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sstan-hoe · 2 years

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◇ 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 ◇

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — stepdad!bucky barnes × stepdaughter!fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — it's your weeding day, you are marrying the man you love...or are you? he says he loves you, so why is he letting you marry the man he claims is not right for you?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — angst, I hope you're crying, SMUT, fingering, oral (f receiving) p in v, light daddy kink, a bit of degrading and mean bucky, light praise, cheating

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — reblog, comment and/or follow | I got this idea from reading something on tumblr but I can't remember who posted it, tell me what you think!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

“He asked me, he asked me, mom he asked me!” you squealed as you entered the kitchen showing off your engagement ring with a big smile.

Your mother's eyes widened in excitement, she hugged you tight and whispered in your ear how happy she was for you. With pleasure you returned the hug, still not able to believe Peter had asked you to marry him.

“When’s the date, sweetie?” she asked as she led you to the living room to sit down. “We didn’t exactly set a date, but we wanted a summer-ish wedding, like summer but still spring,” you explained your mother who smiled dreamily.

“Oh, yes! May is perfect for that,” she proposed to which your eyes lit up, “yes, yes May is great!” you hugged her again.

“This gives us four months to plan, do you two have any other plans?” your mother asked, she was happy you finally found your happiness in Peter. She adored the young man and always told everyone how he would be her son in law.

“Not exactly, we know that we want to keep it quiet. Just family and close friends,” you explained. You hated having to many people around you and if it was just your family and friends you would feel a lot more comfortable.

Your mother agreed with you, however she fought against the urge to change your mind. She needed to respect your wishes, even if she didn’t want to agree with them.

Just then the front door opened and Bucky Barnes, your stepfather walked in. Your mother immediately stood up and fell into his arms with excitement, confused he hugged her back with a smile.

“What has gotten into you honey?” he questioned lovingly, his wife squealed, “my baby is getting married! Peter asked her to marry him, and she said yes.”

Bucky’s eyes squinted at the news, “did he now?”

Bucky Barnes, CEO of Winter Techs, successful businessman and new husband of your mother for three years now. One day you came back home and walked into your father’s house to find a stranger sitting comfortably on the couch with your mother.

The moment she saw you she got nervous and babbled about how they met, how much they loved each other.

You inspected him more closely as he came to introduce himself, he was the complete opposite of your father. Dark hair, broad shoulders, a light stubble beard, tall as well as muscular and most of all younger than her.

Add to that from the looks he was more your type than hers, you never questioned her why she chose someone younger. It wasn’t your place and after gathering more information about Bucky your questions were quickly answered.

After your father died your mother fell in dept and needed the money, Bucky had money, a lot of money and to top it all off he made her feel young as if she wasn’t almost eighteen years older than him – five years more than you.

You couldn’t believe her. You wondered if she actually loved him or if she just wanted the money and the feeling of youth.

Over time you got to know Bucky better despite your efforts to stay away, it wasn’t just that you didn’t want a relationship with him but also the fact that he was insanely attractive.

Bucky however always sought contact with you until you couldn’t stay away anymore. The man could read you like no other and knew of your attraction towards him. One night, your mother in bed and you alone with Bucky, you acted and kissed him.

This was it, that was the start of your affair with Bucky. You wanted to stop, but he was addicting and to your surprise the relationship wasn’t just sexual, no he took care of you and whispered sweet words in your ear.

Long story short. You fell for him but knew he would never feel the same or act on it which was the reason you decided to move on. The only problem? Bucky didn’t accept it, you landed in bed together more often than you’d like to admit.

Peter could be your salvation, he could help you break the cycle. This marriage could be your way out, right?

“I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” Bucky snapped you out of your thoughts with a smile on his face as if was really happy for you. “Thank you, Bucky,” you said tight lipped and pushed yourself up from the cushions.

You want to leave as soon as possible, not wanting to be in the same room as him any longer. “I’ve got work tomorrow so I will go to bed now…,” you stated, and your mother hugged you tightly again. “Proud of you my girl,” she whispered and kissed your cheek, “good night,” Bucky nodded along.

With that you walked up the stairs, a relieved sigh blowing from your lips. You needed a shower, thankfully you had your own bathroom which shielded you from any unwanted intruders.

The hot water relaxed your muscles, and you could feel the tension leaving your body. Hopefully this would all end in a few months.

After the shower you turned on your hairdryer and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Your thoughts running wild, but the sound of the hairdryer smoothing you.

With a frightened squeak you jumped up a little bit. Bucky had entered with a glare on his face, “marriage huh?” he asked while sitting down. You scoffed at his audacity, “what? Did you expect me to never move on and always pine after you?”

Bucky shook his head, of course not but he wouldn’t let this boy take you away from him. You belonged to him, and he would make sure you knew that.

“No, but you shouldn’t settle for someone like him,” he admitted and closed his hand around yours, but you pulled away quickly. “Someone like him? He’s nothing but good to me, worships the ground I walk on, always knows when I need something, is the nicest person you’d ever meet and he loves me,” your voice broke in the end.

“And I don’t love you? I don’t worship the ground you walk on? I don’t know when you need something, I’m not good to you milyy?” Bucky’s voice is hard, he grips your jaw instead to make you look at him.

He loosened your towel and revealed your naked body, his fingertips grazed over your sensitive skin. You could feel him putting his jaw on your shoulder, his lips close to your ear.

“Tell me, do I not love you?” he questioned again, beginning to stroke your clit. You didn’t want to answer him, his questions were unfair, and he knew it. “Mhm, you’re already wet,” the deep voice sends shivers down your spine, only making you wetter.

“James we can’t,” you whined, letting your head fall back against the wall. A slap on your drenched cunt had you gasping, “what’s my name?” Bucky growled. “Daddy,” you whimpered, a deep chuckle sounding through your ears at the word, “good girl.”

His unoccupied hand closed around your throat, the cool metal sending shivers along the back of your neck. He made you look into his ocean blue eyes, they were filled with lust, lust for you.

You closed your eyes, not being able to look into his eyes any longer. He would draw you under his spell again, you couldn’t let it happen…, “look at me milyy,” he commanded, voice angelic and hard to resist.

“Mhm, you look so good with my hands wrapped around your neck,” Bucky praised, his hand fit around your neck like a necklace. The only one you wanted to wear forever.

While his lips ghosted over yours, his fingertips circled your mound. You whimpered, the brunette always teased you to no end. It was torture, sinful, pleasurable torture.

Two of his fingers entered your tight hole, you squeezed them tight as he curled them inside you. The tightness had him scoffing teasingly, “how can you still be this tight? How often have I fucked you yet huh? One would think I’ve stretched you out by now,” he purred against your mouth.

Oh, how true his words were. Almost every night he would sneak into your room and gift you immense pleasure. At the beginning he had to careful as to not hurt you, the first few times he prepped you until he was able to fully fit inside you.

“I have given you so much, and this is how you thank me?” with a sharp tone he hit your certain spot which had you moan pathetically.

If you could, you would have scoffed, the audacity. He gave you broken promises, countless nights of heartbreak that left you crying yourself to sleep. Those moments seemed to overshadow the good ones by now, the ones you should have had more off.

“Poor guy…how will he take it when you tell him you changed your mind?” his words were laced with honesty, Bucky knew what he was saying and meant every word off it.

The way he massaged your spongy walls made you yearn for more, though your orgasm wouldn’t come easy. They never did with Bucky and if it wasn’t for your current situation you’d preen in every second of it. Now, right in this moment, something was difficult.

“Aww, milyy, my beautiful girl...do you want to come? Tell me I’m the only one, tell me you only love me,” if you weren’t drowning in pleasure, you would have heard his voice waver at the end of the sentence. Bucky didn’t want to lose you.

“You’re the only one, I only love you,” the words melted from your tongue easily, no doubt in your tone.

You shakily moaned as his fingertips pressed against your sweet spot, a tight feeling spread in your stomach. Bucky had his metal fingers still on your throat but you clawed onto his back with compact breaths as you chanted his name over and over again like a prayer.

Nails digging into the white dress shirt that covered his beautiful body, thumb flicking your clit and fingers curling. “Come,” he demanded, letting go of your throat to steady your back, “come on my fingers, show me how good you can listen to me milyy.”

Listen you did, your orgasm came crashing down on you. Even with the blow dryer on your moan would have been heard if it weren’t for Bucky swallowing your mouth with his.

He almost muted your sounds, the kiss made you think you’re in heaven, you wished it could stay like this. Bucking your hips against Bucky’s thigh to create more friction was no use.

As you came down from your high everything downed on you. Lips still locked with Bucky in a passionate kiss, it reminded you of easier times…if they ever were. He was the man of your dreams, but he could never truly be yours.

Still in your little headspace Bucky picked you up and carried you to your bed, he turned off the hair dryer before kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll get you a tea and then we will find a way how you can break the news to Peter,” was all he said and then left your bedroom.

You registered his words slowly, you finally needed to break the cycle. Carefully you walked to the door and locked it, sliding down the hard wood closing your eyes defeated.

Muffled footsteps echoed through the door. Bucky tried opening the door. It didn’t open, again, still closed. With more strength this time, still closed. A scowl overtook his features, “milyy, open the door. I won’t tell you again,” his voice hard and demanding.

“We need to stop, this was the last time,” it was hard saying these words, but they needed to be said, “I’m going to marry him, I’m going to marry Peter.”

Bucky slammed his fist against the door, “no, no. Milyy you won’t, no!” A tear rolled down your cheek at the volume of his voice, why did this have to be so hard? “James leave, please,” another tear grazed your skin.

On the other side of the door Bucky had his forehead leaned against the wood, ‘James’ only you used his first name. Everyone else used his nickname or ‘Mr. Barnes’ but not you, it became special to him and strengthened the bond between you two.

“Open the fucking door,” he sounded demanding – he was. Again, he banged his fist against the door before sliding down like you, his hand pressed to the door.

“Don’t, I love you,” Bucky’s tone was softer now and his voice broke while all your dams broke. Tears streamed down your cheeks, “you have to leave,” you sobbed wiping away the tears, “Bucky,” you said his nickname to underline the importance behind it and the need to act as if there was nothing more than a father-daughter relationship.

Bucky shook his head desperately, it hurt to hear you say his nickname in a situation like this. One single tear escaped his eye, he wasn’t ready to lose you.

Neither one of you were able to sleep that night, you cried yourself to sleep, and Bucky laid awake next to your mother not touching an inch of her.

The next day you avoided him as much as you could, instantly met up with Peter. You spoke with him and a few days later packed your things to move out of your mothers home. She was happy for you while Bucky glared at Peter’s back the whole time.

All he could do was watch you leave, his heart breaking with every piece of you that left. To your mother he acted as if he was just a little sad you moved out, she believed him and loved the whole act of him stepping into the father figure.

The months leading up to your wedding you barley came to visit your mother at her house. Bucky laid awake most nights with you on his mind, his heart completely shattered.

Meanwhile you didn’t feel any different, but the attraction you felt towards Peter helped you. Everyday you animated him to have sex with you, made him go shopping with you, tried being with him every second just so you wouldn’t think of Bucky.

Peter didn’t mind, he enjoyed the time and only fell deeper in love with you.

Your wedding day. It was, finally, your way out. Today you had to face Bucky again, he would walk you down the isle – a wish your mother had. Hopefully everything go well today.

Currently you were getting ready, your maid of honour and mother helping you. They talked to you, how happy they were for you, but all you could think about was Bucky. Why wouldn’t he leave your mind? Today was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, you’re marrying the love of your life…or are you?

“I think I need a minute…alone,” you whispered, letting your head hang down as you fiddled with your fingers. “Of course, honey,” your mom said and kissed your cheek, then moving out of the room with your friend.

As soon as they were gone you sighed heavily, why was it so hard? You wanted to cry but didn’t dare to smudge your make up which took the stylist an hour.

A soft knock caused your head to snap up, you prayed it wasn’t Bucky, “come in,” you announced and to your dismay it was Bucky. You hoped it was your dismay.

“Hey,” he greeted you and closed the door behind him, locking it. “Unlock the door,” you tried to keep your voice strong, to not let him know that he had an effect on you with just walking in the room.

“Please, let us talk,” he begged walking over to you. “We don’t need to talk, it’s too late,” turning your head you looked right into his ocean blue eyes which were filled with hurt.

“It’s not, I love you and you love me,” Bucky took your hands, the familiar feeling of warmth and comfort spreading through your body. “If you loved me you wouldn’t still be married to my mother Bucky,” your voice disgusted at the fact that he was still with your mother and slept with her.

He fell on his knees before you, “don’t call me Bucky, you always say James,” he whispered as his head came to rest on your lap. It hurt you to say Bucky as well, gladly you would go back to James, but it would be wrong right?

“That doesn’t change anything. I’m tired, tired of sharing you with my own mother who only married you for your money and to tell herself she’s still young,” you sniffled as the words left your mouth, you loved your mother, but it was the truth and Bucky went along with it.

“You told me you loved me and then went to sleep in her bed, do you know how much that hurts? I wanted to be with you day and night, but can you say the same?” the tears broke finally free. Until the very end you believed him, it was wrong you knew that.

“Milyy, don’t cry, please. I love you, I know I should have left her and I will, I have the papers ready,” lifting his head he loosened his right hand to wipe away your tears.

You were shocked by that reveal, did he lie? Was he being honest? How could you find out? Why did you even care? You cared because you loved, loved him more than you should.

“I can’t just leave. I risked so much for you, I’m done risking everything for you,” you shock your head. In about thirty minutes you were supposed to walk down the fucking isle and marry, and here you were crying, smudging your make up because of Bucky who declared his love for you and that he was close to divorcing your mother because of you.

“I love you so much, I know what you’re risking but I promise you I’m not lying. This time I won’t stay away, I won’t leave. You are my everything, you’ve been for a long time now and I’m sorry I didn’t show you properly,” both of his hands were now on your face catching the tears. Bucky moved his body up to be face to face with you.

You wanted to believe him, no, a part of you already believed him. After all your body yearned for him and as much as you loved Peter, he was no match to Bucky.

“James…,” hope lit up in Bucky’s eyes as you said his name, his first name, “I love you, but…,” was there really a ‘but’? There should be, Peter is a worthy, ‘but’ he should be the one.

“Milyy I’m done, I will show you how much you mean to me,” words hard he bunched up your dress and vanished under the fabric. You knew what was about to happen as you felt his rough pads dance along your skin.

The brunette pushed your white thong aside, “mhm white lingerie, picked it out just for Peter? For the big wedding night?” his voice was muffled but you were still able to hear his teasing word for word.

He latched onto your cunt without hesitating and groaned as soon as he tasted you, “how much I missed this pretty pussy.” At the deep groan you weren’t able to hold your whimper back, why did he have to be this hot?

With his metal thumb he stroked over your clit, the coolness sending a shiver down your spine. His tongue moved in and out of your leaking hole, the feeling of pleasure consuming your body and Bucky’s sinful words filling your thoughts.

“Oh, milyy have you let him eat your cunt? Let him have a taste of my cunt?” a slap on your sensitive mound pulled an unexpected squeal from you, “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.”

“I did, I let him eat my pussy, I’m sorry daddy,” you whine and oh how quick you were to fall for him again.

He shook his head, mumbling how disappointed he was in you. Still, he let his tongue back to roaming through your cunt, hitting your sweet spot which he found instantly.

As he devoured you like you were his last meal your orgasm approached. A tight knot build up in your stomach, you scrunched your eyes shut only waiting for the blissful feeling to overtake you. Bucky knew you were close, not just your stomach tightened no, your cunt almost imprisoned his tongue.

Bucky’s cool thumb drew circles on your clit before he gently bit his teeth down on your bundle of nerves. A pornographic moan slipped from your lips as a rush of ecstasy crashed into you, it was all it took for you to have one of the best orgasms in months.

With his tongue he guided you through your high, he was proud to have you shaking under him.

Replacing his tongue with two of his flesh fingers, Bucky pulled his head from beneath your dress. “I’m not done with you yet,” a sentence that promised pure pleasure and stilled a need in you.

“You look beautiful in white milyy,” Bucky cooed curling his fingers as he laid his hand back on your cheek, thumb stroking your bottom lip. You closed your mouth around his digit, sucking gently exactly like you sucked his cock.

His head fell back and his dress pants tightened, cock rock hard pressing against the fabric. It didn’t help his case that you, dressed in white was something he dreamed off.

Butterflies erupting in your tummy, you understood him. You missed his cock too much, no one was like, could be like him. Bucky was loosing his patience, retracting his fingers, and moving his hands to your waist. He lifted you onto the table, tugging the top of your breast down exposing your lace covered breasts.

“Would you look at that? Wearing a lace set I bought you, do you think he deserves to see you in it or were you waiting for me? Hoping I’d show up?” Of course, you hoped he’d show up, but you tried to repress the wish.

A scowl placed on his lips, “you dare to wear it for him,” he growled as he undid his pants revealing his beautiful cock.

Your mouth watered at the sight, thick, and the girth is proportioned along his shaft while the head of his cock is even thicker. Mushroom formed head leaking with precum, his pretty curve you’d knew would hit every spot.

Oh, how bad you wanted to suck him off, “hold that for me milyy,” he ordered, holding up your dress. Doing as told you gripped the white fabric, wanting to do everything he asked of you. “Be quiet, we don’t want your mother hearing you…or your soon to be husband. What would they do if they knew you getting fucked by your stepdaddy huh?”

