#when he took the first excuse offered to stay home with thoughts and prayers

[shrikeseams]

Unilaterally deciding that Eru lost all “illuvatar” rights no later than the drowning of Numenor. If you reaction to the babysitter calling you in a panic ‘cause the kid’s being disobedient is to nuke your children from orbit? I’m calling social services on you. You’ve lost parenting rights.

[dilfspitdrinker]

Hi, I've recently had to have my dog put down. She was 13 years old and my first ever pet, so I'm completely heartbroken.

I was just wondering if I could request a one shot with any Pedro character, where the reader has had her dog put down and he's doing whatever he can to help her?

Thanks

A/N: Hi anon, I’m so sorry for your loss. If it’s any consolation, know how you feel, my dog was also around 13 when she was put down, also a first pet. Thank you for this request, it means a lot to me that I can offer some comfort through writing. Here’s a Joel oneshot, but she’s the real hero. Made with love for you anon <3

Warnings: death of a pet (mentioned/referenced), hurt/comfort, established but undefined relationship, angst/fluff, just Joel trying his best

Rescue

The wallpaper was peeling, and you were staring at it so hard you thought you might be making it worse. Time had become irrelevant– sleeping and waking were the only things you’d done in the past 24 hours. So once again, you shut your eyes and wished for sleep, the same prayer you made every time you woke up.

Yesterday you took your dog to the Jackson vet to have her put down. You had come home and holed yourself up in your room since then, not emerging once.

You laid in bed, facing away from the door with no intention of turning, even as you heard footsteps approach.

Before he even spoke, you knew it was Joel from the sound of him clearing his throat. “Excuse me for lettin’ myself in.”

When you didn’t answer, he went around the bed and kneeled in front of you. You didn’t have the emotional energy to talk, so you pretended to be asleep. But he knew better.

“I heard about your buddy,” he spoke gently, “Came to check on you.”

You opened your eyes, brimming with tears for the hundredth time today. He could see you reliving everything, plain on your face.

She’d made it out of the QZ with you. She’d kept you safe from danger countless times along the journey. With her keen hearing and smell, she had sensed threats like infected and raiders long before you would’ve spotted them, giving you time to hide and escape unharmed. She kept your spirit up, despite having no luck in finding shelter, not even a dilapidated cabin. You were about to start in a different direction, cursing yourself for coming this far west, but she kept getting excited and distracted by something in the distance. You gave her all the credit for finding Jackson.

You followed her lead until the high walls came into view. The sight made your skin prickle, and you started pulling her away when you were surrounded by a group on horseback. You started to panic, positive that they were either going to kill you or abduct you to their compound. You clung to her, begging her to stay close when all she wanted to do was advance toward one of the men who had dismounted. She had always liked Joel. That’s the only reason you had trusted him since the start, unlike most anyone else.

You entered Jackson with your dog, and everything else you cared to call yours fit in the pack slung over your shoulder. Now, you lived in a house of your own, had miles of yarn to make colorful scarves, and your pantry was always full. But still…

“It feels like she was all I had,” you croaked.

Joel brushed your hair away from your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I know darlin’.”

He pulled you upright and into his arms, secure in his embrace. You sniffled into his shoulder, and he let you rest there, feeling the heave of your chest against his. Once your breathing evened out, he asked, “Have you eaten at all?”

You made a noise that indicated no.

“How ‘bout I make you something?”

You were too tired to refuse. You didn’t protest as he lifted you from the bed either, even though you felt like a sullen child in his grasp. But he didn’t think of you like that.

He carried you off to the kitchen and placed you on the counter between the sink and the stove. You stared at the faded flannel stretching over his back while he poked around the pantry, turning over jars and inspecting labels.

“Shoot, you got Chef Boyardee in here,” he mumbled, “How’s that sound?”

You hardly cared, but gave a small nod.

“Mind if I fix some for myself too?”

“Go ahead,” you responded flatly.

Wordlessly, he worked around you, emptying the contents of the can into a pot and heating it up on the stove. While stirring, he eyed your hands sitting limply in your lap. He reached out, fingers hovering over yours. You accepted the invitation, taking his one large hand into both of yours. A very Joel gesture, you thought, to offer what he could without much discussion. He continued watching the food while you turned over his palm. His entire hand was so calloused and scarred, you wondered how many stories you still hadn’t heard. Probably most of them– he wasn’t one for recounting his feats unless it was relevant. Ellie had readily shared what she knew, but you weren’t bold enough to prod the man himself about it.

A few silent minutes later, the food was ready, and he dished it out. He didn’t urge you to the table, just handed you the plate and a fork and stood there at the counter with you. It smelled good, but didn’t awaken any hunger. As Joel started eating, he peered at you from the corner of his eye, willing you to join him. You finally did, with little gusto at first, but the hot meal brought you more pleasure than you thought it would. He periodically stole more glances and was relieved to see the furrow of your brow gradually soften.

He looked around your space, “Kinda chilly in here, I can get the fire goin’ if you want.”

“That would be nice,” you gave a small nod.

He collected your empty plates and put them in the sink, turning on the water. You were about to stop him from doing the dishes, but he put a glass under the tap instead. Once filled, he handed it to you with the instruction, “Drink that.”

You complied, sipping the water while he crossed into the living room and crouched in front of the fireplace.

Joel knew more than his fair share about grief and loss, yet he hardly knew the right way to comfort someone through it. He only had his own experience to draw from, and looking back, he just wished he hadn’t let himself deal with it alone. He knew he couldn’t fix it, the unchangeable couldn’t be anything but felt. But if he could only be a reassuring presence for you, he was ready to provide that.

The fire was crackling softly now. You always found that sound to be comforting.

“You finish that water?”

“Yeah,” you set the empty glass aside.

“Good, now come here,” he beckoned.

You lowered yourself from the counter and followed him to where he now stood by the couch. He opened up a blanket that was thrown over a cushion and wrapped you in it.

He smiled softly at you, a rare and special occurrence in your book. He pulled you down onto the couch and you let yourself fall into his embrace, resting your head on his strong chest. He held you, rubbing your back soothingly. You focused on the sensation, trying your hardest to think of nothing but the present moment. The crackling fire, the weight of the blanket over your shoulders, Joel’s hands roving up and down your back.

“Ellie told me a new one today. How do you organize a space party?”

“How?” you asked into his flannel.

“You planet.”

Despite yourself, you cracked a smile, and at the sight, he mirrored it with one of his own.

“There you go,” he held you a little tighter.

One of his hands came up to your head and raked through your hair.

The smile faded as you sighed, “Did you ever have a dog?”

His voice reverberated warmly in his chest, “I did, a long time ago. He was a rescue, had a tough life before I got him. He bit me one time, before he trusted me,” he hung a hand in front of you, “right there.”

You identified it, a relatively small scar near the side of his palm.

He continued, “He was just scared, protectin’ himself. Once he trusted me, he was a real good boy. My best friend.”

