#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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[ohtobeleah]

But the fact we know Dot will eventually call Rooster 'Dad' makes my heart swell

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

AAAHHHH my heart just burst inside my chest thinking about this. I feel like it would just slip out the first time, and Bradley would be caught so off guard that he kinda just freezes? But not because he doesn't want to be known as dad, but because you’ve just never spoken about it before or mentioned if you were comfortable with it or if Dot should even be calling Bradley her dad because well, he wasn't biologically.

“You're her father in all the ways that matter though Bradley, so if she's comfortable enough with you to call you dad then I'm okay with it too.” You barely blink after Bradley brings it up. Dot had called him dad at the kindergarten pick-up. She’d come racing out with a drawing she had done just for him, Like she’d done in daycare a million times before. Although this time she’d come racing up to him, jumped into his arms, and squealed two words Rooster knew he’d never forget and would never stop hearing in his dreams.

“Hi Dad!!”

“Okay, well good chat babe.” Bradleys just pressing his lips together and nodding softly, hoping that it wasn't just a one time thing. It's not. Dot calls Bradley dad whenever she isn't calling him Rooster, which had replaced Tooster a few months ago because her speech therapy had actually been working much to Bradleys shock horror. He missed Tooster.

But as Odette gets older, her attitude evolves and when she's fifteen? The spitting image of her mother and a pain in the ass, Dot is calling her uncle Jake to come pick her up from a house party she’d snuck out to attend. Only the cops had shown up and she high tailed it out of there so fast she ended up down at the beach crying. Jake doesnt come and get her, he rings Bradley who's jumping out of bed so fast he doesn't even put shorts on, boxers will just have to do.

“You’re not even my real dad!” She's yelling, a sobbing mess in the passenger seat of Bradleys Bronco, he’d just finished giving her the third degree but told her if she’s gonna do this type of stuff she has to tell him because he just wants her to be safe. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?” And Bradley hates himself for it because he knows it's not good for the Bronco but he's pulling over on the side of the road and slamming on his brakes so hard it sends both him and Odette forward for a moment before their backs hit the seats again.

“Listen here kid–” Bradleys gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw and pointing his index finger at the fifteen year old whos sitting next to him with alcohol running though her system and he fucking knows she high as a kite just by the red in her eyes. “I may not be your biological dad? But I'm here aren't I?” Rooster points out the elephant in the room. “Ive changed my fair fucking share of shitty dippers and I held your hand while I taught you how to rollerskate and ride a bike and I mashed your stupid bananas just so you could throw them in my face anyway.” Dot was dumbfounded, Bradley had never raised his voice at her like this but someone had to smack some sense into this kid before it was too late. “I pay half your school tuition and I make sure you don’t starve to death whenever your mothers working late and need I remind you I’m your legal goddamn guardian, your last name is Bradshaw! So no–I’m not your ‘real dad’ but I don’t need you giving me shit when I’m here and always have been here and always will be here and that deadbeat dickhead isnt and never fucking was.”

It’s silent for a moment while Odette just takes in what the fuck just happened—usually Bradley was pretty passive, never one to raise his voice. But she’d clearly upset him. He’s putting the Bronco into gear again, shifting the gear stick in frustration as he pulls back onto the main road cautiously—his attention now back on the road as he whips the steering wheel around with one hand.

“Your mother would be beside herself if something happened to you kid, so just do me a favour here? and tell me where you’re going, no questions asked.” Again, Roosters met with silence as the fifteen year old just tries to process everything Bradley had just said when her head is spinning and she can’t tell if her fingers were real or not.

“Do you reckon he knew I was defective?” Dots letting her head rest back against the seat as she tries to hide her tears while looking out the window. “That’s why he didn’t want me?” Odette Bradshaw was too young to remember what you’d been through to keep her safe, let alone know why her biological dad wasn’t in the picture.

“You aren’t defective Dot—“ Roosters sighing, he’s still fucking pissed but he can sympathise. “He just isn’t a good person, it was never you.” If there was a conversation Bradley Bradshaw knew not to start without your permission it was the topic of Dots biological father. “But I love you? Isn’t that enough?”

“Please—“ Odette scoffing, picking at her cuticles till they started to bleed a little. Huh, guess they are real after all. “You love mum and you love Riley and you love Nick—“ She’s pausing, her bottom lip quivering as she turned to look at Rooster. “But I was just the package deal.”

