, the fabric tight along your clit, and each movement brought pressure exactly where you wanted it. "Please?" you whined, and you listened to Bradley chuckle as you rubbed your pussy on his thigh.

"Wow. You really want this." He ran his fingers along the length of the strip of fabric between your cheeks, teasing your holes through the lace. You couldn't stop grinding on him. His coarse leg hairs and his muscular body kept you anchored as he spanked you so hard, you clenched. 

Then you were treated to another round of being soothed while Bradley told you to keep quiet. And the next time his hand met your right butt cheek, you jerked yourself against his thigh and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

"Really?" Bradley asked. "Should I let you?" He was back to soothing you and running his fingers across your holes. 

"Daddy," you begged. "I'll order the bed tonight. I promise."

Bradley tucked his fingers inside your thong and teased you as he muttered, "This is going to work out even better than I thought." Then he used both hands on your hips to press you down harder on his lap, and you wiggled until you were moaning and clenching harder and harder. 

"Yes," you gasped, and as you reached the peak of your orgasm, he spanked you so many times in a row, your eyes filled with tears of satisfaction. "Daddy," you whimpered, looking up at his smile and his handsome face. 

"You're such a good girl for me," he praised, and slowly you managed to stand between his thighs on shaky legs. You kissed his lips softly as his big hands gently cupped your throbbing rear end. "I love you. Now order a new bed."

"I will," you promised, running your fingers along his erection. "After I take care of this." Bradley watched you with eyes wide, as you sank to your knees in front of him. You knew how much he loved your mouth on him like this, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His cock was throbbing in your hands as you kissed the angry, red tip and looked up at him. "After I take care of you."

-------------------------------

Your mouth on his cock was always a treat for Bradley, but you still had tears in your eyes which made you look even more beautiful to him as he reached for your paper crown and set it on your head. You kissed and nuzzled his cock with your face before pressing soft kisses along his balls. He wasn't going to last long after the spanking when you were as good as you were. But he was feeling smug; you got off rubbing on him while he spanked your perfect ass. 

He was planning on rewarding you by eating your pussy all night. He wasn't expecting to be the one who got head, but he'd never complain about this. Not when your perfect lips were wrapping around his cock like you were right at home. 

"You're so fucking good," he groaned, head tipping back as you took him deep. He took a few deep breaths as you got him really worked up. You were bobbing and moaning, and he watched you take him as his hands found your face. 

When you popped him free to take a deep breath, a pretty strand of your saliva dripped down onto the shirt you were wearing. "Feel good, Daddy?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Baby, you're the best." He stroked your cheek as you sucked on his tip and kept your pretty eyes on his. The crown was crooked on your head now, and he was just a mess for you. "Let me paint your lips up?" he asked, grinning as he thought about the lipgloss you liked to wear. Tonight he wanted you to wear him. 

You sucked him expertly until he was panting, and then you jerked him off onto your lips and face as you giggled. "You gonna help me get cleaned up?" you asked softly as Bradley looked at you completely mesmerized. He reached to swipe his long fingers through his cum, but then he paused as he remembered the polaroid camera sitting on the dresser.

"Don't move," he whispered, kissing your forehead as he stood. When he returned and got the camera ready, he kissed the top of your head and whispered your name. "Baby, if you think I wasn't wild about the photos you sent away with me, I can assure you that I was. Will you let me have more?"

"Yes," you whined, licking at your lips as Bradley took a picture of you before setting it aside. And he'd fight a hundred more Carls who tried to take such a pretty photo away from him in the future. 

"Let's clean you up, Princess," he murmured, kneeling in front of you and swiping his fingers through his mess. You licked his fingers clean over and over again, and Bradley pressed his lips to yours tasting himself. Then he put your crown back on the bedpost where it belonged, accidentally bumping your butt as he hung it up.

"Oww," you whined as he helped you to your feet. "I'm sore."

"I know," he whispered, collapsing onto the bed and coaxing you on top of him. He ran his palm gently along your ass as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "God, you're perfect."

"I've never been spanked before," you whispered, and Bradley smiled against the top of your head. 

"I've never spanked anyone before."

You looked up at him immediately. "You haven't?" you asked in awe. "I thought you and Meredith..."

But he just shook his head. "Who would I have done that with? I've never had a girlfriend who called me her Daddy before. You make me want to do everything with you."

He watched you preen as you propped yourself up on his chest. "Everything?"

"Everything."

You kissed his pecs as he handed your phone to you. "Am I ordering a new bed right now?" you asked with a little giggle. 

"Yes," he grunted. "Put it on your princess card."

You held up your phone so he could see the bed and mattress you picked out. King sized. Four poster. But he liked it even better than the one he had now. He nodded and watched you purchase it. You tossed the phone aside and whispered, "Just wait. I'll earn myself another spanking in no time."

Bradley kissed you and said, "I know you will. Now let's talk about Big Bear Lake."

"Big Bear Lake?" you asked with a yawn as Bradley continued to soothe your rear end with his hands. 

"Yeah," he rasped. "When can you take a few days off of work so I can spoil you and Noah with a little trip to the mountains? Penny, Mav and Amelia want to go. We'd have some built-in babysitters."

"Mmm," you hummed, a smile on your lips as you snuggled against him again. "Let me talk to Dr. Kelly." Then Bradley let you fall asleep in his arms.

-------------------------

When you woke up on Saturday morning, your butt was still sore, but you were smiling against Bradley's chest. "Morning, Princess," he murmured in your ear. "How you feeling?" He rubbed his hand down your back and gently cupped you.

"So good," you groaned. Truly, you had enjoyed every minute of last night. Plus you were getting a new bed in this room. And Bradley had never spanked anyone else. And you'd slept so well. You straddled his waist, ready to show him just how good you were feeling. "Daddy."

But then you heard Noah jump out of his bed and open his door, and you knew he'd be in your bedroom in a matter of seconds. Bradley sighed as you scrambled under the covers with him, brushing his cock which was already getting hard for you. "I mean, I love my son, but..." he said with a laugh.

"Don't you dare!" you replied with a scandalized giggle. "He's an angel."

"Daddy? Princess?" Noah asked as he pushed the door open. "I'm hungry." He was so sweet, standing there rubbing his eyes as he looked at both of you. 

"Head on into the kitchen, Bub," Bradley told him. "We'll make you something yummy."

Once Noah was gone again, Bradley rolled out of bed, and you wanted to reach for him as he pulled some underwear on. Then he set his gray sweatpants down next to you and said, "Take your time."

You stretched and tried to sit up, but your butt hurt so much. So you just pulled on the sweatpants and stopped in the bathroom on your way to the kitchen. When you looked in the mirror, you were smiling nonstop. And when you went to see what the boys were up to, you smelled coffee brewing and saw your favorite creamer on the counter. Bradley was standing in front of the open refrigerator, shaking his head. 

"What do you want to eat?" he was asking Noah. 

"Pancakes!" he replied from his seat at the table.

He grunted. "How about something I know how to make," he grumbled. "Let's give Princess a morning off."

"I can make pancakes," you insisted, and he turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile. You kissed Noah on the head and asked, "You want butter and syrup? Some strawberries, too?"

"Yes, Mommy," he replied, looking up at you with questioning eyes. Your heart stopped. It must have. You were having a hard time breathing normally as you looked down into his brown eyes and then up into Bradley's. "Mommy?" Noah asked, quieter this time, and you didn't know how to respond. 

"Noah." His name felt so precious on your lips as tears came to your eyes. You weren't sure if this is what Bradley wanted. But you wanted it. You could tell you were on the verge of crying as you stroked Noah's hair with your fingers. 

When one tear streaked down your cheek, you asked Bradley, "Is that okay?"

He was right there with his hands at your waist and his lips next to your ear. "It's okay with me, Mommy."

You kissed your boyfriend hard on the lips before swiping at your cheeks and reaching for Noah. "Come here," you said, picking him up even though he was getting heavy and nuzzling your face to his neck. You kissed him and said, "Let's go find the strawberries in the refrigerator." 

When you pulled out the carton of berries, you let Noah hold them. He looked delighted as you kept kissing his cheek over and over again while Bradley got your coffee ready for you. And he was all smiles just like his son as you held back your tears. You loved both of them so much, and you didn't want to put Noah down. So you just stood in the middle of the kitchen with him in your arms while Bradley took the strawberries and washed them for you. 

Then you whispered to the child in your arms, "I love you, sweet Noah."

"I love you, too," he said with a smile. "But I'm hungry." 

"Right," you said with a laugh. "I'll make your pancakes." 

Bradley had been hanging back for a minute, giving you a moment with Noah, but now his arms were wrapped around you both. He kissed your temple before saying, "Come help me with the strawberries so Mommy can cook breakfast."

Your ears were ringing with the word Mommy. They both kept saying it. You didn't think you would ever stop smiling. You took a sip from Bradley's Getting high is part of my job mug, and you swore you had never tasted anything so delicious in your life. You made pancakes, and they turned out beautifully. You even made some for Noah roughly in the shape of suns and stars, and he looked delighted when you set them down in front of him. Then you cut them into smaller bites and added syrup and some of the strawberries Bradley had managed to cut up. 

"Thanks, Mommy," Noah said as he shoved a forkful into his mouth. Bradley was reaching for a few pancakes from the stack as he smiled at you, but you took the fork from his hand and settled onto his lap even though it hurt your butt.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair. "I love him."

"I know you do," he replied, pulling you closer. "He's wanted to call you his Mommy for a while. I'm just happy you're okay with it."

You laughed and watched Noah eating a strawberry covered in syrup. "I'm more than okay with it."