At that, your eyes stung, remembering your best friend.

“Some years after him, I ended up gettin’ another rescue. Her name is Ellie.”

You surprised even yourself with a laugh.

“Surprised she ain’t bit me.”

You both giggled together, and he added quietly, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

After a minute, you breathed out, “Thank you for coming by. I needed someone.”

“Anything for you sweetheart. You kicking me out now? Done with my services?”

You chuckled and nudged his chin with your head, “Of course not.”

He kissed the crown of your head.

Staring into the glow of the fire, you professed, “I miss her more than anything.”

“She’s okay now. You will be too.”

Your eyelids were too heavy to hold open, gently falling shut. You eased into a restful sleep, this time without having to beg for it.

Masterlist

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Ice Queen/Tyrant King AU:

Thena and Gil visit the grave of his mother before the wedding.

An emotional and soft moment between them :)

"I used to come here with Dad and Imo when I was little."

Thena looked at him, curiosity piqued by the first words he'd spoken since getting in the car. She held onto his arm as they walked, his hands in his pockets.

"Dad always used it as an excuse to bitch and moan about shit, especially about how I was the reason she was here in the first place."

Thena frowned, holding onto him just a little bit tighter. She leaned her head against his arm, "hm...I could kill him."

Gil smiled, leaning his head against hers, "nah, it's okay, Sweetness. Success is the only revenge that actually works in this family."

She had asked if this was even a good idea--her coming with him to visit his mother (in a sense of the word). She had worried that it was more of a family affair--even asked his aunt if it would be disrespectful for her to come.

Imo had told her that she was a part of the family, now, so what did that matter? She also told Thena to call her Imo, from now on.

Gil had grinned from ear to ear.

"When did you come here last?" she asked him gently, not letting him sit in silence but not chatting just for the sake of it, either.

"I guess it was with Imo, last time I was home," Gil shrugged beside her as they turned down another walkway. "I come when I can, but I can't really leave business just to visit."

Thena nodded with full understanding; it wasn't safe to, whether his mother was already passed or not.

Gil looked at her with a smile, pulling his hand out of his pocket just to link their fingers together, "I have a lot to tell her this time around."

Thena stopped beside him as they arrived at a particular grave marker and grassy knoll behind it. She bowed with him, offered her prayers and respects with him, in Korean and everything.

"Hey, Ma."

Gil took in a breath. "Sorry it's been a while. It's been a crazy year and some, so I think you'd understand. I got shot!"

"Gilgamesh," Thena scolded beside him. She squeezed his hand, "give your mother a proper explanation."

He smiled; that was his Ice Queen. "So...this is Thena."

"I know I've talked about her before. It was probably as just--oh, we had a meeting today and the Ice Queen is doing well, sort of thing. I was in denial back then, but you probably knew. You would have told me how obvious it was that I was already head over heels for her."

Gil peeked sideways at Thena, who rolled her eyes at what she definitely thought was embellishment on his part. He chuckled.

"You'd love her though, Ma," he continued, smiling at the stone with just a name in Hangul carved into it. He had long become accustomed to speaking with it as if he could picture his mother's face--it was one of the things that pissed his father off the most when they would visit her together.

Imo never minded.

"You'd love her because I do," he raised Thena's hand to his lips, moving his thumb over her ring. "But you'd also love how tough she is. You'd love how she doesn't let anything intimidate her and how smart she is. You'd love that I have her to keep my head on straight over there while I'm doing business."

"You'd love her because she's perfect," Gil whispered, squeezing Thena's hand as he felt his throat tighten. "You'd love how perfect she is for me. She's smooth and calculated, but there's one hell of a heart under that porcelain shell of hers. And I'm lucky that she gave it to me. I...I haven't always been the most careful with it."

Thena finally snuck her eyes over to him, but stayed silent.

"I know, and you and Imo would both kick my ass if you knew the whole story, too," Gil sighed. The look in Thena's eyes when she accused him of lying about loving her; he would never forget it. "But I righted my wrong--I took responsibility, just like you taught me. And you were right; good things come to those who stand for what's right."

"And she's the best damn thing I've ever found," Gil swallowed, blinking a few times. "I'm sure you would just kill Dad if you knew what he had tried to pull with the daughter of that business partner of his. You and Imo always were talking about how he was going to run your hard earned business into the ground. Imo's still got a handle on things, though."

"And hey," Gil sniffed, finding a smile again, "Imo loves her too!"

Thena looked at him again, about to accuse him of exaggerating.

"I've never seen Imo like anyone," Gil chuckled, finally tearing his eyes away from his 'mother' and to the woman beside him. "But I think she took one look at you and knew that you were right for me."

Thena shook her head at him.

"Really," he whispered, looking forward again. "You know how Imo is, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to find out she was in America to see us. But I was shocked when she accepted that I wanted to stay with Thena instead of coming home. I mean, it was basically giving us her blessing. She even told Thena to call her Imo--that she's part of the family!"

Thena smiled.

"Dad doesn't know yet," Gil said in a quieter voice, his face drawing down again. "And he won't. He's never getting anywhere near the woman I love. I think you'd support me in that."

The grave marker didn't have a reply, but he really got the feeling of agreement.

"He doesn't need to be in my life, he doesn't have to know my business," Gil stated more for himself than anyone else, present or not. He squeezed Thena's hand again, "he doesn't have to meet my wife."

"Gil," Thena squeezed his hand back.

He looked up again, some lightness returning again. "We're not married yet. Well, not officially, I guess. Far as I'm concerned, we've been married since the very first time we-"

"Gil!"

"Sorry, Princess," he chuckled, turning and kissing Thena's warm, pink cheek. "But you already know I've been down bad for you since before then."

She chose to roll her eyes at him again instead of dignifying his claim with a response (whether denial or confirmation).

"But yeah," Gil looked at his mother's grave again, "this is the woman I love, Ma. She wanted to meet you--and I wanted her to meet you, too, even if it meant coming over here. Even if Dad knew we were here, even if our enemies knew we were flying over."

He looked at Thena beside him, in a simple white sundress with her hair loose around her shoulders. She wasn't here as the Ice Queen, just Thena: his fiancee and the woman he loved.

"Some things are worth the risk," he concluded, feeling he had told his mother the most crucial parts he wanted to. He had neglected to discuss the poisoning and the shooting and such, but that was business. They were here for a family matter. He looked at Thena again, "anything you wanna add, sweetheart?"

Thena took a long look at the stone before them before stating very plainly, "I love Gilgamesh."

Concise, his Ice Queen.

"I love your son," she elaborated in a whisper-soft tone. "I certainly hadn't expected to. But I'm sure you knew better than anyone that not loving him is...just impossible."

Gil blinked away a few tears again.

"There isn't much I can promise," Thena confessed in a surprising admission of fragility. "Imo may like me, but I doubt anyone else will. And my family...doesn't exist anymore. I don't have much to offer."

