#what mattered to them most was that they had reaffirmed their love for each other

[grimm-haven]

And they're engaged!

Beginning of Lemon Gen // Previous // Next

[cannellee]

NARUTO OMEGAVERSE ☆

alpha!sasuke x alpha!naruto x omega!reader (f)

— what is it like being team 7's omega ?

my masterlist : ☆

ALPHA!NARUTO X ALPHA!SASUKE

the moment it was announced that you were going to be a part of naruto and sasuke's team, you knew it would be difficult.

being both alphas, they're naturally in competition most of the time, but adding an omega to their quarrel made things even worse.

it's in their nature to seek their close omega friends' attention. you didn't particularly favour any of them, but naruto was ready to prove anyone else he could be a better partner to you than sasuke.

from this day on, the two of them started to fight even more than usual.

THEIR DYNAMICS

sasuke is a silent type of alpha, but you noticed he didn't particularly try to drive you away. he didn't seem to get annoyed either when you talked to him, you figured it was a privilege reserved to naruto alone.

actually, it's safe to say that sasuke always made sure you were out of danger while out on missions.

he wasn't exactly doubting your level, but he didn't trust you and your abilities fully. his nature made it hard for him to just ignore an omega in possible danger.

it was kind but subtle gestures, noticable to those who paid attention.

whereas for naruto, he was eager to replace you, to tell you to stay away and let him do the work. he didn't mean to come off as condescending nor disrespectful, he was just extremely preoccupied by your safety and wanted to show you he could take care of you.

it didn't take much time for you guys to become a real little pack. both had their antics and grudges, but deep down you knew they both liked each other in their own way.

you played a big part on how they interacted with each other, without you realising. your calming presence and gentle scent helped the two alphas chill down a bit.

your nurturing instincts also contribute to the cohesion of your team. you sometimes act like a mediator, having little to no trouble to resolve conflicts. kakashi has even given up trying to appease those two when they start arguing and directly lets you do your thing. you always succeed in maintaining a good harmony between the three of you, he's really thankful!

your secret trick is letting naruto scent you as long as he wants, he loves to be able to claim you like this, it appeases him so much! it does get on the nerves of sasuke who curses at him to let you go though.

moreover, they may fight once in a will and throw snarky remarks to the other, but if it comes to you, your safety or your mood, they immediately work hand in hand to reassure you.

it would be one of the rare time you'll hear sasuke be so openly mean at someone. he doesn't even foster the idea of an enemy targeting you.

come back injured and you'll be heavily questioned so he can track the one responsible.

both care so much about you, it's safe to say you bring a sense of unity that wouldn't be present if it wasn't for you.

if the three of you were out at a restaurant for example, it was a tacit rule for you to sit between naruto and sasuke.

they pay extra attention to you, naruto in a more exaggerated manner than sasuke, but you noticed sasuke warmed up to you really quickly after you guys first met.

none of them will ever let anybody disrespect their partner, and they trust each other completely to look after you.

sasuke might let his scent spread widely around you, to hold off other people. whether you notice it or not doesn't matter, he will do it regardless.

don't be fooled, they both are very jealous alphas!

naruto expresses his openly, whether it's a friendly interaction that seemed too close for comfort or a compliment directed at you, he'll playfully pout or at least put his claim on you to reaffirm his position as your alpha.

sasuke's is a bit harder to perceive but present nonetheless. you're able to notice it in the way his jaw tightens, the look of his narrow eyes and protective stance.

they both consider you theirs, it's only natural they drive away other alphas. now that they grew much closer, they only accept gestures of affection directed to you, if it comes from one of them.

they also understand you're an omega and your needs manifest differently than theirs. if you need alone time, guidance or to get away from any situation... they got your back! they'll go even as far as giving you their strongly scented clothes and note down every food you like and dislike to make sure you get your favourite next time.

sasuke is at peace with how he feels about you : he likes you a lot and wants to keep you safe. the long days and hours you spent together as teammates forced the three of you to build an unbreakable bond.

their initial alpha rivalry transformed into a playful banter now. they tease each other and use their omega's laughter to measure their victory against each other.

sasuke still likes to mock naruto in front of you, because he knows it makes him embarrassed and it makes you laugh. they love the sound you make, and your lighthearted scent is like a reward.

you might not notice it, but sasuke pays close attention to you and you can expect sweet gifts from him, like pretty flowers which caught his eyes while on mission and reminded him of you.

during training, both of them become very reliable teachers. they want to demonstrate, help you with certain moves... but always having in mind to keep you away from harm.

the same goes for missions, they'll always step in if they assume you're in danger. and they'll do it over and over again, they don't even consider that as annoying or a burden to their mission.

if you think they're doing too much and you want them to calm down with all their protection, they'll understand and let you manage your thing alone. just know that they'll still have an eye on you.

naruto is very passionate and yes, he'll jump in front of you to shield you from anything. he's like a steadfast guardian you know you can count on, no matter how much he likes joking around.

however, sasuke is protective by placing a vigilant eye over you. he assesses potential threats and his actions are calculated. his protective nature is rooted in a silent commitment to keep safe what he holds dear, in this case, you.

during missions, both will offer their hand or arm to cross a particularly tricky path, they'll regularly ask you how you're feeling and if you need a break. if you do, they'll let you rest and go search for some food while the other is inspecting the surroundings.

overall, they are very careful and attentive.

and it really does make you feel protected and safe. you wouldn't trade you team for nothing in the world!

[spaceorphan18]

Bridgerton Season 3 Favorite Quotes : For God's sake, Penelope Featherington. Are you going to marry me or not?

This season has some incredible dialogue - some amazingly beautiful speeches (not just Colin, Pen, too!) to some of the most hilarious zingers (insert? insert where?) and I keep coming back around this. This ridiculous and amazing proposal.

Obviously the carriage scene is brilliant. And I will not downplay the first 90% of it. But these last few minutes are probably my favorite part of the season.

The thing is that it kind of all starts with this moment here. The thing about Colin in this season is that once he realizes he has feelings for Penelope, and once he kind of works through them, and then - here after the carriage ride and the fact getting to the point that he understands she has feelings back, he's done. That's it 100% I'm here for this woman and this woman only and the. end.

And yeah, he was pretty gone before all of this, but him understanding her feelings are the same -- just solidifies it. And I love that after they stop, after they reaffirm they weren't just horny at each other (and don't get me wrong, they were). You can see him think through - yeah, I'm marrying this one. She's my person.

And it just speaks to the both of them. I find it so refreshing that Colin is not beating around the bush with his feelings. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He'd scream it from the mountain tops if he could that he was in love with her. So, of course he isn't going to wait.

And it plays into their dynamic, and the story being told so well. They've been best friends for so long. There's no need to repress how they feel about each other. The assurance of love is never in doubt, no matter how messy it's going to get in part two (or whatever in the future).

And, also interestingly, it's one of the few times in the season that Colin is carrying the dynamic. Most of the time this season, Pen is carrying the power in the relationship (which is totally fine -- especially since we spent two seasons of watching her just devastatingly pine for him).

But the beauty of the proposal is that she does not know what's about to happen. She's still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. She's overwhelmed and still processing. She thinks, when he asks her to follow him, they're going to get busy up in Bridgerton house, and god, she'll do it, too. What she doesn't expect is that HE'S FUCKING GOING TO ASK HER TO MARRY HIM. And as an audience, we've waited with her for so long that it's just, so goddamn magical that it takes my breath away.

Meanwhile, they are the romantic ones, and yet they almost subvert their own trope. You'd think Colin would be over the top planning something, and maybe under certain circumstances he would be. But he's just so damn smug and cheeky about it. It's playful, it's warm, it's plays into the fact that they've probably had similar exchanges before. And I love that. I love that in a season of some of the most romantic speeches (including all the pontificating he did earlier in the same damn scene) he just gets to the heart of it.

Because that's where his heart is. And he's so fucking sure that's where her heart is, too. He is one step ahead of her, and wants to play that up, and gets a little joy out of seeing her light up with surprise and shock and wonder and love.

It's so brilliant. It's so amazingly done, I could probably talk about this line for ages. My god, I love it.

[reverieblondie]

The Dark Prince: Chapter 1, The Union

Paring- Dark Prince Rolan x Blessed Princess F!Tav

Warnings- 18+ MDNI, will include violence and smut, and two pinning idiots.

Summary- A union bathed in the silver light of a full moon, the eyes of a the fiendish usurper and the moon-blessed princess meet for the first time...

A/N: Chapter one is finally here!! We and sweet anon have been chipping away at this for what seems like forever! (Again huge thank you to them and their brilliant mind! Full credit to them writing and including the vampire spawn parts, if your curious you will just have to read it) This chapter was meant to be longer, but we are saving some fun stuff for you with chapter two

(ゝω・´★) Side note! if anyone knows how I can get some good dark Rolan screenshots to use for aesthetics please let me know! all the ones I find tumbr makes all blurry! Anyway, ENJOY!

<- Prologue

Chapter 2 -> First Night in Waldemar

Lia’s footsteps echo off the dark stone walls, each step a testament to her determination. Her pace is quick, and her anger slowly builds more and more as she draws closer to his office, still debating if she wants to scream at him or punch him. The more the thought swirls in her mind, the further she crushes the parchment. She barely hears as Cal calls her name, desperately trailing after her, begging his sister to calm down and tell him what’s wrong, but it’s too late.

Lia all but rips the dark wood door open before slamming it behind her in one fluid motion, effectively earning Rolan’s attention as his golden eyes leave his papers to meet his sister’s burning gaze. Rolan’s instinct is to ask what’s wrong, but from the look on her face, he suspects he already knows. He doesn’t even flinch when Lia slams the wrinkled parchment onto his desk, her eyes still stern on his face.

Rolan looks down at his sister’s splayed hand as it crushes the paper. His gaze lingers for too long as he sees where her middle digit is missing. Cal finally opens the door with wide, alert eyes as he watches his two siblings. Rolan quickly moves his eyes from her hand as she quickly removes it, the echoes of her scolding him not to stare reverberating in his mind. The silence in the room is defining as Cal shuts the door, and Rolan grabs the note, unfolding it, already knowing what it could be. 

Prince Rolan, 

Our kingdom praises your diligence towards leading your people and kingdom to a glorious future under your powerful rule. Our court has been vastly impressed by all you have accomplished in the few years since your rise to rulership. However, this should be no surprise when a man has such power like the bards sing that you do.

Our kingdom of Sivailon is grateful that you have seen fit to continue the friendship and alliance between our great nations without letting that peace be tainted by the actions of your predecessor. We hope your graciousness will extend towards other matters, perhaps most importantly, opening discussions regarding fostering the trade that had always flourished between our great kingdoms.”

In the spirit of this hope, Sivailon has chosen to humbly accept your proposal that we reinforce this newly reaffirmed alliance by granting you Princess Tav’s hand in marriage, and his Majesty is honored by your declarations that his dearest daughter shall stand beside you, not only as your Queen but as co-ruler of Waldemar. The people and court will miss our radiant princess, but we pray that the light of Selûne, which lives within her very being, will continue to shine and that it might help guide you toward a just and noble rule.

If our couriers serve us well, you can anticipate our princess’ arrival to your kingdom of Waldemar within three days of receiving this message, alongside three others sworn to her service. May happiness and love bloom in your union.

Rolan lets out a long sigh as he tosses the paper down and begins to stand. Lia pounds her angry fist against the large desk, making Cal jump and forcing Rolan’s attention. She jabs her finger to the note, her eyes never leaving Rolan’s, “What is this?”

For a moment, he holds the gaze of his seething sister as Cal tries in vain to console her before Rolan decides it is best to be honest, “It is a bunch of noble-born cowards tripping over themselves to keep me placated with flattery and performative elation that the vile hellspawn usurper has chosen to marry their divinely blessed princess. Perhaps the latter is more genuine, seeing as they have so readily pawned her off.”

Lia glared at him as Rolan maintained his cool demeanor while anger continued to threaten to claw its way out of her, “I thought we talked about this! An arranged marriage?! What are you thinking?!”

Rolan furrows his brows at her, his own irritation building to a boiling point. Cal is quick to try to ease him as well. Still, it’s already too late by the time Rolan responds, “I am thinking how it has been three years of us struggling to establish our rule, of us fighting against those who would sooner conspire to be ruled over by a mindless ooze rather than some bastard hellspawn! I think I have finally found a way to placate the malcontents by giving them their more palatable figurehead for them to fawn over!

“There are other ways, Rolan!”

“What ways, Lia?!”

“Ways that don’t involve forcing someone into a marriage out of fear for their homeland!” Lia yelled, her voice breaking as tears of frustration began to blur the edges of her sight.

Cal delicately reached a hand out again, silently resting it on her shoulder to console his sister. Rolan stepped around his desk, intending to do the same, but he halted his approach when Lia harshly swatted his hand away and retreated a few paces from her brothers. Her head held high, as it always was. Rolan stood there and waited while Lia scrutinized his expression, searching for any sign that his mind could be swayed from this course. He watched her piercing gaze turn solemn when she found none.

Rolan turns away to slowly move back behind the desk, distancing himself from the bitter disappointment in his sister’s gaze, the weight of it continuing to press down upon his shoulders and chest. He takes a moment to justify himself further to her, “She is a princess. Unlike us, she has been raised with the understanding that this would ultimately be required of her. If it was not to me, then it would eventually be to someone else.”

Lia shakes her head before leaving, slamming the door in her wake. Cal watches the door for a moment before turning back to his older brother, who lets out another long sigh, running his hand through his hair to cope with his sudden stress. The two brothers’ eyes meet, and Cal is the first to break the silence between them. “Rolan, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Rolan feels the hesitation bloom in his chest, but he pushes it down before it can reach its peak and show. He needs to do this…for everyone. 

“Of course I do,” Rolan says in a harsh whisper. He quickly grabs his overcoat and letter and heads to the door, and Cal follows behind. Rolan’s eyes are set forward and unwavering. “Now, come on, there is much to prepare before we can get this over with.”

Tav feels herself lurch forward for a second, her breath getting cut short as Shadowheart continues to tighten the laces of the silver and white gown. Tav groans softly before picking up where she had just been in her book, frantically reading as much of the text as possible before the ceremony.  

Shadowheart sighs as she straightens Tav’s back from hunching over the book. 

"Could you take a break from the books, my Lady?"

Tav hums in response as she continues reading The Devil You Know An Autobiography, “Just a few more pages…” Tav speaks slowly as she keeps her eyes glued to the text. 

Shadowheart frowns as her hands move to the waist cord, hastily trying to finish the braiding of the two kingdoms’ colors around in a dual-colored rope; Blue and yellow for Sivailon, crimson and dark blue for Waldemar. The Dark Prince’s kingdom, and soon Tav’s as well.

Growing frantic, Shadowheart looked around the tent before the cleric’s green eyes caught Lae’zel’s gaze with a silent plea for backup; the gith clicked her tongue as the knight took stock of what was left to do and how little time was left to do it before the ceremony needed to start.

Sheathing her sword, Lae’zel approached the princess and her lady-in-waiting before snatching the book from the former’s hands. Tav only made a small noise of protest and lifted her head for what had to have been the first time in hours. The two women stared at each other for a while, Tav mulling over her chances to quickly snatch the book back from her knight before the princess admitted defeat with a sigh as she finally allowed Shadowheart to sit her upright. Satisfied, Lae’zel placed the book on her now vacated stool before plucking makeup and a brush from among the various items Shadowheart had set out and began applying the pigment to their Lady’s face.

“This nervousness is beneath you, Princess.” She spoke in a tone that Tav once would have mistaken for ridicule but which she now recognized as her friend offering reassurance: “My offer to kill him still stands.”

Shadowheart stifles a laugh as Tav shakes her head at Lae’zel’s comment. Though she appreciates her fierce loyalty, she wants to avoid violence. 

“I am sure that no stabbings, maimings, or beheadings will be necessary tonight!” Wyll called in from where he stood guard outside the tent, the mirth apparent in his voice. Lae’zel mutters under her breath, disagreeing.

 “Though… if the Princess changes her mind…” Wyll casually adds, this earns a groan from Tav as Lae’zel nods in agreement with Wyll. 

Capitalizing on the gith’s moment of distraction, Tav sprung to her feet, dodging Shadowheart’s half-hearted attempt to stop her and giving her other knight a playful shove through the tent’s material.

“You were supposed to be the peaceful one, Wyll!” she chastised him without any real bite in her voice, “How else am I going to convince these two not to terrorize the people of my new court?!”

The sound of Wyll’s laughter followed her as Lae’zel firmly guided Tav back to her seat to finish getting ready.

“My duty is to you first and foremost, Princess, even if that means removing some heads with Lae’zel and Shadowheart.” Tav and her small group share a laugh, and the princess feels gratitude again that she will have them with her in Waldemar.

With one final pull, Shadowheart finished tying the waist cord before stepping back to look at her handy work. Tav’s dress, once an elaborate yet traditional Selûnite bridal gown of white and pale blue, was now married with the rich blood red and dark blues of Waldemar’s flag. Lae’zel was finished soon after, allowing the princess to properly thank her friends as she began to admire their work.

“I’m glad to see you approve.” Shadowheart chuckled. “I hope the gesture is worth all your arguing with the High Priestess.”

Tav hums, adjusting her dress’s long silk-like layers as Shadowheart and Lae’zel ready the veil. “It was a well-won victory.” Lae’zel asserted, “Our princess showed great tenacity in that fight. Like a proud warrior.”

“I just hope the gesture is appreciated.” Tav adds as they finally set the long veil over her, Tav studies herself closely till something in the mirror's reflection catches her eye. Shadowheart’s face glanced down solemnly making an ache rush through her chest, “Tav, I wouldn’t get high hopes… He is called the ‘Dark Prince’ for a reason.”