-----------------------------

For the rest of the day, you and Noah were inseparable. You colored together and did some puzzles, and Noah sat on your lap while he ate lunch. And your smile was infectious. Bradley thought about engagement rings and your birth control for most of the day even though he knew he shouldn't. But how was he supposed to help himself when you were playing tic-tac-toe and eating ants on logs with his son? How was he supposed to put it off any longer when he saw how happy you were?

He texted Mav a few times, making sure he could secure that lake house for a long weekend. And when you convinced Noah to take an afternoon nap, Bradley had you in his arms in the quiet house. He scooped you up as you giggled. 

"Think I should mark you down as Noah's Mommy at the daycare center?" he asked, dropping you onto the bed and climbing on top of you. He made quick work of the gray sweatpants and your thong.

You moaned and said, "Casey would be so pissed off," as Bradley pulled his underwear down and stroked himself a few times. 

"Imagine how annoyed she'll be when I get a ring on your finger," he growled.

You gasped as he pushed his cock inside you, and Bradley devoured your lips with his. You gaped up at him as he pushed your thighs wide and looped his arms around your legs. "Daddy," you whine softly, just spurring him on. He wanted to be gentle, because he knew you were still sore. But he felt feral inside. He wanted to mark you as his own. 

It didn't last long, and as soon as he filled your pussy up with his cum, Bradley pulled you against his side for an afternoon nap in the now silent house. He dozed with you and ran his hand along your back, enjoying the soft sound of your even breaths. He had promised Nat that he would make an appearance at the Hard Deck tonight after missing out on so many weeks. When everyone was awake, he would check to see if Amelia could come over and watch Noah for a few hours. 

But when you woke up and went right back to playing and snuggling with Noah who kept calling you Mommy, he shouldn't have been surprised at all that you didn't want to go out. As soon as he mentioned the bar, you looked up at him from the craft project taking place on the living room floor like he was very simple. 

"What would I want to go out tonight? Noah and I are busy. Besides, if I go and that Beau Simpson guy is there and touches me again, he's getting slapped."

Bradley knelt down and kissed you with a grin. "That's Mav's boss. You know that, right?" 

"I don't care who he is," you huffed, gluing construction paper together. 

"We'll stay in," Bradley whispered, but you were already shaking your head.

"Go out with Nat. I'll stay here with this sweet boy."

Bradley studied you as you looked at him. Your hand was rubbing Noah's back as he used some safety scissors to turn orange paper into a confetti mess that Bradley would be all too happy to clean up later. Because he could tell you were finally feeling like you belonged here without any stipulations or an expiration date. "You want me to go out for a bit?" he asked softly. "So you can have a night with Noah all to yourself?"

You nodded with a smile and said, "It'll be just like when you had the dating app. You'll go out for a few hours and rush back home pretending you're not completely smitten with me and just dying to have a flirtatious conversation on the couch."

Bradley groaned softly and kissed your lips. "I wasn't hiding it very well, was I?"

"No," you whispered. "But neither was I."

"I love you. I'll ask Nat to pick me up for a few hours so you and Noah can play together."

And the two of you were still playing in the living room when Nat arrived to pick him up. You'd turned the couch cushions into a little tunnel and a fort, and you were laying in it together watching Mickey Mouse on TV and eating popcorn. Bradley had to laugh, because he may as well have gone out for the entire afternoon since neither of you noticed him cleaning up the rest of the house as you laughed. 

"Hey, Natasha!" you said, offering her some popcorn.

Nat took a few kernels and asked, "You're not coming out with us?" as she ruffled Noah's hair. 

"No," you replied easily. "I'm going to stay in tonight with the little guy. You got the big one."

Nat groaned as Bradley grabbed his house key. "He used to be fun to go out with. Now he just talks about you all night and mopes when you're not there."

"Sorry?" But you were laughing and looking at Bradley.

"Don't be sorry. I love to see a grown man turn pathetic," Nat replied, winking at you. "Come on, Rooster."

Bradley knelt and then crawled across the floor to kiss Noah. "Love you," he said. Then he leaned closer to you and kissed your cheek. "Love you too, Princess."

When he grunted as he stood, you laughed and said, "Don't drink too much, old man." And then they were gone and you snuggled with Noah.

"Mommy, will you make me ants?" he asked softly when the popcorn was gone. 

"At this rate, you might turn into an ant," you told him, tickling his sides as he laughed hysterically. His chubby little cheeks were pink, and he looked so happy. He was a tiny, overjoyed version of Bradley, and you loved him so much.

"An ant! Mommy, you're funny," he giggled, and you scooped him up and took him into the kitchen. Once you peeled and sliced the carrots, you let him use a spoon to glob the peanut butter on them, and subsequently also on the kitchen counter. He sprinkled on some raisins and took a bite. 

By the time you got him into a bath, he had peanut butter everywhere, and your face hurt from smiling. You and he had a rubber duck battle until your clothing was wet. And you read eight books to him before bed, including the ones that you picked out at the bookshop with Bradley. Noah was yawning and trying to keep his eyes open as he sat on your lap, and if this is what being his Mom was like, you never wanted it to stop.

"Love you, sweet Noah," you whispered, smothering him in kisses once he was in bed. You quietly organized the books on his shelf and watched him drift to sleep. You turned on his night light and eventually slipped out of his bedroom. Then you leaned against the wall in the hallway, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything. 

Then you giggled. Bradley mentioned a ring earlier. Noah felt like he was yours. Bradley felt like he'd never let you go. All of the sweet gestures and the afternoon sex left you tingling. When you went to turn on his favorite song so you could take a shower, you saw a message from Natasha on your phone. 

Fair warning... he's pretty drunk. I'll return him home in one piece, but then he's your problem.

You took a quick shower, still smiling, and then slipped into a pair of your underwear and one of Bradley's oversized tropical print shirts that fell to your mid thigh. You did up most of the buttons and grabbed some Skittles from the kitchen. You were about halfway through a documentary about a serial killer when you heard someone pull into the driveway. 

Your heart beat a little faster as you peeked out the window and watched Bradley being led up the sidewalk by his best friend. "Easy," Natasha said as if she was talking to a confused animal. 

"Just wanna see her," he replied, way too loud as she tried to quiet him down. 

"She lives with you now, Rooster. You see her all the time."

Bradley just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and started to chuckle. "She fucking lives with me, Nat. It's wild, right? Like she lives here now."

"Yes, she does," Nat grunted, trying to push him the rest of the way up to the porch. But he wasn't budging, and you were laughing now. You decided to give her a break and open the front door.

"Hi," you said softly, and then Bradley was coming for you so fast, Natasha almost lost her footing. You were in his arms before you could say anything else. He smelled like cheap beer, and his eyes were soft as he looked at you. "Did you have fun, Daddy?"

"Mmm," he hummed, pushing you backwards into the house. "Love it when you call me that."

You giggled as you felt his mustache on your neck, and you waved to his best friend as she headed back to her SUV. Bradley kicked the door closed behind him as you whispered, "I think you missed me."

He had one big hand at the back of your neck and the other was up underneath the shirt, skimming along your still sore rear end, making you press yourself against him. "You're so pretty, Baby."

You felt warm all over as he patted your butt gently with a little smirk on his face. You gasped and clung to him, your arms looped around his neck, and then his lips found yours. He tasted like beer, and as you parted your lips for him, he backed you up against the TV stand. It was just like the first night he kissed you, and he was still as gentle as he always was, if not a tiny bit more demanding. 

"I love you," he grunted. "And you're wearing my shirt. Looks great on you."

"Tell me about your night, Daddy," you coaxed, running your fingers through his hair. 

But he just started rambling as he unbuttoned the shirt with clumsy fingers. "Gonna take you to that lake house. Already talked to Penny about it tonight." Then he abandoned the buttons and cupped your chin in one big palm. His eyes were hazy and fighting for focus as he kissed your forehead. His voice was deep and filled with something a little dangerous as he asked, "When you gonna let me fuck a baby into you?"

He was stroking your jaw with his long fingers, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer as the TV stand pressed into the backs of your thighs. He was more than twelve years older than you, and he'd been hinting at this for a while. It had always sounded appealing, but now that the three of you were on the same page about Noah calling you Mommy, you wanted it even more. "We should talk about this when you're sober," you told him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

"You know I'm gonna feel the same way tomorrow," he whispered, a soft smile touching his lips now. "I'm getting old, Princess. I want another baby. With you."

He was such a good father, so patient and loving with Noah. The idea of him holding a tiny baby- your tiny baby- was almost too much. You let your head tip back as you moaned, "You're not old, Daddy. You're a classic. Let's go to bed."

After he carried you to the bedroom and set you down in bed, he pushed you back against the pillows with his delicious body weight. "You're not wrong. I've been drinking. You don't owe me a real response tonight. But next time we talk about it, I want an answer from you."

You nodded as he eased his body away from yours, and you watched him strip out of his clothing and head to the bathroom. You were going to have to figure out a way to put your feelings into words. 

---------------------------

Princess Mommy and her purple credit card. Fucking lucky bitch (affectionate). Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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[franzkafkagf]

Bag of Bones

summary ♡ Aegon, consumed by hatred and grief, seeks out Helaena in a desperate attempt to find solace and connection amidst their shared tragedy.

pairing ♡ Aegon II Targaryen x Helaena Targaryen

tags ♡ 18+, MINORS DNI! grief sex, angst, codependency, mild dubcon

wordcount ♡ 2k

song rec ♡ Bag of Bones – Mitski

read it on ao3

He fucking hated the Red Keep. He hated everything about it.