Thena very literally controlled the global diamond market--was one of the riches human beings on the planet (off the record). And only she could see that as 'just business' and set it aside from herself enough to think she had nothing to offer in a marriage.

"But I'll love him," she said with conviction, gripping his hand. She was shaking. "I will love him every second of every minute we have. I already do--I love him so much I can't breathe. It rewrote the world I knew and every cell in my body. But against all odds...I suppose I find it worth the risk."

"I know how special you will always be to Gilgamesh. And I promise that I will take care of him. I will stand by him through every decision and every consequence. I was willing to go through with a ceremony here with your family, actually...not that I had mentioned it."

Gil grinned; he already knew that, but still.

"He worries about me meeting his father," Thena peeked over at him before addressing his mother again. "I am not so fragile as to fear someone as cowardly as someone like him."

Gil held in a laugh. His Dad would shit a brick if he knew this woman - a powerful business mogul whom he had never met - had called him a coward to his late wife.

"I would rather face down his father and his whole empire than have to meet Imo for the first time again," Thena let out a breath at just the thought. She smiled, though, "I can see why Gilgamesh turned out to be such a good man. He had such wonderful women raising him, it was never in question."

Gil's eyes watered again.

"So, I suppose I would like to thank you," Thena mumbled, some shyness coming over her. "I don't remember my own mother, but...I promise I will do my best to honour you all the same."

Gil watched Thena clutch at her lace shawl laid in the crooks of her elbows and dangling around her legs.

"Thank you for having me," Thena bowed again before looking at Gil, holding her hair back against a breeze, "are you okay?"

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, "thanks for coming with me, baby."

"Hm," she sufficed to say as they slowly came away from his mother's grave and made their way back to the entrance to the cemetery again. "I did want to meet her."

Gil moved his hand from hers, only to unfold her shawl and pull it over her shoulders so it could drape over her arms, which were only partially covered by billowing linen sleeves attached to her dress. "I don't want you to burn, Ice."

Thena held onto his arm, leaning her head against him again as they made their way back to the car. "It would be worth it."

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Princess and the Miller

A/N: In honor of @monsieurbruhl​ reaching 1,000 followers as well because I can’t stop thinking about her post, I decided to make a Tonda one-shot. It deviates a little from the original post, but I hope you all still like it. BTW I haven’t read the book or seen the movie, but after reading up on it, I am going to go with an alternate version of this world. Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Tonda x Fem!Reader. No use of Y/N.

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluffy Smut, Happy Ending.

You had always been told that when you turned 21, you’d marry a prince. It was a marriage arranged since your infancy, you hadn’t met your betrothed and yet you were in a carriage on your way to his kingdom to marry him. You tried your best to find the best in the situation, tried to get some semblance of an idea of who the man you’d soon call husband, but all you got were very generic answers. He’s speaks several languages, plays many instruments, charming, handsome. But no one told you whether he was kind, generous, or good. Your eyes fell on the greenery whirling past your carriage as you felt your nerves grow.

Silently, you prayed that the prince you’d soon be married to would be kind, that you could learn to love the man and try to have a happy life. Your prayers quickly stopped as suddenly, the carriage had rocked and jumped wildly and then before you knew it, the carriage tipped over and things went black. A pounding in your head was the first thing you clearly knew before your eyes managed to open and focus enough to see the destruction before you. The coachman that was riding with you was trapped beneath the carriage and you could hear the soft whimpering of pain. You stand, though your leg was in great pain, and despite your own weaken state, you tried to help by pushing against the carriage, but to no avail. You looked around and noticed smoke in the sky. Someone lived by, they will help.

Running towards the direction, you press on, despite your own body aching, your head swimming with light headedness, because you had to help. Tired, but you managed to reach a mill, and saw a figure whose back was turned from you. “Excuse me,” your voice low and hoarse. The figure doesn’t hear at first and continues with his work, so you move forward, your body leaning against a pile of wood, which you knock down on accident.

The figure whipped his head around and at first seemed ready to fight but seeing you, blood dripping from your head, your weaken state, made him soften. “Please help,” you manage before passing out.

The next thing you knew, you wake up in a bed, your head bandaged, your leg in a splint and the pain subsided a bit and everything started to slowly come back to you. You try to get up from bed only to be hushed and pushed back gently. “No, don’t get up.”

It’s then do you take a look at your rescuer. He was older than you, can’t be no more than ten years older, but his wavy brown hair which he tied back, to his warm brown eyes and friendly smile made him seem boyish. “The coachman,” you say suddenly, “My carriage had crashed, he needs help,” you say, trying once again to get up.

“Alright,” he says, once again gently, pushing you back down, “I’ll go and see. In which direction did you come from?” You tell him to the best of your knowledge, but your head hurts so much, and you feel as if you want to cry. He offers you a small wooden bowl and brings it to your lips. “Drink. It’ll help with the pain.”

You do as your told, what else did you have to lose? Once he makes sure you drank all of it, he settles you back down and goes to find the carriage. Laying there, you wait and the pain in your head fades, allowing you the chance to wonder what will happen now; will your betrothed start to get worried if you are not there by tomorrow and have a search party sent for you? Will your father when he doesn’t receive word from you? Quite a bit of time goes by before you realize that the man returns, and his face is grave.

“I am sorry miss, but the coachman is dead. He died before I found the carriage.” His brown eyes grow tender with remorse and silently offers sympathy.

You cry, not only because the coachman was a good man you knew growing up, but because you felt completely and utterly alone. How you wished you were home now, wished you never left to be engaged, wished you were with your family now. The man does not say anything to you for a long time, leaves the cottage with a shovel in hand, and you knew what he was going to do. His absence allows you time to grieve, time to accept the situation, and when he returns, he still gives you space, waiting for you to speak first. He tells you he had buried the coachman, but you don’t feel like you could respond without crying, so you remain silent. When you do speak first, it is late in the night before he decides to retire to sleep. 

“What is your name?”

“Tonda.”

“Thank you, Tonda.”

Crying yourself to sleep, you wake and it takes you some time to realize where you are but are quickly comforted by the sight of those same soft brown eyes, sitting by the fire, stirring the pot. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” He gets up to bring you some porridge, gesturing for you to eat. “Where am I?”

“In my mill, just on the outskirts of Schwarzkollm, a small village, simple, but good. Where were you heading off to, maybe I know a way to get there.” You thought to not tell him the whole truth, withhold your being a princess, but looking into his eyes, you feel as if you can utterly trust him with anything. So, you explain that you were on your way to be married, that your betrothed was expecting you any day and must be worried. He took your being a princess well and instead of acting like everyone else who fell to their knees and dare not look at you, he continued to look at you, like you were an actual human being, not a symbol as your father once described you. “I know the kingdom, it’s a half a day’s ride from here. I’ll take you there as soon as I am sure you are feeling better.”

