#the vice yard

[mabelsguidetolife]

me, solving problems irl by improvising with certain objects: tee-hee inventory puzzle :3

[ramblinseahorsey]

Me: Why r my adhd meds making me feel worse not better :( Also I am the meanest person alive I shall hide in my room and sleep forever from guilt

A few weeks later

*Gets diagnosed with Bipolar* OHHHHHHHH

[chosok-amo]

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

[espace--positif]

Mornings With Him

A collection of husband!Zayne x F!Reader domestic headcanons [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Mornings are always better shared. Especially with the love of your life. A collection of fluffy snapshots of mornings spent with husband!Zayne. Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader WC: ~2.1K Content tags: Established relationship, Domestic fluff, Fluff, Romance, Mild suggestiveness Read on AO3 // My Masterlist

Ever since you married the love of your life and began living together, your mornings have changed for the better. But things haven’t always been so smooth, on account of a few differences in your lifestyle that made themselves glaringly obvious early on.

For one, Zayne is a morning person, and you’re regrettably not. Not to the extent that he is, anyway. You don’t ever clash on this, but it’s caused some… unforeseen difficulties in the past, especially for your husband.

He’s always been the type of person to be ready a full hour before he has to leave, whereas you’re more likely to be rushing out the door exactly on the dot, if not later. On top of that, he’s also a morning runner. So when he would try to quietly sneak out of bed to begin his rigorous routine every morning and you’d sleepily cling to him, coaxing him back to the warmth of your shared bed with an almost 100% success rate, to the point where he started regularly missing his morning runs, he figured something had to change.

His solution? He’d find a way for the two of you to spend your mornings together, outside of bed.

Thus, he carefully crafts a shared routine for the both of you, easing you into his way of life while easing himself out of the constancy of his own diligence, little by little.

One early morning, as Zayne woefully pulls himself away from your iron grip, he decides to venture towards the kitchen on a mission. He brews two large cups of coffee and returns to your shared bedroom, where he finds you sprawled on his side of the bed, trying to soak up any residual warmth. You lift your gaze, meeting his with sleepy eyes, and he instantly recognizes the look on your face - his betrayal will not be forgiven nor forgotten, especially this early in the morning when you’re less than agreeable on most things. Well, on all things, really.

He sits at the edge of the bed and silently offers a cup — your favorite cup — and you glare for a while before sitting up and grabbing it. It warms your hands, and you start to think about forgiving him for abandoning his duties as your personal heater.

Over the next week, Zayne gradually adds more layers to your shared routine, carving out a space for you in his little tasks. You’ve become less and less insistent on dragging him back to bed by force, knowing that you’ll be rewarded with a delicious coffee delivered straight to you within a few minutes of his departure. Once his peace offering is well received, he wraps your robe around you and takes you by the hand, leading you to sit by the patio window to enjoy your coffee - in the warmer months, you often sit on the porch — and only then does he take the opportunity to complete his run.

There, while listening to birdsong and being caressed by the gentle breeze, you’re thankful for the brief moment of tranquil solitude. Besides, you know that your husband will be back like clockwork, right as you’ve had your last sip. The corners of your lips inevitably tug upwards every time you see him rounding the bend, jogging back to you. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time all over again. You stand to meet him halfway through your yard, and he gently kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around his warm chest, and his embrace feels as comforting as it has ever felt.

You wash your face and brush your teeth while he showers, and vice versa, both of you relishing in the proximity and safety of each others’ presence even while doing something as mundane as getting ready. While you complete the final touches of your routine in the mirror, Zayne works on a simple breakfast. You’ve never been a breakfast person, but after much insistence and lecturing about how it’s the most important meal of the day, you end up caving, graciously accepting anything he offers you in the morning. His prowess at cooking helps too, of course.

Once you’re ready, you sit across from each other at the dining table, where a helping of sometimes egg and toast, sometimes waffles, sometimes fancy greek yogurt, sits waiting for you. There’s often no need for very many words as you share breakfast together. Both of you sit in the solace of each other’s company for a while, comfortable silence occasionally truncated by a comment of yours on how good the food is, or a comment of his on the weather forecast. Eventually, your renewed energy causes conversation to naturally take off, and you end up rambling about mundanities while he listens attentively, as though it’s the most riveting thing in the world.

By the time you’re set to leave, your morning has already brightened, your smile shining brighter than the sun as you offer to tighten your husband’s tie, a ritual he never refuses even though his tie is already in perfect condition. He returns your beaming smile, and finds that his morning has brightened too, more than he ever could have imagined. For a moment, Zayne blissfully contemplates how he would gladly upend his entire mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights, all at once, in exchange for this view.

Not all mornings are so predictable. In fact, some morning are simply a continuation of a long, long night…

Zayne almost thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your hunched-over form lit up by dancing blue light from the TV screen. When he awoke at four in the morning to an empty and cold bed, he assumed that you fell asleep in front of the lawyer drama you were so captivated with, but he didn’t imagine that you’d still be watching.

He gingerly comes down the steps, socks muffling his movement, and you’re so caught up in your show that you don’t hear him coming. He stands there, amused and baffled all at once, taking in the sight of you. Here sits his wife, normally a pinnacle of responsibility, huddled in a blanket with nothing but her face poking out, eyes bleary with tiredness, but burning with fervent focus at whatever ridiculous plotline is surely unfolding before her. He lets out an incredulous chuckle. The TV volume is almost too low to hear and you’re busy squinting at the subtitles; you’re considerate even in your most unreasonable moments.

“Honey,” he says, breaking the almost-silence.

You slowly turn to face him, a serious expression etched on your face.

“I think Jacob’s gonna cheat… with Anna-Maria,” you say gravely, as if the world hangs in balance.

He makes a mental note never to leave you to your own devices in front of these shows, even if you swear up and down you’ll only watch one more episode before you join him in bed. But for now, he figures you’ll need proper closure on whether Jacob truly plans to cheat on his wife with his legal assistant, and though he’s loath to admit, he’s curious himself, as Jacob always struck him as an honest enough man.

So he plops down next to you, reserving his lecture on your late-night escapade for another time. You unfurl yourself from your blanket-cocoon, wrap the blanket around you both, and snuggle up against him, thankful for the added warmth on this chilly winter morning.

You watch two and a half more episodes together, in which the Jacob storyline wraps up neatly with a bow on top - he was majorly guilty, of course. Zayne turns the TV off when all is said and done, and you sit in silence, processing the somewhat unsatisfying end to the plotline.

“Don’t you think he got off too easy?” you look up with half-lidded eyes and ask Zayne with genuine curiosity. At this point, the show has become entirely too real in your sleepy mind, and you seem to suddenly have a big problems with the gaps in realism. “His wife immediately went to ‘let’s try couples therapy’ and not ‘you’re an asshole and I’m divorcing you.’ She even put some of the blame on herself!”

Zayne can’t help but smile at how serious yet unserious you look right now - it’s frankly adorable.

“Well, Jacob seems to have something called plot armor, so that helped to lessen his sentence.”

You chortle at the clever wordplay, lightly tapping your husband on the chest. Lazily reaching over to pick up your phone, you check the time and let out a groan.

“Oh no. It’s almost six.”

“It sure is,” Zayne replies with a resigned smile.

“And now I’ve kept you up too,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m sorry. We should go get ready.”

But just as you’re about to drag yourself away from him, Zayne pulls you back into his chest.

“Call in.” It’s more of a gentle command than a suggestion.

You contemplate his words for a while, and he hopes that the warm comfort he feels right now, your body against snugly glued to his, will entice you to stay right where you are as much as it’s enticing him.

“I do have a lot of sick days saved up…” you ponder out loud. “Okay, fine, but under one condition.”

Zayne tilts his head at you inquisitively. Conditional capitulation being one of your specialties, he presumes you’re going to drag him through another one of these dramas that you enjoy so much, and that he’s grown to enjoy as well since meeting you (though he would never admit it).

“You call in too,” you say with a mischievous smile. “I stole two whole hours of your beauty sleep, and a certain someone once told me that any less than 8 hours is unhealthy. So let’s just stay right here and nap all day.”

Zayne leans over and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. You have a knack for saying exactly what he wants to hear — yet another one of your specialties.

“Deal.”

Even when you’re on vacation, hundreds of miles away from any and all possible responsibilities, Zayne doesn’t seem to have an off button. He’s up at seven thirty in the morning, and despite your countless nagging about how that’s too early, he’ll insist that it’s far later than his usual, and that it’s perfectly reasonable.

He’s seemingly impervious to jet lag - he’ll tell you all about how good sleep hygiene and optimal nap times contribute to mitigate its effects, though you’re convinced your husband must have some kind of genetic or occupational advantage over you.

Your mornings together begin almost two generous hours after he’s begun his own routine. His 6AM runs are replaced with what he calls a leisurely maintenance routine at the hotel gym. Then, he comes back upstairs to quietly shower off while you’re still dozing, but not before scouting the hotel buffet. This is a very crucial part of his plan for the two of you.

Zayne is thoughtful enough to let you sleep in on vacation, completing the rest of his morning routine as silently as possible, knowing how much you both need the time off. However, once his shower is completed, your time is up. By 9AM, the curtains are flying open, room service is already on the way with coffee, and he’s crawling into the bed you’ve now appropriated as your own, gently but firmly coaxing you awake as you try to cover your eyes in vain. You settle for gluing yourself to his body and using him as a makeshift shield against the bright sun filtering through the window.

“Mmh… ‘s too early,” you mumble into his chest. He smells of hotel soap, and hotel soap has never smelled so good.

“It’s nine in the morning, dear. You’ll stay jet lagged the whole time if we don’t fix that schedule of yours.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah - you’ve heard it all before. But staying right there, on soft plush covers, cuddling with your husband in the morning sun sounds like an awfully good deal in exchange for a little bit of jet lag.

“And the buffet closes at 10:30.”

He never tires of the way your entire body perks up at the magic word. You look up at him, blinking remnants of sleep away, and repeat his words, as if they’re too good to be true.

“Buffet?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the pastry situation?”

Your suddenly stern face and steadfast determination sends a low rumble of laughter through his chest.

“Full spread. Salty and savoury. Heated on demand.”

You gulp.

“And eggs?”

“However you want them. Unlimited toppings and fillings.”

You practically shove him off and commando-roll out of the queen bed, scurrying around the room to start getting ready. Normally your not-so-gracious dismount from your impromptu cuddle session would’ve earned you a cheeky comment, but as he watches you discard your robe on the bathroom floor, then saunter over to your open luggage to find your “buffet-primed clothes”, as you like to call them, your bare curves basking in the sunlight, he finds that he doesn’t mind your enthusiasm at all.

Thank you for reading! I’ve been thinking about domestic Zayne nonstop so of course I had to write about it. He’s so husband-material coded it’s not even funny. I might write something like this again in the future if I think of more scenarios! 💜

[dried-mushroom]

Reunited

Gwayne Hightower x fem! niece! reader

Warnings: team green (Guys I'm a team black girly but the Hightowers are just too fine), uncle-niece incest, getting caught, and PIV sex.

Note: I know in the show Gwayne is meant to be the older brother but for the plot of this, he'll be the younger brother of Alicent (Like he is in the books)

Summary: You were the 2nd eldest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, and you and your uncle, Gwanye, always had a connection much like your step-sister and her uncle have. After being sent away from the Red Keep to Oldtown after being caught with you in a compromising situation years ago, Gwayne returns, and you both are finally reunited, and he asks for your hand.