He hated the stench of old stone that seemed to linger on everything. He hated the paintings and tapestries adorning the cold stone walls. He hated the memories he made inside these wretched walls.

The torches cast long shadows as he moved through the hallways, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Blood clung to his garments, smeared his hands, and marred his face. The metallic scent of it filled his nostrils, it was the smell of justice, for all he cared. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound of it travelling all the way up to his ears; he could barely hear his own thoughts over it.

He had a clear destination, a single place where he might find peace, or at least understanding. He stopped in front of a wooden door, his hand trembling pathetically as he raised it to knock. The wood felt rough under his knuckles.

No reaction from the other side. The silence was like a hot knife to his flesh, cutting deeper the longer he waited. For a moment, he wondered if she was even there, if she could sense his presence through the heavy wooden door.

He knocked again, harder this time. Still, there was no answer.

His throat tightened, and he felt a surge of panic build inside him. He couldn’t bear it if she wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t speak to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the door open. It creaked on its hinges, the sound loud and jarring in the oppressive and unnatural quiet of the chamber. The air inside was stale, heavy with the godawful stench of the Keep. The only source of light was a nearly burnt-out candle on the nightstand, its wax dripping slowly to the floor.

On the edge of the bed, he saw her—a woman, her form slumped and defeated. Helaena, his wife, his sister.

Her head was lowered, her silver hair hanging in loose, tangled strands that obscured her face partially. Did she want to hide from prying eyes, or just his? The sight of her like this made him bite the inside of his cheek raw until he tasted blood.

“Helaena.” His voice cracked with emotion as the words left the threshold of his lips. She didn’t stir, she didn’t even seem to hear him.

He took a tentative step forward, his boots dragging against the floor. “Helaena,” he repeated, more insistent this time. Still, there was no response.

Why couldn’t she offer him at least this? At least a reaction? These past two weeks had been the worst of his life. They hadn’t talked since. How hadn’t they talked since?

Aegon felt a tear slip down his cheek, mixing with the blood that stained his skin. He moved closer, desperate for anything. He wanted to touch her, he wanted her to hold him. He wanted to tell her what he had done, he wanted her to tell him that everything would be alright, even though he knew it was a lie.

“Helaena, please,” he whispered as he fell to his knees in front of her. “Look at me.”

She didn't move, didn't lift her head, didn't offer the slightest indication that she had heard him. The silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of the entire Keep. He needed her to acknowledge him, to show some sign of life, but she remained as still and silent as a statue.

Desperation clawed at his insides. He reached out and grasped her hands, smearing her pale skin with blood. “Helaena, I killed one of them. One of the men who took our son. He suffered, Helaena. For a week, he suffered greatly. I didn’t let him go easy.”

Her fingers were cold and limp in his grasp. She didn’t react, didn’t seem to notice the blood now staining her hands. She was far beyond his reach.

Frustration surged within him, and he tightened his grip on her hands, his knuckles turning white. “Helaena, please,” he begged her, not befitting of a king. “Look at me. Say something.”

Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. There was no recognition in them, nothing from the woman he had known. Just an empty void that mirrored the hollowness in his own soul.

“We will fall, Aegon. You will fall, and I will fall. Jaehaera will fall, and Maelor...” Her voice broke on the name, and she screamed, burying her face in her hands, her nails digging into her flesh.

“No!” Aegon cried, reaching out to stop her. He grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. “Stop, Helaena. Please, stop.”

She looked at him with wild, tear-filled eyes. “I see it,” she said, her voice shaking and frenzied. “I see our end. There is no escape.”

He shook his head fiercely, refusing to accept her words. This was all he had left, it would break him. “I will avenge Jaehaerys.” It was his promise to make. “I killed one of them. I will find the other, I will have all the rat catchers in the city hanged if I must. Then I will burn Rhaenyra. She will burn for what she did, rest assured.”

Helaena’s eyes were distant and unfocused again, she swayed and let her back fall on the mattress. “The rats will come again,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “They always come again.”

Aegon felt a sob rise in his throat, he climbed on top of her on the bed, hands cupping her face. “Please come back to me. I need you. Our children need you.”

He felt the weight of his grief, heavier than anything he had ever experienced. All his thoughts over the past weeks had been consumed by revenge. Cutting off the butcher's fingers and breaking his bones had offered some semblance of solace, a brief respite from the constant agony. But now, seeing Helaena unresponsive like this, it all felt futile. He started to cry, his hot tears falling onto her skin.

“We’re already dead, Aegon. You and I. Jaehaera, Maelor. We are all dead.”

“No,” he sobbed, shaking his head as he cradled her face in his hands. “Don’t say that. Don’t speak like that. We’re alive, Helaena. I can still fight. We can still—”

“We’re ghosts.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t.” Desperation clawed at his insides as he caressed her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away his own tears on her face, leaving smears of blood. “We are not dead yet. I will burn them Helaena I—”

“The flames will consume us all.” She didn’t seem to hear him anymore. “They will burn until there’s nothing left but ashes.”

It was all too much. The resignation in her voice, the stench of the fucking Keep in the chamber, the feeling of blood clinging to him like a second skin. Aegon leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, desperate to silence her. He couldn’t bear to hear any more of her prophecies, couldn’t endure it. He kissed her with everything he could muster up, trying to pour all his love and his pain into that single moment.

His soul was an ugly little thing, it had shriveled and shrunk from the years of neglect. His love was pathetic, he knew that, but it was all he had to offer her at this moment.

The kiss was a frantic attempt to drown out the crushing despair with something, with anything, that felt alive. He felt her hesitate, her lips cold and unresponsive at first. But then, after what seemed like an eternity, she began to kiss him back. It was tentative, a flicker of the warmth he remembered, and it ignited a desperate hope within him. His hands wandered down her body, tracing the familiar paths, seeking what they had once shared.

He thought of all the times he had fucked her. He needed this, needed to feel her, to remind her and himself that they were still here, still alive. He fumbled with the ties of her nightgown, freeing her from its confines. It was only now that he noticed how much weight she had lost. Where she was soft and inviting once, she was hard and angular.

“I will make you feel good,” he promised against her lips, his hands roaming over her bare skin. This was all he knew, the only thing he was truly good at. The only thing he could do to maybe make it better.

He stood up just long enough to remove his garments, discarding them hastily before returning to her. His fingers went between her legs, teasing her gently, trying to coax a response from her. His thumb drew slow circles around her sensitive flesh, and he felt a tremor run through her body. She needed this, he needed this. He needed to remind her of her warmth, her life.

For a moment, there was nothing, just the silence and her stillness. But then, slowly, she began to react. Her breathing hitched, her hips shifting slightly towards his hand. Encouraged, he slipped two fingers inside her, thrusting into her softly. Her walls tightened around his fingers— a small moan escaped her lips.

“That’s it.” His voice was low and reassuring, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure. “You’re doing good, Helaena. Just focus on me. Forget about everything else. Just focus on me.”

Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white. He continued while her moans grew louder and more desperate. He felt his own arousal building, his hardness pressing against her thigh as he leaned down to kiss her neck and collarbones.

He trailed kisses along her skin, his lips and teeth grazing the sensitive spots he knew so well. Her body responded to him, her back arching slightly as she pressed herself closer to him. She was trembling now, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Just let go,” he whispered against her skin. “I’ve got you.”

With a shuddering cry, she came, her body tightening around his fingers. Fueled by her pleasure she positioned himself at her wet entrance. With a single, thrust, he entered her, a groan escaping his lips as he did.

She gasped, her legs wrapping around his hips. He started moving inside her, his thrusts deep and steady. She was tight and warm around him, her body welcoming him so perfectly, as if nothing had ever happened.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear. “We’re here, Helaena. We’re alive.”

Her moans mixed with his, the room filled with the rhythmic beat of flesh banging against flesh. He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more insistent. He needed this, needed to feel her, to lose himself in her.

“We were made for each other.” He leaned in closer, capturing her lips. “Stay with me.”

Her arms wrapped around him, her nails dug into his flesh; the pain of it a welcome escape from the wounds that didn’t bleed. For a moment he felt a flicker of hope, maybe she wasn’t truly gone. They were broken, the had been broken long before that night. But they nearly were a real person when they were together, weren’t they? That was at least something, wasn’t it?

He moved faster, his movements driven by his need for release, his need to lose himself in the pleasure of her touch. Her cries grew louder, her body responding so perfectly. He felt the tension building within him, the pressure mounting until he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he came, filling her. He collapsed against her, his body still trembling from his orgasm. His breath was still ragged and uneven as he spoke.

“We’ll get through this. I swear it.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t push him away either. They just lay there, tangled in each other. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her skin on his skin. It wasn’t a solution, it wasn’t an idea either. Fuck, it was barely a distraction.

But it was something.

[mydear-corinthian]

Defense || John Shelby

Synopsis: Defending John during the ambush of Changretta's men in your home.  Pairing: John Shelby x reader (+ Michael - platonic) Warning: SPOILERS AHEAD ! (season 3 & 4), gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, injury Notes: There will be some grammatical errors. Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

"Mom, mom, it's Christmas day!", Katie shrugging my shoulders to wake me up. A smile painted on my face just at the sight of my kids. The past few months with John have been challenging. He was held captive for six months and was on the brink death just hours before he was hanged. The good news is that Tommy was able to arrange for his release, though under quite tense circumstances. But Tommy still has my anger because he enabled my spouse to rot in prison. That's why the kids, John, and I are here right now. We've moved out of Small Health and into the country in our new house.