“Oh, thank you, Tonda! Thank you!” You clasp his hands into yours, a gesture of gratefulness, but somehow the touch made your cheeks grow warm. Perhaps it was because you realized that this was the first time you had been alone with a man that was not your father, perhaps it was because of how close both of your bodies were, or perhaps it was the look in Tonda’s eyes that made your stomach flutter like a million butterflies.

Word quickly spread that Tonda had a visitor in his mill, a young and pretty woman at it too, and people came to know the story, though you asked Tonda to not revel your true identity. Tonda was polite and kind enough to try to hold many of them back, certain it would overwhelm you, especially from the trauma you suffered the day before. But a few older women get by, offering food, clothing, and remedies to help you feel better, and you thank them graciously, knowing they mean well. You become grateful to be alone once again with Tonda, so you could have some peace.

He is gentle when he checks your bandages, cleans the wounds, and reapplies fresh wrappings. “You have only a small cut on your forehead, that’ll heal soon, but your ankle looks very bad,” he observes and you have to agree with him, what with it’s dark purple bruises and deep cuts that even grazing it caused great pains. “Stay off it for as long as you can; the longer you stay still, the quicker it’ll heal.”

You stay in bed, applying ointments and herbs that Tonda and the older women bring to you, while Tonda does his chores as well as trying to care for you. Feeling guilty, you offer to do little things to help, such as peel potatoes and mend clothes, little things you didn’t think mattered, but did mean so much to Tonda.

You wondered how you’d pay him back, especially since he was good enough to grab your trunk from the wreck and brought it to the mill. It wasn’t the clothes or the trinkets you cared about, but your books. Your father took great care to have you educated, to read and write, know your math and history. One day, Tonda noticed you reading and asked about it. “Oh it’s one of my favorites, but then again, I am partial to love stories. I’m almost done with it, you can read it after if you like.”

His cheeks grew red. “Oh, that’s kind of you, but-”

“But what?”

He looks down then admits, “I can’t read.”

You look at him surprised, such a capable and bright man stood before you, and he didn’t know how to read! “Well, how about this? As a way to repay you, I can teach you to read and write in the evenings, and whatever else you’d like to learn. What do you say?”

At first, Tonda tried to refuse, saying that there was no need to repay him, but after arguing that it would be good for him when he does business in the village, he at last accepts.  And so went your life for the next month. During the day, Tonda worked on the mill while you tried your best to help in bed, then in the evenings, you taught Tonda how to read and write. He was a quick learner and so proud of himself that you couldn’t help but to be proud as well.

In the time between, you both came to understand each other. Tonda proved to be a kind, gentle soul who loved animals and children, with a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. His father taught him to fight, which you were grateful to hear that he had little cause to use his skills, his mother taught him how to cook, which is why you were always asking for second helpings of his food. He told you how he was orphaned when he was quite young, and had lived on his own since, how while there were times he didn’t mind the peaceful quiet, he struggled with the solitude.

You told him how you understood what he meant, often feeling all alone in the big castle, how your being a middle child and not a boy, your worth was measured in how good of a wife you could one day be. You tell him of your apprehensions of your upcoming marriage, how small and insignificant you feel in this world, especially since there had not been any word on anyone trying to find you.

“No one is insignificant. We all have a reason, a purpose. Even a blade of grass has a purpose, for that blade of grass may very well be shelter to an ant, the nourishment an animal needs to live. You have your purpose, you may not yet know it now, but you will. You’ll mean something great to someone, and they’ll find they can’t live without you.”

Your heart thumps harshly against your chest, the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his voice all touched you so deeply, that you almost forgot to breathe. He turns away from you, looking as if he spoke something he shouldn’t.

The next day, you try to walk. The bruises have gone and the cuts have turned to faint scars, but it is still a little sore. Tonda stands by your side as you attempt to walk and with each attempt, you get further and further. While the sight of you getting better should have been a moment to celebrate, neither of you say the words, but both remember his promise. “I don’t think I am quite healed yet,” you speak before he does, “I think we ought to wait until I am able to walk completely, perhaps another week, just to be sure.” You are grateful when Tonda happily agrees and lets you remain with him.

A week turns to two, and those two turns to four. You learn from him how to work the mill, helping him more and more, going into the village with him, meeting the people properly. You don’t hear the whispers of the villagers, certain that you and Tonda were courting, but it’s perhaps better that you didn’t it would only make things complicated. And still, two months and no word, no sign of either kingdoms looking for you.

Eventually, you dare ask Tonda to take you to your betrothed kingdom. You just have to know what happened, why no one came for you, to let them know you were safe. A flash of pain shoot across his eyes, but being the honorable man he was, he hitched his horse and the two of you rode on. When you did reach the kingdom, you were surprised to see celebrating going on, ribbons everywhere, flower petals falling from the sky, cheers from the crowd.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” Tonda asked a passing villager.

“The prince is married!” said the villager, running off towards the castle.

You and Tonda stare at each other bewildered. Trumpets sound and you see, standing on the balcony is the prince you were to marry, and beside him, your sister, as his bride. The sight is like a stab in the heart, not because you had wanted to marry the prince, but because you knew the truth now. No one came for you because in their eyes, you were dispensable, if not you, another will easily take your place. 

The realization made you break down, sobbing as Tonda took you away, carried you even as you were so overcome with despair. He helps you back on the horse and together, he brings you back to his mill. The entire ride, you are sobbing into his back, holding on to him for dear life, your heart utterly broken. It’s dusk when you return to the mill, and ever the gentleman, Tonda helps you down from the horse and escorts you back in, making a fire when he sees you shiver. “I am so sorry, my princess,” he says at last softly, “They do not deserve you if they think you can be easily replaced like that.”

“I’m just,” you say low and brokenly, as you sit in the closest chair, “Not the blade of grass they needed it seems.”

He quickly kneels before you, taking your hands into his and makes you look into his eyes. “You are more than a blade of grass; you are the sky, the earth and the oceans. You are everything that makes life worth living for, and that prince and your father are fools to not realize that. You mean something great to me, always.”

You stare deep into his soft brown eyes and it hits you. Tonda, the man who rescued you, who cared for you, listened and taught you, you were in love with him. Yes, it was clear now, and the revelation helped to ease the heartbreak. Taking his face into your hands, you reached forward and kissed him. It was gentle at first, beautiful, something you had always read about in the romance stories and it made you both gasp when you parted.

You don’t know who prompted it, you feel as if it was you, but you can't be certain, but what you do know is that Tonda carried you to the bed, clothes stripped from the both of you and for the first time for either for you, you laid down together and carefully learned together these first throes of passion and love. His coarse hands were gentle on your skin, his lips everywhere as if he couldn’t dare part with you, his movements gentle and slow, not wanting to rush this breathtaking moment. He sighs and moans at the feeling of your soft hands running down the planes of his back, combing through his long wavy hair, the soft whimpering of your voice in his ear. 

“I love you,” his speaks desperately, lovingly, hopelessly, “I love you, love you, always.”