Wyll calls the cleric’s name in slight admonishment, but Tav only sighs, her face growing somber as well, “I know the stories. That’s why this needs to be a good first impression. So many people are counting on this, and I...”

The mood of the tent grows heavy as silence permeates the air. Tav knows what she has agreed to, but it still doesn’t remove the unease she feels—that they all feel.

“You won’t fail them.” Shadowheart says voice firm but kind as she reaches out to wrap her princess, her friend, in an equally firm hug, “I promise. Never forget, your very soul shines with the silver flame of our divine Lady. Her power will always be with you.”

“We all will be,” Wyll assures.

“And should all else fail,” Lae’zel adds as she resheaths her sword, “I still maintain my offer; should you desire, I will kill him.”

Tav smiled at their reassurance, perhaps The Dark Prince should be worried about impressing her.

Rolan felt his patience wearing thin as he continued to stand, waiting for the ceremony to start, the end of his tail beginning to flick irritatedly. It was bad enough he had to be away from his kingdom for this, the ceremony being held on the neutral ground of the druid grove lead by archdruid Halsin, but Sivailon had insisted that the wedding of their precious moon-blessed princess happen at dusk. Rolan let out another sigh of frustration. He has business to attend to and important things to oversee; they need to be getting a bloody move on.

Rolan looks out over the ‘guests’ here to witness the union, some he knows and others he doesn’t care to know. They are all here for the spectacle of the hellspawn usurper marrying a divinely blessed princess. Something many friends and foes wouldn’t want to miss. The Dark Prince turns away and lifts his gaze to the sky, hiding a poorly concealed sneer the thought brought forth. 

Soon, though still not soon enough, the fading blur of orange and soft lilac of sunset had finally given way to the dark indigo of night as the shimmering silver light from the full moon peeked out from among the clouds, allowing Selûne herself to be one more silent witness to the cold matrimony. Rolan fights the urge to roll his eyes; it just seems so pointless, but Zevlor’s words to be kind ring in his ears. “Let the princess have this one ceremonial request.” the old paladin had said. Well, now the oh-so-important full moon is here, but the princess isn’t, leaving the Dark Prince to narrow his eyes at where his bride should be as he resists the urge to impatiently tap his foot with the rising frustration at the princess wasting his time.

He has half a mind to stomp over to wherever his bride’s tent is and demand she stop dragging her feet, but his attention is drawn away when the waiting Selûnite priestess is startled by an unnecessarily theatrical clearing of the throat from off to the side. Recognizing who it was almost immediately, Rolan excused himself momentarily before stepping aside to hear what news Astarion had brought.

With the hood of his cloak down on his shoulders, Astarion seemed to be making the most of Sivailon’s insistence that this be a night-time ceremony allowing the moonlight to highlight the roguish glint of mischief in his red eyes, already cluing Rolan in that the spawn probably had good news—and if the Dark Prince happens to have find a shred of bitter satisfaction at the sight of the Sivailon elite growing almost as pale as the stealthy vampire spawn, then that, of course, was just an added bonus.

“No sight of Lorroakan or Cazador,” Astarion whispered to him “No sign of any former Waldemarians, in fact. Seems our dear Sivailon allies kept their word so far and made them all stay in whatever luxurious little holes the kingdom let them flee to.”

“I will consider their word kept once our business here is concluded.” Rolan replied plainly, even as the undeniable relief at Astarion’s news washed over the Dark Prince, “That being said, I do hope I will not have to remind you and the others to still conduct yourselves with care.”

“I promise we’ll not have too much fun on your big night.” The pale elf chortled to himself, “And don’t fret; your betrothed hasn’t fled yet. Violet saw the princess and her little posy on their way here. Turns out your dear wife-to-be really does have a gith following her around. Isn’t that interesting?”

Rolan gives a humorless scoff, not in the mood for Astarion’s teasing, no matter how much he appreciated the update. Dismissing the spawn with a wave of his hand, the vampire slipped back into the shadows, though not before giving a roguish grin at the still wide-eyed priestess to show off his fangs, and Rolan returned to where he would resume waiting for his bride. The Dark Prince leveled a harsh stare at the gaping priestess, wordlessly daring her to make something of it. She didn’t, instead merely closing her mouth as she nervously began flicking her eyes about the gathered people; be it in search of another spawn or something else, Rolan couldn’t care less.

The Dark Prince once again allowed his eyes to wander, first to the sturdy trees surrounding them all, then to the white rugs laid down and sectioning out the guests in a muting divide—a few of whom quickly glanced away as his gaze passed over them. Rolan once again restrained a sneer, for Zevlor’s sake, if nothing else. 

The old paladin, standing in front of the other guests and only about a dozen or so feet away from where the Dark Prince stood, had been adamant about attending, though Rolan also suspects Cal and Lia played a part in his general’s insistence—likely wanting to ensure their brother played nice with his new wife. Rolan had made sure the majority of his court stayed in Waldemar, preparing the castle and conducting business as usual. Hopefully Gale has been taking accurate notes in his absence, especially since Cal might be too preoccupied to help and Lia... Rolan tried not to think of the scornful disappointment she looked upon him with as he had departed. Irritation started to simmer again when soft music began to play, finally heralding the arrival of his bride as all save for the guards turned to witness her small procession approach.

First was a fair half-elfin woman with silver-white hair done up in a single long braid and robes similar to those of the waiting Selûnite priestess. A silver chalice encrusted with moonstones was cupped in the half-elf’s hands and her green eyes focused past him, as if seeing through all of this. Next was the gith, also a woman from what little he could recall on them, still armored and with her hand never straying from the hilt of her sword, her yellow eyes glaring fiercely at him, scrutinizing the Dark Prince’s every move. After the two admittedly fierce women, a man, roughly around his age, perhaps younger. Unlike the other two, he looks around at the others present, giving small nods and the occasional smile. As he walks down the aisle in his splendid blue and yellow garb, he thinks that he seems familiar somehow… maybe a noble himself or a son to one? Then her…

Dressed in an elaborate, flowing gown of white and pale blue, set with diamonds and moonstones that caused her to glisten in the moonlight as she moved. Her head was angled down towards her hands, pressed together as if in prayer, and her face remained obscured by a long veil held in place by a polished silver circlet, both just as decorated as she. While nearly the whole gathering of witnesses seemed to pause and admire the sight, Rolan’s eyes caught on her waist where, even through the veil, he spied the colors of her waist cord as she drew closer.

Admittedly, he doesn’t know much about Selûnite wedding customs, but he knows that yellow, crimson, and dark blue are not colors of the Moonmaiden. The Dark Prine bit back another sneer. What did the princess think she was playing at? Did she think a marriage for alliance was the time for... whatever this was? An attempt to stand out, to impose her own spin on something as trivial as the already decadent gown she wore?

The other cleric, the armored gith, and the man all take their places across from Zevlor to stand behind their princess. She comes to stand by the Dark Prince’s side and turns to face him even as her head remains tilted down. Rolan scrutinized his bride with mild confusion. Was she refusing to meet his gaze? Was this meant to be a display of meekness before the Dark Prince or a silent protest against the infernal creature she was marrying? A warm chuckle made Rolan look up where Halsin now stood, smiling beside Zevlor. The archdruid didn’t rush to hide his amusement from the Dark Prince, instead opting to politely glance away while Zelvor, as discreetly as possible, gestures for Rolan to lift and join the princess underneath her veil.

With a sigh, Rolan lifts the obscuring veil, now understanding its ridiculous length. He inwardly grumbled at having to partake in yet more ridiculous custom he was never privy to. Still, Zevlor’s words echo in his head once again as the younger tiefling carefully sets the veil over his horns. “Let the princess have this ...”

Once her soon-to-be husband has settled with her beneath the veil, Tav finally allows her gaze to lift and meet his.

Though she had done her best to prepare herself, she still felt her breath catch in her chest. The eyes of the Dark Prince stared back at her, amber glowing against inky pools of black like the fiery light that rings the moon during a solar eclipse. Standing so close to him, Tav was able to examine the fearsome usurper of Waldemar. Her sheer veil had partially obscured her view of what seems to be a pair of well-kept horns, accentuated with gilded rings and horn caps inset with small gems. Dark chestnut hair was partially pulled back, slightly covering pointed ears and hanging in loose waves that fell just to his shoulders. Tav had known he was a tiefling, but those who had fled from him to Sivailon apparently had overlooked a few features in their descriptions of the Dark Prince. Such as how his sharp features were decorated with a smattering of freckles on pale red skin, giving slight sweetness to a rather striking face.

Fearsomely handsome her old handmaids had whispered… she just wasn't expecting it to be true.

She is only half paying attention to the words of the High Priestess, though Tav still tries her best to keep up with the ceremony’s beats even as they skip certain steps. With every small stepping stone of the ceremony they reached, the arrangement felt more and more real.

 “Now, under Selûne’s radiant light, we ask the Moonmaiden to bless this union, to guide them towards prosperity that shall never truly wane.”

With how quickly the ceremony moves, it takes Tav a moment to realize they’ve already reached the imbibing offering. She’s apparently not the only one lost for a moment, as it takes an urgent look from the High Priestess and a friendly alert from Wyll before Shadowheart hurries to the princess’s side to hand her the silver chalice. Tav catches her friend’s eye as she accepts the vessel full of milk from her lady-in-waiting, giving her a small smile, which the cleric returns. After uttering a short prayer, the princess takes a sip of the cool liquid, focusing on the refreshing chill down her throat, before holding it out to the Dark Prince in turn. His brow furrows as he silently looks down at the cup, confused as if she were holding out a toad.

After a beat, he leaned in slightly, “No, thank you.”

Tav might have found mirth in how the High Priestess balked at the Dark Prince’s rejection had it not also taken the princess herself by surprise for a moment, though she kept a grip on her own expression.

My customs are not his, she reminds herself, so she instead merely passes the still partially filled cup back to a wide-eyed Shadowheart. The princess catches a glimpse at Wyll’s equally wide-eyed expression before he subtly places a firm hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder; the githyanki’s hand had moved to clutch the hilt of her sword in a death grip as her slit eyes glare daggers toward the Dark Prince for his public insult to her princess.

After that brief hiccup and skipping over the ring exchange, it was time for the part they knew was coming: “Now to bond this union with a kiss.”

It’s as if the forest itself is watching, waiting with bated breath for the divinely touched princess and the infernally tainted usurper to proceed. They haven’t even had a conversation yet, but now they must...

The Dark Prince looks down at her, and Tav feels the weight of his scrutinizing stare as surely as she feels that of the attendees, even as his expression gives little else away. His luminous eyes flick down to her lips. With a steading inhale of the cool night air, the princess lets her eyes flutter shut and tilts her head closer. Tav feels his warm, clawed hand cup her cheek, her heart thrumming as she feels his breath calmly cascading over her flushing face. Then, the brush of soft, firm lips alight upon her cheek.

It was so chaste, so brief that Tav hardly registered it had happened at all before the tiefling was already retracting his hand. Hells, she’s sure the guests are probably as equally surprised.

The head cleric seems stumped momentarily before they wrap up the ceremony. The King and Queen of Waldemar, whose union was sealed with a kiss on the cheek…

The High Priestess also seemed stunned, stumbling over her next few words as the ceremony ended and Shadowheart removed the veil from their heads.

Though the haste of this whole affair was far from traditional, the two newlyweds still went through the motions of walking hand-in-hand down the aisle as the attendees lauded the new King and Queen of Waldemar, whose union was sealed in a rather unusual way.

Once away from prying eyes, the Dark Prince leads Tav to a pair of carriages already hitched and ready to leave. Standing by them, she sees three cloaked, rather well-dressed, rather pallid individuals standing guard. Three sets of red eyes look back at her, and suddenly, Tav feels her blood grow cold as she realizes what they are.

“Leaving your adoring public so soon?” one of them, an elf with white curly hair, coos at their approach, grinning in a manner that feels anything but friendly and which doesn’t even attempt to conceal his vampiric fangs. He wears a fancy doublet of dark maroon with silvery and gilded embroidery, which glints in the moonlight, along with the dagger he casually twirls about in his hand.

An elven woman with her own fanged and mischievous smile giggled, coyly brushing a lock of pale, wavy, and elegantly coiffed hair from her shoulder to tuck it behind her ear. She was garbed in a comparatively simpler, but no less splendid, dark red outfit.

Before the elven woman could speak, the third, a tiefling herself with black hair that had been braided and pulled back into an elaborate bun, hurriedly hushed the other two, “Violet, Astarion, enough.” Her eyes flicked from the newlyweds to the other two vampires to the ground as her clawed hand nervously adjusted the string of small medallions decorating the dark blue coat of her delicately constructed outfit; the vibrancy of the red cloth underneath only further drawing attention to the pallor of her red skin.

Tav hadn’t realized her own feet had stopped moving until the Dark Prince—Dark King—gave her hand a tug before releasing it. With his warmth gone, she lets her hand fall limply as she watches him keep his stride. 

Coming back to herself, she becomes aware of an older, armored tiefling—who she recognizes as the man standing behind her now husband during the ceremony—sharing a handshake with Halsin.

The burly elf gives her a warm smile when Tav approaches, once again offering thanks for allowing the ceremony to take place on their land and with such short notice.

“The land is not ours, your Majesty,” Halsin rumbled soothingly, “We only live among its bounties and shield it from undue harm.”

“Then we thank you for trusting us with it for this evening.”

Halsin’s kind smile grew even further before he seemed to remember something, “Before you and yours depart, I thought it only appropriate that our grove offer you both a wedding gift as I understand the others in attendance have.”

Tav didn’t have the chance to assure the archdruid that such a thing was unnecessary before the large elf presented her with a string of leaves.

“I’m afraid it is not as elaborate as the other gifts you will receive from this night, but these are from the sacred oaks at the center of our grove.” he explained, “I felt it was the only thing befitting this occasion.”

Tav felt her mouth drop open slightly at the druid’s words, and she reached out for the gift offered before hesitating. Reaching up to unclasp the heavy necklace she wore, she passed the jewelry over to Wyll, who stowed it away in one of his pockets, before accepting the string of oak leaves and having Shadowheart help her affix it around her neck. Halsin’s expression, having momentarily dimmed in confusion and worry when her hand had retreated, warmed once again upon seeing her now carefully ghost her fingers across the leaves.

Tav opened her mouth again, either to apologize for having concerned him or to thank him once again. She wasn’t sure, and she would never get the chance to know. 

“Your husband could be in more of a hurry, but then his ass would be on fire…” Shadowheart sneered, prompting Tav to look behind herself towards her friend and lady-in-waiting.

“I’m sure he has his reasons.” though her words don’t come out sounding as self-assured as she’d hoped, even to her own ears, “We-Sivailon insisted on having the ceremony so soon in order to have it done beneath Selûne’s full gaze. He- We probably have other things we need to get back to in Waldemar.”

“Well, it seems he is rather eager…” Lae’zel hissed, her eyes focused on something off to the side with undisguised contempt, “Your husband and his undead are already leaving in the carriage without you.”

What?!

Sure enough, as Tav hastily turns to follow her knight’s gaze, the newly made Queen is greeted by the sight of one carriage already departing. Neither her King nor his vampires were in sight—at least not until a dainty pale hand briefly poked out from the carriage window to give a parting wave before disappearing again.

Tav’s brow furrows, but she quickly tries to school her expression as Halsin politely goes to take his leave and return to the grove. Not sure what else to say, Tav thanks him once again and the archdruid and the older tiefling part with an exchange of well wishes that carry an air of friendliness beyond mere cordiality. As the druid departs, his large frame vanishing into the forest, the sound of metallic armor shifting and brushing against itself alerts Tav to the armored teifling’s approach.

He gives her a tight but seemingly genuine smile and bows, “Your Majesty, my name is Zevlor, General of Waldemar’s army and, tonight, your carriage’s extra guard to help lead you and your people to our palace.”

“Pleasure to meet you, General Zevlor.” Tav lowered herself in a small curtsy, nearly missing how the older tiefling’s eyes widened slightly, “I appreciate your guidance and protection, but may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Isn’t it customary for the King and Queen to ride together?”

“Ah...” Zevlor’s expression pinches for a moment as if trying to restrain a grimace while his gaze briefly flicks over toward where the King’s carriage continues to draw further and further away from them, “Rolan—that is to say, the King—thought you would be more comfortable traveling this way. You will be riding together once we reach Waldemar proper, but until then, it seemed right to allow time for you to… adjust.”

Adjust?!

Tav pressed her lips together, now holding on to a tight smile of her own as her mind screeched in frustration that such a decision had apparently been made for her. Dragging in a purposefully slow breath, she focused on the sensation of the crisp night air filling her lungs rather than the rising tide of her irritation. They had not been married for more than an hour and had hardly stood in each other’s presence for much longer; it was far too early to lose patience with her co-ruler now.

Yes, Tav reminds herself, it had been the Dark Prince’s idea that she would be ruling at his side. It certainly would not be good for her to fixate over what had to be an unintentional and ultimately minor slight from her husband.

Releasing her breath, she smiled now more sincerely at the general, “Well, we had best make haste, lest we keep the others waiting.”

[tmntxthings]

一∑ In The Sky・゜・。

author’s note: it’s been so long i legit had to think about how to bold words… oof, hello hello, tis i to drop off a song inspired drabble and then disappear back into the depths of.. wherever i came from? xD

song inspired: Castle in the Sky by eaJ

word association: self-deprecation, infatuation, ‘out-of-my-league’, reaffirmation, one-sided love, overthinking, obsessive

warnings: like one curse word, slight yandere thoughts, unedited

—————————————————————————

It was moments like these. Where he looked up and just knew some things would never change.

Donatello saw cement. He smelled sewage. Though he had major improvements in that department where it mattered, it was still here. It was still everywhere but his home. He was sure he could solve this problem easily. Just send his creations out further than their targeted perimeters. But that wouldn’t happen.

The smell warded off most unwanted guests and attention. It would stay as it always has been. It would smell of filth and garbage and worse things.