"Alright, Katie. I'm awake .. I'm awake. Happy Christmas," I greeted. I looked around the room and saw that John was nowhere to be found—just the kids and I. When I asked Katie where John was, she replied that he was just making breakfast downstairs. "Thank you, love. Let's go join your Dad now, eh?" I kissed her forehead and joined her to come downstairs.

I met John in the kitchen downstairs, breakfast was already placed on the table. He was in the kitchen, I assume he was still making some hot tea. "Happy Christmas, John," He walked toward me and planted a kiss on my cheek as he said, "Good morning and Happy Christmas, love. I made breakfast. Decided not to make you busy on Christmas day." I laughed at his answer. He gave me a cup of warm tea. He grabbed his metallic pouch full of cigarettes and took one. Lighting it before inhaling the toxic air.

"Bit too early for a puff, darling?", I asked, taking a sip of the tea that John made. "Just want to. Besides, it's Christmas day, y'know," he replied, releasing the air from his cigarette. I shrugged off. It was fine with me since I am a smoker as well plus he's right. It's Christmas.

A car caught my eye as it approached our house. I don't know why, but it felt like a familiar car. The Changretta's are still out there, tracking us one by one. Well- I blame my husband for it.

"John? There's a car coming by our house. We're not expecting visitors.." I looked at the window, moving the curtain a bit with my fingers. John smothered the fire and removed his cigarette right away. He reached for his weapon, which was kept under our kitchen counter table's cabinet. He immediately grabbed my arms. I startled at his touch, I asked nervously, "John, what is it?"

"Get the kids and hide. I'll check who it is," he ordered. My hands found his cheeks as I cupped them. My eyes were slowly filling up with water. "How about you John? I already lost you once and I'm not doing it again."

When his head was already in the noose, I thought I had lost him. awaiting the death angel's arrival to welcome him. I want my children to have a father in their lives. I wish to avoid loneliness. Also, I don't want him to be alone.

"You won't and I'll be back. Just go and hide for me. You understand, (y/n)?" he kissed my lips before going outside. I grabbed the kids immediately, telling them to go to the attic first. My son asked, "What happened, mom?"I got on my knee, now the same height level as my son. I brushed his hair with my finger. "It's nothing to worry about, love. Just go and keep your siblings safe in the attic? I'll be there in a while, okay?" My eldest son nodded in agreement, taking his other siblings up to the attic, and keeping them safe.

I followed John outside. Holding my sheriff gun tightly on my dominant arm.I saw him talking to someone. He put his rifle down, making a conversation with the person. I can't help but be curious and follow him. I sighed in relief, turns out it was only Michael. But that doesn't mean that there's going to be bad news.

"Michael, what are you doing here on Christmas day?" I can't help but ask, I was just beside my husband.

"We need to go now." Michael said.

"To whom?" my husband asked.

"To Tommy. He told me to tell you," he responded.

Fuck. Tommy again. What does he fucking want this time. I can't help but simmer in frustration, my mind fucking with annoyance and exhaustion. After what happened last time, I'm not going to risk my loved ones safety again.

"'Tommy told me' What are you, his fucking parrot?" I argued, my brows knitting together in frustration and in anger. "It's the fucking 'Black Hand'! The mafia! The New York fucking mafia!" Michael debated.

John and I's eyes widened.

The New York fucking mafia? Fucking mafia? Well, fuck us.

John noticed a wagon full of hays stopped exactly in front of our house. 3 men appeared wearing suits and a black hat. Guns out, pointing at the three of us.

"John, no!" Michael shouted but John didn't listen.

John cocked his rifle, shooting the three men. Michael and I did the same. One of their men got hit by our bullets and immediately fell. I was so preoccupied with aiming that I failed to notice that Michael and John had already been wounded and were lying on the ground with blood dripping off of them. I gave them a look. My eyes grew wide with terror and shock. I cried out while squeezing them together. With bullets squeezing his leg, John moaned in pain.

My heart stopped instantly. It seemed as though I was the one going to die. Time and gravity seemed to have stopped. My world came to an end. In front of me, time appeared to be motionless and lacking any sensation of reason or meaning.

Bringing back to my senses, I immediately tore my dress and tied it around my husband's leg, applying pressure to his wound. I did the same thing to Michael too, but John's wounds were much worse than his.

2 men stopped shooting and were heading towards my direction. I grabbed my gun, pointing it at them. "Stay where you are or for God knows what, I'll fucking shoot the both of you." I irritably said.

The two of the men can't help but laugh at what I said. Did I make a fucking joke?

"Very funny. You're a Shelby but you are also a woman. A woman can't shoot! I bet that gun isn't even loaded. How funn-" The man suddenly stopped speaking. His body fell to the ground, blood pooling out of his head. His eyes still opened.

I shot him, directly on the head with no mercy, guilt, and remorse after.

"Well, I'm afraid you lost your bet."

The remaining man was about to shoot me but my actions were more faster than his. I shot him multiple times, emptying the bullet chamber of my gun. "For your information, I shoot better than anyone in the Shelby family. I am a former assassin," you said to the dead bodies in front of you.

Before I left, I said,

"And you don't fuck, with the Peaky Fucking Blinders."

I went back to John and Michael, reassuring both of them that they were dead and that I'd call Tommy and an ambulance right away. John looked at me, and he slowly smiled, "Well that was offensive." I chuckled at his response but hey, it was true. I do shoot better than them. "Stay with me, John. And you too Michael. God doesn't want you guys above there yet."

I ran like there was a race, I reached out for the telephone, calling the hospital to get an ambulance. After that, I called Tommy, rage feeling in every part of my body.

"Black hand, the Mafia, the Changretta's. They were here Tommy. They were fucking here. John and Michael have been shot!"

I hung up the phone and gave it an aggressive touch. I groaned and clutched my hair in a fist. I almost lost my husband again. I quickly made my way to the attic and told my kids they could leave since it was now safe. I told them about their father and uncle while simultaneously assuring them that everything would be alright.

Later on, the ambulances came. They took Michael and John and I went too. The kids stayed with the kids. "Thank you, for backing us up, (y/n). I don't know what to do without you." John thanked me, and his hand grabbed my palm, stroking it with his thumb. I kissed his forehead, muttering an 'I love you'.

"I'm always here, John.

Always."

The End

[the-s1lly-corner]

Crps but you're all having a sleepover

thats right baby we're returning to the 2010s creepypasta fandom for this one, where everyone lived in the slender mansion and shit obvious hc derailment from my normal posting but im feeling a little nostalgic </3 the way i portray characters is the same as i usually do it, theyre all just roommates now notes: reader is gn, platonic post really since its just talking about what everyone is doing in the mansion, admin is attempting to catch the energy of 2010s quotev/wattpad creepypasta x reader fics/quizzes... including only characters that were a "standard" for the mansion stuff, at least with the stuff i looked at! splendorman and nina are here though even though they dont fall under that, a LOT of parts are connected with each other and reference one another cws: none

SLENDERMAN

he usually doesnt like getting wrapped into the chaos that happens when everyone decides to spend the night in the common area of the mansion- and he never quite saw the appeal in sleepovers

if you need a break from the chaos inside, you can find him holed up in his office or out in the woods

if hes out in the woods and you go searching, it doesnt take you long to find him

or rather, it doesnt take him long to find you- he knew you stepped out the second your feet touched the grass

you keep each other company... its a quiet night out..

he wrongly assumes everyone is going to behave and that he doesnt need to check in on them

SPLENDORMAN

looooooves sleepovers, acts as a sort of "supervisor" to make sure no one gets hurt and nothing gets set on fire... hes... not very good at it since theres so many people and theres so much going on

attempts to orchestrate games so everyone can have fun together- and while some people do form a small group to play, most of everyone else is doing their own thing throughout the night!

hangs around you if you need a break from the chaos, talks to you to pass the time

checks in on you and everyone else to make sure everyone is having fun

he kind of gives off those "are you winning son?" dads but hes asking everyone is theyre having fun

JEFF THE KILLER

throwing knives into the fireplace trying to hit the same spot over and over, he offers you his knife to let you give it a try! nina might come by and join you two at some point!

loudly talks shit about some of the other people in the area... cough cough jane cough cough

its a miracle a fight hasnt broke out yet... but its definitely very likely

hes the one responsible for the music, and of course, its all his personal taste... but if you ask nicely and if its a good enough suggestion he might just let you play a couple songs!

at some point you two decide to go help laughing jack make snacks... more on that in his part!

