#you reminded me of my father you’re the spitting image of him

[moliathh]

Vamptober 2023

Day 15: Alucard

father and child

[gladiatorcunt]

FIND YOUR LOVE | CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: modern!coriolanus snow thoughts

cw: crack treated seriously vibes, typical coryo warnings, possessiveness/obsessive behavior, piss kink mention, period blood mention, spit kink mention, slight impact play mention, coryo and reader both have double majors because they’re overachievers, plus sized reader implications, drake mention, reader has bunny teeth & hip dips & glasses, talks of carving letters into skin, spying mention, overstimulation mention, images used in social media elements are not an exact represtation of the reader’s gender or image & are more about the vibes, “wife” usage but he’d feminize you no matter what, implications of sejanus playing the long game, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.4k

requests are open (read the rules first <3)

block & move on if uncomfortable.

do not repost or translate!!

Unaware rich kid because while a tragedy did happen in the family (his mother dying in childbirth according to his politician father who was later assassinated) nothing happened to really set them back to square one like in canon. He never really has had to claw himself back to the top, he’s just always been on a steady elevator ride to it.

Clumsy in the beginning in the way that he tries to be intimidating. He’s never had to starve so how can he understand its usefulness as a weapon?

Meets scholarship student double major classics and archaeology (minor in philosophy) reader who has only ever struggled.

The type to violently beat someone to near death on a whim and smirk as he’s escorted out of the police station with apologies because his family’s amazing team of lawyers were called.

Definitely part of some Saltburn ass family where you visit and you’re just like “what the fuck?” the things the 1% normalize (there are rumors of his family being cannibals back in the day, they might be a crime family, his high school principal fucked his mom AND his dad) never cease to disturb and confuse you but the gardens are very nice!

Strolls with you through them to seem romantic but also to brag about his family on your second date that he insisted be at his house (he was kind enough to let your first be at his family’s vacation house in the south of France)

Piss kink (creaks the bathroom door open to hold your hand or he leans against the door and stares you down if you take too long), period sex (more the type to eat you out on your period though) spit sharing and smearing, etc. Because of his carefully manufactured image, when he’s in love he just wants to completely let go and be gross and have that he accepted by the person be loves (plus it scratches the possessive itch in his brain by marking you and knowing you’d be too embarrassed to do it with anybody else)

Really only hand spanks you when you’re actively fucking and he’s so caught up in it all, he just grips the flesh of your ass and furiously jiggles it in his hands in between brisk strikes of his open palms and gets caught on your hole accidentally, it gets to the point where you’d want him to hit harder even if you thought you wouldn’t be into it because it’s just so unintentionally teasing.

Unlike the stereotypes, wouldn’t really be into drinking (other than wine because he thinks he’s above the beer drinking peasants) or drugs (other than the occasional line of cocaine 🤭) thinks keeping a clear head while you’re doing evil plotting is important. Typical white college rich boy hypocrisy (keeps you away from it though, even weed because it can kill your brain cells and he likes his bunny smart.)

He WILL carve his full government name onto you like a womb tattoo if you answer his texts 5 seconds after he expects you too. You CANNOT play with him.

Asked you out by leaving a bouquet of roses on your desk every morning with a note like “these are my grandma’am’s roses, and their beauty could only remind me of you 🥺🥹” (he threatened your roommate to deliver them and made sure they did thanks to the hidden camera he also had them put in)

Double major Political Science and Latin, minor in Philosophy but he likes ancient/older philosophy more. #1 “um actually 🤓👆” offender (hell is hot but his body runs ice cold, so he does not care <3) someone says they like philosophy and he goes “name three philosophers other than Nietzsche and Camus. I bet you’re the type to read Kafka too huh? whore.” (/j)

So hot though like modern Coryo has the curls but a touch shaggier. Everyone on campus turns their phones to the side and takes “discreet” pictures and makes those whisper posts like “need me an unhinged crazy jealous psycho possessive bf” but they’re not you so that wish will never come true :)

Say you’re going to McDonald’s, and he will kill you (if you’re from the south and you try to feed him anything traditional you’re used to, his charcuterie board and caviar eating ass will implode)

Another student in class asks you to borrow a pencil & his brain genuinely goes haywire so without looking he sends them the “let’s play a little game I made” TikTok (by the time you look back at him, he’s warmly smiling as he makes sure you see his hand sliding up his thigh)

If you think you’re working after getting your degree (he could’ve made you drop out, be grateful you get to spend more time together this way) then you’ve got a big storm coming (hope you can accept being baby trapped mwah)

He’s your little chihuahua named sparkles that bites people.

Emotional drake listener

The type where if you 99.7% (he will allow some wiggle room) give into his delusion and insanity, it’s nothing but smooth sailing (for you) and sex would still be passionate but never rough. Sometimes he slips a bit, but you just get more family heirloom jewelry and 5 billion sessions of oral as apologies.

On the swim team and runs track (somehow still looks hot no matter what doing those sports, wants you lick all the sweat off his body after he’s done. (he’d do that for you.) has a private yacht and does polo with Sejanus.

You once sat down, opened a package of cabbage leaves and went to town & Coryo knew in that moment that love is not a choice, it’s a curse.

Buys you mountains of clothes (the softest sweaters or the tightest evening wear because he loves how nothing about your body is hidden from him and one of his favorite ways to wind down is to soothe the marks left by the tight clothes digging into the chub of your tummy with his tongue) also loves how much bigger your thighs get when they spread out as you straddle him in one of his buttons up that reaches just under your ass.

Has a garage full of classic cars that he fucks you in and takes you on drives in.

(Insp. by that one video) fucks you on your stomach while cradling your jaw and when he’s done, he’s kissing down your back and all over your ass while hold a hand on the back of your neck. Eats you out upside-down kneeling straight up on the bed, the skin of your thighs spilling between his fingers as he grips them and nearly bends you in half. You don’t really ride him because he uses you like a fleshlight.

Tits guy no matter the size, prefers jerking off over them and covering them in cum over a boob job.

He won’t let you out in it, but you can be his bunny for Halloween since your front teeth remind him of a bunny, he already has the ears and tail waiting for you. That tweet where it’s like “okay everybody my bf’s about to walk in you all have to clap or I’m blowing this whole fucking building up” but that’s him when it comes to you.

Canon era snow is a girl dad, but modern snow is a boy dad, I fear.

Met you when you had just finished checking into your dorm, you were scrambling all over the place and without looking you bumped into the it boy of the school. His hands suddenly curved like shackles around your hips, his fingers subconsciously stroking your hip dips being the only reason you both didn’t careen to the floor from the collision.

“You should be more careful, wouldn’t want you to get a nasty bruise now, would we?” said with an unreadable yet playful tone and a snake’s smile, lips slightly curled up in the corners and a little too many teeth showing to feel truly comforted. His tongue flicks over his canines for a split second.

Smells like Maison Francis Kurkdijan’s baccarat rouge 540 (buzzcut Coryo gives Dior Sauvage vibes)

Matching airpod max sets and lets you put little bows on his.

Impeccable cable management, phone wirelessly charging on the nightstand or kitchen counter until it’s at 100% and doesn’t charge it again until it’s at 1%

Teaches you how to swim if you don’t know how, with a hand curled under your neck and another under your thigh to help you float. But has no problem just lounging with your back on his chest on the deck of his yacht or laying his head on your chest while you read together on the private beach he booked during your trip.

Slowly fingers you while making out with you and massaging your throat with his other hand. His chunky rings make clanging sounds against your pussy, and he smiles into your lips when you whine. He rests his forehead against yours & slowly spits in your mouth when it falls open as he makes you cum over and over until you’re too tired to leave the apartment he bought for the two of you.

Jiggles your tummy rolls when you’re fucking but sometimes, he’ll just casually bite them, loves laying his head on your stomach and when you sleep. He likes to have a firm grip on the chub of your tummy. He also just plays with it, pulls it, and kneads it but occasionally he’ll gently smack it.

NUTS ON YOUR STRETCH MARKS LIKE HE’S ICING A CINNAMON ROLL

Anyway, his grandma’am owns a fleet of flower shops across the country as well as managing the snow family’s gardens, and luckily enough the one closest to campus was hiring when you enrolled!

Pisces sun Capricorn rising Aries mars, stay strong.

Has to look you in the eyes or he can’t cum.

Always keeps glasses cleaner and a microfiber cloth on him so the second he sees you rub your eyes in frustration because you can’t see through them anymore (because in your mind that would somehow fix it) and reach to grab them off your face, he’s snaking his hand out and snatching them up. He doesn’t even give then back to you; he tenderly tucks your hair behind your ears and slowly slides them back on your face. literally booping the center of them with a grin. Also has your custom designed glasses case (with his initials) in one of his bag’s front pockets.

You asked him to buy you the Gojo skin in Fortnite and he grumbled “you already have my information.” But in his mind, he’s like “what does he have that i don’t?” 💀 (he’ll lose his mind when he finds out you like Geto more). Will play with you on a team consisting of the two of you and Sejanus. (so, he can keep an eye on you two)

Has very pretty cum, pearly and so thick you get jump scared when it leaks out because your pussy tries to weakly clench to keep it inside and it just pushes through. Cums less often but when he does its huge continuous loads, humps against whatever part of you he can like a dog and lays his head on your chest.

You could almost argue he likes anal more than anything else. When he eats you out, you run an extremely high risk of him “getting lost” and starting to eat out your other hole. When his dick slips out, he makes you watch while he slaps it against your clit and drags it through your slick to teasingly act like he’s going to push it into your ass.

Kisses his camera when you fall asleep on facetime if you’re apart from each other. wipes his lips afterwards though for sanitary reasons.

For sure the type to go overboard when someone says they want honest advice. Then when they’re on the verge of tears and he’s made everything worse, he goes “that’s just me though, who am I to judge yk? take it with a grain of salt.”

Museum dates but he’s pointing at depictions of goddesses and saying, “that’s you.”

Will drop kick those annoying Sephora kids if you need a certain product that they’re going after.

Y’all are battling for who has more products, your bathroom so is huge but every time you move something’s always falling off the double vanity sink.

If you need an inhaler or an EpiPen or anything like that, he’ll always have one on him. when you need it, his reaction is so fast you almost can’t see it and he tries to hide how his hands shake slightly even if the attack you're dealing with is more minor.

You could tell him you hate coconut and when you go on your fancy little dates to 5 stars restaurants, if your plate has even the tiniest hint of coconut, he’s sending that back with the harshest glare on his face imaginable (“They asked for no pickles!” *Gunshots* vibes)

Gets jealous of fictional characters, you show the slightest interest in a man who’s literally not real and his eye nearly falls out from how much it twitches.

The possessive bf coded TikTok trends you’d make him do would go crazy though like the nails on his dick through his pants one, any princess treatment one, any one where you’re dancing and he has to cover you, “hey daddy” & other text ones.

Alarms every five minutes, not only for him but he wants to be awake at the same time as you for a bit before you have to go your separate ways during the day. (kisses your temple when you slump against him while you try to wake up)

“What’s up, Petal?”

“What’s up, Coryo?”

While he acts like he’s been doing you a favor all this time, he would get you that engagement ring that has a spike going through the finger bone in it, and he would get a matching one <3.

Double penetration with a dildo that’s a replica of his cock 😻😽

Closet bi (childhood crush on Sejanus, who btw has been eyeing you too much for his liking lately.)

Scars on his back from An Incident. shaved his head and dropped out of school for a bit but it wasn’t hard for his family to get him back in

Gives you the worst side eye when you ask him to play Roblox total drama island with you but when Sejanus offers, he’s galloping to his pc (he absolutely kills it, like he’s undefeated and he’s not afraid to bully whatever kids are in the game)

Vibes:

a/n: this is lowkey so cringe but i am free. i hate him (i'd tell him i love him on the first date.) will definitely do more with this verse but have this brainrot for now. hope you enjoyed anyway! btw i'll actually be opening comissions next month. so i'd really appreciate it if y'all would keep that in mind! talk to me about modern coryo or any version of coryo lol.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts

It's the day of the Fall in the Sherlock fandom...needless to say that today's prompt is fall...

The Luckiest Girl in the world (chapter 4)

Summary: Rosie starts to interact with her uncle in earnest, much to Sherlock and John's delight. Mycroft is not that amused...

Four Years Old

Shortly after our seaside visit, things were set in motion by the British Government, aka Mycroft Holmes. Papers were signed, and a few months before my fourth birthday, I was Sherlock’s legal daughter. My Papa. God, how I love him. Just as much as I love Dad. And the adoption came with more benefits. I got an uncle and two grandparents as well.

My uncle Myc, as I call him, which he wrinkled his nose at in the beginning, is a complex man. Like his younger brother, but also different. The walls around him are thicker and not as easily penetrable as Papa’s. Gaining access to Mycroft Holmes’s heart, is no easy feat. Only a handful of people have managed it, and I’m the last one in line. Walls can indeed fall.

Dad told me how Papa constantly bickered, argued and fought with his brother, but Dad knew there was love there. Uncle Myc did anything in his power to keep Papa safe, and later Dad and me.

When I started to really interact with my uncle, Papa apparently had the time of his life, because at the age of barely four, I had no idea who Mycroft Holmes really was, or what he was capable of. I just saw a pompous man, always dressed in a three-piece suit, and carrying an umbrella. The latter spurred my brain, not to mention my tongue, into action.

“Why do you always have that parasol with you?” I asked and pointed at his umbrella.

Papa rumbled and Dad chuckled. It was Papa who had told me the name of the item. 

“It’s an umbrella, Rosamund,” he said stiffly and glared daggers at his brother, fully knowing who had “taught” me the name.

I didn’t care what the damn thing was called, but stared stubbornly at him and waved a hand, as Papa used to do when he didn’t want to be troubled with trifles.

“Why?” I asked sternly, lifting my chin in challenge.

“Oh, John. That surely is the spitting image of what you looked like when you turned his offer down in that garage all those years ago,” I heard Papa say.

I had no idea what he was talking about, and didn’t bother asking, so I continued staring my uncle straight in the eyes, daring him to deny me an answer. 

“You got your stubbornness from your dad,” Papa always says.

Uncle Myc cleared his throat and sat down on the sofa, before he explained some nonsense, I didn’t believe for a second. How the British weather is unpredictable, that he sometimes needed it for support if his leg should, for some reason, give way. At that point Papa and Dad snorted in unison and I rolled my eyes. That got me a tiny hint of a smile. It probably reminded him of his brother when he was my age.

“When you’re old enough, I will take you to the shop that makes these, and let you choose your very own,” he offered in a tone that was supposed to be friendly, but his lack of training in that area, made it sound more like a threat.

***

“Did you see his face, John,” Papa laughed when everyone had left my birthday party.

Dad giggled and was almost unable to answer, clinging to Papa’s arm like it was the only thing preventing him from falling.

“I did! Please tell me he still got surveillance cameras in the flat,” Dad said breathlessly and looked up at Papa with a pleading expression.

Papa bent down and kissed his forehead, and whispered something I couldn’t discern. It clearly contained something sentimental, because Dad cupped Papa’s face and murmured “love you”, before they started laughing again.

The reason for this silly behaviour had everything to do with Nana’s gift. It was an umbrella. Light green, with yellow flowers, green plants, and a white bird with a large beak on the rim. That in itself, wasn’t what got my fathers into a fit of giggles, but rather my outburst after I’d thanked Nana for it.

“Look, uncle Myc! I got one too. Just like yours. “

Also available on AO3

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[ohwhataniight]

I'm stuck on your heart - Chapter 8

They spend Christmas day getting full with the sumptuous meal cooked by Sherlock’s mother. There is a pang in John’s chest as he remembers the Christmas of two years ago, making up with Mary in front of the fireplace, promising to be by her side, no matter what. He’s starting to heal. He’s found a way to cherish her memory while moving on. And Sherlock isn't exactly what moving on means, because it feels like there was no life before him, like there can be no life without him.