Your mother would disinherit you and Peter would curse you to the moon, but you didn’t care you wanted Bucky.

Slowly he pushed his tip in, already stretching you slightly, “daddy,” you whimpered. Had he been becoming bigger since you last fucked him? A tear rolling down your cheek, however this time from pleasure.

He continued pushing in, the way he stretched you made you feel a kind of pain you welcomed. “Fuck, see? This is what happens when I don’t fuck you enough. You’ve gotten tighter, I need to stretch you again. You will let daddy split you apart won’t you milyy?” Bucky began moving his hips at a slow pace, wanting an answer from you.

You tried focusing on forming words, but your head felt empty, he filled you up too good. A deep chuckle sounded through the room, “can’t believe I already fucked you dumb,” he could believe it.

“Yes, harder,” finally you managed to say something, and it didn’t surprise Bucky, but who was he to deny your wish? His pace became rougher.

With every thrust he hit your spot, god how much he loved the feeling of you clenching your walls together. When he added his thumb into the play you moaned louder than before. He loved the sounds he could drive from you but it was too dangerous right now.

“Keep making those loud sounds and I will have to punish you,” lacing his metal hand around your throat and squeezing it as a warning made your walls clench resulting in your lover groaning.

If your head wasn’t empty maybe you would have been able to bite something back. Even though Bucky was pummelling and destroying your pussy, you need him closer. Wrapping your legs around his middle you brought him closer to you.

His cock hitting deep inside you, without the dress there would have been a belly bulge visible.

“Missed me so much milyy? God, I’m gonna come and let you milk my cock till the last drop,” Bucky was close to the edge, it had been too long since last had his cock buried inside you.

“Come for daddy,” you tightened around him but needed more, something was missing, “fucking come for me, I said,” his tone became harsher, more controlling. Bucky pressed lightly on your throat. That was it the choking, the thumb circling your clit, the way he split you open with his cock.

A pathetic whine left you as you came all over Bucky’s cock, bliss shooting through your veins. “James,” you sighed over and over again, the name music in Bucky’s ears.

“Good girl,” he praised, his pace becoming uneven as his high neared, “milk every last drop of me or I will paint your pretty face with it and let you walk down the aisle covered in my cum.” He didn’t have to ask twice for you to drain him.

He reached his high and let his head fall on your breast to muffle his groan. You accepted every drop of him like you were told, your hands snaking into his hair to keep him where he was.

The last drop came from him, he stilled in your cunt. Endorphins jumping through the air, you’ve never been happier. Bucky, your James was with you again, “I love you, James,” you whispered with a smile. He wasn’t able to keep himself from smiling either, gently he freed his hair from your grasp, “I love you too, milyy,” with joy he locked your lips with his.

Your hands rested on his cheek, the fire and passion you two held still not gone.

Suddenly a knock on the door broke you from the moment you shared with Bucky. With wide eyes you sat up causing Bucky to whimper as he was still inside you.

“Honey? Are you ready? We’re about to start in five minutes, I’ll get Bucky and then we can start,” your mother’s voice could be heard. Everything that just happened downed on you, how could you fall into Bucky again? No, no, no, this couldn’t be true.

Bucky let go of you and pulled his cock out, dripping with you mixed juice. “You have to decide now, leave with me or marry him,” his tone was serious, “maybe this will help you,” reaching into his pocket he pulled out a plug and pushed it into your leaking hole, “wanna make you keep everything.”

Just then you instantly stood up, “this was wrong, you’re lying. You will never leave my mother,” you run around to room, trying to fix yourself.

“How can you be so fucking stubborn. I’m going to divorce her, you get that? I will leave her for you, we can be together. You won’t marry that boy, milyy.” Even Bucky was getting fed up by now, he just wanted you and no one else.

“Those are just words James. You say this and that but when are you going to do something!” You raised your voice, after all this time and he still didn’t understand it.

“You say that now, you will divorce her, but what if I marry Peter. What then? You keep being married to her? As long as you don’t act on nothing, I will marry him,” you couldn’t let him bring you under his spell again just to hurt you. Peter was good for you and acted when he said something.

Bucky scoffed, he was serious. Everything was ready, Steve made the divorce papers, Natasha searched him a new house and the missing piece was you.

“Honey?” your mom called again and this time you answered, “I'm coming!” You gave Bucky one last glance, “will you act on it, James?”

Bucky couldn’t get one word over his lips, he wanted to and he already did act on it, but why was is it so hard to say something?

His silence was defining for you, you shock your head with a glare and walked out to your mother who was excitingly awaiting you, “everything alright?” she asked. You smiled, it was forced but she didn’t seem to notice, “I will walk down alone,” was all you could say.

Your mother was confused, why wouldn’t you let Bucky walk with you? Before she could ask you were on your way and the ceremony began.

Peter smiled, even shed tears as he saw you, however your tears were of hurt instead of happiness. As it began you noticed Bucky coming back in the corner of your eye and whisper something to your mother which left her shocked. A hint of hope sparked in your chest.

Everything went like it should, you said your vows, even were able to say ‘I do’ which to you felt more painful than it should have. “Does anyone here have something against this union? Speak now or be silent forever,” the priest said.

“I do,” a deep, familiar voice said. Shocked everyone turned to the one who those word belonged to, all eyes on Bucky, James, “I have something against it.”

𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑾𝑶 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @jobean12-blog @antisocialwritingx @broadwaybabe18 @waddlenut @buckymcu12 @witchybabel | @ozwriterchick @daemonslittlebitch @alana4610 @hockeybae @ravens-junk-journal

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | @sstanhoe-updates blog where new fics will always be reblogged in case you're not interested in the taglist as it has conditions

#bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #stepdad!bucky #stepdad!bucky barnes #stepdad!bucky barnes x reader #tw stepcest #my cat lover bucky 🦾🤍

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allurilove · 12 days

Note

How would the yanderes react if Reader wanted to keep or take the baby? And it depends on whether the pregnancy was planned or not.

If the baby was planned, they would be happy to learn that their partner was pregnant! If it wasn’t, there are some hesitations, and full on rejections too. But, some would just accept it right away regardless of whether they wanted it or not.

We all know yandere husband and prince doesn’t give a fuck if it was planned or an accident, they’ll be happy either way. Dumb yandere would also be happy, but it’s probably not wise to get impregnated by this man.

Here are some people who wouldn’t exactly be happy if the pregnancy wasn’t planned. And as a little bonus, I also added how many kids they would like to have!

Yandere professor:

-would ideally have only one child.

[not planned]

-the first stage is always denial. He denies that he ever got one of his students—of all people—pregnant. He would try to remember all the times you two were intimate, and if he ever wore a condom. He’s pretty sure that he has, but then again it could break…

-then he gets worried for your wellbeing as the pregnancy progresses and he can see the visible signs. He’s also extremely paranoid that people might know that he’s the father.

Yandere mob boss:

-would want to have none.

[not planned]

-he doesn’t even like kids, but the kids you already have with your ex are fine. He doesn’t really see himself having more than the two kids he became a stepdad too.

-so, it’s a straight up no for him.

Yandere best friend:

-would want two max.

[not planned]

-you getting pregnant would absolutely send him in a downward spiral. He has college to finish, and so do you! He doesn’t know how he’s gonna be able to juggle his studies and a whole ass baby.

-slowly warms up to the idea of starting a family with his crush and best friend.

Yandere knight:

-would want one or three.

[not planned]

-the moment you told him that you were pregnant… he heard the death bells. He started planning his grave right there and then. He already has a kid that he needs to take care of… and now he has another with princess reader?

-vows to himself that he’ll get a vasectomy. He would help princess reader take care of the baby in private.

Yandere prodigy:

-would want none, but if he were to have a kid he would want a girl and that’s it.

[not planned]

-he doesn’t like that he now has a constant reminder that he slept with his enemy. he would also be in denial, and pretend that he hasn’t even touched you at all.

-definitely not happy, but ends up helping out anyways.

Yandere classmate:

-would want two. preferably twins so he can call them “spot” and “dot” i dunno 🤷🏻‍♀️

[not planned]

-Look, he was dreaming about starting a family with you but not this soon. He’s in school, and he has a clean reputation to uphold.

-wouldn’t want reader to keep the baby.

Yandere boyfriend:

-would want to have one and a boy.

[not planned]

-totally freaking out on the inside and trying to be calm on the outside. all he could think about was how he had to work more jobs to support another human being.

-Tries to convince you to not keep it because he’s not financially stable rn.

So, that’s all the people that would be hesitant or reject the idea of having a baby.

Now we’re onto the rest of the yanderes!

-Yandere husband would want to have four kids as the maximum.

-yandere prince would want two and only two. the youngest child would be considered as a backup incase the first one dies.

-yandere chaebol would have two, which he does have with his ex. But he wouldn’t object if he had more.

-yandere farmer would have twelve kids if he could! Lord knows that he sleeps with reader sooo much that he could do that.

-dumb yandere would be the man to somehow end up with twenty kids. he actually never thought about having any, but it would be a pleasant surprise. He would just give reader all the kids they want.

-yandere neighbor would like to at least have two, but none is perfectly fine with him.

-yandere camp counselor would probs be a guy that has like three kids.

-yandere stalker would have one or two. any more and it’ll give him a headache.

#Allurilove asks #yandere pregnancy question #featuring all of the yanderes?#yandere manager cant do the sexy sex time with reader

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confessedlyfannish · 8 months

Text

Masterpost for my DP x DC Writing

Danny's obsessed with protection (the one that started it all), Part Two

Danny knows Catwoman

Danny & Clark talk clones

Quick JL ficlet

Danny is alive, Part 2 (prequel)

Phantom has a package for Batman

Damian has a new stepdad

Jason is kidnapped (also known as the beginning of undead cram school) , My Part Two, My Quick Addition

Bruce visits Sam

Jon Kent has amnesia, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Jazz does a crime or two

TikTok bro

Clockwork asks Bruce for a favor that's demand coded.

shh! Bruce is sleeping.

In which Bruce sues the Fentons

Sam and Danny get interrupted (NSFW)

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steviewashere · 2 months

Text

We need to make Steve Harrington less like cardboard. I am going to ramble, please bear with me. Listen if you want.

He had weird jock habits before. Wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn, goes on a three mile jog, lifts weights in his bedroom. Eats his "normal" breakfast which is like crazy: like four eggs, six pieces of bacon, some raspberries, maybe carrots, a full glass of milk, black coffee, four pieces of toast. He's gotta keep his energy up, y'know. Goes to school with a huge fucking backpack, a gallon sized jug of water, he carries around all of his textbooks because it's like a mini workout for him. Sometimes in lulls of classes or between periods, you'll find him talking to his group of friends, but he's actively stretching/doing yoga—his friends don't even acknowledge it because it just always happens. He eats the exact same lunch everyday: rice, chicken, broccoli, a banana, and a milk from the school. (Dude would love milk. Trust.) He'll do like two more workouts in his day: once in gym, and then whatever sport practice he has (basketball in the winter, swim in the spring, maybe a bit of football/soccer and baseball right before summer hits).

His music taste isn't crazy eclectic, but it's still tasteful. He loves Queen, loves Bruce Springsteen, loves TOTO. He's into the radio hits rock (which is classic now), but his favorite song (so I've heard in relation to the show) is "Hammer To Fall" by Queen—a song that wasn't widely popular on the radio. Yeah, he also likes Elvis; can make a reference when he needs to. But he does enjoy music. And, sure, yeah—he does like pop music; maybe that does include Madonna. And—listen to me—my stepdad, a guy who loves punk and metal and shit like that, he loves Madonna and Wham and George Michael on his own; because that's what was on the radio, he even owned some of these artists albums; it's not that strange for somebody like Steve to also like these artists. Though, they may not be his immediate go-to.

He takes good care of himself; appearance wise. His hairspray is Farrah Fawcett, but it's a product he picked up most likely from his mother. He styles it on his own, right after he works out in the morning. He probably knows how to iron his clothes; considering he wears things like chinos and polos, those things need to look nice and crisp for the babes (and non-babes alike). I wouldn't be surprised if he has a signature scent—like maybe...Calvin Klein's Obsession? Considering his family's tax bracket (that house is insane), he'd probably use high-end salon level hair products. He's using name brand detergents on his clothes.

And, yeah, I'm not sure if he's still living with his parents post season 3, but I think it's safe to maybe assume so—I feel like his parents are more caring about their only son than we give them credit for; his mom seems like a caring mother, as evident with the call she shares with Karen Wheeler, it seems like she'd usually be somebody to know Steve's whereabouts, that sort of thing. His dad is probably the most strict of his parents and has high expectations that Steve fails to meet. Because the high expectations are high. And maybe Steve didn't care too much about school, maybe enough to pass and still make all the teams he wants, but not enough to get him a scholarship. And, honestly, he was probably not a top-tier athlete at Hawkins High; maybe great, but not pristine. Hence why he had to actually try to make it into college, his entry wasn't guaranteed. And when he got rejection letters, probably including rejections for scholarships, his parents most likely denied to pay for him to go through schooling. And if he really wanted to go, he'd have to take out loans or something.

He probably gets Sports Illustrated and Rolling Stone magazines in his mailbox. He smokes Marlboros, the high-end cigarette. He keeps his pantry stocked with name brand snacks; Pringles, for example. Probably tries to cater to those around him, as that's what he saw his parents do for guests. He's not a terribly selfish person at all, despite having douchebag attached to his name. He probably was very flippant about the way he cared about things, he laughed at bad jokes, and snarked his way through Hawkins High. He very rarely threatened violence—my guess, considering he's a shit fist fighter.

The way his parents' marriage is going probably affects his view on love, too. He wants something better than what his parents offer to each other. He wants a true love, fairytale sort of thing. Steve probably thinks that he'll sense some amount of clarity with whoever he gets along with. He's probably a big dreamer. Probably lonely. Wants six kids, a wide and sprawling family because then, at least, he'll have people to always take care of (to prove he is not his parents), and people who (hopefully) will always care about him. He wants a lot with whoever he falls in love with (Nancy or somebody else). But not a lot in material terms; he wants a lot of love, he wants warmth, he wants constant and sweet attention. He wants love. Not whatever bullshit his parents had; and he tries really hard to not be that bullshit, but knows he still fails anyway. He doesn't want quick things, despite constantly dating or hooking up, he wants something to last—though, nothing lasts. That's why he probably leans a lot on Robin, she has a sort of platonic love to him that he shares for her; that platonic love is probably the first time he felt like he had something to cling onto because it wasn't going to just leave or find fault. He didn't lose with Robin because they just got each other in a way he doesn't know how to replicate with anybody else.

With work, he's not sure what he wants. He wants something that keeps his interest, but nothing really has. He seems really in tune with sports, history, and literature—as there have been several attempts of his to make connections to these topics showcased on screen. (Although, admittedly, those references kind of fall short.) He doesn't enjoy work like Family Video, but he finds it easy enough that it becomes a mechanical, mundane task that he can complete without thought. I think, also, due to his interest in sports, he most likely has a vague interest in statistics or math—I think he's accidentally really good with math, but refuses to acknowledge that because he hated math in school. But he has a knack for it, no matter how hard he denies. He's probably also wicked good at working on cars. His Beemer has been through a lot and I think he doesn't trust anybody else to work on his car, so he learns to do it himself, and with the guidance of his dad.

Despite complaining about being the party's babysitter, he quite likes it. Likes being the nurturing older brother that he never had. I feel like he'd maybe get a little bit insecure about it from time to time, though. Maybe he'd feel like he's not doing enough for them to consider him that way. Maybe he'd feel like he's doing too much and forcing his way into their lives. I think, if Max's letter ever comes up again, he'd let those insecurities fall away—I truly feel like she considers him an older brother figure, a real one, a good one. I think he'd cry over it, honestly.

I think he does cry quite a bit. Just not around other people. So it seems like he's sort of constipated in his emotions. But, realistically, he doesn't allow himself that chance to crack until he's in the safety of his bedroom. Because, honestly, I feel like despite the "ugliness" to his oddball room, he finds a sort of sanctuary in it. That's where his things are. That's where his smell is. That's his safe space.

And on the topic of his room, I think he definitely helped pick out 90% of the stuff he has. His wallpaper and curtains match because he looked inside the catalog his mom presented to him one day, and he likes things to match—so that's what he picked. (His mom bit back a sigh and tried to keep her expression neutral. She thinks it was an awful pick, but whatever her baby wants.) His dad sometimes takes him on day trips, and once when he was a kid (maybe middle school age, maybe even as a freshman), they went into some interior decorating store or something and he saw the car picture and knew he had to have it, so his dad bought it. (It jumpstarted one of a few interests they share: Cars.) The bedding was his choice. The mattress and bed frame were not. Everything else in his room was his pick. The bowling pin came from a birthday party when he was a kid, he won it at the prize counter in the little arcade area of their local bowling alley.

He's friends with whoever will spare him the attention he craves. Whoever will laugh at his jokes. Whoever will agree with the stupid shit he wants to do. Whoever will chant as he shotguns another beer.

He drinks and smokes because of Tommy. Steve and his dad had a big argument or something before his dad left for some business conference. So Tommy says they should get into his dad's alcohol and find somebody to sell them cigarettes as a way to rebel. Steve thinks he's being soooo cool (he's being lame). Next thing he knows, he's got a cigarette craving and knows how to shotgun a beer a little too well.