JANE THE KILLER

doing her best to ignore the chaos around her as she sits with sally and plays with her... there arent many other creepypastas around that are in her age group, and jane doesnt want to make her feel left out

she does end up spending most of the night downstairs with everyone else but she does take breaks to step outside to clear her head, its way too loud and theres way too much going on

offers to let you come outside with her, if you want

you both kind of just end up talking outside on the porch before heading back inside

you try to help convince nina and sally to go upstairs to play, you both might just be successful!

wont be sleeping with everyone else downstairs, shes probably going to retreat to her room at some point to sleep

NINA THE KILLER

also sitting with sally, theyre making friendship bracelets! if you want you can join in and make some with her!

ninas an absolute pro at making bracelets, they easily outdoes everyone sitting in your group!

offers to paint your nails or experiment with some makeup on your face! doesnt push too hard though because shes all for a good time, doesnt want to make you feel uncomfortable

playing music against jeff's music, total genre clash that hardly sounds pleasant- perhaps the four of you can retreat to sallys room?

joins in on the snack making at some point in the night, and while she doesnt start a fire she does make something diabolical

think the monster and sour airhead strip thing

LAUGHING JACK

he does NOT know how to cook but he wants to give it a shot now that no one is in the kitchen

you guys probably start a small fire while trying to make popcorn, absolute chaos breaks out- jack is eating burnt kennels, you're trying to whack the flame out, jeff is cackling, and splendorman is rushing in to see whats going on and he nearly has a heart attack

prior to that jack is passing out candy and doing his own thing, you might be able to convince him to wind down and watch a movie with you and some of the others!

last one to fall asleep, if you can call what he does sleep... he... doesnt need to sleep, he just pretend sleeps

will instantly rush over if you offer him to join in on an activity youre doing, whether youre by yourself or with someone else

EYELESS JACK

pretty tame, all he's doing is streaming movies in the living room so theres something to watch- or more sound to add to the background

has enough sense to turn on subtitles so you know whats actually being said against whats going on around you

he would sneak you snacks if he had them, but he didnt think to grab anything thats friendly for you- that sort of thing doesnt cross his mind that often since he doesnt... eat normal people food

pro at tuning everyone else out, he might just end up tuning you out because hes so used to things descending into chaos

you both might end up having a conversation about anything at some point, really any topic is on the table

BEN DROWNED

one of the rare occasions where hes out and about rather than being confined to his devices- surely he will use his limited time to hang out with everyone in bulk!

right..?

you thought! sure he might come down every now and then to hang out- namely hang out with jeff or sally for a few minutes, but hes going to be spending a lot of his time in his room upstairs playing video games

and youre more than welcome to join him! just be aware that hes likely going to be using cheats and hacks!

love the idea that ben is friends with a lot of the other gaming creepypastas so theres a chance theyre also going to be playing with you guys, even if theyre not there in person

absolute insanity ensues, mostly due to all of the cheats

SALLY

wants to hang out with everyone and while shes not totally dismissed, she ends up spending her night on the floor drawing- but jane and nina do join her at some point to keep her company

over the moon when you come over and sit with her!! shes already made you a friendship bracelet, nina showed her how! in fact shes already made one for everyone!

do ghosts sleep...? if so youre probably going to have to take her to bed at some point, whether it be at her bedtime or if she simply falls asleep while you hang out

as soon as nina offers to do your hair or makeup, sally is immediately jumping up and offering to help

will probably ask for her hair to be done as well

MASKY

its either him or hoodie, but one of them is going to end up being the one to put out that fire laughing jack starts in the kitchen

cannot stand the excess noise so hes probably going to step outside to clear his head or go upstairs

its best to give him a few minutes before offering to join him, he needs that window of alone time to depressurized

basically plays babysitter next to splendorman, basically making sure nothing gets wrecked inside or outside

you guys dont really talk out on the porch, there isnt much to talk about

offers to walk with you through the woods before returning inside

you both kind of just hang around in the corner keeping an eye on everyone

one of the last ones to fall asleep as well

HOODIE

similar to masky in the "hes making sure nothing is getting too insane and nothing is being damaged", he might default to the couch with eyeless jack

switches between watching the movie thats being played and scanning the room to make sure everyone is mostly behaving

unlike ej, he did think to keep some small snacks on him and hes willing to share with you if you ask

will keep the good stuff/his favorite stuff for himself though

doesnt sleep in the living room, will eventually go back up to his room at some point to go to bed... with the exception of characters who outright dont sleep, hoodies 100% the one staying up the longest

asks you about the movie when it ends, if you know sign or have some way for him to communicate with you

TICCI TOBY

probably gets caught up in the energy- in multiple ways! i do think at some point hes going to get overstimulated and need a step back but for a while hes hanging around with everyone else and kind of leaning into the chaos

briefly joins jeff in the "weapon throwing" activity, naturally wants to use his hatchets

at some point you both kind of just sit on the floor in a corner and just talk about- literally anything

you look through stuff on your phone, probably leads to introducing him to a lot of internet stuff... he uh... isnt on the internet all that much

oh you guys are definitely taking random quizzes and stuff

nina might join you guys for a bit at some point- leads to you guys taking quotev quizzes and things get more... silly

[erinfern0]

simon "ghost" riley as a father

dad!simon spent endless hours building the tiny furniture and painting the nursery walls. Of course, all the equipment was picked by you, as he didn't really have a taste for those things. If he were to choose, the room would end up looking like shit.

dad!simon who smiled the whole time as you folded the new clothes and blankets, stealing some of them to feel the fuzzy material, so calming to his growing anxiety.

dad!simon dreamed of this day for so long, but couldn't help the knot in his stomach at the idea of actually being a father. The fear of turning out to be the same as his old man was disgusting, but never left his mind.

dad!simon who discussed every thought and decision with his therapist, making sure he was really prepared. Coming back after every session, he'd sit down with you and discuss everything, being so happy to feel your touch and reassuring words.

dad!simon who thinks it's a true miracle that he lived so long to carry his little kid home. Holding their tiny body in his arms, the love of his life beside him as he stepped into the house.

and now:

girldad!simon who is completely smitten with his little girl, those huge eyes staring at him as if he was some sort of angel.

girldad!simon spends his free time studying how to style her hair, different ponytails and braids, all depending on his princess's wishes

girldad!simon who lets her color in all of his tattoos, watching her trembly hands holding the newest set of body markers.

girldad!simon who teaches her how to defend herself from a very young age, starting with simple lessons on assertiveness and boundaries, through various self-defend practices.

girldad!simon who spoils her rotten, he just can't deny that pouty little face whenever he tells her no. He has his limits, but most of the time she gets all the dresses, toys, and ribbons she gets.

girldad!simon gets a tattoo of her favorite stuffed animal somewhere on his body.

girldad!simon who encourages her passions, especially when it comes to sports because that's one of the few he has any expertise on. He spends a lot of time getting to know others, so he always has topics to talk about.

girldad!simon who feels pity towards any possible love interest that might even think of hurting his little girl.

girldad!simon is often seen walking around the park, holding her hand at all times. All his scary mysteriousness disappears the moment she talks to him, Simon just turns into the sweetest parent in seconds.

girldad!simon always kneels down in front of her so she feels taller.

girldad!simon will watch any show or movie she wants, doesn't matter how 'girly' it is. Secretly enjoys Barbie movies.

girldad!simon watching her grow up and getting into make-up makes him feel very happy, but nostalgic. Reminding himself that not so long ago she was running around and playing with little bugs.

girldad!simon who always drives her around, a personal taxi driver whenever she wants to hang out with her friends.

and:

boydad!simon who focuses on making sure his boy doesn't pick the same field of work as him, no matter how much his boy idolizes him.

boydad!simon who spends most of his time with his son outside, running, playing soccer, or building him some DIY shelters around the house with branches, leaves, and stones. (my ass can't get this out of my head, such a stereotypical polish childhood)

boydad!simon who adores his boy's interest in the military, but like I said, always reminds him to pick something else. This doesn't stop him from spending hours talking about little details and stories.

boydad!simon spoils him by buying him little cars, wooden models, and sports equipment.

boydad!simon makes sure not to push his boy too much into the toxic masculinity he had to grow up with. His son can be as expressive and sensitive as he wants, there's no one to stop him.

boydad!simon who becomes his son's best friend and savior whenever he has nightmares.

boydad!simon tries to be on-trend with electronic devices, spending lots of time to learn how to play his son's favorite video games whenever the little one is asleep, so he can help him if he struggles with a mission/achievement.

boydad!simon who has to make sure his son is a responsible person, giving him adequate punishments so he doesn't think there are no consequences to his actions.

boydad!simon studies dinosaurs just because his son finds them oh so cool. After reading some articles, he finds himself fascinated with them too, sharing all the facts and sources for them.

overall:

dad!simon would do anything to keep his child safe. He'd let the world burn if it meant his little one was the happiest kid on the planet.

dad!simon gets anxious if his kids don't answer him immediately, so he made sure their phones have their locations turned on all the time.

dad!simon doesn't argue with you around the kids, any serious discussion is only between the two of you, so in case emotions take over they never witness it.

dad!simon thinks it's crucial to show up, so he rushes from his deployment to make it to his child's school play or graduation, just to be able to support them.

dad!simon encourages his kids to go and see a psychologist, even if they don't struggle with much. He understands that there are just things important to talk about, but the kid might not want to open up in front of their parents about everything.

dad!simon turned out to be the father his old man could never be. In his kids' eyes, he's a true hero and the best dad they could have.

masterlist | request info

[n30nwrites]

Chapter 6 - Bow

Good Doggy Masterlist

Beta Editor?? - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Warnings: None

“Ah'm not complaining dathúil.” Soap looks you up and down, he seems to enjoy staring at you. You don’t understand why. It’s just your partially clothed body, you didn’t dislike the staring, but you didn’t love it either. You just didn’t care.

You couldn’t.

“Why are they in my house?” You question, walking behind the couch where Maya sat. They were across from here at the other couch, fully dressed like they were about to go on a mission. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together when you saw Maya.

“Oh son of a-”

“So you’re Chimera?” Price interrupts, saying your code name, and he isn’t better than the youngest member of the task force. “Is that why you moved here? To spy on us?”

“First off-”

“Be nice.” Maya interrupts and you want to remind her that the faster you say this the faster you can get dressed. But you don’t, instead you stare at her. 

You continue, “First off, I don’t care about you. I’ve already said that. I don’t have to explain myself to you. Second off, why the hell are we teamed up with you guys?”

“Laswell paid us well.” Maya said, grabbing at her phone, “Had to let KorTac know though.” Maya and you had met at KorTac after your last relationship ended horribly. You had to get away from your old military company, and KorTac seemed desperate to have you once they saw your file. Maya was your partner from the beginning, her code name was Silver. 