Hours later and you stare into the small fire as it slowly diminishes and Tonda curled behind you, sleeping. Today was a whirlwind of emotions, and yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to feel guilty for how it ended. It stung to think your own father didn’t care, that to the world you were dead. In his sleep, Tonda pulled you closer and nuzzled himself closer to you, making you smile.

Well, you think, perhaps it’s better that the world thinks me dead, to earn this second chance to truly live. And live you did with your sweet miller, happily ever after, in fact.

Tagging those who I think would be interested: @monsieurbruhl​, @creme-bruhlee​, @bruehl​, @neonheart1244​, @justfangirlthingies​, @git-it-got-it-good​, @daniel-bruhhl​, @cazzyimagines​ 

[siriuslyblack12]

ok @prettyremus @by-any-other-name @aroaceslytherin i give in, here's the detailed headcanons for the supervillain au!!

so they meet at a party, a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing. no expenses spared with everything fancy and decked out.

sirius only agreed to go to finish up some business with an old partner in crime, get what he was owed, maybe have a drink or two and get right out. he’s never liked these little criminal get-togethers. sirius black works alone.

but then the most miraculous thing happened, two words: remus lupin.

the most handsome, freckled, sandy-haired and golden eyed man caught his eye from across the bar. his fingers drummed on the counter in time to the music that played, and when he made eye contact with sirius he gave a shy smile that made sirius’ knees weak.

so of course he went over and introduced himself (not that it was needed, sirius black, the king of crime), and they hit it off immediately. flirted all night.

that is, until the place was raided by the police, and suddenly there was a whole lot of screaming and running (not the good kind). sirius was taken off-guard, and found himself pinned to the floor by some dirty-looking scumbag, unsure of what to do. he was about to say his prayers and all that boring shit when he heard a clang and suddenly the guy hovering over him dropped to the floor. remus lupin stood behind him with a bat in his hand, stained with blood.

he lifted him up and into his car, speeding away with cop cars chasing him, and sirius swears months later that that was the exact moment he fell in love – though he did a lousy job of showing it. as remus tended to his wounds back at his apartment (“I’m just trying to help” “I don’t need help, I work alone” “ok then, but don’t blame me when you bleed out, asshole”)

that was the beginning of the well-known, long and happy relationship between the two princes of crime.

sirius charms his way into remus’ heart more quickly than remus would admit, but when you’ve got the star of half the city’s nightmares wrapped around your finger, it doesn’t half feel good.

and sirius is wrapped around remus’ finger, by the way, happily so.

their relationship blossoms from there: dates at high-end places, bringing the most extravagant gifts and flower bouquets, shining smiles and happiness. eventually it blossoms into kisses in every nook they can find, going back to one of their penthouse apartments after dates, staying over; sirius waking with remus’ arms wrapped around him and smiling to himself smugly.

he got his mans!

everyone knows not to mess with these two.

one time, as sirius excused himself to the bathroom, one of his henchmen made a snide and rather homophobic comment about not respecting this drama queen – safe to say he left the place calling his grandmother to tell her he loved her after remus was through with him.

when sirius got back he was politely informed that there would be a ‘change of staff’, but he didn’t quite care as he took his boyfriend into his arms.

sirius adopted every pet name known to man. remus was his sweetheart, his baby, his angel, his honeybun, his darling, his beautiful murderous man. remus quite liked using a few of them himself.

another time, remus wasn’t feeling too well and stayed home while sirius carried out a heist he’d had planned for several weeks of some expensive jewels. sirius offered to stay home and take care of him, but remus insisted the job was too important.

when he did get home, late into the night, remus was already in bed. sirius smiled to himself as he padded over to kiss his cheek, ask how he was (“there’s some leftovers from dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry” “I just wanted to see my baby first”)

their criminal activity is surprisingly domestic. sitting at the dinner table, legs interlocked, as one of them moves money into an overseas account and the other sorts through which stolen jewels to sell and which to keep as leverage.

this will usually dissolve into sirius giving in and initiating a kiss, followed by several more. remus pretends to hate it (“this has to get done” “it can wait, darling”)

maybe at one point remus gets fed up of crime, and wants to do something normal for a bit – find a hobby. sirius wholeheartedly supports his boyfriend’s attempts at art, baking, knitting, squash, chess…”

for their one year anniversary, sirius plans something big: they rob their first bank together, duh.

sneaking little love notes as they crack open the vault late at night, carrying remus over the threshold of the bank floor, kissing under pouring rain-like water as they accidentally set the sprinkler system off.

as they speed away in the getaway car, sirius turns to remus and offers a ring – valued at about 50 million dollars and stolen in their grand robbery. he smiles shyly, duffel bags full of money on his lap, as he lets it glint in the moonlight.

remus almost combusts (but doesn’t as he’s driving and isn’t feeling a near-death situation on their anniversary of all days), says yes and leans over for a long kiss with his boyfriend (now fiancé) as they inch further and further away from the flashing lights of cop cars chasing them down the street.

remus thought it was the most romantic thing in the world.

if that was the proposal, just imagine their wedding !!!

anyways yes our supervillain boys live an unconventional happily ever after as the most feared couple in the world, and both are more than happy to do so.

[pedrosbisch]

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

[cafedanslanuit]

[ k i n k t o b e r ]  d a y   21    -   masterlist

↪ character: todoroki shouto [boku no hero]

↪ tags/warnings: +18, female!reader, alcohol usage, stolen kisses, cheating (reader helps to cheat ig), passionate sex, slight angst

↪ a/n: the idea came to me while listening to ‘the winner takes it all’ by abba ~

Why are you here?

You finished the drink in your hand, feeling the vodka burning down your throat. You watch Todoroki greet the other guests and you want to yell at him to leave. Leave, leave, leave, fucking leave. It wasn’t enough that he had ruined your small party, now he had the audacity to appear.

Leave, leave, leave.

Go back to your fiancée.

The day had started out great. You had been promoted at the agency, and were told you would get your own sidekicks. Beaming with happiness, you agreed when Denki offered to organize a small office party, proud of your achievements. While your boss, the main hero of the agency looked for a bottle of champagne for the celebratory brindis, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom for a bit. On your way there, you checked your phone, almost dropping it when the first post that appeared on your timeline was a photo of an engagement ring on Momo’s hand.

You read her post, saying how happy she was that it was exactly a year after they had started dating. Had it already been a year? You swallowed thick and kept looking at the photo, which Todoroki had obviously liked. He probably had posted something similar. You wouldn’t know, having blocked him from your social media a while ago, when their couple photos became too much to handle.

You shouldn’t have stopped trying. It had been a fight-- a stupid fight if you had to be honest. A miscommunication that shouldn’t have happened. You waited for him to apologize and he did the same. Days became weeks, and not too long after you heard whispers about him dating a girl from his school. But it was just a rebound, right? You would find your way back together again. You were sure.

You were.