The thing is, he’s hungered for this - for them - for so long, he’s forgotten what it is like not to pine, not to ache, not to have his heart broken again and again. He remembers the times he almost lost Sherlock, the fall, his crater-hollow life the years that followed, Sherlock flatlining, Sherlock. He’s craved this for so long he doesn’t know how to approach it now that it’s finally here, how to give in.

After Rosie falls asleep, exhausted, on the lap of a very bewildered Mycroft, John excuses himself and heads to the bathroom. He can feel Sherlock’s eyes following him as he exits the living room.

John stares at his own reflection in the mirror. He looks positively knackered, a middle-aged father of a hyperactive toddler who’s certainly not getting any younger. He's spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning in his bed, replaying the brief moments he shared with Sherlock in the kitchen, dreading the fact that in a mayhem of Christmas carols, gifts exchanged, Rosie, phone calls and getting ready to visit the Holmses, they never got the chance to discuss anything.

He half-expects to meet Sherlock waiting for him outside the bathroom, but instead he’s met with the just as imposing although more frail figure of his father. “Mr. Holmes,” he grins. “Thank you for this wonderful day. Rosie really enjoys being with you.”

“And we love having her around,” Mr. Holmes returns the gentle smile. “May I have a word with you, John?”

“Oh, uh... ‘course”.

He follows the older man in a room of the mansion he hasn’t seen before. It is decorated with twinkling Christmas lights although obviously nobody lives here. The single bed is meticulously made, and the shelves are full of books - The Velveteen Rabbit, Dickens’ Complete Works, Chemistry textbooks, A Brief Introduction to Taxidermy - and trinkets - toy dinosaurs, stones of various colours and shapes, the plastic miniature of a human skeleton.

Sherlock’s childhood room.

Mr. Holmes motions at the chair in front of the desk, for John to take a seat. Sherlock’s father seems to prefer standing up. His long fingers (so similar to Sherlock’s) brush over the spines of the books. “You should take those, for Rosie,” he hums softly.

“Thanks. Although maybe not the Introduction to Taxidermy,” John chuckles.

Mr. Holmes laughs and shakes his head. “No. Not this one.” He turns to face John. “I know you’re her father, but she does remind me of Sherlock too, when he was younger.”

John huffs. “What do you mean? She’s his spitting image, inside and out, apart from the blond bit of course. You should see her when he plays Frozen on the violin."

“She’s the granddaughter we’ve always dreamed of. And you,” he moves to Sherlock’s bed, smoothens the duvet and sits on it. “You’re the family we’d always hoped he’d find.”

John swallows. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“He’s a sensitive kid. Our Mycroft too. They somehow decided they had to play it tough at some point, each in his own way. But I know my Sherlock, John. He’s loyal, doting.”

“I know, Mr. Holmes,” John exhales. “I see him with Rosie every day, he’s incredible...”

“And with you?”

John opens his mouth, then closes it again. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” he says eventually, and then mutters, “he’s my best”.

“He’s yours alright,” the older man smiles and nods. “I know that look on his face. I used to go around with that look when I met Violet. I know he’s found everything he’s been looking for. He’s whole, he’s happy. You’re the only one who can make him happy, John.”

For the first time in forever, John finds himself agreeing. Not only that, but also opening up about his feelings. To Sherlock’s father, of all people. “But... will it work?”

“If this doesn’t work, then nothing else will. You both went through hell, apart and together, and life has led you to this... this everything. You have everything,” he extends his hand and John gives his own. He’s surprised when it’s wrapped into both of Mr. Holmes’ hands, in a fatherly manner. “I know Mary is still so fresh, but please know that you are already part of this family, John, and if it happens, whenever it happens, it’ll make us the happiest people on earth to call you our son”.

Fresh tears prickle out of nowhere on the edge of John’s eyes (God he’s gotten soft). He swallows hard, and nods.

They stand up and walk to the door, but when they open it Sherlock is already waiting for them there.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Mr. Holmes says, and slides quickly between them and down the stairs.

Sherlock is smiling at John. “Did he call you his son?” he asks.

“He did.”

“He ships it so hard, as the cool kids tend to say.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He extends his arm, taking John’s hand into his own and leading him back into his childhood room. They both sit on Sherlock’s bed this time, side by side.

“Do you think she enjoyed her second Christmas?”

John chuckles. “Sherlock, she loved it, especially her View Master and your mother and all the amount of sugar we let her consume”.

“I want her to experience everything, and I want her to remember it”.

“You know memories are created anyway. You don’t have to micromanage them. As long as we try our best as parents, she’ll remember everything very fondly.”

Their fingers are still entwined, Sherlock’s thumb rubbing soft circles on John’s knuckles. Their eyes meet, the lights are twinkling inside Sherlock’s irises.

“We are good, aren’t we?”

John’s smile widens. “I’m good,” he corrects him. “You’re the best.”

The kiss is chaste and tastes of alcohol and hot chocolate. John also tastes Sherlock, the dew in his mouth, his heavy breath, gently at first, then with more urgency. He wraps his arms around Sherlock, throwing his fingers into the taller man’s hair. The detective moans softly, parting his lips and letting John in, pulling him back against the mattress, hands exploring, cheeks flushed, hearts thrumming like drums as they feel their hunger grow and spread like warm lava in the pits of their stomach.

They are interrupted by Mycroft, who excuses himself and mutters something about going to bleach his eyes.

Needless to say, the universe decides to tease them for a little bit longer.

John is willing to wait, even though a lifetime of this doesn't seem anywhere near long enough.

Chapter 9

[thebookishgaymer]

A Court of Ash and Shadow Chapter 1

Eris kept his cool gaze fixed on the male in front of him. That thing deep in his gut, that prowled under his skin and bore claws, and scales, and fangs, writhed at the sight of the smirk across Keir’s face. Eris tried to keep the vile actions of the male across from him from his mind, lest the thoughts have the beast within pressing at the walls of Eris’ skin. Lest it burst through and shred Keir to cindering ribbons. But that was not his kill to take. Keir’s life belonged solely to Morrigan, though he hoped she would let him throw a punch or two at her hateful father. Not that she would need the help.

Eris tried, and failed, to keep the image of a broken, beaten Morrigan lying on the crisp leaf-strewn ground of the Autumn court. How many nights had Eris relived those memories in his dreams only to wake up drenched in a cold sweat and run to the bathroom to deposit the contents of his stomach? He had long since lost count. That was nearly his breaking point. All his centuries of scheming and planning for a better world were nearly ruined by a female with a note spiked through her abdomen. The thought still made him queasy.

Eris brushed an unruly strand of his molten brown hair behind his delicately arched ear. He cast his face into a mask of bemused, cool boredom as Keir finished telling Eris of the developments in the Court of Nightmares since his last visit. He heard each word but wasn’t listening. News of two powerful bloodlines creating a mated pair piqued Eris’s interest, but it was ultimately inconsequential.

“I would like you to join me when I visit Velaris with some of my lords,” Keir said, doing some mix between sneering at and spitting out the name of the city of starlight. It was altogether a vile hideous expression, which matched Keir’s personality perfectly. Eris had long wondered if Keir wore a mask of vile cunning in the way that Rhysand and himself did. He had long cast that thought aside. The way the male grovelled before Amarantha and begged to warm her bed had merely been the final nail in the coffin.

“You’re planning to visit soon?” Eris asked, willing his face and voice to cool disinterest, as one might ask about the weather. “Why now?”

“My reasons are my own,” Keir said, a sadistic smirk pulling at his lips, “But my sources say that my sullied whore of daughter has found a lovely little tavern to frequent.”

Eris Tightened his lips to keep from baring his teeth but couldn’t contain the ember of flame that turned his amber eyes golden.

“Once again, I must apologize for how she spoiled her goods with that bastard-born lesser faerie,” Keir said. “Unless there’s some other reason that the mention of her causes such ire in your eyes, Eris.”

Eris willed disdain to his voice and prayed to the cauldron, the mother, and any of the forgotten gods who once wandered this world that Keir would see and hear distain for Mor, not for him. “I simply don’t enjoy being given spoiled goods. An honourable male would have killed the bitch rather than dumb her on a proper male.”

“Yet by whatever whim of the cauldron, the shadow singer found her before she died.” Keir mused. His brown eyes pinned Eris to his seat.

“Rhysand chose his spymaster well,” Eris said with a shrug. “You would know what methods he employs better than I do.”

“Perhaps,” Keir said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper, “But it’s awfully convenient that the shadow singer arrived at the border of Autumn rather urgently.” He began to drum his fingers on the table. “It was also rather convenient that Tamlin made it to his border with Autumn, just when and where Lucien crossed over.”

Eris let his power thread through his hair, turning it to shades of molten orange and red. He was the heir of Autumn and was more powerful than Keir. Perhaps he needed a reminder. “I don’t know that you’re implying Keir,” Eris said, his voice laced with the molten power of a freshly forged sun, “But I would advise you to choose your next words very, very carefully.” He raised a hand as if to inspect his nails, and flames sprung to life at his fingertips, growing to wreath his hand. “Fires can be so devastating underground, more so when the exits are so far away.”

Keir blanched as if finally remembering who he was talking with. Eris’s smirk was genuine as he spooled his magic back into himself, as his magic sank back into the well of power within his soul. The mountain shuddered, and Eris’s smirk grew as Keir shuddered. “It would seem that Rhysand has arrived at last. You should go greet him.” As Keir started for the exit, Eris checked the delicate brass watch he kept in his pocket. “And Keir, tell him that I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

Eris flashed a feral grin to the steward of the Hewn City as the blond-haired male left to greet the High Lord of Night.

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[venactricisfics]

Bucking Tradition: A Yellowstone Fanfic

Chapter Fifteen

“A girl could get used to this,” I murmured as I buried my face into Ryan’s chest. Dawn was peeking in through the window, a gentle reminder that our little fairytale was drawing to a close.

“I know, baby,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “But we better get back. I can’t have folks thinking I kidnapped you.”

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “I’ll just tell them I went along willingly. No Stockholm syndrome or anything like that,” I teased. “Next time you kidnap me, though, give me a heads-up so I can pack a toothbrush—and bring my good underwear.”

Ryan grinned and, with a playful tug, pulled my satin panties from beneath the sheet. “If these aren’t your good underwear, baby, then I’m looking forward to seeing what else you have.”

I wrinkled my nose in mock indignation and yanked them back from his grasp. “Give me those,” I said, laughing. “And tell me—where did you hide my bra?”

He pointed at the chair. I grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around myself as I moved over to retrieve my bra.

“You know, I’ve seen all of you before,” he teased, watching me struggle to cover up.

“Not in this lighting,” I retorted with a smirk. “And not all at once.”

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the desk—hair in disarray, makeup smeared, a raw reminder of the night's chaos.

“I need a shower,” I said, shooting him a look. “That’s not an invitation.”

He chuckled softly. “Wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Yeah, you were,” I retorted with a playful edge.

“Well… it might have crossed my mind,” he admitted. “Go ahead—I promise I’ll wait here.”

I slipped into the bathroom, feeling an odd mix of anxiety and resignation. I couldn’t understand why I was so self-conscious about him seeing me like this. After all, he’d seen me covered in dirt and mud before. So why did this feel different?

Perhaps it was because this time it wasn’t about work. Outside of the ranch duties, I rarely presented myself as the polished girl that everyone expected. Sure, I was attractive—I had good boobs and kept myself in shape for riding—but I never really made the effort to look or act like a girl off the saddle. And in this moment, I realized that the unvarnished version of me was just as real as any carefully curated image.

I stepped out of the shower and slipped back into my jeans, feeling a little more like myself—less exposed, less vulnerable.

“Alex,” Ryan called softly, tapping on the door. I opened it to let him in, and of course, even with bedhead and a sleepy glimmer in his eyes, he looked incredibly sexy. In his hand, he carried a package with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

“Thank you,” I said with a playful smile. “I’ll feel a lot better about kissing you if I don’t have morning breath.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his chest. “I was wondering what that was all about.”

I arched a brow. “Honeymoon phase over already?”

“If that means I get to watch you do your morning routine, then sure,” he replied with a mischievous glint.

I stepped away from his warmth, running my hands over his chest—still sprinkled with my body glitter. “You need a shower,” I teased.

Ryan smirked as he scooted past me toward the bathroom. “I thought you were branding me so those horny girls would stay away.”

I shot him a playful glare. “There aren’t any horny girls at the ranch. Unless you want to explain to my father why you’re wearing so much glitter.”

“Shower it is,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek before slipping behind the curtain. “You can join me if you want.”

I hesitated, then decided it was safer to stay here. I waited until I heard the water running, then swished and spit out my toothpaste, all the while watching him from the doorway, a mix of amusement and anticipation in my eyes.

I did the room a once over, making sure nothing was forgotten before we stepped out. Back to reality. 

“I’m buying you breakfast, cowboy,” I told him when we got to the truck. “None of that gentleman bullshit either.” I still let him open the door for me. 

“You’re getting real bossy, princess,” he glanced up at me with that smile of his, “too used to getting your way.” 

I never brought up finances with him, it was never an issue. But I knew what Dad paid the hands so I knew that Ryan had likely spent half a week’s wages taking me out. It didn’t seem fair to me. 

“Please, Ryan,” I looked over at him, “let me do this.”

“Alright, fine,” he relented. 

“Stopping at a drive-thru on the way doesn’t count,” I said to him as he eyed the nearest McDonalds. 

“I’m not picky, baby,” he responded. 

“I know you’re not, but I want to sit down somewhere,” I insisted, folding my arms as I gave him a look.

Ryan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a smirk. “Alright, princess, pick the place.”

I didn’t bother arguing about the nickname. It was easier to let him have it. Plus, the way he said it didn’t feel like an insult—it felt like a tease, one I wasn’t entirely opposed to.

I scanned the street as we drove, looking for a diner that seemed promising. The neon sign of a little mom-and-pop place caught my eye, boasting Best Pancakes in the County in flashing red letters.

“There,” I pointed. “That looks good.”

Ryan pulled into the lot, cutting the engine before glancing at me. “You do know this probably costs the same as McDonald's, right?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but at least I don’t have to eat out of a bag.”

He chuckled as he climbed out, making his way to my side of the truck to open my door. “I thought we weren’t doing the gentleman bullshit?”

I rolled my eyes but stepped out with a smirk. “I make exceptions.”

I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we stepped food inside. I suppose a wild night with a sexy cowboy drains all of your calories. The lady behind the counter motioned for us to take a seat at an empty table. 

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please, cream,” I told her as we slid into the open booth. 

He watched as I dumped a hefty amount of sugar and dumped three of those little cups of half-and-half into my warm cup.

“Do you even like coffee?” he chuckled. 

“Not everyone drinks it black with no soal in it,” I watched him take a sip straight from the cup. 

“You’re sweet enough, for me,” he grinned. “I don’t need any extra sugar.” 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that crept up my neck. “Smooth talker,” I muttered, stirring my coffee.

Ryan smirked, setting his cup down. “Just calling it like I see it.”

The waitress returned with a notepad in hand. “Y’all decide what you want?”

I glanced at the menu, even though I already knew. “Short stack with bacon, please.”

Ryan barely looked at the menu before ordering. “Same, but make it a full stack. And extra bacon.”

The waitress nodded, jotting it down before walking off. I leaned back in the booth, taking another sip of my coffee, watching Ryan across from me. His hair was still a little damp from the shower, his shirt slightly wrinkled. It suited him. Rugged, easygoing—like he hadn’t just turned my world upside down last night.

“So,” I started, tracing the rim of my cup with my finger, “where do we go from here?”

Ryan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous. “I mean… was this just a one-time thing? Or are we—” I waved a hand between us, “—something?”

His lips quirked, but his eyes were serious. “What do you want us to be?”

That was the real question, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure how to answer it. I hadn’t thought past last night—past finally having him the way I’d wanted for so long.

I took a breath, holding his gaze. “I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be nothing.”

Ryan reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. “Then it won’t be.”

—-

I relaxed a little when we got back to the ranch. Dad and Rip were already out dealing with the whole bear situation. Jamie finally made it home last night. Got in a fistfight with our father and was told to drop out of the race for Attorney General or leave the ranch.