Donnie blinked as his wrist vibrated. Ah yes. You were on your way. It was raining. He knew that and yet he couldn’t move a muscle to meet you out further than where he was. Maybe it was because he thought you might change your mind.

What if you decided you didn’t want to visit the monster in the sewers? What if you decided it wasn’t worth your time. Because truthfully Donnie didn’t think he deserved your time nor attention.

And yet you still gave it to him. More than just those things though. You gave him hope. Which was a dangerous thing.

See you, you lived up there. Past the cement. You lived with the sky. And every time you dropped to his level. Every time you lowered yourself to be with him, in his terrain, trapped under cement and with currents of muck. Donnie felt a multitude of things. He questioned more.

Were you lonely up there? Was that why you descended? Was his company even enough to ease that loneliness? He couldn’t tell.

Why did you stay? Longer each time in fact and he was worried one day you would fall asleep down here. You didn’t belong hidden beneath cold stone. You were the sun. You belonged up there. In the clouds, in the sky.

He felt like he had become the gravity. Like he dragged you down into the depths of darkness with him. It was conflicting. He hated himself sometimes. And to make it worse he couldn’t stop but spilling everything on his mind with you. He made you promise practically every meeting that you wanted to be there. That you wanted to be with him. That he wasn’t being too much.

It took lots of reassuring and he still couldn’t believe it. That someone like you could find him something other than miserable. You called him smart. You called him charming. You called him funny. Donatello warmed at those words but in the back of his mind he didn’t think he deserved them.

His wrist vibrated once more and he shook his head clearing all thoughts. The manhole cover lifted and directly above him, there you were. Peering down, rain falling down around you and from the strands of your wet hair. You squinted for a moment before your eyes adjusted and found him.

It was like timed slowed as he watched that smile of yours spread. Beaming of happiness, directly towards him. The sun. Shining down on him as you called out his name. Donnie swallowed, wishing for the millionth time that he could live in the sky too. Things would be different. He wouldn’t feel this way. Like he wasn’t easy to be around. Like he caused you discomfort and pain. Like he was holding his breath waiting to wake up from this dream.

And yet you descended, joining him.

Donnie thought that he needed to be careful. Lest he get addicted. Lest he get entitled. Heaven forbid he start to believe that someone as holy as you were meant to be with him. Like it was some sort of fucked up destiny.

Your feet landed on the pavement. Your arms went around his middle. And he bent forward, head nuzzling into your hair and trying to memorize the way you smelled. Like rain and perfume and something sweet.

Oh how he wished for more. Wished to be more. Wished to be similar. Wished like hell to be yours and for you to be his and things to be different and it made him hold you tighter. One of these days he wouldn’t be able to let go.

—————————————————————————

[withinthereeds]

Can you tell us more about the mirror man?

i love being mentally ill about that cunt. Brain slop coming right up.

The Basics of What We Know: largely borrowed from queen0fm0nsterz post on the man.

His presence is known within the Nowhere

His presence is also known outside of the Nowhere

He preys on the insecurities of those who gaze into the mirror

He traps his victims on the Other Side of the glass (his domain)

His victims are seemingly unharmed by being taken (by itself)

Let's take another look at the Room he has in VLN

Again, piggybacking off Carols' post, we know the fence represents the mirror itself, and the paper planes represent children.

What I find odd is that even within the Nowhere, the mirror man is Still represented as behind a barrier. As if his domain isn't within the Nowhere itself. Which would explain how he could also sort of cross into the (presumed) waking world through the mirror's reflection.

I don't want to go overboard with metaphysical speculation but magic certainly exists within the Nowhere as shown by the Lady, and with TSoN we know the Nowhere exists on at least a partially separate plane of existence from the waking world.

Onto the actual headcanons I have regarding his origin and behavior.

He once was a magician of sorts. Misdirection and illusion being his specialty, not Real magic like the Ladies of the Maw possessed.

For awhile he worked at the Carnival in the Sky seen in TSoN, half as a Con Artist, but later moved to the Pale City for a more dignified performance (and for better pay/opportunities) (and out of minor guilt).

After the world started going mad, he had a particular Confrontation with the most influential figure in the Pale City. This led to him being banished, not only from the city, but from the world itself.

Said confrontation also transformed him into a parody of himself. Into the monster we know him as today.

The tendrils on his head are in fact Leeches, sprouted from his own insecurities about being a mooch, stemming from his past.

Said insecurities became reality once more after he was forced into the mirror, reaching out for whatever he could, Wherever he could.

I still believe he has Some honor to him, and perhaps a bit of shame regarding his underhanded tactics. Could be why he left the circus, could be why he allowed the surviving boys to change themselves back with the mirror.

He's undeniably petty for what he did to that girl though.

On the topic of mirrors I do not believe he can see out of all of them at once, it's just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. Each mirror is like a door or window to him.

Anyway with his reputation and self image in shambles he picked up work at the carnival again, never stepping foot onto the ship itself but instead working the funhouse mirrors.

Occasionally he'd also deliver transfigured children to the ringmaster to be displayed in a freakshow side tent. Most likely to reaffirm his self worth, no matter the cost.

all in all: rip bozo

(/j i know this didnt kill him since it was more like breaking a window.)

[sardonic-the-writer]

—a stakeout

SUMMARY | a late night steakout with tangerine has you questioning how you really feel for him

PAIRING | tangerine x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNING | mentions of guns, hit men, murder, some angst, etc

WORD COUNT | 2k+

AUTHORS NOTES | no spoilers for bullet train! and as much as i love the rivals/enemies to lovers troupe with tange, here's some softer stuff. happy holidays!

🍊 Masterlist 🍊 Navigation 🍊 Rules 🍊

Lemon had done this on purpose.

He had always had the ability to read people well when he wasn't busy talking about that train show of his. You swore he could tell what you were feeling before you did most times—instantly there with a handful of tissues or some reaffirming words before you even knew it. Most times it was real a help.

Most times.

That was all you could think as you stared out a tinted window into the cold night. The leather of the car seat underneath you was warm from hours of constant body heat, your legs surely numb from blood loss by this point.

From next to you sat a tall figure, dressed to the nines per usual. Soft ringlets of messy brown hair fell in his eyes, only ever moving as he let out a big sigh on occasion.

Tangerine rested his head in one hand, the other drumming his fingertips across the steering wheel as he clutched it. Flashes of moonlight would steadily dance over your vision as the luminescence caught sight of the metal rings decorating his fingers.

His rings. Seperate pages in one giant book it often seemed. Each one of them told an individual story throughout his life. The pitch black ring on his pinky? The first time he'd ever gotten into a fist fight on the job, that one had left a mark deep enough in the other guys face to shed buckets of blood. A lucky hit. Tangerine often told that story with pride, boasting that you would still be able to see the scar he left behind to this day.

The chunky gold one situated snugly on his pointer? Lemon had snatched that off a random bloke that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time a few years ago. It had been right when they had first gotten into the business, presenting it to his twin afterward with a clap on the back as a job well done. A sick gift of sorts, but it still managed to make each of them smile when they looked at it.

And that smooth, rose gold band hanging around his chest—dangling loosely on a silver chain? Well that was the reason you were currently sitting in a car in the dead of night.

Lemon was no fool. The moment he had seen you pull out that small gift box for his brother last week, he had recognized that love sick smile on your face. The way your eyes shone with excitement as you practically bounced on the balls of your feet when he went to open it. Lemon should be able to recognize it after all. It was the same look Tangerine got anytime you entered the room.

It was antagonizing for him really. Watching the both of you harbor crushes for each other in your own ways. (Tangerine; constantly checking for texts from you when he was away, using more than enough loving nicknames for you just to see your ears grow red. You; buying anything and everything that reminded you of him, doodling little drawings of the man on the corner of your loose leaf nktebooks at briefings before quickly erasing them.)

Finally he had had enough, pulling you off to the side last night. He had been a bit too rough about it for his liking, but it didn't matter now.

"Here's the plan." He didn't even stop to acknowledge your confused expression, questions surely bubbling on the tip of your tongue. "I'm sick. Very sick. You're not. Tha' stake out tomorrow night? You're goin' on it mate."

"The fuck Lemon?"

"Mate, just trust me. I know you fancy m' brother. Just take th' opportunity."

He had taken your stunned silence as a yes, giving you his best smile before moving on like nothing had happened.

So far, that was the only thing you had been able to focus on the entire time you'd been sitting idle on this hill. Not your target or his friends' late night activity you were supposed to be monitoring. Just re-running things over and over in your mind until you were dizzy with the effort.

All the times you had tried to be subtle with the longing looks and sporadic gifts. All the nights you had lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. Wondering if it would even be possible for someone like him to love you back. How did Lemon know? Were you really that obvious? Did anyone else know?

More importantly, did Tangerine know?

"Alright. S' going on in that lil head of yours (Y/n). Been quiet all night. Not like you."

Tangerine was now facing you. Arm draped around the back of your seat as if preparing to back out of a parking space. Heat from his hand radiated mere inches from your neck, but you pushed your shiver down with a forceful swallow.

"The mission." You shrugged, not moving your gaze from its spot on the window. Hoping that your response would be the end of this conversation.

"Yeah right." Tangerine just snorted. "You've never cared for these kinds of jobs love."

You forced the butterfly in your stomach to be killed off one by one. Refusing to be affected by the nickname.

"Guess I do now." Your shoulders moved with the effort of another shrug.

Tangerines mouths dipped down into a slight frown. He had been looking forward to a night alone with you. Maybe even going to get some food afterwards, even if just under the guise of two friends having a meal together. He would take it. He would take anything involving you at that point if he was being truthful.

Calloused fingers gently cradled your chin, softly gripping it as Tangerine turned your head to face him. You finally got a proper look at him, seeing the way his baby blue eyes rippled with concern as they traced unseeable patterns on your face. You were so focused on his intense stare that you forgot to remind yourself not to lean into his hand.

"You alright love?"

It would be so easy to kiss him. Just a little stretch of your neck and—

"I'm fine." His hand fell away from your face as you jerked yourself away. You almost immediately regretted it, wanting nothing more to feel him against you for a moment more.

"(Y/n)—"

"I'm just peachy Tan." You snapped, suddenly feeling angry. "Can we get back to our jobs now? You know. The thing we came here to do?"

Tangerine felt his own face flare up with anger. A rare feeling when it came directed at you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He frowned with a bit more bite to his tone than he intented. The sound of it made a flicker of regret cross your face before it was replaced with a scowl. "Seriously, who fucken pissed in your oatmeal this mornin?"

"Oh like you don't fucking know." Your own teeth grit against each other as you glared at him. The both of you now locked in a heated staring match. It wouldn't be a suprise if the windows started to fog up. The car certainly seemed like it was a lot hotter than it had been a few minutes ago.

"What, so I can fucken read your mind now?" He ran a hand through his hair in a jerky movement. The way your heart fluttered at his disheviled state drove another molten spike of rage into your heart, frustrated with yourself for finding him attractive even in the middle of an argument.

"Sometimes I really hate you Tan." You hissed. How it had gotten to this point you had no idea. But each word was like a nail to the heart for you.

"Yeah? Well, you're not exactly a joy ta be around all the time either, sunshine."

"And that's another thing!" You were full on yelling now, probably looking like a crazy person to any passing cars as you threw your hands in the air. "Stop fucking calling me those names! I bet you think you can just charm your way into anyone's pants with that huh?"

"When the fuck did I ever say anything like that!? And I thought you liked the nicknames for fucks sake!"

"I do!" You hissed with clenched fists. "The problem is I like them too fucking much! I like you too fucking much Tan! And it's killing me knowing I can't do a single goddamn thing about it!"

It was only after it was already out there did you realize what you had really said.

"Fuck. Listen—"

You didn't get any farther than that before Tangerine slammed his lips into your own. A sound of muffled suprise made it past your lips before it was quickly swallowed by him, along with the rest of your breath. The faint feeling of something prickly ticking your upper lip sang in your head as you realized it was his mustache, resulting in a silent sort of laughter. Teeth clicked against each other harshly before you reached up to rest a hand on his jaw and the other in his hair, steadying his pace to a softer, more tender one.

He only broke away in time for you to notice how fuzzy your head was becoming at the lack of oxygen. Gasping for breath, you brushed a hand over your lips. As if checking to make sure that had really just happened. Or maybe to keep the moment bottled up forever, solidifying it with the graze of your fingers.

Both of you took a moment, panting for breath as a way to fill the silence.

"Did you just—?"

"Yeah."

"Did we just—?"

"Sure did."

"And that means you're—?"

"If you ask anymore questions I might have to kiss you again (Y/n)."

The smile in his voice shone through. You allowed yourself one as well, eyes watering.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for." The englishman sighed, resting his elbows on his thighs as he watched you stare star struck at him. "Please tell me I didn't seriously misread the situation there." He added on as an afterthought with a chuckle, already knowing the answer as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry Tangerine." The sudden apology left you with a breathy quality. Tears were threatening to fall at a rapid pace now, one or two escaping. You couldn't tell if they were from remorse or joy. "I didn't mean that. Any of it."

"What about th' part where you confessed your undying love for me?"

He laughed as you went to hit him in the chest playfully, noting how the tears in the corner of your eyes began to disappear.

"You know what I meant. And I did no such thing." Your efforts to conceal a smile were fruitless for once. "You just got lucky this time."

"This time?" He reached a hand out to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek with a sudden fondness. "Nah. Been plenty lucky for a while now, love."

"Sap." You mummbled, closing your eyes with a sigh as he continued to leave soft strokes against your skin.

"Just for you darling."

You really would have to thank Lemon when you got back home.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Alright, I’ve been an Italy truther for a long time, but I’ve had to readjust my thinking after the live tonight. I am now pretty firm in the fact that they were together in some capacity by the beginning of 2023 (if not a little earlier). There are too many things lining up that don’t point anywhere else. I think L was fully in, but N kept things more at an arms length. She has said she’s cynical about love and honestly I think she was also probably scared by the magnitude of it. My guess is she hid behind her busy schedule filming both Bridgerton and Big Mood and L starting TSOTs as an excuse to keep things more casual. Honestly, I think L getting on Raya and his HBS is more reactionary to this than anything else. It seems like a big game of chicken that went horribly wrong on both sides. N wanted to keep things more casual and al tried to call her bluff.

I think the final straw for a was the Emily Bear incident. She was in too deep and had a glimpse at the negativity and how all of this could hurt their careers which seems like an absolute deal breaker to her. It was also just a smack in the face even though she wouldn’t commit herself. The play is the last time they saw each other before they parted ways. They made sure to do it as friends so as not to affect their working partnership and because they both really love each other.

L was devastated and just dove headfirst into HBS and quickly after him and N parted ways, he met A. She was fun and easy and fit in with his friends. And, maybe most importantly, was the complete opposite of N. He kept it mostly to himself and when him and N checked in and chatted, he never told her he had met one person, just that he was dating. Then the NYE kiss he never intended to get out was broadcast everywhere. This kind of picks up where I originally had thought which is that the early tour weirdness was based on this.

I think what we say Valentines Day on was N and L back together and on a good page thinking they could go forward as friends. They thought they’d found their equilibrium. They were wrong. Bowral showed them how wrong they were. Everything came rushing back once they were out traveling together and spending so much time. L might’ve been upset that N was trying so hard to act like everything was totally fine. I think the Italy convo was more a hashing out of what N was really feeling in 2023 vs what she had previously communicated. Hence why we get them progressively getting loved up and happy the remainder of the tour. I think post Brazil, L and A had a talk that he was still mulling over the rest of the tour.

In Galway, post premiere, when he may or may not have stayed the weekend with her and her family, they had a convo and L told N he was in a relationship with A and he needed to see that through. My guess this was fueled partly by guilt towards A, partly him having real feelings for A (not like he has for N though) and partly cause he was rejected by N previously and was still hurt and also a little reluctant to go down that road again knowing how devastated he was the first time.

N being the strong, badass that she is took it in stride even though she was totally heartbroken. She started to harden her heart back up which is why we see her reacting a little less to L (or trying at times) when they were back in London. I think they both were emotional for different reasons at the London premiere, but they still found comfort in each other cause no matter what, the absolutely love each other and again reaffirmed they will stay friends no matter what.

N has totally softened and begun to believe in love because of L (😭), but totally understands where he is at which is why she has supported him even in light of pap gate. She’s heartbroken, but hopeful in a way she never had been before.

Cut to the video JVN posted of her signing along to T Swift’s Enchanted…

🎶please don’t be in love with someone else…

There is a lot to consider here anon

Thank you for sharing 💜

Also adding in your follow up ask below 👇

“I just sent in an essay length ask about previously being an Italy truther, but I wanted to add something….I’ve always thought it was weird that L brought A to some stops at the beginning (Jan/feb) of the press tour and I think if he was feeling insecure about his relationship with N, it would make total sense for him to bring her as a safety blanket. I’m not saying he’s madly in love or anything, but I think she’s easy. If he was stressed about his dynamic with N, then having an excuse to retreat to something/someone simple would be nice. I think that’s also part of why we maybe didn’t see her later in the tour. Yes, they were busy, but he didn’t need her or want her there anymore.”

[raayllum]

I don't even know if I can adequately express how much this scene means to me (besides the slight gushing I gave it in regards to Callum's characterization a while ago) but I'm gonna do my best / talk about it more in relation to the context its primarily couched in, which is Rayllum's dynamic.

Rayla, we've been through a lot is the understatement of the year, but has been continually reaffirmed over the course of the seasons ("We're in this together" from 1x05; "In fact, it's probably the hardest thing we've ever done. But we haven't done it alone" in 2x01 about her explicitly; "Believe me, I wish I could go down with you" from 2x07; "I'm here with you" in 3x04, etc). They mourned, travelled, changed together, gave each other new senses of self and purposes, saved each other's lives, and for Callum in particular, trusted her with Ezran numerous times. She's his person - she has been for a long time.