Denki found you standing in the hallway, eyes lost on your phone. He took it from you, his eyes widening when he saw Momo’s post. Knowing your past history with Todoroki, he tried to comfort you, but you just nodded and followed him back to the office, putting on your best hero smile.

And now he was at the party. Why?

You stopped counting the times you poured more straight vodka to your cup. When you saw Todoroki approaching you, you made a beeline around him and entered the small kitchen in the office. You rested your hands on the sink and took a deep breath, doing your very best to calm the dizziness on your head from walking so fast. 

A few minutes later, you heard someone coming inside, so you turned around with your hero smile. The moment you saw the half red and white hair, it dropped from your face.

“I wanted to congratulate you for--”

“What are you doing here, Todoroki?” you spat. He frowned.

“I came to congratulate you--”

“No, don’t bullshit me,” you said with a dry laugh. Looking at the kitchen door, you closed it, trying to avoid any prying eyes from your coworkers. “Don’t bullshit me, why aren’t you with your girlfr-- no, my bad! Your fiancée, why don’t you go back to her?” you asked, the liquor on your head making all the hurt that had been accumulating inside your heart turn into harsh words.

Todoroki stayed in silence, eyes fixated on yours. He parted his lips but no words came out. The silence between the both of you seemed to last an eternity, only the music coming from the office filling the gap. You took another look at him, at his black shirt and dark jeans and missed him. Your body craved for his touch, not having been this close since the night he left your apartment. The night you let him go.

You weren’t aware of the tears streaming down your face until Todoroki had cupped your face with his hands and was trying to wipe them off with his thumb. Your whole body started trembling at the contact and even more tears ran down your cheeks.

“I was a fool,” you whispered. Todoroki just kept trying to dry off your cheeks. “I thought-- I thought things would fix themselves and they didn’t. And now I get I was a fool, I’m so sorry, Shouto,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry I didn’t push harder, I’m sorry I let you go because I miss you so much. Every day, every night, I miss you so much.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened a bit at your words, but remained silent again. His hands were still on your face, but he was no longer trying to stop your crying. You put your hands over his and smiled softly at how familiar it felt.

“Does she kiss like I used to kiss you?” you whispered. You laughed softly at your own words and shook your head. “Don’t-- don’t answer that. I understand how it is. I understand I was the one that let you go. So, just… just this once, Shoto, I just…”

You surprised both him and yourself by pressing your lips against his. But it felt like home, even if it wasn't supposed to be like this, even if he was already a lost cause. You pulled away, face flushed in embarrassment, but immediately felt his hand pulling you from the back of your head again. Todoroki kissed you intensely, his hand clasped around your hair. Soon enough, both your arms were around his neck and your body pressed against him, kissing him back.

A loud crash made you pull away, and by the laughs of your coworkers, it seemed someone had broken a liquor bottle. You looked back at your ex, the reality of your situation dawning on you. You wiped the trace of your lipstick from his lower lip and gave him a small smile.

"Sorry," you muttered, before turning back and leaving. This time, he was the one that let you go. Denki looked at you questioningly, his eyes darting from you to Todoroki. 'We just talked', you mouthed to him and he nodded, before taking your hand and pulling you to the dance floor.

-----

Three knocks on your apartment door were enough to wake you up. You looked at your phone and saw it was already 3 am. The party had lasted until midnight and then you had taken a cab to your place. Two glasses of water and an advil were enough to send you to sleep.

Someone knocked again and you groaned, forcing yourself to get up from your bed. Putting on a robe, you walked to your front door. You wished you hadn't the moment you saw the same half red half white hair and mesmerizing eyes looking back at you.

"... Todoroki, it's 3 am," you yawned. He stayed in silence and you rolled your eyes. "Seriously, I need to get some sleep, I am really tired."

"I came because I can't stop thinking about earlier," he confessed in a neutral tone. Your head snapped back to him, your eyes wide open and lips slightly parted.

"What d--" your sentence was cut short by Todoroki entering your apartment and kissing you on the lips. As if it were a drug, you kissed him back without restraint, not caring how loudly he shut the door behind him. In a few seconds he was carrying you, your legs hooked around his waist as the kiss continued, rough, desperately and filled with more passion than you had felt in the last year.

Your back hit the couch, and memories of laying with Todoroki after a long day of work or watching a movie together right in the same spot came to your mind. You pulled him closer, your legs still wrapped around his waist as your fingers worked to open his shirt. Todoroki got rid of it along with your robe quickly and let his hands wander underneath your pajamas. You let out a sigh when he closed his hands around your breasts. Was it delusional for you to have missed his touch this bad? You always joked that your body was made for him, but feeling his hands match exactly the size of your breasts only reinforced the idea. You took off your pajama top and threw it to the floor. Todoroki’s skin felt hot against yours, almost burning as he took a couple of seconds to look at you.

“I missed you,” you whispered. He smiled softly and kissed you softly, his lips grazing yours for the longest time, as if he wanted to make sure you were real.

“I missed you too,” he replied against your mouth. You drank the chuckle that followed and pulled him back for another kiss as you fumbled with his pants, who made their way to the floor along with the rest of your clothes.

Todoroki’s hand travelled between your legs, his fingers sliding between your wet folds. The moans coming from your mouth became louder as he pushed two fingers inside, feelings your walls tightening around him. He used his free hand to cradle your face, his eyes set on yours as you whimpered under his touch. His thumb drew circles around your clit and your moans started sounding like his name, like a soft prayer, like a welcome home.

Moments later, Todoroki was pushing his cock inside of you, and even if he had taken his time preparing you, the stretch burnt, making you remember how long it had been since the last time he made love to you. This time, you held his head between your hands, foreheads pressed together as he moved his hips against yours at a controlled pace, as if he were getting to know you all over again. You tried to match him with your hips, making him groan against your lips.

Todoroki kissed you and increased his rhythm. His lips devoured you passionately, his tongue dancing with yours as he thrusted in and out. His body knew you so well, it felt like it was claiming it back. It felt familiar, it felt safe, as if you didn’t need anything else to enjoy intimacy with you. Even if you had experimented different kinks with him the years you had been together, somehow it all went back to him. It never was the heterochromic eyes or the toned arms you tried to find in other people. It was never looking for men who were also dominant in bed or the quiet ones.

It was just Shouto. The one thing missing was always him.

It doesn’t take long for him to take you over the edge, and he follows shortly after, breath hitching against yours. Todoroki attempts to pull out, but your legs wouldn’t let him.

“Stay,” you whispered weakly and he nodded, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before resting his head on your chest.

Once his head is out of the way, you’re able to see your apartment once again. On the window in front of you, you can see the sun is going to rise any moment, yet all you think about is staying a bit longer with him. Maybe going out for breakfast to the old diner Shouto liked, and going for a stroll until--

Your eyes stop at the door, and the memory of him leaving a year ago comes back to your mind. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look back and see him lying with his eyes closed and calmed respiration. He was there. He came back. That had to mean something, right?