Jamie left the ranch. 

Beth recounted the story to me with entirely too much glee. But I knew she had a strained relationship with Jamie even on their good days. 

“I wish you didn’t idolize him,” she said, “Jamie will always be a snake.” I guess maybe I saw something in Jamie she didn’t. I knew who my brother was. Maybe I was rooting for him a little to be what he wanted to be. 

“Sometimes it’s ok to want something other than what Dad wants,” I muttered. She wasn’t listening to me. 

Beth scoffed, lighting a cigarette as she leaned against the fence. “And sometimes, wanting something different just makes you blind to the truth.” She exhaled a slow stream of smoke, eyeing me like she was waiting for me to argue.

I didn’t. Not because I agreed with her, but because I was too damn tired to get into it. Jamie had made his choice, and so had Dad. None of it was my business—not really.

Beth studied me for a beat, then smirked. “You look like hell, by the way.”

“Thanks, Beth,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then she grinned like she’d just uncovered some dirty little secret. “Oh, wait. This isn’t about Jamie at all, is it? You’re all dreamy-eyed and distracted. Who was it?”

I frowned. “Who was what?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Who rocked your world last night, little sister?”

I felt the heat creep up my neck, but I played it cool, crossing my arms. “None of your damn business.”

Her laughter was sharp and knowing. “Oh, it’s my business now. Spill.”

I hesitated, but Beth had a way of seeing through the bullshit. And besides, if I didn’t tell her, she’d figure it out on her own.

“Ryan.”

Beth’s smirk widened. “Well, well. Took you long enough.”

I blinked. “You knew?”

“Please,” she flicked her cigarette away, “you’ve been looking at that man like he hung the damn stars since you were sixteen.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she wasn’t wrong.

Beth looped an arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

I sighed. “What?”

She met my gaze, all the teasing gone from her expression. “Don’t let him break your heart, again.”

I swallowed hard, because I wasn’t sure how to promise that.

“I’m gonna go get changed before Dad gets back,” I said then walked inside and up the steps. 

I looked at myself in the mirror, did I look that much different than I had the day before? I wasn’t exactly a virgin before Ryan. And he and I had fucked each other in almost every corner of the ranch at least once. But something about last night had shifted things—it wasn’t just a stolen moment or reckless indulgence. It meant something.

Shaking the thought away, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering haze of the night. After changing into fresh clothes, I buttoned up my shirt and stepped out of my room—only to collide with a man I didn’t recognize.

He was dressed in sweats and a tank top, looking like he’d barely survived whatever the hell last night had thrown at him. Before I could ask who the hell he was, he muttered one word.

“Beth.”

“She’s probably still outside,” I replied, watching him trudge down the steps like every movement was a personal betrayal.

Curiosity piqued, I followed him downstairs and out the kitchen door to the porch—just in time to watch him stagger to the edge and violently empty the contents of his stomach into my grandmother’s rosebush.

Dad’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “Who the fuck are you?”

I lifted my coffee mug to my lips, watching the scene unfold. “I don’t fucking know. He’s not with me.” I gestured toward the hungover mess bent over the flowers. “Pretty sure he’s Beth’s new boyfriend.”

“God, no,” Beth’s voice came from behind me as she sauntered outside. “That’s Jason. My assistant.”

I shot her a look. “Your assistant is puking in the roses.”

She took one glance at him and shrugged. “Guess he can’t handle his whiskey.”

Dad muttered something under his breath and shook his head, while Jason groaned and wiped his mouth.

Beth smirked and patted his back—maybe a little too hard. “Welcome to the ranch, city boy.”

Jason grumbled something unintelligible before retreating inside, no doubt heading for a shower to wash off both the whiskey and his humiliation.

Dad exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before turning his attention to me. “How was the rodeo, sweetheart?”

I blinked. He never asked me about the rodeo.

“It was good,” I said carefully. “Ran late, so I stayed the night in Bozeman.” It's not technically a lie—just an omission of the more interesting details. The technicalities were starting to pile up. 

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.” Then his expression hardened. “I’m heading out. And I don’t want you trying to run interference for your brother. Got it? He fucked up, and he’s gonna deal with the consequences.”

“Yes, sir.” There was no arguing with John Dutton when his mind was made up. Not for me, not for anyone.

Jamie had made a mess of the whole damn situation. All he had to do was pick up the phone. I knew there had to be a reason—even if it didn’t excuse it.

“Come on, little sister,” Beth’s voice cut through my thoughts as she stepped outside, Jason trailing behind her looking half alive. “We’re going on a little field trip.”

“What? Where?” I stood up, falling in step behind her. Beth never involved me in her business. Maybe she thought I was too naïve. Or maybe she just assumed I wasn’t interested in anything beyond my horse. That second part was mostly true.

“Do not put your dirty boots on my leather seats,” she warned as I slid into the passenger seat of her Bentley.

“I wasn’t going to,” I muttered, settling into the plush seat. The car suited Beth—sleek, stylish, powerful. Everything she was and I wasn’t. I drove a truck. It was practical. And covered in mud on most days.

“So,” Beth smirked as she pulled onto the road, “how was he?”

I blinked. “Did you really drag me along just to ask about my sex life?”

“You have one now, so yeah, we get to talk about it.” She pressed her foot harder on the gas. “I used to tell you about mine.”

“In excruciating detail,” I groaned.

“If I didn’t, who the hell else was gonna teach you?” Beth shot me a look. “Our brothers still think you’re too sweet to fuck around. But I know better.”

I scoffed. “I don’t exactly fuck around, Beth.”

“I know, I know,” she rolled her eyes. “You only have eyes for one cowboy.”

A small smile tugged at my lips, but I glanced out the window as the fields of the ranch rolled past. “Lee was actually pretty helpful in that department,” I admitted. We didn’t talk about Lee much.

Beth was quiet for a beat. “I wish I had gone to Lee for help when I needed it…” she trailed off, her voice softer than usual.

There was more to the story but I didn’t press. Beth was always closed-lipped. If she wanted me to know, I’d already know. 

My brow furrowed when Beth pulled to a stop right outside Jamie’s campaign office.

“Why are we here?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“To take him down several notches,” she smirked, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on, let’s see what our brother thinks is more important than his family.”

I sighed, shaking my head, but still followed behind her. Someone had to at least try to keep her from making a scene. Or, at the very least, minimize the damage.

The moment we stepped inside, every eye in the room was on Beth. That wasn’t unusual. Beth had a way of commanding attention, like a flame drawing in helpless moths—only for them to end up burned. She walked with purpose, cutting through the room like a shark scenting blood, while I scanned the space for Jamie. He needed a warning, even a small one. I was angry at him, furious even, for how he had hurt our father, how he had chosen himself over all of us. But I also understood why he had done it. And I knew there was still a way back—if only Jamie would take it.

We pushed through to the back, where he sat at a table, deep in conversation with his assistant. Beth leaned casually against the doorframe, smirking like she had just caught them in the act. My attention went straight to Jamie’s face. The bruising along his cheekbone was stark against his pale skin, and I instinctively took a step forward.

“Don’t do it,” Beth muttered, throwing an arm out to stop me.

The woman sitting with Jamie turned to us with an expression that made my stomach turn. Smug. Satisfied. Like she had just won something valuable. So, this was her—the problem. She didn’t care about Jamie, not really. She wanted his power.

Beth saw it too. “I’m sure she’ll fulfill those pegging fantasies of yours with those hips,” she sneered at Jamie, her voice dripping with condescension.

Jamie tensed, his lips pressing into a firm line. I ignored Beth’s taunts and took a softer approach. “Jamie,” I said gently, “just come back. Work it out with Dad.”

His jaw clenched. “No. This is what I want,” he said with conviction. “I’m not gonna let him take it from me. I won’t let him.”

Beth didn’t miss a beat, shifting her attention to the woman beside him. “When he lets you down, sweetheart—and we all know how soft he really is—you can keep him.”

“He won’t let me down,” the woman replied, her voice so thick with smug confidence that it made my skin crawl.

Beth scoffed, turning her full focus back to Jamie. “We’re doing a little restructuring. You’re being replaced as Chief Counsel.” She held out her hand expectantly. “I’m gonna need your credit card, your bank card, and the keys to your truck.”

Jamie’s eyes darkened, his anger barely restrained. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting for this family,” he spat, “and now I’m just not a part of it anymore?”

“You can’t unmake family, Jamie,” Beth said smoothly, fingers wiggling in the air, “but you can take their gold card.”

For a long moment, he just stared at her, his face unreadable. Then, with a sharp exhale, he pulled out his wallet, yanked out a card, and tossed it onto the table. His truck keys followed. Beth snatched them up and, without hesitation, threw them at me.

Jamie’s eyes met mine. Don’t look at me like that, I wanted to tell him. I didn’t ask for this. I shook my head, hoping he would see the truth in it. I am not part of this plan.

Beth turned on her heel and sauntered toward the door. Before I could follow, she shot me a pointed look. “Do not give him any money, Alex.”

Jamie didn’t say a word, just clenched his jaw and looked away.

I gave him an apologetic glance before turning and following my sister out the door.

—

I hated to admit it, but Jamie’s truck drove a hell of a lot smoother than mine. Not that I had any intention of keeping it. But I couldn't ignore the fact that it was decked out with all the bells and whistles—the latest GPS navigation system, satellite radio, and leather seats so damn soft they felt like they belonged in a luxury car, not a ranch truck.

Pulling into the driveway, I shifted into park and climbed out, giving the truck another once-over. Shaking my head, I let out a scoff. This thing has never hauled a damn thing in its life. It was pristine, barely a speck of dust on it, and I couldn’t picture it with a trailer loaded full of horses rattling behind it.

It didn’t belong on the ranch.

And Jamie… maybe he didn’t either.

He made his choice, and it wasn’t us. It was her. That smug, conniving bitch. Would I have felt this way about any woman my brothers dated? No—I liked Monica well enough. So it had to be her. Something about the way she looked at us, like she’d already won some twisted game we didn’t even know we were playing.

I started toward the house, then stopped. I already knew what waited for me behind those doors—more drama, more tension, more of Dad’s cold, unwavering judgment. And right now, I wasn’t ready for it.

I needed a moment to breathe. To shake off the weight of everything before I let it bury me.

So I turned on my heel and headed for the bunkhouse.

It had always been a sanctuary, a place where I could let my guard down, even just a little. But now… now, it was something else entirely.

The guys were gathered around the table, a deck of cards worn at the edges between them, trading jabs and testing each other's patience to see who would break first. It was their ritual, their unspoken tradition.

For a brief second, I hesitated in the doorway.

I wasn’t one of the guys anymore. Not really. I’d grown up in this bunkhouse, but things had shifted. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Ryan or just because I’d changed. Maybe both.

Colby must’ve seen the doubt flicker across my face because, without missing a beat, he shoved a cold beer into my hand and kicked out an empty chair at the table. Sit down. Stay. My welcome here hadn’t worn out just yet.

So I plopped down, letting the familiar energy of the room settle around me.

“Is he bluffing?” Colby asked, eyeing Ryan across the table. “He’s lookin’ smug as hell and not crackin’.”

I grinned, taking a sip of my beer. “I’m not giving away any trade secrets.”

“Told you she wouldn’t rat me out,” Ryan said, all cocky, before draping his arm around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to my temple. His cards shifted slightly in his hand, and I caught a glimpse of them.

I glanced at Colby and gave him a subtle thumbs-up.

Ryan was definitely bluffing.

“How you liking that fancy new hat, Jimmy?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“I done fucked up and put it on the bed. You know how to undo that?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

I smirked, taking a slow sip of my beer. “I don’t know, lots of sage? Never actually knew a cowboy dumb enough to do it before.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Jimmy grumbled, sinking further into his seat.

“Don’t worry,” I added with a teasing grin. “I can’t see how your luck could get much worse. You fall off your horse every damn day.”

“Twice on Thursdays,” Jake chimed in, shaking his head. “I fold. I can’t tell if he’s bluffin’, and I’m too broke to find out.”

“I’m all in,” Colby announced, tossing a bill into the growing pot in the center of the table.

Ryan stayed stone-faced as the rest of the guys hesitated, trying to read him.

“Turn your cards over, boys,” Lloyd finally said, his gruff voice laced with amusement.

Ryan smirked as he laid his cards down, but the table went silent when Jimmy revealed his hand.

“Son of a bitch,” Ryan muttered.

Lloyd chuckled, slapping Jimmy on the back. “Looks like your luck’s turnin’ around, kid.”

Jimmy grinned, looking down at his winnings like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. Maybe that cursed hat wasn’t so cursed after all.

The table went dead silent when the bunkhouse door swung open. Rip walked in, a woman at his side. She had a quiet confidence about her, the kind that said she didn’t take shit from anyone. Her sharp gaze swept the room, sizing up the men like she was the one deciding if they belonged here.

“This here is Avery,” Rip said. “She’s the new groomer. Y’all are gonna treat her like any other cowboy, that clear?”

The guys nodded, but it was obvious Rip might as well have left a rattlesnake in the room. They looked between each other, waiting until Rip left before their jaws hit the floor.

I wasn’t the type to get threatened by other women, but I had to admit, if the boys hadn’t looked so damn slack-jawed, I might have been.

“Which bunk is free?” she asked, all business.

Ryan pointed toward the corner. “Over there.”

“Pisser?”

Jake nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Shower’s there too.”

Colby, never one to keep his mouth shut, squinted at her. “Didn’t you used to work at the strip—”

Ryan cut him off with a sharp look.

Avery, unfazed, smirked. “Yeah.”

She strode over to her bunk, unfurling a bedroll like she’d been here all along. The guys, like idiots, got up to watch her.

She huffed, shaking her head. “Might as well get this over with.”

Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her jeans, shimmied them down her hips, and stood there in nothing but her underwear.

“If I wake up in the middle of the night to one of you assholes standing over me beating off,” she said, completely unfazed, “I’ll cut it off.”

The stunned silence that followed was delicious.

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but as soon as the bathroom door shut behind her, I couldn’t help myself.

Ryan glanced at me, then toward the closed door. “That don’t bother you?”

“Not in the slightest,” I grinned, taking a sip of my beer.

“You want in on this hand, baby?” Ryan asked, shuffling the deck as the guys gathered around the table for another round.

“Sure, deal me in,” I said, pulling a wad of bills from my pocket and tossing it into the pot. The weight of the cash made a satisfying thud against the table, drawing a few raised brows from the others.

Avery emerged from the shower, fresh-faced and wearing a loose-fitting tank and sweats. She pulled up a stool beside me, running a towel through her damp hair.

“You a hand too?” she asked, eyeing me with curiosity.

“Not exactly,” I replied, watching as Ryan dealt the cards.

“She’s the boss’s daughter,” Jake cut in before I could say more, shooting Avery a knowing look. “But she ropes and rides as good as any of us.”

“Better than most of you,” Lloyd added, smirking as he looked at his cards.

“Damn right,” I said, picking up my cards.

Avery let out a low chuckle, leaning back on her stool. “Didn’t peg you for the type that liked getting your hands dirty.”

I arched a brow. “You spend enough time here, you’ll learn real fast—I don’t just sit pretty on the porch.”

She gave me an appraising nod, then looked at Ryan. “So, cowboy, how bad you gonna let your girl take your money?”

Ryan grinned, draping an arm across the back of my chair. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

I smirked and tossed a few more bills into the pot. “And it won’t be the last.”

The table erupted with laughter as the game went on, the stakes rising right along with the tension.

 “Who’s turn is it anyway?” Ryan asked. 

“Pretty sure it’s your turn like always,” Colby said. 

“I think he’s trying to focus,” I gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. 

“Between the two of you,” Ryan eyed between me and Avery, “you’re bleeding me dry and somehow I kind of like it.” 

The bunkhouse went quiet again when the door swung open again. This time my brother, Kayce, came walking through. 

“Someone point me to an empty bunk,” he said. His voice was cold. Kayce strode over and climbed up in the bunk. 

