#never have I frantically opened procreate so quickly

[claustrophobicandexcatholic]

something something purity of essence

[writersmorgue]

Something Immortal

word count - 3k

warnings: suicide attempt, drug use, addiction, cursing, teenagers being gross

pairing: model!Todoroki x canon!Bakugo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Holy shit guys he posted!!" Mina squeals, vaulting herself over the couch to reach the rest of the Bakusquad sitting on the common room carpet. An old original copy of Monopoly splayed out in the center of their group.

"Ooh, show us! Show us!" Kaminari leans forward, swiping half of the properties off the board in the process.

Sero groans, "Dude you do this every time!!"

The blond pouts, "Hey it's your fault I was losing."

Kirishima just chuckles, picking up his dog piece from jail and throwing it into the box.

"Your smart people game can wait," Mina tugs on Sero's ponytail, "He hasn't posted in weeks."

"Oh my god he's so fucking hot," Kaminari's knee-jerk reaction is whispered as soon as he sees the post.

Todoroki Shouto, one of Japan- and America's- most well-known models. The teenager, who happens to be their age, regularly models for magazines like Vogue, Joker, and Elle. The teenager who has starred in countless American and Japanese short and independent films. The teenager who just so happens to be the son of the number one hero, Endeavor.

No one knows his quirk, but it just adds to the mystery. Some people theorize he's quirkless, but others think he's got a crazy dangerous quirk, which is why he's a model instead of an aspiring hero. Not like he's not perfect for the job, with his gorgeous bi-colored hair and heterochromatic eyes. The scar on his left side somehow only adds to his beauty. It doesn't matter what your sexuality is, you simp for Todoroki Shouto.

But that's the obvious, now this photo- this photo.

"It's ethereal, I've never seen him look so serene before."

"He's an actual angel."

"How is he only eighteen?!"

Mina nods as Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima go through the seven stages of grief just looking at the photo.

Kirishima's eyes dart to Todoroki's username... which is just Shouto. In fact, the Todoroki name isn't mentioned once on his account, a fact that has hundreds of conspiracy theories on its own.

"Hey Meens, can we stalk him real quick? I wanna see who he's following."

She grins, "Well anything for you, munchkin."

Sero snorts. Their couple nicknames never fail to amuse anyone within hearing range.

"Ugh gross," Kaminari gags as Mina giggles, swiping off of the picture (which already has over 600,000) and onto his main page.

It's simple, plain yet elegant in the way only a PR manager could manage.

The bio is a link to his most recent shoot with some magazine that Kirishima doesn't recognize, the profile picture is a rare shot of him smiling, a blue checkmark, and a follower count of over four million.

His following count, however, is the shocker.

"He only follows fourteen people?" Sero whispers, clicking on the number.

"Huh," Mina turns the phone slightly so she can see, "Who is he following?"

"Let's see," Sero squints, eyes scrolling down the list, "Hawks... his siblings... Mirko... some American models... his agency's profile... and- wait, isn't that Bakugo?"

"HAH?" Mina yells, whipping the phone around and clicking on the profile.

Sure enough, a slew of photos shows up on her screen, all of their resident blond pomeranian glaring at the camera in various locations.

"He- WHAT?? It must be a glitch!" Mina scrambles frantically, eyes darting across the screen.

"Uh, yeah," Kirishima chuckles, "a glitch."

Mina scrolls up numerous times as if refreshing the page will help.

"I mean what other explanation can you think of?! It's not like Thee Todoroki Shouto would know our Bakugou, they're totally in different leagues." Mina sounds absolutely scandalized, causing Sero to laugh.

"I don't know, Meens, the proof is right there. We should ask him about it!"

"And what- DIE?" Kaminari reasons.

Sero nods, "Fair point."

"Pussies." Mina stands, planting her manicured hands on the edge of the couch, "I'll ask him myself."

-

"I REFUSE." A fourteen-year-old Shouto screams at his father.

"what do you mean you refuse? Shouto she's a lovely girl, and you need to procreate while you're still young if you're not going to become a hero like I want. You get one or the other." Todoroki Enji grabs his youngest child by the arm to lead him out of the kitchen, but Shouto jerks out of his grip. "Wh- SHOUTO."

"I'm going to live with Fuyumi. She'll take care of me." He holds his ground, shaking his father off when he tries once again to physically lead him out of the room.

"OH?" Enji bellows a laugh, "And how do you expect she'll find the money to take you in? Raising a teenager is expensive, you know, and she's only a simple school teacher."

"She's not a simple anything. And I- I'll find a way. We'll be fine. I already talked to several agencies."

"...agencies?"

-

"Wait, Mina!!" Kaminari calls after the girl, but she's a woman on a mission and there's no stopping her.

They arrive at Bakugo's door in a heap, Kaminari clawing at Mina while she knocks calmly. Kirishima and Sero stand to watch because they have no idea what else to do. (They're just as nervous as Kaminari but they're more afraid of Mina if they're being honest.)

A crash comes from inside the room, but soon their resident angry boy is slamming open his door and glaring at them. The normalcy is comforting.

"Do you fuckers realize what fucking time it is?"

"Yes~" Mina coos sweetly, "I know old men need their sleep but it's only 8:30 and we have a question."

He sighs aggressively and stretches his arms behind his back, cracking his shoulders and then his neck, Kaminari whimpers in fear.

"Alright, what do you want pinky?"

She's practically vibrating with excitement at this point.

"Why is Todoroki Shouto following you on Instagram?"

Bakugo seems to mull over this for a moment, and then he just shrugs.

Mina nods like this answers any part of her question, "That's what I thought, funny glitch. He's pretty hot though, right?"

The rest of the group nods emphatically.

Bakugo scratches his leg with his other heel, "He's not ugly, I guess."

Mina waves her arms around in Bakugo's general direction, "See!!? Even the straight guy agrees!!"

"No one was disagreeing with you, Mina." Sero snickers.

Bakugo grunts, then promptly slams the door in their faces.

"Well I guess that was more than he'd usually do at this time, we're lucky we didn't get exploded." Kirishima muses.

Kaminari nods, shuddering at the thought.

"Welp! That answers our question!" Although it really didn't, no one was about to argue with Mina, "Anyway I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to your vibe for me!" Sero whispers after her.

She waves as she marches away, humming to herself.

-

Shouto stares at the street below.

He wonders if he'd die falling from a height like this. He hopes he doesn't hit anyone.

Slowly, he removes his expensive sneakers, dropping them on the modelling agency's roof beside him. It's breezy tonight, and Shouto, freshly sixteen, has nothing to live for anymore. So he won't.

Stepping carefully over the guardrail, not sure why since he's about to jump. Maybe part of him is still afraid.

Whatever he can get over it.

His thin frame wobbles in the wind, and he breathes deeply, too focused on relaxing to notice the roof door opening, and hurried steps coming up behind him.

A warm hand grabs him, almost startling him off the side of the building.

The interruption heaves heavy breaths in his ear as they both topple down onto the concrete floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Oh, it's Bakugo.

The only child of his manager, Mitsuki Bakugo, who happens to be a nosy little shit who can't stay out of other people's business.

"Get OFF" Shouto shoves him, frantically scrambling toward the railing again. He needs this.

"NO! Todoroki get the fuck back-"

"It's SHOUTO." blood spurts onto his gray sweater and he realizes with muted horror that he just elbowed his employer's son in the nose.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He bends down, removing his trashed pullover, and holds it to his friend's nose.

Bakugo snorts, "Sorry- Shouto I mean." He winces when Shouto presses harder into his face, "I'll forgive you if you don't jump."

Shouto sighs, "You know why I was going to."

Bakugo visibly calms at the use of past tense, the outburst must have snapped him out of it.

"Your mom, right?" Shouto tenses.

"Yeah I- he barred me from ever seeing her again and I- I don't know what to do." He shudders and pulls his pills from his pants pocket.

He wonders what his mom would say if she found out her baby was addicted to drugs.

Bakugou frowns but lets his friend take the pill, not sure what to say.

"Fucking piece of shit. Is that even legal?"

"Legally the number two hero can do whatever the fuck he wants. We live in a flawed world, Bakugo.

"I- Shouto."

"Hmm?" Shouto collapses onto the ground, crunching the pill and sighing as he feels the effects start to take almost immediately.

"I care- I care about you, okay? So please let me help you. Let me get you help."

A tear slips down to Shouto's ear without his permission, he wipes it away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know, Bakugo. You haven't exactly seemed to like me in the past. Even though I like to think we're friends I know you don't feel the same." He frowns, admiring the shine of wetness on his palm in the moonlight.

Bakugo grumbles, "Don't fuckin' tell me what I do and don't feel. I really fuckin' care about you even though I'm an ass about it, okay? I'm not good with emotions so don't expect much from me. But I do want you to be happy and I don't think the uh- the pills are helping."

The blond holds out a hand and reluctantly Shouto slaps the container into it.

"Fine," he mumbles, "you're uh- not as bad as I thought."

Bakugo snorts, "You're just as bad as I thought, but I like you anyway."

Against his will, Shouto finds himself blushing, thankful that it's mostly hidden in the dark.

"C'mon," Bakugo gestures to his own chest, "I know you could use one."

Shouto whimpers as he curls himself into the blond's strong frame. He's built a lot of muscle since starting at UA this year.

A strong hand rubs along his back and Shouto finds he can't hold back his tears any longer as the shock starts to set in.

Fuck he almost just killed himself.

"Thanks, Bakugo."

"I almost just watched you die, you can call me Katsuki."

"Thanks, Katsuki."

"No problem, Shouto."

-

The Bakusquad once again finds themselves playing a game on the common room floor, this time Sorry, much to Sero's chagrin.

"Sorry!" Kirishima grins cheekily as he kicks Sero's piece back to his home base.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you guys-" He groans, flopping back onto the loveseat behind him, only to get an eyeful of Bakugo Katsuki's ass, "Oh hey Bakugou!"

"Wh- OI TAPE FACE WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE LOOKING-"

Sero snickers, patting Bakugou on the hip, "Sorry dude, it was literally right there."

Small explosions popped from Bakugo's hands as he growled down at Sero.

"Aw come on blasty he's just playing and WHERE are you going dressed like that???!!!"

Bakugo blushes and tugs his light blue blazer down farther.

"I have a date." He mutters, tugging his sleeves.

“Sorry,” Kaminari laughs, “I think I misheard you. Sounded like you said ‘I have a date.’”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “Because I do, dipshit.” He sighs, checking his -expensive-looking- watch, “Just watch the independent film awards when they’re on. I think it’s like four hours from now that it starts.”

“Whyyyy would you have anything to do with that?” Kirishima groans, very lost.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo grunts, digging his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates and checking something before humming and striding towards the front door.

He looks unusually elegant, hair slicked back probably as well as Bakugo’s hair can be, shirt tucked in, a few rings on his fingers, barely visible and yet beautifully drawn eyeliner. He’s… pretty.

The three remaining members of the Bakusquad, as well as the rest of the common room, sit there in awe as he shoves a permission slip in Iida’s blubbering face.

“I- Wh- Bakugo is this from Aizawa? You cannot just leave!!”

“Fuck off glasses, I have his fuckin’ blessing or whatever.”

“Bakugo!”

The blond shoots a middle finger off behind him and slams the door shut, leaving a stunned common room in his wake.

“Uh, well, that happened.” Jirou drones blandly from her place on the couch with Momo.

“Awards show watch party, anyone?!” Uraraka grins, standing, “I’ll get the mochi!!”

“I’ll make tea,” Momo stands as well, dusting off her perfectly clean jeans. Jirou groans at the loss of her girlfriend’s warmth and flops over on the couch.

“This is stupid, he probably got invited by some pro hero and he’s just going to yell at the paparazzi if he’s even gonna be there.” She pouts.

“Well,” Sero grins, “anyone wanna play Monopoly while we wait?”

Kaminari throws the Sorry board at his head.

-

“Alright, is everyone ready!!? The red carpet is about to start!!” Hagakure squeals, even though the entirety of class 3-A (minus Bakugo) is there.

“So… what exactly are we watching this for?” Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Bakugo’s going to be in it apparently, the study group earlier saw him in the common room wearing a suit.” Ojiro answers.

“Not just a suit!!” Mina holds her hands out as if to deliver groundbreaking news, “A fancy suit.”

“Aren’t all suits fancy?”

“Shut up.”

“OOH LOOK there’s Arai Itō and Chiba Yoshida!! Aww, they’re so cute!” Uraraka swoons, clasping her hands together.

“I wonder when Kacchan is gonna come out, these things can take a while.”

“I honestly don’t even care, I heard Todoroki Shouto is nominated for an award this year!! Do you remember that really sad short film he was in about having an overdose? Gosh, I hope he wins.” Hagakure’s hair bow vibrates excitedly.

“THERE HE IS THERE HE IS!!!!!” She points at the bottom of the screen where a man in a pale blue dress has stepped out of a limo and onto the carpet, a heeled foot gracefully raising him to his full 6’2”.

“Holy shit he’s gorgeous.” Sero breathes, the reporters on screen basically saying the same thing.

Shouto reaches behind him and holds out a hand for the second person stepping out of the limo, broad shoulders, a shorter stature than Shouto especially with the heels, spiky blond hair, piercing red eyes-

…

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BAKUGOU??”

The aerial camera pans down toward the blond, showing off his suit- which matches Shouto’s dress perfectly- and his, what appears to be professionally done hair.

“Holy shit does he have an undercut now!!?? We just saw him a few hours ago!” Mina screeches.

Momo shrugs, “They do that sort of thing for celebrities.” She sips her tea, unphased.

“Okay okay, we’re all ignoring the most important part. Kacchan is Todoroki’s date.” Izuku frantically waves his arms around.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tokoyami muses.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sero asks no one in particular.