… It had to.

You caressed Shouto’s hair strands and he smiled softly, eyes fluttering as he looked back at you.

"Shouto…" you whispered, a knot forming on your throat. He took the hand you had on his hair and squeezed it gently.

"Hmm?"

"Shouto… you should go home."

This is my home, you yearned for him to say. I’m home, or maybe another way of him showing you how much you meant to him. How much he was willing to give up to be back in your arms for good.

You wanted desperately to know if your apartment was still a home for Shouto, if he still wanted to build something with you. Because if he did, if he really saw you as his home, then maybe you could--

Todoroki pulled out of you, ignoring the small gasp that left your lips. He stood up and quickly started dressing up, his back turned to you. You closed your eyes, but it still wasn't quick enough to not let a tear fall down your face. Even if you were quick at wiping it off, he never once looked back, not even before he disappeared behind your apartment front door.

Your ragged breath and whimpers emerged only once you thought he was far enough, covering your body with the robe that was laying next to you.

It still smelt like him.

You still smelt like him.

---

Todoroki looked at himself on the elevator mirror, trying to fix his hair the best he could, even if he didn't think he would run into anyone in the middle of the night.

'You should go home'.

Your words echoed inside his mind, as he kicked himself for not understanding it sooner. You had been clear enough for him to understand that wasn't his home anymore. It didn't matter how much you had just trembled beneath him, or the way you had looked at him with what he thought was love as he buried himself into you. He had fucked up, he had fucked up by leaving his true home more than a year ago, and now there wasn't a place for him anymore. He understood. He had to understand.

Even if it took him his entire life.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 25: Home

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no. That's all I have to say. Also, Chen is a delight.

A/N: This chapter was so long that I actually cut it in half to post it over two separate days instead. It was 12 pages and I figured that was a bit much. Though, 8-12 is what I average when I'm writing fiction for publishing so... haha <3 love you guys! hope you are all doing wonderful!! Also please, please make dick jokes in the comments. PLEASE lol.

Part 24 Part 26 Chapter Index

It was a struggle to open your eyes even if you were awake. You had rolled onto your side and were facing the window. You could see the light of the morning peeking in from along the seams of the dark curtains of the hotel room. Somewhere throughout the night, you’d readjusted and now you were the little spoon. You could feel his soft, even breath on your shoulder, warm and comforting. His arm was tucked beneath you, the other wrapped tightly over yours that rested over your chest.

You didn’t want to get up, so you closed your eyes again and sunk into his arms, clearly not thinking. Your back was pressed against his chest, your hips pressed square against his too. He tightened his arm around you, and nuzzled into the side of your neck, a hot sigh tickling your sensitive bruised flesh. More importantly, you could feel him pressed right against your backside in all his glory. There he was. Liu Kang. You snapped your eyes open and were as stiff, well, as he was, afraid that you would make it worse if you moved even if you were incredibly curious.

Just what kind of good dreams was he having?

Then you had to try not to laugh. You carefully turned to bury your face in the pillows, and it was so hot that you swore you might be burning alive. Liu Kang and his inherent warmth against every single part of your body was killing you.

You were going to suffocate. Or catch fire.

Deep breaths. Breathe through his hand gently clutching yours. You could do this.

Okay.

No big deal.

Liu Kang was wrapped around you, pressed against you, and you were trapped in his arms and trying desperately to think about anything other than that. The impure thoughts were rampant.

Chen would have been screaming your victory throughout the temple. She also would have told you to just go for it. Make that complicated ride that much more complicated. Poor choice of words, brain. Chen had gotten into your head. And all the tension you’d built up with Kung Lao and Liu Kang had no release to speak of.

“Liu?” You decided the best thing to do would be to wake him up. Sneaking out of his arms would have made things both awkward and worse.

He stirred at the sound of your voice and pulled you tighter. It took everything inside of you not make a sound of surprised delight at the impressive mental picture he had very clearly painted. Oh, god there were so many jokes popping into your head. Sarcastic defense mechanism, go away! You had to keep it together. No laughing. No moaning. No jokes.

Your face had never been redder. He was waking up. Thank god. His lips brushed against your shoulder, and he nuzzled right against the side of your neck, nose pressing just behind your ear. This was hard. Ah, damnit brain. No jokes! With a soft moan just against your neck, he shifted.

Then, very suddenly, Liu pulled his arm out from beneath you, let you go and rolled onto his back, knees bent so that the blankets didn’t reveal any secrets. Yeah, the secret had more than been revealed already. You appreciated his modesty anyway. You carefully scooted onto your back, careful not to brush against him in any way and fanned your face. There was no talking down the redness in your cheeks, no hiding what had happened.

“Sorry,” he managed, his voice still gruff and sleepy. He stared at the ceiling and seemed to be coaching himself through his own deep breaths. You sat up and adjusted your shirt that had become unbelievably crooked. Some of the buttons had even come undone. Jeez, you’d certainly been busy while you’d slept. “You… sleep alright?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and the fact that he was trying to have a totally normal conversation like that hadn’t happened was hilarious.

No laughing.

“Yeah, it took a while to get to sleep but I basically blacked out when I did. Feels like I could sleep for another year though.” You somehow managed to act normal. As normal as you could with your face as red as it was and your eyes as wide as they were. You could barely have a conversation about where you were relationship-wise, so you were pretty sure that you weren’t ready to discuss his morning wood.

You needed Chen in that moment. You needed Chen to help you uncomplicate this yarn ball of chaos in your head. Then again, Chen would have just told you to go for it. To reach around and give it a go. You had to close your eyes and try not to laugh again. “What about you?”

You didn’t laugh. Kudos to you.

“Tired this morning.” It was the first time that you had ever seen Liu Kang looking like he could have slept longer than you did. In fact, he was a little pale. Not terribly so, but then again, all the blood in his body was busy somewhere else. It took every ounce of your strength not to ask him if he was okay. He would tell you if he wasn’t. “I need a shower. Will you be okay alone?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You purposely turned toward your own bed to offer him modesty, but you might never be your normal color again. Red forever. You waited for the sound of the bathroom door closing before you flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. You’d changed your mind. “I can never ever tell Chen this happened.” The teasing would have gone on forever.

While he was in the shower, you changed into some of your new clothes and then cleaned yourself up. In the mirror your cheeks were finally turning back to a normal rosy color. You checked on the jade to make sure that nothing had changed during the night, and then you packed up, opened the curtains to the hotel room, and straightened up while you waited for Liu, doing anything in your power to stop your renegade thoughts.

“Do you need to stop anywhere before we go back to the temple?” Liu joined you moments after you were dressed, clothed in his familiar black and white gi, and back to his old self. Still a little pale though.

“Hmm?” You had just finished tucking the jade into your bag.

“You didn’t really get the chance to pack up your things to stay with us. I figured you might need to do some shopping.”