“Come on, let’s go again, though I might need a small loan,” Ryan chuckled. 

I smirked, sliding my cash in front of him as I stood. “Don’t lose it all in one go, cowboy.”

Ryan gave me a wink. “No promises.”

I walked over to where Kayce laid. Staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers he was looking for.

I pulled a stool over and sat beside him, resting my elbows on my knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

His jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed whatever was on his mind. “No.”

I sighed. “Alright.”

Silence stretched between us, the only sounds in the room coming from the poker game continuing at the table. Ryan was laughing at something Avery said, and Colby grumbled about his bad luck.

Kayce finally turned his head toward me. “Dad kick you out here?”

I scoffed. “No, I just needed a break.” I tilted my head. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

His eyes darkened. “Not tonight.”

I nodded, understanding. Sometimes, words didn’t come easy. Sometimes, you just needed someone to sit with you in the silence.

“Alright,” I said again, reaching out to squeeze his arm before standing up. “You know where to find me.”

Kayce was never the brother I would push for answers. He would always tell me in his own time, or I’d just know what was wrong. So I left him with his thoughts. 

“I love you,” I told him as I turned to walk back to the group. 

“I know you do,” Kayce responded, “Love you too.”

“Awe,” Colby laughed as I made it back to the table, “that was truly a heartfelt moment. Hallmark will be calling to write one of those movies about it.” 

“Shut up,” I gave him a playful nudge. “How much of my money did you lose?” I asked Ryan as I sat back down beside him. 

Ryan had the decency to at least look a little sheepish as he glanced at the dwindling stack of cash in front of him. He scratched the back of his neck, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, sweetheart,” he drawled, “depends on how you define ‘lose.’”

I raised a brow. “If it’s not in your pile, I’d say that counts as lost.”

Colby chuckled. “He put up a good fight, though. Even bluffed his way through a couple of hands. But in the end—” he reached out and pulled the pot toward himself with a triumphant grin— “luck just wasn’t on his side.”

Ryan groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I swear, I was winning when you weren’t looking.”

Avery smirked. “That’s cute. Keep telling yourself that, Ryan.”

I laughed, nudging Ryan’s knee with mine. “I guess I’ll have to start charging interest if you plan on losing any more of my money.”

Ryan turned to me, flashing that slow, charming grin of his. “Or I could just win it all back in the next round.”

Colby snorted. “Now that’s wishful thinking.”

I shook my head, amused. “Alright, deal me in. Let’s see if I can salvage what’s left of my investment.”

Lloyd shuffled the deck, handing out the cards as the game picked up again. I could still feel Kayce’s presence in the corner, his silence heavy, but I knew he’d talk when he was ready.

For now, I let myself enjoy the moment—the laughter, the friendly jabs, and the easy warmth of Ryan’s arm brushing against mine. The bunkhouse had always been my escape, but now, it was starting to feel a little more like home.

"You staying?" Ryan asked as the night wound down, his voice low and easy.

"Do you want me to stay?" I arched a brow, a teasing lilt in my voice. "But just so we're clear—I’m not having sex with you while my brother is across the room."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Didn’t expect you to. Just like having you in my arms when I sleep."

The sincerity in his voice softened me, made it impossible to say no. I pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his jaw. "Well, when you put it like that… how can I refuse?"

With a knowing smirk, he reached into his chest and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants, handing them to me without a word. The warmth of his fingers brushed against mine, a silent invitation. Ryan always had a way of making the simplest things feel intimate—like handing me something to wear was just another way of pulling me closer to him.

“Don’t fall asleep before I get back,” I teased, already making my way toward the bathroom.

He smirked. “No promises.”

That sent a little shiver down my spine, but I didn’t let him see it. Instead, I just shook my head and disappeared into the bathroom, peeling off my jeans and shirt before slipping into the well-worn softness of his t-shirt and sweats. They were loose, comfortable, and smelled like him—like cedar, leather, and the faintest hint of sweat from a long day’s work.

By the time I came back, the bunkhouse had settled down. The poker game had ended, and most of the guys were either passed out in their bunks or quietly talking amongst themselves. Kayce still hadn’t moved from where he lay, his back to the room, lost in his own world.

Ryan was already stretched out in his bunk, arms folded behind his head, watching me with that lazy smile of his. He lifted the blanket in invitation. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

I didn’t hesitate. Climbing in beside him, I nestled against his side, my head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around me, warm and solid, pulling me close like he never wanted to let go.

“This alright?” he murmured against my hair.

I sighed, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm me. “Yeah. This is perfect.”

And for the first time that day, I actually meant it.

[bharv]

WIP Wednesday

It’s that time again! I’ve not exactly written anything entirely new, but the modern AU has had a bit of attention…

“Oh Manva, you didn’t! Number one rule. So important it goes without saying. You don’t fuck them, my sweet.”

Manva looks down at her rapidly cooling pancakes, the syrup and butter running together in a way that makes her stomach flip. Orin has her bleached hair in a neat fishtail braid, and looks enviably put together given she too is wearing last night’s dress. She was late, of course, and Manva had ordered to make sure she could keep the table, nerves biting her at the idea that she might not turn up at all.

She lifts her fork to gently carve at the edge of her meal. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, him, apparently.”

“Orin.”

“Sorry. Well. Is he fit at least? Do you have a picture?”

“I don’t-”

“Oh yes, I forgot. You’re in the bloody stone ages with that brick of a phone of yours. Give me a name, I’ll look.” She pulls out a great slab with six separate cameras on the back. “Or do you not know it?”

“Enver Gortash,” Manva says quietly, feeling like she’s some kind of traitor for even saying it. “Though I don’t think he does any social media or-”

“Found him! Enver Gortash at Tatler Little Black Book. God he’s far too old to be there, must have been window shopping.”

She flips her phone over and the garish bright screen shows Enver, hand on the small of the back of an impossibly waifish blonde. He is dressed in black as usual, but his hair is pushed back, his stubble short.

“The girl looks a bit like you,” Manva tells Orin as the image is pulled away again, taking a sip of her tea to try and settle her stomach. Orin’s face lights up.

“Oh wow, do you think so? That’s Amarita StJohn, she’s ever so thin, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.”

Orin really is every inch that sort of beauty, just as her own mother had been. Helena was a model when their father had met her, barely months after the divorce papers were signed by her own mother. Whereas her own mother had been talked into having children, to taking the career break that ended her career entirely, there was no question what Helena had wanted. Orin was born when she was barely three years old, and marriage came as soon as she was able to fit into the dress she had wanted for the spread in Hello. She was the spitting image of her mother in almost every way; just as beautiful, just as blonde and slender, tall and yet delicate looking.

Still, there is something of their father in her. The same pale eyes. The same sharp edge to her toothy smile.

Orin reaches a beautifully manicured hand across the table and sighs. “Oh darling. I’m sorry. Shall we kill him?”

That makes Manva laugh at least, the broad smile on her sister’s face impossible not to mirror. “No, no I don’t think we need to kill him. I’m fine.”

“Well if you change your mind. You’re my blood. My kin. And if we have to, well, we have to. Fuck him.”

“He’s not that bad, honestly.”

“Oh no. None of that. You had an agreement, and he violated that agreement. That’s not okay.”

“No. You’re right.”

“And you’re sad, and that’s worse. So I'll tell you what.” She reaches into her purse and rifles through a set of cards, pulling one out triumphantly. “Today we are going to have a lovely day courtesy of one Peter Marks. We’re going to get you fresh clothes, a topped up oyster card, a massage…”

“Won’t he mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be delighted. Pigs, all of them Manva. They know it. You just have to remind them of it, every time.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye "Ma" Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter Three: Thermostatic System

Jason wore Willis’ other coat while walking to the home improvement store. “I’ll give you a cut of my check for helping out on this job. Okay?” Willis replied as he held Jason’s hand. The snow let up as they trudged through the remaining thick Gotham slush. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Do you think Ms. Cobb is pretty?” Jason asked. Willis stopped in his tracks. “I think she likes you.”

Willis kissed the top of Jason’s head. “It’s not that simple, Kid. What’s all this about anyway? Do you think I’m lonely?” Willis asked. Jason tugged his father along. “I know it’s cold, but it’s a valid question.”

Jason squeezed his hand. “Are you lonely?” Jason asked.

“Nope. I’ve got everything I need right here,” Willis smiled. Jason frowned.

“What if she wanted to go on a date with you?” Jason asked innocently. Willis chuckled.

“Jason, she’s your teacher. That’s complicated,” Willis explained, “I want to be your dad right now. I don’t need anybody but you.”

“She won’t be my teacher next year,” Jason mumbled. Willis frowned.

Willis stopped once more. “You want a mom, don’t you?” Willis asked. Jason looked down at their feet. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t be upset if you tell me the truth.”

“It’s not going to be the same. I know it won’t, but—.”

“I’ll write your—. I’ll write Sheila, okay? Maybe she’ll come and see you. I won’t promise Sheila will because it’s been a while. Don’t get your hopes up because I haven’t written her since you were two years old,” Willis interrupted. Jason’s eyes lit up. “And before you ask, no. Your mom and I aren’t getting back together. I want to write her because you should see her. Sheila lives out of the country, so she might not get the letter for a week or two.”

“Where? Can I write her something, too?” Jason asked. “What’s she like? Do I look like her at all?” Willis nodded.

“Spitting image of your ma. And yeah, Jason, I’m sure she’d probably answer a letter from you over a letter from me any day. Also, the last thing I heard, she was in Ethiopia,” Willis answered, “You smile like her.”

“I do?” Jason asked. Willis pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled a photograph from behind Jason’s picture. “You can have it.”

Jason held the picture in his hands, staring at the picture of the blonde woman holding him in her arms. Jason didn’t move or speak. Willis picked him up, carrying Jason over his shoulder as he stared at his mother’s photo. In a sweet, simple gesture, Willis rubbed his son’s back. “I wouldn’t trade you for the world,” Willis whispered, “Now, are you still up to help me install the new window at Ms. Cobb’s?” Jason made a soft noise.

“Dad?” Jason whispered.

The light changed, allowing Willis to cross the street. “What’s up, Pete?” Willis asked.

“What if I write her and she doesn’t like me?” Jason questioned.

“It’d be her loss. You’re the best kid ever,” Willis complimented.

The store seemed mostly empty. “Have you ever put a window in before?” Jason questioned. Willis nodded.

“I used to do stuff like this a lot. Maybe one day, when we get on our feet, I’ll be able to move us out to the countryside and build our own house from the ground up,” Willis suggested.

Jason smiled. “Like cowboys?” Jason asked.

“Yup. But we’d be cool cowboys with a muscle car and take road trips to California,” Willis replied, “Remind me to buy stamps at the store later on.” Jason patted Willis’ shoulder, letting Willis set him down.

Once they crossed the parking lot, Willis and Jason entered the store. Willis stuffed his hat in his jacket pocket. The store was much larger than Jason had imagined. He looked around at the signs in the store. Jason stood on his tiptoes. “You can look around, but I need the measurements from your pocket,” Willis replied. He reached into Jason’s coat pocket and patted Jason’s cheek. “It’s alright. Meet me over by the windows later.”

Jason nodded, separating from his father to look around at bathroom fixtures. “The thermostatic shower system is expensive, but it’s pretty cool,” the man in the aisle noted. Jason looked up at him and turned to walk away. “Sorry, you just-. You looked familiar.”

Jason stopped and stared at the white-haired man. “What’s a thermostatic system?” Jason asked.

“Well, it’s all about the temperature control. A manual uses a mixture of hot and cold water, while a thermostatic system has a pre-set temp. So, say it’s a frosty day like today. A manual system wouldn’t adjust for that, while a thermostatic system would take note of how frosty it is outside to maintain its set temperature,” he explained. Jason’s eyes widened. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Are you a plumber?” Jason asked.

“I’m a bathroom fitter. I take people’s bathroom designs, and I install everything. I’ve put in everything from saunas to rain showerheads. Sometimes I come in here to check out whatever cool new fixtures they have,” the man replied, “I used to do this with my son when he was little.”

Jason nodded. “I’m here with my dad. He’s going to teach me to replace a window,” Jason smiled. The man nodded.

“Pete, you’ve got to see-.” Willis stopped in his tracks and yanked Jason away from the older man. “Go stand by the basket.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Jason asked as he walked toward the end of the aisle.

“Billy, this—. Is this your son?” the man questioned. Jason stopped walking and grabbed his father’s hand. “You named him Peter?”

“I don’t have the time to do this right now, Dad—.”

“Grandpa?” Jason asked.

Willis scowled at the man as he hid Jason behind his back. “Billy, I’m sorry. You know I am. I’ll always regret that I couldn’t take you with me,” the man apologized, “He’s twelve… Isn’t he?”

“Yeah… So?” Willis replied.

Jason peeked around Willis’ side. “I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t know he was yours, Billy. We were only talking about the bathroom fixtures. That’s all,” the man explained.

Willis softened. “Jason, this is your grandpa, Pete. I um—. I’ve got to get a basket. I found the single-hung window, and I’m going to see if I can find some caulk. Uh—. Dad, you can talk to Jason until I come to get him. If that’s alright with Jason, of course,” Willis offered.

Jason nodded. “Dad, are you sure?” Jason asked. Willis nodded.

“My issues with him aren’t yours. It’s okay. Don’t take him anywhere outside of the store, Dad,” Willis commanded before leaving Jason with Pete.

Jason reached forward and shook Willis’ hand. “Nice to meet you, Grandpa Pete,” Jason whispered.

“Nice to meet you, Jason. So, what grade are you in? Twelve is junior high, right?” Pete asked.

Jason nodded. “What was Dad like as a kid?” Jason questioned.

“He was painfully shy, always off by himself fixing things. Billy was the sweetest one of our children—.”

“Dad’s not an only child?” Jason interrupted. Pete chuckled, shaking his head as he reached to mess up Jason’s hair. He stopped himself when he realized Jason was serious.

“He didn’t tell you about your uncles?” Pete questioned. “Well, they grew up—. Billy wasn’t like his brothers. He was a dreamer and a tinkerer. Sensitive.”

“Dad? Sensitive?” Jason scoffed without meaning to. “I mean—.”

“No, it’s okay. Billy had to grow up rough, and that was my fault,” Pete replied. Jason frowned. “He’s raising you on his own, isn’t he?” Jason nodded. “What’s it like having him as your father?”

“He doesn’t yell anymore—. I don’t think he does. He hasn’t since I’ve gone home with him. It’s only been—. Dad is the most talented guy I know. He can do anything,” Jason answered.

Pete smiled, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Hey, Jason, this is my card. If you ever want to call me and talk—. Tell your dad you have it.”

[house-strong]

༄࿔ unbent and unbroken

summary ; drabble requested by anon as part of my 1k follower celebration.

“Naz (Urdu) - assurance/pride in knowing that the other’s love is unconditional and unshakable with Jace ❤️”

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader

notes ; au where visenya lives and nyra ends up as queen AND has all six children living, because that’s my favorite trope 🧡 slight warning because jacaerys is a certified lover boy and this made ME shy writing it,, it’s also currently 1am so very obviously unrevised sorry lads

all young lords from across the country had flocked to king’s landing to court the princess visenya targaryen. queen rhaenyra, first of her name, decreed that visenya would choose her own suitor – the same luxury her father had granted her all those years ago. these courtships lasted almost a month and jacaerys was quickly tiring of the constant attention.

his mother, somehow, persuaded him to stay when he was threatening to leave a fortnight in to the occasion. she told him that he was the prince of dragonstone and crowned heir to the iron throne, and it was one of his duties to see his only sister off.

to share his agony, he dragged you, his betrothed, with him to kings landing. it wasn’t much so dragging, per se, you loved celebrations; the music, the attire, the food. despite being promised to the heir of the iron throne, lords from across the lands always found some way to flirt with you, whisking you away from your handsome prince.

instead of being your knight in shining armor, jacaerys would grin and watch the lords take you away. he never paid any mind. no jealousy, no spite, or sour looks. he was absolutely confident in your faithfulness. despite not being married just yet, you and jacaerys shared an indestructible bond – one that he put his all in. when alone, you two would gossip about what the lords would willingly tell you. jacaerys thought it was hilarious how much trust they had put in you within mere hours.

his attention is torn away from the conversation he was having with his mother. he knows it’s disrespectful, especially in front of crowds, to not be listening to his queen mother, but he didn’t care. instead, a smile spreads his lips open like the way a crowd does when royalty approaches. he’s watching you carefully, his stomach twisting in knots, doing flips, somersaults, as he watches you toss your head back and laugh – it’s loud, boisterous, and undoubtedly you.

no envy, no anger – only bliss. he’s ready to chuckle himself as if he heard what you were laughing about, but the touch on his shoulder brings him back to the present. he turns to his mother, mouth slack as he realizes his disrespect. he’s ready to apologize, but the soft look on his mother’s face dissuades him.