“Wait everyone SHUT UP they’re announcing awards!!!! Todoroki might win one! We can ask Bakugo about this when he gets back. Surely there’s an interesting story.” Uraraka chimes in, handing out mochi and popcorn.

The tv’s voice is muffled under the muttering of several class 3-A members, but Mina turns it up as the male announcer reads the winners of the award Todoroki is nominated for.

“AAAAAAAAND THE WINNER FOR BEST ACTOR IN A DRAMA SHORT ISSSSSSSSS…

TODOROKI SHOUTO!!! For his work in The End of Me and the incredible performance that shocked-”

Cheers ring through the dorms, popcorn goes flying, and Mina frantically shushes everyone as Shouto makes his way gracefully onto the stage. He accepts the award from the previous winner, bowing elegantly and stepping up to the mic.

“Hello everyone,” He begins, shooting a shy smile directly into the camera. It has always perplexed his fans how nervous he can be in real life compared to in his photoshoots. “This is a really important award to me, not only am I incredibly grateful to the panel for gracing this title upon me, but as of yesterday,” He smiles at the ground, taking a deep breath, “I’m two years clean.”

Shocked gasps ricochet through the award hall as well as through the crowd gathered around the tv.

“He did drugs, kero?” Tsu whispers.

“Mon dieux,” Aoyama shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest, “how brave.”

Shouto clears his breath and continues, “In fact, that wasn’t the worst of it at the time, and I’m incredibly grateful to all who have supported me through my career. You keep me sane, and you keep me going. But especially, I’d like to thank my sister, brother, and my wonderful boyfriend-”

He holds an arm out to someone in the audience, and the camera pans to none other than Bakugou Katsuki, “who quite literally saved my life, and helped me drive myself back on track. I love you Katsuki, and you continue to improve my life every second that you’re in it.”

Most of 3-A are in tears at this point, and as Bakugo half-heartedly scowls into the camera, they can tell his eyes are shining too.

Shouto glances back at the camera as if directing his words to someone in particular.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s walking back down to his seat as the audience provides him with a standing ovation.

“THEY’RE DATING,” Mina sobs, shaking Kirishima’s shoulders as he sits, staring slack-jawed at the television.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

-

Katsuki does NOT wipe tears from his eyes as he helps Shouto sit back down in his seat, but his boyfriend definitely does. His mascara, thankfully waterproof, still holds strong.

Shouto shoots him a watery smile, rubbing his arm as he pulls the blond into a hug.

“Happy two years, Katsuki.”

[katsuflossy]

A Doll’s Palace

Pairing: Hawks x Reader 

TW: Angst, Mentions of maternal death, death, yandere themes, mentions of societal female expectations

A/n:  If it wasn’t for Echo and Mix, would’ve been straight booty cheeks so omg thank y’all for helping me edit this to near perfection ❤❤❤

Taglist: @johariameil @iiminibattlehero @ecao @melanimed​ @mixfi​

Chastity, Purity, Demureness, Divine Feminity: They built your enamored status and innocence in the kingdom of Braavos. A pure noblewoman is seen as the most remarkable feminine icon in society, and you involuntarily became the symbol that many women hated and men looked up to. A curse, your father had called it, as the most beautiful of your family is always the earliest to go, right after birth. Since then, you’ve grown to embody your mother, a face he so loved, and swore on his life that you would never die from a soul exchange as your mother did.

But your marriage with Takami Keigo? A reality every hopeless romantic maiden could only experience through dream. . King ‘Hawks’ was preferred by his people, an esteemed man that led millions to victory in battle with wit and millions of hearts to burst using charm. You were one in a million, the heart that won the golden ticket to strike the hawk’s heart.

Too bad, the reality was shared another lucky heart.

Red silks tailored to your natural measurements; the powdered innocent blush on your face was paralleled to the floor as your brain overflowed with thoughts. Your hands twirled the parchment scroll in your palms, but your eyes remembered the exact words inked on the paper. They jumbled with the script you’ve repeated since the crack of dawn. Midoriya fluttered about the room, making the bed you just laid in and unclogging the once cold bathwater made for you to look more ‘youthful.’ A simple day in the Crystal Queen’s life.

“Izuku?” Your manservant ceased his movement, eagerly giving his attention to you.

“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes tried to reach yours; however, they remained on the paper within your hands, slightly crinkled from when your restraint broke.

“You would tell me when I am wrong” Your irises slowly slid to his frame; pupils almost swallowed into the depths of your eye color. A shiver ran down his back . “right?”

“Y-yes, my Queen.” He didn’t dare to flinch under your gaze, which stared at him longer than what was comfortable. You ended your stare by closing your eyes, giving him a wide smile before rising from your love seat, slipping the parchment in your sleeve. Your steps passed straight by his still frozen figure until they had reached the door frame.

“Midoriya, my faithful servant.” Your voice echoed through the room like a skillful siren. His attention remained on you as you continued to speak.

“I want you in the main dining hall by eight on the dot. Please don’t be late.” You left before he could properly bow at your command.

The barren halls laughed at you, pricking your mentality, forming pairs of figures every few columns you passed. A maid was pressed against the left column just a while ago, arms wrapped around the pale neck of your husband, his arms around her peasant waist.

The one you just passed? The same maid laid her hands on Keigo’s face, smoothing out his goatee’s hairs, and he allowed her to.

The entrance of the dining hall up ahead held your heart’s worst fear. An exchange of breath, love, and intimacy that should be sacred between those wedded. Your mind pictured the peacock vase at the entrance shattering on your behalf, impaling the two’s skin. The imaginary screams were like wine to your ears as you finally entered the hall.

The area was warmed by the marble light of the great chandelier,everything was covered with the golden gleam, hiding the little splatters of deep red in the floor. A mint haired maid captured your attention.

“Your Majesty? I apologize, but the dining room is not finished for tonight’s dinner.” Her brown eyes stared at you nervously; her chubby cheek showed where her teeth bit into its flesh.

“Oh, no worries, I am just looking for now.” The fake smile stuck itself to your face as you examined the long dining table. Only a handful of food were fixated on the top.

“You make excellent food here, Cara. What beautiful carvings in the baby carrots.” You quirked up, noticing she stiffed at your last words.

“Of course, my work is only done best for you, y-your Majesty.” Your practiced laugh came through the room, instilling superficial relief in the maid.

“But I must ask, are you eating some as you cook? You’ve gotten wider in the last months.” Your hand took her chin; curious eyes roamed her plump face as she blushed by the attention.

“Haha, y-yes, I’ve been eating a little more than usual.” Her gaze shuffled to anywhere but you. She was such a terrible liar.

“As long as you’re not eating for two.” You threw your head back; melodious laughter exhausted your stomach pit. Cara barely joined in with her nervous laughter, face breaking red in embarrassment.

“Did I hear my little bird’s beautiful laughter?” The kingly presence broke into the room. Which one? You kept your tongue as Keigo wrapped you into a kiss, which sadly set your heart on fire. Your lips separated, trained eye watching as his own sneakily trailed to the kitchen maid. Your smile dulled before brightening .

“My King, I have exciting news for you.” Your face snuggled into his palm on your cheek. Hawks eyes gleamed like the most gilded of plates.

“Hm? Well, love, don’t keep me on my toes. Let me hear it.” You relished in his arms wrapped around your midsection before pulling out of his embrace, bopping him on the nose.

“That’s the purpose.o keep you anxious until the grand reveal.” Your smile started to burn your cheeks as you watched the room’s bustle, preparing for a grand disaster.

Violins and Cellos played throughout the dining hall as the dinner began. The long table set with food separated you and Keigo, each taking the farthest end. Playful looks and banters were exchanged between the two as the servants lined against the walls, ready for even the most subtle commands. After laughing at one of Keigo’s pun, you clapped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, it was all a joyous evening, but I must bring attention to the evening’s highlight: the surprise.” Hawks quirked up in curiosity. The rest of the maids and Midoriya exchanged curious glances but did not say a word. You rose from your seat, hand gliding across the table’s surface.

“As you know, I am a lady of chastity, not by will, but by curse.” Your steps drew closer to your king.

“My father wishes nothing of seeing me carrying a little one. You, my king, are a young man, one who’s drive is active. A man who wishes to grow old with children around as you said at our first ball.” You were only a mere meter away from his seated figure, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob in nervousness.

“Yes? But my little bird, why is this such an important announcement.”

“Be patient, my love. I am getting to that.” You were half a meter away from him now; his brow held the slightest furrow in them. Cara shuffled in the corner of your eye.

“Well, I begged my father, being of a monogamous nation, and it was hard. Harems were long abandoned in the kingdom of Braavos, but I did it.” You pulled from your sleeves the parchment paper and gave it to Keigo, whose eyes were full of anxiety. He opened the scroll to read.

“In the Kingdom of Fukuoka, the King will have the privilege of a harem, up to 20 women. He will be able to officially appear with them at balls, sleep with them, and—” his eyes flicker to you with shock before rereading what was written. “—procreate with them.”

You smiled before pointing to the end of the paper.

“Only if the Queen, rightfully crowned and inaugurated, is given the parenthood of all children birthed by the harem. The Queen will also be able to have a harem of her own, whether sexually or not.”

Hawks’ wings rose, eyes looking at you in disbelief. You lifted his face close to yours.

“Don’t worry, love. I only have eyes for you. Though,what happened to equality and freedom? The two things you fight for?” Your eyes flickered to Cara, whose face was red with anger. Keigo already took the pen from your sleeves and signed the paper.

“S-stop! This law c-can’t pass !” Her voice broke the cheery atmosphere, riddling it with confusion. The maids began to whisper frantically. You rose a brow at her outburst.

“And why is that? You have no say in royal affairs, kitchen maid.” Her eyes began to water, falling down her fat cheeks onto her fabric.

“P-please, d-don’t take my baby.” The room fell deadly silent after her plea. You ripped your hands from Hawks’ body, face morphing in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘your baby’?” Your eyes turned to Hawks, who sat silent. You could see the gears turning in his head to construct a lie.

“Hawks. What does she mean ‘your baby’?” His gears steamed before stopping abruptly, giving up on filing an excuse. His hands reached out to hold you.

“I can explain.” You moved quickly out of his range before halting him in his tracks.

“You can explain? Do you know how embarrassing that is to me? If it’s true, you’ve been cheating on me for months! Knowing that I couldn’t even bear for you!” Your heart pained you as the night you found out, reliving the shock and betrayal over again.

You were breaking character. Taking a deep breath, you turned away from your husband, a tear slowly streaking your face.

“We’ll talk about this when there aren't any spectators. Cara, bring out the special wine I’ve asked you to make for the celebration. I hope you two are happy.” Cara still stood on the spot, by fear and resistance. You turned to her; wide eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Now.” She ran to the kitchen, hand over mouth to hide her whimpers.

“Midoriya, help the pregnant lady out. It’ll be a shame if she broke her back or something.” Midoriya jumped up, running in the same direction as Cara.

“(Y/n), let me explain please—”

“There is nothing to explain; just enjoy your wine and celebrate.” The bitter sarcasm rolling off your tongue in waves. Cara and Midoriya entered the hall. Her eyes strong with will and face wiped of tears. Midoriya poured the wine for Hawks, filling his chalice to the brim. The winged king sighed and took an immediate gulp. You immediately turned to Cara, your eyes evoking sadness.

“I can’t even be in the same place as you two right now.” You stormed out of the dining room, leaving only the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor.

The candle lights flickered as Hawks entered your shared bedroom, dressed and cleaned for bed. You sat on your loveseat from the afternoon, now twirling a diamond ring on your finger. As he stood in front of you, your eyes remained on your hand.

“My love please forgive m—”

“Why?” You looked up at him; pupils dilated.

“Why should I?” He stepped back, startled to see the pain he had inflicted on you. He stared into your wide eyes for a moment longer until he knelt down, knees touching the red carpet’s wool. His hands clasped your own stopping the continuous twirl of your marriage symbol before wetting his dry lips.

“For a young royal bachelor, I was loved by all types of power-hungry men and women; they flocked me with compliments, ideas, whispers, promises. But you, you were the one that saw who I was behind my status, a young boy who lost his parents. A coward put into the place of a king before he could even blink. You saw the real me, and still, you didn’t turn away. We both embrace our vulnerabilities from each other, and if—” His Adam's apple bobbed, throat restricting as a tear fell from his eye. You shuffled in discomfort, your own tears brimming at his speech.

“—if I could take back what I had done, I would do so immediately, within a heartbeat. But she bears my child, and I...I can’t leave it as my father left me.” His neck strained to look up at you, forcing himself not to choke down a cry.

You laid your other hand on his own. Your tears were staining your cheek as you nodded your head frantically, taking him in your arms. He pulled you into a kiss, minty breath intertwining with your own as the candle flames swayed with the emotions.

The scream you let out in the morning had maids and guards rushing to your room. King Takami Keigo was found dead after you both went to sleep. Few hours from the coroner revealed he died of poison.

You walked down the winding stairs of the dungeon with Midoriya by your side. The last cell held a meager amount of light, only showing the mint green hair of Cara. She jumped at the sounds of your footsteps. You ambled up until the bars could touch your toes.

“To kill your very own king is a crime punishable by death.” She wracked in the chains, trying to get closer to you.

“I didn’t kill him! I swear it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” You took the chalice from Midoriya, holding it up to the ceiling as if you were inspecting it.

“This was the last thing he consumed before coming to bed, so the maids say.” Your eyes turned back to the ex-kitchen maid who burst into tears; head bowed in shame.

“Everything has pointed to you, but I understand. I’d kill if the love of my life betrayed me too. I’d use the same exact poison too, Aqua Tofana, the famous poison used by many hurt women to end their lovers.” Her head creaked back to your figure, eyes widening with the growing smirk on your face.

“Although the law states you should serve immediate death, I don’t want that precious baby to go along with you. It’s my last semblance of Keigo, after all. So, as Queen of Fukuoka, I have decided to spare you until the baby has been born. You will stay in this jail cell with ample nursing so my child will be born safe and healthy. That is all.”