“You have no idea how much I love you kid—“ Bradley’s chuckling to himself as he flicks the indicator on. “You’re my daughter, end of story.”

“Yeah but like, you don’t have a choice?” Bradley could tell by the way Dot was slurring her words that she was gonna be sick by the time they pulled into the drive.

“No I don’t have a choice with Riley and Nick—“ Rooster explained. “Because I created them, I have to love them regardless, but you? I choose to love you and I choose to put up with your recklessness and I choose to get up in the middle of the night to come get your drunk ass because I love you and I choose to love you.”

“Really?”

“If you throw up in the car I may have to re-evaluate but yeah kid, you’re stuck with the ‘not real’ dad for life.” By the time Rooster is pulling into the drive your standing at the front door in your dressing gown, arms crossed—glasses on, looking all kinds of angry.

“Oh fuck she looks pissed—“ Dots groaning all the while Rooster is laughing.

“Hey you wanna be a rebel you gotta own up to the consequences of your own actions.”

“Please don’t tell her I’m high—“

“I’m not gonna tell her shit are you kidding me?” Rooster raises his eyebrows in utter disbelief. “Im not suicidal, you’re gonna tell her yourself.”

“Dad!” Dots pleading, begging Rooster to help her out. He thinks it’s hilarious, laughing as he watches you march down the three patio stairs.

“Oh so now it’s dad when you want a bodyguard huh?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

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[teethsteakinc]

Im kinda new to tumblr I know im late lol, but I wanted to post my writing and one of my friends said tumblr was the place. So here’s one of my shameless introspective set in season three after episode six.

—x—

I didn’t want this to happen. I thought a sleepover would’ve been fun, progress, a way to get some alone time. A confirmation that he had liked me more than anyone else. A confirmation that I was more than a warm mouth; that somewhere along the way I had gotten through. And I think I genuinely did, I did break through and that’s what’s scariest for him, that he cares. But my breakthrough wasn’t the issue, the breaking down of the door as his father broke in, the drop of the needle, and the start of the storm, Terry’s loud voice.

He knew.

He had just walked in on his son getting fucked by another man. A fate unimaginable: Terry Milkovich was watching his son leave a dirty stain on the Milkovich name. The chaos was quick, though it felt like forever. A beat down, an attempted escape, and a gun being pulled to my head with a threat to sit down and watch. So I sat, blood running down my face, watching my almost-boyfriend avoid my gaze, as his dad called a Russian hooker to fuck the faggot out of him.

But it’s been a week now and I haven’t seen him. It’s not surprising, Mickey had always tended to run. He was always scared of me in a way, of what I represented. Because to love me, is to accept his sexuality and that just wasn’t a possibility. But the world doesn’t stop turning when you need a break, so I went to school and I went to work, and when the want got overwhelming I smoked to fill his absence. I smoked because smoking is his and I miss his flame. I smoke and think of how I want to crawl into bed with him, how I want his warmth, but it will only make it colder when he leaves, so I cry instead.

I smoke again when I overhear someone saying he’s getting married and having a baby with the same Russian whore from that night. I smoke knowing I was there when she got pregnant because it’s only been a week. I smoke because my world is ending, and I know he doesn’t want to see me because I know my image reminds him. But when the cigarette fizzles out, I need to see him, so I seek him out anyways. I find him at an abandoned building slumped and throwing empty beer bottles at decaying walls. He reeks of booze and spurn. He ignores the call of his name until I throw one of his bottles back at him.

“So your dad beats the shit out of us and you’re just gonna get married no conversation, no nothing?” I’m yelling because he won’t listen, because I’m tired of giving him his way, and because I’m tired of waiting patiently.

“Jesus Christ, calm down.” The tone feels degrading, as if I’m overreacting. As if he doesn’t care that he’s marrying a Russian skank, or that he’s been ignoring me. He gets up to leave like this conversation is over, but it’s barely even started.

“Which piece of trash are you screwing to pretend I don’t matter to you” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice, this has been building too long.

“Fuck you.”

“What? you need to fag bash to feel like a man?”

I mean it to be pushy, I want him to hit me. I want him to leave his mark and let his anger out on me. If he needs to be mean he can be mean to me. My skin is full of fragile bones waiting for him to get tired of throwing bottles against walls. He swings and knocks me down to the floor–he turns to leave but this isn’t over.