And a lot has changed. The time they spent together was the craziest, most transformative period of their lives, and now even as everything threatens to be crazy again, they have/know something they didn't before: each other as their cornerstone, and that's not changing, as he goes on to say with a little smile on his face to boot.

Ah, well, some things have changed... like having their parents, or an old crush on Claudia, or not trusting one another, or trying to save a dying dragon egg, or not being madly in love with each other, lmao.

But not everything has changed, he reflects. ("Do you understand? We'll lose everything." / "He sacrificed everything to Azymondias could be born" / "You're my brother, and you mean everything to me" / "Rayla's strong, thin arms wrapped around him meant everything"). Through it, through so much of the change and all the heartbreak and the last two years, one thing has never changed. It never will.

I would do anything for you.

("I had to do something. I had to save him" / "Maybe there is something I can do" / "Give me something. Show me that not all is lost." / "I would do anything to change this." / "I'll do anything for our family, Dad. However dangerous, however vile." / "I'll do anything to save my son. I'll do anything!")

This line already would've been a sucker punch and flashing neon light warning sign even without the prior two episodes directly hammering it in with Viren, Claudia, and dark magic. On the one hand, it's incredibly sweet and reassuring - that no matter what Rayla needs help with, Callum will help her shoulder it, and do anything and everything he can for her (like he's always done). It's exactly what she needed to hear. On the other hand, it's dangerously exploitable as we see later this season, and I cannot wait to see where it goes from here.

While I could see it manifesting in something related to the coins (because again, context of said conversation) given the routine emphasis on protection ("I have always done what protects my family" / "Everything I do, it's for my family. It's to save my dad" / "So long as we protect each other, so long as we love each other, you can never control us" "They'll do anything for you, so you'll do anything for them") I do lean towards it, as always, taking a far darker, more drastic route. And if you know, you know ;)

[neuroticboyfriend]

idk if you want other experiences about cannabis? So feel free to ignore!

But it is our go-to and helps our psychosis and schizo stuff more than anything else. (Antipsychotics had no effect on my psychosis.) Weed helps me so much both with reducing the amount of delusions and their severity. It also makes me care way, way, way less (same for my social anxiety and phobias and physical pain). It also just reduces my stress which reduces my hallucinations and delusions. I don't think it specifically reduces visual or auditory hallucinations much for me outside of that but it does make me not care about them. [And note: if I get *really really really high* (like taking double my tolerance in edibles or something) it can make my psychosis worse but still in a way where I'm less distressed by it and don't need to act on it, so like, still a win?]

I had fully developed schizoaffective for years before I tried cannabis, and stayed away from it for a long time, for the same reason as you. So totally up to you, and I respect your decision either way! (Not that my input matters lol but just reaffirming it's your right to choose!] and I definitely would try it with someone I trust the first time, and not use very much.

But i know quite a few psychotic people who really benefit from cannabis. And I know a couple who aren't psychotic in regular life but get paranoid on weed. So like. It depends! It's not for everyone but it can really help some people. My partner and i are both much saner on cannabis. But it's up to you if you want to try it or not! Feel free to message if you ever wanna talk about it or have questions. <3

I'm sorry things are hard, have another baby Julian (he's growing up so fast sob emoji 😭 )

ID: a five week old dilute orange kitten. He has white on his chest and big ears and is sitting among a bunch of toys, and half sitting in a coiled spring toy

That's honestly really good to know. I thought there was no chance someone like me could ever use weed, but maybe there is hope. I cant be normal about substances, but maybe I cant get a medical marijuana card.

I'm trying to see substances as a means to an end, instead of moralizing them and feeling like I'm doomed because I use them. Yeah, I definitely am on a downwards trend but, harm reduction. That's what helps me most, and weed is a lot safer than narcotics and alcohol.

Also so happy to see kitten Julian growing up!! honestly the fact you link me to him even tho we dont know each other in person or talk privately a lot is :') it warms my heart. Thank you friend, I always love hearing from you - your experiences and insight are always helpful.

[hendolish]

Can u write something abt Trent being jealous of how close Jude has been getting with vini so during international breaks he corners him and brings it up and Jude goes “well what abt dom” and then they get into this argument but then they fuck like angry type sex idk I’m just rambling atp

jude bellingham/trent alexander-arnold - love rekindled ♡

The tension between Trent and Jude has been simmering for months. It'd been tolerable at first, barely noticeable. But not all things heal with time, and on a particularly cold and quiet night during the international break at SGP, the topic is finally broached.

Upon running into the younger on the way to bed after having avoided him all day, Trent corners Jude in a dimly lit corridor of the hotel, and he can't help but let the words tumble out. "Fuck’s sake Jude, I can't take it anymore. You and Vini, it's like you're inseparable. It's driving me insane."

Jude's eyes flash with defiance as he retorts, "So, I'm not allowed to have friends now?"

Trent can feel his jealousy consuming him. "It's not about having friends, Jude. It's about how close you two have become. I can't help but wonder if there's something more between you."

The tension in the air is thick, their breathing heavy and charged. Jude's voice drops to a whisper. "What's the matter, Trent? Jealous that I have someone to talk to when you're busy with your precious Dom at Liverpool?"

Trent's anger flares, and his voice is laced with frustration. "Don't turn this around on me, Jude. You know I have to focus on my club too. But the way you and Vini—"

Before he can finish his sentence, Jude closes the distance between them, smashing their lips together. The kiss is fierce and unrelenting, filled with pent-up frustration, longing, and raw desire.

Their tongues dance together dangerously, and their hands freely roam each other's bodies, desperately seeking what they've been missing for far too long. The corridor provides a cloak of shadows, hidden from prying eyes, and they make the most of it before Trent's soon scrambling for this keycard and directing them into his room.

Jude's back slams against the cold wall, as he moans into the kiss. Trent's hands tangle in Jude's hair, while Jude's fingers claw at Trent's shirt. The world outside ceases to exist as they explore each other with an intensity that leaves them breathless and aching for more.

Finally breaking the kiss, Jude's voice is hoarse with desire. "Do you still think there's something more between me and Vini?"

Trent, his own breath laboured, can't help but chuckle. "I don't give a shit about Vini. All I care about is us."

Their lips crash together again, and the pent-up energy and frustration that had fuelled their argument are now channelled into their passionate union. In that corridor, illuminated by desire, Jude and Trent finally found solace in each other's arms.

Their love has weathered jealousy, arguments, and time apart. But in that stolen moment, it was reaffirmed, stronger than ever, and the future held the promise of a love rekindled.

♡

[robynrocksforbrains]

I saw this post from @thestrangestthing89 and I was gonna reblog and add my thoughts but then I kinda got carried away and it felt like too much idk so I'm just doing this

A little ramble about when I think byler will get together

Realistically I see them getting together around mid-season. Like Mike and El are essentially done. I think an official breakup scene is very important for both of them, and I think it'll happen pretty early in the season. The love triangle aspect of it all is essentially over. That's what the last shot of the season showed us. El walks past Mike, stepping out of the triangle formation, and she stands alone. Mike chooses to stay with Will. Mike has made his decision. El has made her decision. And we all know where Will's heart is.

It wouldn't make sense to draw the love triangle out any longer than it already has been. El and Mike aren't gonna have time to pretend to love each other. When it comes to interpersonal relationships, El's #1 priority is gonna be Max, and Mike's #1 priority is gonna be Will.

So with the love triangle aspect resolved, there is literally nothing standing between Mike and Will but themselves. And they've been dancing around each other for way too long now. It would not make any sense to keep that going until the end.

They've already agreed to be a team, and they reaffirmed that in the last episode, and "team" is basically stranger things code word for "couple". They crossed the line between friendship and romance a long time ago. I don't think they're gonna ignore it for much longer.

Even though they're not officially together, I can guarantee the boyfriendism is gonna be off the charts from start to finish.

Just like Lucas and Max in s4. They were officially broken up, but I honestly forgot while watching the season because they weren't acting like they were broken up. The love was so present and clear. It didn't matter that they technicaly weren't a couple. That's something I've noticed with ST couples. Relationship status doesn't really mean anything. It's really about the feeling you get from each pairing.

Steve and Nancy were officially a couple, they did not feel like a couple

Mike and El are officially a couple (not for long), they do not feel like a couple (never have felt like one)

Joyce and Bob were officially a couple, but something about it just didn't feel right

Joyce arnd Hopper are only recently an official couple, yet they've felt like a couple since s2, and even at some points in s1.

Jonathan and Nancy weren't a couple until s2e6, but they started to feel like a couple after Nancy went to the UD for like five minutes in s1. (I don't remember what episode that was)

With Lucas and Max, it's what I said earlier. They were officially broken up in s4, yet they still felt like a couple to the audience.

And finally, our beloveds, Mike and Will. Yeah, they aren't officially a couple, but they basically renewed their vows in Dear Billy and they had some of the most beautiful romantic moments in the entire show. So they feel like a couple even though they technicaly aren't one. And that's not gonna change in s5, it's only going to be more obvious until they can't ignore it anymore. And I think they're gonna reach that point pretty quickly, because they're basically already there.

I do think a lot of people choose to believe they won't be official until the end because they don't wanna be disappointed. And that's totally valid. Anyone can temper their expectations however much they deem necessary. But I really do think that everything is pointing to them getting together mid-season but acting like a couple even before that. It's something we've seen before.

This has just been a ramble. I just have a lot of thoughts about it.

In conclusion, I think that the prediction of them getting together at the end is very pessimistic, but I also completely understand that pessimism. I choose to be a bit more optimistic about it, but I also think that the progression of this storyline so far supports my optimism. But who knows? Maybe I'm setting myself up for disappointment. We'll just have to wait and see.

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

what if i want to see nasty iterator bullshit because they have nasty creators that would've likely let this happen so they could ascend and make them solve their stupid fucking problem that made them all miserable and fucked up to begin with when created. not even in terms of relationships or anything.

their existence is fucked up and they should be allowed to do fucked up stuff. pebbles literally nearly killed moon if it wasn't for significant giving slag keys. maybe pebbles would come to moon even including giving up his core. you can see his observers start to wander further in game after the core is taken. suns fucked up with pebbles when they did their best to help and advise. same with sliver who is dead and tried to help bring others with her to end their suffering. to them at this point with everything they knew so rotted away and pointless to keep up when a new ecosystem is taking hold in the abandoned world. they have no reason to hold ties to old relationships and bonds that won't matter in the new world that's to come.

besides, maybe being a bit fucked up with media is good for refreshing yourself on what's good and bad. perhaps even allowing you to healthily go through motions of trauma you've had that could be compared to the iterators and reaffirm you made the right choice to get help. who fucking cares as long as the media isn't condoning it and labeling it as "normal and healthy". not everyone heals by always consuming media that's aligned with their struggles and reality. sometimes they heal by ripping that bandage off and cleaning it the fuck up by looking at it to see how to clean it. (metaphorically speaking.) you let that wound fester and it becomes rot like pebbles with his attempts.

he didnt come clean with others. he should have listened. but they all still cared about him anyway and that's a love that transcends labels. its unconditional. regardless of what they did to each other. regardless of what they all suffered. they had each other. even if they could not show it in the healthiest of ways. even when so far apart. at least moon and pebbles were so close. pebbles even chose to die the most painful ways as an iterator to right his wrongs. isnt his twisted rage and care so admirable? that he tried to break the cycle for them all, fucked up, and did the most he could to fix it when it all came to do or die? he gave up everything to at least say he is sorry in the way he could. moon should have been furious and she was but she didnt lash out. she understood completely despite not knowing how to tell him. same with suns. same with significant. and i bet that goes for sliver too. they all love each other unconditionally in some manner. even if their ruined and decayed lives slowly being swallowed up for the new civilizations...

media that doesnt touch on dark or potentially taboo topics just don't hit the same. if you want to have reality really hit you in the face and realise you've made the right choices to become better than before no matter what, then dark stories will do that for you. no matter how cute. no matter how stylized. your heart and mind changes in that moment, even if by a little.

keep media literacy alive in rain world <3 (and thank you mods)

.

[senashenta]

Counting Scars

Title: Counting Scars

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex. Just. All the sex.

Summary: Three years after their first meetup in a motel in Amarillo, Texas, Dean and Cas are used to traveling to meet up with each other every couple of months or so. This time it’s in Raleigh, North Carolina, where they spend (most of) a weekend locked up together in a (not so) cheap hotel, making up for lost time and reaffirming their love for one another once more… until Dean’s DAD stops by unexpectedly to pound on the door and drag him away for a JOB, anyway.

Notes: Okay so the Horror High series was originally supposed to just be four fics: Horror High (10 chapters), Cheap Motel (one-shot), Counting Scars (one-shot) and then Storm Season (which is going to be X-number of chapters long, but I’m hoping around 10 the same as Horror High.)

But somewhere along the way other one-shots, Cerulean Blue, Everything I Do, and Falling Stars, just kind of… cropped up in-between Horror High and Storm Season. So, then the series was up to SEVEN fics. UNTIL. More one-shots appeared that take place AFTER Storm Season. SEVEN of them. And now the series is up to FOURTEEN fics, two of which have multiple chapters, and I have DUG MY OWN GRAVE, here! And all for a series with an EXTREMELY small following, so I’m pretty much writing it all for myself! :D;;

ANYWAY.

Top!Dean and Bottom!Cas the same as the rest of this series. If that’s not your jam, feel free to back out now. I just happen to like them that way. Also, gratuitous smut abounds!

On a personal note, I’m having a really rough go of it right now and my writing is pretty much all I have at the moment. Destiel, Lambden, Geraskier, Hijack and Valdemar are getting me through some tough times. Comments and likes help cheer me up, if you’ve got the time and inclination. (If not, thank you for reading, anyway.)

HORROR HIGH et al TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

COUNTING SCARS By Senashenta

[Days Inn, 3201 Wake Forest Road, room 16. Love you.]

Cas was rather stumped by this one because the hotel he was looking at simply wasn’t… shitty enough. Usually the Winchesters picked the cheapest, weirdest, most run-down motels they could find to fly under the radar, and while this hotel wasn’t five-star by any means, it certainly wasn’t run-down. It was nicely kept. It was clean. It was two stories. It had a pool (albeit one that was closed for the season.) Cas was frankly confused as hell, after three years of these little meetups.

But he was at the right address, according to his phone, and Cas had spent the last twelve hours on a bus from Tallahassee, Florida to Raleigh, North Carolina to meet up with his boyfriend-slash-lover, so finally he just headed into the hotel and asked for directions to room sixteen from the friendly and polite woman manning the front desk. Once he was pointed in the right direction, he headed off, and when he reached room sixteen, he only hesitated slightly before knocking.

There was scuffling from the other side of the door and then Cas could hear it being unlatched. Dean yanked the door open to grin at him hugely, then grabbed at the front of his trench coat and pulled him inside, closing and locking the door again behind them.

Cas hefted his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it on the ground, looking around the—nice—room with complete bafflement. “What’s with the…?” He gestured to the whole room, the plush bed with soft, comfortable linens, the fancy furniture—the balcony—with obvious confusion.

“Oh. I—ah.” Dean glanced around, then shrugged with one shoulder and rubbed at his hair almost awkwardly. “I just thought it’d be nice, for a change. Don’t you think? And the cost doesn’t really matter, I mean, it’s all on fake credit cards anyway. So.”

Cas watched Dean shift on his feet, still bordering on awkward—and finally smiled, just soft and fond. “You didn’t have to do this for me, you know.” He said quietly, even as he eased closer and ducked in to give Dean a kiss. “I’m happy just as long as we’re together. But this is… it’s nice. Thank you for thinking of me, Dean.”

Dean relaxed on his words and tilted his head to return the kiss. “I’m always thinking of you.” He told Cas with a smile, bumping their heads together lightly. “You’re almost always on my mind.”

Three years of being a couple and most of that time having to meet up in random places around the country, in cheap motels, to eke out time together over too-short weekends while spending the rest of their lives apart—it hadn’t dulled their relationship one bit. Cas and Dean were perhaps closer than ever, emotionally speaking, if not in geographical terms, and that always stood out glaringly when they did manage to get together.

Now, with Dean being twenty-one years old (Cas was still twenty and would turn twenty-one in four months) they were still solidly a couple, neither of them planning on going anywhere any time soon. Neither of them could really even imagine life without the other, even with the occasionally troublesome manner of their relationship.

Certainly, it would have been nice if they could have had a “normal” life together. Dated the “right way”, maybe even shared an apartment. But Dean was still a Hunter—would always be a Hunter—and Cas simply… wasn’t. He couldn’t go on the road with Dean even if he wanted to, and Dean’s dad wouldn’t allow it anyway. Besides which, Cas was midway through his post-secondary education at Florida State University, so he couldn’t exactly be touring around the country. He would have to drop out of school. School that his father was paying for.

As it was Cas was taking days off from school (and his part-time job) every two or three months to meet up with Dean like this. It was easy, in university. No one called truant on you, as long as you kept your grades up—which Cas did, of course. Though his first-year roommate from when he’d been living in the dorms, Alfie, had asked him where he kept disappearing to on more than one occasion.

When they couldn’t meet up, they texted, and called, and video chatted. Cas and Dean were in nearly constant communication, except when Dean was on a Hunt—then he turned his phone off, for obvious reasons. It was the times when he tried to call and it went straight to voicemail that Cas found himself worrying, even though Dean assured him that he was fine. He was always fine.

Now, Dean reached to take his hand and tugged Cas through the room and over to the balcony, pulling the door open and nudging him outside. Dean followed him out and leaned against the balcony railing with a smile. “It’s only the second floor, but we get a view of the garden, which I guess is nice? If you’re into that sort of thing. What do you think?”

Cas stepped up next to him and rested his hands on the railing, looking around, taking in the view. “It is nice.” He confirmed with a smile, and then, again, “thank you for this. I mean, I’m… happy. To see you in any cheap motel in this country. But this is special. Something different.”