You adored Gwayne, ever since your mother had introduced you to him when you were near the age of ten and five and he was ten and seven. Gwayne quite liked you, and you him. You both spent a concerning amount of time together, he had taught you how to ride a horse and wield a sword and in return, you'd embroider the Hightower sigil into his tunics and read to him late at night, until the early morning, where you'd most likely fell asleep next to him, his gentle hold on you more akin to a lover than an uncle. You remember the day that he was made to leave Kings Landing, a gloomy day at that and you partially blamed yourself, because if you weren't caught with him, in such a situation, he would still be here.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

You had approached him in the training yard, watching him joust his spire, winning effortlessly, smirking at you the whole time. You rolled your eyes in jest as he seemed amused by your presence, he sauntered over to you,

"Good morrow my sweet niece, come to see me practice?"

"Is it really practice if you're just winning, Uncle Mhm?"

You smiled back him, hand reaching up, stroking his bicep through the material of his thin shirt, making his reaction turn from more of a playful gaze to a lustful stare. Gwayne knew you wanted him and gods forbid, he wanted you as desperately. You both knew it was wrong, the late-night visits, the lingering touches, the blatant flirting but you both couldn't resist the temptation. He disregarded his sword, opting to stroke your soft hair instead, staring down at you.

"Well, my princess, how else would I win the tourney then?"

Your eyes lit up and you had an idea, it was completely immoral and wrong but god you wanted him so badly it hurt, you craved to be more than uncle and niece.

"Well, Kepus, perhaps I have a motivator for you to win tomorrow."

Gwayne saw the glint in your eye and he couldn't help but glance down at your cleavage whilst you spoke, making him hard in his breeches when you spoke the next words he almost finished right there and then.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

He smirked at your boldness and leant down to your ear,

"M'lady I sure hope you know what you're implying and what you're getting yourself into."

You smirked back at him, moving your hand to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your hand.

"Of course, I know what I'm implying and I want you, Uncle. Good luck for tomorrow."

You walked away from him, leaving him breathless, a knowing smile on your face because you knew he was the best knight in Kings Landing, of course, he was going to win.

Moans and grunts were heard throughout Gwayne's chambers, the echo of his hips hitting against your pelvis was so loud, that you weren't surprised you both were caught. Gwayne tucked his head into the crook of your neck, nipping softly at the tender skin while his calloused hands palmed at your plush thighs and your hands raked at his back, your legs resting on Gwayne's shoulders, making his cock bump your cervix with every thrust. You knew he was close, the stuttering of his hips, how tense his muscles were and his hands gripped you like a vice. You began to play with his copper hair, entangling your hand in his soft hair and tugging softly, making him groan against your skin. His lips reached your chest, a hand leaving your thighs to grope at your breasts, his hand playing with your nipple while his mouth encircled the other, nipping softly at your sensitive skin, making you whimper while his hips still rutted into yours, much like an animal in heat.

"Fuck, my sweet niece, you feel like fucking heaven. Gods I won't last long, can I spill in you please?"

"Yes, please Kepus don't stop."

Gwayne loved hearing your mother tongue, you knew high valyrian better than all your siblings and even though he couldn't understand the language it always made him hot under the collar hearing you speak, especially when you read of the Targaryen histories to him late at night, your soft smooth voice was always a comfort to him.

It took only a few more thrusts and Gwyane's hands on your body for you to cum on his cock, squeezing, milking him for all he was worth. Gwyane fell slack against you, body twitching in pleasure as he emptied himself in you. Before you both could utter a word, your mother and grandfather had burst into the door, mouths agape at the scene in front of them, the Queen's own brother fucking his niece, her own daughter on his table in his chambers. You couldn't even defend yourself or Gwayne before Otto grabbed Gwayne by his hair and dragged him out of his chambers, his breeches loose on his hips, as Otto began to lecture him,

"Do you know what you've done? You've just sullied your future Queen. How are we going to marry her to her brother now, any suggestions my son?"

You're face burned as you felt the scornful stare from your own mother, who could see how debauched you looked, dress ripped and bunched up around your thighs, hair messy and a fine sheet of sweat covered you, you just silently prayed to the seven that she could not see Gwayne's spent dripping out of you. You swallowed cautiously and began to speak,

"Mother, I can explain-"

"There is nothing to explain. This didn't happen...I will see to it that the maesters bring moon tea to your chambers. As for my brother, my father and I shall discuss what will happen."

"Please Mother, don't blame Gwayne, it was I who pursued him."

Your mother didn't care to listen to your pleas and that was the last time you saw Gwayne. Not even a morrow later Otto had sent off his son, to Oldtown, not even letting you bid him farewell to the man you secretly wished to marry. You had cried for days on end, opting to stay in your chambers rather than face your family who judged you for your inappropriate behaviour with your uncle (You were a bit taken back considering Rhaenyra faced no consequences for the same acts with Daemon) resulting in you being subjected to cruel rumours, had you gone mad? Were you ill?

It took weeks until you could stand to see the familiar faces of your siblings, mother, father and grandfather without feeling entrapped by shame. They chose to forgive you for your...misguided transgressions (Although you disagreed, as you still longed for Gwayne's heart and yet him being in Oldtown, he longed for yours) and kindly decided to wed Aegon to Helaena instead of you, which were most grateful for, although you did feel sorry for your sweet sister having to deal with a drunken and whoring husband.

It was no longer than three weeks since your father's passing, Aegon's ascension to the throne, Jaehaerys death and funeral, years after your last interaction with Gwayne and the realm was in pure chaos, divided on who should sit the iron throne, your brother or your step-sister? You weren't directly involved in Aegon's actions, merely just there, observing how the cracks were beginning to fester between Aegon, Aemond and your mother. You tried burying your feelings towards Gwayne, knowing there was little to no chance of him returning nonetheless coming back into your arms.

It was a chill morning when you awoke, hearing the commotion from the servants outside. You groan, annoyed about how loud the girls were being outside your door, You looked at them confused when you opened the door, startling them.

"What is this commotion for?"

"Sorry Princess, it's just that Criston Cole is leaving today for the Riverlands and....Gwayne Hightower and his men from Oldtown will be attending with him. Today."

You thought you truly had gone mad when you heard those words come from the servant girl's mouth and without saying anything you shut the door in their faces. You shakily exhaled as anxiety ate at you. You couldn't resist the temptation of seeing Gwayne once more, the feelings that once encompassed you rose to the surface once again. You didn't wish to wait for your handmaidens and made yourself presentable, opting for a dark green dress, low-cut but not low enough to question virtues, and left your chambers.

You left the Red Keep, and entered the courtyard, spotting Criston Cole near his steed, you personally disliked the knight, knowing of his past and how he chose to spend their night with your mother instead of protecting the Queen and her now dead child, you didn't let Alicent know that you knew of her actions that night, preferring to keep it to yourself in case you ever needed leverage. You sighed before walking up to the man,

"Ser Cole, I heard of Gwayne Hightower's return, may I ask of his whereabouts?"

He huffed, seemingly annoyed at the mention of the other knight's name, alas you ignored it and gave him a questioning look. Despite his carelessness, Cole wasn't stupid and knew of your shared history with the older Hightower.

"Ser Gwayne should be at the stables m'lady, although we are set to leave soo-"

Cutting the knight off with a curt, 'Thank you' and you set off to walk to the stables, a good five-minute walk from the courtyard, allowing you to try to calm your nerves before seeing the man who stole your heart all those years ago. You approached the stables, and your breath hitched when you saw Gwayne, alone, tending to his horse, you walked closer before uttering,

"Uncle"

Gwayne's eyes lit up in surprise when he turned and saw you, how beautiful you had grown in the few years spent apart. He sent his house off with the stable boy before focussing his attention on you. He truly had missed you, refusing to be a suitor to any maidens in Oldtown, preferring to wait until he could ask for your hand.

"My sweet niece, oh how the years have made you even more beautiful."

Your mouth was agape when he turned and you saw how handsome he had gotten with age, mid-length copper hair framing his chiselled face, his vest was unbuttoned so you could see how toned he had gotten in Oldtown, tufts of reddish-brown hair littering his pale chest. He chuckled softly, noticing your staring, breaking you out of your stupor,

"Oh, Kepus, I'm so sorry about what happened, It is my fault you were made to lea-"

Gwayne walked towards you, softly stroking your hair with a calloused hand, with a small smile on his face, making you feel like a young girl again.

"My princess, It was my fault just as much as yours and it was years ago, the past no longer matters, although I must say my feelings towards you have not changed no matter the time spent apart."

You felt him grab your waist, pulling you closer, and whispering in your ear,

"Every time I stroked my cock, it was to the thought of you. Gods how I've missed you y/n."

You knew it was wrong but he was so tempting, a forbidden fruit. His touch lingered, his blue eyes staring adoringly into yours.

"Please uncle, how I have missed you so dearly, please tell me you're not leaving again after the Riverlands."

"Oh my sweet girl, I don't plan on it and I don't know if my sister ever told you but before I was made to leave, I asked her for your hand, I offered to take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife, after Targaryen tradition, like you once told me of. Alas, Alicent did not share the same sentiment."

Your eyes widened, he had wanted to wed you? Why wouldn't your mother tell you this? it would have spared you from your endless weeping for days after his departure and spared you from the ruthless rumours from court. You cupped the side of Gwayne's face, soft fingers, stroking his cheek gently, he leaned into your touch.

"Alicent did not mention it at all, all I was told was that you were made to leave after you had already left. Although dare I be so forward and ask, even after all these years, would you still want to wed me? I am a woman grown now and do not need my mother's permission and trust me when I utter these words, I have wanted to marry you since the age of ten and five and I still do."

Gwayne smiled against your hand and pulled you even closer, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against your own, his stubble tickling your face,

"Of course, I still do, my sweet y/n. I give you my word after that Cole's march to the Riverlands and we succeed, I will come back and we may not have Dragonstone but I will wed you, I swear on my life."

You didn't wait for him to continue before pressing your soft lips against his, he eagerly cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as his tongue poked at your lips, waiting for your permission, which you gave instantly, his tongue searching your mouth, dancing with your own. You suddenly felt his hardness press against your abdomen, throbbing against the material of his breeches. You snaked a hand down his chest to palm at the tightened fabric, making him groan into your mouth. He broke the kiss, admiring how swollen your lips looked under his ministrations.

"M'lady, please I need to take you once again. I have felt no other touch besides my own after you."

"But don't you have to leave soon? Cole sai-"

"Fuck Cole, he can wait, I need you y/n."

Your mouth was agape once again, you were surprised he had not taken a single lover after you, considering how attractive he really was. Alas, you couldn't resist Gwaynes's pleas and unlaced his breeches, pulling his erection, engorged and already leaking precum at your very touch. Gwayne pinned you against the wall of the stable between his hips and the wood, rutting his erection against your soft stomach, chasing any friction. He peppered kisses to your neck, nipping the skin, making you whine pathetically. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, pressing his cock against your pussy, which much to his delight, you weren't wearing any underclothes. Gwayne ran his cock through your folds, the tip bumping your clit with every thrust, making you moan and claw at his back.