The pocket knife he uses on the beer cans is a gift he got from his dad, probably. One that he received as a birthday present for his 15th or something. His dad probably said something stupid like, "Every man needs a good knife. Never know when you'll need one." It's got Steve's initials carved into it and everything. In hindsight, it's pretty cool and it's custom to him—it's one of the only significant and caring gifts his dad ever gave him.

He doesn't cook like amazingly, but well enough that he could survive living on his own in an apartment. He likes spaghetti bolognese. And macaroni and cheese. He knows how to make a fire meatloaf. Could probably perfect rice and chicken in a heartbeat. But he does sort of rotate the same meals over and over because he procrastinates learning new things sometimes.

He's not stupid, he just takes a little longer to process all the information he's given. And on top of that, he needs the opportunity to ask questions so he can fully understand. He only feels stupid when he's denied the chance. And denied the opportunity to explain or connect. (Connecting like you would when taking margin notes in an article—Cornell style if you know what I mean. Like maybe some of the text reminds you of something in your real life, so you understand the text better by making that connection. That's how Steve connects to things.) So, yeah, I think he's probably a little bruised whenever somebody—yes, even his close buddy Dustin—walks all over him and treats him like a child when it comes to things unknown to him; especially shit that's D&D or Upside Down related, he doesn't know what's happening, but he'd like to know.

Lastly, and then I'll stop talking in your face, I think he would have the most off-putting, morbid sense of humor after surviving the Upside Down. Like sometimes he makes too strong eye contact and makes some crazy fucked up joke at you and then you just shut down. Like it's hard for him to get laughter sometimes because he'll just say odd shit. And then eventually, when people are done being stunned around him, they're like nervous giggling. All the while thinking, "Jesus fucking Christ, Steve. What the hell." He still feels accomplished even when the laugh is barely a sound, he laughs the hardest at his own morbid jokes. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, and even Jonathan think he needs some serious therapy; clock's ticking, might be time to get on that.

But uhhh, yeah. Steve needs to be more than a stiff board of cardboard, we need to do him justice because the duffers sure as hell won't.

#stranger things #steve harrington #my headcanons #rambling

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tvgerl · 2 years

Text

stepdad!jake x fem!reader

tw: stepcest, submission, use of word daddy, smut, explicit, control of stimulation, squirting, fake sub, dom jake, agegap, humiliation, ass fucking.

notes: reqs are open, like or reblog is appreciated

thanks to @kiris-wife for giving me the idea ! <3

Your mom went to a business trip and left you with his husband, she asked him to take care of you, and for sure he would take care of you.

You are riding him so hard, him letting you have the control of the situation is so hot, these new things are simply exquisite, and so is his cock inside you, “Faster honey, let daddy know what you’re capable of” You scream and he does it too.

What you didn’t know was he was playing with you, he loves making you think you are controlling the situation, and seeing how innocent you are. “C’mon you have to beg more for it” You says, and you see how Jake’s face changes, “No more fake domination for you little girl” Fake domination? He was just playing with you, you feel humiliated, but your disappointment face make your stepdad feel more horny than he was.

“Let’s put you in your place, open those cute legs f’daddy” You obey, and he started to suck your crotch, kissing it and driving you crazy, making you to sit on his face, “I cannot handle this daddy i’m coming” He stopped sucking your pussy, and he put you in four, “Suck it, now, and you would get what you want, you have to pay for your actions” You tried to put yourself in another position “What y’doing? Stay in your position” You felt his dick more inside your mouth than every other time, and he was enjoying it.

Yes he was enjoying the moment, he was loving it, and you would do whatever he wants just to let you come. “Enough” You stopped “Daddy wants your ass, so you’re giving it to him” He only fucked you from behind one time, and the pleasure was so big that you can’t remember well anything, he started to put his fingers inside, one, two, three, you want his dick, “P-please put yourself inside” Your mouth couldn't hold back the screams, and some tears started to sprout from your eyes, “Don’t cry kitten, I know you want me” He puts his cock inside your ass and you started to cry and moan even harder, the pleasure was such that your eyes turned white.

“I’m coming Jake, go harder” You whispered, and he didn’t think it twice, he goes so fast, you come and your legs started to shake. Jake didn’t care about it and he kept doing what he wanted until he also finished.

“Don't try to outdo me again or you know what’s going to be your punishment” Oh, sure you'll make him mad like this again…

- The end.

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birdiewriteslit · 1 year

Text

“summer of difference”

chapter one: miss americana and the heartbreak prince

various house of the dragon boys x fem!stark!reader

me writing? since when?? ik it’s been a while but i’ve been thinking about writing a series for house of the dragon! it’s summer, and i’m rewatching the summer i turned pretty, so this is kind of inspired by it? but also not, yk? i’m happy to be writing things again, hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. the boys i’ll be writing about include jacaerys, aegon, and aemond (and this is modern au obvi)

warnings: suggestive/sexual themes

This would be your fourth summer with your brother’s best friend’s family in King’s Landing. Summers here were always so different than the summers back home in Winterfell. Not only was the temperature much warmer, but things were actually interesting in this lakeside town.

You sat sandwiched between your siblings in the backseat of your mother’s Toyota. Cregan reached behind your head to smack Sara’s headphones off.

“Hey!” she shouted, watching the device fall into her lap.

“Quit it, Cregan,” your father warned, not taking his eyes off of the road.

The long drive south was the only thing you hated about this trip. Being the middle child meant you were always stuck in the middle seat. At hour four, you were unbelievably relieved when the road to Rhaenyra’s house finally came into view late afternoon.

A smile appeared on your face as you pulled into the driveway. It was times like these when you were grateful that your brother had rich friends.

The house was huge. It was white with light blue accents and three garage spaces. One of these hosted Daemon’s red convertible, which you had some interesting memories with Jacaerys in.

Speaking of Jace, he ran out the front door as soon as Cregan exited the car, you sliding out after him.

You couldn’t really focus on whatever complicated bro hug they were doing because Jace looked so different.

His hair was long and curlier, and his features were sharper. His smile was bright and perfect as he patted your brother on the back. He had certainly matured since last summer.

As he parted from Cregan, his eyes shifted to you, his smile never faltering. “Wow, Y/n,” he said as he took you into his arms.

You breathed him in. He smelled of salt air and the beach scented candle his mother was always burning. His damp hair brushed against your cheeks as his arms tightened around your waist.

“Gone swimming with out us?” Once you pulled away from him, you gestured to his bathing suit trunks, which had left a few wet splotches on your shorts.

“Yeah, Daemon’s with the boys by the dock,” he explained, then looked over your shoulder at your sister taking her things out of the trunk. “Luke’s inside, waiting for you.” He smirked, glancing at Cregan. You turned to Sara, copying his expression while she rolled her eyes, grabbing her duffel bag.

“You three are so immature,” she said, shoving past Cregan to enter the house.

“I don’t like being looped in with you guys,” you said.

“You’re lucky to be,” Cregan said. “Now help me with all this shit.” He gestured toward the open trunk.

“Watch your mouth, Cregan. We’re guests here,” your mother scolded.

“It’s all good, Gilliane. I’ve heard worse from my stepdad,” Jace said.

“I bet,” your dad muttered.

“I’ll meet you guys inside, alright?” Jace pointed at you and Cregan.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in there,” you said, smiling stupidly.

Cregan nudged your arm. “‘I’ll see you in there,’” he mimicked your words in a high pitched voice. Your face burned as you told him to shut up.

You walked into the house with your bags and brought them upstairs to the blue room. You always shared the room with Baela. The walls and the carpet were different shades of light blue, and the skylight above the bed always made it seem brighter.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Sara fishing through her bag on the ground. “What are you doing in here?”

“Nyra told me we’re sharing this year. Apparently Baela and Rhaena are with their mother for the month,” Sara said nonchalantly.

“What?” This was news to you. Rhaenyra’s stepdaughters were always here for the summer. Baela was your best friend away from home. Your stomach dropped when you realized what this meant. You’d be forced to hang out with the boys all summer, or worse, your little sister.

“I can’t share a room with you,” you said. Sara scoffed and pulled her bathing suit from her bag, going into the bathroom to change. You pulled out your phone and texted Baela immediately.

—

You: how could you do this to me?? why didn’t you tell me you weren’t coming this summer :(

my bae🤍: i’m sorryyyy!! it’s only a few weeks though. my mom thought it was unfair that dad gets us all summer. tbh it is unfair like he doesn’t even hang out with us.

You: mannn you cant leave me with creg and jace

my bae🤍: i don’t think you have a problem being alone with jace lol

You: don’t even start! creg has already reminded me today. it doesn’t help that jace has gotten sooo much hotter since last year.

my bae🤍: please refrain from talking about my brother like that. and btw NOBODY has forgotten about it.

You: thanks for that. i ran upstairs so i wouldn’t have to face nyra and daemon again. i’m literally gonna die from embarrassment.

my bae🤍: don’t worry, nobody brings it up in front of dad and her. rhaena, luke, and i just make fun of him when they aren’t looking. you should see how red his face gets. seriously, it’s hilarious.

You: ughhh i was hoping this would just go away

my bae🤍: nah you’re never living this down

You: he hugged me and i swear to god i heard a taylor swift song playing in the background

my bae🤍: i bet it was lover lol

You: more like miss americana and the heartbreak prince

my bae🤍: y’all are so lover shut up. PLEASE update me tonight if anything interesting happens. i am fucking devastated that i cant watch you guys reunite.

You: you’ll get over it

—

You rolled your eyes at her last text and set your phone on the bed, beginning to unpack your items. A knock on the doorframe made you turn around. Rhaenyra stood there, a soft smile on her face. “You didn’t even say hello to me.”

“Sorry, Nyra. I wanted to see Baela as soon as possible,” you lied.

“Ah, well, you’ll see her in July.” She sat on the bed in front of you and placed a strand of hair behind your ear. “How have you been, sweet girl?”

You grinned at the nickname, almost sighing from relief that she wasn’t even thinking about the incident from the last time you were here. “Really good. I’m happy to be back here, though.”

“I love having you here. You’re my favorite girl. I hope you know that. Don’t tell your sister.” She winked.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“You know, I always hoped you would be my future daughter-in-law,” she said cheekily. Your eyes widened as heat crept up your neck. “Only teasing, my dear,” she said, standing up from the bed. “Get your suit on, Jace wants you to come tubing.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, turning to fumble around in your bag.

This is a little tight, you thought as you exited the basement and walked on the stone path to the dock.

You initially bought the bikini because it was your favorite color, but now you felt a little self conscious about the amount it revealed. You grabbed a life jacket from the bench on the dock and hopped onto the boat.

“Put that on, Y/n. We’re going first,” Jace said, wearing the same smile from earlier, and eyeing you up in a very unsubtle way.

Butterflies surged in your stomach. You would be alone with Jace for the first time in nearly a year. But does it really count if you were being dragged behind a pontoon boat with water spraying into your faces and both of your families watching you? You wouldn’t say so.

Nevertheless, you were still nervous when you felt his eyes on you.

Cregan, Sara, Luke, and Joffrey were already on the boat, all thoroughly intrigued by their favorite reality show, aka you and Jace.

Daemon untied the boat from its posts and gently pushed it away from the dock, jumping on with your father following suit.

“Rickon, you spot while I drive,” Daemon said, and your father nodded. Their dad fits were impeccable on this afternoon. Matching sports sunglasses with cargo shorts and shirts that sponsored separate breweries was definitely the move.

“You aren’t driving, Rickon?” Jace said, sounding worried.

“Nope. My shoulder hurts from, uh, weightlifting.”

You snorted at his fake excuse. You knew he just didn’t want to do it, based on all of his complaining during the year. He claimed it stressed his muscles too much.

“It’s my boat, kid. I won’t whip you if you can’t handle it,” Daemon taunted.

“I can handle it,” Jace said firmly. “Come on, Y/n.”

Rickon pushed the pancake tube off of the boat and held the rope tightly as you and Jace climbed on. As he slowly let go of the rope, letting you drift out into the lake, you said, “Why the fuck would you tell him we can handle it? He’s going to fling us like 50 feet into the air.”

Jace grinned evilly at you. “I said I can handle it. Not my fault if you can’t.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Have you forgotten what happened last time he drove the boat? I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

“He was drunk that time.” Jace shrugged.

“He’s worse sober!” You gripped the handles tighter as the boat began to move. “Seven hells,” you muttered.

The boat quickly sped up, and soon you and Jace were bouncing across the lake. The motor combined with the rush of water was loud in your ears, the spray cold and nearly blinding.

Daemon swung the boat around and the tube flung out to the right, you screamed while Jace laughed hysterically.

“Jace, oh my God, what is that?” you yelled, looking at an upcoming wave.

“I think that’s your downfall,” Jace shouted.

“That’s not fucking funny!” The tube bounced up over the wave, flinging you and Jace off and into the water.

The water came up over your head before the life jacket brought you back to the surface. You breathed in deeply and pushed the wet hair away from your face.

You looked to your left and saw Jace about ten feet away grinning and shaking his wet hair. The boat was turning around to come fetch you both.

You quickly swam over to him and grabbed onto his shoulders, dunking him from behind. He was coughing when he came back up. “You bitch!” he said as you laughed.

“That’s what you get,” you fired back. He raised his hands and splashed water in your face. You spit out what got into your mouth and splashed him back.

“Get on the boat, lovebirds!” Sara called, laying on the sundeck as the boat approached.

“Shut up, Sara,” you said, casting your eyes down to your legs treading water. “And speak for yourself.” You glanced at Luke, who knelt on the seat behind her. She stuck her tongue out as you climbed the ladder onto the deck.

You made your way to the front of the boat, taking off the life jacket and wrapping yourself in a towel. “Cold?” Daemon asked.

You glared back at him. “Clearly.” He smirked and called out to Sara and Luke, making sure they were ready for the hell he was about to put them through.

Jace sat next to you after grabbing his own towel and two sodas from the cooler. He handed one to you before draping his arm across the back of your seat. Cregan and Joff sat on the opposite side of the boat, the younger one absentmindedly playing with the buckles on his life jacket.

“Why didn’t you go with me, man? Now I have to go on the slow ride,” Cregan complained, gesturing to Joff.

Jace shrugged. “Baela isn’t here, and I couldn’t leave my favorite girl hanging,” he said, squeezing your shoulder.

Cregan rolled his eyes and pretended to retch when Jace wasn’t looking. You motioned for him to stop as Jace looked back at him when the boat started moving.

You slipped out of Jace’s grasp and went to sit at the back of the boat to watch your sister and his brother get tortured by Daemon. It didn’t take long for Sara to go flying through the air, screaming Luke’s name as she went. He whipped his head around to watch her splash in the water, accidentally taking his hand off the handle and landing a few feet in front of her.

Your father reeled the tube in as Daemon turned the boat around to fetch them. Creg and Joff went next, their ride relatively uneventful. The perpetual frown on your brother’s face made you feel better about him teasing you the whole day.

Daemon slowed down and rode back to the dock with them trailing behind. Your father reeled them in while Jace and Luke hopped off the boat to tie it to the posts.

“How was that?” Jace asked, grinning at you as you walked up to the house with him.

“Exhilarating,” you said, giving him an annoyed look.

“My girl, always so adventurous.” He said it sarcastically, but your heart always skipped a beat when he called you his girl. You smiled nervously as he opened the door for you.

You shivered as the air conditioning hit your bare skin. “Why is it always so cold down here?”

Jace shrugged. “Daemon is a diva. He always has it on.”

You laughed. “He needs the best of the best.”

“No less,” he agreed, following you up the stairs.

When you entered the kitchen moments later, your mother immediately scolded you for dripping water on the floor.

“Oh, she’s fine. My boys do it constantly. Look at Jace doing it right now,” Rhaenyra countered, continuing to stir the contents of the pot in front of her.

“I walk in the room and I’m a victim,” Jace said, sitting on one of the barstools.

“Don’t sit on my stools in that wet bathing suit. You two, go shower and clean up for dinner,” Rhaenyra commanded.

“Yes, mom.” Jace stood from the stool and followed you down the hallway.

You left him at the bottom of the stairs as you hurried up the steps to gather your things for your shower. Sara wasn’t there yet, probably still outside with your brother and the boys.

You headed to the bathroom and felt instant warmth when you stepped into the shower. You washed your hair and body, and once you were done, you were so happy the smell of lake water was gone from you.

After getting changed, you left your wet bathing suit on the bathtub to dry, and exited the bathroom. Sara was laying on her cot in her semi-wet swimsuit when you got there, watching TikToks on her phone.

“Finally,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “You were in there for like thirty minutes.”

“Time escapes me,” you said, plopping down on your bed and pulling out your phone to do the same thing she was doing.

There was a text from Jace in your notifications.

J: Night swim tonight??

You: i just showered i don’t want to get back in the lake

J: Where’s your sense of adventure from earlier?

You: long gone

J: Pleaseeeee

You: fine but only because you asked nicely

The real reason you agreed was because you were hoping he would talk to you about what happened the year before. So far, he had made no move to bring it up, but maybe all it took was being alone with him.

You sighed into your pillow and opened TikTok to distract you from this situation. After a good thirty minutes that felt like five, you were being called downstairs to eat by your brother.

“Smells good,” you said, entering the kitchen and grabbing a plate.

“Thank you, darling,” Rhaenyra said, patting your back as she moved past you into the dining room.

“Man, I’ve been waiting all year for this.” Cregan proceeded to fill his entire plate with spaghetti and meatballs, drowning it in parmesan cheese.

“Save some for the rest of us,” you muttered, grabbing a piece of garlic bread.