“I can never have a good vacation.” You groan, “Why the hell did you accept it?”

“We’re trying to find intel to go after Graves.”

You shut up, staring at Maya. Phillip Graves was a name banned from your household, like that one wizard from that one wizard movie. It had been a year since you had seen him, but the memories come rushing back, everything that he did. You nodded your head, accepting that once again you would go back into the field.

“How do you know Graves?” Gaz asks. 

“None of your business.”

“You seem to love saying that.” Ghost says, and you decide not to respond. Instead you open up the first box you brought into the house, which was filled with your usual uniform. Grabbing it, you walk yourself into the closest room, which happened to be an unused bedroom, and got ready.

Ghost is the first to stand after you leave, he stalks around the house, gaining information on the two residents. Despite only moving in a few days ago, there seemed to be some decoration items hung up. Pictures of Maya and what Ghost can assume to be her family, he can see her timeline through these pictures. Up until high school, she didn’t have a metal arm and then some time when she met You, she did.

He questions what happens, and knows Maya won’t be as stuck up as you, she’d probably answer. But he didn’t want to ask.

Instead he looked around.

The first bedroom he entered was painted a light purple, it had a multitude of boxes stacked up inside the walk-in closet, which still had its lights on, and a mattress just sitting in the middle of the room. He would guess it was Maya’s, not because of the color but because of the multitude of photos on the wall of her and other people, most of them having you.

The only information he could gather from her bedroom was that she graduated from Palons, the Academy of Alchemists. She seemed to do well from the multitude of medals she had hanging from her diploma.

He left the room, pausing as he heard a door open. Ghost waited a few seconds before continuing his search. Despite being a large man, his footsteps were silent. He opened another door, finding a bedroom with red walls, with a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows. The room was already a mess, boxers were lying on the floor along with a box of knives. Instead of a large walk-in closet like Maya had, there was a smaller one with a dresser inside. 

What was on that dresser was what trapped his attention.

It seemed to be a snowglobe, at least the shape of one but no fake snow in sight. Instead, there was a singular figure, standing on ground that was painted to look like what he could guess to be lava. It was kind of childish, he wouldn’t expect it from you, but to be fair, he didn’t know you.

Just knew that you were a huge prick. One that was tied to him.

And Soap, Gaz, and Price. But still, him. Ghost didn’t feel special being tied to you, frankly if you dropped dead on this mission he might just start believing in something again. It’d be an act of fate, unlike meeting you.

He hears a familiar click of taking a handgun off of its safety. His grip tightens on the globe as he puts his hands to the side. “Put it down.” He recognizes your voice immediately. He knows you're angry but somehow it’s dimmed, like a sheet was covering the part in your brain that could make you angry. Instead you just seemed annoyed. You don’t seem to show much emotion besides that. He hates it. He’d rather you get angry at him, yell and hit him. At least it showed that the stuff he was doing bothered you. Enough for you to think about him. “Place it on the dresser, do not drop it.”

He does not understand why you care about this toy but he does as you say. Putting it down and turning around slowly. He’s almost sure you would kill him. 

You’re dressed in uniform. A thick black shirt, with a pocket sewn to the left side of it with KorTac’s signature Wolf logo. There are items stuffed in it, but he doesn’t know what, which puts him on edge. The issued KorTac vest, black with the flag of your country of origin on the chest region. Along with thick black jeans that had knife and gun holsters wrapped around your thighs. Knee and elbow pads like the rest of them, and a black balaclava, but unlike him, your eye paint was a deep red.

Similar to dried blood.

Fingerless gloves which is strange but he wouldn’t comment on it, he can only count 3 weapons, two knives and the gun in your hand, obviously you didn’t care about your safety if you thought that would protect you. Your boots are black with gray laces, seeming to have dirt all over the laces yet the boots were relatively clean. You didn’t have your headgear in hand, but you did have a mic connected to your vest.

Your chosen weapon, AKA your sidearm, was a Beretta M9. You put it in one of your holsters, pointing at the exit. And so he leaves.

All he can think about is the two-headed dog figurine inside the snow globe, and how he could’ve sworn it moved.

NEXT

Good Doggy Taglist @moooonred @th1kc-skulls @callsign-selkie @thehighlordishere @zforgottensniper @tikitsune @spooky-season-is-best-season @bitchyzombienacho @animefan106sposts

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ Only. Warnings: Semi-sexual content, language, reference to violence.

My very first Homelander fic! If you'd like to read more of my stuff, read on.

Masterlist One

Masterlist Two

Masterlist Three

Part Two: Listen To Me

He’s frustrated

He clenches his fists until the seams feel tight — ready to burst. 

Every word that comes out of Deep’s mouth brings him closer to burning right through his stomach. 

This should have been over. 

All of it.

 Everyone should be on their fucking knees for him. This whole goddamn place belongs to him — he is in charge. 

Something twists into his chest, a swelling feeling choking him. His lungs felt tight, straining with every slow breath he tried to take. They’re going to pop. His lungs are going to explode. Way to discover how he can die, don’t ya think? 

The Great Homelander — killed by his fucking lungs. 

“- I don’t think that. I know it.” Sage’s voice dragged him out of his head. At least as out of his head as he can get. 

“Homelander-” 

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up!” He hisses between clenched teeth. He felt small and cold, wishing he had someone to hang on to. 

Which frustrated him more — and left him feeling wrong inside. 

He shouldn’t want to hang on to anyone. He’s the world’s greatest Superhero. There is nothing he can’t do, nowhere he can’t go yet now everything is Up in flames.

He needs to focus on the fire and watch the smoke choke out the weak-minded assholes. 

“This is over. Done.” Everyone looks at him. He hears Ashley’s heart beat faster, skipping when his eyes turn to hers. Sweat Collects at her temple, dripping from her God-awful wig. 

Burn it off. 

He could. 

Laser her from the fake roots and down. He’d love to watch her face melt around the heat, brain matter leaking onto the floor. That might make him feel better.

On a spin, he turns away from them. His quick steps are loud in the large room. He leaves, not bothering to close the door behind him. 

The council room falls away behind him. Each step slaps against the floor. Each step, every push from his heel to the balls of his feet drags heavier, weighing down the urge to fly. 

Voices murmur through the Walls, his eyes catching employees huddled around desks and one coupling in a closet. 

He stops at his door. 

Home. 

What’s fucking home? The place that tortured him, that created him where he realized he wasn’t real; that John wasn’t real. 

This should be his home. Right here. It holds his bed, his clothes, and his secret stuffed animal. 

It should be Ryan’s home, too.

If Ryan is there. 

His son, who would rather run to Butcher — a fucking piece of shit — than be with his father. 

Home? 

Who the fuck knows what that is?

A light flickers in the back of his mind, the reminder of fingers in his air and a crooning voice on the radio. 

His frustration flares in his chest. He’s trying to remember the address — the memory hazy, lost in the clouds. 

Should he change his clothes? 

A red shirt with a navy blue jacket, jeans that squeezed his crotch, and a baseball hat. 

Home.

-

The door still had your stupid sign hanging from the same hook. It is a piece of wood painted black with blood splatter words announcing a ‘haunting’ inside. He stared at it for an hour the first time he stood at your doorstep. He ordered you to get rid of it.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. 

The doorbell is broken, no sound signaling it’s gone off no matter how many times he pushed it.

Homelander knocks after he breaks the glowing button. 

Grinding his teeth, he impatiently raps his knuckles against the wood.

He hears movement. 

Homelander knocks harder. 

He squirms where he stands, shifting from foot to foot. A tingle of anxiety trickles down his chest.

“Dammit, where are — oh.” that’s what he came for. 

Your voice.

His raps went faster. One, two, three until a line cracks the wood when he brings his fist down. That stops him, and the shuffling he hears behind the door.

“Alright,” it swings open, “Fucking hell, dude.” 

The smell of weed rolled from the house, clogging his nose. 

You pause, looking up at him. Your eyes are red, drooping as your head tilts to the side, eyebrows raised into your hairline. It’s been months, maybe a year, since he’s been here. It was before the shit show that was Soldier Boy; he remembers that. 

Your hair is different. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You leaned against the door, propping it with your foot and resting your temple against it. You play with your hair, wrapping it around a finger before tugging and letting go.

“Yes.” He steps forehead. Your other hand coming up to take a drag keeps him still.

The smoke puffs in his face when you release it.

“Come on,” You don’t wait for him to follow, turning around and walking back into the house, “You’re always welcome here.”

Every sentence you say has an edge—something that makes his skin itch. He wants you to talk to him with respect. He should punish you for the attitude and sarcasm and keep you from ever speaking again.

He’s the Homelander. Who are you to treat him this way? 

The living room is unfamiliar. The couches are new and the set up rearranged. There are blankets and pillows scattered around the room. One deep red one hanging over the back, three pillows nestled into the edges of the couch. Another blanket, a soft black, hangs on the arm. 

A group of pillows rests on the floor, stuffed animals tucked into between them. There’s an open spot in the middle made for sitting. 

Tossed over the coffee table is another blanket.

This one is familiar. 

Another red blanket that Homelander knows feels amazing on his skin. 

“What can I do for you, John?” 

He never hears that name.

Except, he heard it from the doctors. From the ones who watched him from behind glass, who pressed buttons and laughed at his pain. 

Doctors he left to rot in the bad room.

You’d settled on the couch, feet curled beneath you. His eyes track your shorts as they curl up, showing the edge of your underwear. 

His mouth dries. 