Gwayne leant his forehead against yours when he entered you, waiting until you were comfortable before beginning to rut into you, setting a brutal pace, making your hands grip his shoulders and both finally got to enjoy each other once again. His hands gripped your hips to pull himself closer and you smiled against his chest knowing that soon you'd be wed to Gwayne, not having to worry about Alicent or even your own brother trying to force you into a marriage with some drunken lord. His hair fell into your face, seeing if he would enjoy it as much as he did when he was younger. You snaked your hand into his hair and pulled lightly, making him grunt against you,

"Fuck, if you keep doing that I'm not going to last."

As a tiny form of revenge, Gwayne moved a hand to rub little circles on your clit, making you whine, chasing your orgasm. As his pace increased, faster and deeper, his hand continued until he felt you clasp your thighs together, cumming on his cock, squeezing him deliciously. He lewdly brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your wetness, groaning at your sweet taste, ensuring he'd definitely be trying you himself soon enough. You moaned into his ear,

"Please Kepus, Cum for me, I need you to fill me up, I wish to carry your child."

The image of you swollen with his child tipped him over the edge, his body tense as he finished in you, hips stuttering against yours, his forehead pressed against yours as he panted, coming down from his high. You stroked his back, your nerves coming back knowing he would have to leave you soon again. He slowly pulled out of you, making you feel empty without him. He helped you stand up properly and he noticed your frown and tipped your chin towards him with two fingers,

"What's wrong my sweet princess?"

"Promise me you will come back to me. I don't want you to leave again Gwayne."

He smiled down at you, brought you into an embrace and whispered into your hair,

"My love, I will never leave you, and you know what? Fuck Cole, he has enough men for the march to the Riverlands and Harrenhal, he doesn't need me there, surely he can't be that stupid he can't lead a small army."

You laughed, an attractive sound, against his chest.

"You'd be surprised Uncle, but thank you for staying, I have truly missed you."

"My love, I wouldn't leave you again for the world, plus that man is fucking insufferable....and I would much prefer to taste you again."

The end

[pizzawrench]

will never understand people who leave their small kids alone w animals

[crushedsweets]

are tim and toby ever nice to each other :(

This made me realize I’m really lacking on proxy bonding (besides Kate and Toby) cuz I don’t want people to think they’re ALL just misery and fighting. They just show affection in more subtle ways. SO I WILL BE UPPING MY TIM/TOBY/BRIAN/KATE JOYFUL ANTICS SOON. In the meantime . I have a few old drawings of them being happy and messing around .

said it in a few text posts BUT tim taught Toby to drive and taught Toby a lot of car stuff, which is Very important cuz toby ends up becoming a mechanic in my AU . I think they do a lot of stuff like that together - tim and Brian teaching Toby a lot of stuff his dad failed to teach him, and I think they also have a better grasp on like… gender? Like Toby’s dad was really cruel to his family about gender roles, especially toby “being a pussy” and “needing to man up” and getting pissed if he caught Toby doing any “female chores” for his sister/mom . But then Tim and Brian are teaching him how to garden in the back yard and they’ll buy a box of shitty cheap cookie mix and ask toby to make it cuz they’re tired and half the time when Toby says something sexist (more so smth engrained in him like “I’m not a fucking chick don’t tell me what to do”, not smth out of hatred for women. JUST TO CLARIFY.) they’re like “toby what are you talking about” . So having like actually masculine role models who, ILL ADMIT IT HERE THEY ARENT GREAT THEYVE KICKED TOBYS ASS (and vice versa, the violence goes both ways), are typically more understanding of his situation, who don’t mock or kick him when he’s down, trust that he’s actually strong enough to handle himself, teach him important life skills, pat his back when he needs it, tell him they’re proud of him . etc etc. I think it means a lot to Toby. I like to think he finds himself modeling himself after them, even though he(and everyone else) insists they’re also assholes who think they’re better than the rest . N he really misses them when they ditch Alabama

This was a rlly quick ramble it’s 8am I need to go do my makeup so I’ll hopefully touch on this later cuz I wanna make more happy art with the proxies

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You didn't want to ask Rafe for help.

You never like doing it in general. The concept is foreign to you and it makes your skin crawl with a sense of dread, but you were desperate.

He hasn't come back to your bar in a while; probably off finding a new replacement for a fake girlfriend. Before, you hadn't given it much thought. You did decline. However, now, you wish he hadn't found one yet. Now, the offer sounds appetizing given the situation you're in.

You need to get in contact with him. You knew that showing up to the Tannyhill estate would raise questions but you didn't know where he would be. An idea suddenly popped up in your head and you decided to scroll through social media and find the nearest Kook party. You found one, just uploaded fifteen minutes ago, at Topper's house.

Parking in the street, you stare at the party in full swing. It has been a while since you've been to a party—too focused on working full-time at Sailor and taking care of your siblings—and the idea of going in unnerves you. You were still in uniform, well, it's something you try to wear everyday to get tips. A simple black crop top and a mini skirt. You find it ironic that you were at least dressed for the part.

Leveling some confidence, you push open the creaky door of your old car and head inside. It is absolutely crowded with people, with girls and guys drinking and dancing outside in the yard, near the pool, on the porch. Your eyes glaze over every single one of them, trying to find the one person you hope would be here.

You find Rafe near the back porch of the mansion. He's with a couple of his buddies, Topper being among them, and a girl on his arm as he holds a beer with the same hand. You weren't surprised in the slightest. This was his plan after all. You were just surprised by the feeling in your stomach.

The lick of jealousy you didn't understand where it came from.

You step up. His friends were the first to notice you, scanning over your body that you wish you had worn a jacket over yourself. When you are just in front of him, his gaze finally focuses and meets your gaze.

"Can we talk?" You ask, sparing no attention to the girl on him.

He scoffs, "fuck off."

Of course he's going to be an asshole. You didn't bother with entertaining his comment by grabbing his arm, pulling him up. You knew you didn't have the strength to take him completely so you were pleasantly surprised when he assisted and got up. He even pushed the girl to the side as you dragged him off to somewhere quiet.

Well, as quiet as the live party can be.

"What do you want?"

His words are sharp and harsh, but you expected nothing less. You figured something happened—that's why he entertains his vices, right?—and plus, you told him that you wanted nothing to do with him. If anything, he has a bit of justification to be pissed.

But that doesn't mean you would accept it.

"I was going to talk to you about your offer, but seeing as you're being too much of an ass, I guess I should come back another time," you snap, turning around to head out because fuck him. You weren't going to take it. You had other things to do. You would be forgiving, perhaps, if he actually talked to you about his problem but to be a dick off the bat? Not a chance in hell.

"Wait," he grabs your arm before you move far and this contrasts the strength you hold. One hand and a lazy attempt to hold you in place. "What do you want?"

He said that somewhat nicer.

You turn back with a glare, contemplating what to do, before remembering what's at stake. You're already here. Might as well get it over with.

"I'll do it." You say, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. It’s so embarrassing to ask for help. It feels even more so to backtrack into something you said you couldn't—wouldn't—do. "Be your fake girlfriend, I mean."

The corner of his lips quirks into an amused smile. Even in his drunk state, where his blond hair is darkened from the humidity of the space and his eyes glossed over, you can't help but admit how attractive he is. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"I'm not trying to be the next Mrs. Cameron," you snap, feeling the need to clarify. "But, I do need the payout."

His eyes narrow. "Thought you didn't want it?"

"I don't," you answer. "It's something else."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you. "What?"

Sighing, you wished you could talk somewhere more private. But, this truly is the best place you can get him. "When you get your father's company and start doing all the Kook bullshit of hosting charity events, galas, and dinners, I want you to use Sailor as your drink caterer."

It sounded like a good deal when you thought of it. You didn't want the money because you don't know how long this little facade is going to last. You needed something stable. You need something that would benefit you in the long-run. Since Sailor has been slipping off the profit margins and you've been dealing with some trouble regarding its ownership, you figured the business from all the catering would boost it up. It would give you status and credit. It would benefit you long after this engagement with Rafe ends.

His eyes look thoughtful of the idea. You wonder how he's calculating, how he's weighing the options about whether to accept your negotiation or to decline—telling you he already found a replacement. You hope it wasn't the latter. You needed this.

"No."

You clench your jaw. Of course. The one time you sought out help, instead of cleaning up the mess yourself, you got shut down. It's embarrassing.

"Fine." You say, ripping your arm out of his grasp and heading straight to the exit. You want to leave as soon as possible and use the time you should've spent going here to actually come up with a solution. It was a wasted effort on your end. You make a mental note of that.

Just a few steps short of the exit, some guy nearby grabs your arm and holds you in place. "Where you going, pretty?" He slurs his words, his eyes cascading down your body that you wished you pulled down the length of your skirt. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you."

You try to rip your arm off of his but his grip is firm. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, pretty," he gets closer, his intoxication reeking from his breath that you had to turn your head to avoid the smell. "I can make you feel real good."

Your hand clenched by your side while the other places a palm directly on his chest, trying to place some distance between you and the stranger before you commit to your next move. "If you don’t leave me alone—"

It happened in a flash. One minute he's holding you, the second he's getting knocked back with a punch delivered straight on the mouth.

You look up to see Rafe, his knuckles clenched and redden while the beer he was cradling had dropped on the ground into a million broken pieces. His breathing heavy while his eyes are a little distant, lagged out.

"Rafe," you call out, but before he gets the chance to face you, the drunk stranger comes staggering back with a punch in return. The crowd gasps and quickly moves out of the way as a circle forms, Rafe and the man trading swings.

No one is helping them. No one is attempting to. Rafe is significantly more drunk than the stranger, his footing is slightly off, and the drunkard is getting in more decks on Rafe's face.

When Rafe tries to duck from a delivery, the guy does directly to his stomach and it causes him to topple over with a grunt.

Having enough, you step forward and grab the stranger's shoulder. He turns around with a look of confusion—just in time for you to deck him as hard as your hand can swing, right in the face.

"Shit!" You swear under your breath, the blow rippling back and returning straight to your fist, aching.

The stranger staggers back, his back hitting the floor while you grab Rafe. You don't know where you're going, you don't know the layout of this house, but pushing through the crowd, you find an empty bedroom and slam the door close with a lock.

Thankfully, it had a bathroom attached to it. You set Rafe on the mattress as you flick the lights on and search for the cabinets for any aid. Rafe's bottom lip is busted, there's a cut on one of his brows, and bruising forming against his jawline. You don't even want to think about the mess on his knuckles.

Finding a first aid kit, you step back to see Rafe laid out against the mattress, his eyes closed. You rush to his side, afraid he has a concussion and he's falling asleep.

"Rafe!" You shout, hitting his cheeks with the back of your hand in light taps, causing his eyes to flutter open. "You can't do that."

Willing himself back to a sitting position with your assistance, you set the first aid kit to the side as you attempt to help him. Using your hands to cradle his face, you assess the damages.

"Where'd you learn to punch like that?" He asks, the heat of his gaze follows you as you remove your touch.

You shrug. "You need to learn two things growing up in The Cut," you hold up a finger, "how to deliver a good right hook,"

You pause for a moment.

Impatiently, he prompts. "And?"

You hold up his gold signet ring and his watch. "How to take advantage of a drunk."

He scoffs, snatching his things out of your grasp as you laugh, releasing some tension in your shoulders. "Pogue." He sneers.

"Kook." You retort, but there's a lightness in your tone.

Rafe says nothing as you return to your search through the aid kit. When you find what you were looking for, you start on his face, first cleaning the cut around his brow.