You took your plate into the dining room and sat down next to Luke. Jace and Cregan sat across from you two, with Daemon and Rhaenyra at the ends of the table. Sara sat down on Luke’s other side, your parents on Rhaenyra’s end of the table. Joff, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya all sat at the foldable kids table. You stared wistfully at the empty seats at the adults table that were usually reserved for Baela and Rhaena.

“So,” Luke said to you, hardly disrupting the conversations of the other people at the table. “I hear you got your license. Are you and Jace planning on taking another spin in Daemon’s car, if you know what I mean?”

You nearly choked on the piece of spaghetti dangling from your mouth. Of course, you knew what he meant. The sly fucker just had to bring it up at the family dinner. Luckily for you, Jace was occupied with eating like a starved man on the other side of the table. Daemon was one empty chair away from hearing Luke’s remark. You thought he wasn’t listening, but it was hard to tell when he was eavesdropping.

“You better shut your mouth right now before someone hears you,” you said quietly, holding your fork at him threateningly.

“Does it matter if they do? Everyone heard you last year. It might’ve been embarrassing for you but it was downright traumatic for me,” Luke said.

Jace had successfully cleared his plate at this point, it was impressive, really. He had his attention turned towards you now.

“What was traumatic?” he asked.

“No, Jace. Do not even ask,” you warned.

“I think I’d like to know,” Daemon chimed in, smirk on his face, not even bothering to look up from his food.

You gave him a horrified look that contradicted his unbothered one. Luke shifted uncomfortably, no longer having fun. He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not talk about it at the dinner table.” Liar.

“That’s what I thought,” Daemon said coolly, twirling his spaghetti in a rather unsettling way.

“No, seriously, what?” Jace pushed, utterly clueless.

“Drop it, Jace,” you warned again, an embarrassed heat rising up your neck.

Seeing the look on your face, realization dawned upon him. “Oh,” was all he said as he cast his eyes to his plate, the leftover marinara sauce the same color as his cheeks.

Luke snickered to himself, and you kicked him under the table. “Jesus, Y/n, what was that for?” he hissed. You only glared in return.

Soon enough, everyone finished dinner, and you dragged your feet to your bedroom, collapsing on the bed. You were stuffed and tired, but you promised Jace a swim tonight. All you could do was hope that it wouldn’t be awkward.

You went on your phone to pass the time until nine, which was the usual time you met up with him for your night swims. Sara was passed out in her bed when you swiftly left the room to change.

When you got down to the dock, Jace was already in the water. He slicked his wet hair back with his hand as grinned at the sight of you. “The water’s warm, get in.”

“Look what I’m doing,” you said, going down the stone steps and slowly entering the water.

“Come on,” he said, nodding his head to the raft about twenty feet from the boat. He started swimming towards it with you in tow, trying to ignore how tired you felt from the long day.

He climbed the ladder and laid down on the raft. “I thought we were going to swim,” you said, laying beside him.

He was quiet for a moment, staring up at the stars, leaving the crickets and other night animals to fill the silence. He turned his head and met your eyes. “I don’t really care what we do. I just wanted to hang out with you. I missed you, you know,” he confessed.

“I missed you too, Jace. We have all summer to hang out together.” And hopefully sooner or later, you would sort out your unspoken history.

“Even when Baela comes back?” he asked tentatively.

“Even then. I’ll always make time for you.”

He smiled and looked back up at the sky. “Let’s just stay out here for a while.”

You nodded and looked away from him, gazing at the stars instead. You expected to come out here and have an awkward conversation about the incident from last summer, not pick up where you left off. Why wasn’t he bringing it up? You knew he hadn’t forgotten, but why wouldn’t he talk to you about it? He was always so open, so forward with you.

As you laid together on the raft, he looped your fingers through his, and you were all but transported to the year before.

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mattybstqrn · 5 months

Text

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐂.𝐖

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎

Female Reader x Cole Walter

Y/n Y/l/n also known as the 'poor girl' lives with her parents and older half-brother, Dylan, who is very popular since he's on the football team.

The four had started living together a few years ago, when Y/n's mom started dating Dylan's dad. Y/n's mom was a drunk ever since your dad sadly passed. She had relied on alcohol and then met later on met Dylan's dad and started to get him into drugs and alcohol as well.

Whenever they were really drunk which was most of the time, they'd get really angry and pissed over stupid things and take their anger out on you. You'd go to school with bruises and cuts, that you tried your best to cover up. Dylan would also abuse you, not physically but emotionally. Your parents always favored him because he was popular, which you hated.

You're also the only one in the family who had a job, both your mom and stepdad didn't have any jobs, they spent their days laying down and drinking. You worked at multiple places, Monty's, a diner with Kiley, and you babysat as much as possible.

Your parents relied on you to put food on the table and to buy them drugs, and you just wished it would all stop. You couldn't wait till you were eighteen so you could get far, far away from this place.

You had a plan, work as hard as possible in school and at work, save up for a car, and when you had enough money to move out, you would, whether it was in Colorado or somewhere else, you just needed to get out of that hell hole. Pretty short plan, but it worked. You just wanted to be happy.

You were just sitting in your room studying for a test when your mom and stepdad came in and started yelling at you, asking for money. You always had to show them your paycheck, but you secretly had three jobs, not two like they thought, you had a stash of money in your room for yourself, somewhere they'd never look and all the other money they'd either take or you'd use to buy groceries.

When you told them that you had already given them the money and how they used it all, they started hitting you and yelling horrible things at you, you couldn't help but cry, and they just got so mad that they told you to leave. They kicked you out.

And when you tried to kick them out of your room, which you did, you locked the door and started packing a bag as tears ran down your face, you grabbed some clothes, your secret stash of money, phone, charger, laptop, homework that you still needed to finish, and when you were done you left through your window just as they started to unlock the door.

As you climb down your window you realize how hard it's raining, you didn't have a car, or a bike, so you ran, you ran as fast as you could all the way to the Walter's. Your real dad and George Walter were great friends in high school and before he passed, and he always checked up on you; he promised your dad to be there for you whenever you needed someone, so you just knew that he would be there for you today.

He did promise your dad after all.

The Walter house wasn't that far from yours. Your legs burned as you ran to the front door in the pouring rain, you looked for your phone, but it was dead, and your clothes were soaking wet, thankfully your clothes on top of your laptop, homework, and your money that was in a medium sized Ziploc bag.

You looked down at your watch and saw that it was 11:32, you saw a light on and figured that someone was up, so you knocked on the door, not wanting to ring to doorbell and wake everyone up. You peaked through the windows and saw Katherine, George and Cole all awake.

You moved away from the windows and waited for someone to open the door, a few seconds later Katherine did. Her eyes moved up and down as she saw you standing there soaking wet, "Oh come in, come in," she rushed you not wanting you to sit in the pouring rain, "Cole," she turned around calling her son, "Run upstairs and get Y/n a towel and some nice warm clothes," Cole walks over to the steps and see you standing there soaking wet, he rushes upstairs to find a towel as Katherine brings you into the kitchen telling you that you should take a shower.

You walk into the kitchen to see George making tea, he walks over to you and hands you a mug and asks, "Are you okay?" you hesitantly nod in response, "What happened?" Katherine concerningly asked as you take a small sip of the hot tea, you then start to explain to them what happened.

Usually when you tell people what happened you feel... embarrassed, but you trusted Katherine and George and you knew they would never make fun of you or make you feel bad, you knew you could tell them anything. "My mom and Dylan's dad came barging into my room drunkenly asking for money, per usual," Katherine and George looked at each other shocked by the words that had just came out of your mouth, they never knew that your parents acted like that, but you ignored their looks and continued as you stared down at your cup of tea.

"They wanted money to buy drugs, and when I told them that they used it all they got so mad and they just started hitting me and telling me how horrible of a daughter I was, that Dylan was an amazing and reliable son while I was nothing-" Katherine cut you off and spoke, "You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and they have no reason to say those horrible things to you, and I'm so glad that you came here, you did the right thing, okay? you can stay as long as you'd like," they smiled at you, meanwhile you put on your best smile as the two hugged you, they didn't care if you were soaking wet.

Cole then came downstairs as you guys pulled away, he held a towel, and a pair of clothes, he handed them to you while you thanked them, Katherine then led you to the shower, telling you that if you needed anything she and George would be in their room, you nodded and thanked her again and then took the hottest shower of your life, you were freezing cold and you were also sad, and still wished your dad was here, if he was none of this would've happened.

After crying in the shower and changing into your new clothes, that looked like Katherine's, you went downstairs, Katherine had a room for you to sleep in, but you decided to go downstairs and make some more tea, you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so you planned to stay up and just try and relax, when you walked into the kitchen you saw Cole sitting at the island with two cups of tea, "Uh, I made you some tea," he scratched the back of his head, jerking his head towards the mugs, "Thank you," you were shivering and he could clearly see it.

You gently picked up the mug and took a sip as Cole drank his in silence, the two of you had never had a conversation, you had seen him every day in school admiring him from afar, but you never talked to him and never told anyone about your tiny crush on him, you knew people would make fun of you for liking someone who would never like you back so you didn't say anything to anyone not even your best friends.

"Are you okay?" he asked, you looked up from your cup and up at him, "Yeah, I'm fine," you nodded, but he knew you were lying, "You're freezing," he pointed out, "C'mon," you followed him as he made his way to the fireplace and started a fire for you, once again you thanked him and sat down in front of the fire with your tea as you watched the flames move and the wood burn, you loved the smell of wood burning, for some reason.

Cole grabbed you a blanket and handed it to you, "Thanks," you smiled at him as he sat next to you, "Do you wanna talk about it?" you wanted to say no, but you thought it might be nice to talk about it to someone, "Sure," you shrugged, "What happened?" his tone was filled with concern, which you found weird in a way, why would he be concerned if you guys weren't even close to friends.

You then started to explain everything that happened with a lot of detail, and some backstory. Cole was shocked, he never knew that you went through that, "Family should never treat their daughter like that," he tells her, you hum in agreement, "Yeah,"

"Oh, Dylan's gonna regret doing that," he says referring to the things you told him Dylan would say to you, standing up in anger "No, Cole, please don't, you'll just make him pissed and who knew what will happen next," you beg him, following him around as he paced back and forth, "Fine," he huffs out, "He should never treat his stepsister like that," Cole then starts to get angry, but you tried your best to calm him down.

You forcefully sat him down in front of the fireplace, as you were still a little cold, "This probably isn't the best timing but I think you're really pretty, and I-I think, I think I'm falling for you," you look at him with confusion and shock written all over your face, what? when? you asked yourself, "Is this some kind of joke?" you ask him, you didn't think he would ever do something like that to you, but you were genuinely confused, "What? no, no Y/n, I like you a lot," he admitted, you looked at him, you-you believed him.

"I like you too," you confessed.

Both of you smiled at each other, neither knowing what to say or do, you were just happy, and Cole was too.

After sitting in a comfortable silence for a few minutes Cole speaks up, "Do you want to watch a movie?" you look at him a nod, "Yeah, yeah, I 'd like that," he stands up offering you his hand, which you gladly accept and follow him into the living room. The two sat on the couch and watched the longest ride.

They snuggled on the couch, you felt safe being in Cole's arms, safe enough to fall asleep, so as you tried to stay up and watch the movie you slowly drifted off into a deep sleep. Cole glanced down at you as you sleep on his shoulder, you looked peaceful, and he desperately wanted to join you, but he also wanted you to be more comfortable, so he slowly stood up and lifted you up bridal style and took you to his room where he gently laid you down on his bed.

Before Cole can leave to go sleep downstairs on the couch, your eyes slowly open, seeing that he's leaving you ask him, "Can you stay with me?" he looks at you with a smile nods, "Yeah," he gently lays down next to you and get comfortable, he pulls you closer, gently kissing your forehead, you still being half awake mutters, before drifting off to sleep "I love you, Cole Walter,"

Cole looks at you shocked but with a smile, "I love you too, Y/n Y/l/n," he kisses your forehead one last time before snuggling into the crock of your neck and drifting off to sleep as well.

#my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #cole walter x reader #cole walter

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achaotichuman · 7 months

Note

Do you think you could write about dehlia in this context: https://www.tumblr.com/praetorqueenreyna/737196004108058624?source=share, hopefully featuring deadbeat at first mom feyre, horrified stepdad rhysand, tired of it all tamlin and a supportive lucien/eris.

This has been sitting, marinating in my drafts. But it is finally complete. I am fully aware I fucked up the timeline here, but I'm not rewriting all of this, so we're gonna pretend that fancy Fae tests can reveal a pregnancy at four weeks instead of eight like the post said.

And disclaimer before anyone calls for my head, for this fic I am also rewriting Ianthe's character, because she is too interesting for me to just write off as a sex offender and never think about again. Also, it is very interesting to see her as a genuinely morally grey person with good intentions. So, in this fic, she never SAs Lucien, but she does get a cool plot twist so stay tuned for that.

Basically, I have turned this into a rewrite of Acomaf and Acowar. A lot of the events were written from pure memory, and asking Tumblr, so forgive me if some scenes from the OG series were left out or written significantly differently. We mostly got Feyre's version of events anyway, so I'm not too worried.

This will be split into several chapters. Three being for the Mist and Fury rewrite, and then two for the Wings and Ruin rewrite. And if I have time, I'll do an Acofas rewrite. I'll be uploading all three of the Mist and Fury chapters today, and linking them in this post. You can also find it on SquidgeWorld here, and Ao3 here.

Anyway, here is the long-awaited fic, anon. And @r-biter, thank you for the original post, I hope I do it justice. Also @praetorqueenreyna who reblogged the original post.

Also, did I turn this into a Tamcien fic? Yes, of course I did.

A Field of Dahlias

“Are you alright with this?” He asked, it may have been the hundredth time he asked, Feyre gave him the same exasperated eyes she had given him all night long.

Everything pointed to her being more than alright with this. Him pressed into the sheets below her, their clothes forgotten on the floor, her eyes glazed with lust. The rush of new hormones in her head no doubt fuelled the arousal that was now pressed against his wet slit. She leaned down, teeth a touch sharper than normal. She kissed his neck, dragging her canines along his fluttering pulse like he would for her.

She ran her now larger hands down his slightly smaller than normal frame. Hands finding his breasts and squeezing relentlessly, pinching his nipples, her rough fingers, calloused from years of work from before she had been turned fae. Tamlin bit down on his lip, not wanting the whimper that pressed against his vocal cords to be released. A part of him still didn’t understand the switch in the power dynamic and begged to flip her over, to shift them both back to normal and continue this the way he knew well.

But he didn’t, he remained underneath Feyre. Her chest flatter, set a touch wider, her shoulders broader. Her hips, now more narrow, rocked forward ever so slightly, as if on their own accord, as if her body was begging to bury the length now resting between her legs into the tight warmth before her.

“I’m fine, more than fine, like I’ve said a hundred times already.” She added an eye roll to the last part, Tamlin countered it with his own.

“Fine, but if you want to stop at anytime-”

“Are you okay with this, Tam?” She asked, hands becoming more gentle, roaming his skin like she loved it, like she cared.

It was still new, the loving and the caring, the likes of which Tamlin hadn’t felt in years.

“I’m okay.” Tamlin said, forcing his voice to remain steady. He loosened a breath, then spread his thighs wider.

“Well?” He asked, adding a grin to his words, “Lets see how sloppy your form is, wicked creature.”

Feyre gave him her own wild grin, eyes filled with that lust and love. Something caring and devoted in her face, she leaned down and put her face into the crook of his neck, licking at the skin in a careful, deliberate manner.

“Let’s see how well you hold up, Faerie Lord.”

***

Tamlin shuffled a few papers on his desk. Briefly glancing over all of them before sorting them into piles and picking up the one closest to his left. With nimble fingers he paged them apart and began to read each complaint. A sigh escaping his throat.

He tried to ease the worry sitting low in his belly but it wouldn’t relent, as the pile of complaints grew higher, the headache pounding behind his eyes tightened.

After he was done reading the letters, he moved to open a drawer in his desk. Then the feeling of his stomach lurching overwhelmed his senses. Nausea made his legs shake, he retched, then quickly slapped his palm over his mouth before winnowing to the nearby bathroom.

He had all of about three seconds before he was bent over the toilet, vomiting until he was shaking so badly he could barely stand on his knees. He dry heaved for a minute before finally his body relented and he slumped back, panting heavily, beats of sweat gathering on his forehead.

“Gods dammit.” He cursed, forcing himself to his feet and quickly cleaning up.

As he rinsed out his mouth, a pain shot up his spine and the sickness returned with a festering wrath. Tamlin groaned, a low sound from the back of his throat, he gripped the sides of the sink.

***

It didn’t relent, the sickness came and went throughout the days. Tamlin thought he could handle it. Thought he could make it through the seemingly endless hours without anyone knowing something was amiss.

“Two of you will head for the south border and I will send another group towards-” Tamlin was cut off by bile rising quickly in his throat, burning him from the inside out. He couldn’t get another word out before he sprinted back inside. Leaving five very confused sentries outside.

He rushed past several servants, all of which stopped to stare in concern. Tamlin ignored all of them.

It was Alis that didn’t stare. Rather broke into a sprint after him. The Summer Faery found Tamlin practically doubled over while he emptied the contents of his stomach. Alis snapped in a gasp, then quickly ran over to pull back his hair, sticking to his face from sweat.

“Tam…” She murmured.