“For our anniversary.” Dean said softly, a little smile on his face when Cas blinked at him. “I bet you didn’t think I’d remember stuff like that. But a month ago was the anniversary of our first date.”

“When we went to Maggie’s for dinner and then made love when we got back to my place later. And I mean made love, not just sex.” Cas laughed quietly; his expression fond at the memory. “My first real date ever and I absolutely let you go all the way. Does that make me easy?”

“Oh, the easiest.” Dean agreed with a grin.

Cas laughed again, a blatantly happy sound, and bumped sideways into him gently. “You love me anyway.”

“I love you because of it.” Dean corrected, teasing.

Cas rolled his eyes and swatted at Dean’s arm, then pushed away from the balcony and turned to go back inside, Dean following along behind him. Once he was back in the room he hung his coat on the rack by the door—there were, for some reason, two jackets already hanging there—and then wandered over to climb into the absurdly comfortable bed. He waved for Dean to join him.

Dean crawled into the bed with him, and after a moment of adjusting the two of them settled with Dean on his back, one arm tucked around Cas, who was cuddled into his side warmly, one of his own arms flung across Dean’s chest, his hand toying with the front of Dean’s t-shirt absently.

“So, how are Sam and your Dad?” Cas asked once they were comfortable, “Did your Dad freak out again when you said you were coming here?”

“He always freaks out.” Dean sighed, his hand rubbing at Cas’s shoulder gently. “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan.”

“He doesn’t even know me.” Cas grumbled.

“I know.” Dean squeezed his shoulder and sighed, pulling him even closer.

Cas shifted against him and buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck with a huff. It bothered him, that Dean’s dad didn’t like him just on principle alone. When people were together, loved each other, like he and Dean did, then wasn’t it natural to want the other person’s family to approve of you? Then again, from the sound of it, John Winchester didn’t approve of much.

At least Sam liked him, that much was true. Cas had always had a good relationship with Dean’s younger brother, ever since they had met. And while Sam was getting stubborn and (more) opinionated now that he was seventeen, rebelling against his dad and just generally getting in trouble, Cas still had a high opinion of him. He thought he always would.

Pressing a kiss against the side of Dean’s neck, Cas finally just changed the subject completely and asked, “why are there two jackets by the door?”

“There are three. One of them is your ridiculous trench coat.”

“Smartass.”

“Better than being a dumbass.” Dean grinned up at the ceiling, then told him; “my old jean jacket from high school is on its last legs. Dad gave me his old leather one, it’s still in good shape, but…” He trailed off slightly and glanced down at Cas, “that patch you got for me is still on my old one, and I was hoping you could swap it over to the leather one, while you’re here…?” Then a pause and he added, “Dad’ll be pissed I defaced his jacket, but whatever.”

Cas made a soft sound in his throat and glanced up at Dean in surprise. “You want to keep the patch?”

“Of course.” Dean gave him a gentle hug. “It keeps me safe.”

Cas was quiet and still for a moment because—that was the first thing he had ever given his boyfriend, besides peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Something to protect him. And even years later, Dean apparently still treasured it. It was a wonderous thing. After a brief pause to consider that, Cas shifted against Dean’s side, shuffling so that he was half-laying overtop of the other man, and leaning down for a kiss. “I love you, Dean.”

“Mm.” A hum against his lips and Dean angled his head to deepen the kiss; “I love you, too. More than anything.”

As often happened between them, one kiss led to more, which lead to Cas pushing Dean’s shirt up, urging him to take it off, and Dean doing the same with him. They both eased back long enough to strip out of them before coming together again, making out like it was the end of days.

Soon enough they were taking their pants off, too, as well as their boxers, pressing together, completely nude and loving the feel of their bodies against each other in the soft sheets. When Cas mumbled something about lube, Dean extracted himself from the younger man and the bed long enough to go to his duffle bag and dig it out. Of course, Cas had brought some, too, just in case—he always did—but Dean never forgot.

Cas took the brief time Dean was gone to settle on his back and slide a hand down to palm at his own cock, then closed his hand around it and started stroking, head falling back and breath starting to come faster. When Dean turned around, lube in hand, to that sight, he cursed softly and just watched for a moment before swallowing and heading back over, climbing back into the bed.

Prep was easy now, with so much practice behind them, and Dean knew exactly what he was doing, working his fingers into Cas carefully but deeply, stroking against his sweet spot as much as possible just to watch him jerk and hear him moan. He would never get over that.

They had long ago stopped using condoms; after the first accidental slip-up it had seemed pointless, and they were in an exclusive relationship. They trusted each other, so it was fine. Besides, Cas privately liked the idea of Dean coming inside him—though he had yet to express that out loud.

Now, Dean pulled his fingers away, sliding his slicked-up hand up Cas’s thigh, leaving a streak of lube in its wake—but before he could push Cas’s legs father apart and settle between them, Cas sat up, grabbed at him and pushed him onto his back, then climbed on top of him and—oh. Okay. This definitely worked, too.

Cas straddled Dean’s hips, reaching down to fist his boyfriend’s cock and give it a couple of strokes before holding it steady, lining up and sinking himself down over it, taking Dean deeply into his body. And then he sat there for a long moment, just breathing heavily, his hands braced against Dean’s abdomen, kneading there restlessly as he adjusted. Dean’s own hands came up to grab at Cas’s thighs, gripping there tightly.

Surprisingly, when he did finally start to move, Cas rocked his hips slowly, deeply, in a warm rhythm—usually when they fucked like this it was hard, fast and rough. This time Cas drew it out, rolling his hips sensually, all slow-building heat and delicious friction. This was new, different—but not at all unwelcome. Making love in an entirely surprising way.

Dean released one of Cas’s thighs and reached up to thread his fingers into the other man’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss—then another, and another—before Cas broke off to bury his face in Dean’s shoulder, still rolling his hips, panting softly.

Usually, their lovemaking was over almost too quickly, but this time seemed to last forever, long and drawn-out and delightfully kinetic, Dean’s hands roaming Cas’s sides and back and Cas working them both to their peak while panting into his shoulder, still, until Dean began carefully thrusting up to meet his movements, at which point Cas pushed himself up again, throwing his head back with a gasp. “Dean…!”

“Shit, Cas…!” Dean panted out a curse, hands dragging to hold by Cas’s knees while Cas’s rhythm sped up—and he brought one of his own hands up to grasp at his own cock, beginning to jerk off along with everything else. Dean just cursed again, watching him under half-lidded eyes, licking his lips at the sight. “So fucking hot…!”

Cas whined at that, just a token protest, but didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop stroking at his himself, until a long few moments later when he tensed up abruptly, and came with a sharp cry, spilling sticky come over Dean’s abdomen. Even though he was done, though, he continued to move, rolling his hips down against Dean’s until the older man reached his own climax and came with a muffled groan of his own, deep inside Cas’s body.

Only then did Cas climb off Dean, then ease down to start licking at the streaks of come that speckled Dean’s abdomen, cleaning them away with his tongue. Dean bit back another moaned curse at the sight, and when Cas was done, licking his lips absently, he drew him up the bed and tucked him into his side.

“You’ve never done that before…”

“Seems rude to leave it and make a mess of such nice blankets.”

Dean chuckled and rubbed a hand along Cas’s side warmly. “That’s very considerate of you.”

“I try.” Cas yawned slightly and nuzzled down into Dean’s shoulder with a quiet pleased noise, “did I ever tell you… I actually prefer no condoms?”

“No.” Dean sounded surprised. “Why?”

“Mmm… because I like you coming inside me.” And it struck Dean that Cas must have been tired—from the bus trip there, from the sex, from a combination of things—because he wouldn’t just say something like that, normally. Now, Cas continued softly, his voice almost a mumble, “feels like you’re marking me, somehow. Claiming me. I like when you claim me.”

Dean adjusted his arm around Cas a little, tugging the blankets up around them with the other one. “You’re mine and I’m yours. We don’t share each other.” He reminded Cas quietly, tone amused.

But Cas was already drifting off and didn’t even realize he was falling asleep until he woke up some time later.

-- --

When he did wake up, Cas breathed out a long, contented sigh. His head was still resting on Dean’s shoulder, his arm across Dean’s ribs, and Dean’s arm around his waist. Neither of them had moved, so Dean must have fallen asleep, too. Cas hummed to himself and let his hand slide along Dean’s skin gently. The older man didn’t even twitch—he was clearly still sleeping.

Fingers light, touch soft, Cas began petting along Dean’s chest and abdomen, pausing every time he reached a scar, mapping them, keeping a mental tally in his head as he trailed his fingertips along them gently. Nine. He counted nine scars on the front of Dean’s torso alone—and that was if you counted the two little parallel jorogumo ones as one. If not then it was ten, and that was…

Cas understood Dean’s job. The importance of it. And he was so proud of his boyfriend for doing it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t hate it a little bit, too. Every time they met up and Dean was carrying more scars, something in Cas’s gut twisted up. He hated seeing the evidence of all the times Dean had been hurt, even if some of them were now a long time in the past.

Now his fingers touched gently across a newer scar by Dean’s ribs; it was still raised and pink, obviously fresh, and he sighed softly, wishing there was something he could do. Some way he would wipe the slate clean, get rid of all the awful marks for good, like magic. Dean didn’t deserve to carry around all these reminders of pain.

“…what are you doing?” Dean’s voice came out thick with sleep and he finally shifted slightly under Cas’s touch, stretching and then ducking to drop a kiss against the younger man’s hair.

Cas smiled a little and smoothed his hand against Dean’s ribs. “Counting scars.” He replied simply, without any more explanation than that.

“Naturally.” Dean chuckled, still settled back in the warm blankets on the comfortable bed in their surprisingly nice hotel room. “Mm… do you remember what you were saying, before you fell asleep?”

“No… what was I saying?”

Another soft laugh. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. You know what I was thinking?”

“What were you thinking?” Cas looked up at him.

“The downside to this place? People might actually bitch to the management about the amount of noise we make while we’re having sex.”

A soft laugh and Cas leaned up for a kiss. “So, let them complain to management. We’re not doing anything wrong.” Then he settled again, his hand going back to tracing abstractly against Dean’s chest, like usual, and he said, “so, I looked up Raleigh while I was on the bus here. Have you ever been here before?”

“Yeah. Rugaru case a couple years back. Didn’t get to do much sightseeing, obviously.”

Well, yeah, okay, that made sense. Cas tapped his fingers against Dean’s chest with a soft hum. “Well, they’ve got the Natural History Museum,” He said, “and the Museum of Art, and the Arboretum. And—and I can practically hear you yawning already, stop that. I know those aren’t really your things. But they also have a huge farmer’s market, which I know is also not your thing, but I was hoping we could stop in tomorrow, if that’s okay with you? It’s got vendors from all over and it’s supposed to be great…”

Dean chuckled softly and told him, “Cas, if you wanted, I would go to all those things with you, even if I was yawning the whole time. Besides, the Natural History Museum would have dinosaurs and stuff, right? That could potentially be cool. It’s the kind of thing Sammy used to always want to drag me to.” Then a pause and he added, “and we can absolutely go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. A new date to commemorate our first date back in high school.”

A smile at that. Dean really did remember even the little things. It was still amazing sometimes. Cas tipped his head to press a kiss by the older man’s clavicle. “I’ll try to get that patch swapped over tonight, if you ever let me out of this bed.”

“Mmm…” Dean made a considering sound before tightening his arm around Cas’s waist. “We have all weekend to get that patch done, and this is a very nice bed, especially with you in it.” He joked, but then paused before asking, “do you actually still carry needles and stuff around with you?”

“Mmhm,” Cas agreed, “needles, thread and a seam ripper in my backpack at all times, you never know when they might come in handy.”

“Unbelievable.” Dean grinned down at him. “Did you know I adore you?”

“It may have come up from time to time.” Cas laughed, and lifted his head again, leaning up for a kiss. “I adore you, too, you know.”

“Happy anniversary.”

“Yeah. Happy anniversary.”

-- --

Some time later found them tangled up in bed (again), still stripped to their skin and Dean working Cas over as diligently and with as much attention to detail as he would give to any job on the road—absolutely focused on the younger man, who was arching and gasping under him while he kissed, nipped and licked his way down his body.

Cas had one particularly sensitive spot just under his navel that Dean liked to exploit every chance he got, and now was no exception. He nipped there lightly just to hear Cas gasp, then began sucking sharply, pulling up a little, purple bruise, all the while Cas made little “ah, ah” sounds and squirmed, his hands buried in Dean’s hair and his erection more than evident.

Dean laved his tongue over the pretty new bruise before ducking down to suck the head of Cas’s cock into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over it firmly. Cas moaned and tugged at his hair—and they had talked about the hair-pulling before, on multiple occasions, but the other man just couldn’t seem to help himself. Not when they were doing this, anyway.

So, Dean just ignored it for now and eased deeper onto Cas’s cock, sucking down the swollen shaft heatedly and with a pleased-sounding hum in the back of his throat because—he liked doing this for Cas. Sucking him off. He liked the taste and feel of Cas’s cock in his mouth—and especially liked the sounds the other man made while he did it. And if you had asked him, a few years ago, if sucking dick would be one of his favorite things to do? You probably would have gotten punched. But now? Now it was a completely different story.

“Ah… a-ah, Dean…!” Cas had his head back and his eyes squeezed closed, as if watching Dean go down on him would tip him over the edge immediately. Dean’s own eyes flicked upward, and he smirked around the cock in his mouth, just easing deeper, then starting to bob his head in easy motions, and sloppy.

Another few moments of that, of him giving Cas an unhurried blowjob and Cas squirming under him, and Dean pulled off his dick with a soft wet noise, huffing and licking his lips. Green eyes scanned up and down Cas’s body—Cas was sprawled out, obviously loose-limbed and pliant, breathing hard and a little, pinched expression on his face, somewhere between pleasure and pain—perfect—and Dean grinned before stretching to grab the lube from the bedside table.

“You ready for me, Cas?”

“…always.” Cas managed, his expression shifting into a little quirk of a smile and eased his legs father apart to make the next part easier for his boyfriend.

Dean settled himself half-propped between Cas’s raised knees and slicked up the fingers of his right hand, then capped the lube and dropped the tube off to the side to be retrieved later. For now, he focused on easing the first finger into Cas’s body, pushing deep and crooking it slightly to rub against the other man’s prostate. He could feel when he found it—but also knew because Cas gave a jerk and a moan.

And Cas took this part so well, so sweetly, always had, even the first time when he had been a total virgin and neither of them had known what they were doing with stretching him out. He had been patient, even then, when Dean had been tentative and fumbling with his fingers—nothing compared to the way he was now.

The second finger made Cas gasp out another moan, one of his hands down and pulling at the blankets now while the other one had returned to fisting in Dean’s hair, fingers tangled tightly in the soft strands. Two fingers was usually where they spent the most time, Dean toying with his sweet spot and drawing out the agonizing pleasure until Cas thought he might cry—until he was panting out sobs, sometimes.

Because Dean loved nothing more than to watch Cas completely unravel in front of his eyes, come entirely undone, fall apart like a marionette with its strings cut. Cas was beautiful in the throes of pleasure (he was always beautiful, but still) and Dean could never get enough of him that way (or any way, he supposed.)

The third finger was almost cursory, just to make sure that Cas was stretched out enough for his cock, though they had attempted going with just two in the past and Cas had admitted the added stretch and burn of the following penetration hadn’t exactly been a turn-off. Dean had filed that under Duly Noted for future reference.

Now, he just continued stretching Cas out for another endless couple of minutes, until the younger man was pulling at his hair (again with the hair-pulling) and breathlessly begging him to fuck him. And Cas rarely used that exact word, so when he did, Dean paid attention. He pulled his fingers back and wiped them on the sheets absentmindedly, then sat back on his heels and considered, licking his lips before patting against Cas’s hip gently.

“Roll over, Cas. Get up on your hands and knees.”

“Wh—” Cas began, but then just changed his mind, obviously figuring it out, and swallowed thickly, then carefully turned himself over onto his stomach—and lifted up onto his hands and knees. He swallowed again, glancing over his shoulder at Dean to ask, “is this okay?”

Dean just nodded mutely because it was more than just ‘okay’, already lifting up onto his own knees and lining himself up to push his own throbbing cock into Cas’s slick body.

They had fucked like this before, over the years, but only a handful of times, so it was still very new and different—and it would be fucking, there was no making love in this position. Cas’s face was flushed a dark red and his back was bowed slightly, his hands fisted in the blankets—and he just adjusted himself when Dean pushed into him, sliding his legs farther apart and moaning deep in his chest.

Dean took just a moment, his hands petting softly at Cas’s hips, to let him adjust, and then he started to move, a few slow, shallow thrusts at first but quickly picking up the pace until he was fucking into Cas hard and deep, their hips slamming together every time he buried himself to the hilt in the younger man.

Cas started out trying to keep his moans somewhat muffled, biting on his lip, eyes closed and head hanging, entire body jostling and jerking while Dean pounded into him, but soon he found himself panting out gasps and moans that just got louder the more time passed, until he was next thing to shouting, voice cracking, going hoarse around the edges with each cry.

Eventually, Cas’s arms, already shaky, gave out on him, and he half-collapsed forward into the pillows with a shout, hips still in the air but now at least able to muffle himself into the covers while Dean continued fucking him totally and thoroughly, the other man’s hands grasping hard at his waist now.

Cas scrabbled for purchase in the bedding, finding none, and eventually ended up grabbing at the headboard of the bed, his entire body jostling up and down along with Dean’s thrusts. His other hand, meanwhile, slid down between his own legs to start stroking at his own cock, slick and spilling precome in slippery blurts across the sheets under him.