You and Midoriya left the dark dungeon, Cara’s screams echoing through the hollow area. Your smirk never softening as you climbed up the stairs, hand still holding Keigo's chalice.

Midoriya laid anxious the whole time. After all, he was guilty of killing the king, adding the poison to the wine when Cara wasn’t looking. His silence finally broke.

“My Queen? Why did you make me...do that?” You halted your steps, pondering as you looked at the golden chalice.

“Keigo would’ve never loved me again. She gave him what I couldn’t, a child to love. He would’ve rather played father with an actual mother, a mother who’d know how to love a child. So I had to stop that before I lost my throne.” Your fingers skimmed the actual feather-covered by gold on the cup, feeling its ridges and bumps.

“Izuku?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“You would tell me when I’m wrong, right?

“Yes, my Queen.”

[heythatpenguinhere]

Change

*Happy early Thanksgiving!! I am thankful for all of your support and all these amazing fandoms and worlds to get lost in. Here’s another Rayllum fanfic to give you some love. Its a bit angsty, but full of love and fluff to enjoy. As always, thanks again for reading! I’m always open to ideas and prompts to write away to. (Pardon any errors, I hadn’t proofread it yet but was so excited to share it) 

A woman’s scream ripped through the magical woods of the Xadia. I pair of emerald eyes were torn violently awake at the sound and the familiarity of the voice. The lack of a warm body next to the man confirmed his worst fears. 

“Rayla!” He screamed. 

Callum tore the woven sheets off his body with fervor and began to search the small home frantically for his love. She had been right next to him when they had gone to bed. She had smiled as she tucked her body into his and closed her eyes to the night. He had soaked the bliss that came with knowing he was hers and she was his; that she was safe in his arms every night. Yet now she was missing and the only sign he had of her was her piercing scream mere moments again. 

“Callum!” A distant voice yelled back desperately. 

He turned his body to the voice’s direction and ran. Under the dim light in their home, he found Rayla leaned against the hallway wall. She was huddled in herself, doubled over in pain perhaps? 

He dropped to his knees in front of her, “Rayla! Rayla what is wrong?” He said scanning her body for injuries of any kind or the source of her pain. 

She seemed to be wincing for sure. “I-I don’t know. It just hurts! I think I’m... bleedin’...” 

Callum was instantly more alarmed now. “Bleeding where? Where does it hurt?” He said, holding onto her arms now to balance her. 

Rayla groaned, “My belly… it hurts… I’m bleedin’ under Callum!” She stated in frustration. 

Callum was incredibly more confused now and still panicked. He didn’t know why she would be in pain or bleeding especially from there. 

“Callum, don’t just sit there… get help!” She shouted at him and Callum shot up and out of their home in record time.

Rayla was hurt and he knew needed to get help, but Lord knows he didn’t want to face her wrath either. 

-

Rayla now lay in a cot resting. A local Elven healer was quick to come when noticing Callum’s frantic pleas for assistance luckily and was able to move her to the medical hut. While he examined her and even used some magic to look into further details, Callum couldn’t help but be on edge. Rayla was in pain and he couldn’t do anything to help her. Her grip on his hand was enough to restrict his blood flow, but he didn’t mind truthfully; he would grin and bare it to offer her whatever he could. The healer hummed to himself, expression pinched in concentration. As Rayla let out another groan of pain, he gestured to a woman who came with a vial of colored liquid. 

“I am going to administer some pain relief to her, to help her ailment.” He said kindly to the both of them. 

Rayla groaned, “It’s… about time!”

-

With Rayla now more calmed and relaxed, Callum could also take a slight break for himself. He was relieved when she was no longer stirring in pain or discomfort. He was still concerned as to what was wrong and if they could fix it.

“Rayla? I just want you to know that I’m here with you okay?” He said squeezing her hand. He still hadn’t let go of it yet. 

The tired Moonshadow elf before him smiled, an expression of care gracing her features. “I know. I know you are.”

-

“I’m WHAT?!” 

For the second time that night, Rayla’s voice broke through the air. It wasn’t a scream of pain this time, but rather something else.

“You’re with child Rayla. Congratulations are in order it would seem then! You both are to be parents.” The healer said, yet again much too kindly and unnerved by Rayla’s tone of voice. 

The two “parents-to-be” sat absolutely dumbfounded, mouths still gaping like a fish out of water. Rayla was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. She and Callum were going to have a baby. A baby them was happening…

“B-But how can that be? I’m an elf and Callum is a human! I-I’ve never heard of this happenin’ before!” She stated, stumbling over her words in disbelief as Callum had yet to move an inch. 

“It’s rare, but not unheard of. Elves and humans are similar enough in make up to procreate if desired, but there are still very few pairs like yourselves yet within the kingdoms. You both may very well be the first to do in hundreds of years! You’re making history literally.” He stated with hands expressive and excited. 

They both took a second to process more of what was being said to them as Rayla touched her flat stomach. There was an actual living, breathing, developing mix of her and Callum in there; this was really happening. Neither of them had given much thought into the possibility of kids. The couple was recently married as of about a year or so now and were still adjusting to young, married life; everything was about to change now. 

Rayla turned to face Callum, “We’re… we’re going to be parents.”

With a loud thunk noise, Callum fainted. 

-

“Please keep in mind that this pregnancy will be a bit difficult. We don’t have any real way of knowing your gestation duration and any complications that could occur from a halfling birth. I would recommend plenty of rest and before you object, please do so for you and your child’s sake.” The man noted on a scroll with notes for Rayla and Callum to take with them. 

To say Rayla was annoyed at this, was an understatement. Rayla did not do well with sitting still and just “resting”. 

Despite the irritation, she looked down at her belly, “You wee devil already changing things for us huh?” She said teasingly and rubbed it affectionately. 

Callum watched on, now having gained consciousness, at the sight before him. His wife and now their child sat in front of him; the tiny, defenseless life that surprised them both. Would he be a good dad? Would everything go well? Would Rayla get ill again like she did earlier? How complicated would things get? How were they going to prepare for a new life? The questions swirled around and around in his head, threatening to overwhelm him and take his breath away. 

“Callum?” Rayla’s voice pulled him from inside his head. 

He looked into her eyes to see uncertainty. She was still holding onto her belly. He didn’t quite know the words to say. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him. 

“I-I’m alright. I’m sorry Rayla… I didn’t ever want you to get hurt and I am sorry I didn’t consider the possibilities of you being in this state. I should have been more careful. I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll be here by your side always.” He said reaching out to grasp the hand around her stomach. 

“You big dumb human. I didn’t consider it either, but I’m happy. Really I am. We get to be parents now Callum. I know it may not be easy, but we’re a family. We have each other through this and I know you’ll be amazing dad. I love you.” She said, eyes tearing up. 

Those words reassured Callum to his core. Tears threatened to fall in his own eyes and he squeezed her hand before moving it to her belly. He moved closer and leaned down. 

“Hi little one, I’m your dad.”

-

Labor was a nightmare. Rayla had gone into labor around 8 months in and had complications. She had begun to hemorrhage at one point and Callum nearly fainted again as he saw the amount of blood being expelled. The healer had been right, the pregnancy would not be easy and the labor wouldn’t be either. Rayla took the contractions and labor like an absolute warrior however and Callum was overwhelmed with awe at his wife’s strength in those moments. 

It was a long process and no one knew what to expect when the baby was delivered. Would it look human or elf or even both? Would it be healthy at all? Callum was holding his breath and wishing to whatever he could that both Rayla and their child would be safe. 

After nearly a full day of labor, Rayla and Callum’s child was finally born. The child’s cries filled the air and mixed with cheers of excitement in the room. Their child was placed in Rayla’s tired arms quickly as the healers worked to finish tending to Rayla. Callum swore he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his eyes; their child and his wife together, gazing at each other. 

“It’s a girl!” 

The halfling was a perfect mix of the two of them: she had white shiny hair like Rayla, skin lighter than Callum’s but not tinted like Rayla’s own. She also had small markings on her face that curled from the sides of her closed eyes, along with a freckle under her left eye. When she opened her eyes, they were a hazel green color as well. 

“She’s so beautiful…” Rayla said now having relaxed further from labor. 

Callum could only nod in agreement and reached his hand out to her. Their daughter wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and he swore he melted right then and there. 

-

“Happy Birthday Sarai!” They both said as they walked into their daughter’s room. 

The little toddler squealed in joy and motioned to be picked up. 

Callum reached out and grabbed her in his arms. Sarai was one year old now. They couldn’t believe how the time had gone by! Their little surprise was blossoming every single day. Her white hair had grown with slight waves to it and she had two tiny horns developing now on her head (much to Rayla’s utter joy). She still remained a great mix of her two parents, but she surprisingly had her inherited from both their families as she had her grandmother’s freckled beauty mark and similar eye markings to her other grandmother. 

Sarai was loved by all around her. She was dotted on by her uncle and other family members constantly and even strangers could not help but marvel at the little doll-like child with two different backgrounds. Her parents had expected pushback from some due to her parentage, but the support outweighed the negative. And truthfully Rayla had no issue pulling out her blades if anyone ever got too touchy about her daughter either.

She was truly the joy of their lives. She wasn’t expected, but now the two of them could not imagine life without her in it filling it with newfound joys. The lessons they were learning as parents and the growth they together had was amazing. The depth of their love for each other and Sarai kept growing. Their little family was perfect and the future of Xadia had never looked brighter.

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 3 - Vino y Pasta

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier 

CHAPTER THREE Vino y Pasta

.

"Maybe this was not the best idea."

Matthew took one look at Francis' worried expression and felt his heart sink to his stomach. Francis had changed his mind. Matthew had been too boring, he hadn't spoken enough, he'd spoken too much, he didn't know how to flirt properly, he'd done this all wrong… "Oh. That's okay. I mean, I understand if you've changed…"

"No, no, no, my dear!" Francis smiled reassuringly and placed his hand lightly on Matthew's back. Matthew felt the touch like a burning, swelling spark beneath his skin. "Asking you on a date was, I believe, the best idea I have had all year. I'm just not certain if I chose the best place."

"Oh?" Matthew glanced around the bright, busy restaurant. What could Francis possibly be concerned about? The place seemed perfect.

"No, it should be fine." Francis spoke softly, as though to himself. "I'm sure they don't work on Fridays…" He was interrupted by a shriek.

"FRANCIS!" A short, grinning, amber-haired young man bounded across the full restaurant, pushing past bustling waiters and crowded tables, and threw his arms around Francis. "François, grand frère, I haven't seen you for so long! Not since Tuesday! Did you bring me cupcakes? No? That's okay, you can make me some for tomorrow night, with rainbow icing and sprinkles and you are going to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, aren't you? Did you know Antonio told him? Lovino was so cranky. Well, crankier than usual."

"Ah, Feli," said Francis, a forced smile on his lips. "So you are working tonight."

"Of course! It's been so busy we need all the staff we can get!"

Francis took Matthew's arm and started to slowly back away. "Is that right? I'm sure there are no free tables, then. Oh well, I guess we will be leaving…"

"No! Don't be silly! There's always room for family. I'll get you a table. LOVINO!" Francis winced at the shout and smiled apologetically at Matthew. The young man burst into a steady stream of rapid-fire Italian, quickly answered by further shouting from the kitchen across the room. No one in the restaurant seemed to take notice.

"I'm sorry," said Francis softly, speaking into Matthew's ear. "Like I said, maybe this wasn't…"

"No, it's fine!" Matthew had never been to a place like this before. The sound of loud speech and boisterous laughter blasted from every table; the smell of tomato and roasting garlic filled the air; vivid drawings of colourful food and the Italian countryside covered the walls. It felt warm, lively, friendly. In some strange way, it reminded Matthew of Francis' patisserie. The cheerful young man turned back towards them and spoke again in English.

"I'll show you to your usual table, of course you know the way though, you're lucky it's free because there's so many people tonight and oh!" The man broke off, stared wide-eyed at Matthew, and gasped loudly. "Hello!"

"Uh. Hello."

"Hello!" The little Italian put his hands to his mouth then wrung them frantically. "I'm so rude. Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I'm so rude, I didn't even… hello."

Matthew tried not to laugh. "Hello."

"Feliciano," said Francis, breaking smoothly into the short, broken excuse for a conversation. "This is Matthew. Matthew, my little cousin Feliciano."

Matthew held out his hand but, to his surprise, Feliciano threw his arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Benvenuto, Matthew! I'm so, so happy to meet you! Welcome to Casa Vargas! Wow, you must be really special, you're the first one of Francis' boyfriends he's ever brought here! Well, I say boyfriends, but everyone knows Francis only uses them for s…"

"SO!" Francis shouted. "How about that table, Feliciano?"

"Oh, yes!" Feliciano released Matthew and bounced off into the restaurant. "Follow me!"

Matthew tried not to dwell on that earlier statement of Feliciano's, instead allowing Francis to take his hand and lead him through the bright, crowded room. He wondered if his work suit was tidy enough, then wondered if he was overdressed, then worried whether Francis expected to pay the bill, then hoped people weren't staring at their clasped hands, then Francis looked back and smiled. "I had no idea it would be this busy!"

Every doubt and worry flew from Matthew's mind. His cheeks turned warm and he returned the smile shyly. "I suppose that means the food is fantastic!"

His eyes fixed on Francis', Matthew barely noticed they had stopped until Feliciano turned and gestured theatrically to the table beside them. "Your table, signori! I shall return with your wine shortly!" He stared at Matthew, giggled, said, "Hello," once more, then ran off into the kitchen. Matthew reluctantly released Francis' hand, felt the need to let out a deep breath, and sat slowly at the table.

"He's, uh… cheerful."

"You have no idea, mon cher." Francis threw a quick, strangely nervous glance after Feliciano before taking the seat opposite Matthew.