Tamlin could barely see, the world tipping from one side to the other.

“Why are you staring?” Alis shouted at somebody, or somebodies at the door. Tamlin had enough sense to look back over his shoulder. He saw several servants who were loitering at the door, wondering what exactly was happening.

“Leave this instant, go back to your duties.” She shouted, then quickly slammed the door, everyone scattered as quickly as possible.

Tamlin panted as he sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the ceiling, “Gods.”

“Tamlin, are you alright?” Alis asked, helping him onto his shaking feet. He wanted to shove away from her and insist he was fine, but he was still getting his bearings back and the world was too bright, and he had a headache.

She led him to the sink and coaxed him into washing up. Tamlin splashed his face with ice water, and rinsed out his mouth. Then he looked up to see the mirror.

Gods, he hadn’t realised how little sleep he had been getting until he saw the deep purple under his eyes. The gauntness in them, along with his too pale face, made him resemble something of a ghost.

“I…”

“Tam.” She murmured. Putting a hand to his forehead, the rough bark of her hands rubbing against the soft skin. She furrowed her eyebrows, “You don’t have a temperature.

“I’m fine, Alis.” He said.

She breathed in deeply, face carefully controlled, “You need to see a healer. I will call for one-”

She turned to leave, but Tamlin took hold of her wrist. The light shining from Faelights in the bathroom too bright, he was so tired.

“I don’t need a healer, Alis. It’s nothing.” He told her. Ignoring the image of himself in the mirror, ignoring that fact he knew very well that he did not look fine.

Still Alis wouldn’t go against his orders. She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, her eyes cast downwards, “Just… fine then. Just please see one if this gets worse.”

Tamlin bit down on the inside of his cheek, but nodded all the same.

***

It got worse, and there wasn’t anything he could do to hide it from anybody too close.

So he locked himself in his study or his room, and tried to focus on anything else. Anything other than the constant headache pounding behind his eyes. The never-ending wish to lay in his bed and sleep until his days ended, and the constant vomiting.

It didn’t relent, instead it worsened.

Alis found him again. In the bathroom in his room. When she spotted his hair, dirty and tangled, eye bags even darker and skin paler than ever. She narrowed her eyes, but quickly tied back his hair. Once he was done, she told him, “We’re getting a healer.”

Tamlin wanted to protest again, but he was so tired. So he said nothing, instead he slumped against the nearest wall and closed his eyes.

Why was this happening? Now of all times, when he needed to be alert for his Court. For the people who were still recovering.

“It’s just stress.” Tamlin told Alis as she put a dampened cloth to his forehead.

“I would still like for you to see a healer.”

‘I don’t believe a word you say’, is what that meant. Tamlin chuckled, but the sound was hollow.

“Alis, I-”

“Hush now, child.” She murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face as she sat down beside him, “I’ll call a healer, we will figure out what is happening.”

It felt too familiar. Like the days spent in his childhood when he and Alis would sit on the ground in the gardens, whilst she sang him songs in a language he didn’t know at the time. A language she had taught him, so he could sing with her.

It was too nostalgic. He didn’t deserve to feel that love again. That deep rooted, innocent love, it belonged to the child that hadn’t been stained by the world.

It belonged to the kid that hadn’t been ruined in every sense of the word.

Alis didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She took in her hands three strands of blond hair and began to weave a braid.

“It’ll be okay.” She assured him.

Tamlin scoffed, he felt her fingers pause in his hair, so he mumbled, “Nothing seems okay now.”

Alis tilted her head slightly, to see his eyes better. Her brown irises rose to meet his green ones. Alis reached out, her rough fingertips caressing the side of his face ever so softly.

“It will.” She whispered, “It will get better, Tam.”

***

The healer that he saw was named Heilda, she was a short sweet-faced lesser Fae with fluttering mosaic wings and short near white curly hair. Her eyes were all black and her teeth were sharpened. Tamlin was sitting in her office, in a small cottage in the middle of one of the busiest villages, close to the Manor. One of his hands rubbed his temple while the other tapped his leg.

Lucien had dropped him off at Heilda’s residence before leaving to inform Alis he had indeed gone to the healer and not run off. Tamlin had then insisted he didn’t need to, but the headache came back, and Tamlin was powerless to stop the determined redhead.

“How long has the vomiting been happening?” Heilda asked.

The High lord bit the inside of his cheek, quickly thinking back on the past few months since they left the Mountain, “Give or take a month and a half.”

She quickly jotted that down in a leatherback notebook in her hands, then asked, “I’ve also been told you’ve been experiencing severe headaches? How long has that been happening?”

Tamlin shrugged, “I’ve had them all my life, just recently they’re occurring more and more.”

Heilda nodded as she jot notes down in her leather book, before turning to a variety of medicinal herbs and bottles of strangely coloured liquids.

She rifled through a few before taking a mortar and pestle and began to grind a mixture of dried plants and herbs, asking questions as she did.

“Have there been any recent changes in diet?”

“No,” Unless Alis was slowly poisoning him, but he didn’t think her the killer type.

“Drinking water regularly?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been sleeping properly?”

Tamlin almost answered yes, then he remembered the nightmares that riddled his sleep, “...No.”

“Alright, that could be one cause, but from the extent of your headaches I’m inclined to believe there could be something else.” She took the herbal mixture and went to a fireplace where a small cauldron bubbled incessantly, “I’d like to run a few tests, my Lord.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He said.

She took a blood and urinary sample. Tamlin waited for what felt like hours as she put them through several tests, mostly mixing strange things together and watching what happened. Occasionally noting reactions. Tamlin was bored out of his wits, staring at the ceiling, Heilda had given him some strange purple tea, it eased the pressure in his head and the nausea in his stomach, thankfully.

There was a light rapping on the door, followed by a very familiar voice, “Lady Heilda, I was sent by Alis.”

“Come in, Lord Lucien.” Was all Heilda said, not looking up from her work.

Lucien opened the door, his eyes immediately drawn to Tamlin and the drink in his hand. He nodded to it, a silent question, Tamlin just shrugged and jutted his head in the direction of Heilda.

Lucien sat down in a chair beside Tamlin, “How are you doing?”

“Better since drinking this thing.” He said, showing Lucien the painted mug. Lucien nodded.

“What's happening now?” He asked.

“Heilda’s running tests, hopefully we’ll know what’s causing the nausea, we can fix it, then be on our merry way.” Tamlin said, drinking the last of the strange tea.

That was when Heilda clicked her tongue, “I don’t believe this is a problem we can simply fix, my Lord.”

She spun around in her chair, “I believe this problem will be a bit bigger than originally considered.”

Lucien and Tamlin furrowed their brows, glancing at each other before eyeing the healer worriedly. It was Lucien who asked, “And what is the problem exactly?”

Heilda took in a breath, seemingly steeling herself, as if on instinct, Lucien took Tamlin’s hand in his own. Holding him tightly.

“My Lord,” She said, addressing Tamlin, “Have you shapeshifted into a female form, sometime within the last five or six weeks?”

Tamlin was taken aback by the question, he blinked at her, hand tightening in Lucien’s, “I mean… yes, but I’ve done it before, I don’t know how it could cause any issues. Especially not…” He counted the weeks since that night with Feyre, “Six weeks later.”

Now Heilda snapped in a deep breath, “This may be an uncomfortable question, but did you have any penetrative intercourse whilst in female form?”

“You’re right, that is an uncomfortable question.” Tamlin said, blinking at the healer like she had grown a second head, “That shouldn’t have anything to do with my symptoms.”

“Just trust her, Tam.” Lucien said, squeezing his hand in an assuring manner.

“I just need a yes or no answer.” Heilda said gently.

Tamlin sighed deeply, eyes squeezing shut, “Yes. Feyre is a shapeshifter as well.”

Heilda nodded, then leaned back in her chair, “Did you use any contraceptives this night in question?”

Now Tamlin gritted his teeth, “What does this-”

“Tam.” Lucien said gently. Tamlin looked over at his friend and sighed.

“No, we did not.”

Heilda nodded, then she rubbed her hands together. Wringing out her fingers and cracking the knuckles as she crossed one leg over the other, “Okay. What I’m about to say may be shocking.”

“Just spit it out.” Tamlin said, finally and fully fed up with these riddles and strange questions.

“Alright,” Heilda looked between Lucien and Tamlin, Lucien tightened his grip on Tamlin’s hand.

“Congratulations, Lord Tamlin Fairburn, you are pregnant.”

One heartbeat, then a dozen. Tamlin stared at Heilda like she had two heads and a tail. Lucien had gone completely white, the fire lord looked as though he was about to pass out.

Heilda looked between the two, she smiled, then clapped her hands as she wheeled her chair away, “This is what happens when you don’t take contraceptives.”

Tamlin laughed, he laughed hard, nearly falling off his chair. He gripped Lucien’s hand so tightly he could feel his bones grinding under his fingers, Lucien didn’t pull away regardless. The Fox remained silent whilst Tamlin fell into hysterics.

“No!” Tamlin said, pushing himself back into his chair, “No, no, no. I am not- I am not at all. That is wrong!”

Anger now pressed through the hysteria. Heilda sighed like she expected this reaction, turning around she looked over at Tamlin, “Listen, you were in a female form and you-”

“I am not now aren’t I?!” He shouted, standing up from his chair. His sudden motion snapped Lucien from his daze. He quickly stood up and wrapped an arm around Tamlin’s chest. He made to wrap his free arm around his stomach, but suddenly didn’t. When Tamlin looked at him the Fox was breathing deliberately slowly, staring at his abdomen with an unreadable expression.

It only served to piss Tamlin off even more. Heilda, unlike the two before her, stayed calm, her voice soft and gentle when she replied, “No, but you can still retain a womb in this form if your magic allows it.”

“I shifted back the morning after!” Tamlin shouted, “This should’ve never happened! You are wrong!”

“I’m not, and I think you know I’m not. Spring thrives off of fertility magic, your magic protected the foetus growing in your womb.” Heilda replied. So casual as if this happened every other day.

Tamlin stammered and stuttered, trying to figure out someway around this. Some loophole or information that would directly challenge this. Like if he wished hard enough he could prove her wrong. Like if he managed to get angry enough, he could make this go away. Tamlin eventually looked to the floor. Beginning to process the information for what it was. For exactly what it meant.

“I recommend shifting back into the form of a female, it will make this more comfortable.” Heilda said, her voice still so gentle. It stopped making him angrier, and as the initial shock and denial wore off, the world began to tip from one side to the other. Lucien held him up. The red-head’s fingers intertwined with Tamlin’s.

“Is there anything else, Heilda?” Lucien asked, his voice a soft murmur behind Tamlin, yet a dull vibration in the face of the ringing in his ears growing with each passing second.

“Bring him back for some more tests once he’s processed this.” Was all Heilda said. Tamlin was caught between wanting to wake up from this as if it were a dream and wanting to rip her throat out for being so casual about this.

Only Lucien murmured his thanks. Tamlin considered cursing out the healer, but his sudden lack of energy made that impossible.

In the future he would thank Heilda for being so calm, for now, he hated her for it.

Lucien and Tamlin were silent as they left the healer’s office. Lucien kept his hand on Tamlin’s, gently leading the way as Tamlin was still reeling. Barely thinking, he couldn’t hear much besides some of Lucien's gentle murmurs and promises that they would figure it out.

But as Lucien made to winnow them he suddenly stopped, eyes wide, face pale, hands shaking. Tamlin furrowed his brow whispering, “What?”

“Can-Can I winnow you? That won’t hurt…” Lucien bit his lip as he made a quick gesture to Tamlin’s belly.

Tamlin snarled, his fangs a flash of white. He ripped his hand away from Lucien’s and marched in the general direction of Rosehall.

“Tamlin!” Lucien called out, quick to follow him, “Tamlin you can’t just storm off!”

“Watch me!” Tamlin turned around and screamed at him. Lucien stopped dead in his tracks, his nose scrunched as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Don’t scream at me, I’m only trying to help!” Lucien told him.

“I don’t need your help, Lucien! I don’t need you!” It was a dirty lie, because Tamlin needed Lucien more than air. Especially now. He felt his legs shaking, he wanted to fall to the ground. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and rage and throw things. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to go back to this morning when this didn’t exist to him.

Tamlin didn’t wait to see Lucien’s reaction to his venomous words, he turned around and continued to storm away.

He didn’t get far. Lucien appeared behind him and picked him up. Holding him in bridal carry. Tamlin yelled and thrashed, spitting curses at him, some of which he had forgotten he even knew.

“Put me down!” His voice was drawing attention from passersby, but Lucien didn’t put him down, just waited.

“Lucien fucking Vanserra let go of me!”

“Stop being a dickhead and I will.”

“You-”

“Tamlin.” Lucien warned. The tiniest hint of a growl in his voice, something about the way he said it made Tamlin stop squirming. The glare of death in the High lord’s eyes never left but he gritted his teeth and stopped moving.

“Good.” Lucien said, putting him back on the ground, but keeping two hands on his shoulders.

“Tamlin, we need to deal with this.” Lucien said, his eyes hard, his face unforgiving.

“I know-”

“No, you will try and ignore this until you are physically unable to any longer, and then we will be unprepared. You and I are going to talk about this, and form a game plan.”

Tamlin’s eye twitched, “Then can you wait until we get back to Rosehall?”

“We will walk back.” Lucien said as he let go of Tamlin and plucked a paper and pen from the space between realms. The red-head scribbled something down before sending it off. Tamlin knew it would be something to Alis to say they would be returning later than expected.

Tamlin’s hands once again curled into fists. He took in a deep breath, “I have shapeshifted, a little magic will not hurt.”

Lucien’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, “We don’t know that Tam.”

Tamlin laughed quietly, at what he didn’t know. The world was going so fast, at the same time it came to a complete halt.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Tamlin asked quietly.

Tamlin stared at nothing, vision slowing like a haze was settling over his bones, a dark mist that made everything seem so far away.

“Hey.” Lucien murmured, taking the High lord’s hands in his, “We’ll figure it out.”

They walked. Over the rocky cobblestone paths and through the blooming gardens abounding through Spring, the smell of pollen wafted through the air, mixing with the scents of sweetened coffee and baked goods. The sun was speckled over the ground by the constant clouds passing overhead. Gentle breezes caressed the delicate petals of roses, lilacs and lilies.

Tamlin resolutely stared at the ground ahead, each footstep deliberate and careful. He could feel whenever Lucien’s watchful eyes flicked to him. The High lord wrapped his arms around himself, releasing Lucien's hand, and made sure to not so much as flick his gaze to his emissary.

Eventually it felt like Lucien got the message and looked ahead as well, the clicking of his eye never directed in Tamlin’s direction. Finally Tamlin looked at him, to see Lucien with his head held high and facing straight ahead. His red hair a banner behind him in the breeze. His stride never faltering.

Tamlin felt like a newborn foal next to him, not so graceful and elegant, more clumsy and foolish.

Then a sound filled his ears, one that made him stop dead in his tracks. Tamlin quickly snapped his gaze to his left, looking across a nearby field, filled with a plush blanket of white, purples, pinks and reds, there he saw a gaggle of children. Some lesser Fae, others High Fae. All blowing on dandelion fluff and laughing until they fell to the ground. Two boys with purple skin and big black eyes, chased each other with worms on sticks. A girl with delicate fluttering wings carefully placed a flower crown on a girl with pointed ears, freckles and ginger hair.

Another two girls threw mud onto each other, ruining the delicate lace of their baby blue dresses. And one boy, much smaller than the rest, with wispy brown hair laughed until he fell onto his back.

“Tam?” Tamlin didn’t look at Lucien as his eyes were captivated by the children of his Court playing without a care in the world.

One hand scrunched in the fabric of his trousers, strands of blond hair were picked up by the wind, fluttering over and around his face.

Lucien walked back to stand beside Tamlin as he saw what had halted him. The Fox of Prythian reached his hand out and wrapped Tamlin’s in it.

“It’ll be okay Tam.” He whispered.

“Dahlias.” Tamlin rasped, voice breathy and shaking.

Lucien hummed in confusion and Tamlin pointed to the field, “The field its… the flowers are all dahlias.”

A heartbeat of silence passed them by, floating along like a butterfly on the wind, Lucien squeezed his hand ever so slightly, “A field of dahlias.”

***

The rest of the walk home was less exciting. Mostly Tamlin stayed caught in silence whilst Lucien broached the harder topics that would later need more discussion. The complications of having an Heir of not just Spring, but of the Cursebreaker, so quickly after Amarantha’s reign had come to a completion. Even Feyre was not completely settled into her new body as a High Fae, and certainly not settled into her new role at Court.

Tamlin wouldn’t dream of putting a singular extra duty on her shoulders that she didn’t need to have to stress about so soon after all had been said and done. But he had to admit they needed more publicity, something for the rest of Prythian to see that Feyre Archeron was the Lady of Spring, the saviour of the Mountain, and the Warrior who sent Amarantha to her grave.

He didn’t want her to be a show pony, only to be paraded to see her achievements. She had said it herself on a number of times that she wanted a quiet life. But if a baby was now on the way-

No, not thinking about that.

He didn’t want to think about ‘it’ , he wanted to think about how to get Feyre properly settled. Then how to stabilise the Court, and regain what had been stolen and lost to Amarantha. He needed to focus on the Court right now.