There was nothing but animalistic want and need, here, and both of them were more than fine with that, at least for the moment. Dean continued thrusting into Cas hard, almost roughly, one hand coming up to shove his hair back out of his face before returning to Cas’s hip—until finally his climax edged up on him, and he backed off a bit, waiting for Cas’s telltale cry. He didn’t want to come before his lover, leave him hanging.

Dean didn’t have to wait long. Cas kept jerking at his own cock until he fell over the edge a short time later, coming over his own fist with a wrecked wail—and then Dean started thrusting harder again, working himself to the peak and over, swallowing a too-loud shout when he finally came hard and deep inside the other man.

Chest heaving, Cas waited for Dean to pull out of him, then carefully eased down onto his stomach. Dean shuffled around to lay next to him, settling on his side facing Cas and letting one hand drift down his back, gentleness in harsh contrast with what has just transpired between them.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized after a few minutes of them catching their breath, “that was…”

“A lot.” Cas mumbled, still face-first in the pillow. He finally turned his head to look at Dean—and just smiled, a little lopsided. “We don’t do that very often.”

“Because I’m afraid of hurting you.” Dean admitted, hand resting at the small of Cas’s back now. It moved when Cas began to shift, rolling onto his side to face Dean properly. “The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, you know that, Cas.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, “but I can handle some rough sex once in a while.”

“Cas…”

Cas sighed and lifted a hand to stroke along Dean’s cheek, his touch soft and reassuring. “Dean, it isn’t like you treated me like one of the monsters you Hunt. You just fucked me. Really thoroughly. You didn’t hurt me. I liked it, you liked it. So don’t feel bad. We can even do it again some time, just...”

“Just?”

“Just… notice. A little bit of notice, if possible. This time kind of came out of nowhere.”

Dean finally flashed a grin, “it did for me, too. Sorry.”

“If I’m walking with a limp later, I’m blaming it on you.”

“I accept full responsibility if I broke your ass, Cas.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but leaned in for a kiss, warm and affectionate. When they parted, he asked, “you think I could raid the minibar? I need a drink.” And then, to clarify; “a non-alcoholic drink. A ten-dollar bottle of water or something.”

“Oh,” Dean waved a hand in the direction of the minibar in question, “I already broke into the thing before you even got here. Have at.”

All Cas could do was laugh.

-- --

Later that night, in-between bouts of having sex—or making love, as the case may be—Cas sat down (on his miraculously unbroken ass) and removed the embroidered pentagram patch from Dean’s old jean jacket, which was very obviously on its last legs. The patch itself was worn, too, but mostly just faded with age. It was still recognizable for what it was. Cas sewed it onto the shoulder of the leather jacket with practiced hands and was done in no time, smiling to himself as he handed the jacket over to Dean to be inspected.

Dean seemed pleased, if the kisses he received as payment were any indication.

The rest of the night was spent just enjoying each other’s company, watching a shitty movie on the television and calling out for pizza to be delivered for dinner at nearly ten o’clock at night. They ate it sitting on the disheveled bed with the box between them, laughing and talking the entire time.

Even though they talked almost every day, it seemed like they never ran out of things to say to one another, and that was one of the astonishing things about Dean. Or maybe not so astonishing, considering his life. He had a treasure trove of wild stories that, to anyone else, would just seem like tall tales, signs of a healthy imagination—but Cas knew better. He had lived one of those tall tales. He knew all too well that they were real.

And Dean never seemed to tire hearing about Cas’s own, mundane life. His classes at university, his friendship with Alfie, his job at the Gas-n-Sip, what he did in his spare time, what he talked about with Charlie, Jody, Garth, Jo or Kevin when he video called them (especially Charlie.) He was as fascinated by Cas’s ordinary life as Cas was by his extraordinary one. Cas supposed it was true, the grass was always greener on the other side.

Once they were finished eating and had raided the minibar again for (expensive) drinks, they settled in for the evening, just spending the rest of their time quietly—making love once more, just warmly this time, sensually, heat and passion and closeness before completion, before turning in for the night just before one in the morning—actually pretty early, for them.

When they woke up the next morning it was just before eleven and they were in a sea of plush blankets and pillows—and it was snowing, just lightly, outside the balcony window. Cas cuddled closer against Dean’s side, his head resting against the older man’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, and quietly watched the stray flakes falling for just a few minutes as he tried to commit that exact moment to memory.

Dean, meanwhile, had one hand up, his fingers stroking through Cas’s hair and making him hum out a contented noise. “It’s gonna be chilly out today. You sure your trench coat will be warm enough?”

Cas made a soft positive sound in his throat and let his eyes close over, enjoying the fingers through his hair. “It’s actually very warm.”

“Who knew?” Dean chuckled, ducking in to drop a kiss by his forehead and then settling back again. “I wish we could just stay here forever, Cas. Just the two of us, in this room, in this bed, for the rest of eternity.” He sighed softly, “I love meeting up with you like this—I live for it—but saying goodbye after just a weekend together is always…”

“It’s hard.” Cas agreed. “I don’t like it, either. But… that’s how it has to be. I think we’re lucky your Dad even lets you come meet me at all.”

“Only because I don’t ask permission.” Dean told him with a tiny quirk of his lips, “I don’t give him a choice. I just tell him I’m leaving, and I go. I don’t even tell him where to until you’re long gone again, just in case, though he’d good at tracking people, he could probably find me if he really wanted to. He yells every time, though. About how I’m being disobedient and insubordinate and all kinds of other words they taught him in the Marines.”

“Your Dad was a Marine?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably explains a lot.”

Dean laughed and allowed, “yeah, probably.”

They continued their soft conversation for a while, just cuddled up in bed together, before finally deciding that if they wanted to go to the farmer’s market, they had to get up at some point that day. So, they climbed out of bed and showered, cleaned up and got ready to go out, Cas pulling on his trench coat and Dean is newly-pentagramed leather jacket, before they disappeared out the door, leaving a “do not disturb” sign on the handle on their way out.

Cas’s phone once again came to the rescue in getting them directions to the farmer’s market and they arrived just after one o’clock. The market was huge, with at least a hundred different booths and vendors, and Cas perked up considerably at the sight.

“I go to the farmer’s market in Tallahassee sometimes,” He told Dean, reaching to take his hand as they began perusing the market, “but it’s nowhere near the size of this one. There’s one stall, though, this old Polish woman and her daughter run it? And they sell the best pastries and tarts…”

Dean smiled as he listened to Cas talk. He was already privately making plans to go to the Natural History Museum next, even though they hadn’t really discussed it. It probably wouldn’t be entirely up Dean’s alley, just like the farmer’s market wasn’t, but it would make Cas happy and that was the importa—wait, that booth had pies.

Thoughts derailed for the moment, he tugged at Cas’s hand, heading over to the booth in question, a long table that was absolutely laden with pies of all sorts. Rustic, homemade pies. Dean paused there for a long moment and then glanced at Cas, who was looking all sorts of amused.

“It’s your money.” Cas told him fondly.

Okay, but how was he supposed to pass this up? And they had a mini fridge back at the hotel. Dean kept hold of Cas’s hand, tugging him along as he wandered down the table, looking at the various kinds of pies they had before finally releasing his boyfriend and digging out his wallet. “How much for the strawberry-rhubarb with the streusel?”

“Fifteen, hon.” The woman behind the booth answered cheerfully.

And damn, that was an expensive pie, but he was going to buy it anyway. He fished out a twenty and handed it over, retrieved his change, stuffed everything back in his pocket, then watched the woman bag the pie up for him, taking it with a smile and a thanks when she handed it over the table to him.

Cas was standing a couple of feet away with a little smile on his face as he watched the entire transaction. When Dean moved away from the pie booth, he reached to take hold of the older man’s free hand again. Dean just asked, “are all farmer’s markets so expensive?”

Cas just shrugged. “Generally, yeah. But you get what you pay for. I guarantee it’s a really good pie.” Then another smile and he added, “you found something for yourself at the farmer’s market after all.”

As for Cas, he bought a couple of apples from one of the other booths and found a hand-knit sweater at another that he seriously considered buying for his father but decided against in the end—because he’d come into town with only his backpack, so bringing home bulky souvenirs could be problematic. The apples went into one of his trench coat pockets for now.

They just continued on down the first row of vendors and tables until they got to the end of the row where—

“Hey, kid.”

Cas blinked and glanced sideways when someone called to him, then almost opened his mouth to protest because he was twenty, damnit. Instead, he stopped walking and in turn tugged Dean to a stop as well.

The woman who had called him was seated at a smaller table. It had a dark purple tablecloth and a literal crystal ball sitting in the middle of it. To the side was a deck of tarot cards. The woman herself was maybe a little older than them, wearing a long skirt and wrapped up in a shawl against the chilly weather.

Cas regarded her curiously for a moment before asking, “yes?”

She shifted in her seat, gaze roving up and down Cas before flitting up above his head and then back down to his face. She said, “I can see your halo.”

Beside Cas, Dean snorted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You two. You’re going to go through some very hard times.” She continued, and Cas frowned because was this her way of trying to drum up business? It wasn’t working very well. “Do you believe in soul mates? Because you two are strongly connected, and always will be, but… I see a lot of turmoil in your future. Things that may break you.” She hugged her shawl tighter around herself and offered them a vague smile, “you can get through it if you stick together, no matter what.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Dean tugged at Cas’s hand, “c’mon, let’s get out of here, Cas.”

Cas just continued staring at the woman. Finally, he asked, “how long?” And then, to clarify, “how long do I get with him, before it’s over?”

She shook her head. “It’s hard to say, considering all the variables. What you are. Could be a few years. Could be an eternity. It’s really up to you two.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, let’s go.”

But Cas tugged his hand free and dug out his wallet, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and depositing it on the woman’s table. “Thank you.” He said politely, before returning his wallet to his pocket and taking Dean’s hand again, allowing himself to be tugged away. Once they were far enough off, he squeezed Dean’s hand and asked, “you’ve never run into psychics, in all the Hunting and everything?”

“We have,” Dean grumbled, obviously annoyed, “but real psychics are one in a billion, and they don’t hock their wares at farmer’s markets, of all places. She was just screwing with us. And you gave her money for it.”

Cas was quiet for a long moment before adjusting his hold on Dean’s hand, threading their fingers together, and saying softly, “I don’t think she was just screwing with us. And she never asked for a dime, I gave her that money of my own free will. I think she was just trying to help.”

There was silence from Dean for a while as they continued walking the loop of vendors, not really paying attention to them anymore. Finally, he just blew out a frustrated breath and said, “I guess I just… didn’t like what she had to say. Is all.”

“Neither did I, really.” Cas admitted, tugging Dean to a stop again and easing close, leaning up to kiss him gently. “But we’ll be okay. We’re always okay, right?”

Dean finally smiled a little. “Right.” Then he bumped his forehead against Cas’s and asked, “you wanna drop this pie off at the hotel room and then go to the Natural History Museum?”

The younger man brightened at that, perking, and nodded. “I would love that, Dean.”

Dean’s smile brightened as well, and he angled for another kiss. “Alright, let’s go then.”

-- --

The Natural History Museum was surprisingly fun for both Cas and Dean, who turned out to have a bit of a secret thing for dinosaurs. While they wandered the prehistory section, he kept telling Cas which ones he thought he could take in a fight, which just made Cas laugh on more than one occasion. They had a good time. Cas bought a fossil shark tooth from the gift shop before they left, just because he liked it.

On the long walk back to their hotel they held hands and ignored the occasional dirty look they got from passers by. North Carolina apparently attempted to foster safety and equity amongst all of its citizens. Still, clearly not everyone was getting the message. But it was like that anywhere you went, really.

Over the last few years, Cas had travelled all over the country to meet up with Dean and not everywhere had necessarily been welcoming to them. Some places they’d had to stick strictly to their motel room and order food in, just in case—mostly because Cas was worried about someone starting a fight and Dean finishing it. It had happened in the past.

In Raleigh, the dirty looks were few-and-far-between, and no one seemed inclined to start anything, so they both felt safe enough to be out together and affectionate in public. Even if that got them accosted by strange psychics at farmer’s markets.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

Cas blinked out of his thoughts and glanced sideways at Dean. He hummed for a moment before shrugging. “We did my fun things today already. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

Dean grinned and leaned over to kiss him. “You.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. That was kind of a given. “I think we can arrange that. Maybe even a couple of times.”

Dean laughed and bumped his forehead into Cas’s temple before returning to walking normally again. “Some day I’m going to tell Sam exactly how much time we spend in bed together on these weekends, just to see the face he makes.”

“Don’t you dare.” Cas swatted at him with his free hand, “your poor brother.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“Do you ever wonder, you know, about the amount of sex we have when we’re together?”

“I think it’s just because we’re apart so much. If we were living together, I think it would be different.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” Cas glanced down, watching his feet as they walked. “I think being apart creates this… vacuum, almost. Between us. We’re just trying to fill that void. Make up for lost time.” He smiled a little, “make new memories to last until the next time we can be together.”

Dean’s hand tightened in his slightly. “Memories of you get me through some tough times, you know that?”

Cas looked up again to give Dean a smile. “Same here.”

Dean paused, then, tugging Cas to a stop and pulling him into a hug. “Don’t ever change, Cas. Just… always be like this. Always be mine.”

“I can’t promise I’ll never change. Change is part of the human condition, I think.” Cas hugged back gently when Dean sighed at that, “but I can promise to always be yours. I don’t ever want to be anyone else’s, not ever. And it’s been that way ever since we met, I think.” Easing back a little, he smiled at Dean softly, “I think that fortune teller at the market was right, at least about one thing. She asked if we believed in soul mates, and I… I think I do. And mine is right here, standing in front of me.”

Green eyes blinked at him in surprise—and then Dean was ducking in for another kiss, this time warm and wanting. Cas allowed it, kissing back in kind until they both broke away for air—and he leaned up to drop a kiss against Dean’s forehead.

“Let’s get back home, Dean.” Or, the hotel, anyway. “I want you to make love to me again.”

Dean’s reply was a muttered but enthusiastic affirmative and to take his hand again, threading their fingers together as they headed off down the street once more, this time walking at a little quicker pace.

-- --

Cas was straddling Dean’s hips again, but this time they were defiling the little two-seat sofa that came with the hotel room. Cas thought it pulled out into a second bed, but that was a moot point considering the two of them were sharing the actual bed, anyway. Regardless, now Dean was seated on it with Cas in his lap, Dean’s legs up and his feet braced against the coffee table—both to help hold Cas in place and, also, because this was that delicious position that rubbed Dean’s cock against Cas’s prostate constantly, made Cas absolutely lose his shit.

They both liked this position but for radically different reasons. Cas because of the frankly mind-blowing pleasure it provided, and Dean because watching Cas come completely undone the way he did got him off like no one’s business.

“This is not making love.” Cas commented almost idly, already breathing a touch hard from the foreplay alone. He angled his hips to rub his cock hotly along Dean’s and bit back a curse at the feeling. “Ah…!”

Dean rocked his hips upward lightly in response, then cast a glance toward the clothing scattered in a trail between them and the door. “I think ‘making love’ was out of the picture the second we got in here and you jumped me, Cas.”

“I did—not!” Another rock of Dean’s hips and Cas’s voice went high and tight. He swallowed hard and reached down to grasp at Dean’s cock, giving it a few loose strokes just to make his boyfriend groan. “I just—ah—helped you out of your jacket, that’s all.”

“Mmhm,” Dean’s head fell back, and he licked his lips, “and then my shoes, and my shirt, and my jeans, and my boxers…”

To be fair, it had definitely been a two-way street. They had hit the room and gotten the door closed and locked behind them—and then been all over each other what seemed like a breath later. There was no real way to tell who had instigated it, or who had taken whose clothes off, there was just the fact that now they were naked, Cas needed to be stretched out, and the lube was across the room on the nightstand.

There was kind of a collective pause when the two of them realized that last part, and it was followed by Dean cursing. Loudly. Then whining out a pathetic noise when Cas proceeded to climb out of his lap to retrieve the tube of lubricant. It was kind of important, after all.

When he returned, Cas just climbed back into Dean’s lap, straddling him again, and handed him the lube before whetting his lips and leaning forward into Dean’s chest, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and closing his eyes.

They had never tried the whole stretching thing from this position before, and while Dean coated his fingers with slick with complete false confidence, Cas just breathed unsteadily against his boyfriend’s neck, entirely unsure how this was going to go. He was hoping well, all things considered.

When Dean reached down over Cas’s back and began carefully touching along the younger man’s entrance, Cas actually twitched slightly. Dean backed off immediately—and Cas chuckled against his neck, murmuring a reassurance that everything was fine: they had done this countless times before without hurting him, this time wouldn’t hurt him either.

Dean muttered a quiet agreement and went back to what he had been doing, carefully pushing one finger into Cas—then two—and eventually three. It was a process made more difficult by the angle he was working at, but the result was the same: Cas writhing and panting against him, arching and pushing down into his hand until the younger man finally, urgently, patted one hand against Dean’s shoulder and gasped out, “I’m ready… let me have you, ah… Dean…!”

“Cas…” Dean eased his hand away, sliding it up Cas’s back hotly and tugging him up to pull him into a kiss. “You know I’m yours…”

Cas whined out a pathetic-sounding agreeing noise against Dean’s lips, then kissed him again even as he eased back a bit, adjusting himself in Dean’s lap and sliding one hand down to grip the other man’s cock, holding it steady so he could line up and sink down over him—taking Dean into himself fully and deeply, with a long, low moan.

Then he just paused, back arched slightly and hands holding against Dean, one at his shoulder and the other at his chest. He panted softly, head falling back—and when he gave a little, tentative test rock of his hips he had to swallow a curse because the swollen head of Dean’s cock was pressing directly into his sweet spot.

But that was the thing with this position, it rubbed Dean’s cock all over his prostate the entire time they were fucking. It felt incredible but was so overstimulating it was almost too much to bear. It left Cas absolutely wrecked by the end. Not that any of that was a complaint… it was just a lot.