“You love me and you’re gay, admit it.” My words are sharp, I want him to turn around, I want to hear him acknowledge what we have. Just this once I wish he’d admit that he loved me. That this was real and that he cares. But I let him beat me up, I let him bash me and pretend he doesn't care.

“Does this make you feel better?” I spit out blood.

“I do now.” This time when he turns I don’t stop him, I watch from my spot in the dirt as he leaves.

Even though I know he’s lying, it hurts, and I can’t tell if the ache in my chest is real, if the punches are setting in, if I’m feeling the after-effects, or if I just need a smoke. But I don’t quit, I can’t quit him. I go to the wedding, and I meet him in the back room of the dingy place he rented. I look at him knowing his answer but hoping that maybe he’ll follow. I hope this isn’t goodbye but even if he got married I’d throw my shoe at the altar and object until they dragged me out kicking and screaming. I build up the courage to finally speak:

“Don’t do this.”

The silence is deafening.

“Do you think I have a choice; do you think I want to marry her? Get out of your own fucking head man I don’t have a choice.”

“Come with me, run away, we’ll make it–just come with me.” My voice breaks off in a whisper, I’m desperate. I’m pleading. What he doesn’t understand is that I need him, even without legs my world runs for him, without his arms the clock stops, without him my heart stops.

“Please–” I fear I’ve given too much of myself away, and he can hear it in my voice, but if I’m not his, what am I?

“Come on man, doesn’t mean we can’t still bang” he laughs even if it doesn’t reach his eyes, this is his desperate attempt to keep me here. But I can’t do this. I kiss him for the last time, raw and desperate because I love him, and I know he does too in the way he grips my hips desperately, but I can’t give in. There’s no pain like watching your love get married to another woman, watching unconditional love go to waste, and I’m not strong enough to bare it. Wasted unconditional love, I can’t just stand here anymore. I can’t watch him kiss the bride and kiss me goodbye. I’ve stood in the way of the door too long, and I need to go.

“Don’t do this man, don’t leave.”

I can hear the hurt in his voice, this is goodbye. He won’t follow me but I can’t keep following him; I can’t keep filling this hole in my chest with smoke, waiting to feel whole. I can’t keep trying to remedy withdrawals with cheap tabaco. I’m tired of wanting more.

The love of my life just told me goodbye.

There’s nothing for me in this town, but in every crack, in every turn, I'm reminded. I see you in everything, the breeze whispers your name in my ear, the sky has your same blue, the mountains have the same slope as your nose and the clouds hide your face. I watch as my three-year relationship crumbles. Despite his denial, even if he never accepted his truth, the past three years were real to me. He can deny but I remember soft kisses and lingering touches, late-night meetups with the promise to see each other soon, and quiet exchanges with favors gone unsaid. I know that every I hate you was a hidden I love you and that his love was loud and disruptive but also sacred and quiet. He was angry but oh so soft because if nothing else he loved me. So even if he never let me hear it or call him my boyfriend this is the worst breakup I’ve ever had. So, for the last time I smoked, before I quit.

—x—

That’s the end of it any critique or commentary is welcome also any help on how to properly tag if I’m doing it wrong.

[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!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (9/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, angst, swearing occasionally

Word Count: 2059

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Okay so I feel rushed 24/7 with this fanfic because of my schedule. I hope you all like it! I rewrote this like 5 times ugh! aha

Enjoy

Visitors at nine o'clock at night was far from uncommon for Sirius Black. But, he usually expected said visitors to arrive with him, hopefully after a wonderful night out drinking and dancing. Visitors that arrived at nine o'clock at night and by themselves were quite an uncommon occurrence at Number Five Godric Lane.

Sirius opens the door at the second knock. The figures of his younger brother and a young woman standing on his front porch both looking gloomy.

"Regulus?" The girl looks younger than his brother, very attractive-- well, she would be, he assumes, if she weren't wearing a scowl that rivaled Regulus's cloudy expression. Sirius leans against his door frame, crossing his arms against his chest nonchalantly, "And you must be (y/n)."

(y/n) opens her mouth to respond, but Regulus cuts her off before she can confirm or deny his statement, "Can we stay here?" The interruption seems to piss her off further, her anger coming off her in waves as she stares daggers at Regulus.

Sirius looks between the young couple for a beat, "I-- sure? But why are you here? What happened?"

"Walburga." Regulus steps forwards to enter, prompting Sirius to move out of the way of his brother and sister-in-law. (y/n) gives him an apologetic look but doesn't say anything as she follows her husband into the small space of Sirius's living room.