The table was situated in a back corner of the restaurant, slightly removed from the other diners, which gave it a private, secluded feel. This had all happened so fast, but it suddenly struck Matthew that he was on a date – a date with a man he was very, very interested in. When was the last time that had happened? Actually, when had that ever happened? His natural shyness overtaking him, Matthew could only stare at the table. This was real now, this was a date, not just a casual morning at the patisserie before work. Matthew did not quite know what to say, what to do with his hands. He absently pushed the wine glass across the crisp white tablecloth, then reached out and touched the small candle holder in the centre of the table. Unexpected heat spread through his fingers. "Oh!" he said in surprise. "It's real!"

"Excuse me?"

Matthew looked up to see Francis staring amusedly at Matthew's fingers brushing over the little glass jar. Matthew immediately dropped his hand. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just, so many restaurants have those fake candles these days. It is nice to see a real one. It's more…"

"Romantique?"

Matthew felt his lips twitch and his skin warm at that familiar bright-eyed smile, that lilting, teasing tone. "I was going to say, honest."

"Of course. That describes the place quite well, really."

Matthew glanced around at the tables of families arguing over pizza, the couples gazing at each other over glasses of wine. "It is lovely. Warm and friendly. And your family own it?"

Francis nodded. "The Italian branch."

"There are branches?"

"Darling, my grandfather scattered children across the Mediterranean like petals to the wind. I am quite certain that entire future generations in the region would be able to trace their ancestry back to the man." Francis winked. "If only his grandchildren were the type to procreate."

Matthew leant forward, intrigued. "Which they're not?"

At that moment, Feliciano reappeared like a colourful miniature tornado beside them, grinning and bouncing and brandishing a bottle of red wine. "La vostra bottiglia di vino rosso, signori! Or, votre bouteille de vin rouge, Messieurs!"

"Or, Ihre Flasche Rotwein, Herren." Matthew shot a wry smirk at the bouncing brunet, who went immediately still, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. Matthew started to worry that he might have been rude or inappropriate, when Feliciano finally shouted a response.

"O mio Dio, Matthew, you speak German!"

"Oh, um..." Matthew blinked a few times, taken aback. He had only meant it as a light-hearted, throwaway reply to Feliciano's swift change of language. "Well, only a tiny bit, that was probably incorrect, I was just…"

"Can you teach me to say something?" Feliciano interrupted eagerly, his expression bright and earnest and intense. He didn't seem to notice Francis take the wine from his hand and proceed to pour it into the two glasses on the table. Matthew looked to him for help but Francis just suppressed a laugh behind a falsely innocent expression.

"Well, I'll try if I…"

"Can you tell me how to say, 'I love you?'" asked Feliciano excitedly.

Matthew's features relaxed into a soft smile. What a charming thing to ask. "Of course. It's 'Ich liebe dich'."

Feliciano's eyes were as wide as saucers and he practically jumped on the soles of his feet. "Oh! Thank you so much! Can you write it down for me? I'll have to get you a pen but ooh, first, also, how do you say, 'You're handsome and perfect'?"

Matthew bit back a laugh. Feliciano was too adorable. "Sie sind hübsch und perfekt."

"Grazie, Matthew!" said Feliciano breathlessly. "Just one more thing. How do you say, 'Fuck me harder, you magnificent, filthy German sex pig?'"

Matthew gasped, choked, and promptly broke into a fierce coughing fit. Francis smoothly pressed a glass of wine into his hand. Matthew gulped it down swiftly.

"Feli," said Francis lightly, "I don't think Matthew's German vocabulary extends that far. Why don't you ask Gilbert?"

Feliciano's face lit up. "Of course! Gilbert! Why didn't I think of that already? Merci, François, grand frère!" Feliciano bounced off again happily. Matthew glared at Francis over his glass, his eyes slightly wet from coughing.

"Why do I get the feeling that was quite a cruel suggestion?"

Francis shrugged innocently and took a sip of wine. "I've no idea, mon cher."

Matthew drank as well, bringing the last of his coughing under control. Well, that was certainly unexpected. "So, who is the magnificent, filthy German… uh…" Matthew trailed into a mumble and Francis giggled airily.

"Gilbert's little brother. He and Feliciano have been together a year or so."

"I see. So that's what you were referring to, earlier."

Francis winked, his dark blond hair falling across his sparkling blue eyes. "Let's just say that Grandpa has long resigned himself to the fact that he is unlikely to have great-grandchildren."

"Oh." Matthew paused to adjust to this new information. Meeting Francis' friends Gilbert and Roderich had been eye-opening in itself. Matthew was not used to meeting other gay men so openly; not in everyday situations like this. Yet Francis seemed to be surrounded by them. It was a far cry from Matthew's sheltered, small town upbringing. "So you know a lot of…" Matthew faltered over the sentence, but pressed on resolutely, "…gay men, do you?"

Francis laughed and settled back in his chair. "Darling, you've no idea!"

Matthew finished his glass of wine, feeling strangely small and ignorant. "I can't even imagine. I knew two other gay guys growing up. And one was my brother Alfred."

Francis' eyes lit up with interest. "You never told me you had a brother."

Matthew immediately regretted bringing the subject up. Even living in another city, another country, Alfred had overshadowed Matthew their entire lives. "Half brother, actually. We weren't even raised together, except for the holidays. His father is American - that's where he lives. The general consensus is that he's a more popular, more successful, better looking version of me."

Francis frowned disbelievingly. "More popular and successful, possibly. Better looking? I simply refuse to believe it, darling, unless this Alfred be a God."

Matthew scoffed incredulously, even as his neck burned at the praise. "Some might agree with that assessment of Alfred's divinity." Matthew was used to living in Alfred's shadow. But Francis made him feel special, for the first time in his life, so he had so far avoided bringing up the topic of his famous brother. But it was not the kind of thing he could hide forever. Matthew sighed deeply, met Francis' gaze evenly, and prepared himself for the gasping and gushing he had come to expect on this topic. "My brother is Alfred F Jones."

Francis' eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his face brightened in cautious understanding. "Oh! The baseball player… no?"

Matthew blinked a few times, then had to choke back a sigh of relief. "Gridiron."

"Gridiron…" Francis tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Ah oui, the silly game with the helmets. Yes, there was that scandal last year, wasn't there? The famous quarterback who came out and introduced his male English lover to the media. I vaguely remember seeing it in the papers. That was your brother?"

Matthew nodded. "I'm surprised you only heard it in passing. It caused a media meltdown in the States."

Francis waved a hand dismissively before reaching over to refill Matthew's glass. "I do not pay much attention to the news. I prefer to focus on positive things. Like my work, my patisserie. My friends. Art, music. Beautiful places. Beautiful people." Francis' compelling gaze held Matthew's as he pushed the glass towards him. "You, my dear." Francis' tone was blatantly seductive, the flash of his eyes sending a familiar shiver firing from Matthew's stomach downwards. Matthew picked up the glass to hide his reddening cheeks, but refused to lower his eyes. The lingering gaze was abruptly interrupted when a chair slammed down beside them and a dark haired man fell into it heavily. He leant against the table, his green eyes wide and unblinking, a daft but strangely discerning smile on his face.

"Hi."

"Hi," replied Matthew uncertainly, leaning away and holding the wine glass to his chest. What now? Another friend or cousin of Francis'? Why did they keep interrupting at the times like this?

The man's eyes flicked between Matthew and Francis, his expression positively beaming. "Hi."

Matthew wasn't sure whether to again respond in kind. Francis let out a resigned sigh. "Matthew, this is Antonio, a particularly irritating friend of mine. Antonio, can I help you? What are you even doing here?"

Antonio didn't answer. He leant towards Francis and hissed through clenched teeth, "Gilbert told me you had a boyfriend."

Matthew's stomach flipped at the word. Boyfriend… Francis just rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

"He's cute." Antonio spoke in an exaggerated whisper.

"I know."

"He chose the éclair, didn't he?"

Matthew felt his cheeks burn. Did all of Francis' friends know about that? Francis glared at Antonio, who just smiled at Matthew obliviously. "What is this… this thing you're doing?"

Antonio turned to Francis, puzzled. "Thing?"

Francis let out an exasperated breath and touched his forehead. "This whispering thing. He can still hear you, you stupid Spaniard, he's right there."

Antonio scratched his head, turned back to Matthew, and broke back into a grin. "So pleased to meet you, Matthew. You're much better than looking than most of Francis' dates."

Now Francis hissed through clenched teeth. "Shut up."

Antonio ignored him. "Not that they're not good looking, only the very best for our Francis!"

Francis smiled desperately. "Please shut up."

Antonio beamed brightly. "So it's a compliment, you see."

Francis looked about ready to grab Antonio by the throat. "Oh mon Dieu, why can't you ever just shut up?"

Matthew listened silently, a small concern prodding gently at his mind. Feliciano had mentioned Francis' dates earlier, also. And then there was Francis and Gilbert's strange, whispered conversation that afternoon. Maybe Francis really did have some secrets hidden away…

Antonio waved a hand in Francis' face. "Shush, Francis. Matthew, you are coming to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, yes?"

Matthew shook the concern away and told himself not to be silly. So Francis went on a few dates. So what? That didn't mean that he wasn't interested in Matthew. After all, most guys dated a lot. But Matthew had never acted or spoken with anyone like this. It was like Francis brought out a part of him he never knew was there. And now he couldn't help wondering if Francis felt the same. He couldn't completely silence the tiny voice that asked – Does Francis treat everyone like this?

Matthew suddenly remembered he had been asked a question, but Francis spoke before he could answer. "Speaking of Gil's surprise party, Antonio…"

Antonio groaned loudly. "Oh, will everyone stop already, you know what he's like! It wasn't even me who told him, Feliciano let it slip that we were doing something! And then Gil cornered me in the kitchen, and threatened me with a spoon, and said that he'd tell Lovino about that lap dance in New York…"

"What lap dance in New York?"

Matthew felt the atmosphere turn cold. He glanced up at the young man beside them. One hand held a platter of bread and olives; the other rested rigidly on his hip. He looked very similar to Feliciano, but with darker hair and an angrier expression. Antonio turned white, then chuckled nervously. "Lovino, baby! That was something involving Gilbert, nothing to do with me!" Antonio shot Francis a manically gleeful stare. "Right, Francis?"

Francis shrugged distantly, his expression mildly triumphant. "I've nothing to do with this, mon ami." Antonio narrowed his eyes, but Francis just smirked.

Lovino raised his chin and stared down at Antonio shrewdly. "Hmm. We'll see. Antonio, get your fabulous ass back in the kitchen. We're understaffed and you're supposed to be helping."

"I'm being social!" Antonio whined indignantly.

Lovino tilted his head slowly, a dangerous glint in his eye. "New York, was it?"

Antonio almost knocked the chair over in his haste to get to his feet. "I must be off! See you tomorrow night, Matt! Francis…" Antonio leant over the table and hissed in Francis' ear, just loud enough for Matthew to overhear. "Not one word. Don't forget that I've got far more dirt on you than you'll ever have on me, amigo." Antonio straightened up, kissed Lovino on the cheek, and rushed back to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Lovino," said Francis, his pleasant tone starting to sound a little strained. "Matthew, this is my other little Italian cousin."

Lovino dropped the platter on the table with a dull thud. He kept his eyes fixed on Francis and spoke before Matthew could say a word. "Whatever. Here's your entrée. What lap dance in New York?"

Francis' expression remained impassive as he picked up an olive from the plate. "Do you know, I believe you should bring that up with Roderich."

Lovino glared at Francis, then glanced sideways at Matthew. Matthew smiled tentatively back. "Right," said Lovino. He put his hands on the table and leant over Francis. "You'd better not be hiding anything from me, cugino. Don't go forgetting the things I know about you." Francis popped the olive in his mouth and smiled. Lovino stood straight, nodded at Matthew, then turned and marched into the kitchen.

Francis closed his eyes, released a deep breath, took a long sip of wine, and smiled apologetically. "I am truly sorry. But, where were we? Tell me more about… you." Francis wagged his eyebrows and Matthew suppressed a laugh. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and tried to look unimpressed.

"Really? Now? That's your line?"

Francis groaned and fell back in his chair. "It's no use, is it. I'm completely obstructed in here."

Matthew lowered his head to hide his amused smile. It was nice to see Francis as the flustered one, for once. "Well," he said, brushing his hair back and trying to wipe his smile away, "I've been telling you about me all week. There's not much more to tell."

Francis raised an eyebrow deviously. "There is always more to tell."

"Oh?" Matthew straightened up and raised his chin. "All right then, François." Francis upper lip twinged at the teasing tone. "Tell me. Why did you leave Paris? Some scandal, perhaps?" Matthew gasped softly, dramatically. "A jilted lover? A political outrage? A dangerous past starting to catch up with you?"

A tiny eyebrow twitch; the slightest rise at the corner of Francis' lip. He lowered his lashes and said breathily, "Do you really wish to know, mon cher?"

Matthew rested his chin on his hand and leant forward across the table. "I told you once, remember? I'd love to hear all your dirty secrets."

Francis groaned at the back of his throat, then sucked in a breath through his teeth. He shot forward until he was so close Matthew could feel his warm breath on his cheek. "If you insist. The truth is…"

"Where is he?" A deep, accented voice suddenly boomed through the noisy restaurant. "Where is the boy my Francis finally brought home to his grandpa?"

Matthew laughed in disbelieving disappointment. Francis closed his eyes and put his hands to his head. "Mathieu, my dear, we can leave right now…"

Matthew sat back and smirked. "I'm actually sort of enjoying watching you squirm."

Francis' blue eyes flashed then narrowed. "You sadistic little… Grandpa Roma!" Francis stood quickly and was immediately embraced by a tall, dark haired man who kissed both his cheeks. Matthew smiled pleasantly, prepared himself to remain polite and quiet and civil, and wondered how long this interruption would take.