He hisses at the sting, but allows you to continue. It was an awkward position to be in, sitting beside him as you try to clean the damage, and he must've noticed how irritated you were getting with his constant shifts away from the pain. Without a word, he grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap with one swoop, both legs on either side of his waist as his hands settle on the small of your back.

"Better?" He questions, raising a brow.

You don't say anything, attempting to adjust your skirt rising up to your hips, before you nod.

Cleaning the wound, you tilt your head to examine what your next step should be. It's hard to figure out because the bruise is slowly forming and while the cut may be small right now, it's going to be nasty tomorrow.

To ease some tension of the silence, you prompt with a conversation. "You got into another fight with your dad?"

He stiffens under you, clenching his jaw. "What makes you say that?"

You feel his eyes trained on your face, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "Because you're out here getting drunk instead of getting wasted at my bar."

Rafe smirks. "Miss me?"

"No, it was good for business." You say, matter-of-fact, and the look on his face dies off. You feel guilty. Adding on, you rectify, "and, you would've had someone to talk to. I don't think the people around here are offering that."

He says nothing, watching you work. You exchanged the bloodied pads for some ointment.

"It's just about Sarah again." He mutters, almost like he didn't want you to hear but knowing you would. "Same shit. Same golden child."

You nod, finally flicking your gaze down to his. His blue eyes are so prominent now, so clear, you wonder if you could get lost in them.

Rafe doesn't disclose any details like he normally does. When he goes on long tangents about the problem. It must've been bad. So, you lower your hand and cup his face, tilting his face to meet yours. "Want to talk about it?"

He swallows hard. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Fuck." He answers without a thought, the ability to shift into a fuck-mode is easier than digesting his feelings. You laugh, inappropriately, dropping your hand from his cheeks. You're about to push yourself off his lap—having bandaged him up—and let him go find his next hookup, but his grip on your waist tightens.

He doesn't say anything with that move, and you tilt your head at him.

"I thought I was below your level?" You tease.

"Yet, you're sitting on my dick right now," he says, eyes following yours. "What do you think that means?"

While you're not directly on him, you can feel his hard-on swelling under his pants, lightly grazing against your core, and causing a small ache between your legs.

"That you're horny enough to go for a Pogue."

He scoffs, lowering his hands to your ass and palms the flesh. Your eyes flutter close at the moment. "Who knew you were hiding such a nice body behind that counter?"

"You just haven't been paying attention."

"I am now."

His hands lowering to your hips, slowly pulling you down his lap, realigning your cunt until it sits directly on top of his zipper. He leans forward, his hot mouth against your ear. "If I tell you to grind on me, would you do it?"

You place a hand on his chest, trying to ease some space between the two of you, but your attempt was weak. Some part of you didn't want to leave.

"You're pushing it."

"What if I told you it would make me feel better?" He whispers, his fingers trailing up your skirt, against your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "That you can consider it part of your deal."

Your breath hitch in surprise. "You're saying yes?"

"I was going to," he pulls back to meet your face, "but you ran away."

"You said no to me," you remind him.

"To rile you up," he says, like an asshole, and you scoff. "Didn't think you would just leave like that."

"Maybe you should give me clear answers then."

"Fine," his breath is right in front of yours. "I want you to ride me."

Your eyes trail his face, your hands finding his shoulders. You know you shouldn't. You know if this is supposed to be fake, why do you feel a deep, carnal urge for him. If this happens, it opens the door to other things. But, something in you softens. He did get a bruise for you. He did defend you. He's in pain and you're in need.

Maybe you could use each other.

Slowly, your hips roll against his. The look on his face hints at surprise that you took the bait and causes you to smirk, gripping his shoulders harder when you find the hard cock lined against your panties. You press down.

"Fuck," he groans raspily, "just like that."

The praise lights something in you. "Like that?" You repeat, pushing yourself against his jeans, rubbing up and down, that you can feel him grow harder and harder against the seams of his pants. He nods shakily. "Is it making you feel better, baby?"

He knows you're taunting him, using his words, but he fucking loves it. You're listening. For once, you're not actively trying to spite him and knock back—but willing, to him.

"That's right," he compliments, his gaze following your body as you are starting to find a rhythm against him. Your movements are getting sloppier. "Just what I need. A Pogue who listens to whatever I fucking say."

You nod vigorously, feeling your wetness growing against your panties, drenching the material enough to leak through and rub off against the front of his pants.

"God, look at you," he muses in your ear, glancing down, and a chuckle leaves his throat. "You made such a mess."

"Feel so good," you moan, you tip your head back as the friction of his jeans feels incredibly perfect against your swollen clit.

"Come on, sweetheart," his grip around your waist tightens, afraid with the way you're moving, you're going to fall off. "Ride me."

You follow his direction, quickening your pace as low groans and rasps leaves his lips at the sensation you're making him feel. The sound is like drugs to you, fueling you, because you want to desperately help him arrive at his own climax.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, grinding ruthlessly against his lap. Leaning forward, you dip your face into the crook of his neck. "Come on, Rafe," you whisper into his ear, closing into your own orgasm. "Come for me."

As you came with a moan, your movements didn't stop. Your legs ache, begging to stop, but you want him to get there too.

"Fuck, fuck," he moans at your aggression, at how hard you're pressed against him, moving against him, it's a mesmerizing sight. "I'm coming."

You feel it against your core. The subtle twitch of his dick under the jeans. The faint wetness under you, mixed with your own cum, produces a small smile against your lips.

You slow your grind, pulling back, just to meet his eyes clearing from their post-orgasmic haze, and his grip has weakened significantly around your body. When you stop completely, you push yourself off of him, finding your feet on solid ground with wobbly legs.

"Better?" You tease, to which he nods weakly through heavy-lids. With a satisfied smile, you turn around and head for the door.

"I'll see you on our first date." 

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03

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Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Date Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader

based on this lovely ask. I've added some zest and a lil smut that came out of nowhere cuz why not. Mommy and Daddy are horny when they're alone.

Warnings: unprotected sex, brief breeding kink, car sex, semi-public sex, descriptions of reader's body related to pregnancy

18+ONLY

- - - -

Joel’s been waiting for this night for over a year now. It really shouldn’t take this long to get a date night alone again with the wife after giving birth, but lord knows the Miller family girls were inseparable the minute Sarah let out her first cry into the big world. 

You’ve been the ever attentive Momma, and Joel couldn’t have been more ecstatic to have the perfect trifecta.

But oh my god he needs a minute alone with you again. You wanted to be with Sarah 24/7 and vice versa. And since the little bean turned 3, she’s become more clingy than ever possible. 

Not tonight. He’s made the perfect reservation, had Tommy clear his schedule to babysit for weeks now, and even picked up a gorgeous necklace and matching earrings to compliment adults-only night out. The kids (being Sarah and adult-Tommy) can have their own fun. Joel needs his wife tonight.

“And she gets 30 minutes of TV max okay? Then you have to read her—one second Joel—one of her books, she might pick it out herself, please be patient, she’s gonna keep switching it on you but that’s ok, and then—oh don’t forget her blanket is in the dryer so its extra warm—oOH and Tommy—“

“He’s got, honey,” Joel tuts. Tommy has been approved for babysitting duty before. He trusts him (as far as the neighbor can see into the house not being burned down).

You and Joel are standing in the kitchen, ready to sneak out the back door while Sarah is dancing to the little trolls on the television in her own world.

“Okay,” you whisper. Joel holds the door open as you hesitantly look back. “I”m just gonna give her a quick kiss--“

He looks his arm into yours and hoists you back. “No! She won’t let you go. She’ll be fine. C’mon.”

Joel and you tip toe out and round the garden to the front door with giggles, trying not to stumble over the long grass and patchy holes in the yard.

You’re almost to the car parked in the driveway when you hear screaming from inside, followed by the door opening and a midget Sarah running towards you with a red, tear-stricken face as Tommy is shouting “Hey get back here bug!”

“Mama!” She smashes her face into your dress and wraps her arm around your legs. Her little body trembles with sobs.

“Sarah, Mama’s here, it’s okay.” You pout and crouch down and hug her, cooing away her baby tears. 

Joel makes eye contact with Tommy who’s standing at the front door with an apologetic look. He shakes his head: mission failed. But he’s not giving in so easily.

The toddler sniffles and wipes her cheeks with puffy fists. She grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house, and Joel follows behind.

You sit and watch tv with her for a few minutes but she starts to look sleepy. Joel nudges you again, and you slide off the sofa carefully as can be. This time, you don’t even make it to the door before you feel a strong grip tugging at your dress.

Twice more over the next 40 minutes, Sarah comes screaming towards you, refusing to let you go.

Joel’s given up on the reservation and just hopes the two of you can snag a bar spot at this point.

“I’m sorry, she just keep slipping—“

“She’s got so much fat,” Joel grumbles as you plant fat kisses on her head and sway her side to side in your arms, “There’s no way she just ‘slips’. Just hold her down, Tommy!”

Sarah is glued to your leg, crying as you once again try to leave the house with Joel.

“No!nonononoNONONONONO!” She wails, bitty nails digging into your calf.

Joel gives Tommy a look just as Sarah is rubbing her face on your dress. "SARAH,” he shouts with a stern booming voice. His thick finger points down at her authoritatively. She hiccups, startled, and listens:

"Daddy and Mommy are LEAVING. Do you understand me?"

Her lips wobbles, eyes scrunching into a terrible fit before screeching at the top of her lungs in tears and going to hold you tighter. 

Before she reaches you, Tommy scoops her up by the belly and slings her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes at the same time Joel hoists you over his and takes you to the truck. 

Joel has to drag you to the car as you watch Sarah's teary red face and outstretched arm yelling for you dramatically from Tommy's shoulder before he closes the front door on her.

You sit in the passenger seat timidly. Joel angrily slams the door before rounding towards the driver side.

“Finally,” he grumbles, putting his seatbelt on and turning the ignition.

You sniffle a bit, looking at the window solemnly.

“You’re not crying, are ya?” He asks hesitantly.

“No!” You cry.

He grinds his jaw but continues to put the car in reverse. His warm hand pats along your thigh as you wipe the almost tears from your eyes. You refuse to let your makeup get ruined.

“It’s gonna be fine, Christ, Mama.”

You nod and cross your arms, thinking about your baby girl and her sad tears the entire ride.

-

At the restaurant, Joel managed to get a table despite the hostess grumbling about their lateness. He’s pleased, finally having you to himself, no child at the hip to worry about, just the two of you again like it all started.

He sips his wine and admires the view: you really put forth the effort tonight, your hair blown out and beautifully full, makeup neutral yet with a sexy hint of red lipstick, and the earrings and necklace compliment your looks perfectly.

Not to mention the boner he’s getting from seeing you in such a dress as if you were back in your 20s again.

"You look so beautiful," he says quietly with a smile.

"Yup sure do,” you say curtly, sipping your water quickly and then twiddling the button at the time on the phone.

He grunts disapprovingly. “Can you really not just relax—“

"We've never been apart from her this long!"

"Yes we have. When we both work. She goes to daycare. Tommy has baby sat her before."

"Mmmhgmmgmfmdmdddfgfggrrhrhrr but she--"

“She needs to learn to self sooth on her own. She’s FINE.” He reiterates. Joel refuses for this night, this one night in a very very long time, to be about Sarah! “What about us?"