The sight of Rosehall came into view and Tamlin felt a heavy weight settle over his shoulders, he spoke to Lucien while his eyes examined every detail of his home. “Organise dinners, celebrations, prepare for the upcoming holidays. Pay special attention to the farmers, whatever they need, send it to them. The doors of Rosehall are completely open to the public and any that come in seeking refuge from other Courts. And Lucien.”

Tamlin stopped and Lucien halted as well, his brown eyes meeting green, “Make preparations for the tithe, we need to get it back up and running. We are barely holding on as it is, with everything Amarantha has done we cannot afford the losses that have hit us.”

Lucien nodded, Tamlin went on, “Most of the money and jewels from the treasury were stolen and until we send people back under the mountain to retrieve what they can we are on a tight budget. Every coin goes straight into the refugees, the farmers and the villages that have lost their homes.”

“Of course, but Tamlin-”

“The people are in low spirits and the magic will sense that. Spring thrives off of fertility and celebration from the Fae. I haven't even seen the wisps since before we went under the mountain. Until the native creatures of the land return we are in emergency mode. I want a list of everyone we lost to Amarantha, I need a spreadsheet of the damages and the costs necessary to return everything to its former glory, until we are back to normal we will not rest-”

“Tamlin Kali Fairburn!” Lucien eventually yelled.

Tamlin blinked, then he blinked again. Lucien gritted his teeth, the light hitting the emissary in just the right way that his skin seemed to glow with his frustration, “You are stressing yourself out for no reason.”

Tamlin gawked at that, “There is a reason, our Court is still half in ruins-”

The fire lord marched forward and put his hands on his shoulders, “And I will help you to restore it. But you cannot try and handle everything yourself.”

“I am not trying to do everything myself-”

“You are thinking of everything at once, when you need to calm down.” Lucien’s head fell, he took several deep breaths, “Listen, Tam. Like it or not we… you are now responsible for another life.”

Tamlin bristled at that, fangs starting to point through his teeth. Claws pressed against his skin, threatening to burst through.

“Tamlin.” Lucien said slowly, “I know you don’t want to think about this, but that doesn’t change the fact that Spring is…” Lucien took another steadying breath, like he was falling apart at the news himself, “Spring is having an Heir.”

There were the words that crushed Tamlin even more. This… it wouldn’t be just another baby, but an Heir of Spring, a possible successor. A potential future ruler of the Spring Court.

They had no choice but to think about this.

“We will take this one step at a time.” Lucien moved his hands down to clasp his friends, thumbs rubbing the backs of his palms.

Tamlin stared down at the dark fingers massaging gentle circles into his skin. He closed his eyes, the headache pounding harder. He was so fucking tired.

“This is awful.” Tamlin whispered into the space between them.

“I know Tam.” Lucien murmured, his voice near drowned out by the sounds of laughter in the distance.

He felt like he might collapse. A headache pushed into his temple. He noticed a flicker of movement, and then saw that it was in fact a butterfly, small and blue and clueless. Making laps around their heads.

“It’ll be okay.” Lucien reassured him. It was false, they had no idea if it would be okay.

***

It was not okay.

It was absolutely not okay.

He had a headache all the time and sleep became a luxury he apparently could not afford. All of a sudden complaints pushed from all sides as bandits began to infiltrate the Southern and Western borders. Seeing quick money and easy blood to draw.

Many of the servants and sentries had left the grounds for other Courts in order to visit family after the Curse’s conclusion. With quickly hired, inexperienced staff, the grounds began to descend into chaos.

Not to mention how everyone was coping. That being barely.

Nowadays even into the dark hours of the morning, every hall was lit and not a single room didn’t have some form of a faelight and an open window. No one wished to be forced back into darkness, and everyone needed the reassurance of open, blowing air.

The second Tamlin had stepped foot back into his office he was thrown back into work. Now, days didn’t end until he was near passing out from exhaustion and they started the second the ray of first light hit his face.

He wasn’t the only one. Lucien he barely saw anymore, as much as the Fox of Prythian attempted to check on him, they both lost all sense of time. Unable to keep up with their workloads and desperately attempting to pull the Court back into order.

With everything going on, Tamlin had yet to tell anyone about… it.

Alis had tried to push for answers, but even with all her stubbornness, the female knew when she had to back off. The quick snappish answers and flare in temper were enough to tell her, it wasn’t time for her to ask what happened that day with the healer. But Tamlin could tell she was worried.

With everything happening. Tamlin had forgotten the last time he even so much as laid eyes on Feyre.

He was sure he saw her during the nights at some point, but as everything merged into a dazed blur of work, work, work, he couldn’t be sure.

That wasn’t even including the constant strain from symptoms.

Vomiting, and headaches were just the start of it. At times he could barely keep his eyes open even after hours of sleep. If he stood too quickly, all blood rushed from his head and black spots filled his vision. Random outbursts became more prevalent, everything setting him on edge.

"Dear Gods," He cursed, rubbing his temples. Elbows planted on his desk. Tamlin screwed his eyes shut as yet another wave of throbbing crashed over him.

There was a light rapping at his door. Tamlin didn't need to look up as the door opened to know who it was. The scent of cinnamon spice was enough telling.

"Tam." Lucien said tenderly.

Without opening his eyes, Tamlin said, "Lucien Vanserra, if the next words out of your mouth aren't, here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate, I will toss you over the border and back into Autumn."

There was a heartbeat of silence.

Tamlin wouldn't throw Lucien back into Autumn, Tamlin quite liked Lucien.

He would very possibly steal and hide all of his left shoes. Lucien was fully aware of that.

Lucien left the office, and when he returned, he opened the door saying, "Here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate."

Indeed, he was carrying a tray with a giant chocolate chip cookie and two mugs of steaming hot chocolate that made Tamlin's mouth water when he saw them.

Lucien is a smart man. Everyone should be like Lucien, Tamlin thought.

Setting the tray on the dark wood coffee table by the empty fireplace. Lucien sat down on the green velvet lounge.

Tamlin left his desk and joined him. Settling into the soft fabric and hands immediately reaching for said cookie. Lucien smiled softly as he took up his mug.

"Heilda said it would be more comfortable to shift to female form." Lucien said as he absentmindedly toyed with the handle. His voice was soft as he broached the subject, not wishing to provoke anger.

Tamlin bit into the cookie and nearly moaned.

To shift into a female form. To stay like that. It would raise eyebrows and suspicions. And good Gods, when he started to show-

No, not thinking about that.

"So?" Tamlin asked. He knew he had to listen, he had to take into account the possibility of having an Heir for the Court.

Gods, an Heir so soon. They just came out from Under the Mountain. It was all still fresh, too fresh. He could still see her eyes above him. Pushing him down into the sheets-

No.

Not thinking about it.

"So..." Lucien traced the rim of his cup with his finger, "Perhaps you should think about listening to her."

Tamlin's eyes snapped to Lucien's to find the fiery male staring right back. He lifted a perfectly groomed red eyebrow and waited for a response. One leg crossed over the other and head held high.

Lucien didn't back down for anyone, not Beron, not Amarantha, and certainly not Tamlin.

"Or perhaps I won't." I am a grown male, and I will make my own decisions, did not need to be said for Lucien to get the gist of it.

"She is the professional, Tam." He hummed.

"Don't call me that." Not now. Don't be gentle with me.

Lucien put the mug down on the table, it banged as his hands didn't bother to control his strength.

"Alright, this has gone on long enough." Lucien said, "We need to do something about all of this."

"What do you want to do exactly?" Tamlin snapped, temper flaring.

"Gods above." Lucien rubbed his temples and Tamlin wanted to throw something.

"Come up with a goddamn game plan, Tamlin. I want to know what the next moves should be. I mean, have you even told Feyre?" Lucien bounced his knee up and down. Tamlin thought that at any moment he might get up and start pacing.

"Well I- there isn't anything that can be done Lucien!" Tamlin shouted, finally beginning to snap. He hated this. He wanted to be done with it.

And he hadn't told Feyre. He didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about it.

Like if he refused to so much as think about it, it wouldn't exist.

Lucien opened his mouth, eyes blazing and preparing to yell. Then he cut himself short and snapped his mouth shut. Face falling back into carefully crafted blankness and eyes losing any emotions at all.

Tamlin's claws nearly shot through his hands. Fire blazing through him, not just because of the subject at hand, but because of how easily Lucien put his mask on. Hiding his true thoughts so well.

Tamlin wished for the courtier mask, but no matter how hard he tried there was nothing he could do to hide himself.

Fuck this all.

"You need to tell Feyre," Lucien said, crossing his arms. Relaxing back into the lounge, as nonchalant as ever. Tamlin hated it.

"I don't need to do anything." Tamlin hissed.

Lucien chuckled and claws finally pierced to the surface. He dug them into pillow beneath them, slowly counting back from ten.

"What is so funny?"

Lucien picked up his mug again as he shook his head, "Sure you don't need to do anything Tam."

"Get out!" Tamlin shouted.

Lucien rolled his eyes, he put his mug down and slid off the lounge gracefully. A swagger in his step as he left the room, as he passed through the threshold his hand caught the door. He tossed a seething smile over his shoulder and said, "Figure it out on your own then, but figure it out, Tam."

Lucien slammed the door shut before Tamlin could yell at him.

***

Feyre wasn't happy. She didn't know when she started feeling this way, when the total weight of how she felt finally settled into her bones. Like mist in the morning, it descended slowly until she was consumed by it.

She couldn't look the Fae around her in the eyes anymore. Not without seeing the Faeries she had stabbed. The boy's screams filled her eyes at every ring of a bell or snap of a tree branch.

And dear God, the girl who had prayed before she had ended her life. The words seemed carved into her skin, she heard them in the laughter and song of the Priestesses that came in groups for lunch after long days working in the Temple. Every time those swishing robes passed her by, she remembered that prayer.

One of the Priestesses had taken a special interest in her. One of the twelve High Priestesses. Feyre knew little of how religion worked in the Fae Lands. The idea of Gods and such had never interested her. She had worked for too long back in the cabin to spend her time thinking of them.

And if they did exist certainly the Mother was laughing at her.

As of now, Feyre stared out at the gardens. She was sitting by a small table on the porch, watching dahlias sway in the wind. The grounds were covered in them, they had been a flower Elain had grown back at the cabin and then at the new manor they resided in now. One of the only plants Feyre could pin-point.

"I thought I might find you here." A voice said, breaking the silence. Feyre looked back over her shoulder and despite herself a small smile graced her lips.

"Good morning Ianthe, shouldn't you be at a ceremony or such?" Feyre asked.

Ianthe chuckled, her voice and sweet face reminded Feyre a little of Elain. But her overall demeanor and strange stoniness reminded her of Nesta.

"No, the girls are handling everything this morning. I have a break."

Ianthe strolled over to where Feyre was sitting. She pointed to the chair opposite of her and asked, "May I?"

"Please." Feyre said.

Ianthe gracefully slid into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. She did not wear her robes this morning. Her body still completely covered. However, the layers of her dark blue dress were lighter to account for the warmer weather this morning. A pale blue silk scarf covered her head so only a few curling blonde hairs fell around her face.

"Did it hurt? The tattoo I mean." Feyre eventually asked. The tattoo of the phases of the moon, they interested Feyre. Whilst she now had a swirling tattoo along her arm, that one had been stained magically.

Violet cruel eyes. Taunting hands and a laughing voice.

No. Not thinking about him.

Ianthe watched the swaying gardens as she answered. Her face was not cold, but it wasn't warm either. Like a stoic mother, Feyre thought.

"Yes, but it was worth it to be given this honour." Ianthe answered.

Feyre hummed, "Did you always want to be a High Priestess?"

Ianthe chuckled, finger tracing her knee, "My, my, many questions this morning."

The Archeron sister stiffened for a moment, "You don't need to answer if it makes uncom-"

Ianthe lifted a slender hand, she turned her full eyes back to Feyre and smiled, "I am teasing Feyre."

"Oh."

"As for your question, I always knew I wanted to be part of the Court. I worked well with the others. And I knew I could help this Court, the way the former High lord ruled he..."

Ianthe cut herself off as a darkness filled her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a straight line. Feyre furrowed her brow, concern beginning to creep in, "He...?"

Ianthe quickly shook her head and straightened, pulling herself from her thoughts, "He just... He wasn't a good male and I knew I could do something to help. As for becoming a High Priestess specifically I-"

Now a soft smile adorned her face as she lifted her eyes to the white sun's rays.

"I have always had an affinity for the Mother and her creation."

Feyre turned her own eyes back to the dahlia flowers. Blooming prettily as if not just months before the Spring Court had been ravaged and left in ruins.

"The world is going back to normal." Feyre noted.

Ianthe laughed suddenly, and Feyre snapped her eyes back to her.

The High Priestess shook her head and murmured, "Nothing will ever be normal again."

"You weren't even here for the fifty years," Feyre pointed out, recalling what Lucien had told her before. How Ianthe's father had sent her and her sisters to the continent right as the curse was hitting.

At her words Ianthe balled her dress up into her fists, "You don't know my story."

"Then tell me." I will listen, Feyre wanted to say.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ianthe watched her. Blue eyes like sapphires in the light, "You won't understand."

"Try me."

A shake of her head and an amused smile, "Count the blessings you have flower, appreciate them. For at any moment, they can all be taken."

Feyre blinked. Then her face fell into deadpan.

What was it with Fae and their riddles?

Ianthe threw her head back as she laughed at Feyre's confusion, "Flower just know not to take the word of Faeries at face value."

Ianthe leaned back into her chair and Feyre asked, "Can you guys just... tell me what you mean?"

A sly smile and glinted eyes, "Now where's the fun in that?"

***

She hated her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror as Ianthe carefully placed a crown of daisies and dahlias in her hair.

"Why dahlias?" Feyre had asked.

Ianthe had shrugged, "You seemed to like them."

They had gone through enough dresses to last Feyre a lifetime. She had never liked dresses and today did not change that. She longed for something she could move in. Felt like restricted in. But she sucked it up.

Ianthe had brought in a myriad of different dresses for her to try. To find one she liked best.

"Do they all have to be so..." Feyre had gestured to large puffy sleeve and Ianthe had snickered.

"For the record these were the former Lady of Spring's dresses."

Feyre had gone very, very still at that. Guilt shocking through her at how she hadn't liked the look of them.

Ianthe had then rolled her eyes, "Do not fret, child, the Lady hadn't particularly adored them either. But it is tradition to wear the dresses of the former Lady. This were the Lady of Spring's before hers, and before hers. Now they will be yours."

Ianthe had then reassured Feyre, "Just for today at least, then they'll go back into a bag and into the closet to sit for the next several centuries."

Feyre had laughed suddenly at that, and the knot of anxiety welling in her stomach had begun to ease.

Feyre had then rifled through the atrocious amount of fabrics. And eventually her hands landed on one particular dress. It was the biggest of them all, with an atrocious amount of tulle, lace and puffs. It was beautiful, Feyre could admit as much as that. But it was... so much.

Feyre had bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh. Then she had looked at Ianthe whose eye was twitching as she pursed her lips, desperately keeping her own laughter down.

They met each other's sights and were helpless but to fall into hysterics.

The dress had been laid on the bed, but Feyre had decided on a far simpler one. Long, green silk simple sleeves, and a high neckline that opened just above her cleavage. The corseted part of the dress was embroidered with gold designs and tightly hugged her waist. Her far too small waist. As Ianthe had tied the back her eyes flicked up to Feyre in the mirror, hands still on the strings.

Feyre had looked down, Ianthe continued and neither spoke of just how frail she had become. The High Priestess occasionally opened her mouth to say something, just to snap it closed. Ianthe didn't appear to know how to comfort, how to reassure. So, she didn't try.

Now the look was complete. Feyre watched herself in the mirror. The long green skirts of her dress swirled as she moved.

"There." Ianthe said. Feyre met her eyes in the mirror.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

Feyre didn't answer. She thought back on that day in the field when Tamlin had proposed to her, how happy she had been. How in so long the memories of Under the Mountain hadn't haunted her.

Yet after all was said and done, it all came back. All had asked to show them the ring and expected her to gush about the future wedding and her engagement. Yet all enthusiasm had drained from her. Like the second Tamlin was not directly in front of her she no longer felt that passion any longer.

It was just nerves. Nothing else. Once this day was said and done it would no longer bother her.

"Yes."

Ianthe nodded, her eyes firm and set on Feyre through the mirror. A heartbeat passed and Feyre said, "We best be going then."

As she moved to leave. Ianthe put her hands on Feyre's shoulders, "One moment, my Lady."

The Cursebreaker furrowed her brow but remained still. Ianthe didn't break eye contact as she swiftly pulled a necklace out from underneath her robes. It swung from her neck, a beautiful green emerald that shone in the light. It was small and hung from a golden chain.

Feyre blinked, opening her mouth to ask what was happening. But Ianthe answered her question, as she unclasped the necklace and swiftly placed it around Feyre's throat.

"Ianthe-" Feyre started.

"Take it, Cursebreaker." As she let it hang from Feyre's neck she murmured, "You may need it."

"Need it?" Feyre whispered.

Ianthe just smiled, "Trust me."

"You said yourself not to take the words of Fae at face value." Feyre countered.

"I did." She stated.

Before Feyre could once again point out the blatant hypocrisy, Ianthe said, "Try to see past the person, Feyre. Try and see what may lay underneath."

***

He hated his reflection. Standing in front of the mirror whilst Alis fixed his hair and jacket burned a flaming rage deep in his core, but there was little he could do. Other than stand still and allow the Summer Faery to do her work.