“I-” You move, dropping one leg to the floor and stretching the other leg out. 

He aches to crawl into the space and curl up, let you stroke his hair, and call him your good boy. 

“Come here.” That drags a gasp from him, his feet moving without thought. 

The couch is deep and warm, and his knees sink into the cushions. You spread your legs more, bending your knee to cradle his back. 

“I saw you on TV.” There it is.

The voice he needs. 

He’ll swear he sees the magic swirl in the air when your words leave your mouth. It tickles his ears and dives into him to wiggle into place around his brain. It grounds him 

One sentence has his mind slowing down. The ever-spinning thoughts froze for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah?” He tucked his feet into the crease of the couch. 

“Hey, shoes off, Mister.” You popped the side of his head.

He toes them off. 

“You were in a commercial. I didn’t quite pay attention. I focused on you only. You did an amazing job, and your smile was breathtaking. You know what, though?” The hand you slid into his hair stopped. A sharp tug pulled his head back.

Oh no.

“What?” 

“You’re selfish.” 

Homelander whimper. 

He is inherently selfish. 

A selfish man who takes and takes and takes. 

They raised him, no they created him to do. Take the pain, endure the hunger, sit the silent nights with nothing but his thoughts. 

Your fingers move from his hair down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his arm. He focused on the heat from your hand, the weight of it. It holds him down and makes his stomach loosen. 

He presses closer to you. 

You smell the same. Musky, heady, acidic. It’s uniquely you, a smell he could pick out anywhere. 

He thinks of burying his face between your legs. To lick the taste until it coats his mouth and stains his teeth.

It’s his favorite. 

“You always want things. Always need more.” The drop of your voice made his back straighten. “Did you come to me to be selfish, John?”

Did he? 

He did. 

He wants to stop being Homelander. He wants to be  — he wants—to be John. 

John is a real person  

Homelander is not. 

Homelander is a god. 

“Yes.” Always answer honestly, John, “I did.” 

You hum, repeating the stroking pattern. His hair, his neck, his shoulder, and starts again.

He hones in on the movement — how he turns into butter in your hands. 

Your voice washes over him, rolling him on the waves to drag him down. It’s warm, flowing into his chest, heated, liquid fire that wraps around. 

“Look how sweet you are.” That rocks him, spinning his mind. It mixes with his blood. The flames cause sparks to tingle his fingers, making his knees weak. His toes curl, pressing deeper into the couch.

You’re whispering over him, hand following the same path repeatedly. It makes his stomach warm, kindling the fire in his lungs. He slows his breathing, feeling his heartbeat calm. 

There’s still a rocking feeling in his head. It sways him back and forth and makes his eyes water. 

He feels safe. 

Your hand pauses, and he whines, pitiful, a pitched noise that grates his ears. When your leg moves, he turns around, sliding his hand beneath your body to wrap around you. His other arm curled up, tucking under his chin to rest his weight on you. 

You chuckle, “Baby boy.” 

Your leg moves again, sliding between his. Your knees press into his thighs.  

Homelander folds his leg at the knee. He nestles into your chest, his nose sliding along your neck. When your hand moves to his knee, fingers loosely holding his leg. 

He can feel your pulse, the rush of your blood. You breathe beneath him.

In and out.

It’s your source of living and powers your ability to whisper in other ears to make them feel.

He wonders what you’d sound like choking to death. 

It’d be easy for him to slide his hand up, dig his fingers into your throat, and watch your eyes bulge; veins bursting, tears streaming down your face. You wouldn’t be able to control him then. He’d never grapple with the fact he let you control him. 

The only person he gives himself to. 

He hates you. 

He’s lying

You kiss his forehead, a press of your lips. His heart skipped, stomach flipping. It is rare for you to kiss him. To feel your lips against him, moving with him. He’s seldom allowed to lick your words from your mouth. 

He has to earn kisses.

His core heats, sending flames down his thighs. He bites back a groan but presses himself closer to your leg. You hum again, a lower noise, letting out a sigh that dampens his hairline. 

The groan he let out was impossible to fight. 

He wants to take your breath away, suck the air from your lungs. You should only breathe for him, into him. You belong to him. 

“Want to tell me why you’re upset, Baby boy?” 

Yes.

 He shakes his head. 

“John,” your voice is sharp, sticking, icy, dripping into his ears, “What have I told you?” 

He flinches. “Liars are bad boys.” 

“Exactly. Now, do you want to talk about it?” 

The ice floods his veins. “Everything is going wrong. It’s all falling apart and I’m losing control. Every step I take is wrong, crumbling the fucking world around me. Sage is a bitch. Deep is a useless fucking idiot. I found out A-train is fucking us over. The only thing that resembles a good thing is when the ridiculous Firecracker woman revealed she’s lactating.” 

He catches his breath and opens his mouth, but stops and whines into his arm.

You gently shush him.

“Tell me about that.” Your nails scratch his ear, squeezing his lobes with a soft tug. “Did you feed from her? Suck her dry? I bet you latched on quicker than a newborn and suckled until there was nothing left. I bet,” Your voice changed, turning softer, “She murmured sweet nothing at you and cradled you. Praise you.”

Every word has his head spinning. The memory of being wrapped in Firecracker’s arms flickered to life. He could feel her nipple between his teeth, the way she rocked him back and forth. He drank for what felt like a lifetime. 

Craves more. 

“Answer me, John.” 

He notches his hips and rocks them against your leg until you’re pinching his ear and moving out of the way. He whimpers, lips trembling, his cock aching and heavy between his legs. His hips jerk forward again, searching for your leg, for the cushion, anything to give him friction. 

“Selfish boys don’t deserve to be hard.” The ice returns. It freezes him, numbing his fingers. His eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. 

He wants the warmth back. 

“Yes. Yes. I was selfish. I took until there was nothing left and have every night since. I’m sorry. I’m selfish.” He curls in on himself, tucking his legs as close to his body as he can. 

“Oh Baby boy,” It comes out smooth like silk. It drapes across his body. 

He rocks back with a moan. 

“I’m not angry, John.” It spread along him, reaching for his hands and tucking around his body. 

It’s almost drowning him.

“You’re not?” His voice is small. His mind slowed, the thoughts scattered around like blocks knocked over sliding into a box.

He thinks of sitting in the middle of his floor, legs crossed, looking out his window, and thinking of grass beneath his feet. It reminds him of the times they’d bring him outside. The rare times they allowed him to run as fast and as far as he could. The first time he flew, flying higher and higher until he swore he’d break the sky. Such few memories make him happy.

The memories he has, the ones that spin in his mind? They’re tinged gray, dark, painted in shadows. They’re all a time in his life when he realized they made him to be a tool for someone else. 

He remembers a time before he was The Homelander, Vought’s golden boy: the most powerful superhero. 

“No, Baby Boy. You sought pleasure. Why would I ever be angry about that? I want you to tell me the truth, Sweetheart. Good boys don’t tell lies, do they?” 

“No.” You laugh and it sinks into him until he lets go and floats.

You’re the only thing he can feel, smell, hear, hell, even taste. Your arms are his haven. Your voice is his drug, A secret addiction. 

This is his escape and he’ll return to it anytime he wants. Anytime he needs it. 

It’s why he keeps you safe.

Keeps you away from everyone. 

I mean, he thinks, that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Save the fucking people.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Warm.” It slurred, slipping off his tongue with ease. He tastes the sweet flavor of a milkshake on his tongue. 

You chuckle again, moving your leg back down for him to rest against. He waits for his cock to ache again, to thrust forward and fuck against you 

That urge is gone.

He wants to fall asleep and listen to you murmur above him. Would you sing to him? Something he doesn’t know, but every word makes sense because it’s coming from you. 

“Will you sing to me?” 

“Of course.” Your chest rumbles, his eyes growing heavy.

He listens to the words, rolling off your tongue to drape over him. He settles into it, sinking deeper and deeper until he’s cacooned. Your singing dragging him beneath the surface to float away.

[igetthedisneybox]

Óscar Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's Encanto AU, and her own character headcanons.

Third image made using https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1558575

Fourth image made using https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana

Fifth image made in Disney Dreamlight Valley

Óscar’s full name is Óscar Horacio Madrigal.

His first name means “dear friend” and his middle name means “time”. 

He is the oldest child of Mirabel Madrigal and Bubo Marquez.

He greatly resembles his father, and has his brown skin, nose, and hair. Somehow, he did not inherit either of his parents' need for glasses.

He is seventeen years old.

He has two triplet sisters, Beatriz, younger by fifteen minutes, and Lidia, younger by thirty minutes.

He likes both boys and girls, but is single.

His gift is mediumship. He can see and communicate with the dead souls who can’t/ won’t move on to the afterlife. The Encanto finds this weird and off-putting (because Catholic), and so shuns him. Everyone expects him to hate his gift because of this, but he actually loves it. He likes getting to hear stories from the dead, and help them move on.

His door portrays him standing with his arms out, while many glowing skulls surround him.

His room has wood floors and black walls, but the walls are painted with gold and yellow marigolds. Many sconces and candelabras are hung on the walls, and there’s a seance circle permanently on the floor in the middle of the room. His bed and other amenities are pushed up against the walls.

His symbol is a glowing skull.

Mirabel understands what it’s like to be shunned by the Encanto for a gift/lack thereof, so the two get along great. She’s always there to cheer him up.

Bubo on the other hand is very much A Dad, and tries to bond with his son in various Dad ways, such as fútbol (which Óscar is not into). But he tries.

He and Beatriz are amicable, but are very different people, so don’t hang out.