“Shit, ah…” Dean’s hands came down to rest against Cas’s hips and he rocked upward, just lightly, barely, but still drawing a soft whimper from Cas’s throat. “Cas… come on, move…”

Cas nodded mutely, biting on his lower lip, and braced himself against Dean’s shoulder and chest before starting to rock his hips, first slowly, almost hesitantly while he got used to the constant pressure on his sweet spot—then harder, deeper once he started to really get going.

He propped his knees against the couch on either side of Dean, with Dean’s knees up and holding him in position, and fucked himself deeply and thoroughly on his boyfriend’s cock, eyes closed and very quickly losing himself to the feeling of Dean against him, inside him, the pleasure that was absolutely pounding through him.

Dean just leaned back and watched the show with completely blown pupils, Cas rolling his hips and rocking overtop of him, the younger man’s fingers digging into his skin as he moved, head back and mouth working, breathless gasps and soft curses and oaths; things Cas only said when he really got lost in their lovemaking—or fucking, as the case may be.

Cas, meanwhile, was completely lost in the moment, in the push-and-pull of Dean’s cock in him, jamming against his prostate every time he rocked downward. And God did he love Dean’s cock. Had since the first time they’d slept together—even before then, when he had jerked his boyfriend off under the bleachers at school. Now Cas just focused on the feeling of Dean inside him, hands kneading against Dean’s skin as he worked himself harder on the other man’s dick.

When Dean moved one hand away from Cas’s hip, down to wrap around his weeping cock, and started to stroke, the end was pretty much nigh. Cas gave a little, breathless cry and rocked his hips downward, firmly, a handful more times—before coming with a panted wail.

Then he collapsed forward against Dean, gasping for air against his boyfriend’s shoulder, and continued rocking his hips, little whimpers in the back of his throat when Dean’s erection bumped against his battered prostate, totally overstimulated now. He didn’t stop, though, not until Dean finally locked up and came with a guttural moan of his own. Cas’s hips slowed to stillness, then, and he slumped against Dean, entirely boneless.

“Shit, Cas…” Dean had his head leaned back against the back of the couch and his hands rubbed soothing little circles at Cas’s hips, then drifted down his thighs warmly. “Did I mention I love it when you ride me?”

“Mmph.” Came Cas’s oh-so-articulate reply. He had his face tucked against Dean’s neck and his arms mostly limp at his sides. Dean was still inside him, gone soft now, and while normally that bothered him a little, this time he didn’t even care. “Feels too good… when we do it like this. So good it hurts.”

Dean smiled a little, hands rubbing up and down Cas’s thighs gently. “’S why we don’t do it more often.” He admitted, “I know you can’t handle too much of it.”

“Feels fucking amazing…” Cas murmured, almost a protest. He smiled slightly and brought his hands up, pushing off of Dean’s chest to sit properly again. “It’s just…” He ran a hand through his hair, “a lot. That’s all.” Then he shifted, wiggling his hips just to see Dean’s reaction—and stifled a grin when his boyfriend groaned and gave him a look. Cas chuckled and eased off, lifting up and off Dean’s limp dick and then dropping down to sit beside him. “Next time don’t complain when I want you out of me ‘too soon’ after, then.”

“You can be a real jerk sometimes.”

“You love me, though.” Cas leaned into Dean’s side and Dean wrapped an arm around him, already lowering his feet to the floor.

The older man came back with: “yeah well, you love me, too, so we’re even.”

“Mm.” Cas hummed a happy noise, entirely too pleased with himself, wanting nothing more than to make this moment last forever. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s midsection and squeezed, a gentle hug. “You’ve got me there.”

They stayed there on the couch for a while, just sitting together and enjoying their post-coital bliss. Dean used his fingers to tidy up the come that was smeared across his abdomen, licking them clean afterward. Cas watched raptly as he did so, then leaned his head back down when Dean was done, closing his eyes with a sigh. Dean leaned his own head sideways to rest against Cas’s lightly.

A few minutes later they were both about to fall asleep and Dean forced himself to move instead, getting up and pulling Cas with him. Cas made a soft protesting noise, and Dean herded him over to the bed where they tumbled into the soft pillows and blankets, tangling up together in a mess of exhausted limbs, the moonlight streaming through the balcony window now.

They were both asleep in seconds.

-- --

When Cas woke up the next morning it was to the too-early rays of the sun, an empty bed, and the sound of Dean’s hushed voice from the other side of the room. Sighing to himself, Cas rolled onto his back and flung one arm up over his eyes to block the light as he listened quietly to what was obviously Dean’s side of a cell phone call.

He could hear Dean pacing back and forth restlessly as he spoke: “I can’t, I’m not available and you know it! …yes, I have priorities, they just aren’t the same as yours, Dad!”

And oh. No wonder Dean sounded so agitated. Cas lowered his arm away from his face and looked sideways, watching Dean pace. Finally, he turned onto his side to face the other end of the room and sighed again. This probably wasn’t going to be good. Arguments between Dean and his dad never were.

“I take four days every three months, I am trying, here, and you just won’t give an inch, it’s—no! Being with him makes me a better person, makes me stronger, I don’t get why you can’t see that!” Dean ran his free hand through his hair, frustrated, then; “damnit, Dad! I said no! Two more days and I’m yours again, okay?! I—Dad, stop, I’m not going to—”

Then a pause and he lowered his phone and looked down at it before turning around and pitching it at the couch. He followed that up by bracing his arms against the wall and leaning heavily against it, head hanging down.

Cas immediately climbed out of the bed and crossed the room quietly, stepping up behind Dean and sliding his arms around Dean’s waist from behind. Dean made a soft surprised sound and dropped one arm down to rest his hand against Cas’s where they were clasped over his abdomen.

Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s back between his shoulders. “I’m sorry about your Dad.” He said softly.

“You heard all that, huh?”

“Some of it.”

“He wants me to bail on you early for a job.”

“Ah.”

“I said I wouldn’t do it, and now he’s royally pissed at me. I think it just… cements in him the idea that you’re not good for me.” Dean sighed and squeezed his hand around Cas’s, then carefully straightened up and turned around in Cas’s hold to wrap his arms around his boyfriend as well. “Did you know you’re a bad influence?”

“I’ve heard, yes.” Cas gave him a soft smile. “Your Dad will get over it. He always has before, right?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean agreed—and then dropped his forehead down onto Cas’s shoulder with a despairing moan. “He’s so pissed, Cas.”

Cas brought one hand up to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair, gentle and reassuring. “I do understand, you know, to a certain extent.” He said softly, “your Dad has been through so much, the whole thing with your Mom and… I know if anyone did anything to you, I’d be out for revenge, too. I wouldn’t stop. So, I get it, your Dad’s… obsession. With the demon, and the job. With teaching you and Sam, and keeping you guys close and safe.”

They had been together long enough, were close enough, that they knew pretty much everything about each other. Dean had told Cas about his mom’s death, the circumstances behind it, and his dad’s reaction to it, long ago. He had told Cas everything about his family—everything he knew, anyway, and Cas had done the same, though he didn’t have the kinds of secrets the Winchesters had.

“I know he doesn’t like me, and I know he’s never even met me and that seems unfair, even to me, sometimes, but…” Cas continued threading his fingers through Dean’s hair and tipped his head to press a gentle kiss by the older man’s temple. “He just wants to protect you and Sam, and in his view I’m a threat to that. I’m a distraction. I knock you off your game. Or at least that’s how he sees it, probably.” It did hurt, that Dean’s dad would never know him—never like him, but… “he’s just trying to keep you safe, right?”

“I know that.” Dean’s voice came out muffled against Cas’s shoulder, until he straightened up again. “Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though.”

“He probably won’t ever understand what we have,” Cas told Dean with a little smile, “so just… cut him some slack. He doesn’t get it, but he does care.” Then a pause and he asked quietly, “are you alright?”

“I will be.” Dean offered a little, vague smile and just pulled Cas into a tighter hug. “You always know what to say.”

Cas leaned in for a kiss, then started backing up toward the bed, tugging Dean along with him, until they both crawled onto the mattress and buried themselves in the covers, Cas tucking up into Dean’s side under the blankets. Outside, it wasn’t snowing like it had been the day before, but it was still chilly. Cas looked off out the window, his fingers toying with Dean’s pendant absently.

“No matter what your Dad ever says to you, just remember I’ll always love you, okay?” When Dean’s hand came up and the other man began playing with a few strands of his hair gently, Cas smiled and cuddled closer. “Always, Dean. There’s never going to be anyone else for me. You’ve spoiled me for other people.”

“That’s a lot to say of your very first relationship,” Dean commented, sounding amused, “that I ruined you for anyone else.” Then he paused before adding softly, “except I can say the same thing of you. I’ve told you before, you’re it for me, Cas. I don’t ever want anybody else.”

“Mmm.” Cas hummed out a pleased noise. “Then we’re in agreement on that point.”

The two of them fell silent then, just warm and comfortable together in their (for once) nice hotel room. Today was the last day, though, Cas had to catch his bus back to Tallahassee the next morning. And they didn’t have anything planned, after everything they had done the day before…

So they simply stayed in for the day, spent most of it in bed being intimate in one matter or another—whether it was having sex or cuddling up together or just talking and laughing together about nothing in particular—but also watched some more shitty television, and of course ordered room service because there was no point in staying at a decent hotel if they didn’t order room service at least once.

Dean had been completely keyed up after his conversation with his dad, but slowly over the hours they whittled away together he unwound, relaxing into the comfort and security of their relationship—of Cas.

When they fell asleep that night, it was after making love again—properly, deeply, with passion and feeling—and knowing that their time together was almost over. For the next few months, anyway. They held on to each other in sleep, almost as if to keep from being separated when the sun came back up.

-- --

At just after three in the morning, Cas and Dean were woken by a sudden and violent pounding on the door to their room.

Dean was up and out of bed in an instant, yanking on his boxers and hurrying to his duffle bag, going for his gun. Cas followed after him, scrambling out of bed and pulling on his own boxers, but then hung back while Dean went and positioned himself to the side of the door, up against the wall. He motioned for Cas to get down and Cas immediately followed the silent command.

More pounding. Dean cocked his pistol and called out, “who’s out there?!”

And another voice shouted back, “DEAN, YOU OPEN THIS GODDAMNED DOOR RIGHT NOW!”

Dean jolted slightly, then relaxed his grip on his gun and lowered it to his side. He waved for Cas to get up again, then, frowning the entire time, reluctantly unlatched the door and pulled it open. Dean was pushed to the side by the man who stormed into the room, and just made a frustrated noise before closing the door and locking it behind him.

“What are you doing here, Dad?!”

And ah, that explained… Cas shifted on his feet and forced himself not to take the instinctive step back that he really rather wanted to. Dean’s eyes were darting between his dad and Cas—but they finally settled on his dad when the older man set a harsh glare on him and snapped, “I told you I needed you and you refused to leave, so I came to get you! And here I catch you with your pants down! Literally!”

Dean made an annoyed face and held up the gun he was holding. “If it’d been anyone but you or Sammy they’d’ve been full of holes right now!”

“A gun won’t stop a demon, Dean.” John growled.

“I am fully aware of that fact!” Dean snapped, and stalked back over to tuck his gun away again before crossing to where Cas was standing and reaching to squeeze his hand lightly. “You okay?” He asked softly, almost under his breath.

Cas nodded—but that had just drawn John’s attention to him, and now he was pinned under the older man’s glare. He tightened his hold on Dean’s hand without even meaning to. “Um. Hi. I’m… Castiel. It’s nice to meet you… I think?”

John glared daggers at him, then turned his glare on Dean, who just glared right back. He continued holding Cas’s hand, defiant. “I’m not leaving until after Cas’s bus leaves tomorrow, Dad. I always see him off and this time isn’t going to be any different.”

“You’re ruined. This kid has ruined you. You’re a Hunter, Dean! You know better than this!”

Dean bristled at that. “Cas hasn’t ruined anything, he’s made my life worthwhile, Goddamnit!”

“Being a Hunter makes your life worthwhile!”

“I can be more than just a Hunter, Dad, I can have a life, I can—”

“Are you coming with me or not, Dean?!”

“I already said no, and I meant it! I don’t ask for much, but these weekends are important to me!”

Cas’s lips quirked into a little smile at that—and he tugged at Dean’s hand, turning to face him and pulling him into a brief kiss. “Hey,” He whispered, bumping their foreheads together gently, “remember what I said. He’s just worried about you, deep down. You shouldn’t completely ruin things with your Dad for me, especially since my bus is leaving in about… seven hours. Seven hours isn’t worth your whole relationship with your Dad, Dean.”

Dean hesitated and frowned. Across the room John was grumbling. “Are you sure?” Dean asked finally, “it’s seven hours, Cas.”

“Seven hours won’t kill either of us, just this once.” Cas assured him softly. “Just go.”

Dean hesitated a bit longer, but finally pulled Cas into a proper kiss, then let him go and stepped away, stooping to start picking up his clothes. “I’ll be ten minutes. Meet you in the car.”

John turned and unlocked the door, pulled it open—then paused and glanced back at Cas, a long, surveying look (Cas privately wished he was wearing more clothes in that particular moment) before ducking out into the corridor and slamming the door closed behind himself.

Dean was halfway to being dressed, already in his jeans and just pulling his shirt over his head. Once it was on and his dad was gone from the room, though, he returned his attention to Cas, moving back over to wrap his arms around the younger man and pull him close. “Are you sure about this?”

A soft, amused smile, and Cas nodded. “I’m sure. We can make up for it next time. Just go with your Dad on this Hunt and prove to him that I’m not quite the terrible influence he thinks I am.”

“I can’t believe he actually tracked me down and came here,” Dean grumbled, leaning his forehead down on Cas’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have been subjected to that.”

“He has a temper,” Cas admitted with a laugh, then patted at Dean’s side and repeated, “just go, Dean.”

More grumbling from Dean, but he did lift his head up and go for one more kiss before easing away and turning to start shoving his things into his duffle bag. ‘Packing’, as it were. “You should get some more sleep, Cas. Enjoy the bed a little longer. The room’s already paid for. Sorry I won’t be walking you to the bus.”

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile. “You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand.”

Once he was done tossing everything into his bag, Dean shrugged into his jacket and pulled his boots on, then picked up the duffle and moved toward the door—only to stop at the last second and hurry back across the room to lean down and kiss Cas again, hard and deep. “Call me when you get back home, okay?”

“Only if you call me when the Hunt is done so I know you’re alright.” Cas countered with a laugh. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean pouted but scooted out the door anyway, leaving Cas to lock it behind him.

Cas stood by the door and looked around the room for a long couple of moments, trying to ignore the depression that was edging in on him already—and the anxiety that was gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like to think too much about when Dean went out on Hunts.

Finally, he went over and crawled back into the now-empty bed, flopping on his side with a heaved sigh.

He was just settling in when his phone pinged with a text message. First just once, but that one ping was followed by a whole series of them in quick succession. Cas blinked and leaned up, reaching to the bedside table and pulling it over to read the new messages:

[I love you.]

[I miss you already.]

[Dad wants to know if I’m texting you.]

[Should I tell him?]

[I’m gonna tell him hang on.]

[Oh God he’s totally losing his shit.]

[His impression of you still isn’t great I guess.]

[I’ve got to go before he MURDERS me.]

[MURDERS.]

[Seriously I love you.]

[Talk to you after this Hunt is over.]

Cas laughed to himself, shaking his head, then typed out a quick reply:

[I love you, too. Take care of your Dad. Be safe.]

Then he set his alarm and put his phone aside, wrapping himself up in the blankets and doing his best to go back to sleep. In the end he was less successful than he would have liked to have been—but at least the bed was comfortable, and the blankets still smelled distinctly of Dean.

It was when he was packing up to leave the next morning that he remembered the pie, previously (miraculously) forgotten in the mini fridge. They had been so distracted by each other that neither of them had even had a single piece.

THE END

[lokiwhitewolf]

Red Hot Winter- Chapter 16

Trigger warning- Blood sharing, vampire torture, the Mikaelsons being a dysfunctional family

Chapter 16- "Midnight Hours"

It didn't take long for the last harvest girl to make contact with the Mikaelsons. Two weeks after Francesca had died, Klaus, Caroline, Elijah, and Elena had failed in their efforts to locate her, even though Klaus wanted to force Davina to find her to which Elena strongly opposed, they got an invitation in the mail.

While the four of them were having breakfast, Caroline gave the envelope to Klaus.

"You are cordially invited to a night of the harvest feast, tonight at 9 pm." Klaus read.

"Harvest feast, Niklaus?" Asked Elijah, his hand tightening on Elena's waist.

"It could be just a coincidence, brother." Said Klaus.

"What do you mean?" Asked Elena.

"This time of the year, when we were still human it was our village's tradition to celebrate the Harvest Feast or Skördefest. It was to celebrate the successful harvest of the year while we prepared for the months we wouldn't be able to rip anything from the land." Explained Elijah.

"Wait, so what are we thinking?" Asked Caroline. "Most of the harvest girls are dead, you two killed two of them."

"It's not the witches' ceremony love." Replied Klaus, holding her hand. "We don't think the final harvest girl came back, we think our mother came back inside her body."

"How is that even possible?" Asked Elena.

"She was consecrated on New Orleans grounds, and besides, Mother always has a few tricks up her sleeve." Replied Klaus.

"You're not going Elena. Last time Mother was in your presence, she talked you into a spell to kill all of us, and I can't let her do anything against you again." Said Elijah.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her, I'm coming with you." Said Elena, in a tone that left no space for argument.

"I'm not staying either. You said I'm queen, and a queen doesn't leave her king behind." Said Caroline, crossing her arms and looking at Klaus, who smirked at her.

Later that night, Elena was finishing getting ready to leave when Elijah showed up behind her. He was almost ready as well.