“you’re not worried?” she asks, following where his gaze had once gone. the queen is eyeing you and surprisingly, a smile hugs her right cheek.

his attention returns to you and he shakes his head, dark strands of hair bouncing with volume, “not at all. look at her, she’s marvelous, isn’t she?”

queen rhaenyra’s eyes return to jacaerys, where she watches him continue to smile absentmindedly at the sight of you conversing with other lords. he reminds her so much of her former lover; like a spitting image.

the same devotion jacaerys bears for you is something she’s envious of – it was something she herself had all those years ago.

“she returns to me, without fail, every night. they can laugh with her all they want, but she’s mine,” jacaerys continues, hand settling on the loop of his belt, “and i am hers.”

the words make thoughts become real and he feels pride bloat in his chest. tenderness, sincerity, and unconditional, irrevocable love floods his being when he fully understands that he’s off the deep end. he’s infatuated, so desperately in love with you. you are to jacaerys as wine is to a drunkard – he wants to drown himself in you and keep you by his side, his cup never emptying.

feeling a hard stare that’s almost burning holes into your skull, you turn your head and meet jacaerys’ distracted gaze. your smile only seems to broaden and the prince feels himself swoon. he’s so lucky, lucky in the fact he’s found love doing his duty, and blessed that it’s you. he gives you an equally big grin, his teeth poking out beneath his pink lips.

he’s perfectly imperfect and you’re beautifully crafted by the gods themselves.

you give him a bashful wave, one that he returns smoothly. he can hear his mom giggling beside him, but he doesn’t care. lords and lady’s can call him names, his uncles can call him a lovesick fool, but he’d rather be that with you by his side than anything else.

you’re both staring at each other now, each gaze soft and full of unwavering adoration.

he notices that your mouth moves in silent words.

he’s sure it’s saying, ‘i love you.’

jacaerys bites his lip to try and conceal the wicked grin that’s eating at his cheeks – a harsh fatigue beginning to settle under the flesh. he waits a few moments before he mouths the same exact phrase back to you.

“excuse me, your grace,” he moves to give his mother a chaste kiss on the cheek. he dips his head in respect before moving away, making a beeline towards where you were. he finally reaches you, smiling at the other lords, “pardon me, my lords, but my betrothed is needed elsewhere.”

the lords mutter words of ‘my prince’, ‘my lady’, and perhaps a goodbye was thrown in. jacaerys doesn’t pay mind to it, for he slips his hand into yours and pulls you into his side, leading you away from the crowd.

you giggle, “i’m needed elsewhere, am i?”

jacaerys shoots you a look in the corner of his eye; he was never a good liar.

“yes, your handsome and dashing, young prince needs you.”

“handsome and dashing, hm? let me know when you see him.” you tease.

it’s jacaerys’ turn to laugh and he gently pinches you through your dress, you jump at the action.

“maybe i should just return you to the lords over there?” his steps slow and his brows furrow, his arm removing itself from the small of your back. he gently motions towards the lords he had just taken you from. he starts walking toward them, a grin on his lips. his cheeks are crying out, but the pain is worth it.

you swat at him and pull him back towards you, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“want to see?”

[middnightlight]

It’s that time of the month again

I have finished Season 3 of The Boys and here are my thoughts

Jensen Ackles, his best work yet

The screenwriters added depth to everyone’s arc this season, but especially Black Noir, Maeve, and even A-Train, which I think was needed

We went more in-depth into Butcher’s backstory and BRO- THAT WAS A LOT

Poor Lenny 😭😭

Herogasm wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, but I think that’s just cause I’m desensitized to the show now 💀

That fight between Hughie and Annie was very much needed and they both have a point

Frenchie and Kimiko, once again, were couple goals this season, and once again, were given ✨trauma✨

Homelander...They made me somehow sympathize with Homelander. I didn’t even think that was possible. 

I will say that Butcher did fuck up with Ryan in the worst way possible

“You’re the spitting image of my little brother Lenny” BYEEE😭😭🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

MM deserves better, but we already knew that

Also, Janine’s mom needs to divorce that POS immediately 

A-Train’s and Black Noir’s arcs this season...masterpieces.

Deep...can still go fuck himself.

It’s the way that Homelander just wanted acceptance and love from Soldier Boy, but Soldier Boy was like “You might have my blood, but you ain’t nothing like me” 💀

But the minute Soldier Boy hurt Ryan, both Butcher and Homelander were like “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

The look between Butcher and Homelander when they both lasered Soldier Boy 🤌🤌

Maeve deserves more scenes than what she got, but I love her anyway.

Deep reminds me of a weaker version of Homelander. He wanted all of Homelander’s attention and wants to be his right hand man, even if he’s fucking terrified of Homelander

So in a way, Black Noir was Homelander’s father. He showed him the ropes, kept his secrets. He’s the only person that Homelander’s ever respected. 

Also, the way that Ashley deleted the video file that revealed that Maeve was alive🤌❤️

RYAN, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SMILE???

Elena and Maeve better live a peaceful life, farming in Modesto

All in all, Jensen Ackles served, as usual, and so did the cast😍

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Epilogue}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain - Feyre x Rhysand - Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary: (see TVWLM masterlist!)

A/N: The end!!!!!!!! Or is it? Thank you for reading! We hope you've enjoyed the story. We would love to know what you think! x

Feyre had never been so exhausted in her life.

She’d also never been as happy as she was and she knew those things went hand in hand as she leaned her head on Rhysand’s shoulder. Together, they gazed down at the tiny bundle in his arms, their sleeping child.

He was the spitting image of his father, with his dark hair and tanned skin. All but his gray-blue eyes. She loved it, loved the fact that every time she looked at her son, she was reminded of her husband.

“Everyone will be here soon,” Rhysand muttered with a yawn. “But I’m just so tired.” Feyre laughed quietly while her husband yawned again, looking down at his newborn son. “I can’t believe we created this little guy.”

Feyre had been pregnant when they had gotten married but she hadn’t known yet. They had told the ton that he had been born six weeks early when in reality he had been born just on time. The only person that knew the truth was their doctor, and she was sworn to secrecy. A fact that she delighted in. 

“He’s perfect,” Feyre agreed, brushing back the tufts of black hair. “They say we should be sleeping when he’s sleeping. Does that mean we should be napping now?”

Rhysand looked down at their elegant attire. “We do have a luncheon to host.”

“Yes, but it’s just with our family,” Feyre muttered. “Would it truly be so bad to miss?”

Rhysand laughed quietly. “Am I horrible if I say no?”

She was just about to suggest they steal away to their room, kick off their boots, get rid of the stuffy jacket Rhys was wearing, and sleep just as soundly as their baby was when there was a knock on the door.

“That’ll be Nesta,” she sighed, looking at the clock on the mantle. Everyone was supposed to be there around eleven, but ever since she was a little girl, Nesta had her own inner clock. If you aren’t early, you’re late, Nesta had always told her, and she knew being married to Cassian had likely been pushing her inner clock closer and closer to everyone else’s.

Except for when one was meeting their nephew for the first time.

Rhysand carefully handed their son to her, tucking him into the crook of her arm. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, just beneath the tufts of dark hair, and then kissed his wife. “We’ll take a nap later,” he promised, helping her to her feet.

It had been a week since Nyx was born and while Feyre wouldn’t trade anything for their perfect baby in her arms, the birth had been…difficult. Almost a full day after her water broke, Nyx was finally born, and Rhysand had never been more awestruck, proud of, and in love with his wife than he had been after she’d given birth to their son.

The doorman’s voice carried to them, as well as other familiar voices. Voices Feyre and Rhysand had missed in these past three months.

“My lady, if you’d give me a moment, I’ll introduce you and—”

“She is my sister, there is no need for an introduction.”

“Nes…”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t need an introduction and I am allowed to voice my piece.”

“He’s just doing his job,” Cassian muttered.

An exasperated doorman rounded the corner, followed by Nesta and Cassian.

“The Baron and Baroness,” he said, looking as if he could not leave quickly enough.

Nesta swept into the room, heading straight for the baby. Cassian smiled fondly after her before meeting Rhysand in a warm embrace.

“Fatherhood looks good on you,” Cassian smiled.

“I think you mean exhaustion,” Rhysand joked, “but thank you. How was the honeymoon?”

Cassian grinned. “Oh, it was—“

“He’s so beautiful,” Nesta interrupted, looking at Nyx with tears in her eyes. “He looks just like his daddy, yes, he does.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he watched Nesta, as Nesta’s voice rose an octave. 

Nesta took Nyx into her arms and she bounced him, whispering soothing words to the infant as she walked back and forth in front of the settee. 

Feyre took the opportunity to sit down, smiling sleepily at Cassian. “So you had a good time?”

He had crossed the room, taking a seat on one of the loveseats, and opened his mouth to respond.

“We did,” Nesta answered, carrying Nyx to sit next to her husband. She was still speaking to the baby it seemed, as she said, “But we would have been here no matter what to meet you, sweet one. Yes, sir.”

Cassian reached for Nyx and Nesta shifted out of his grip. He blinked at her. “Let me hold my nephew, woman.”

“I’m not done yet,” she replied, glaring at him. She was gently rocking Nyx as she flayed Cassian with just a look and he was back asleep in an instant. “Wait your turn.”

Rhysand couldn’t help but chuckle as he sat in the empty seat next to Feyre and took her fingers in his. Brushing his lips over the back of her hand, he intertwined their fingers and looked at their siblings. “I think the last letter I received, you two were visiting one of the smaller port cities in Summer.”

Cassian nodded, stretching his arm over the back of the couch, scooting in closer. Nesta smiled up at him, love and adoration in her eyes, despite the fact that she was still hogging their nephew. He pressed a kiss to her temple and leaned back in his seat. “Yes, we didn’t stay long though. Someone preferred the beaches of Adriata.”

“It smelled like fish everywhere you went,” Nesta defended, brushing her thumb along Nyx’s chubby little hand. “And not in an oh, we’re close to the sea way. In a someone needs to bathe way.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian turned to Rhys, giving his brother his full attention. “But you’ll never guess who we ran into while we were sitting down to dinner on that little island, before we returned to Adriata.”

“Azriel and Gwyn,” Nesta finished for him.

Cassian gave his wife an exasperated sigh. “I told him to guess.”

Nesta shrugged. “It would have taken them ages. Surely we have more important things to discuss than guessing games.”

“You’re a thorn in my side,” Cassian muttered.

“I could say the same for you,” Nesta replied, but then she was leaning into him, finding solitude in his touch. 

“I must say, I was surprised when Az said he was taking this woman on holiday with him,” Rhysand said, brows pinched together. “We’ve only ever met her that once, at the wedding.”

Cassian shrugged, his arm still around Nesta. “He claims they’re only just friends. She seems kind enough.”

“And quite lovely,” Nesta said, meeting Feyre’s eye. “Will she be joining us today?”

Feyre shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, although she would be welcomed.”

“Azriel would take a woman who is only just a friend with him on holiday.” Rhysand chuckled. “As long as he can sketch her, he’s happy.”

“Your uncle Az is quite the fellow,” Cassian muttered, brushing his hand along Nyx’s cheek as he slept in Nesta’s arms. “I can’t say I’d find satisfaction in such simplicity.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Oh, we know exactly how you find satisfaction.” A second passed before she added, “Or, at least I do.”

Cassian grinned before he reached for Nyx again. This time, Nesta gave him up and she melted at the sight of him in Cassian’s arms.

“That is far more information than I think we needed,” Feyre replied, fighting a yawn and losing.

“What’s life without a little over-share?” Nesta waved her off. “How’s he sleeping?”

“He’s great at it,” Rhysand sighed, and even though they could see how happy he was, they could see the exhaustion setting in. “For very short periods of time. Then he’s very good at waking us up.”

They decided to send most of the staff to their homes for a few months, to spend Nyx’s first few months as a family, with just Miryam and a few others. They had done it for some privacy and to enjoy their time together as unimpeded as possible.

Little did they know they’d be doing the staff a favor. No one in the manor house was getting much sleep, thanks to the mighty lungs on the tiny boy.

Footsteps approaching in the hall snagged everyone’s attention and suddenly Azriel appeared in the doorway.

“How did you get in without an introduction?” Nesta asked, tilting her head.

He shrugged a muscular shoulder. “I came in the back.”

Crossing the room, he first greeted Feyre with a kiss on the cheek and then embraced Rhysand as he stood. “Congratulations, brother.”

“Thank you,” he replied, patting Azriel’s back twice before pulling back to look at his face. “It’s good to have you home.”

“Mother’s tits, you’re tan.” Neither of them had heard Cassian even get off the couch, but there he was, Nyx still tucked into one arm. He tugged on Azriel’s collar, trying to look beneath his shirt. “Is it all of you?”

Azriel stepped back, swatting his hand away and rolling his eyes as Rhysand laughed quietly. “I shall not deign that question with an answer.” He stepped forward again to peer down at Nyx. “By the Cauldron…he looks just like you.”

Feyre sighed. “Yes, he looks just like his father which is ironic considering his father did very little in bringing him into this world.”

Rhysand grinned. “Perhaps not, but I did enjoy making—“

“If this is the way you speak when two ladies are in the room, I would hate to hear what the three of you speak like in private,” Feyre noted, purposefully cutting off Rhysand’s personal confession.

Cassian grinned as he passed his nephew to Azriel, who took him gently in his arms and bounced gently as he walked around the small space. Nyx immediately melted into his arms. 

“Good evening!”

Elain came around the corner and Nesta threw her hands in the air. “How did you get in without an introduction?”

Elain shrugged. “I just smiled at the doorman and kept on walking. I passed Miryam, she said you all were in here. Poor woman looks like she hasn’t slept in ages.”

“None of us have,” Rhysand muttered, but then he looked longingly at his cradled son.

Elain followed his gaze where Azriel stood near a wall of books, swaying back and forth with the baby in his arms. She stilled as a look so pure and heartbreaking swept across her gestures.

Azriel was already watching her.

She cleared her throat, her shoulders settling back. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“We just returned yesterday evening,” he told her, though it was news to everyone in the room.

We.

Nothing had been the same between the two of them since the night of Rhys and Feyre’s wedding. There was a tension that had never been there between the two of them and it was palpable enough that Nesta cleared her throat.

“How have you enjoyed your time in Spring?”

The question had her tearing her eyes from him and instead focused on her sister. “Lovely. Prince Tamlin has been a gracious host and it’s gorgeous this time of year. I’m considering returning until the start of the social season.”

“Why come back for the social season if you intend to marry the prince?”

Elain’s eyes found Azriel’s again. There was something in his tone, in the way he asked that gave her pause. He was genuinely curious. Tearing her gaze away, she looked to the bundle he was holding. “May I hold my nephew, my lord?”

He didn’t speak as he nodded, meeting her in the center of the room. As he nestled the baby in her arms, his hand brushed against the exposed skin of her own. She was careful not to jerk away, but she did flinch. His eyes darkened at the reaction she had to him.

Just as he started to turn away, she softly said, “And for your information, I’m returning for the gardens. Not the prince.”