"You look very handsome." Alis smiled up at him as she stepped back, admiring her handiwork.

Tamlin tried to give her a smile back, but he could only manage a weak nod as he stared at himself.

Shell of a person. Eyes sunken from lack of sleep, skin unnervingly pale, gaunt, hollow.

At least the suit was well made, tailored, green with whites and golds. Alis had braided flowers through his hair and dusted his face with just the slightest of makeup, she told him it was for the look to come together perfectly. But he knew it was to coverup the deadness in his face.

The lesser faery opened and closed her mouth. Eyebrows furrowing. Tamlin nearly groaned.

"What is it, Alis?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, brushing away a speck of lint from his shoulder. Tamlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I am sure." He said, finally turning away from that godforsaken mirror. He faced the door of his bedroom. Lucien stood there. Dressed to the nines in green. Far more understated than Tamlin but just as gorgeous.

"Ready?" Lucien asked.

Tamlin shifted under his piercing gaze. The Fox scrutinized every inch of him, he was on display, wholly and completely.

"I'm fine." Tamlin settled to say. He wouldn't admit how he felt sick to his stomach and the fluttering of anxiety was threatening to send running to bathroom to throw up once again.

He held strong. He wouldn't be made weak. No matter how weak he truly felt.

Lucien didn't believe that for a second. But he said nothing as he moved from the doorway and said, "Well then, the wedding is on in less than five minutes."

Feyre hesitated from her place at the end of the aisle.

Her eyes agitated, hands shaking. Tamlin held his breath. She looked beautiful, but Feyre was always beautiful. A ring of flowers adorned her head, her eyes held the wedding venue before her.

Ianthe was the one she watched; Tamlin risked a glance at the Priestess who watched Feyre closely. Slowly she raised a hand, and with a soft voice beckoned, "Come, Lady of Spring."

Feyre loosened a breath, her chest rising and falling with measured, calculated breaths. She took a step forward and Tamlin's chest constricted. He sucked in a breath, and she took another step forward. The knot pulled tighter and tighter.

He remembered when she had been dragged in by Attor. Tossed to Amarantha's feet.

Panic had filled him. He had nearly fainted. Surely, she wasn't there, because he had sent her back. She was back in the human lands there was no possible way for her to have come Under the Mountain.

Yet there she had been.

The image faded in and out. Shifting from Feyre's perfect, unmarked face to the bruised snarling face she had worn that day so many months ago.

She took a step forward.

He was going to throw up.

Then she took a step back.

For a second, for a fleeting moment, the knot in his chest loosened and he felt like he could breathe again.

Then she took another step back. The knot tightened once more.

Eyes widened, and whispers erupted in the crowd of Fae.

Fuck.

No.

Like a rope pulled him forward, Tamlin took a step towards Feyre. The world slowed to one moment in time. She stumbled further back, shaking her head. And Tamlin stepped further into the aisle.

Something snapped in her gaze. She turned on her heel and sprinted.

There was a gasp, and hot white rage flew through the High lord. Filling his veins, breaking something that had been pulled taut for too long now.

He nearly launched into a run after her.

"Tamlin." Lucien hissed, as he lept forward and pulled Tamlin back.

Tamlin turned around to snarl at him, but in a second they were gone. Winnowed.

Tamlin shouted into the darkness that enveloped them. And by the time they landed he was screaming curses at the red head. Lucien didn't seem to care.

They were in his study. The window were open and sunshine was pouring in. Yet the house was empty as the grounds descended into chaos as the groom and bride had each disappeared.

"Why did you-" Tamlin shouted, but Lucien snapped.

"She was running away, what were you going to do?! Grab her and force her to marry you!" Lucien shouted, whilst pointing a finger into Tamlin's chest.

"You-"

"Don't start with me Tamlin! We will find her, but for now calm the fuck down!"

Tamlin blinked, initial rage simmering into something else entirely.

What just happened.

In the span of a few seconds, he had gone from jittering at the altar, watching his bride, then watching her run from him as he attempted to go after her.

He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because Lucien put a hand on each of his shoulders and guided him to the lounge.

"Sit." Lucien ordered, Tamlin obeyed. Staring into nothing, mind horribly blank.

Eventually one smaller thought came to mind, "I thought I wasn't allowed to winnow."

"You can in short distances, I spoke to Heilda. But she recommended it be someone else doing to actually winnowing."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Lucien sat down on the arm of the lounge.

"What do I do now?"

Lucien stared at him and for the first time said, "I have no idea."

***

"Feyre!"

Feyre didn't respond to the call. She crossed her arms and pressed further back into the trunk of the tree she was sitting in. Her knees bent, keeping her curled into the branch and just out of sight.

"Feyre oh sh- Mother lead me." Ianthe hissed as she caught herself from cursing, "Where is that girl?"

Feyre craned her neck to look down. She saw Ianthe holding up her pale blue robes in one hand and her shoes in the other as she trod through grass and mud.

"Feyre! I know you're out here somewhere!"

Somewhere indeed, currently right above her.

Ianthe screwed eyes shut and sighed deeply, "Couldn't have run somewhere inside, no we had to go out into the forest."

Despite the guilt and shame, the anxiety and hurt knotting and writhing in her stomach, threatening to make her lose her breakfast. Feyre chuckled.

Bad decision, as Ianthe straightened, her fae senses alerting her to the sound.

Ianthe whirled her head back and forth, "Feyre?"

Feyre had the muffle her laughter with the palm of her hand. But it wasn't enough to escape the hearing of the High Priestess.

Finally, Ianthe furrowed her brow and looked right up. Her confusion fell into deadpan as she saw the Cursebreaker nestled in a branch.

Mouth pursing, Ianthe gripped her robes a little tighter then asked, "Flower why are you in a tree?"

It hit her again.

As she had walked down the aisle. Seen the people, the faces staring and waiting. Seen Tamlin watching her. Then had seen Ianthe.

Permanant. Permanently stuck here. Permanently with the memories. Seeing everyone watching, like they had watched Under the Mountain.

That prayer had rushed through her head again. And she saw their faces when she stabbed them.

"Feyre?"

Feyre looked back down to Ianthe, but gritted her teeth and did not answer.

"Feyre." Ianthe said, deadpan, "Do not make me climb a tree."

Still Feyre remained silent whilst she brooded on her branch.

Ianthe's eye twitched. And finally she sighed heavily, mumbling something about the Mother punishing her.

"Fine! Fine." She said, dropping her shoes and letting her robes down from her hand.

Then Feyre watched as the pristine, tidy, and uptight High Priestess of Spring, grabbed onto a branch and planted her foot into the trunk. Climbing the tree.

She nearly slipped and fell, a curse nearly falling from her lips before she caught herself.

Her robes got caught on a sharp piece of bark and there was a ripping sound. Ianthe made a disgusted sound, before she climbed up higher and higher.

Finally, after clumsily forcing her way onto a branch right beside Feyre, she sat down. Panting heavily. Then she checked the small hole made in the hem of her robes.

She gritted her teeth but ultimately let it fall away as she faced why she came out here.

"Feyre, lovely spot you have here." Ianthe said, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Thanks, picked it out myself." Feyre snapped.

The High Priestess sighed, "Feyre, you have to come down."

"Yes, I have to go down. And I have to go back to the wedding, don't I?" She snapped.

Ianthe observed her for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. Stoic face seemingly trying to figure out what the best course of action was. Thinking logically, no doubt just wondering what the quickest way to get Feyre back to the wedding was.

It struck her that Ianthe didn't actually care what Feyre was feeling. She was doing as she was told, no other reason. It made Feyre feel all the more alone.

Back in that dungeon, with nothing to keep her company but her will and a bargain.

"Do you... Do you not wish to marry him?" She asked.

Feyre gritted her teeth, she screwed her eyes shut. Darkness pressed in and she remembered the Attor dragging her into the throne room.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to forget anything that ever happened. She wanted to go somewhere none of it ever touched her again.

"Feyre-"

"Just go away Ianthe I don't want to speak to you!" She shouted.

Ianthe bristled, "I am just trying to help-"

"Well you aren't!"

Now, her face iced over. Stone cold and fed up, "We have to go back, now either we can go willingly together, or I will get the sentries and they will drag you back."

A tremor ran up her spine at the threat, "I don't want to go back, Ianthe."

Ianthe loosened a tight breath, "Feyre, let's go home now."

"No."

"Archeron-" Her tone was warning.

"I don't- I don't want to go back." Feyre insisted.

Ianthe scrunched her nose slightly, eyebrows furrowing. Then her face evened out and her voice sweetened, "Feyre, we must go back."

The sudden change in tone, in face, a lure. An attempt at false comfort. The Priestess held out her hand.

Feyre looked at the pale hand before her.

Then at the ground.

Back to the pale hand.

Feyre reached out and Ianthe smiled.

The Cursebreaker batted her hand away with enough force that Ianthe shouted but nearly fell off balance. Giving Feyre enough to time to jump to the forest floor and bolt.

"Feyre Archeron!" Ianthe clung to the branch as she watched Feyre's form disappear further into the dark forest.

Slowly she took inhaled, before releasing her breath. She closed her eyes and asked the sky, "Why, why, why, why, why?"

Feyre ran and ran and ran. She lost a shoe but she didn't care. The feeling of dirt underfoot somehow comforting. Reminding her she was still there and breathing. In the wind, in the open space. Not in that cave, not Under the Mountain.

Yet still there. Always there like it followed her. A ghost of those months looming over her head.

She reached a clearing of grass and wildflowers. She fell to her knees. Legs unable to hold her any longer.

She shook, trembling hands and arms. She should've been able to run faster and far further than that.

But looking at her arms, they were spindly. Her legs which were sticks compared to what they had once been. She felt her cheeks, her face which was hollowed out.

Her fingers to skinny, her organs pressed against the skin of her torso.

When was the last time she had eaten? Had felt the urge to eat anything?

She licked her lips, her throat dry. The air was suffocating. Pollen that was sickeningly sweet. Air open, without any end.

A part of her wondered whether she had ever come out from Under the Mountain, feared, dreaded that at any moment she would awaken.

She heaved a sob, cries racking through her too fragile bones. Like she was made of glass she trembled.

Feyre felt like she was made of glass. Like at a single touch she might crack and fall into a thousand pieces and never be able to be put back together again.

'Make it stop.' She cried in her mind, sniffling, 'Someone make it all stop.'

'Take me away.' She pleaded with nothing.

There was the sound of stick cracking underfoot and Feyre's head snapped up.

But instead of Ianthe or sentries, violet eyes shone down upon her.

"Hello Feyre Darling."

"You!" Someone shouted, Rhysand and Feyre looked up to see Ianthe panting as she pointed to Rhysand.

Feyre had never seen her quite so dishevelled. But rage lined her features.

Rhysand however, simply smirked, before grabbing Feyre's arm as she screamed. The Night Lord lifted her tattooed hand and pointed to it.

"Don't mind me, pretty Priestess, I am simply collecting."

And just like that.

Rhysand winnowed them away.

***

"What do you mean she's gone?" Tamlin asked, voice near breathless.

Ianthe's eye was twitching relentlessly. She looked as though she had been dragged through a thorn bush. Then again if she had run after Feyre she may have been. Stick and leaves were stuck in her hair, some parts of her robes were torn. And dirt smudged her cheek.

"I mean she was whisked away by the Night Court." Ianthe said, "Our worst fears came true, and Rhysand made good on his word."

"Bastard son of a bitch." Lucien cursed from behind Tamlin.

Tamlin said nothing, unable to move. His eyes turned to Alis by the door who looked between the Priestess and the High lord with sympathetic eyes.

Slowly it lapped at his core. Rage that made his eyes start to black out. His hands trembling by his sides.

Chest rising and falling quicker.

Ianthe looked him up and down, then said to Lucien, "I'll leave you two to deal with this. I am going to have a six-hour long bath."

In a second the Priestess was gone. Alis following after her.

"Lucien, get out." Was the only warning Tamlin gave him.

Lucien's eyes went wide, and he sprinted out the door, slamming it closed.

And Tamlin's magic exploded in a second.

The High lord screamed as his magic ripped through him. flooding his veins with uncontrollable, overwhelming power. He screamed and fell to his knees. A ringing filled his ears, his vision went white.

When it resided, a sob wracked his body as shaking overtook him. His skin heated, getting hotter and hotter until his clothes were soaked with sweat. Trembling, Tamlin tried to pull himself to stand, but he suddenly doubled over and threw up.

The door flung open and Lucien shouted something he couldn't hear. The world was a swirling, dizzy haze of nothing.

Someone gasped and Tamlin looked up to see Alis sprinting for him. The female cupped his face, and Tamlin blacked out.

Link to chapter 2 is here! Link to chapter 3 is here!

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thatonetwig · 7 months

Text

Candy Grapes Headcanons! (Chujin x Starlo x Dalv x El Baliador)

Chujin:

• His tail always starts wagging out of happiness whenever he sees any of his boyfriends.

• Chujin often gives his partners small robots or other little inventions as gifts (they usually end up exploding or malfunctioning, but they appreciate the gesture anyway).

• ALWAYS chooses to watch Ben 10 on movie nights...part of the reason why they rarely let him choose.

• He loves headpats and belly rubs, and it doesn't help that Chujin is the fluffiest out of the four of them.

• He has insomnia, but he always sleeps peacefully if he's cuddling with his partners in bed.

Dalv:

• He only feels comfortable sharing excerpts from his books and samples of his songs with his partners (they love them everytime).

• Dalv loves being in the middle because he gets to be surrounded by fluffiness, hugging him tightly from all sides.

• He made a music box with the help of Kanako and Axis to help all of them whenever they struggle to sleep (Dalv composed the song and Kanako and Axis made the music box itself).

• He likes to surprise his boyfriends with a kiss on the cheek whenever he sees them, and they're facing away from him.

• The concerned one. He sometimes gets worried for them even over small things, and it's up to them to calm him down.

Starlo:

• Gives his partners gun training lessons on weekends for their safety (Bailador doesn't like to use them, and Dalv and Chujin can't even hold one properly).

• He thinks of himself as the charismatic one in the relationship, but his boyfriends prove him wrong every time by showering him in compliments and just watching him melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

• Gave his partners sheriff's badges as tokens of his love for them (Bailador wears it openly on his costume while Dalv wears it under his cloak and Chujin under his kimono).

• Starlo sometimes likes to serenade his partners whenever they are bored or in bed, making the mood all the more romantic.

• Unironically a very good chef. He loves to cook for his boyfriends, especially corn-based meals.

El Bailador:

• Loves to sneak up on his boyfriends from behind and lift them up into a tight hug.

• Knows that his partners aren't as passionate about dancing as he is, so he instead teaches them more calming and elegant dances like waltzes.

• Huge motivator. Dalv is struggling to come up with the next part of his song? Bailador performs a dance tailored to the genre of music it is to try and give him ideas. Chujin is frustrated with what he's working on? Bailador is there to comfort him and tell him to take a break.

• Whenever they're in bed, he sometimes likes to scoop up all of his partners into one big group hug with lots of kisses.

• He's the alarm clock for his partners. In the morning, they're always woken up by Bailador dancing around excitedly and encouraging them to get up for the day.

Bonus! Axis and Kanako:

• Having known Dalv, Starlo, and Bailador prior to them getting together, Kanako was very happy to hear that she was getting them as her three new stepdads.

• Axis, on the other hand, was...very confused. ("WHAT? SO, YOU’RE MY CREATOR, BUT HE IS TOO? HE IS? HE IS AS WELL- I DON'T GET IT.")

• Dalv gives them music lessons whenever they come over (Kanako plays the flute and Axis plays an Otamatone).

• Chujin used to let Starlo train Kanako how to shoot guns...and revoked those lessons the same day when she almost shot him and Axis by accident.

• Axis pulls the, "YOU AREN’T MY CREATOR", card whenever he doesn't want to listen to any of Chujin's partners.

• In addition to dance lessons, Bailador also teaches Spanish to Kanako and Axis when he can. In return, they teach him some Japanese (the first word Axis taught him was, "Kuso").

• Kanako gave each of Chujin's partners a string with a gold bell attached to it to welcome them into the family, and Axis gave them nametags with their names engraved on them from the Steamworks (he didn't know what else to gift them and those were the best he could think of).

And that's it for now! I hope you all enjoyed reading this very long list of headcanons!

#undertale yellow #headcanons #gay #uty axis #starlo uty #uty dalv #uty chujin #el bailador #kanako ketsukane #polyamory #yep this ship is called candy grapes now #uty #get it? Chujin and Dalv are the grapes while El Bailador is the pop rocks and Starlo is the honey? idk #Ceroba and Martlet are dating in this btw #more on them coming soon

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bowiebond · 2 years

Text

TW dubcon/mention of SA? (Ace character who doesn’t know they’re ace is belittled into sex — it doesn’t go into detail)

Jason never realising he’s asexual until he marries a girl and goes “oh fuck I waited until marriage like a good Christian boy, but I’m supposed to do the deed now…”

He holds off as long as possible. Makes excuses. Until it’s been months and his wife snaps at him.

“What, is your dick broken or something?! Am I not attractive enough for you? I married you in hopes of having an easy well off life with children that I could put my love into and you can’t even give me that?!”

Jason relents. He has pride and he wants to hold onto it and…well, it’s uncomfortable. It feels nice, physically, but he can’t focus on the pleasure when his skin is crawling, his stomach churning.

She’s gorgeous. Beautiful, really. He knew that. He doesn’t understand why his body doesn’t.