"You're afraid." She said, turning around. He stopped butting up his shirt, bringing her close to his body.

"I'm not afraid. I'm concerned. It's different."

"What's concerning you?" She asked, putting her arms around his neck.

"When Esther saw what vampirism did to me and my siblings, she wanted to destroy us. That's why she made our father a vampire hunter, and Alaric Saltzman a vampire hunter as well. I'm afraid Mother will see how happy and in love we are and try to destroy what we have."

"Remember what Bonnie said? No witch can break our bond." She moved her face to whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to make it even stronger before we leave."

Leaning her head back, she scratched her neck with her nail drawing some blood, watching his face transform. She'd never get tired of this sight. His eyes turned black, the veins popped up and his fangs came down, and he bit into her neck.

It doesn't matter how many times they've done this, neither one of them would ever get over the fact of how euphoric it made them feel. Her blood seemed like it was just made for him, just the right flavor. He was addicted to it. Not taking it anymore, Elena bit into his shoulder, ruining his shirt and quenching her thirst for his blood. This was more than just making sure Esther wouldn't break their bond, this was a reaffirmation that no one ever could. Elena clutched into Elijah's back, his blood being the best drink she'd ever had. Their life force mixed together, as it is always supposed to be.

Elena and Elijah stopped drinking and looked at each other, smiling. Elijah held her face and kissed her. As their lips locked, they both had an intense rush of pleasure pouring through their veins, as if they were alive once again. Suddenly, a bond more powerful than anything before began to form. It was as if their souls were connected and intertwined together, and nothing in the world could stop them. They embraced again, this time exchanging each other's blood with every caress. This exchange felt like the purest and most passionate form of love conceivable, and soon they were both overcome with emotion, Elena had no choice but to accept the intense feelings of love and devotion that Elijah was displaying. After a few moments, the intensity of the kiss had not worn. They then shared what seemed like the longest and most passionate kiss ever and soon after they did a rush of excitement and love overcame them both, and they knew that this was a real love, a love that was unbreakable and worth treasuring forever.

When they separated, satisfied, they knew Esther wouldn't be able to do anything against them. Or at least, that was their hope.

Klaus, on the other hand, was not taking any chances.

"You need me to do what?" Asked Bonnie inside his office. Caroline was beside him.

"I need you to do a spell to protect Caroline and one that links me and Elijah," Klaus replied.

"Putting a spell to protect Caroline I get it, but why would you want to link yourself to your brother?" Bonnie said.

"Well, let's just say that the last time me, Elijah, and a doppelganger were together during a harvest festival, it didn't turn out so well for Elijah later. That was the night our mother decided who to ask for blood to perform the vampirism spell, as you all know, Tatia was the one who gave her the blood."

"What does this have to do with Elijah though?" Asked Caroline.

"Love, you can ask me for anything in the world and I'll give it to you, but I can't answer that. Not even I know all the details, but… it took my brother decades to crawl out from what my mother did to him."

"Okay. But what about Elena? Doesn't she need protection too?" Asked Bonnie.

"My brother would die before letting anything happen to her. And besides, I'm pretty sure the blood sharing they've just done will not allow Esther to do much." Replied Klaus.

Bonnie went to work, grabbing one of Caroline's hands and putting over a golden bowl. She cut through the vampire's palm, letting a few blood drops fall, and reciting the incantation. Caroline's blood turned to fire, and what appeared to be a golden halo enveloped the young vampire, quickly fading away.

"You're protected." Said Bonnie, smiling. "Now, for you." She said, turning to the hybrid. "I'm gonna need your blood and your brothers as well, and I'm also gonna need you to write your name and your brother's name in runes. They don't teach runes anymore."

"No problem Bon-bon." Said Klaus, writing down his name 'Niklaus' (ᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᚢᛊ) and 'Elijah' (ᛖᛚᛁᛃᚨᚺ), and then biting his own wrist, letting the blood fall onto the sheet. Bonnie started to recite another incantation, watching the blood fall onto Klaus's name and then to Elijah, linking both of the originals.

After thanking the witch, who left to continue teaching Davina, even though she didn't like the fact that the young witch made a new witch friend called Kaleb, who had been showing up to their meetings all the time, Caroline turned to Klaus.

"You want to protect your brother." She said.

"Yes, my love." He said, looking at her. "While my father has done unspeakable things to me throughout the centuries, I'm afraid my mother has done something far worse to Elijah." His tone in the last sentence left no room for question.

"Why do you call Mikael your father? He was not your biological father." Looking at his feet, he said:

"He has done damage only a father could make. Sometimes I wonder if I'm gonna do the same things to Hope." Tears fell from his eyes.

"You're not," Caroline reassured him, wiping his tears by kissing his face. "You know how I know?" He looked at her, while she held his face between her hands. "You're doing everything in your power to make this place a safer home for her. You've been doing right by her even before she was born. You love her, and you have forever to spend with her."

Klaus gently kissed her. She was truly his queen.

The ride to Esther's house was fast, but what they dreaded was inside. The four of them got into Esther's house and were greeted by Vincent. Both Elijah and Klaus had a deadly grip on Elena and Caroline's waist, ready to attack if they had to. They were led outside by the witch. There was a bonfire in the middle of the yard, a table set for six with various types of Viking food, and by the smell of animal blood in the air, it appeared that Esther had followed the tradition to a T.

"Welcome, welcome." Said Esther, in the body of the fourth and final Harvest girl. "Niklaus, Elijah, so great to have you in my house. But I don't remember inviting a young vampire and a third-generation doppelganger."

"You do anything against them Esther, and I'll rip your heart out." Said Elijah, in a threatening tone.

"That's no way to treat our mother!" Said Vincent.

"Mother? The only one who would say such a thing would be Finn." Said Klaus. "Wasn't it enough to come back from the dead? You had to bring our most annoying sibling along?"

"Niklaus." Said Elijah. "You can't say those things about our brother."

"Can't I?" Defied Klaus.

"You lock me up in a box for 900 years Niklaus. You expect me to thank you?" Said Finn.

"Children, we have visitors." Said Esther, trying to quiet her sons. "Now, let's eat." The six of them sit at the table, Esther and Finn at both ends of the table, with Elijah sitting next to Elena, and Caroline and Klaus seating next to each other facing the couple.

They all started to eat, Elijah serving Elena, with Klaus doing the same to Caroline.

"Now Elena." Said Esther, after a few minutes. "How's your brother? I heard he had become a hunter of the brotherhood of the five."

"Mother, don't." Warned Elijah.

"It's okay, Elijah," Elena said, holding his hand with more strength than she usually did. "My brother was killed by Katherine to wake up Silas."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, dear." Said Esther. "In the matters of the supernatural, is never good when a poor child loses their life." That got Klaus's attention, who looked at her. "One week our beloved Henrik was alive and running through the fields as if nothing mattered, the next he's dead because he and Niklaus went to watch the wolves." Caroline put her hand on Klaus's leg to calm him down, because he was about to snap. "By the way" Esther's turned to Klaus. "How's my little granddaughter doing?"

The silence was deafening. The four of them knew they couldn't deny and say she was dead, though the whole city thought so. If she knew, she had become a more deadlier threat than they had originally thought.

In a matter of seconds, Klaus stood up and held his mother by her neck. Finn stood up, but Elijah was quicker and held him back.

"You and Niklaus, always looking out for each other." Said Finn. "It's almost pathetic how devoted you are to him, Elijah."

"I swore my alliance to him the day you and Kol decided to leave me and Rebekah behind."

"He puts you in a coffin for decades and you still stand by him?"

"I'll never leave my family behind, not even if I have to stand against you brother."

"What do you know about Hope?" Klaus demanded to know, squeezing Esther's neck. "I've killed you once. I can easily do it again"

"I know she is not dead. Do you really think the witches wouldn't feel if a being so powerful like her died? You might have the entire city, the vampires and the wolves convinced she is dead, but the witches know better."

"If you make a move against my daughter, your life will be reduced to a never-ending agony."

"I don't need to make a move against your daughter Klaus… I just need to hit you where you hurt." And with that, Finn started to recite an incantation. The chains that had been used to restrain the animals for the harvest came off the ground, locking themselves on each of Elijah's wrists, and then tying to two branches of two nearby trees. Both Elijah and Klaus screamed in agony. The chains had been soaked in vervain and were piercing against the vampire's skin.

"No!" Screamed Elena, going to him to try and let him go. Finn tried to hold her back but she had transformed into full vampire mode and bit his neck, drinking his blood enough to keep him away. "Elijah!" Elena tried to take the chains out, but even with her strength, she couldn't open them up.

"Don't bother." Said Finn weakly. "You will never be able to open them up"

"Let him go!" Said Klaus, who had let off his mother when the chains had been tied to his brother.

"No." Said Esther. "I'm gonna make your life, and your brother's life as unbearable and agonizing as I can."

"Niklaus…" Said Elijah, debilitated. "Get her out of here."

"No, please Elijah, don't…" Begged Elena.

"She can't break our bond, love." Said Elijah. "I don't want you to stay here and get yourself hurt because of me."

"Elena, let's go." Said Caroline, trying to get her to go.

"I'm not going!" Said Elena, her tears mixing with the blood she had drank.

"Elena, look at me, please." Begged Elijah, having trouble breathing. "I know you'll be back for me. I need you to go, I need to protect you, my lovely Elena. Please."

Elena kissed him one last time as she leaned into him. Tears streaming down her face, she felt like time had stopped as they embraced and all her worries and fears seemed to disappear. She savored this moment, remembering how his lips felt as he did the same.

Each kiss they shared had been like a testimony to their time together, and this last one carried the weight of all the others wrestled with the knowledge of what it meant – she had to leave him. Tears blurred her vision as she stepped away.

If it wasn't for Klaus dragging her away, she'd stay behind, even though Elijah had asked her to leave. Elijah breathed out in relief, watching his brother take his love to safety and finally let the poison of the vervain overtake him.

Back at the compound, Elena was ready to give Klaus a piece of her mind.

"Elena, do you really think I would go to a dinner party with my mother and not have an advantage?" Said Klaus, pouring himself some scotch, while Caroline was trying to calm her down. "Before we left, I asked the Bennett witch to link me and my brother. That way, even if my mother tries to kill him, she can't kill me. I'll heal and so will him."

Elena flew across the room, holding Klaus by his neck, and throwing his cup away.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" She asked.

"Well, you and my brother were too busy sharing your blood. And besides, we're going to rescue him" Elena let go of Klaus.

"And how are we gonna do this?" Asked the brunette.

"Well, mother is in the body of a teenager. Knowledge is not her problem, but she is not as strong on that body, and she wouldn't be able to compete against a Bennett and a Harvest witch together."

Even though she didn't want to bring Davina into this, Elena knew the young witch would do just that. She considered Elena her older sister and would do anything to keep her happy.

"Fine." Said Elena. "Let's do it your way."

Elena got out of Klaus's office and went to her and Elijah's bedroom. She took her clothes off and put on one of Elijah's shirts, being enveloped by his scent. Laying on the bed, she started to cry.

"We're gonna bring you back." She whispered.

Back in Esther's yard, Elijah could've sworn he heard Elena whisper that they’d bring him back. His moment of hopefulness was cut short by Esther driving a stake with vervain on his chest, and he gave himself up to the darkness again.

[what-a-weird-rose]

NobleFlower: The Things I See (Within You)

Pairing: Alice Fortesque / Narcissa Black

Rating: E

Prompt: Praise Kink (if you squint)

Word Count: 1.3k

Narcissa drags the silver comb down long blond hair.

Her vanity sits tall and imposing in her room, casting a long shadow over everything in its wake. Despite its odd look, Narcissa had found herself rather attracted to the strangeness of the feature- perhaps a trait she’d overlooked in her youth. There was something so telling, she thought, about how children behave. Narcissa herself was a prime example of how children mimic their future nature, collecting the strangest, most clashing furniture pieces and rearranging them until they looked pretty together. She supposes she does that even now as she gazes down at the parchment beside her lotion.

If you should have, I will journey to meet you. Echo

She grins, just slightly, as she sets the comb down. Her finger runs along the curve of each letter, the drag of each line.

Narcissa feels her heart leap as she hears a tap from her window.

Once-

Twice-

Three times, she hears the slight tick against the glass. She thinks little of it as she rises from her seat to investigate.

The world beyond the thick walls of Cygnus Black’s house is dark and dreary, and Narcissa wonders how much of the world she’s missed out on from within the fortress.

“Cissa, quit spacing out on me,” Alice whispers. Narcissa gazes around in the dark momentarily before her eyes adjust enough to see the girl below.

Alice wears something distinctly Muggle, though she seems to have remembered her wand this time. She also had a large duffel bag swung over her shoulder that Narcissa was both desperately eager and anxious about.

“Help a girl up, would you?” Alice says, slightly louder than before. Narcissa has found that the more Alice gets away with sneaking into a Black Family fortress, the more she seems to make them getting caught a game. Narcissa huffs, turning around to dig under her bed.

Under her bedframe, Narcissa finds a collection of things she cannot have. She ignores all but the enchanted rope that Andromeda gave her two months prior.

The rope swings out of the window with grace ropes naturally fail to possess. The enchantments are fuzzy -likely due to it having past hands many a time- though a few are quite obvious. For example, the enchanted rope can carry any amount of weight without snapping, which is very useful when pulling a well-built Quidditch player up the side of a wall.

Alice pops her head through the window, giving one final grunt and a snort.

“It would probably help a bit if you provided even the slightest bit of support,” Alice says without heat. She does that often, saying snarky things without the meanness Narcissa is used to.

“I provided a magical rope; what more do you want?”

“The emotional support of my lover, for one,” Alice states matter-of-factly as if the answer was so obvious- so clear- that there was literally no other solution.

“Your lover?” Narcissa coaxes because who is she if not an instigator.

“My lover.” Alice reaffirms, setting the lump of rope on the floor near the now shut window. “My lover who I have travel far and wide to save.”

Narcissa sighs, “I’ve told you already, I’m not leaving- I’m not abandoning them.”

“Its not- you’re not abandoning anyone; you’d be doing what was best for yourself, and if they really loved you, they be able to accept that as it is.”

Narcissa nods, though they both seem aware that she isn’t listening.

“Anyways, I come bearing gifts.” Suddenly, the duffel bag ends up on the seat of Narcissa’s vanity- and she really should mind, but somehow, she finds that she really doesn’t. “Here.” Alice hands her a small box wrapped in the most obnoxious gift paper Narcissa has ever had the misfortune to see.

She carefully peels the wrapping back, ignoring as Alice chuckles and throws herself backward with great familiarity on a bed that is not hers. Eventually, she removes the paper, sets it on her end table to store away, and slowly pulls the lid off the box.

“Alice, no.”

Alice smiles widely even as she remains laid leisurely with her eyes closed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t that much. Plus, I’ve been saving and- Cissa, please, take it.” She gently touches Narcissa’s arm, petting downward until their hands are intertwined.

The box contained a long silver chain with small connected charms of varying shapes, sizes, and colors; a bright golden snitch lay next to a star next to a narcissus. Alice gently tugs the bracelet out of the box and places it on Narcissa’s arm, where it sits momentarily before Narcissa nods. She shivers as the clasp seals.

“Even if its cheesy and inconvient, I want something tangable to show my love for you- and, well, what better than this? Who’s going to thing twice about it?” Narcissa nods slowly, fiddling with the small charm of a dragon.

Then, as though realizing Narcissa was lost in her own mind, Alice presses her lips against Narcissa’s palms.

“I know why you hesitate; I know why you’re afraid. I need you to know that I will always love you- even if one day you decide you hate me and want me dead.”

“I could never,” Narcissa says at last, and she can feel the tension roll off Alice’s back like water. “How could I ever hate you?”

Alice plants a soft kiss on Narcissa’s lips, and suddenly, Narcissa is reminded of why she was willing to commit such a betrayal in the first place.

Narcissa’s hands are lost in Alice’s hair in a second, tugging, pulling, and petting all at once.

Alice groans as Narcissa finds the sensitive spot at the crook of her neck. Alice uses her free hands to guide Narcissa’s hair away from her face.

“Slow,” Alice whispers into the hot room.

In her attack on Alice’s neck, Narcissa kept pace, if not becoming more aggressive.

Alice tugs Narcissa’s long hair, “I said slow, didn’t I, lovely?” Narcissa stares momentarily before mumbling something she doesn’t recognize, “Good girl.”

Narcissa whines, ducking her head to continue at Alice’s neck.

“Oh? Do you like that? Good girl?” Alice questions, rubbing her hands up and down Narcissa’s sides. “Is that what you are? A good girl?” Narcissa continues her attempts to crawl into Alice, as though it might save her from the embarrassment. “Come now; I want to see your pretty face when I tell you you’re a good girl, Cissa.”

Narcissa groans as Alice runs her hands through her long blond hair. Alice shifts them suddenly, landing herself on top of the strange tangle they’d become. Alice is methodical in her marking, leaving hickey after hickey on porcelain pale skin, dragging skin between teeth.

There is a moment as Alice pulls the silk nightgown off her that Narcissa wonders what she’d gotten herself into with this girl.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl, tell me what you need.” Alice whispers in her ear, hand placed just barely off her left tit.

“You, please, give me?” Alice chuckles and finally takes Narcissa’s tit into her mouth, using her free hand to massage the other.

Narcissa moans, wrapping her legs around Alice’s hips.

“Now, now, pretty- don’t get ahead of yourself, I-” There is a thump outside Narcissa’s room.

They look at each other briefly before Alice grasps her wand, aims it at the door, presses her lips on Narcissa’s, and uses her left hand to rub fast, practiced circles into Narcissa’s clothed-clit.

“We’ll have to finish this properly some other time, pretty,” Alice says sagely, fiddling with her wand as her fingers set an even faster pace, “But I’m hardly going to leave you wound up.”

Alice kisses her cunt as Narcissa cums.