"Francis, my boy! Where have you been lately? Too busy for your own family? No time to see your old grandpa?" Francis' grandfather looked surprisingly young. He had the same features as Feliciano and Lovino, but Matthew could see Francis in the man's wild gestures and dancing eyes. He held Francis at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Are you eating properly, Francis? You can't live on cake and biscuits, my boy!"

Francis' face was red. Matthew couldn't help thinking it was rather endearing. "Yes, Grandpa, I know. Now, please…"

"And, Matthew!" Roma released Francis and turned. Matthew scrambled to his feet and held out his hand, but, once again, was pulled into a strong hug. "Welcome, benvenuto!"

"Um… pleased to meet you…" Matthew choked out. Roma released him and he gasped for air. He was then pushed to arms length as Roma looked him over. From the corner of his eye Matthew could see Francis standing with one hand over his face.

"Oh, aren't you handsome!" cried Roma. "Good taste does run in the family. Well done, Francis, my boy, well done! What do you do, Matthew?"

"I'm an accountant," Matthew answered quickly.

"Accountant, hmm? What kind of tax breaks can you swing for us?" Matthew tried to stammer an uncertain response before Roma clapped him on the shoulder and laughed raucously. "Joking, I'm joking, Matthew!"

"Are you done?" asked Francis through tightly stretched lips. "I didn't actually realise the entire family would be working tonight." Francis' voice was dangerously strained.

"Of course you didn't! I'm sure you have more important things to do than be interrupted by your obnoxious relatives all evening. So…" Roma whistled and, seconds later, a waiter appeared carrying a plastic bag of food containers and a second bottle of wine. Roma smiled at Matthew and winked. "So get out of here."

Matthew decided he liked Francis' grandpa.

.

"This is incredible!" said Matthew for the third time, halfway through the most delicious carbonara he'd ever tasted. He had barely even paused so far to worry about the mess he was probably making, trying to eat fettuccine off his knees from a plastic container with a plastic fork. Of course he knew there were a few sauce stains on his shirt, and he was hyper-aware of Francis' eyes on him, but these smooth, rich, bursting tastes on his tongue made all of that too unimportant to worry about. Francis laughed softly beside him.

"The best pasta outside of Italy. Perhaps, even, anywhere."

Matthew stared out at the bright lights reflected on the water. This place really wasn't as bad as he had thought at first. Sitting here on this bench beside Francis, eating pasta and passing a wine bottle back and forth, the city actually looked quite beautiful. The night was strangely warm despite the season, a light dusting of stars shone faintly above the glittering skyline, and few people passed them where they sat on the walkway by the river. Matthew swallowed another mouthful of the creamy pasta, then glanced at Francis from the corner of his eye. "So, making magic with food is a family trait, is it?"

"A gift, and a curse." Matthew raised an eyebrow curiously. Francis' eyes twinkled with familiar mischief. "Legend has it that a distant relative was head chef to an Emperor of Rome."

"Oh?" With an effort, Matthew kept his twitching lips from turning in a smile. "Which one?" he asked, straight faced.

Francis waved a hand with effortless grace. He had finished his own pasta, but was still as perfectly neat and refined as always. Francis ate as elegantly as he did everything else. "Oh, one of those emperors who liked his food, you know."

"Caligula?" Matthew guessed randomly.

"Oui, yes, that will do. Anyway, this story goes, that the Emperor was to hold a very large, very important feast. The night before the feast, he called his head chef to the throne. The Emperor then told him that if he did not create the most wondrous, most amazing, most delicious meal ever tasted, then he would have the chef crucified." Francis paused to take a sip of wine from the bottle, then passed it to Matthew. "The chef was, naturally, rather worried. So he called upon the dark God of the underworld, Hades."

"As you do." Matthew hid a smirk by taking a swig from the bottle.

Francis' eyes narrowed just slightly, but he continued smoothly. "He made a pact with the God. In exchange for the greatest culinary talent known to the world, the chef would give his soul to the dark underworld. And in return, all his descendants would be blessed with the same talent, and the same curse. Unless…" Francis trailed off teasingly.

"Unless?" prompted Matthew, his eyes held to Francis' in an amused, magnetic gaze.

"Unless, through their talent, the descendant is able to make just one good, pure hearted person fall in love with them. If we can do this, we are saved from the curse."

Matthew raised his eyebrows sceptically. "One of pure heart? It's like a Disney movie."

Francis' voice, always smooth as liquid sugar, came slightly deep, amused, and almost rough. "Someone like you, mon cher."

A shudder of desire rippled through Matthew's spine, but he laughed dismissively and looked back out at the river. "How many boys have you given that line to, I wonder."

Francis ignored him. "But, there is a catch."

Matthew took a sip of the strong red wine. "Isn't there always."

"I feel you aren't taking this seriously, my dear." Matthew felt his eyes drawn back, and Francis' eyes seemed to challenge him. The look set Matthew's skin afire. He attempted a sarcastic smile, but wasn't sure he pulled it off.

"Oh no, please. Tell me. What's the catch?"

Francis reached for the wine bottle, wrapping his hand around Matthew's. Matthew felt the touch shoot downwards through his veins. Francis' returned Matthew's teasing smile… his was much more successful. "If we are able to make this good, pure hearted person fall in love with us, then we gain our soul… but we lose our talent."

"Is that right?" Matthew was fairly certain that his breathy tone ruined his attempt at sarcasm. "If that's the case then… is it worth it?"

Francis slowly raised the bottle to his lips, not releasing Matthew's hand around it. He drank slowly, his eyes not moving from Matthew's. "Love or renown. It is an easy choice, no?"

Matthew felt suddenly too vivid, too aware. Francis' firm warmth beside him, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the siren flash of his eyes. But even in this close, falling, blood-quickening moment, Matthew tried to shake the worries from his head, his concerns about the constant mentions of dates and boyfriends, the nagging doubt about how many times Francis had said these words. "It is an interesting legend," he finally managed to say. "Do you think you will evade the curse?"

Francis smiled and winked. "I'm working on it."

Matthew dropped his gaze, his neck burning. He put the lid back on the plastic container and placed it on the bench beside him, then took another sip from the wine bottle. He was beginning to really feel it's effects. "So, Francis," he asked abruptly. "Why did you leave?"

"Leave?" asked Francis, confused.

"Why did you leave Paris for Canada?"

Francis turned to face Matthew on the bench, then rested his elbow on the backrest behind them. "I hunger for new experiences, Mathieu. You never know what life will bring you. Sometimes it is hard to leave what you have always known; but then, sometimes it brings you something you would otherwise never have dreamt of."

Matthew felt warmth fill his chest at the words. It was like Francis was describing Matthew's own experience. He never would have dreamt that leaving his small, quiet town would lead him to someone like Francis. The entire evening since they had left the restaurant had flowed evenly, easily. It was so natural to talk with Francis, to just be with him. But more than natural; it was exciting. The not so subtle glances, the bright and hidden smiles, the flicks of hair and bitten lips and brief brushes of hands and feet. The awareness that they both knew what was going on and where this was leading; the sweet anticipation and aching wait to get there. But now that the night was growing quieter, and the silences between them longer, Matthew could not stop his mind going again through the earlier conversations. He asked the question before he properly thought it through. "Do you go on a lot of dates, Francis?"

Francis' sharp breath and brief silence gave the answer. But then he laughed flippantly. "Please, it is nothing. You know how friends and family are. They love to make such drama out of nothing."

Matthew accepted the response for the moment. After all, it was not his place to pry. "I understand. Alfred is the same."

"I would like to meet Alfred."

The very thought of it drained the blood from Matthew's face. He shook his head, eyes wide. "No."

Francis smiled, even as his expression turned puzzled. "Why not?"

Matthew said it before he could stop himself. "Because everyone likes him best."

Francis looked amused and sceptical. "We will see about that. But let us not speak of your brother. You did not tell me about work today."

Matthew could feel his face fall. He shrugged and stared at the river. "There is nothing to tell. It was the same as every day."

"You do not like your job."

Matthew's eyes shot up. Francis rested his chin on his hand, a mixture of curiosity and empathy on his face. Matthew sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "It is a job. I am lucky."

"But it is not a passion."

Matthew frowned, a little annoyed – what an unfair thing to say. "Very few people get to do what they love, Francis."

"And what do you love?" Matthew didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. Francis just asked again. "What did you want to be? As a child?"

Matthew laughed shortly. "A professional hockey player."

"And why did you give up?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's not a very feasible goal, is it?"

"Well, even if it is not... you love to skate? To play?"

Matthew looked down into the almost empty bottle as he thought about the question. He did love skating - so much. He hadn't thought of it in years. Because, well… because it was pointless, wasn't it? "Well… yes, but…"

"Do you still skate?" Matthew looked up at that. In the reflected light from the river, Francis' eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

"No. I have no time. But..." Matthew was unsure why he paused.

Francis tilted his head slightly. "But?"

"Well..." Memories rose unbidden. Gliding alone on a lake of ice as his breath misted before him and the sun descended in the clear, darkening sky. Racing across a busy skating rink, easily dodging slower skaters and leaving Alfred struggling to catch up behind. The heart racing excitement before every game, the wild, giddy thrill of winning which nothing since had ever managed to match. "I loved hockey as a kid. Even just skating around on the ice, on my own. I always thought it would be nice to own a little skating rink, one without the politics and snobbery you sometimes get. Just somewhere friendly, where kids could learn, with hockey and dance lessons and a little café by the rink." Matthew shrugged and brushed his hair back, a little embarrassed. "Huh. I've never told anyone that." Matthew startled when he felt Francis' hand touch his, brushing the hair from his face. The touch raised goosebumps on Matthew's neck.

Francis met Matthew's gaze, and was quiet for a few moments. His voice, when he spoke, was not teasing or laughing or rough. It was simply honest. "I hope to hear many more things you have never told anyone."

.

The walk to Francis' patisserie took twice as long as it should have. They ambled along slowly, arms almost touching, Matthew's stomach twisting in knots every time their hands brushed together briefly. They had barely spoken since leaving the river, but it felt perfectly comfortable like this. Like they did not need to speak. When Francis suddenly stopped it took Matthew a few moments to notice why - they were standing at the patisserie door. His twisting stomach flipped completely. He turned slowly to face Francis, their eyes meeting level.

"So. Well. Um. Thank you for your company." Matthew found himself reverting to politeness, as he always did when slightly nervous. "And for asking me to dinner. I had a wonderful time."

"I can not apologise enough for earlier..." Francis looked down at the ground and ran a hand through his loose blond hair. "Ah, it was a complete disaster."

Matthew snickered softly. "Well, yes. But interesting."

Francis sighed dramatically and raised his eyes from the ground to the sky. "How I wanted out first date to be perfect and romantic, darling. Not… 'interesting.'"

"Oh, it wasn't so bad." Matthew was actually rather relieved that Francis was not always as suave and perfectly charming as he had been at first. Matthew did not know how long he could have kept up with that. "Besides, this is turning out rather 'perfect and romantic' right here."

"Hm." Francis sighed softly and lowered his eyes again. "I do believe you may be correct, Monsieur."

Matthew's heart beat faster at Francis' piercing stare. "Besides, I enjoyed meeting your family. And I'll get to meet more of your friends tomorrow also, won't I?"

Francis' eyes narrowed, his expression slightly devious. "You're meeting far too many from my side. I shall have to get even, my dear."

Matthew shrugged apologetically. "It's only Alfred on my side, I'm afraid. Or, well, there is Kumajiro."

Francis' eyebrows shot up. He looked rather thrown. "Kumajiro?"

Matthew met Francis' eye as evenly as he could manage. "Yes. He lives with me. He shares all my secrets, and sleeps in my bed every day, and watches over me every evening." At Francis' puzzled expression, Matthew gave in and smiled. "My teddy bear."

Francis' face softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well. Just when I think you can get no more adorable, my darling."

Matthew looked down and wondered just where this was going: the constant eye contact, the hand brushing, this fluttering heat and this warm, familiar feeling. But he didn't want to push, he didn't want to mistake this, he didn't… but then Francis took a step towards him and rested his hand lightly on Matthew's hip. Matthew's eyes flew up and his lips parted. Heat spread from Francis' hand over his hip, across his back, through his stomach, shooting lower and spreading like fire. Francis' blue eyes burned into his and sent a flutter through Matthew's shoulders. He leant closer and, just as Matthew realised Francis was about to kiss him, he closed the final gap himself. Their lips touched firmly, softly, and Matthew moaned, unable to stop it.

This culmination of the week's glances and touches and playful words shot through Matthew like a jolt of electricity. He rested his hands on Francis' shoulders, then lowered them over his back. Francis pulled him closer by the hips and thrust further into the kiss. And oh, not that Matthew had a lot to compare him to, but Francis was the most amazing kisser in Matthew's limited experience. His tongue so light and firm, his lips gentle but strong, his soft hair tickling Matthew's cheek and smelling faintly of lavender; the overwhelming sense of Francis' feel and scent, the taste of tomato and mint and still the faintest hint of chocolate… Matthew reluctantly broke the kiss to gasp for air, faintly aware that he had barely breathed for a minute or so. He laughed shakily, his arms still holding to Francis firmly.

"Well," said Francis breathlessly, his lips brushing Matthew's as he spoke, "I suppose it is true what they say about hockey players."

Matthew quickly wracked his brains for an explanation. "Something about sticks?"

Francis stifled an amused snicker. "No. That they find an opening and get it in." Matthew just stared for a moment, a little thrown off. Thankfully, Francis clarified. "Hockey players. Find an opening. It's a dreadfully bad pun, I know. Um... this is terribly awkward. Can we just kiss again, please?"

Matthew nodded quickly. "Yes." The second kiss was as powerful as the first, but with bright, uncontainable laughter rising between their lips. Matthew had never felt something so right as this, so comfortable, so perfectly natural and easy and knee-weakingly arousing.