Azriel froze, his jaw locked, and the storm brewing in his eyes declared that he was not so sure. Everyone else in the room had gone silent. Neither Azriel nor Elain had explained any aspect of their relationship to their siblings, but they all knew something had happened, that something was going on.

If Elain or Azriel were being honest with themselves, they did not fully know what had gone on between them, what dwelled between them now. All they knew was what they felt, the chaos of emotions that enveloped them both when they thought of one another. 

“I do hope the gardens are worthy of your presence,” he said.

She took in a deep breath as her eyes bore into his. She knew full well that he did not speak of the gardens.

Elain turned from him and walked towards the others, cradling Nyx in her arms. “He’s so beautiful. He looks just like—“

“His father,” Feyre interrupted, sighing. “I know.”

Yet she fell into Rhysand’s side and smiled fondly at him. 

“Prince Tamlin, then,” Cassian started, his arm around Nesta. “Is he truly a gracious host? Every time I’ve been around him— oof.” Nesta had nudged him in the side, cutting off his words. He frowned at her. “What? Am I not allowed to speak freely?”

Elain chuckled. “You are most welcome to speak freely. And he has been a gracious host, truly. He has been kind and welcoming, showing me all spring has to offer.”

The room was quiet for a moment, Elain gazing down at her sleeping nephew and Azriel stalking to the windowsill to sit down, which left Rhys, Feyre, Nesta and Cassian to glance between each other. It was Feyre that asked, “But?”

Her eyes found Feyre’s before she’d even finished asking. Then she found four other sets of eyes on her, including a penetrating gaze by the window.

“But…I do not find myself happy there,” she admitted. “It is beautiful, I cannot deny that. There are more types of flowers there than I could ever imagine and I’ve enjoyed learning new customs and traditions. The prince would be a wonderful match.” She cleared her throat, looking down at the babe in her arms. “But I’m afraid he is not the match for me. I need to be close to what matters most.”

Nesta’s voice was hesitant, but gentle as she asked, “And what is that?”

Elain’s voice was clear, confident, as she brushed a thumb over Nyx’s soft cheek. “Family.”

Feyre’s slim rested in Elain’s knee and she smiled at her. “We’ve missed you.”

Elain leaned into Feyre as she said, “I have missed you, too.”

The three gentlemen huddled together, giving the sisters room to discuss their feelings. 

Rhysand offered them each a glass of his finest whiskey which they humbly accepted. They would be a fool not to.

Once they each had a glass, they sat down and faced one another as the women, across the room, ogled over Nyx.

“What’s it like being a father?” Cassian asked.

Rhysand sighed, contently. “Unexplainable. It’s amazing. You simply have to see for yourself.”

“And will you be seeing for yourself?” Azriel chimed, sipping from his glass of amber liquid.

Cassian shrugged. “Nes and I have talked about having kids. We’re going to start trying soon but we’ve enjoyed the time we’ve had to ourselves.” He looked across the room at Nesta, where she stared lovingly at the baby in Elain’s arms. “Although, after today I think she’s going to be pushing it.”

Rhysand snorted. “It’s going to happen when it’s supposed to. That’s what we told ourselves when we found out that Feyre was with child. When it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.” Cassian smiled as he took a drink and Rhysand redirected his eyes to Azriel. “No Gwyn today?”

Azriels shoulders tensed but he shook his head. “She has yet to see her own family, she is spending her day with them.”

His words seemed wooden, and both of his brothers frowned.

“Do you truly expect us to believe that you traveled together for three months and you’ve only remained just friends?”  Cassian asked. 

His distant eyes hardened. “I expect you to understand that there are things about her past that she’s only just divulged to me and I won’t betray her trust by discussing our relationship with others when the two of us don’t even have a clue of what’s going on.”

The two blinked at him, Azriel only realizing his voice had been loud enough to carry when he noticed how silent the room had become.

Nesta cleared her throat, dragging the attention back to her. “Lunch should be just about ready, don’t you think, Feyre?”

She nodded, standing stiffly. Groaning quietly, she said, “Yes, it’ll be waiting for us in the dining room—”

The tiniest cry filled the room, cutting Feyre’s words off as all six sets of eyes fell on Nyx. He had woken up, each time just as jarring as the one before. Elain tried to soothe him, but ultimately she handed him off to his mother.

“He’s likely hungry,” Feyre said, swaying with him in her arms as she headed for the door and to his nursery beyond. “We’ll be a few minutes, but please go ahead and eat.”

“Nonsense.” Nesta stood and followed her. “I’ll help you upstairs and the boys can wait. They’ve got their bourbon anyways, they’ll be fine.”

They exited the room, leaving Elain on the sofa by herself. It was only a moment before her eyes met Azriel’s and she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall…help as well.”

With what exactly she’d be helping, Elain wasn’t sure, but she bolted from the room.

Once her footsteps faded down the hall, Cassian and Rhysand turned on their brother. Rhys spoke first. 

“We did not mean any offense to Gwyn,” he explained. “We do not know her as well as you do, but we would like to. And three months is a long time. You can see why we’d assume…”

Releasing a sigh, Azriel nodded. “I get it, don’t worry. Gwyn is not a fan of the society, but that is something about myself I cannot remove.”

Cassian was rubbing his hand across his jaw. He pointed from his brother to the vacated seat Elain had just been in. “And what exactly is going on there?”

“Nothing.”

The word was nothing more than a snap.

“Let me rephrase.” Rhysand leaned forward and refilled each of their glasses. “What happened between you two?”

Azriel stared at his glass, mouth grimly set in a straight line. It was a difficult question to answer because he honestly did not know the answer. One moment he was falling in love with the woman and the next she had left his brother at the altar and was being courted by Tamlin. All the while, it has felt as if she did not like Gwyn which only made him angry. Elain had no reason not to like her.

He and Elain had not spoken to one another since the night of the wedding.

“I am unsure,” Azriel answered and took a drink before carefully setting his glass back down. “We have not spoken since your wedding night and I hardly remember what we had spoken of then. Perhaps I said something wrong.”

It was a lie. He remembered that last conversation perfectly well.

“Perhaps you should speak with her,” Cassian suggested. “It’s clear there’s tension between you. Every one of us just witnessed that.”

“She does not wish to speak to me,” Azriel replied, quietly.

“I disagree,” Rhysand replied, settling back into his chair, signaling that they would indeed be waiting for the ladies and wouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d talked about this with them. “And despite what your outward appearance tells us, I’m pretty damn sure you would like to speak with her.”

“Do not presume to know what I’m feeling, Rhysand—”

“I don’t have to presume, it’s written all over your face.” His glass hung between his fingers, even as he pointed a finger at Azriel.

“Fortunately for us but unfortunately for you, we are married to her sisters, so despite whether or not you wish to speak to her, you will likely be seeing her quite often if you plan to see us.” Cassian leaned down so his elbows rested on his knees, clasping his hands together.  “And we plan to see you, so you better figure it out.”

The bluntness that only Cassian could dole out cracked the shell of Azriel’s anger.

“I’ve done just fine without my father for twenty-seven years, I do not need you two stepping in acting like him now.” The smirk that grew on his lips shoved away the tension in the air and he sighed as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I will speak to her, if she will allow me to. Not today though, today is not about me or her. It’s about you.”

He nodded to Rhys, who smiled in return and took a drink. “Actually, it’s about Nyx but I had a pretty crucial part in making him—”

“The girls are right, we can be quite crass,” Cassian jumped in.

“But, back to you, Az.” Rhys set down his glass. “If you have feelings for one, you cannot have the other, no matter what their own feelings are. That isn’t fair to Elain, or Gwyn.”

Azriel frowned. “You truly think I’d be so cruel?”

Rhysand lifted a brow. “Not intentionally, no.”

He waited for Rhysand to go on but he did not. Instead of replying, he took a much longer drink of his whiskey. He should talk to Elain. If anything just to get everything out on the table. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, something had been going on between them. Which was ironic, considering it was all he had wanted since the moment they met, for something to be going on between them.

But life happened. Elain was to marry Cassian and when she did not, suitors had lined up at her door. She could marry any of them, could have a perfect life with any of them.

She was being courted by a prince, for the Mother’s sake.

Elain was not the safe choice, was not the easy choice, but he truly did care for her more than he was willing to admit.

He cared for Gwyn, too, even though they were simply just friends. Although that friendship has bloomed into something special over the months they spent together…

It would be easy to create a life with Gwyn, but she did not fit in with the ton, with no intention to, and Azriel had a responsibility to his title, to the life that his mother had created and lived before him. He would not disrespect her by walking away from it all, no matter how much he loathed it sometimes.

Thinking of the women had him pensively swirling his drink. He feared with the gain of one he would lose the other, and that simply would not do. Not when he really did care for each of them in his own way.

There was a time not so long ago that he could never see himself as a married man.

Now he could.

He just didn’t know with whom he wished to share that life. 

____________________________________________________________

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[stealforreal]

Future kids - Bakugou Katsuki I

Bakugou meets his son from the future. Just some fluff, with a jealous Bakugou.

Bakugou Katsuki x F! reader

Warnings: none

Bakugou was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing that stupid nerd Deku in his mind. Kicking some rocks lying in his way, he was radiating murder. Naturally his classmates left him alone to cool off for a minute, even the Baku squad left him alone. They had chosen not to interfere, because they would like to live to see another, thank you very much. 

The stupid nerd had been too close to y/n at lunch today, and Bakugou had spent the entire time glaring at the curly green haired boy. What really made him snap was when she hugged him, and the stupid brocoli went as red as a tomato. She was giggling loudly and seemed really happy at whatever Midoriya had said, and the fiery ash blond couldn't control his jealousy so he stormed off. After class was over Bakugou was the first out the door, not even stopping to insult Denki when he made a bad joke. 

The rest of his classmates were confused, sure they all knew Bakugou to be a hothead. But still he seemed angrier than usual, only the Baku squad had small nervous but knowing smiles on their face. They knew of the explosive boy's crush on y/n, it wasn't totally obvious and they really wouldn't have known had Kirishima not pointed out the subtle things. Like how he never once called her an extra, he still called her idiot, dumbass and such. That was probably Bakugou's version of a compliment, which was probably the reason they took so long to figure out his crush.

So here he was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing Deku for being close with y/n, Himself for getting jealous, y/n for being too friendly and everything he could curse in general. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a little tug on his uniform pant leg, glaring down at the thing that stopped him. Only to be confused when that thing turned out to be a little boy, around the age of 4-5 by the looks of it. Bakugou's brows furrowed in confusion, how did a little boy end up here. UA is one of the most secure places in Japan, courtesy of the League of Villains and other past incidents. 

What caught Bakugou's attention though, was the fact that this little boy was bawling his eyes out and trembling with his sobs. Bakugou didn't know what was happening, he felt incredibly protective of the young boy but didn't know why. He seemed kind of familiar, like Bakugou had seen parts of him somewhere else before. The little boy had big e/c doe eyes, filled to the brim with tears as he stared at the ground. His hair was unruly and a familiar shade of ash blond, he reminded Bakugou of himself a bit when he was young except the crybaby attitude of course. It was weird for Bakugou to feel this protective of anything, and he didn't like it one bit

" Oi brat, where are you parents?" The teenager asked the little boy, crouching down to his level, making the little lad finally pay attention to the stranger he had grabbed. The little boy gasped and flung himself at Bakugou, clutching on tightly to the stunned teenager's shirt. A new wave of tears hit the little blonde, being relieved at the familiar sight of his fathers face though much younger. " D-daddy, I-I was so scared" the little boy whimpered, burying his tear stained face in his fathers shoulder. Bakugou was speechless, he sure as hell was not this kid's father even if it explained the feeling of familiarity. No Bakugou shook his head at the ridiculous thought, this kid was obviously terrified and contrary to popular belief Bakugou would not abandon a lost child " Oi brat, I'm taking you with me back to the dorms. Afterwards we'll find your parents' ' he huffed, Bakugou was going to kill this kid's parents once they were found.

The younger boy began calming down in the older boy's arms, the tears had stopped and he was only softly hiccupping now. "B-but daddy I did find you, I wanna go see mommy" the young boy huffed out, defiantly crossing his arms over his little chest. " Oh yeah, prove it brat" Bakugou smirked thinking he had cornered the little boy in his lie, but much to his astonishment the little boy let out a small explosion in the palm of his hand. Though much brighter than his own, there was no mistaking his explosion quirk.  Bakugou hated to admit that so far the brat seemed to be telling the truth, and he hated even more how his feeling of protectiveness grew at the revelation that this kid in fact was most likely his son from the future. It wasn't rocket science, right now Bakugou was 16 and 100% not a father. Yet here is a little boy that is the spitting image of him as a kid except the eyes, and in this world where quirks exist perhaps time travelling was possible.  

Bakugou's little chat with his son had taken longer than he thought, because as soon as he entered the dorm common room every one in the room snapped their head towards the two ash blondes. The first to break the pin drop silence was Kirishima  " Eh who is the kid, Bakubro" he asked. While Mina asked if he had kidnapped the kid, earning a glare from the explosive blonde. " Daddy, why does Aunt Mina and Uncle Kiri not recognize me? " a little voice asked, making a lot of jaws drop and eyes widened. 1....2......3...... " WHA!!!" The lot of them shouted, questions coming left and right, wanting an explanation as to why this little boy who looked suspiciously like Bakugou called him dad. 

What they all failed to notice was the little boy was recoiling from the loud noise, pressing himself closer and closer to his father. Bakugou noticed this, and thanks to his newfound protectiveness he hugged him closer and glared at them effectively shutting them up. Mostly they were just silenced because the sight of Bakugou hugging and being protective of his supposed son baffled them. I mean we are talking about Mr.Hothead angry Pomeranian, the most blatant rude student in class 1-A if not in the entirety of UA. " Shut it ya damn morons, can't you see you're frightening him" Bakugou sneered at his classmates, not loudly but it was still malicious enough to make a shiver run up their spines. 

Midoriya, who had known Kacchan the longest, was intrigued by this side of Kacchan and unconsciously moved closer to the two ash blondes. Seeing the familiar shade of green hair approach them Bakugou sneered, while his son became ecstatic. " Uncle Izu '' The child yelled excitedly, stretching his arm towards the blushing brocoli boy indicating he wanted to be held. " Ah hell no! He is not your uncle, I won't allow shitty Deku to hold my son" Bakugou yelled, making a few snicker quietly, but what really set them off was the fact his son chopped his head with a little fist. "Oi, why the hell did ya do that for ya brat? Bakugou barks at his son, only receiving a deadpan expression in return. " Mommy said, every time your daddy is mean to uncle Izu chop his head for me, okay baby?" After that announcement they all burst out laughing, while Midoriya tried not to tremble under Bakugou's glare. 

"Speaking of which, who is your mom?, uhm I never got your name, little guy" Kirishima asked the little boy, stating a valid point. Bakugou realized that even though he had known his son for about 5 hours now, he never once asked what the boy's name was. " What do you mean, Uncle Kiri, it's me Katsuma?" Katsuma tilted his head a bit, not really being aware or understanding that he most likely travelled through time. " Well you aren't born in our time yet, mini Bakugou" Kaminari informed the little boy, in his usual teasing voice. " Really Uncle Kami" Little Katsuma asked " Does this mean mommy and daddy aren't together yet?" He asked, surprising the teenagers. Katsuma was surprisingly smart for a kid his age, and after the initial shock from being called daddy Katsuki totally forgot to ask about his son's mother. 

"That is correct, Katsuma'' Todoroki piped up in his usual monotone voice, surprising Katsuma with his appearance. " Uncle Todo'' Katsuma replied coolly, surprising everyone present. The happy bubbly 5 year old had vanished in an instant, and been replaced with a little boy full of hatred. Breaking the little staring contest that had broken out between his son and the damn half n half bastard, was none other than Midoriya's phone. Being the klutz that he is, he ended up answering and putting it on speaker. " Izuku, Ochaco said there was a cute kid at your dorm, so I'm coming over " y/n voice could be heard, instantly Katsuma brightened up again being all sparkles and rainbows again. He tugged at his dad's collar, demanding Katsuki's attention " daddy, daddy did you hear, mommy's coming over" the little ash blonde exclaimed, bouncing in his fathers arms from being giddy. This new information caused everybody's jaw to land on the floor once again.