You pause and look up from your anxious state, turning to a worried, perplexed one instead. “What do you mean? We're fine, aren't we?" You ask hesitantly, and he absolutely catches the wobble in your voice.

"Yes…! Oh honey, no I didn’t mean it like that. I mean... well…  I never get to see just you anymore."

Your eyes soften with remorse and heartfelt appreciation. “That's what happened when you have children, Joel."

"I know I know, and I love her to death, but Jesus I love you too! I loved you first and I miss just having you to myself sometimes too. I feel like I’m competing with her over you.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m sorry. I know I get so worked up. If she had a sister, it'd be so much easier on her.”

“How are we supposed to give her a sister if I can't get 5 seconds alone with you?" 

You hide the little grin on your face just as he dips to catch it with a satisfied smirk. “If that were the case, you would have taken me to a hotel tonight. Not dinner.”

Joel contemplates with wide eyes of realization at his mistaker of venue. “We can get this to-go right now. Can get to the holiday inn in 10 minutes, and I’m sure they got a room for the next few hours—“

You kick his shin and laugh. 

He can’t stop smiling with you. You’re finally relaxed now, and just as radiant as the first day he met you. Same when he married you, and every day you were glowing during the pregnancy. The only moment that beat it was when he saw you first hold your newborn in your arms.

“I can’t stop staring at you,” he admits. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You bite the inside of your lip and check your phone again for the time. Butterflies kick up in your stomach and nestle somewhere south that has your your thighs clenching together. Throwing your hand up in the air to signal the waiter: “Can I get a to-go for this? We have somewhere to be, right now.”

-

You couldn’t manage to wait for the drive to the hotel. Forcing Joel to pull over on the side of some empty backroad, crawling into his lap and stripping his jacket just as you grind your panty-clad core into his slacked-bulge. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” he groans, pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply. Both your hands are busy trying to undo the other’s clothes—his fingers working to unzip your dress, revealing your smooth back, breasts on display for groping. At the same time you nimbly fight each of his buttons to push your palms against his broad chest. Fighting to suck in air between each forceful kiss. Entangled in one another like horny teenagers.

“I miss this,” he hums against your cheek just as you reposition your underwear to the side with one hand, fisting his cock out of his slacks with the other. His hands glide over your ass, patting your cheek once, ruffling the slit in your dress.

“Me too,” you snicker, finally settling his tip at your entrance. “I miss being able to straddle you without a belly,” you add quickly, and he almost laughs were it not for the synchronous moan you both let out as you sink down on his length fully.

Your eyes flutter, but a gentle grasp of your jaw pulls your face just an inch from his. “I want you to watch me,” he groans. “Watch me make love to you.” Your lips hover over his plump ones as you begin to slowly rock up and down along his massive cock. “That’s it, that’s my wife. So good f’me.”

You nod, whimpering softly. Each little hump pushes his tip deeper, nudging your g-spot effortlessly.

“So full,” you whine.

“You take it so good, baby. Always have.” His arms wrap securely around your hips as you grind on one another. He really was made for you. Your walls always fit like a glove around him, just tight enough to make him nearly blow his load each time were it not for an extreme amount of effort to avoid it. Every change to your body since having Sarah has only made his lips and hands hungrier to feel, the new dips and curves, soft plush areas just begging to be grasped by him. He wants it, wants you and so much more.

“Joel,” you warn, keening with little high pitched etches caught in your throat. “M’gonna cum.”

“Me too,” he rasps. “Gonna do it inside. You gonna take it?”

You nod, tears of euphoria welling in your eyes as you whimper.

“Gonna put another baby in ya? Right fuckin’ here, in my truck behind a restaurant? That how you want it? Dirty dirty girl, holy fuck—“

You gasp, your entire boy trembling against him as you cum. He captures your lips before you let out your moan, walls contracting around him until he feels his lower tummy snap. Balls twitching, he grunts into your mouth as he spills his generous seed deep into your womb. It’s so much, so pent up, so drawn out. 

It’s the best mind-clearing cure you’ve ever had. 

You collapse forward on him, slouched and panting against his sweaty neck. Your soft lips connect with his collarbone. He pecks your forehead, brushing the hair from your face.

It’s not comfortable at all, scrunched up here in his car. neither of you are nearly as young as the recent activity suggest, but with his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you, the fog blurring the windows and separating the two of you from the rest of the world, you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet in Joel’s arm. Just the two of you—

His phone buzzes in his pocket and you fish out the device.

12 missed calls from Tommy.

You sit straight up and hit your head on the roof. “Ow!” 

But there’s no time to hurt, not when Tommy’s last text message isa jumbled mess : ‘45ssfgh5 vi w2434467777$$75%refft+..87’ 

“Oh my God! OhmyGod—OHMYGOD— Joel, we need to go home right fucking now! What if they’re incoherent? What if something crashed into the house? What if it’s a fire? What if someone broke in—!”

He wipes his face with both hands. Truth is, he knew his phone was going off all night, but if you weren’t getting any messages, then it couldn’t have been an emergency. It was best to deliberately ignore whatever Tommy, a grown adult, couldn’t figure out on his own.

“Alright alright. We’ll go—“

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!” You scratch, setting into the passenger seat and reaching to turn the keys for him.

He slaps your hand away offensively before tucking his softened, creamy cock back inside his trousers and speeding back home.

Low and behold, as you nearly trip out of the car towards the house (the very intact, not on fire, not broken into, normal looking house just as you left it,) you stumble into the front door to see Tommy passed out on the couch with a drooling Sarah propped up against his shoulder.

Clutched in her tiny hands is Tommy’s massive phone that is the side of her arm, with Joel’s contact open and a half jumbled message of random letters and numbers still half written before she must have fallen asleep.

You sigh heavily.

Joel comes in right after you and chuckles as you catch your breath. You smack him on the shoulder. 

“Probably shouldn’t wake her,” he whispers to you with a peck to the lips. You pout but obey, not wanting to make a scene right as she’s asleep.

He walks over to his younger brother and flicks his forehead.

“M’up!” He mumbles.

“You’re supposed to put her to bed before you fall asleep.” He scoops his sleepy baby into his arms and carries her off to her room, leaving the door cracked.

Joel escorts Tommy out just as you unlatch your earring. You glance back towards her room, the light from the kitchen illuminating a sliver of the bed, and Sarah has somehow miraculously disappeared.

You’re running out after Joel, who’s opening Tommy’s truck door just as you both see something waddling in the dark and getting into the back seat by herself.

“Sarah!” 

The toddler rubs her sleepy eyes but doesn’t respond, just sits quietly in uncle Tommy’s truck with the lap belt pulled over her seat.

Joel, on the other hand, sees the opportunity to get you alone, loud, and spread out in bed all to himself for the rest of the night. “Yes, take her!" He encourages. Tommy grumbles with his hands on his hips.

You shake your head in disbelief and shove past him. “Sarah no! Mommy's home! Let's cuddle—“

"No." She says plainly. "I go to MeeMee now."

"No! You stay with Mommy!" You cry. 

She shakes her head again more defiantly, but her little voice cracks as just mumbles. “You lef me!”

Your heart is cracking in a million pieces, chest aching so badly as water blurs your vision. “I’m sorry! Please I won't do it ever again!"

"No!"

"You're never watching my child again. Thomas!” you seethe at defenseless Tommy.

 Now you and Sarah are crying and hyperventilating in the driveway at 10pm.

"Daddy made me!" You wail like a baby yourself. sounding almost indistinguishable from Sarah now. Fat tears spill down both of your faces, sagged shoulders twitching with each sniffle. 

You and Sarah both huff and wipe your puffy red eyes. 

Finally, Sarah speaks up with her little sobs subsided: “Daddy go to MeeMee and Mommy and RaRa stay home.”

“Deal. Joel, pack your bags,” you say plainly, straightening up and reaching out for Sarah, who gladly accepts you in her arms. 

As you walk with her on your hip back to the house without another word, Tommy glances back in amusement.

And just like that, Joel was #2 again.

-

Joel fluffs the flat pillow on Tommy’s bed. The two of them sharing the full mattress since the younger brother only just moved into his new apartment, not having picked up any other furniture at the moment except for his tiny ass mattress.

"You think this is real funny don't you,” Joel grumbles. He tugs on the blanket and shifts uncomfortably over to his side, facing away.

Tommy chuckles and wipes his face, trying to clear the soreness from his cheeks after laughing all the way home. “Hell yeah. You wanted that, all of it, remember?"

Joel just grins happily, subconsciously twirling the gold band on his ring finger. He checks his phone one last time, the picture of you and Sarah as an infant in his arms smiling up at him. "Yeah. Yeah I do." 

-

 He’s achy and exhausted when comes back home in the early morning. Tommy had kicked him off the bed in his sleep, so the older brother just walked home for 20 minutes.

 It’s not until he sees you and Sarah curled up on his bed together, her little pjs riled up over her fat belly, fist clutched above her head, and you with your protective hand around her hip, nose buried in her hair, breathing so softly in unison, that he can't imagine anything better. He kisses both your heads before walking back towards door.

There’s a little rustle and patter noise behind him, and Joel stops, almost shouting and jumping up when he turns to see little Sarah standing on his heels looking up to him. She points to the bed with very pouty lips and tired yet steamy eyes. Joel takes her hand and she guides him to the bed.

She clutches the side and hoists herself up with all her might before Joel joins in on his vacant side. Two tubby fingers grip his cheeks and pull him to stare directly into her soul a she says clearly: “Don’t ever take Mama away again. You understan me?" With a fat digit pointed inches from his eyeball.

He swallows and nods fearfully: “Yes ma’am". 

Switching on a dime, his babygirl smiles gently and kisses his scruffy cheek. Her little head settles onto his shoulder just as he tucks her between the two of you, curling around her and nuzzling himself into your hair.

He sighs heavily and feels himself falling asleep, his family finally wrapped up into his arms. 

"Daddy," Sarah says after 12 seconds of silence, rubbing her eyes. “Chocwit pancakes."

Your head jolts up and you hazily grumble, “Ooo pancakes yes please! Can you put chocwit chips in them?" 

You fall back onto the pillow, pulling Sarah back into your arms with a content, lazy smile.

He rolls his eyes and crawls out of bed just as Sarah and you cuddle closer together and fall back asleep.

 - - - - 

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[starry-bi-sky]

It's 10PM.

It's 10PM and Danny is fourteen, standing in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. There are stitches in her side and a vice grip on the sink ledge, her fingers are stained a dried red. She was fixing the stitching. Her back is bruised -- as is many places -- and her throat is sore from a power she didn't know she could use -- until today, that is.

She's fourteen. It's 10PM.

Her family was supposed to die today. They would've, if not for Clockwork and his kindness. She can't get the choking smell of ash and dust and burning gas out of her nose.

Her family should be dead. They're not. They're alive.

So why can't she get the rock out of her stomach, the urge to vomit out of her throat?

Danny didn't save her family. Clockwork did.

She can't get the sound of that other her out of her head. The cold laughter out of her ears. That woman wasn't Danny, and yet she was wearing her face. Both living and dead, she was wearing her face.

She drags a hand through her hair, and then down her face. Her hair is gross. Dirty with grime and oil and sweat, it plasters to her head, it itches the back of her ears, it prickles the nape of her neck.

That other her had long hair like her. Long and flowing and white fire. White hair and blood red eyes. Her face, matured, staring back at her. Danny doesn't know what her name is, she never asked. She's been calling that other her 'Me' in her head.