But what now? Was Francis going to ask him to come in? Was that how this worked? Matthew had only been on a few dates, but from what everyone said Francis seemed to have been on so many. He suddenly worried again just what that meant. Then he worried about that strange look of conflict in Francis' eyes, that slight uncertainty in his face, and again Matthew feared he had done something wrong. He started to drop his hands, but Francis grasped his arms at the last minute. "Have breakfast with me."

Matthew could only nod. "What time do you want me?" The words came out breathier than he intended. Francis groaned.

"Don't tempt me. As early as you can be here, darling. I start baking at four."

Matthew bit his lip, nodded, and tried to tell himself this was a good sign. Francis wasn't inviting him in, but he obviously still wanted to see him – he probably just wanted to take things slowly. "I like to sleep in on Saturday," said Matthew in what he hoped was an indifferent tone. "Shall we say, eight?"

"Mm." Francis pulled Matthew close again by the waist. All thoughts of indifference flew away at Francis' lips on his cheek, his lips, his jaw, his ear… "I shall await your arrival with bated breath and maple syrup crepes."

Matthew laughed shakily at the hot breath on his ear. "Then I shan't be late… mon cher."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Ocean Eyes  -  Three

Steve Rogers X Reader Mini Series

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Female!Mermaid!Reader

Summary: You’re in custody at the tower and no it’s time for you to reveal your tragic past to these ‘heroes’ who want nothing but to find out about you then drop you into the ocean.

Warnings: Angst, Torture, Descriptive Deaths, Descriptive Injuries,

Word Count: 4.7K

A/N: I’m baaaaack!!! I have so much inspiration and a lot of shit is gonna be coming so be prepared!! I hope y’all enjoy the third instalment of the ‘Ocean Eyes’ series! It’s gonna get kinda spicy!!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist 

You wake up in a large tank, the water just a bit too warm for liking. 

“I didn’t really think mermaids would... sink to sleep,” Steve notes when you break the surface. Your eyes flash to him. He sits in a chair a few feet away from where you are, a thick pane of glass between you two. 

“So I see my coffin has been exchanged for a small pool. How sweet.” He frowns and gets up to walk to the glass. “I really don’t want anything to happen to you. We just need answers.” 

You nod, swimming in a circle then pulling yourself out to sit on the ledge of the in-ground freshwater pool. “I would much rather not have a pane of glass between us. And not so many spectators.” You look pointedly towards the cameras in the corners of the room. 

“Just a precaution incase-” 

“Incase I wanted to harm you. You expect me to trust that you won’t hurt me but you don’t trust me not to hurt you? If I wanted any of you dead you’d be dead. Even that gravelly voiced female who has no manners whatsoever.” Steve chuckles then stands up, walking to the glass wall and typing in a code. 

A door opens and he walks in, his finger pressed to his ear. “Tony calm down. She’s right. We’ve given her no reason to trust us. I don’t think she’ll hurt me. And if she does then you can say I told you so.” He stands a few feet away from you and you look him up and down. He’s exchanged his suit for a pair of beige khaki pants and a tight black t-shirt.

“So what questions do you have for me? And could you please disable the microphones? The high-pitched squealing is hurting my head.” You glare in the direction of the noises. “Stark cut audio. I’ll be fine. Bucky and Nat are waiting outside.” The noise stops and you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “Why were you working with Hydra?” He asks softly. 

“A few decades ago... nearly five... I was at home with the rest of my pod. We lived deep in a trench in the Atlantic. My father was the leader of our pod so naturally he had a lot of children with his wife -my mother- Ariadné. There were fifteen of us in total. Nine girls, six boys. My sisters all started going off and finding mermen to be with. I stayed with my little brothers until they too started going off. All excepted little Tobias. He was only a child.” You fiddle with your webbed fingers as pain spreads through you at the memory.

“Then one day, one of my older sisters came home and told our father about a human man she found. He claimed to love her. He wanted to know about us, about what we were. Where we were. My father, being the protector, forbid her from seeing him again because of the previous slaughterings. Men would find us and kill us brutally. But she... she disobeyed him. She went to the man that night and they made love. Little did she know that he was only with her for one purpose.” You pause and swallow hard before continuing.

“The next day... we were doing a seasonal migration. Taking the pod with the southern currents when... they came... They found us because of my older sister. She was dead long before any of us could blink and they used her gills... her scales... her tears... to enable themselves to breathe underwater, as I found out later.” A tear drips down your cheek.

“They killed my father first. Then my mother. It was smart, taking out the strongest pod members. Then they went for my siblings. I found as many people as I could, hid them beneath reefs and inside of caves. Then, just as I’m about to find shelter for myself, I see it. They have Tobias. My smallest brother. I swim to him as fast as I can and then it happens. They catch me in a Vibranium net. I still have scars from it,” you whisper, your fingers tracing over the faint lines where you know the scars are.

“I was helpless. Forced to watch as they tortured my brother. Ripped his scales off one by one. Then they did it to my other brothers. Killing them for no reason except the fact that they existed. Anyone who tried to save me or them was promptly killed and left to fall to the ocean floor. All my siblings died that day. My whole family. And I... I was left to the hands of Hydra.

“When they brought me back to the base they gave me very strict instructions. They told me that they knew where I hid the others and if I didn’t cooperate... my whole pod would be dead.”

Steve stays silent the entire time, guilt filling him. 

“You wondered why I didn’t compel them. Because I couldn't! I had tried and when I did... I still have those scars too. I did what I did to protect my family. What was left of it.” His hand gently rests on your scaly shoulder and you look up at him through tears. “Even in my years with Hydra, I’ve never harmed a human. They used my to compel the truth out of them and compel others to do their bidding. I always did so in a way that would ensure their safety, regardless of the pain I would receive after.” 

A door opens and you look over at it, wiping your eyes quickly then submerging yourself under the water. “What did she say?” Nat’s voice asks. You swim to the very bottom of the tank and watch the two of them. “She told me what I need to know.” Nat nods and looks into the water. 

“Tony developed this. Wants to give it to her to make sure she’s telling the truth.” She holds up a small bottle before flipping it over and dumping the contents into the water. You watch, terrified as the substance spreads throughout the water. Steve rolls his eyes as she says some snarky remark and watches the water closely, his eyes finding yours. The substance finally reaches you and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut. 

It starts off slow. So slow you’re sure you’re imagining it. But then it gets stronger, harder, until the pain all but consumes you. 

You find yourself at the surface, glaring at Natasha. “Get. Out.” Your voice is a snarl so terrifying that she backs up a few paces. “What’s happening? Nat what the Hell was in that?” Steve asks while coming to where you are. 

He crouches down and helps you up so that you’re sitting out of the water, your tail still in it. You cry out as a piercing pain fills your lower half. 

“She... they’re forcing the-” your own scream cuts off what you were going to say. “What’s happening?!” You recognize Peter’s frantic voice. Your vision blurs as the pain rips at every single cell in your body. 

“Peter! I said stay away from...” Tony trails off as your back arches and you claw at your arms. Water drips down your body, peeling your scales off with it “Tony what the Hell did you do to her?!” Steve shouts, watching in horror as your scales drop off at an alarmingly fast rate. “It... I...” 

The rest happens in a flash. 

You lose control of your tail, splashing water on yourself and Steve by accident, and then it’s over.

The pain is gone. 

And you’re sitting beside Steve. 

Butt naked.

Your tail and scales gone.

It’s quiet for a moment before Steve’s moving to shield your body from view. “Peter cover your eyes!” Tony yells, grabbing onto the teenager and pulling him out of the room. 

Steve takes his shirt off and looks into your eyes while carefully pulling it over your head. “Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking your scale-less hand in his. You look up into his eyes then over his shoulder to the redhead. 

“I refuse to speak another word in her presence.” Steve looks back at Nat and she sighs, raising her hands up in surrender, then walking out. 

“They forced the change,” you begin quietly. 

“Every few months, mermaids are fertile. They’re then capable of coming on land, exchanging their tail for legs, and procreating with their mate. Then, three days after, they return to the water for nine months and four days until it’s time to give birth. Then they return to land, give birth, and bring the baby back to the water.” Steve’s eyes widen. “Of course there are certain mermaids who are capable of exchanging their tail for legs as they please due to their strong powers. I am not one of them.” You stare down at your new legs, tears in your eyes. 

“And now they’ve... they’ve turned me against my will. Not even Hydra did that! Mermaids who’ve been turned against their will... they usually don’t survive long. Now because of the fear of you humans, my days are limited. You people... you’ve condemned me to a certain slow and painful death.”

Steve can’t help but feel one hundred percent responsible for what happened. “You’ll be okay. I’ll.... I’ll get Tony to fix it...” You shake your head and turn your gaze towards the water. “Mermaids have certain healing abilities. If the strongest of us couldn’t fix this with a dozen others... there’s no way your science can. We’re more advanced. Nothing you can do will stop this.” 

The door opens and Peter runs in. “(Y/n)! A-are you okay?” He slides to his knees beside you. You shake your head glumly. “Tony and Natasha have... they’ve...” He looks at your legs as you trail off. “But, you can walk, right? You’ll be okay.” You look up at him and sigh. 

“I’ve never had legs before. And now that they’ve forced me to have them... I’ll die within a few weeks. Maybe a month at most.” His eyes swim with tears. “What?! They-they’re killing you?!” You turn away from him and look up at Steve. “Steve... she can’t be serious! She saved my life and this is how Tony thanks her?!” You turn back to him with a sad smile. 

“Family is one of the most important things in the world, Peter. I want you to go.” He shakes his head. “You’re good, (Y/n). You’re not one of the bad guys.” You sniffle then look down at your hands. 

“They don’t believe that.” 

“Well I do.” You’re surprised at Steve’s suddenly fierce voice. 

“We’ll figure out how to help you. Until then though, we’ll need to get you settled somewhere.” You look up at him with suspicious eyes. 

“Why? Why should I trust that they won’t harm me? Am I not safer in here? Or on the streets even?” He stands up and pulls you with him, keeping an arm around your waist as your legs shake. 

“Peter, go tell Tony to start working to reverse whatever he did. Explain the situation to him and to the rest of the team. Tell them that they’re killing an innocent woman who has only saved lives. Not taken any.” Peter nods and runs out of the room. “Okay. We’re gonna walk. You ready?” You shrug and let him pull you a step. 

You’re shaky and slow, but slowly getting the hang of it. “You remind me of Bambi,” he muses as you approach the door. “Bambi? Who’s that?” He chuckles and helps you through the doorway and to the elevator. 

“A fictional character. We’ll need to watch Disney movies at some point before-” “I die.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I was going to say before you go back to what’s left of your pod.” The doors open and you stumble inside, feeling exhausted. “Hey, easy.” He catches you before you can fall to the floor. 

“Okay. I’m gonna bring you up to my room and you can sleep there ‘till we find a room for you. I’ll get Wanda to let you borrow some clothes, maybe make Bucky run out to the store and pick you up some clothes.” You can only manage a nod, your legs completely failing you.

Steve stoops down and catches you in his arms before you hit the ground, carrying you bridal style as the doors open. “I don’t like this,” you whisper, kicking your legs lightly to indicate what you’re talking about. 

He nods, opening a door then laying you on a bed gently. “Get some sleep. We’ll fix this soon. I promise. I’ll have Wanda grab some clothes for you so sit tight.” You’re asleep as soon as the door shuts behind him.

~

When you wake up you’re dressed in a pair of undergarments, sweatpants, and a tank top. Shivering slightly, you sit up and pull the blankets tighter around yourself. 

“You’re awake,” an accented female voice says. You look to the sound and smile lightly at the girl there. 

She looks only a few years older than Peter. 

“Steve is in the common room. The bathroom is right through there,” she points to a door in the room, “and once you’re finished I’ll take you to Cap.” You nod and carefully pull yourself out of the bed, taking a few shaky steps towards the bathroom then shutting the door behind you. 

On the counter lies a toothbrush with your name written in black marker on the handle.

You do your business quickly then open the door, feeling fresh. “C’mon. Tony and Nat want to formally apologize.” You walk slowly behind her but she doesn't seem to mind. “You trust me. Why?” You asks suddenly. She turns to you and offers you a small smile. 

“I can... see inside your head. I know you’re being truthful. And besides, I’ve been in a position similar to yours before.” She helps you into the elevator and presses a button. “The real question is, why do you trust us?” You sigh and look down at your bare feet. “Because. It’s not in my nature to distrust. It is exhausting to be wary of people so I will continue offering chances until it’s the death of me.” 

The doors open and she helps you out into a large open space. Couches sit by a huge tv and large windows, and on the other side of the room is a kitchen. 

“(Y/n)... you’re up,” Steve says while walking to you. He takes Wanda’s spot and helps you to the largest couch, sitting down with you and looking at Tony and Natasha. 

“(Y/n)... Peter and Steve told us about...” Tony motions to your legs. “I’m sorry. I never meant to...” You nod, avoiding his eyes. “I forgive you. Both of you. I understand that your fear compelled you. I harbour no negative emotions towards you two except skepticism. And perhaps a smidgen of distrust.” Nat avoids your eyes. 

“I... I’m sorry.” You reach out to her, smiling softly as she takes your hand. “I forgive you. I understand that you’re wary of people. But as you’ve come to realize, I’m not like regular people.” She nods once and you sigh, turning back to Steve. 

“What’s to happen to me while we wait for the results which will no doubt be inconclusive?” You ask glumly. He squeezes your shoulders comfortingly. “Well, I figure you probably haven’t experienced much, so Peter and I decided we’re gonna take you to central park for a little walk.” You smile lightly as the teenager walks to you and takes your hand. He helps you to your feet slowly, keeping one hand ready to catch you if you fall. 

“Here Peter, I’ll help her. You go get ready. It’s kinda chilly outside,” Steve says while taking Peter’s spot, wrapping his arm protectively around your waist and helping you into the elevator. 