She doesn’t make him do it again for a while. Waits a few weeks but when there’s no positive test, she asks him to try again.

It takes four tries before she falls pregnant, and Jason is relieved. She’s gotten her baby. She doesn’t need him for anything more than a paycheck and a father now. She seems happy with that; he’s come to realise she never loved him. It explained the quick engagement. He had been swept up in his desire for a girlfriend, a wife who he’d come home to and kiss on the cheek and maybe watch a movie with that he never considered that maybe she didn’t want that too.

It feels like a break up, Jason thinks. He’s only been through one before with his highschool sweetheart, Chrissy.

Jason wonders if maybe he’s gay. It’s a thought that makes his gut clench and his throat tighten up. Hell, he even tries to watch some stuff. It does little to nothing for him. He stares hours at his screen, switching between pornos, straight and gay and even lesbian, but nothing strikes him as appealing. He half-considers the videos where men would pet their kneeling boys, interested in the gentle flushes it would induce, but it didn’t stir anything that made his dick hard. It just made his heart race, really, the intimacy of it.

He decides he’s not gay. Just…fundamentally broken. Or maybe he had been born for priesthood, celibate for life. Fuck, that sounded like a good life to him.

So he does it. He joins the priesthood. He’s married, sure, but it’s an easy excuse to why he can’t sleep with her anymore. He’s devoted to this way of life, he told her. To God. And he was. He had grown up looking towards the sky.

After a year, she divorces him. It’s hard, and rocky, but she finds a new man within two years who she actually does love.

He gets a son anyway, Joseph, even if he only sees him three days out of the week and he’s unable to stay the night most days because his mother is clingy regarding her baby. The few times he does get his boy for the night, he curls the five year old into his chest and reads him storybooks until he nods off, all chubby cheeks and tousled blond hair like his father.

He hopes he never grows up. Never gets bigger. Because one day he won’t want to share a bed with his father, be held by him, or even visit because he had his stepdad in the picture and his ex-wife has snippy comments on her tongue about him at the ready always.

But he gets older. Of course he does. Joseph is thirteen when he begs Jason to take him to see a metal band.

“I know, ‘it’s the devils music’, but they’re really good, Dad. Can’t you just do this for me, for once? Mom won’t let me go without an adult and she refuses to go with me. Or let David.” His stepdad. Joseph scowls as he spits the name. David isn’t all that bad, but he refuses to argue with his wife, and it gets on the boys nerves. Jason’s also aware there’s a bit of favouritism when it came to Joseph and their other two kids, Lauren and Peter.

Jason can’t say no. Not when his son is obviously being slighted instead of just being told no by his mother. She could be a real petty woman at times. What did Jason ever see in her?

“Fine.”

“Yes! Thank you, dad!” Joseph is buzzing the rest of the week, even offering to pay for his fathers ticket out of his saved up pocket money since Jason hadn’t been keen, but like hell was he taking his kids money.

“Keep it, ‘Seph. Buy yourself a shirt or something from the concert instead, okay?” Jason ignores that it’s a petty move on his end too. He knows his ex-wife will chuck a fit at their son wearing heavy metal merch, but the idea delights Jason. The satisfaction would be better than sex by tenfold. He would know.

Jason almost regrets coming when he sees the crowd. They’re all draped in black with wildly coloured hair and he feels like a sore thumb with his baby blue polo and white cardigan tied around his shoulders, blond hair swept back. He also feels a tad old for the crowd, but he sees a few men and women much older than him, so at least he knew he wasn’t the only grown up.

God. A priest at a heavy metal concert. What a scenario.

“Dad, dad, they’re coming on stage, oh my god.” Joseph is jumping on his toes, trying to see over the crowd and Jason, who never dropped his strict regime, figured he could chance one evening of carrying a barely teen on his shoulders. Joseph almost falls at first and laughs when Jason clamps down his hands. He’s heavier than he used to be and it makes Jason’s heart (and shoulders) ache.

He squinted over the heads to look at the stage and found himself feeling a strange sense of familiarity as a shaggy dark haired man in black and chains walked onto stage, taking the microphone in hand.

“How’re my undead fans going? You all still alive?” The crowd roared, including Joseph, and it made Jason wince at the volume. The leads voice is nice though, low and just a tad rough around the edges. “Any newbies in the crowd? First show with us?” Joseph cheered along with a few others and the lead laughed.

He pointed at Joseph, the easiest one to spot with his blond hair and elevated height.

“Good to see some fresh faces. Little white sheep here needs a shirt, seriously, you look like you’re about to puke from excitement, kid.”

“I love you, Eddie Munson!” Joseph screamed and Jason’s eyes widened in shock, jaw going slack. He almost dropped Joseph before gripping tighter.

Prays be to God.

Eddie cackled, almost falling with how low he leant back. He swung back up with a weird grace to him, hair swinging forward with the force. He stomped towards the edge and pointed harder at him.

“You — you, kid, you buy a shirt and I’ll fuckin’ sign it, you got spirit, squirt!” He spun around, still laughing as he grabbed the microphone stand. He looked over his shoulder after a moment with wide eyes. “Apologises to the parental figure. But coarse language is advised.” He grinned and grabbed his guitar with flourish, tossing the strap over his head.

“Enough talk, let’s fuckin’ let loose.” The lights shut off with a scream from fans before red bled onto the stage, fog curling around Eddie’s shadowed figure, three more figures making themselves known behind instruments.

“Let’s knock open our Coffin, boys.” The purr rumbles through the speakers, followed by a low vibrating note that makes Jason’s breath hitch and hair stand on end.

The concert is a blur. Jason had taken a few songs to get used to the volume, but he couldn’t lie. They were good. With the crowd, with their instruments — Eddie’s voice could go from warm honey to gruff, animalistic almost, within moments. It was an experience, that was for sure.

“I have to get a shirt, dad. He said he’d sign it. You think he really will?” Joseph is shaking all over and Jason is only mildly concerned. He’s pretty sure he’s shaking too, but it’s in a good way?

“I’m sure he will.” Jason decides he should probably avoid going backstage with his son. Eddie and him hadn’t been…friendly. Less than. Jason had thought Eddie annoying as all hell and he’s pretty sure Eddie hated his guts.

Unfortunately, Joseph’s too young to go backstage alone according to the bodyguard.

“Please, dad? It’ll only be a few minutes, I promise, this is a once in a life time. I’ll never ask for anything ever again!” He begs and Jason had already folded to his whims when he said please.

Seeing Eddie up close is staggering. Makes his heart stop and start and sputter like an old car. When Eddie looks at him, he knows he’s put a name to the face in moments.

“Carver?”

Joseph’s eyes widen as he looks between Eddie and his father.

“Munson.” He greets back. Joseph’s mouth fell open in shock.

“You know Eddie Munson, dad?” There’s stars in his sons eyes and Jason wants to kick his younger self in the rear for being a dick to Eddie because now his son is going to reap what he sowed in his youth.

“I…We went to school together.” He thinned his lips and Eddie was watching him intensely. It made his cheeks hot. He had never been able to hide his embarrassment or shame with how pale he was.

“You haven’t changed.” Eddie remarked, eyeing his outfit with a smirk. Jason bristled at his words.

“And I see you’re still a—“ A scowl was growing but it fell apart when his son spoke.

“You were friends with Eddie Munson, dad?! Oh my god, I can’t believe this, this is the best day of my life! My boring priest dad was friends with a rockstar!” Joseph’s voice cracked, squeaky like every boy starting puberty. Jason’s heart plummeted. Anxiety swirled in his gut as he realised he was about to disappoint his only child, opening his lips to refute his claim.

“Oh, yeah, totally, little dude.” Eddie interjects, grinning. “We go wayyyy back. Best friends, really.” It was a bold faced lie and even his band mates seemed to agree it was a total farce from the looks on their faces, ranging from bewilderment to eye rolling exhaustion.

“Why did you stop being friends then?” Joseph frowned.

“I got busy with my career, obviously!” Eddie gestured to their surroundings. “I didn’t have a lot of time to phone and catch up. Totally my bad, really.” Holy shit, he was really going the full mile on this one. Jason wasn’t sure whether to applaud him or not.

Joseph elbowed his fathers side and looked at him expectantly.

“Maybe you should get back in contact so you have some actual friends. Ones that are cool.” He barely whispered it and Jason’s ears burned.

“I have friends. Everybody at church is my friend, Joseph.” He snipped out between clenched teeth, glaring at his son who scoffed. When had he become such a snarky kid? He used to be so sweet.

“That doesn’t count.”

“I’m too busy, Joseph.”

“You don’t even do anything when I don’t visit—“

“I do so—“

“Yeah but not like, a lot—“

“Hey, quit punching your old man while he’s down. You should know better.” Eddie laughed, pinching at the blond boys Corroded Coffin tee that he had thrown on over the top of his other shirt. “Come here, let me sign this thing. I’ll even add in a Polaroid you can frame.” He winked and Joseph’s eyes sparkled.

“Please!”

“So he has manners when he wants something.” Jason muttered. Eddie grinned and pulled Joseph closer, signing the shirt with his name. He called over his bodyguard to take a photo. Jason stood off to the side awkwardly, waiting to leave.

“C’mon, you too, old pal.” Eddie pulls him in last second and Jason’s pretty sure his wide eyes will be immortalised on his sons dresser, along with the blonds mused fringe flipped up against Eddie’s frizzy dark locks. He looks ridiculous, he bemoans to himself as each member autographs the Polaroid.

“Okay, come on, we have to head home now or your mother will throw a fit.” Jason ushers Joseph to say his goodbyes.

“Tell your wife I said hi, Carver.” Eddie drolls on his way out and Jason huffs.

“She’s not my wife.” And he was glad for it.

Just as they made for the door, Jason felt a hand on his wrist. He jumps and nearly trips over his own damn feet when Eddie tugs his arms around to expose his forearm, squiggling down several digits with his tongue peeking out between his lips, concentrated.

Jason tugged his arm away with his heartbeat in his ears when Eddie caught his eye, grinning.

“Call me sometime. You know. To catch up.” He winked and Jason was thrown for a moment at the gesture.

“Uh…sure.” He cleared his throat and left quickly with Joseph who was gushing about the fact that his father had Eddie Munson’s phone number.

Jason doesn’t intend to call it. So he doesn’t. It’s two weeks later and he’s happy to forget all about the meeting when a familiar face walks right through his church doors.

“What’re you doing here?” He hissed quietly, making his way down the aisle. It was after his service, so there wasn’t anybody except Thomson, who always stayed an extra hour to pray alone. His wife was going through a hard battle with cancer, so Jason never disturbed him. Sometimes, he’d even pray with him, or before bed, he’d pray on his behalf.

“Checking if I burn when I enter holy ground.” Eddie mimicked his whisper, a crooked grin on his lips and hands stuffed in the pockets of his tight black pants. “Seems I’m still safe after fifteen years.”

“How did you even know this was my church?” Jason looked back towards Thomson and huffed, leading Eddie back out of the door and closing it behind them. He wasn’t going to disturb the poor man. “Are you stalking me or something?”

“Your son told me.” Eddie shrugged and Jason blinked a few times.

“How did my son tell you?”

“You didn’t use my number, but he sure did.” Eddie smirked and Jason’s face burned with realisation. Joseph must have memorised the number on his forearm. That sneaky brat.

“I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “He’s a good kid but he’s nosy at the worst times. Gets it from his mother. I’m sure you have plenty of things to be doing instead of entertaining a thirteen year old.”

Eddie snorted.

“Kid worships the ground I walk on. I’m happy to entertain him.” There was a long pause between them, and Jason hated how cool Eddie seemed with it. Jason could never stand the quiet.

“I’m…also sorry about high school.” He forced the words past his lips. He was, to a degree, sorry. He had been a douchebag. His years in service had humbled him greatly, especially with how many folks he met from different walks of life. Becoming a priest had made him reevaluate a lot about himself.

Eddie was still a prick though. He had antagonised Jason just as much back then, even if Jason had had the popularity to back him unlike Eddie.

“Honestly? Me too. We were stupid, teenage dicks.” Eddie conceded and Jason rolled his eyes.

“You were a freak though.”

“And you were a preppy shitstain jock.”

They stared at each other, and after a long silence, Jason’s lip quirked up.

“Forgive and forget?”

“Something tells me if I don’t say yes now, I’ll have to say a dozen Hail Mary’s instead later.”

“Only half a dozen. I can be nice.” Jason shrugged and Eddie cackled, head thrown back.

“God, Carver, man, I never thought this would be how we met again. A priest. I mean, it makes sense, you bible thumper.” He teased, trying to hook a finger under the white band of his collar. Jason smacked his hand away with a huff.

“My church is about sharing Gods teachings and Jesus’ love with people who want it. I wouldn’t call myself a bible thumper. That implies I’m out rallying against gay marriage and abortions in my free time. I don’t care what folks outside my church do. I learnt that early on.”

“Oh wow. You’re all ‘love thy neighbour’, huh?” Eddie seemed genuinely surprised. “Not gonna stone a whore in the front yard?”

“Gosh no!” Jason put a hand to chest, appalled. “If she finds pleasure in flesh, good for her, but I will pass. And perhaps advise her to be safe. And evaluate why she prefers one night stands to a healthy, long term relationship with an active partner and plentiful sex.” He crossed his arms with a shrug of his shoulders and brows.

Eddie laughed. Full belly laughed, bent at the knees and wheezing a little.

“Oh my god! You’re literally — full one-eighty! You’re a whole new guy! This is…god, this is kind of hilarious.”

“You didn’t change, from what I’m seeing.” Jason mused. Eddie grinned.

“Nah. I mean, I grew up, had to to be in the biz long term, but I’m still everybody’s favourite freak.” He joked with a good-natured shrug.

“And now you’re standing outside my church.”

“The kid is convinced we have to reconnect. Be friends again.” Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m a sucker for kids, man. Can’t disappoint them.”

“Do you have any?”

“Nah. I mean — I could have.” Eddie admitted shyly. “Didn’t work out. Got too wrapped up in my career, couldn’t settle. And groupies, try as they might to convince you I hooked up with them, and knocked them up; I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Jason quirked a brow. “Isn’t that the big things with rockstars? Drugs, music and women?”

Eddie barked a laugh.

“Drugs? Some hard stuff in my youth. Some weed when I need to mellow out during a writing sesh. Music? Ear-aching amount. But I’m proud of it. As for women…” He leaned in closer, voice low as he spoke. “Not really my type.” He pulled back with thin lips and Jason’s heart thumped harder in his chest, his collar feeling too tight.

“I told you. I don’t judge people. Only the Creator can.” He looked up at the clear blue sky. “And he doesn’t make mistakes.” He assured softly and Eddie smiled. “So…you’re gay.”

“Not exactly.” Eddie shrugged, looking a bit shy. “Not really interested in anybody. Not in that way.”

Jason frowned.

“Is that why you aren’t married?” Despite his many rings, Eddie’s left ring finger was bare. “You don’t…can’t love anyone?”

“I do. I can.” Eddie affirmed. “Just, uh, not interested in showing it through…physical means.”

It clicked in Jason’s head then. His eyes widened, lips parted in surprise.

“I see.”

“Must suck. Being a priest. Celibacy and all.” Eddie suddenly said, shifting his stance to something faux-casual. Trying to move the subject off himself and his lack of desire.

“Not really. It’s why I went into it.” Jason admitted, Eddie’s confession making him feel brazen.

“You went into priesthood for…the abstinence?” Eddie frowned, squinting in confusion.

“Well, I had faith, and I was in a marriage I was unhappy in. She had the child she wanted. It seemed like a good option at the time. I’m glad I did it, actually.”

“Wait, just let me— are you…” Eddie gestured vaguely and Jason smirked.

“I’m not gay. I’m not really straight either. I…don’t desire sex. At all.”

“You have a son.” Eddie reminded, like Jason didn’t know.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but…I’m glad I had him, even if I wasn’t comfortable making him.” Jason truly meant that. Joseph was his pride and joy.

“So you’re asexual too?”

“Asexual?” Jason frowned. “Like a plant?”

“No, you, uh…you’re not attracted to anyone. Physically.”

“No.” Jason’s brows furrowed. “There’s a word for that?”

“Yeah.” Eddie chuckled. “There’s a lot of words for a lot of things. I am curious though; do you like anybody romantically?”

Jason thought about it. He had thought he loved his ex-wife. He knew he had loved Chrissy before they spilt. He had had plenty of crushes as a kid and even in his years as a priest, he had pined for two women, and a man for a brief time.

“My heart doesn’t discriminate.” He decided with a soft blush. Eddie grinned.

“I feel you there.”

They stared at each other a long moment and Jason’s heart only raced faster, all too aware of it. Eddie offered him a dazzling smile. The show stopping kind.

“Maybe we should hang out. Properly. I’m pretty sure the little dude is already bragging to all his friends about his uber cool dad anyway.”

“I’m only ‘uber cool’ dad when you’re mentioned.” Jason clicked his tongue. Eddie smirked.

“Obviously. I’m the uber cool part, you’re the dad.”

Jason rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, trying to hide his smile. He was doing a poor job of it.

It took him thirty five years to realise he was asexual, but it took him thirty six to realise he was in love with Eddie Munson.

Go figure. The Lord really did work in mysterious ways, huh?

#eddie munson #jason carver #asexual jason carver #asexual eddie munson #munver #TigerFreak #carson #priest Jason carver #rockstar eddie munson #Joseph Carver

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