It's not her, but that Me is a part of her. So it's just as worse.

Danny didn't save her family; Clockwork did. Her hands are shaking, her legs are shivering. There was no control today. Everything felt like a moving train -- fast, unstoppable, speeding down one track and by the time you hit the brakes, it's too late. Someone's already been hit.

Danny Fenton should've begun her downward spiral today. Her downward spiral into villainy. She didn't. Because of Clockwork. Only because of Clockwork.

He was the one that showed her the future. Hew as the one that saved her family. Not Danny.

Jazz says when someone feels like their life is out of control, they tend to make desperate changes to themselves in order to feel like they regain it.

She reaches for the scissors.

They're thin, not meant for hair. For thread. It's from the first aid kit.

She grabs them anyways, and grabs a fistful of hair.

There's no thought behind it, just numbness all over. Numbness, and an icy fear. It doesn't all cut in one fell swoop; she has to saw, just a little bit.

Her eyes never leave the mirror. Blue eyes stare back at her, blue eyes she's been steadily becoming unable to recognize. In the end, she's holding a chunk of her once-long hair in her hands, a thousand-yard stare staring back at her, and with an uneven haircut that tickles her neck.

Her vision stings. Her throat grows thick and ugly. Tears bleed into her eyes. A whine, a wail, swells in the back of her mouth, and pins itself between her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

Mom and Dad sleep, safe in their beds. Jazz is asleep, safe, in her bed.

She drops the hair in her hands and lets it scatter across the floor, she drops the scissors and it clunks clumsily, loudly against the floor. She's half afraid that it'll wake them all up. But no one stirs.

She reaches forward, grips her fingers against the ledge of the mirror, and opens it to reveal the cabinet behind it. Finally, her reflection won't look at her.

Turning numbly to pick up the scattered first aid kit across the floor. There is a grief is lodged between the climbing bars of her ribs, stuck like a pebble in between the grooves of a shoe.

She cleans up the bathroom silently. She wipes the blood off the tile and puts the first aid kit back where it belongs, and gathers up the discarded hair to throw away.

She mourns the whole time, flinging the tears from her lashes with every blink. In the end, she half limps over to the door. Her fingers linger over the light switch.

Bye-bye, Danny, she thinks. She doesn't turn around to look at the mirror.

If that is who Danny becomes, Martha simply won't be her anymore.

She turns the light off, and doesn't look back.

[akixa]

FLOWER || GunxF!reader

Hahaha idk.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁˚⊱🪷⊰˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

Your father is a close associate of Yamazaki Shingen, who is famously known as the "Demon Tiger" and leads the powerful Yamazaki Clan in Japan. As the trusted right-hand man of the Yamazaki syndicate vice president, your father often brings you along to their meetings. However, due to your young age, you are not permitted to be present in the room with them, as there are concerns about your safety. Upon arriving at Yamazaki's residence, you immediately sense the solemn and foreboding atmosphere that permeates the surroundings. You instinctively clutch onto your father's arm, feeling a sense of unease and fear every time you visit this place, particularly at the thought of encountering the president once more. The first time you laid eyes on him, you were overwhelmed with an intense desire to vanish, hoping to avoid ever seeing him again.

As you stand alone in a single room, eagerly awaiting your father to finish his meeting, you find yourself overcome with a sense of restlessness. In the past, you would have simply whiled away the time, but today is different. Boredom nags at you, urging you to break free from its grip. With a determined push, you slide open the door and step out into the quiet hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing around you.

As you tread forward, you find yourself emerging into a lush backyard, enveloped in a sea of vibrant greenery. The gentle caress of the wind against your skin brings a sense of peace, grounding you in the present moment. With each step, you can feel the earth beneath you, the soft blades of grass bending under your feet as you explore the tranquil expanse of the yard.

As you strolled around, you caught a glimpse of the vice president engaged in a conversation with the man beside him. You swiftly ducked behind a towering tree, ensuring that you remained unnoticed. Peeking cautiously, you noticed they were still engrossed in their discussion, so you shifted your position to get a better view of what had captured their attention. To your surprise, you witnessed two brothers and a young boy engaging in a combat exercise. While you recognized the two brothers, the young boy was unfamiliar to you.

Perhaps he was a new trainee? You had never seen him before, not even during your initial visit. You observed him as he executed punches and kicks, while one of the brothers corrected his form. As the boy paused to catch his breath and wipe away his sweat, your eyes unexpectedly met. Startled, you quickly retreated behind the tree, hoping to remain unnoticed.

You let out a slow, heavy sigh and begin to walk away from where you were standing, deliberately avoiding the gaze of the boy who is still watching you from behind.

You find yourself in Yamazaki's residence once again, opting to stay put in the room while your father wraps up his meeting. Thankfully, you brought along a Kendama, a classic Japanese toy, to keep you occupied. The only issue is that you're not particularly skilled at it. After a few unsuccessful attempts, you set it aside and settle in to wait.

Suddenly, you pick up the sound of footsteps approaching from outside. You assume it must be your father, but how could the meeting have concluded so soon? The footsteps come to a halt outside your room, prompting you to grab the Kendama, ready to defend yourself. The door slides open slowly, revealing the boy from the previous day.

The room falls silent as the boy begins to question you, but you're uncertain about whether or not to respond. You don't know him and don't want to jeopardize your father's safety. You choose to remain silent as the boy moves closer, attempting to engage you in conversation. When you refuse to engage, he seems dejected.

While observing the boy, you notice his striking eyes. Such a odd eyes. As you study him, he notices the Kendama in your hand and inquires if you play. You nod and hand it over to him. To your surprise, he plays the game with remarkable skill, effortlessly executing various techniques. You're captivated and can't help but watch him play.

After some time, you finally introduce yourself, and he responds by introducing himself as Park Gun. You chat as he continues to play, and before you realize it, it's time to depart with your father. As you bid him farewell, you detect a trace of sadness in Park Gun's expression as he holds the Kendama in his hand. He quickly brushes it off and heads towards his mother's room.

After that day everything went downhill.

Few days later, your father went to meeting without you bringing to him. You ask him why you can't come along with him and he respond that the business is getting out of hand and for your safety you need to away from that place as he ruffle your messy hair making your worries for him go away before he leave you alone in your house.

You gaze at the window seeing the sakura tree start to loose their leaves. A sudden pang on your chest make you feel deep emotion. Confusing but you brush it off and just do your chores and do nothing once again. You wonder, will you see Gun again? Hopefully he will be fine. Hope so.

Years later. You feel sad that you didn't see Gun for years. Trying to convince your father you want to come along but he keep declining it and leave you. Now is your first time studying in daycare. Finally something entertain you while your father is gone. After daycare time, you and other start to walk towards to parents, except your father weren't there. He seem very busy that he don't have time to pick you up in daycare. You bid farewell to your teacher before you walk alone to home. During you walking adventure you notice a lutos lake on the way. You decided to go there and have peaceful moment all by yourself. You watch the water move the lily pad as the lutos flower floating around. While sitting on the wood of bridge you feel a water drop top of your head as you look up to see the sky is getting cloudy and yet you didn't bring umbrella with you. Good thing you see a huge Lilly pag near you and you grab to it making snap sound of separating the top from the root and hold it like umbrella while the clouds start to rain down to you.

Out of nowhere you feel someone is standing behind you watching at you. You turned to see Gun looking at you as he get wet from the rain.

“Why you standing there? Come over here.”

As you pull his hand towards you, you guide him to sit next to you, moving the lily pad to the middle so that Gun is also covered with you. You were overjoyed to see Gun today. Both of you just sat there, enjoying the peaceful scene of raindrops falling on the lake. Lost in the moment, you didn't notice Gun reaching into his sleeve to pull out a small flower, which he then gave to you.

“You know? Since the day you didn't come to visit. This flower reminds me of you. So innocent, pure, and pretty.”

Your eyes widen when he softly spoke at you. You look at the flowers on his arm, it those look pretty. A tint of red appeard on your cheek as you smile at him.

Your so glad that you went there in raining moment with Gun before you two not see each other again.

As a teenager, navigating through school has become increasingly challenging. Gun, a figure who was once prevalent in your life, has now become a rare sight, even to your own father. You have gained a deeper understanding of Gun through the conversations your father has with others, revealing that Gun is the son of the Yamazaki clan president and the future head of the Yamazaki family. His sole purpose is to avenge the humiliation his father endured at the hands of Garpyong Kim fist gang.

Pity.

It's a pity to see someone so young burdened with such responsibilities; he should be enjoying his youth like any other child his age. Fortunately, your father has made efforts to keep you away from anything associated with the Yamazaki clan. However, a challenge arises as you find yourself interacting with Gun whenever the opportunity presents itself, all while keeping this information hidden from your father.

Here you are on the street walking back to home. Deja vu? Kinda. You find yourself walking down a dimly lit alley, seeking solace from the cacophony of the outside world with your earphones in, lost in the depths of your phone's music list. Oblivious to your surroundings, you inadvertently step on something, or someone, causing you to jolt out of your reverie. As you look down, you are met with the sight of an unconscious body beneath your feet.

Startled, you quickly retreat, only to realize that the alley is littered with more prone figures, each bearing the brutal marks of a physical assault. The grim scene before you sends a shiver down your spine as you grapple with the harrowing realization of the danger that surrounds you.

“holy…” you whisper as slowly remove your earphones on you.

As you gazed at the scene in front of you, fear gripped you. Suddenly, a heavy rain began to pour down, and you realized that you had once again forgotten to bring an umbrella. As you hurriedly made your way through the area, being careful not to step on any of the unconscious bodies strewn across the ground, you caught sight of a pair of familiar eyes gazing up at the cloudy sky.

“Are you having a moment, Gun?” you approach him while you use both of your arm cover your head.

“moment? No, I'm just admiring the rain.”

“you will get sick ‘future head of Yamazaki’ ”

“stop talking nonsense and your the one who will get sick easily”

As you two continued to exchange bitter remarks and playful jabs, you reached into your bag and retrieved a towel. Gently, you began to wipe the blood from Gun's face as he leaned down, allowing you to reach his face more easily.

“you should stop whatever you doing, Gun… I don't care if this your phase or something but this is not fine at all.”

“Why?”

“You hurt others that lower to you and you shouldn't done that. You hurt them, you hurt yourself more.”

As you finishing up wiping his face to his neck. Once you done you feel a hand before your head and pull you toward just to feel a soft kiss on your forehead before it pull away. You look up to him just to see his eyes looking at you, eyes locked together in romantic trance. He walk away from you with small wave to bid farewell to you. He even put a small flower on your ear.

“go home. You will get sick”

“Your the one to talk!”

As his figure slowly fades from your sight. It's the last time you will see him before you and your father move away to Korea, leaving behind memories of the past. The thought of leaving him behind feels like a heavy weight pressing down on your heart. The raindrops mix with the tears on your cheeks as you realize that your childhood romance is coming to an end. New chapter to you will begin soon as you step in to the Korea.

Did you know? Gun have garden of you everytime he doesn't see you, he would go there and sat thinking you with him because [your favorite flowers] reminds him of you. :)

[estcaligo]

Nobody: Me at 3 AM: Glorious Masquerade represents the confrontation between polytheistic and monotheistic worldviews

Or "The Big Three of Olympus vs One Christian God" in the Glorious Masquerade event

Content Warning: Greek Mythology, religion, Christianity, Glorious Masquerade event spoilers

Note: I talk about things in this post from a researcher's point of view, in a descriptive and comparative manner mostly. Just some observations.