You lean against him and close your eyes for a moment, your legs aching from the new use of them. “You’d think with how powerful your tail is, your legs would be stronger,” he murmurs as the doors open. You shrug, wobbling to your door with him supporting you the entire way. 

“I... Are you gonna need... help dressing?” He finally utters the words with a blush on his face while you open the door. 

You smile up at him and shake your head. “No, I don’t think so. If you could stay in here though just in case, that would be much appreciated.” He nods and lets you go while walking to the wall, suddenly intrigued by a painting. 

You pull off your shirt and exchange it for a sweatshirt with the Avengers Logo on it. You then kick your sweatpants off, squealing as you tumble to the floor. 

“Are you okay? Can I help or are you... indecent?” You push yourself up to a seated position and glare at your new appendages. “I’m fine. I hate these things though.” He chuckles quietly and taps his feet on the floor while humming lightly. 

You struggle to pull a pair of skinny jeans over your ankles. “Steve? I... I think I need some help.” You avoid his eyes as he turns and walks over to you. “Okay, you’re gonna stand up and hold onto me for support and I’m gonna pull your pants up.” You nod and look up at him as he helps you off of your seated position on the bed to your feet. Your legs wobble and you grab his shoulders, sighing at the relief. 

“Okay. I’m gonna pull your pants up now.” His fingers trail over your sides and down your legs, causing goosebumps to rise on your soft skin. He pulls your pants up, his cheeks flushing as his fingers brush against your derrière. “Sorry.” You look up into his eyes and offer him a small, timid smile. 

“You’re helping me. You don’t need to apologize for accidentally brushing against my body.” He only nods while buttoning up your jeans then sitting you on the bed and grabbing the shoes Wanda left. He puts the ankle socks on you then slips your new feet into the runners, tying them tightly. 

He sits back on his heels and looks up at you, waiting for you to stand up again. You do just that, taking a careful step and testing out the shoes. “They’re very constricting. Not ideal. But they’ll work. Are we leaving now?” You ask him. He nods and wraps his arm around your waist, helping you to walk out of your -his- room and into the elevator.

~

“Wow. It’s incredible,” you breathe, your eyes flitting around, trying to consume as much information as you can. Trying so hard to engrain the image of Central Park into your mind. 

“It is,” Steve agrees, his arm tight around your waist as he pulls you to a nice looking patch of grass. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited about visiting central park before,” Peter murmurs while watching Steve help you sit down on the grass. 

You smile and touch the green blades. “At my holding cell... it was fake. Plastic plants,” you explain softly. He nods and plops down beside you while Steve sits on your other side and smiles. 

“Must be really strange. After decades of being held captive... to just be out and free. In a practically different body too,” Steve says. You nod, tracing patterns on your legs. “They’re strong. That much I know for sure. Difficult to use and navigate though.” Peter looks at your legs and nods. “Easily conceivable. It’s so sad that this had to happen. I wish we could’ve met you under better circumstances.” You smile lightly and touch his hand, playing with his fingers.

“In my... culture, we see death as an opportunity to learn. I used the death of my family to learn about all the negative emotions that are usually kept hidden. I learned the extent of my abilities, how to suppress negative impulses. But I also learned how hard it is to trust again. Especially the species who slaughtered my brothers and sisters.” You take a breath in then look up at Peter. “However when I saw you... I knew I couldn’t leave you. There was something in you pulling me to you. And I think I now know what it is.” Peter’s eyebrows raise in silent question. 

“You remind me of my youngest brother. Probably the most humble, giving, and innocent being I have ever encountered. You have an innocence and an open-mindedness that I’ve only ever seen in my own people.” His cheeks redden and he looks down while mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’.

You look over at the other man with a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Your eyebrows raise. “What for?�� He looks down at your legs with a frown. 

“For not doing more to get them to trust you. You’re good. You don’t deserve this.” You shrug, “you people were scared. I understand.” He shakes his head and looks out across the park. 

“Hey! How about we go to the bakery across the street from the tower? I could use some macaroons right about now!” Peter’s excited voice breaks the tension with ease. “That’s a great idea Peter! We can get some snacks and stuff to munch on. I’m sure you’ll enjoy french pastries. They’re amazing.” 

You grin and nod at Steve, enjoying how lighthearted everything is between the three of you now. “You’re in for a real treat today!” Steve and Peter both rise to their feet, the former taking your hands and helping you to stand up. You wobble for a moment until his arm goes around your waist, supporting a fair amount of your weight and helping keep you steady and stable. 

“So Peter,” Steve begins after a few moments of quiet, slow walking, “How’s school going?” Peter immediately launches into a detailed story of his school life, his homework, his teachers, and his classmates. You laugh along as he tells you about him embarrassing himself in front of his crush. 

“Hey is there school... where you come from?” Steve shoots the boy a look, knowing that this is a sensitive topic for you. You lightly place your hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s alright. And yes, we had school. Although it was very different than what you do, we learned some of the same things. I know everything in the human school curriculum and then some.” Peter’s jaw drops and you smile.

“Well, here we are. Let’s go pick out some snacks and then we’ll eat them on the rooftop patio,” Steve says while pulling you into a quaint little bakery. 

An amazing smell fills your nostrils and you groan, looking around at all the food in the displays. “It smells so incredible in here,” you whisper. Steve chuckles and pulls you to a glass case filled with different types of tarts, mini pies, and pastries. 

“Captain Rogers! What can I help you with today?” An older, rotund woman with a french accent asks while hurrying out of the kitchen. 

Steve smiles, “Good morning Colette. I’ve brought my friend today. She’s not from around here and she has never tried any kind of french pastries. I want to have her try nearly everything you have before she leaves.” You smile at the woman and her eyes widen. 

“Mon Dieu elle best trés belle!” Steve smiles and looks at you. “Oui, elle est.” You hardly hear the two of them as your eyes focus on something coming out of the kitchen. “My goodness what is that? It smells and looks incredible!” You exclaim. 

Colette smiles, “and she has good taste too! These are our fresh crêpes. Filled with our own whipped cream, fresh fruit, and a pinch of confectionary sugar. Would you like one?” You look up at Steve and smile as he nods. 

“Three of those please, two of every flavour of macaron, two chocolate-hazelnut filled croissants, and.... two lemon-strawberry tarts please.” Colette nods and you watch as she scurries around, grabbing different treats and snacks from the display cases. “That’ll be thirty-four dollars,” she says after handing Peter the boxes of treats. Steve hands her a one hundred dollar bill then shakes his head as he goes to give her change. 

“Keep the change. Buy your daughter that necklace she’s been wanting.” You watch in awe as Colette’s eyes fill with tears. “Bless you Captain Rogers. Bless you.” Steve winks at her then ushers you out of the bakery only to guide you to a flight of stairs on the side of the building. 

“That was very sweet of you,” you whisper while slowly trudging up the flight of stairs. Steve shrugs, a faint blush painting his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. 

“Colette’s so nice,” Peter muses from behind the two of you. Steve nods, pushing the gate to the rooftop patio open and helping you onto the gravel, the rocks throwing you off guard for a moment and you slow down a tad. The sun peeks out and shines onto your skin, warming you further as you sit down at a table with Steve and Peter. 

“So (Y/n)... I have no idea how your culture works so please just bear with me, but I have more questions for you.” You smile at the teenager and nod, looking over at Steve as he sets a small plate on the table in front of you. “Here. Try some of this,” he whispers while setting a crêpe onto the plate. 

You pick it up carefully and lick your lips, getting nervous as you feel both Steve and Peter staring at you, waiting for you to try the pastry. You take a medium sized bite and close your eyes, moaning softly and savouring the flavour. 

“You like it?” Steve asks with a chuckle, subconsciously leaning towards you as you nod. You take another bite, nibbling on it and opening your eyes to look at Steve and Peter respectively. Steve leans his cheek in his hand and watches as you finish your crêpe. “That was absolutely delicious!” You turn back to look at Steve with an excited smile on your face. 

“Wait ‘till you try the macaroons.” He pulls said items out of the little decorative box and carefully breaks one in half, setting half on your plate and the other half on his. He gives the full macaroons in each flavour to Peter, along with his crêpe, croissant, and tart. Peter digs in while Steve continues halving the rest of the desserts for the two of you to share. 

“Oh my! These are so frickin’ good!” You giggle and look over at Peter as his eyes roll back into his head while he eats his croissant. “Here, try a macaroon,” Steve says gently. You pick up a light pink half and pop it into your mouth, letting the flavour burst before you start chewing. Your eyelids close for a moment and you nod, opening your eyes again and looking up at Steve. 

“Do you have any water? I don’t think I’ve had so many sweets in such a short period of time.” He chuckles and looks over your shoulder. “Hey Peter you wanna go down and buy two large water bottles and whatever drink you want for yourself?” The teenager jumps at the mention of him getting whatever drink he wants and runs down the stairs. 

“That one was really good. I really like these pastries. They’re very good.” Steve nods and pushes half of the croissant towards you. “You, Steve, are going to give me diabetes. And I cannot thank you enough for it!” Steve laughs from deep in his belly as you scarf down the rest of the treats on your plate before Peter even comes back. 

Once all of you are finished, Steve helps you stand then starts walking with you towards the tower to get you officially settled for your stay.

NEXT PART

[mxltifaves]

How was this possible

Chapter 1

This wasn’t possible. They’re both technically dead they aren’t supposed to be able to procreate. There must be an explanation. Stefan and Caroline have been together for 8 months. They have only had sex a couple times, but it shouldn’t be possible.

Caroline sat in her dorm holding a pregnancy test in her hand. She was so confused, she was lost in her own world that she didn’t notice Bonnie coming in into the dorm.

“Hey Caroline, what are you doing?” Bonnie asked as she entered the room but received not answer from her best friend. Bonnie walked toward Caroline’s bed and saw what she had in her hand.

“Omg, have you told Stefan yet?” She asked as she sat down next to Caroline completely shocked.

“No, I just found out this morning.” Caroline responded in a scared tone.

“I’m not even sure how this happened. I mean vampires can’t have children.” Caroline said as she started to freak out. Bonnie didn’t respond because she knew how this could’ve happened. But how was she supposed to tell her best friend that it was the fault of a stupid spell she performed.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

3 weeks earlier

Bonnie was at home trying to learn some new spells. She came across a fertility spell, it was basically to make someone fertile. She decided it was a good one to learn. She just had to chant a couple of words and say the name of the person she wanted to make fertile. She started chanting the spell when Caroline came through the door.

“Caroline” Bonnie said realizing she said her name when doing the spell. She thought that maybe it wouldn’t have worked because she wasn’t done with the spell. She decided not to tell Caroline anything.

“Hey Bonnie, what are you doing?” Caroline asked as she walked through the door.

“Oh nothing just trying out some spells” Bonnie said quickly closing her grimoire. “So how was your date with Stefan?” Bonnie asked trying to change the subject.

“It was amazing. The restaurant we went to was amazing where going on another date today. He is picking me up at the dorm at 7” Caroline said with a smile on her face.

“So, if you could please not come by the dorm around 9:30 because where going to be there” Caroline said with a smirk on her face.

“Got it. I will not be at the dorm I certainly do not want to see anything.” Bonnie said as she understood what Caroline was trying to say.

Hours later

Stefan and Caroline had just gotten back from their date. Everything was great, now they where headed to her dorm since Bonnie wasn’t going to be there. They entered the dorm lips together. Stefan ran his hands down her waist to her thighs to lift her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He sucked in a breath when he felt her pressed against him.

Caroline trailed kisses along his neck, breathing in the strong masculine scent that was all Stefan. She gasped as she felt his hands slide under the hem of her dress to grab her ass. As a response she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding the material across his chest. Her fingers trailing across his pectoral muscles.

Stefan kissed his way down her throat as he pushed her against the wall, moving his mouth back to her lips. His hands stroked along her thighs, his crotch grinding against her, moaning at the feel of her heat. She let her legs and stepped back from Stefan. Lust darkening his gaze which made Caroline swallow. Keeping her eyes on him she held the bottom of her dress, pulled it over her head and threw it across the room. She stood in front of him black lace bra and panties.

Stefan was in awe, Caroline looked gorgeous completely exposed to him. He ripped his shirt off throwing it to the side and was throwing her onto the bed in a second. He dragged his lips from her collarbone to the top of her breast, his hands reached behind to undo the clasp of her bra, moving his fingers to her shoulder where he slid the material down her arms and discarded it. Her breasts were free, and they were perfect. Full and soft, her perky nipples begged for his mouth. He didn’t want to deny what her body wanted.

Caroline moaned as Stefan’s mouth closed in around a nipple, his other had massaging the neglected one, rolling her bud with his fingers. She sunk her hand in his hair, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of him worshiping her. Not wanting to be selfish she pushed Stefan off and turned them around, so she was on top. She ran her nose against the skin of his chest as her hands reached the zipper of his jeans. She pushed the material over his hips as she left bites over his stomach, smirking at the groan he let out.

Stefan leant back on his hands to watch her. The feel of her hands and lips so close to where he wanted her drove him wild. He blonde hair tickling his skin had his hips bucking before he could even think. His eyes rolled back as she pulled down his boxers and his big cock spring free. She licked her lips, and his member twitched, anticipation setting a fire in his veins. He wanted her so bad.

Caroline continued to nip up his thighs, her hand curling around his solid length, moaning at how soft and smooth he was while being rock hard. Her mouth watered, she wanted to feel him in her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and licked a line from his base to his tip, swirling her tongue around his head. The groan he let out had her smirking. She wrapped her lips around him, slowly descending until he was touching the back of her throat, she swallowed.

Stefan pulled her up and hungrily kissed her, groaning at the taste of her. As he plunged the depths of her mouth with his tongue, his fingers trailed down her sides to hook into her panties, which he pulled down her legs, his hand coming to slide a finger into her folds, and he groaned at finding her soaked.