" WHY, why does Bakugou get the hot chick? '' Mineta yelled in agony, being the little pervert he is, he had to comment on her looks. " Oi, don't talk about my future wife and baby mama y/n like that, I'll fucking blast you to hell" His statement followed by the crackeling in his palm, and the sound of a phone being dropped? Turning around Bakugou was met with your stunned face, eyes blown wide with confusion and astonishment clearly written on your face. " Mommy" Katsuma yelled, squirming trying to get out of his fathers embrace, and slowly Katsuki sat him down. When his small feet hit the floor, Katsuma was sprinting towards y/n with all his might and flinging himself into her arms. Resulting in the poor girl, falling down on the floor in her confusion.

Katsuma buried his face in her neck, sighing happily to himself. The remaining nerves  he had totally disappeared once he saw you. As much as Katsuma was a daddy’s boy, he was even more of a mama’s boy. Katsuma could feel the lack of response coming from his mother, curious and slightly scared he looked at her face. you were absolutely stunned, no response came from you frightening the young boy. Tears began swimming in Katsuma’s beautiful e/c eyes, snapping you back to reality. The sight of a child with tears in his eyes, struck your motherly instincts. Answers could wait, right now there was an adorable toddler with tears in his eyes, and you had to comfort him.

Slowly Katsuma was pulled into your embrace, head buried in the crock of your neck. Arms wrapped tightly around the preciuóus boy, letting him cling to you for deer life. “ M-mommy, I m-missed you, I was s-so scared-d” Katsuma said through sobs and hiccups. Not bothering to correct him, you bounced him lightly up and down in your arms. Bakugou came and helped you onto your feet, putting an arm around your waist. His other hand began stroking Katsuma’s unruly blond hair. 

Around them the rest of the class was still stunned into silence, seeing the small family in an embrace. Most of them had never seen Bakugou look so protective and calm, let alone with a small blush. You would also sport a matching blush if it weren’t for the fact, all your attention was on the young boy in your arms. He looked like a carbon copy of Katsuki, yet his e/c eyes looked exactly like yours. Slowly the sniffles stopped. Instead they were replaced by steady breathing, it seems like the child had a long day because he was fast asleep in your arms.

Slowly you made your way to the 1-A dorm living room couch, with the sleeping child in your arms and Bakugou not far behind you. He made it a point to keep his hand on the small of your back, glaring at the other guys present if they looked at your or his son the wrong way. “ Can somebody please explain to me what is going on?” You whispered so you wouldn’t wake up the young boy, whose name you still hadn’t caught. Your eyes caught Izuku’s eyes, but for some reason his eyes widened and he averted his gaze from you. Izuku is one of your best friends, you met because you and your classmate Hatsume Mei worked on his hero costume and you hit it off. 

With your attention not fully on the child anymore, you now realised that somebody had their arm around your shoulders. Looking to your right where the owner would be stítting, your eyes widened slightly at the person on your right. One of the hottest guys in UA had his arm around you, Bakugou Katsuki of class 1-a was well known in the school. His temper, looks and quirk had made him extremely popular with the female population of UA, though none of them dared approach him. The bad boy image both attracted them and made them keep their distance from him. He wasn’t exactly known for being a teddy bear, so Katsuki hugging y/n closer to him and keeping touching her was not expected.

 “ Oi Flashlight, brat is ours from the future. I don't know how he got here but it’s true. He even has my quirk, you know what this means right ” Bakugou spoke, explaining the situation. The others had left the two of you alone, giving Bakugou privacy to explain the surreal situation to you.  What this means? What did he mean by that? You couldn’t help but ponder the meaning. Turning your head to face him and question him on what he meant, you were met with a very close Bakugou. Bakugou couldn’t contain himself seeing you look so adorably clueless, so he closed the small gap between you. 

His lips were surprisingly soft. He was gentle in kissing you, not knowing how you would react. I mean you had to like him back right? You were sitting there next to hum with YOUR SON in your arms. He smelled nice, it was a sweet scent like caramel courtesy of his quirk. The kiss was slow, loving and gentle, the feeling of his lips on yours were intoxicating. Pulling back from the kiss, Bakugou growled silently, huskily in your ear “Your mine, flashlight” Heat crept up your neck, and you were left softly blushing. “ What are we going to do with him Bakugou?” Still facing Bakugou, you looked at your son from the future. There really was no mistake, he looked like a perfect Katsuki copy with your eyes, and your motherly instincts told that this was in fact your son. 

“It’s Katsuki to you Flashlight ” He corrected you “For now let's go to bed, it’s late. We can ask the squirt questions tomorrow” Katsuki led you to his room, still with a sleeping Katsuma in your arms. His bed was big enough to fit the three of you. You laid down with Katsuma in the middle, both you and Katsuki put an arm around Katsuma. Katsuki intertwined your fingers, and slowly you fell into a blissful sleep. You could ask more questions tomorrow.

But when you woke up, Katsuma was nowhere to be found. Only you and Katsuki were cuddling in his bed. You and Katsuki both came to the conclusion that whatever quirk sent Katsuma here probably sent him back to his own time. “Katsuki, is it wrong of me to miss him already?” You looked at your new boyfriend, looking into his sleepy vermillion orbs. “ If you miss the little firecracker already, why don’t we bring him back” His morning voice was rough, and tickled your ears just right, sending a shiver down your spine. Bakugou's eyes glinted with mischief, as he began kissing your neck. The innuendo not lost on you, the feeling of his lips on a particular spot had you giggling. It was ticklish and stopped him in his tracks for just long enough for you to get a word in. “ Let’s wait a few years okay” He nodded and laid down next to you again, pulling you close.

You would see Katsuma again. Someday.

[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[rubysunnday]

slipping through my fingers

A/N: I felt like writing a little something for Violet and Bridgerton!sis because this is very much how I feel about eventually leaving my own family.

Becoming a mother was one of the best things that could have happened to Violet Bridgerton. She’d always dreamed of having a large, loving family and she’d achieved it. The loss of her husband, Edmund, had almost broken her but she’d kept going - for her children. Anthony had been her rock - as had Benedict. But, one by one, Violet was watching her children grow up and start their own families. She’d been expecting it for years and she wanted to see all of her children be married off and happy.

But for some, unknown reason, watching Y/N make her debut was one of the hardest things she had ever done as a mother. Violet insisted that she loved all her children equally but Y/N was, undeniably, one of her favourites. Y/N was almost a spitting image of her mother and there were so many things that she did that reminded Violet of Edmund.

Y/N looked at her mother in the mirror, noticing her wistful silence and the way she was staring at her. “What’s wrong?”

Violet looked over at her daughter. She smiled and smoothed her dress down, picking up the earrings she was looking at. “Nothing, dearest.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at her mother, accepting the earrings she offered her. “I don’t believe you.”

Violet chuckled, putting her hands on her daughters shoulders. “I’m just realising how quickly you’ve all grown up.”

“Well, I think you need to take another look at Colin - the man threw a scone at my head yesterday,” Y/N replied, putting the earrings in. 

Violet smiled and gently began fixing her daughter’s hair, straightening her hair piece and pushing all the pins in again. She wasn’t ready to watch her make her debut. It was one step closer to seeing her leave and she wasn’t ready. 

“Mama,” Y/N said, turning in her chair and taking her mother’s hand, “what’s the matter? Honestly, this time.”

“You’re all growing up so fast,” she said softly, reaching out a hand and tucking a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “Your father would be so proud of you, Y/N.”

Y/N felt her eyes sting and she wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, burying her face in her dress. “Don’t make me cry,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t cry.”

Violet laughed softly, resting her hands on Y/N’s head and kissing her hair. “No, no crying.” She straightened up and cleared her throat. “Right, I’m going down - don’t be long.”

Y/N nodded, smiling. “I won’t be,” she promised.

Violet nodded and turned to go. She paused in the doorway and watched as Y/N finished putting her earrings in and Rose added her necklace.

Downstairs, the rest of the family were waiting patiently and impatiently. Violet walked down and over to Anthony, smiling and linking her arm through her sons. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, noticing her teary eyes and shaking hands.

“Nothing,” Violet replied with a soft smile, leaning her head on Anthony’s shoulders. “She just looks beautiful.”

Y/N sighed, looking in her vanity one last time before she left her room. She was nervous - making her debut was a big deal and meant she was growing up and, at some point, she was going to have to leave her family.

She didn’t like being away from her family for too long, Y/N was incredibly close with all of them, especially her mother. She knew she would eventually have to but she wasn’t ready just yet.

But she had to make her debut now - she’d put it off for long enough. 

Y/N inhaled deeply and stood up, her white silk dress falling down around her feet as she grabbed her train and draped it over her arm. 

“Are you ready?” Rose asked, looking at Y/N as she held open the door.

“As I’ll ever be,” Y/N replied with a nervous smile. 

Y/N walked out her room and handed the train of her dress to Rose as she put one foot in front of the other and began walking down the corridor, keeping her head up incase her tiara slipped. 

Her hands began shaking slightly as she saw her family waiting in the foyer and she plastered a smile to her face and began walking down the stairs.

Y/N caught one look at her mother and almost burst into tears as she saw her mother beginning to cry. 

“No, don’t,” Y/N said, pointing a gloved finger at her mother, “we said no crying and if you start, I start.”

Anthony stepped forward and took Y/N’s hand, helping her down the final few steps. “You look beautiful, sister,” he said, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, smiling. 

“The carriage is waiting,” Rose called. 

Y/N inhaled deeply and exhaled softly, calming her nerves. Anthony narrowed his eyes slightly, noticing Y/N’s nerves. He squeezed her hand once and Y/N looked up at him.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked. “We can wait another year.”

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “If I don’t do this now... I never will.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” Anthony said, smiling.

Colin offered his arm to Y/N and she linked her arm with hers, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment as they walked out the house.

Anthony turned to his mother. He knew how close Y/N and his mother was - everyone knew. He also knew how much this was going to hurt his mother, watching Y/N enter society and prepare to grow up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Anthony asked, walking over to Violet and linking his arm with hers. 

Violet sighed shakily. “No, Anthony. Watching your children grow up is painful. One minute they’re depending on you for everything and the next moment they’re leaving and moving on. Time is just... slipping through my fingers and I just want to freeze everything and take a moment to appreciate you all.”

Anthony smiled and kissed her cheek. “I understand.”

Violet nodded and the two began walking out the house and to the carriage. She paused on the steps and took in the sight of her children. Hyacinth and Gregory were being reluctantly put into line by an exasperated Anthony, Simon and Daphne were trying to persuade Eloise to leave her book behind, Benedict and Francesca were talking about something and Colin was helping Y/N climb into their carriage, carefully folding the train of her dress up so that it fit inside. 

And Violet wished she had the power to freeze time or take an opportunity to paint a picture - so that she could cherish this moment forever. She knew she had to let go but she was never going to be ready to say goodbye to her children.

And suddenly, the moment was over. Benedict and Colin walked over to their horses, encouraging Gregory to leave Hyacinth alone and straighten his suit up, Francesca and Eloise were trying to grab Hyacinth and shove her in the carriage and Anthony was checking on Y/N one last time.

Violet inhaled and sighed. She stepped down the stairs and time resumed once more.

[fraiserabbit]

“You’re the spitting image of your father, Thomas!”

“And he’d be incredibly proud of you now.”

‘Night Terrors’ ft. Thomas, with Gordon and Henry being such supportive friends and i love them your honour 🥺

His aunts’ words stuck with him as Thomas opened the door to the house. Annie and Clarabel meant well by it, sure, but it had soured his mood for the rest of the day. Thomas gently closed the door as he heard soft snoring from the living room. He crept up to the couch, peering over at the figure lying there. It was Henry, still in his uniform. Thomas smiled, gently draping a woollen blanket over his friend. Gordon was nowhere to be found. Not done with his jobs, I guess. He forgot any thought about his father for a while after that.

Suddenly, the door burst open. “I’m hooome!” Gordon sang out, posing in the doorway as if he were being photographed. “Did you miss me? Of course you did.” He laughed, hanging up his coat and kicking the door closed behind him. Thomas was staring out the kitchen window with a cup of tea, rolling his eyes at the entrance behind him. Well, the silence was nice while it lasted. He could hear Gordon’s boots stomping across the creaky floorboards to the couch. “Come now, Henry, off to bed.” Thomas turned around to watch Gordon rapidly tapping Henry’s forehead to wake him; quite an effective method, he must admit. Henry’s groggy voice could be heard weakly protesting the wake-up call as Gordon struggled to lift him from the couch. Thomas shook his head, chuckling. Finally, Henry relented and dragged himself to the bedroom.

“You know, you could’ve just left him there.” Thomas sipped his drink.

“He really must learn to not exert himself so much during the day.” Gordon took a seat at the tiny dining table.

“You should see yourself.”

“Excuse me? I’m perfectly fine!”

“The circles under your eyes say otherwise.”

Gordon scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Just some night terrors is all.”

“About what?” Thomas’ eyes widened. He’d never heard of Gordon having nightmares. He took the seat opposite his friend, leaning forward with interest.

“Well, it was about—hold on. Why should I tell you?”

“Er…because I’m such a good friend and you love me?” Thomas smiled innocently.

Gordon squinted at Thomas, thinking for a moment. “You’re half right.”

“Which part is the right-”

“I have nightmares about my family, Thomas.” Gordon’s face fell and his expression was dark. The mood shift was incredible. It unnerved Thomas. “Specifically about how—” Gordon immediately reconsidered. Thomas could hear the gears turning in his head. “Well, one part is about my parents.”

“Oh.” At the mention of parents, his aunts’ voices came flooding back to his head. He leaned back in his seat.

“The way they treated us like robots. ‘Windsor, that violin won’t play itself. Better fencing form, Polly. A disappointing lap time, Scott.’ It repeats in my mind. Over and over.” Thomas didn’t know what to say. Gordon shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I had your childhood. Or anyone else’s, really.”

“No, no!” Thomas frantically shook his head. “Trust me, mine was…not pleasant.”

“You had a father that loved you, didn’t you?” Gordon frowned.

“Yes! He was brilliant, and I’ll always have fond memories, but-”

“Then what happened?”

“He-” Thomas shifted in his seat. He didn’t want to remind himself. The visuals of his father in the smoke returned.

“Go on, Thomas.” Gordon leaned closer.

“Oh god, you even act like him.” Thomas’ eyes darted over Gordon. The way he tilted his head in curiosity. The way his head slightly nodded involuntarily. It only served to make Thomas uncomfortable. “I’m…only saying this once. And it’s not leaving this house.” He took a shaky breath, standing up and motioning for Gordon to follow.

They both made their way to the bedroom, where Henry had changed into a set of pyjamas and was comfortably tucked into the bottom bunk bed in the corner. Thomas kneeled by his bed in the other corner, pulling out a small shoebox from underneath. He opened it, staying silent. Gordon sat beside him, looking at the wooden figure inside. It was a train—though not one Gordon had seen before. Its left side had been charred; a few edges were gone entirely, leaving the overall shape uneven. The—green?—paint was faded and blackened in some parts, any details smudged as if the figure was grabbed just as the paint was drying. Thomas looked dejected, blankly staring down at the train.

“What were you going to say?” Gordon softly spoke.

“Someone burned the house down, Gordon.” Thomas’ voice was firm.

“How do you know that…?”

“Just when my father had finished it, they burned it down.”

A sleepy voice in the room piped up. “Did they ever get found?” Henry yawned, turning to lie on his side.

“I’d like to believe they did.” Thomas sat cross-legged on the shaggy carpet, absentmindedly picking at the material.

“Is this the last thing you have of him?” Gordon asked. He didn’t exactly know how to handle this new information.

“Annie and Clarabel have plenty of photos of him, at least.”

The bed groaned and creaked as Henry got out, crawling over to the both of them. “You have your memories, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do!”