Lidia can, has, and will beat people up who are mean to Óscar, much to his horror.

He hangs out with the other “outcast” cousins: Sofía, Fuega, Zoe, Hugo, and Andrés.

He gets along best with Pedro, Bruno, Dolores, and Sofía.

Because Pedro’s soul inhabits Casita, Óscar regularly talks and hangs out with him.

He likes to entertain the souls of the dead city children who didn’t make the pilgrimage to the Encanto.

He often looks like he’s muttering to himself while using his gift, which started the rumor that he’s actually crazy.

He looks a lot like Bruno, and is called “Bruno’s twin” sometimes.

He can become possessed by spirits if he does a seance. He mainly does this with Pedro, for emotional reunions with family (and to stop arguments). 

His favorite colors are burnt orange, maroon, gold, and mahogany.

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Feral 3

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, violence, murder (but it's the Baron so yay), mentions of the Baron being a pedo, mentions of Feyd being a victim of the Barons.

Feyd had a new issue with Friz. Ever since he had begun helping Y/N with the little beast, holding him securely while Y/N clipped his nails, frimmed the fur around his paws and butt, and held him in the bath water while Y/N scrubbed the filth and loose hair off of him, the shedding had become so much less of an issue. Feyd had even found a setting on the shower head that Friz actually enjoyed against his throat. With a lot of patience, an absurd amount of chicken liver treats, and many close calls by cat claws, Friz was… somewhat tamed. The cat didn't like getting his nails trimmed, of course, but Feyd and Friz has come to an understanding. Feyd trimmed exactly one of his claws every day, and Friz got a freshly fried chicken liver with catnip sprinkles for his troubles.

Y/N had been shocked at the improvement in her pet. "I thought he was too old to be tamed properly." She admitted.

"How old is he, exactly?" Feyd asked.

"About sixteen." She said. "I got him when he was a feral kitten, I was about five. He was passed being bottle fed, so he didn't bond with me right away. It took weeks of work for him to even eat in front of me."

Feyd hummed to himself, wondering why anyone would even put that amount of time into a cat.

"Oh, by the way, I saw the doctor today." Y/N said casually. "He ran some tests, and it turns out I'm pregnant."

Feyd felt his face go blank. "What?"

--------

Y/N's pregnancy was… rough. Her cravings were for fresh fruit and cheese, things they didn't get often on Giedi Prime. Meat made her nauseous, something his uncle made constant jokes about. The bastard even hinted that Feyd's child might come out anemic and weak.

Ah, right, speaking of his uncle. Obviously the second Feyd realized his wife was pregnant, Vladimir couldn't go on living. Other than the fact Feyd hated the man, his baby might be a boy. And the idea of the Baron being on the same planet as a son of Feyd's, with his disgusting appetite for young boys was unacceptable. The Baron had a rather unfortunate accident. His normal nightly routine of smoking spice and soaking in his tub took a rather unfortunate turn. He indulged a tad bit too much, got a bit too dizzy, and drowned in his tub. The old man's body was so large it took a half dozen slaves to pull him out of the tub, even after it was drained.

Feyd inherited the throne, and life went on. Y/N looked practically ethereal with a baby bump and a crown on her head as she sat on her throne beside Feyd. The crown was only for the initial ceremony of course, neither of them could be bothered with dressing in ceremonial clothing every day.

Especially Y/N. Her pregnancy seemed to get rougher by the day. Morning sickness from the earlier months turned into near constant aches and pains in her back and legs. Feyd wasn't sure how women without servants survived their pregnancies. Who helped them tie their shoes? Their husbands? They must. Y/N's feet swelled so much, most days she didn't even bother with shoes. He came back to their newly renovated quarters (because even if Feyd wanted the bigger set of rooms his uncle had left behind after his death, he certainly didn't want any of the man's stench hanging around. Feyd had the place gutted and new floors and walls installed. Y/N had picked out the paint, of course.) to find her sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on an ottoman. Feyd tried to comfort her as best he could, but other than having the servants draw her a bath or bring in a foot tub for her feet to soak, there wasn't much to be done.

Thankfully she just seemed to want him to be close to her. And by the stars did he want to be right next to her all the time. His hand seemed to be permanently fixed to her belly, and he'd grin excitedly anytime he felt a kick from his son. Yes, his son. The doctor had confirmed it, and Feyd was both delighted and devastated. He had secretly hoped for a girl out of some misguided belief that it would be easier. Some vague idea that if his child was a girl then he wouldn't see himself reflected in her as much. So he wouldn't have some happier version of himself taunting him about what his childhood could have been.

But when he truly sat down to think about raising his son, Feyd found the idea soothing. No one would rip his son from Y/N's arms and take them away to a house of horrors. No one would mistreat him the way Feyd had been mistreated. His son would never doubt he was loved and cared for.

Y/N had commented on it over snacks one night. Nightly snacks might be his favorite part of pregnancy if he was being honest. Y/N always seemed to have a plate of something nearby and he was always offered some.

"I think it will be healing for you." She said, munching on a few strawberries. "Raising a little mini you, with all your mannerisms. And those beautiful eyes of yours."

Feyd chuckled, his face pressed against her belly as he felt his son kicking at his face. "He has strength, that's for sure. His kicks are getting stronger every day."

"Painful, too." Y/N said, wincing after a particularly strong kick from her baby.

Feyd turned back to her belly, patting it gently. "Easy now, my boy. Don't bother your mother so. She deserves rest after a long day of making you."

A little paw swatted at his nose. Ah. Right. His new problem. Friz stared at Feyd until Feyd sat up, removing himself from Y/Ns belly. The cat immediately started his nightly routine of massaging Y/Ns belly with his little paws, kneading at the baby bump for a few minutes before curling up and purring on it.

Y/N smiled, "It's like he's trying to keep them warm."

"We have blankets." Feyd said dryly, unhappy to have been chased from his wife's belly by a cat.

"It's instinct to him." His wife said, trying to soothe him by taking his face in her hands and peppering little kisses all over his cheeks. "Now, have a snack and tell me about your day."

Feyd took the bowl of strawberries from her, laying back against the headboard and sighing. "I've had such a day."

[hocuspocusbabyy]

I’m sorry but just IMAGINE Eloise and Cressida as parents?!

Cressida would 100% be a full blown PTA mum, planning all the best events for her children’s school.

Eloise would inevitably be dragged along to help decorate and somehow end up agreeing the directing the school play - because she’s read the book a MILLION times! And “Couldn’t possibly let them butcher it.”

They’d have two daughters and a son. Aged, 5, 3 and 6 months. Lunet, Maeve and Benedict Jr.

Eloise would try sneaking treats that Cressida had baked for a fundraiser. Getting caught with frosting on her mouth, she swears blind to her wife she a no idea where it came from.

Cressida baking special cookies just for Eloise to eat! 😭

Eloise would read to the children every night, Cressida insisting she’s just there to tuck them in but ultimately sat across the bottom of the bed to listen too.

Cressida will often insist Eloise continues reading despite the fact the kids are already asleep, and they will have to reread that chapter again the next evening!

Uncle Benedict would love taking care of the children so their mothers may enjoy a walk or weekend alone 🥹 “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Though I suppose that doesn’t leave a lot.”

Uncle Colin and Aunt Pen would already arrive with an array of wonderful gifts. Eloise has a shelf of trinkets, many from Cressida and her family. Stemming from rocks, sea shells and pressed flowers to tiny figurines and bottles of sand from Colin’s travels.

Eloise secretly adores that Cressida insists on hanging Benedict’s painting’s in their home.

Eloise will often return home to Cressida and Violet sharing tea in the garden - Violet cannot go more than a few days without visiting her grandchildren.

Aunt Daphne and Cressida would take great pride in buying the children the cutest shoes and outfits - much to Eloise’s dismay when she finds her youngest in a ‘hideous’ bonnet. “Well what has she got this monstrosity on her head for? Oh my sweet girl don’t worry mummy will protect you from the taffeta.”

Eloise often getting emotional when spending time alone with her wife and children, free of any distractions. Forgoing her book to simple watch Cressida and their toddler play in the grass with wooden blocks.

Cressida tired at the breakfast table a child on either knee, as Elouise and their eldest read the newspaper out loud. Gently kissing their temples and stirring her tea.

Eloise and Cressida often indulging in a sneaky cigarette together at the end of a long week. Hidden out on the balcony to their room - their children fast asleep in the next room. Often shushing one another when their giggling threatens to wake them.

Eloise nearly having a ‘heart attack’ seeing her child on a horse for the first time, insisting her wife is insane and she’d prefer both ‘her girls’ back on the ground.

Cressida being the good cop, Eloise bad cop in many matters. I truly believe Cressida would be the biggest softy towards their children.

Eloise helping the children with their school work, whilst Cressida knits across the room (Cressida is utterly no help academically.)

Violet often insisting on taking the children for the evening because her home is simply ‘too big’ and Cressida and Eloise are ‘still young’.

Cressida and Eloise often opting to enjoy their meals in the form of picnic. Packing up the children to spend the evening down by the river.

Cressida rolling up her sleeves and teaching the children to skim stones.

Eloise sat waiting to aid them all in drying off when they’re done. The baby resting upon her chest.

Eloise often scolding Cressida more than the children, her wife simply brushing her off with terms of endearment or a kiss.

Cressida taking birthdays very seriously, waking up early to decorate the house. They keep Violets birthday hat tradition well alive. Eloise made her one their first birthday spent together and she still has it. Violet cried when they did the same for her.

The entire family often visit for long weekends and dinners - Eloise and Cressida opted to live in the country where there is more privacy and space for them.