Stefan didn’t hesitate. He kissed her mound sweetly, moving down until he was at her entrance, breathing in her scent before kissing her more intimately, his tongue stroking along her folds. He ran his hands up to the back of her thighs, then without warning he held her up and places her legs over his shoulders so he had full access to her.

Caroline rocked her hips against his lips, moans falling from her lips steadily, her fingers switching between running through his hair to holding him against her. His mouth was heaven against her, his lips and tongue bringing her to such heights that she threatened to fall over the top with every swipe of his tongue. She placed her feet flat against his back, and leant back on her hands, thrusting her hips against him as she cried out in bliss. Her stomach tightening with her impending release.

Stefan groaned in delight as he ate her out, his fingers curling into her hips as she trembled against him. He worked his mouth and tongue furiously against her until she was a spasming mess against him. She screamed out his name as she flooded with wetness, her walls tightening around his tongue as he stroked along her walls, tasting all she had to give him, not stopping until all she was capable of was cries and whimpers, and his cock was fully hard again.

Caroline panted, his chest heaving up and down as her body still twitched in orgasm. Stefan's body covered hers and his mouth latched on to the racing pulse in her neck, she could feel his hardness sliding along the wet lips of her pussy. Her core ached with the need to have him inside of her. She curled her legs around his waist, and wrapped her arms around his neck, and moaned against his ear, "Stefan..."

Stefan knew what she wanted, because it was what he wanted. He slid his arm under her back, lifting her up slightly so that her back was arched. He covered her mouth with his, passionately kissing her, and then he slid his cock inside of her. He moaned at how perfect she felt, at how her walls clenched around his dick so gloriously, and when he pulled back to slide back in he couldn't help but moan again. She was so perfect under him. He pulled away from her lips, his free hand pushing a lock of hair away from her face to tuck behind her ear, his thumb stroking along her cheeks as he moaned, "You are so beautiful, Caroline."

Caroline didn't have time to blush because Stefan began to move and any thought but him flew her mind. She pulled his lips back down to hers, growing increasingly addicted to the feel of his mouth against hers, his kisses deep and searching, as if he was looking for the answers of the universe in her mouth. Her hips moved against his, meeting him thrust for thrust, her pussy clenching around him as his length brought her to complete ecstasy. As he hit the sensitive spot inside her, she gasped against his mouth, her fingernails digging into his shoulders and running down his back-drawing blood.

Stefan groaned and instinctively rolled his hips hard against her, the cry she let out had him do it again, and again, just to hear the undeniably sexy sounds of her pleasure. He rolled on his back so that she was on top, his hands gliding to her waist to bounce her against him. He surged forward to take a nipple in his mouth, grunting as she began to twist her hips around him, impaling herself on his dick.

Caroline released a litany of loud cries, his hips moving frantically against him, her channel slickening as she felt her impending orgasm. She stared into his desire filled eyes, her mouth hung open as she moaned, her hips jerking sporadically, her fingers curling in his chest as she screamed in pure bliss, "Stefan!"

Stefan clutched her waist tight, pumping his cock into her a few more times before he growled, "Caroline!" And he bit her shoulder as his cock pulsed inside her clenching walls, releasing his come into her welcoming channel. She was too perfect around him, he felt his vision almost blacken as she milked him, her spasms feeling so good around him. He felt like he would never stop coming, load upon load releasing from his member before he collapsed boneless against his bed, Caroline falling spent against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as he tried to regain his breath, little bursts of electricity bursting through his veins.

Caroline was completely satiated, this had been her best night ever. Her and Stefan were made for each other. They were perfect, and they couldn’t be anymore in love with each other. Stefan smiled in wonder at Caroline, her peaceful face making his chest feel tight with affection for this beautiful woman who without even trying made him happy. He reached over for his quilt and covered them both as he joined her in blissful slumber.

What they didn’t know was that, that night something happened, something neither were ready for. How would they react to the impossible?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12963149/1/How-was-this-possible

[dancingalone21]

Broken - Part 1

Summary: Jensen and the reader had an amazing night...until the condom broke. 

Prompt: “What do you mean it broke?”

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

~

If you literally died right in this glorious moment, you’d be totally and completely at peace with that. Still barely able to form a sentence, you’re coming down from the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

But as your past wonderfully dictates, you should know by now that a good thing never ever fucking lasts.

“No no no.” The alarmed tone of Jensen’s voice immediately yanks you out of the blissful daze you’re lost in.

“What?”

“The condom broke.” The dread filled expression that’s usually reserved for Dean Winchester is now staring at you live and in person. Son of a bitch.

“What do you mean it broke? How the fuck did that happen?!” You shoot straight up on the bed, feeling a sudden clench in your stomach that makes you double over.

“I don’t know! Maybe it ripped when I opened the package. Or I didn’t leave enough room at the tip.” Jensen grumbles taking in your distressed reaction. He starts to rub your back, attempting to calm you but it seems to have the opposite effect.

“Omg. This can’t be happening.” You whisper to yourself, throwing off the covers and bolting out of his California king sized bed.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill…”

“Do you think I’d be having a freaking heart attack right now if I was on the pill, Jensen?”

“It’s not like I’m thinking clearly right now, Y/N. I’ve never had a condom break before ya know!” He retorts back, jumping out of bed himself to throw on a pair of sweatpants.

“Lucky me. Glad I’m your first.” You huff sarcastically, frantically searching around the bedroom floor for your clothes.

This is so friggin typical of your life. This is what you get for branching out and making new friends. You recently met Gen Padalecki at a local yoga class and you two became fast friends.

Having only seen three seasons of Supernatural, you didn’t realize who she was until you showed up at her BBQ today. You figured it out quick when you saw Sam and Dean Winchester in swim trunks grilling burgers.

“Jesus Christ. I’m not ready for a baby, dude. I wanna run the fuck away when I encounter one at a restaurant or at a store. This is…this is just…bad!” You exclaim searching and failing to find your expensive bra.

“And you’re a god damn celebrity too.”

“What’s that matter?”

“I can’t have a famous guy’s kid. I hate getting my picture taken!” You’re too preoccupied with being dramatic so you don’t notice that the look of confusion on Jensen’s face turns to amusement.

“Oh and don’t get me started with names. I refuse to name my kid Apple or some shit.” You add sternly, causing the unhelpful man in front of you to burst out laughing.

“You think I want to name my kid after a fruit?”

“I’m glad you’re entertained, Ackles.”

“For the record it’s not exactly my dream to procreate with a girl I’ve known for like eight hours. But let’s try and calm down, ok?” Jensen quickly slips a t-shirt on, covering his sexy as fuck shoulders and you do your best to hide your disappoint.

“You don’t understand…I can barely handle taking care of myself. I’ve had chocolate ice cream for breakfast the last four mornings!”

“Y/N…”

“And I let my dirty clothes pile up to the point where it gets ridiculous, because I fucking hate doing laundry. So instead of cleaning them all, I just start throwing shit away!”

“I think maybe you should…” Jensen starts but you’re only half listening as you speed walk out of his bedroom.

“Where the hell is my bra?” You shout as you book it down the hallway, he quickly catches up and follows you down the flight of stairs.

“Um…I think we were in the kitchen when it came off.”

“I can’t find it.” You defeatedly admit finally standing still for more than two seconds.

“Screw it. I’m gonna go buy the Plan B pill then I’m going home.”

“Right. That’s a good idea. It’s almost midnight though, why don’t you crash here and then we can buy it in the morning.”

“No it’s fine. There’s a 24 hour pharmacy right near my apartment.”

“Oh ok. At least let me pay for it. Any idea how much it is?”

“I think it’s like 40 or 50 bucks which is no biggie. I have money. Thanks though.” You mutter with a small smile before rushing out the front door and into your car.

“Y/N come on…let me do something.” Jensen pleads high tailing it behind you.

“You’ve done enough, Ackles.”

Part 2

~

[cutemonstercare]

5 Reasons Why Your Tarantula Is So Active

Tarantulas are usually described as pet ‘rocks’, and for good reason – they don’t move a lot! Being nocturnal in nature, Ts will be more active at night time but within limits.

That is why some tarantula owners get a little worried when their Ts start scaling the walls all hours of the night and day.

So what might be the reason for this activity?

It’s mating season, and your male T is looking for a mate.

You moved it to a new enclosure, and it is exploring its new home.

Your T is hungry.

Something is wrong in its environment; it’s too hot, too dry, too humid or dehydrated

Parasites

So, basically, an overly active tarantula is usually not a good thing and figuring out why exactly your T is uncharacteristically energetic is easier said than done. Luckily, through a process of elimination, you can quickly figure out what is wrong and fix it.

After all, no one wants an unhappy pet tarantula!

Tarantula Goes From Pet Rock To Spider Monkey

Okay, in the beginning, this new-found activity may be welcomed by tarantula hobbyists, especially newbies. Yes, watching a tarantula may at times be compared to watching paint dry.

They really aren’t very lively creatures. So, when all of a sudden they start walking all over, it is exciting! Until reality sinks in and you realize something must be wrong.

Now comes the hard task of figuring out what exactly is causing this excessive movement.

1. It’s a male tarantula

Most animals have a mating season. For tarantulas, this will be in the fall during the months of September and October. During this time, male Ts in the wild will go out in search of females to mate with. They do this by zoning in on the pheromones that receptive females release.

Just because your male tarantula is living in captivity, it doesn’t mean that their urge to mate disappears. These creatures run on instinct and nothing is stronger than the drive to reproduce.

The only problem is it may drive a pet tarantula a little crazy. Think about it, your whole being has one singular goal – procreation – but that can’t come to fruition because, uh, you’re in a glass enclosure.

Of course, your T doesn’t know this, and as soon as its instinct to mate takes over, round and round and up and down, it will go in search of a female it will never find.

2. You moved it to a new enclosure

If you’ve ever brought a T back home from the pet shop in a tiny plastic container and placed it in a nice new enclosure, you know that they usually immediately start exploring. Who wouldn’t? It’s like going from living in a small bedroom to living in a penthouse.

Tarantulas will travel around the enclosure to get to know their new environment not just because of all the interesting new smells and textures, but for survival. They want to figure out where the water source is and where they can hide should a big predator approach.

That being said, there is some stress involved with rehoming your tarantula and that in itself can also cause extreme activity.

But, if you’ve just put your T into a new enclosure, you can be close to 100% sure that is why there is so much movement, eliminating all the other possible reasons. Just give it a few hours or days, and your tarantula will reclaim its pet rock status. If it doesn’t, maybe it’s time to feed it.

3. It’s hungry

Tarantulas are hunters. They’re not like other spiders that use webbing to catch their prey; they actively look for food.

This is why it may be a good idea for you to keep a tarantula food journal so you can see exactly how long ago you fed your T and if this disproportionate hustle and bustle is due to hunger pangs or something else.

4. Something is wrong in the tarantula’s environment

And with something, I mean anything from the temperature to the wetness of the substrate to niggly mites gnawing away at your T’s mouth.

So, after figuring out that your tarantula is now extra active due to points 1 to 3, it’s now time to look at its enclosure and the tarantula itself – with a magnifying glass.

Humidity

Let’s start with the humidity of your T’s enclosure. This is important; too dry and your tarantula will shrivel up and die, too wet and your T is basically drowning with every breath it takes.

You can see why that may lead to a stressed tarantula that is frantically looking for a way out of its enclosure.

The ideal humidity for most species of tarantulas are between 50% and 70%, but it is important that you do your research and set up your T’s environment as close to the one it hails from.

Heat

This is a contentious issue. Most seasoned hobbyists will quickly tell you to ditch the heating mat you were told to get when you got your first T.

Unfortunately, uneducated pet shop owners still believe that it’s necessary to place part of your tarantula’s enclosure on a heating mat to simulate the temperature of the regions most Ts come from.

You don’t need a heating mat. In fact, you will most probably fry your tarantula from the inside out if you use one when you don’t live in Antarctica. Tarantulas can more than survive in temperatures we humans maintain indoors.

The ideal rage is between 21-24°C – not as warm as you expected, right?

Dehydration

The number one killer of tarantulas is dehydration. Tarantulas need water to survive, and although most of their water needs are met through food, there are times when that is not enough.

For example, when there is not a burrow for your tarantula to take refuge in. You might be wondering what a burrow has to do with dehydration, well, Ts that stay out in the open 24/7, lose moisture easily, especially if the enclosure is already dry to begin with.

Luckily, this is easy to fix. A water dish, some misting of the substrate, and Bob is your tarantula’s uncle!

5. Worms and Mites

Time to get your magnifying glass. You’re looking for a white (sometimes squirmy) substance in your tarantula’s mouth region. If you spot it, your T has nematode worms, and it’s no wonder that it has been restless.

These worms penetrate through a small opening, usually the T’s book lungs or anus, and spread throughout the entire tarantula. They finally emerge through the mouth. Unfortunately, once the symptoms are noticed, it is usually too late.

One good thing, however, is that nematode worms are fairly rare.

When it comes to mites, the environment that tarantulas thrive in is regrettably also the perfect environment for mites to multiply and live happily ever after.

Usually, mites can be seen in the substrate, but in some cases, they do attach themselves to the tarantula. Now, it doesn’t matter if the mites are crawling around in the substrate or on the spider, they are hella annoying to tarantulas.

It makes sense why the tarantula is walking up and down 7 million times – imagine you were surrounded by millions of tiny ants. I would run, nevermind walk!

Naturally, this wouldn’t be an article about tarantulas without mentioning that these creatures are at times finicky and may just not like the brand of substrate you bought for their enclosure, or, maybe they don’t like your decorating skills.

So, I suggest you eliminate all the possibilities we covered and if your T continues to walk a solo 5km park run daily, just make peace with it.

At least now when your friends come over, they won’t mistake the decorative rock in the corner of the enclosure for your tarantula, they’ll actually be able to see it move!