I've already discussed a similar concept before - Idia, Jade, and Sebek representing Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus, the "Big Three" in Greek mythology, the most powerful and important gods of Olympus - during the Harveston event. See the post here.

However, in the Glorious Masquerade, the situation becomes even more peculiar because the SSR characters are dorm leaders - those who are in charge. And then there's Rollo, who is twisted from Frollo.

Note: I will consider all sources of inspiration for Rollo, including the book and the musical, which were confirmed by Yana herself to be inspirations for Rollo.

What? Why? Who?

3 vs 1. The Big Three of Greek Pantheon vs The One God, who embodies 3 in 1 - the Father, the Son and the Spirit.

The Big Three are the three most powerful gods among the Olympians - Zeus, Poseidon and Hades.

Zeus commands the sky, lightning, kingship and summon any weather conditions.

Poseidon manipulates water, storms and earthquakes.

Hades has dominion over the dead and undead, darkness, earth-related disasters, and metals and jewels.

*By the way, lightning was considered just Zeus throwing a temper tantrum, and what happened when Malleus got angry? Right, he started throwing  lightnings left and right.

And now we have Rollo. Twisted from Frollo, who, as we know was a religious man (especially in the book where he is a priest, not a minister).

And despite there being other characters, such as vice-president and the assistant, they aren't "real" or “important” characters like Rollo.

So we can say there is only one (1) main character in this event.

2. 7 Dorm Leaders vs 1 Head of the Council

As is well known, Ancient Greek mythology features many major gods, each controlling different aspects of life (or representing them, or serving as patrons). This makes Ancient Greek religion a polytheistic system - meaning it has multiple gods - akin to the Great Seven and the dorm system at NRC.

The Dorm Leader Council functions much like a small pantheon. Not to mention NRC is located on upper hills, which resembles a mountain (Olympus) if we look at the landscape of the Sage Island.

On the other hand, Christianity only has one God, making it monotheistic religion. There are multiple saints in Christianity, who are patrons of different aspects of life, however it is important to note that these saints do not control - they are more like the intercessors between man and God.

Even the NBC itself is focused on one Villain and has one statue in the yard, not the 7 (the "pantheon" of NRC). And NBC itself doesn't have Dorm system like NRC.

3. Oral vs Written

Greek religious tradition is primarily oral, with legends and stories passed down through generations by word of mouth.

In contrast, Christianity is predominantly a written religion, where the written canon holds great importance.

How is it important here?

Well, in this event specifically the NRC guys spend their time walking around and commenting on things. We learn some of their lore and thoughts on various topics through dialogue. Even Professor Trein reveals his past verbally telling about it. Naturally, it’s a game mechanism. But since we’re talking about such details….

On the other hand, the most important part of Rollo lore is found by the Big Three in written form - Rollo’s diary.  It's also noted how Rollo prefers writing above all else. He writes in his diary, sends letters, and drafts invitations. While this may not apply to the NBC in general, since we're focusing on Rollo, this detail is worth considering as well.

4. Our guys vs That One

Another difference between the two religions is that the Greek gods had flaws that made them more similar to humans. They had tempers and they often held grudges. This made the followers of the religion not want to be like them but, instead learn from them and their shortcomings, frequently through fear. 

In contrast to the flawed gods of Greek mythology, Jesus is portrayed as a man who is to be aspired to, more so than the Greek portrayal of a god; who the audience learns from (imitating in a way), rather than obeys.

Our NRC boys are someone we know and who we’re familiar with. We know their struggles and fears, their dark past. Even the guys in charge of each dorm - the Dorm Leaders - are not so distant from the regular students. Well, more of less.

Whereas Rollo is described by all the characters we’ve met at NBC (and even from his vignette) as someone who is amazing, excellent, wonderful and so…exemplementry. Rollo, at the same time, distances himself from everyone.

5. Vertical vs Horizontal

A small but interesting observation is that many monotheistic religions, including Christianity, often have a “vertical mindset” - symbolizing a relationship between the human and God.

In Christian cosmology, we often imagine a vertical world structure: Hell at the bottom, the human realm in the middle, and Heaven above.

In this event, we also experience vertical movement when things get serious. Initially, when it's peaceful and fun, we mostly walk around the town (mostly horizontal, not including the lower parts).

However, when the action begins, Rollo first sends us downward into the sewers. From there, we start moving upward. The ascent of the tower is highly symbolic, as we are literally ascending towards the sky where Rollo awaits us (with his “judgment”)

 6. Masks

The whole masquerade theme is, of course, a nod to the cartoon and part of the game feature to get the characters to dress up.

But let’s remember that in Ancient Greece, masks played a significant role in theater, particularly in tragedies and comedies (twst features elements of both). In general, it is known that masks represent hidden nature, transformation, and more. 

Interestingly, only our NRC squad wears masks and costumes. We even encountered some Royal Sword Academy students, but they were not given costumes (again, a game feature, but still noteworthy).

On the other hand, there's Rollo, who isn't wearing a mask or even a costume. He doesn’t need to. He is who he is, with no need to transform into something else, as he represents the One, in our comparison here. 

What's even more interesting is that, despite not wearing a physical mask, Rollo is the one with ulterior motives in this event, and we only learn his true face later on. He metaphorically takes the mask off, even though he never wore one in the literal sense.

7. Catholic Guilt

The last but not least - Rollo's punishment, which, perhaps is the most fitting and cruel outcome for him. Rollo, after being defeated, expects harsh punishment because he is ruthless with himself and assumes others will treat him the same way. He failed and he expects to be punished. However our Big Three surprise him by concealing the truth and allowing others (the NBC mobs were the first to thank him for his bravery at the tower) to believe that Rollo was a hero. This situation forces Rollo into a state of internal torment, where he must live with the guilt of his actions while being praised for something he didn't truly do.

Rollo's punishment is psychological, forcing him to confront his guilt and shame in isolation. They choose leave him one on one with his Sin.

On the contrast, in Ancient Greek mythology punishments were often cruel and involved physical pain. One of the most popular example would be of course the myth about Prometheus, which, by the way involved Zeus.

And the way Big Three dealt with Rollo was truly cruel in its own way.

(from an interesting article about Greek Gods and punishment - here)

Fin

I left out some obvious notes like Malleus having horns, Rollo hating on magic etc.

Naturally, there may be other details I haven’t mentioned, so feel free to add any additional insights!

[spacedace]

Got another dc x dp writing prompt blurb thing for yall (this time featuring TimKon)

Elle declaring herself Queen of the Clones as a joke because Danny is the Ghost King and she should get a fun title too and accidentally making herself effectively the god of clones across all dimensions as a result.

Elle being suddenly aware of all the clones in existence in a vague way, but able to "tune in" on specific ones, or suddenly becoming aware when a clone is in serious trouble.

Elle deciding, fuck it, she's gonna take care of all the clones that need taking care of, turning her haunt in the Ghost Zone into a place of safety, using her new abilities as God Queen of Clones to make it so whenever any of them need help they get pulled to her Haunt instantly.

Connor getting mortally wounded in a fight, saving the day but getting buried in rubble away from where anyone would be able to dig him out in time to save him and suddenly being Somewhere Else.

Connor getting saved by Elle and the yetis, but having amnesia from the severe headroom (he can't remember anything except maybe the face of a boy his age, dark circles under sharp blue eyes, a wry smile, the understanding that Connor was in love with whoever the boy is or was).

Elle not being able to tell where Connor is from, her Haunt just pulls clones in trouble in when they need her help, there's no sending address or anything like that. And he was in such bad shape its not like she trusts that sending him back to where ever he's from is even safe to do.

Connor being one of the permanent residents of Elle's haunt (she always tries to find the clones that end up there a place of their own, getting Clockwork to de-age them and a good family to love them for those that want that, a spot in Amity where clones don't even register as anything weird, or just back to where they came from but now with the promise of somewhere to call home and a new family of clones to care for them) and ends up with the title of her knight or champion or something along the way, looking after everyone when Elle is off traveling and generally being vice-president of Clone Club

Elle getting captured by the GIW while out seeing the world, unable to escape but at least able to alert her family that she's in trouble.

Danny and the Pham not being able to break in because of all the upped security keeping away anything ghostly or ghost adjacent

Connor and a group of the clone club rallying to get Elle out themselves, breaking in and releasing as many ghosts as they can and destroying as much as they can and oops the Justice League has shown up

Connor not having powers in the Ghost Zone and being very freaked out when he punched Superman in the face and sent him flying a hundred yards, surprising the Clone Club with his super strength and surprising the League with his surprise about his super strength and frantic apologies to Superman for yeeting him across an open field (up to this point they assumed this was another evil clone situation Lex cooked up but now aren't so sure).

The GIW ends up closing in to attack the clones who just got Elle back and need to make a break for it before the portal back closes while that's happening and Connor decides to be self-sacrificing and give them cover, so they can escape.

Connor surrendering to the Justice League before the GIW can grab him once everyone else is free and clear, because he knows Elle and the other Clones will break him out and that's gonna be a lot easier if he's not in GIW custody

Tim and the Young Justice gang losing their God damn minds because that's Connor?? Maybe?? He doesn't remember them or the Justice League or Superman or anything but it has to be him right? They never found his body, Tim had been so sure he was still out there alive somehow - had lost weeks and months to maddening grief, desperately searching for some sign that Connor was out there somewhere - and now here he is!

Connor refusing to talk to the JL, low key trying to figure out if they actually do know who he is or if it's a trick - the Pham's stories of what they've all had to deal with and his own recent raid on the GIW has left him with a healthy suspicion of anything government related and the JL may not be with the GIW but they sure as hell are still government goons as far as he's concerned.

The main league being worried that it's mind control or a clone scheme or something like that and not really being sure what to do. There's too many questions about what happened to him, where he's been, what he was doing in that raid on that government facility - there's questions too on just what kind of facility that was, and a new case has already been opened on that whole can of worms - and Connor (if it is Connor) isn't answer their questions.

So they put him in a cell with some Kryptonite to make sure his powers are suppressed - half out of concern that him surrendering to them is a scheme, half terrified that if he really doesn't know he has powers anymore that he'll accidentally destroy the Watchtower with a sneeze. They make sure it's comfortable, he did apologize about punching Superman in the face - a lot, actually, it was pretty much the only thing he had said the entire time, along with very concerned questions on if the Man of Steel was okay - and while there's something strange going on, if it's mind control then they'd rather Connor come back to himself somewhere decent.

And no one is supposed to talk to him alone, or outside of a formal interrogation or without Wonder Woman there in case Connor gets hostile - even with the Kryptonite, they can't be too careful - but that's not going to stop Tim. His best friend is alive, there isn't a power in the universe that's going to keep him away.

Connor doesn't recognize him. Except that he does. It's weird, because his only memory has been the face of that boy, but there's also just something so familiar about Red Robin and it's the first familiar thing he's known since waking up in the Far Frozen over a year ago.

For awhile it's just Tim talking, trying to get Connor to remember, trying to do anything he can to prove (to everyone, to himself) that this really is Connor. And after over an hour he's nowhere near ready to give up, but he is maybe ready to go and have a breakdown in a supply closet for a bit, when Connor finally starts talking back.