He wonders what Regulus has done to piss his wife off so thoroughly as he watches them take a seat on his couch, Regulus somewhere near the middle cushion and (y/n) as far to the right as she possibly can be without sitting on the armrest.

Sirius sits adjacent to them in the comfy reclining chair. After a moment of silence, he sighs, "So, are you going to tell me what's happened?"

"We'll only be here for a couple of days at the least. There was no way we could spend another night-- there."

"I don't care how long you stay. Stay as long as you need to." Sirius looks at (y/n), who still has not said a word to him or Regulus. She's not even looking at either of them, her lips drawn tight and her fingers neatly folded together on her lap. "Were you disowned?"

Regulus's eyes meet his, "No. Can we talk in the kitchen? Just for a moment."

"Sure," Sirius stands up, "I've been rude, though. (y/n) would you like anything to drink?"

The girl's eyes meet his, "Water would be fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back with your water." He leads Regulus into the small kitchen.

"Why are you speaking to me with your wife not present? And what happened anyway?" Sirius opens the cabinet, reaching for a glass as he speaks.

"I wasn't disowned specifically because of (y/n). I know it's the truth. Walburga thinks she's possibly pregnant, and besides, I am sure my father-in-law would be furious to find out our parents ruined his daughter's future over me."

"Is she?" Sirius asks as the glass overflows as he fills it.

"Is she what?"

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Is your wife pregnant?" Honestly, he can understand why (y/n) may be annoyed with Regulus. His little brother was always so distracted by his own thoughts he could hardly converse at a normal rate. Skipping over questions and statements, eager to give his take or changing the subject. He could sometimes be exhausting to talk to, especially if you weren't used to Regulus and his ways.

Regulus scoffs as if Sirius was an idiot to suggest such a thing, "I've never failed to cast a contraceptive charm before. It's just an inkling the woman has, hoping that even as I continue to put up a fight against her ridiculous opinions on how my-- my relationship should look, or how it should operate. Of course, when she suggested that... conceiving an heir was a family matter, I told her it wasn't any of her business. Which she didn't like, at all."

"So you're hanging on as the heir because she's convinced (y/n) is carrying your heir?" Regulus makes a face, the only convincing Sirius needed that he wasn't telling him the complete truth.

"I assume that's what she thinks. You know Walburga. She's convinced sex is strictly reproductive."

Sirius chuckles, "talk about your sex life much with dear old mum, eh Reggie?"

Regulus's frown deepens. Oh, how his younger sibling hated teasing, "of course not. She's become a complete nutter about my private matters. I don't even know how she figured out I was using the charm."

"Well, she is a nutter. Maybe she has Kreacher following you around." It's meant as a joke, but Regulus seems to question if there's some truth in the words. "Oh, c'mon Regulus. Wouldn't you notice the little creep if he had been what-- hiding underneath the bed?" Sirius stifles a laugh. Imagining the little gremlin sneaking into Regulus's bedroom to spy on him from under the bed. The image of Kreacher under the bed, the springs of the bed, knocking against his lumpy head.

"It's not funny. That's entirely possible--" Regulus takes the glass from Sirius's hand, downing it in one go.

"Hey! That was for (y/n)!"

In a very not-raised-by-Walburga-Black manner, Regulus wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, nearly slamming the glass on the countertop, "You can refill it."

Sirius mutters something about Regulus being a 'little git' as he refills the glass and pushing past Regulus to bring the glass to (y/n).

"Here you go." The younger woman takes the glass from him, smiling. The smile seems false in his opinion, her eyes immensely sad.

Sirius practically scurries back to his chair, "right-- so all I have to offer is a couch, which I suppose we can transfigure into a bed? Hopefully, that's okay?" His eyes meet (y/n)'s ignoring a sulking Regulus who sits down next to his wife.

"Of course. Thank you." (y/n) stands, looking at Regulus, "Do you mind?" He scowls but gets up off the couch, shuffling towards Sirius. Both brothers watch as (y/n) pulls her wand from her sleeve.

With an elegant flick of her wand, the couch transforms into a comfortable-looking bed large enough to fit two adults.

Looking pleased with her work, (y/n) sits back on the edge of the bed. Almost reluctantly, Regulus sits on the side of the bed (y/n) isn't occupying.

Again, Sirius has the desire to laugh. Clearly, there has been some sort of spat between the couple. Their mother's rudeness can't be the only thing that's got the couple this worked up.