“And…you have this little train, don’t you?” Henry pointed to the figure.

“He did make it for me, yes.”

“Then why do you keep it under your bed?”

Thomas was silent. He couldn’t answer. Suddenly, Gordon took the train and gently placed it on the nightstand. Thomas instinctively went to grab it, until Gordon spoke. “Doesn’t it look better there?”

“It looks wonderful, Thomas! Wouldn’t you agree?” Henry smiled.

Thomas stared up at it for a while. He saw his father’s handiwork in it. He saw his father coming home late, exhausted, but still making time to play and listen to his dumb stories about school. Most of all he saw his father’s friendly green eyes that always lit up when he saw Thomas.

“It looks like it’s always been here.” Thomas beamed.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Season 16 (Part 1)

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael’s put in motion and have a chance at seeing Dean alive again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, angst, fluff

A/N: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV. This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story bingo!

________

Reader’s POV

You just about had a heart attack when the door opened. It’d been such a long time since it’d been opened. Years and years and years. You’d lost track of the days quickly but it was long enough for you to accept that it’d been a very long time. Long enough to accept that when Michael took over Dean and threw you down in the windowless little room, Dean didn’t win that fight.

The only thing keeping you going aside from the spell Michael had put up to keep you permanently trapped, body stuck in time, was the desire to save Dean. Or what was left of him. You’d been alone for years, body having taken a beating by Michael when he first captured you. You were still covered in bruises, broken ribs that wouldn’t heal, pain in every breath. You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Solitude, cut off from the world, that was your main form of torture. Dean though...who knew what hell he was going through trapped with a psychopath like that for all these years.

You readied yourself, a dark figure walking inside the room. The room was pitch black to a certain point before you were trapped under a bright light you’d yet to figure out how to turn off. The figure stopped as their feet hit the brightness, a pair of brown boots and slim dark jeans all you could make out. They mumbled something and you felt the air shift slightly. You dared to reach at hand out to where the invisible wall keeping you trapped had been.

Your hand waved right on through it and you suddenly felt cool, clean air hit you. The person jolted when you sprang up, running away as you bolted for the door. You followed them up a flight of stairs and straight out into the foyer of a very nice house. You could see it was a man now and tackled him, straddling his hips and grabbing your knife from your waistband of your loose shorts, holding it to his throat. He breathed hard as you stared at him, cocking your head.

He was the spitting image of Dean. Mostly. His eyes weren’t green and there was something about his nose that reminded you of your own. The biggest tell of all though was the genuine fear in his face, the confusion. 

“What’s your name,” you said. You held up the knife for a moment and tucked it away when you saw he was only focused on it. The young man, no more than twenty years old, took a deep breath. You yelped when he threw his legs up and wrapped them around your waist, yanking you off of him. He scrambled to his feet but you were on his tail, grabbing at his jacket. He spun around and popped you in the face, sending you to the floor.

You whined and cupped your cheek, the young man frozen in the doorway with a horrified look on his face.

“Who punches their own mom!” you shouted. He ran out the door and you went after, growling at your bare feet as he took off down the gravel driveway. “I’m gonna find you!”

You stomped your foot on the cool concrete front path, glancing to your right and spotting a sports car. You jogged back inside and found a pair of women’s sneakers, a little too big but you tied them tight and found some keys on a front table. 

About two minutes later you were pulling up beside the guy on the road and hopped out of the car, the man running into the nearby treeline. You pulled out your knife and threw it, catching his jacket and pinning the sleeve to the tree trunk. He stumbled and fell down as you walked over, staring up with wide eyes. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. 

“Can you at least tell me your first name?” you asked. He shook his head and you crossed your arms. “I bet your name is Lyle, isn’t it.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, voice a bit higher than Dean’s but it made you smile, something warm and familiar to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Lyle is my top name for a boy if I ever had one,” you said. “So. Lyle Winchester.”

“That’s not my name,” he said. He stood up and pulled out the knife, carefully holding it out to you.

“You look just like Dean and me. You’re my son...somehow,” you said.

“Fine. My name is Lyle and that’s all I can say about myself,” he said. “I’m serious.”

You recognized the tone, that edge to it, the roughness but laced with an undercurrent of worry. Part of you wanted him to tell you everything about him but you knew he couldn’t, instead letting yourself give him a simple nod.

“I’ll make you a deal Lyle. I won’t ask questions about you that you can’t answer if you tell me how and why you got me out of there and answer anything else I want to know about this little situation.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed.

“Or else someday when you’re a teenager I won’t let you do anything. Lyle.” You took the knife from him and put it away, taking a deep breath. You stepped back out to the road, leaning against the car. You shut your eyes, something heavy draped over you. You peeled one eye open, Lyle leaning back against the car next to you in a blue flannel and dark gray t-shirt. His black hooded jacket was over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around yourself. You squeezed your eyes tight, shuddering before warm arms embraced you, Lyle almost as tall as Dean holding you close to him. “How did you know I was down there?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said.

“What year is it?” you asked.

“2089.” You froze, staring up at him. “Well, 2089 where we are right now is.”

“Lyle. It was 2018 when Michael took me. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t answer that either.” Tears welled up in your eyes and he hugged you again. “Sorry.”

“Dean was thirty nine the last time I saw him and it’s seventy one years later? He is dead. Sam is dead. They’re all dead so explain to me how the fucking hell I have a son with Dean!” you shouted. You pushed him away and ran your hands over your face. “Years. Fucking years I’ve sat down there waiting for him to come and get me. Him or Sam or someone. Fucking seventy one years!”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding a bit awkward but he cleared his throat. “I can’t answer everything because I don’t know everything. But I exist and that should tell you something.”

You wiped off your face with his sleeve and looked around, turning back and staring at him.

“I’m at the start of whatever this is and you’re way down the line,” you said. He nodded with a slight smile.

“I don’t understand it but this, where I’m from, this has already happened to you.”

“You’re from the future then,” you said.

“Not exactly,” he said. 

“A different universe?” He looked at you like you were nuts and the air shifted, Lyle freezing. You turned and saw Jack, a smile on his face. “Jack?”

“Hi Y/N,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a big hug, a little bit of ache inside you easing finally. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just on pause.”

“Jack I don’t understand fucking anything. What’s going on?” you asked. He pursed his lips and sighed.

“Well you already figured out Lyle is your and Dean’s son. I didn’t think I could slip that one past you. But it had to be him that came and saved you.”

“Why?”

“Dean’s in heaven. Has been for 69 years.” You broke away from him feeling like you’d had a punch to gut and making you breathless. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that with the whole decades worth of trauma thing happening right now.”

“Did Michael…” you trailed off.

“No. A piece of rebar on a vamp hunt,” he said.

“He what?” you said.

“Yeah got pushed back on it. Sam was okay though. Oh and Dean had a dog for a few months.”

“Dean fucking died from that? That’s what kept him down?” you said. Jack nodded and you looked down, blinking your eyes. “Disregarding what is going on in my head right now about that, why didn’t you heal him? Or Castiel?”

“Well Cas was in heaven helping me rebuild after he sort of died and I brought him back. I kinda am the new God,” he said with a smile.

“I’m proud of that but again, why didn’t you come down here and heal Dean?”

“I’m sort of hands off in that regard,” he said. You were about to go off on him for that when it hit you.

“Jack how long have you known I was alive,” you said. 

“2020 when I took over, I got these extra-”

“You knew I was alive and  left me in a hole in the ground for over seventy years?” you said. 

“Like I said, I’m hands off,” he said. 

“I was your fucking mom! I took care of you! I protected you! I almost died for you more than once and when you find out I’m still alive you say fuck that bitch, she can deal with it on her own? What the fuck is wrong with you!” you shouted. You slapped him in the face, Jack pouting as you sank down to your knees. “I want Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“I want Dean and Sam.”

“Y/N-”

“I want Dean!”

“I can’t-”

“Fuck you! You’re as every bit as evil as that devil father of yours after all,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, tears prickling in his eyes. “Oh did I hurt your feelings? Tough fucking shit! Do you realize that I have not only been stuck waiting for years but my body got stuck too. I’ve been sitting with broken ribs for seventy years. Every single breath excruciating.”

You yanked up your shirt, deep purple and black skin radiating across most of your abdomen. Jack reached out a hand and you moved back, dropping your shirt.

“I thought you were hands off. I don’t want your-” you said before warmth trickled through you, the pain gone, body feeling so strange at being without it. 

“I don’t have to touch to heal you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bowed his head. “I tried to let people live their lives without my interference and sometimes they’re messy but I’ve come to realize recently that’s wrong. A bit of help here and there is good. It gives people hope and maybe I should have done things different.”

“My family’s dead and I don’t want to wait around decades more to see them again in heaven. You’re going to-”

“No I won’t. Lyle’s life counts on you doing exactly what you’re supposed to as do your two other children’s. I can’t just put you in heaven. You can’t die right and you have to wait to see Dean until things work themselves out. Lyle’s going to be with you for a while and help get some things settled. It’s already set in motion so go with it,” he said.

“Jack I want Dean. Please,” you said. “Please Jack. Just five minutes.”

“Would you rather have your family back in the near future, alive, or would you rather have your and Dean’s souls torn apart and you never see him again, dead or alive? Rather he over there doesn’t exist? Rather no one exists?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course I would rather have them back alive-“

“Then be patient.”

“Jack. You gotta give me something. Something please.”

“I’ll talk to Lyle, tell him he can loosen up some. But I can’t tell you what to do. You have to follow your gut. Listen to Lyle and it’ll work out,” said Jack. You squeezed your eyes shut, Jack carefully resting a hand on your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“I hate that our family was ripped apart. I hate that you didn’t tell the boys I was alive once you knew. I hate that the last time I saw Dean alive we argued. I think what I hate most of all is that you treated us like everyone else. We’re not, Jack. We’re your family. All of us deserved a chance at normal and we didn’t get it.”

“Sam did.”

“How many years did Sam live without us? Without his brother?” you asked. Jack glanced down and you nodded. “You said you became God? Why didn’t you get rid of the monsters altogether Jack. Don’t tell me you don’t have that power.”

“I thought...I thought it was the natural order.”

“Yet you know there are other universes with no monsters at all. You could have taken the monsters away. Shit turn them human for all I care. The boys didn’t have to keep hunting after you took over. You could have been hands off and changed that one fact and saved so many lives, improved so many lives.”

“No. I couldn’t have changed it. Not back then.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked. He pulled his hand away and you found yourself in some clean clothes, Lyle’s jacket folded on top of the car.

“Because when I became God, I learned a lot. It sucks knowing that certain things have to happen and that I had to ignore when Sam prayed to me in that barn because things had to happen this way.”

“But why?”

“Because if I didn’t, if I’d intervened then and there, this universe, all of the ones I’ve been busy rebuilding, the way I’ve been rebuilding heaven...it’d be gone. Destroyed and I wouldn’t be able to put it back. It’s a temporary pain even if it doesn’t seem like it. So please, Y/N, please, listen to Lyle. Work with him. It’ll work out and things can be okay. You can have everything you ever wanted and more. You can have the freaking apple pie life and the no monsters and all of it but please understand you have more shit to go through first and whatever happens, do not let Lyle die.”

“He’s my son. I wouldn’t let that happen to him,” you said. Jack nodded and you grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “You’ve grown up Jackie.”

“I’m still a baby by God standards,” he said.

“The guys take care of you after I was gone?” you asked. 

“Yeah. I missed you though,” he said. “I accidentally killed Mary and sort of lost my soul for a bit. Things got bad for a while.”

“Do you see Kelly in heaven sometimes? Mary?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “Kids can fuck up and your parents will forgive you.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Y/N. If I could snap my fingers to fix it all, stop it from ever happening, I would.”

“I’m going to trust that it had to be this way,” you said. “But give me a ballpark figure here. When do I get the guys back?”

“That’s relative. You’re going to end up breaking the space time continuum so it’s hard to answer that correctly.” You stared at him and he shrugged. “Not too long. A few days at most. I promise.”

“Wait is that how we have a twenty year old son?” you asked.

“Yes. The next time you see Dean he’ll be younger than the last you saw him. Just trust your gut and Lyle. Next time I see you I hope things are much better,” he said. You opened your mouth but he disappeared. You shook your head and turned around, Lyle now wearing his jacket, standing closer to the passenger seat door. For a long while you both simply stared, Lyle looking as if he’d just had his own long conversation with Jack. 

“You can call me Y/N if that makes it easier,” you said. He nodded and you took a deep breath, going to the driver’s side. “So. What’s the next move?”

“Jack just said after I got you out we had to go to Lebanon. He didn’t tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“Any idea where we are?” you asked.

“San Antonio,” he said. “So we go North?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Mind taking the first shift driving? I sort of haven’t slept in like seventy years.”

“No that’s fine,” he said. He walked around the front and you made your way to the passenger side, climbing in and sighing. He got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. “You and dad run a construction business.”

“That’s nice,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Dean’d be real good at that kind of thing. He’s really smart.”

“I know. Most guys can’t call up their dad for help on their architecture homework,” he said. 

“You go to college?” you asked, Lyle nodding. “Do you know about...this stuff?”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not insane. I just got home on a friday night. We had dinner and everyone went outside to have a bonfire in the backyard. I went in to use the bathroom and Uncle Jack stopped me before I could get back outside. He said a lot of crazy stuff I didn’t believe but the fact you were in that basement...you and dad are only like forty but you’re obviously too old right now to have had me when that would have made sense and Uncle Jack said space and time is gonna break and-”

“Lyle,” you said, holding up a hand. “Relax. I just want to know, do you know what hunting is?”

“Dad doesn’t go hunting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. You smiled and nodded to yourself. “We don’t even own a gun.”

“I doubt that. But that must mean that something happens to the monsters along the way too.”

“What do you mean monsters? And why were you kidnapped in a basement? And what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be my mom that runs the family business and you kick ass in your soccer league in the summer and you can’t cook to save your life and that’s okay cause you’re really good at baking and pies and shit and I just don’t understand who you really are.” His face was flush, eyes fighting back tears. You smiled, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“You’re a good guy Lyle. We obviously did something right,” you said, wiping away a stray tear that fell. “It’s scary. It’s really scary. I’m not your mom yet but I will be someday. I promise I will tell you everything you don’t know when I catch up to your time. Dean and I will. But we need to go to Lebanon and the faster we can go there and figure out what we have to do, the faster we can get you back home where you belong.”

“But can’t you-”

“This world isn’t safe, Lyle. It is very unsafe for a Winchester especially. Please drive now,” you said. You put on your seatbelt and he closed his eyes. “Please.”

“I was supposed to be having a smore right now,” he said.

“I know. But saving the world is kinda cool,” you said. 

“I don’t want to save the world. I want to go home and not see my mom be beat to shit. I want my dad to go back to teasing me at dinner and not being dead,” he said. 

“If we do this right, you can go back to that really soon. It hasn’t happened for me yet. We can talk all about this when you come back. The night you come back we can talk through it all. But we have to get going. The sooner we go, the sooner it goes back to normal.”

“It’ll never be normal again.”

“Yes it will. I promise.”

“How do you-“

“Because I just had this really bad thing happen to me but someday I’m going to have you and everything I ever wanted with Dean. So it sucks right now but it’ll be better eventually. I know it will. You’re here so I know it’ll be normal.” He nodded and wiped off his face, starting the car up again.

“Y/N. Are you okay after...you know...being down there beat up all that time?”

“Not really,” you said. He took off his jacket and handed it to you. You stared before he rolled his eyes, laying it over your front.

“Sleep. I can drive.”

“Lyle.”

“Y/N. Rest. It’s safe. I got this.”

“You take after your dad.”

“Take after someone else too,” he said. You smiled and nodded, resting your head on your shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“Egg and-”

“Cheese on a biscuit, two breakfast burritos, extra hot sauce and a small hot latte.”

“At least my road trip order didn’t change,” you said, quickly relaxing and falling asleep for the first time in ages.

_______

A/N: Read part 2 here!