He doesn't say much - he's suspicious, even as he becomes more and more sure that Red Robin is someone to him - but he does start talking and, it's nice. Familiar.

And just as he's considering actually telling Red Robin something - everything, really, Connor's always been a sucker for a cute boy that looked one more cup of coffee away from a psychotic break - the cavalry arrives. Ghosts everywhere, causing a distraction and looking for Connor and maybe just having a little fun fucking around for a bit while they're at it.

(Constantine is trying to sneak off to smoke somewhere he won't end up getting lectured like he's a disobedient school boy, opening a door to come face to spectral bellybutton with Fright Knight. He decides maybe Bats is right and he should quite smoking as he - fruitlessly - closes the door again without a word.)

Wulf is ready with a portal and Technus is in control of the station and the cell door opens just as Lunch Box appears to phase the cuffs off Connor (and maybe steal some of that delicious rock candy that was in those cuffs for some reason, her parents won't let her have any back at home and she's helping the royal family get one of their loyal knights back, she deserves a little treat) and it's time to go.

Tim's ready to throw down, terrified that whatever the hell these things are they're going to take Connor away again, but just as he's working out a plan on just how he's going to fight something that can walk through walls, disappear and fly (and eat fucking Kryptonite), he suddenly finds himself being thrown over Connor's shoulder and being carried through a terrifying rip in space and time to another dimension.

Conner can admit, as he lands back in Elle's haunt with all the ghosts streaming in behind him as the portal closes and the Clone Club rushing forward to check on him and Red Robin still slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (a cute sake of potatoes, though) he might not have thought this one through.

Kidnapped by his amnesiac and possibly mind controlled best friend and dragged to hell(?) aside, Tim's just happy Conner brought him with him this time. Batman and the rest of the League, still reeling from what just happened, are not nearly as happy with that fact.

[thebibliophilevigilante]

When it comes to getting intel, there are several ways to go about it. One could ask politely, or ask the right questions to eventually draw information from their target. There is intimidation, threatening your target and demanding the information in exchange for remaining unharmed. Then there is incognito surveillance, appearing inconspicuous and melding in with one’s environment just listening and watching.

The current session was the latter.

A raven-haired man with a blanched tuft in his bangs kept his teal eyes trained on the book in his massive, calloused right hand. His left swirled his take-away cup absentmindedly. He was reading words, but they weren’t registering in his brain. His focus was more concentrated on the conversations around him, and what information he could gather before his next patrol.

The first three rules of real estate are location, location, location. Burnley Brewhouse definitely had that, especially for Jason Todd. It was conveniently placed right on the very edge of Burnley, practically at the juncture of where Crime Alley and The Bowery neighborhoods started (which were all Jason’s domain). By day, the neighborhood was full of regular citizens, students and tourists. By night, the whole area was crawling with denizens of the dark wheeling and dealing for their own personal gain and vices while putting others at risk.

Jason brought his cup to his mouth for a sip, his eyes flicking to the counter where two men with heavier builds were waiting for their order. One had a rough 5 o’clock shadow, the other a scraggly, unkempt blond beard, both wearing holy jeans and beat-up leather jackets. He recalled seeing them once during a patrol a couple of weeks prior, skulking around by the Freight Yards. They were definitely up to no good then, and could offer him decent information in the present. The barista handed both of them a take-away cup, and his eyes quickly glanced down to his book again, his peripherals watching as they meandered around to sit at a table caddy-corner from his in the back corner of the shop.

“Terry was telling me about that new candy order he has coming in,” 5 O’Clock muttered lowly to his friend. “Said it should get here overnight, and we can distribute to the stores first thing in the morning.”

Scraggles ran his nails over his beard as he listened. “Loaded with sugar? Y’know these kids can’t get enough of their sugar.”

“He said it was everything needed from the inventory list. He said he has his pal Molly coming in to help with the shipment too.”

There was a small pause before, “How many donuts did he get and where from?”

“11 for the crew. I think he said they’re from Declan’s over on 14th Street.”

Jason had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Those two idiots were blatantly discussing a drug drop in broad daylight just as if they were talking about a regular candy store shipment.

He switched the book to his right hand as he snagged a napkin from the holder and a pen from the table. He scribbled a note to himself, writing the characters’ names from his book, followed by “PG 11, DL 14.” He knew his own shorthand; the character names were to keep up appearances. “PG 11” would remind him the drop was scheduled for 11, and “DL 14” would remind him the ship would be at Dock Bay 14.

His attention went back to his book as he brought the pen to his lips, teeth nibbling on the retractable plunge as he appeared deep in thought. He was about to tune back into 5 O’Clock and Scraggly’s conversation when the cafe’s entry bell rung.

His eyes flitted to the door to assess the entrant, and he froze. A young brunette with piercing dark eyes was glancing around, looking for a place to perch herself no doubt. She was breathtaking, and certainly unlike any other person he had seen come in to Burnley’s. As she turned to the counter, he couldn’t help the large grin that danced over his face. First he got lucky with the tip-off. Would he be lucky enough for that gorgeous girl to sit anywhere within his vicinity?

@rpwiththelilflower

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Family Affair 🔥| House of Dragon Headcanon

Being the cousin of Viserys I, Daemon, & Rhaenys would look like: 

You're the youngest of the bunch, born roughly five years after Daemon in 86 AC by one of the many offspring of King Jaehaerys I and his wife Queen Alysanne Targaryen and were raised in the Red Keep alongside your family members. Despite being younger, you were close with your many cousins, specifically Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon. Clinging to them like a little shadow and viewing the three more like older siblings than cousins. 

From a young age, you displayed courageous and sometimes controversial characteristics. Claiming the mighty Silverwing as your mount on your ninth name day, henceforth you were dubbed "The Daring," by the Court and the Seven Kingdoms. The nickname applying as you got older for your sharp tongue to the Lords and Ladies of Westeros, as well as fighting on the frontlines during conflict in the name of your King & Gransire. 

You were highly more favored by the Court opposed to your older cousin, Daemon, aka the Rogue Prince. The vision of duty, honor, and loyalty, you were what every Targaryen upheld. So much so that some believed you should have been a contender as Jaehaerys' heir. But unlike Rhaenys and Viserys, who were the eldest grandchild and eldest male relative, you were unmarried with no children. Something you had no interest in obtaining and was your main criticism by the Court. Had you been, then the Lords of Westeros may have drawn to your favor as the future ruler of Westeros. A fierce warrior and respected member of society. 

But you can't lie, you and Daemon were more alike than what the Court desperately tried to ignore. Where Rhaenys and Viserys were on one side of the coin, you and Daemon were on the other. The only thing that made Lords and Ladies believe otherwise was the fact in public settings you two were constantly at each other's throat. Constantly bickering, exchanging childish insults, and calling the other out. To them, you both despised each other. Unaware that behind closed doors Daemon is the first person you go to when you're suspicious of someone and vice versa. And when Viserys is crowned King, naming both you and Daemon to his small council, you two know better than to trust anyone else than each other. Not blind to the cunning snake that is Otto Hightower. 

Speaking of Otto Hightower, he's not your biggest fan as you can expect, but he tolerates you far more than Daemon. Otto hates that you, like Daemon, can see through him and verbally question him during council meetings. But unlike Daemon, Otto doesn't have to worry about you causing scandal and knows you would never bring dishonor to the Targaryen name. Really you two ignore each other, and only exchange pleasantries when in public at Court. And Otto knows better than to cross you. The one time he suggested Viserys try to arrange a marriage for you, you hunted him down and made sure he thought twice before ever trying to rid you of the Red Keep ever again.

"Next time it crosses your mind to plot schemes against me, my Lord Hand, remember what happened to the last man who tried." There was rumor the last Master of Coin had been murdered, coincidently after suggesting you had no place on the small council. Otto had his suspicions, but never questioned aloud. "You would not dare." "To not, would be an insult to my name." 

As your cousins had children you became an aunt/uncle figure to them. Rhaenyra in particular loved to be around you, trailing you like a little shadow like you once did her father and uncle. She liked to stand close to you during small council meetings and accompany you to the Dragonpit or training yard. And you were quick to notice her affections for Daemon as she grew, something you brought to Viserys attention to which he brushed it off as her being young and having a silly crush. When the King named her heir, you bent the knee and swore to her as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. As for Laenor and Laena, you sometimes surprised them at Driftmark to which Rhaenys was grateful. Each time you brought gifts from Kings Landings and your travels, as Viserys tasked you with maintaining domestic and foreign affairs by visiting the Great Houses and Essos. 

You were no fool when Viserys announced his intent to marry Alicent Hightower following the death of his beloved and your cousin, Aemma. Alicent was Rhaenyra's closest friend, therefore there were times she joined you and the Princess at Court. She was a young, sweet thing, and it filled you with rage that Otto had enlisted her to seduce him in his goal to merge the houses and hopefully put Hightower blood on the throne. But most importantly, you were furious with Viserys, "She is a child, cousin, and your daughter's best friend, nonetheless! How could you do that to Rhaenyra?! Do you not see what place you've put her in?" And when you openly accused Otto of scheming Viserys was quick to shut you up like he did Daemon the year before. By the end of the heated argument, which the maids and guards feared could turn violent, you expressed your disappointment in your cousin before taking leave. Finding Rhaenyra to say goodbye, leaving her tear-stricken and taking Silverwing to head for the Stepstones to help Daemon and Corlys with the war. 

It would be years until you returned to Court, alongside Daemon following the victory against the Triarchy. Viserys welcoming you two back with open arms, and you resumed your place at his small council. You met his young children Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, then little Daeron came along. And you were quite displeased with your cousin after observing how closed off he was with them, the children displaying happiness whenever you were near and trailing you like a little shadow. Reminding you of when their half-sister and cousins were their age.

Aemond liked to shadow you more than his siblings, as did Daeron before he was sent to Oldtown. Which is no surprise given Aemond wanted to be a skilled warrior like you and Daemon. Pleading with you to teach him how to wield a sword and claim a dragon. Helaena liked to show you her bugs, and while you didn't understand her riddles you never treated her like others in her family. You'd sit with her in the gardens or the library and keep her company in between her lessons. As for Aegon.....he was a sweet child who turned into a menace resulting in you having to knock him down a peg. You knew it was due to his mother and grandfather's influence, but that didn't excuse his behavior. While you never laid a hand on him, all you had to do was give him a look and it sent him running with his tail between his legs. 

This trait of being an aunt/uncle continued as Daemon had daughters with Lady Laena, who you visited in Pentos at least twice a year, and Rhaenyra having sons with Laenor. Again, you were no fool. It was obvious the parentage of Rhaenyra's sons was questionable due to their physical traits. But you kept your tongue silent and loved them, helping raise them as Targaryen Princes. Lucerys clung to you if his mother wasn't present. You dotted on him, as he was the more emotional one of his brothers. Especially when the topic of his future to Driftmark was brought up. "Worry not, my sweet nephew, you've a long way before taking your seat on the Driftwood throne. Until then enjoy your youth. Leave all the politics and boring stuff to the adults." 

Though the children were technically not your nephews and nieces, you viewed them as such and would go to war for them. Sometimes trying to hide them from the harsh reality of what it means to be a child born into the Royal house of Targaryen. Their future was something you feared but didn't show. And whenever you, Daemon, Viserys, and Rhaenys found yourselves in the rare company of each other, it reminds you there is no stronger bond than the blood of the dragon.