The uncomfortable silence that overcomes the three of them is unbearable. In an attempt to put an end to the awkwardness, Sirius, with a grin, speaks, "I'm still baffled that I didn't get a wedding invitation."

Neither (y/n) nor Regulus look amused by his words.

"This is not the time, Sirius." If looks could kill, Regulus would have surely ended his life.

***

Undoubtedly, Regulus and Sirius shared DNA. I ponder the similarities between my husband and his older brother as I get ready for bed. They both have the same piercing grey eyes and deep brown hair. But their differences could be plainly seen as well. Regulus is a tad bit taller and far skinnier than Sirius. And Sirius's hair is much longer.

Even as their faces share similarities, Regulus always seems to wear a frown while Sirius clearly had an air of ease. Funnily enough, the frown that Regulus wears doesn't match the woman you'd think he would resemble, as Sirius was the one who favored his mother's sharp features. Regulus had clearly inherited Orion's bone structure.

Undoubtedly though, both men were attractive in their own way.

Spitting toothpaste into the basin, I make a face when the thought pops in my head that I find Regulus more handsome than his brother.

I suppose I am allowed to be biased, or at least should be biased, as I'm married to Regulus, but-- I feel silly thinking about this.

Walking back into the makeshift bedroom, I pass Regulus, who doesn't even meet my eye. We've barely spoken since we arrived in Godric's Hollow, only passing looks of anger between us. Part of me longs to reach out and grab his arm, tell him I overreacted, that I'm sorry... but am I really sorry? Or was I just longing for him to whisper sweet things as he held me in bed how he has for the past weeks? I certainly could go one night, or maybe even a few, without his touch.

Unfortunately, I very much wanted him to play the loving husband again. I wanted to listen to his stories and comfort him when painful memories were brought up. I wanted to kiss him in all the ways we could think. Soft and sensual, deep and unforgiving... I wanted the goodnight kisses and the sleepy morning ones.

I obviously-- I don't love him, not yet. Maybe never if this rollercoaster of hot and cold continues on with us. But I did find myself craving affection and attention from Regulus in a way that would suggest feelings had been developing.

And Gods, did I hope that he felt at least an inkling of these developing feelings of mine. Regulus could be soft and sweet in moments, but part of me wondered if he only felt something for me when I was beneath him. It-- was a thought that had begun to plague my mind as our honeymoon had taken a turn for the better.

I had no proof that he didn't have budding feelings for me; I ultimately felt insecure because of that fight.

The way he spoke to me reminded me of every time I was scolded by my parents or grandmother. Like I was a dumb child who didn't have a say in a decision like practically running away from home-- his home.

Climbing into bed, I pull the blanket up towards my chin. The curtains aren't completely drawn, leaving an opening for a sliver of moon to be seen.

I feel my eyes grow tired as I focus on the moon's illumination.

***

Regulus makes his way back into the living room, meaning to discuss their spat. Guilt had sat in the back of his mind since their argument, but he needed her to realize that the anger he showed hadn't been aimed at her. It was stupid to assume that she would just know and understand the history between himself and his parents, and why wouldn't she assume he was attacking her when he raised his voice?

Part of Regulus had hoped she would just understand, and he wouldn't have to explain the rocky relationship between his family to her. (y/n) could be incredibly understanding, but she wasn't a mind reader. He had been unfair.

The carefully crafted apology he had rehearsed in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth sat at the tip of his tongue, dying instantly when he noticed her already under the covers of their makeshift bed.

The moon shines through Sirius's shitty, cheap curtains, casting a beautiful glow on her.

His voice comes out quiet as he calls her name into the dark. Her body doesn't stir, and he walks closer to the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her sleeping form has him convinced she really has fallen asleep without him.

Almost by instinct, he gets into bed, moving closer to wrap her up in his arms, but he hesitates, wondering if she'd even want to be held by him after their fight.

He feels the pang of sadness at the thought that she may not want his touch any longer.

Regulus reasons with himself that if she really didn't want him near her, she would push him away during the night. Maybe-- maybe she would wake up with his body pressed up close against hers, and it could fix something, or at least maybe she'd wake up less angry at him.

Carefully he moves so she's tucked against his body, his arm wrapping around her waist the way he knows she likes best. With a content sigh, she settles back against his body.

Regulus holds still, making sure she hasn't woken up, eventually relaxing and burying his face in her hair.

At least as she sleeps, she still desires him.