He was so damn thoughtful. “I actually went shopping before I met with you yesterday morning.” You patted the bag. “So, I’m okay. Thank you for offering though. I really did need a few things, especially since I keep destroying everything I wear with ink.” You patted his shoulder as you walked past him to sneak into the bathroom now that he was finished. You had to make yourself presentable and enjoy these modern amenities one last time before you returned to the temple.

Afterward, you stopped at a food stall on the road and grabbed breakfast. Then you hiked up the mountain just far enough so that Liu could summon Raiden to bring you back. You still weren’t quite sure how they did that. Was it a prayer? It looked like a prayer. He was a God, after all. Liu had used a flourish of fire, but Kung Lao had just closed his eyes and then boom. Lightning.

You were back in the temple in a flash. You pulled the bundle of jade out of your bag and offered it to Raiden while Liu Kang updated him on what you’d gone through. It felt weird to be back but not in a bad way, necessarily. This was your home now, you guessed. You hadn’t really talked about it. Everything had happened naturally and without question.

Raiden peered into the shirt and then allowed the jade to fall onto a second pedestal that had been placed a few feet away from the first one which was currently encased in glass. “Good.” Raiden seemed impressed, and you beamed. He really did have a fatherly presence about him. “I need time to examine these artifacts and attempt to unravel their purpose. The wickedness and power that has been infused within them continues to elude me.” You had expected him to need time, but you had also expected him to be able to figure it out. Again. He was a god. These things took time, you figured but you also had no idea how to process what you were up against. It was still way above your head. “From what I’ve devised from the dotaku, it was used in a dark ritual. It is tainted beyond my sight with dark energy. You two will check into the infirmary on and off for the next few days. Kung Lao has come down with a terrible fever since his return. I suspect it’s the curse on these objects causing it.”

Liu gave you an accusatory look as if to ask if you were hiding something from him. You shrugged and shook your head to his silent request. “I’m bruised all over but other than that? I feel fine. And that bell was all over me. We were much more careful about the jade. Trust me, if I had a high fever then you would know it. I’m a big baby about fevers.”

“Even if it turns out that you are immune to the impact of these objects, I would like you both to make certain that you keep a watchful eye on your health and report all symptoms to those in the infirmary.”

“Yes, of course Lord Raiden.” Liu Kang bowed respectfully before him.

“When I’ve uncovered anything of note then I will call upon you.” Raiden spoke more to you than to Liu and you bowed your head as you had learned to do. You were grateful to him for trying to help you at all. Raiden very well could have just let you die and had someone else take the mark from you. This was still beyond your understanding. Gods, curses, magic. You’d jumped into it all headfirst and had embraced the chaos, but there were moments where your logic-brain said ‘excuse me’ and you had to sort out the nonsense there.

You were trying your best, but it always came back to thought that you were very likely going to die because of this. Raiden turned away from you, dismissing you without a word. Liu nodded toward the doorway and you walked with him, dragging your bag behind you. Being out in the world for a few days had been nice. You weren’t sure how long it would take to acclimate to life in Raiden’s Temple. Right now, you were just hoping that you’d have the time to figure that out.

You made your way into the infirmary and Chen practically ran to you and gave you a hug. You were a little surprised by it but returned the affection. “Welcome back!” Chen smiled brightly and then bowed to Liu Kang respectfully. “Raiden has orders for us to keep an eye on the two of you. Please take a seat.” Chen led you to one of the empty benches, so you sat down there together.

Chen examined Liu first, taking his vitals and writing them down in a notebook she had nearby. You sat awkwardly, tapping your forefinger against your knee. Chen sat back up after she was done and then rested her hands on her knees.

“You have a fever, Liu Kang.” She tapped the paper and he blinked in surprise.

“I feel fine.” He insisted, looking to you as if he had to justify it after all his accusatory glances. He’d worried about you so much that he seemed to think that the tables were about to be turned.

“Just over 100. But if Kung Lao is anything to judge by then this isn’t the worst of it yet. I recommend rest and fluids.” Chen then frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Not that I can force you to rest, of course. I suggested the same to Kung Lao and he said, and I quote ‘I will take it into consideration’ except that his fever was spiking up to 104.”

“That sounds right.” Liu sighed but you felt suddenly on high alert. That was one hell of a fever! You’d have to check in on him. “I’ll rest and if I feel worse then I’ll check back in. If not, then I will be here in the morning just in case.”

“Thank you.” Chen slumped her shoulders as if this were a relief in comparison to having dealt with Kung Lao.

“Y/N?” Chen looked to you disapprovingly as if you were about to be just as stubborn.

“I feel fine! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“You often say that you’re feeling fine when you are not, in fact, fine,” Liu whispered, and Chen snorted with laughter while taking your vitals.

“Well, I am legitimately fine right now. Honestly! And I don’t mean to lie about that stuff. The last few weeks have been weird so my definition of fine has kind of changed.” You pouted. You hadn’t meant to give anyone a false sense of how you’d been feeling but fine one day had meant that you could use your arms again and fine another meant that you’d had a vision but were still functioning. Chen glared at you, trying to discern if you were hiding something. Then she made a little note in her book. You craned your neck to try and read it and so did Liu. You gave him a look to silently scold him, and he returned it. You tightened your lips not to laugh but couldn’t hide your grin.

“She’s not lying. No fever. In fact, your temperature is even a little low. This is the most normal checkup you’ve had since you’ve been here, Y/N. I want you to come in for bloodwork later but for now… you’re okay.” Chen still seemed suspicious and Liu did too.

“Wow, you just can’t believe I’m the finest in the land right now.” You teased and Liu laughed and then shook his head as if embarrassed that he’d laughed at it. It had been a terrible joke, to be fair.

“Thank you.” Liu stood and bowed politely to Chen. You joined him and waved at Chen.

“Y/N? Could I talk to you for a second?” Chen called you back just as you’d made it outside the infirmary and back to your bag.

“I’ll be two seconds.” You told Liu who leaned against the wall of the doorway. Now that you knew he had a fever, his pale face made sense. Your hurried over to Chen. “What’s up?”

“So…?” Chen nodded toward Liu Kang and then gestured to you. You stared in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? Right now?”

“Umm, yeah right now.”

“It’s complicated.” You rubbed your temples in annoyance. “And I obviously don’t have time to talk about it right now.”

“Oh, thank god that it’s finally complicated!”

“It has always been complicated, Chen. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I can’t. But this is disappointing news.” Chen sighed in obvious frustration. Why was she frustrated? You were the one surrounded by a sea of hormones all damn day! “Come chat with me when you get the chance. I want to know how it went and also what complicated means.”

“Can I please go now, Chen? Please? He’s just standing behind me waiting for me while you gossip.”

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you once by the way.” Chen sighed dreamily but her expression quickly shifted. “On a more serious note… I’m worried that you aren’t having symptoms the way that they are. I have a bad feeling again. Keep checking in with me, okay?”

“You are a surprise every time I talk to you.” You gently grasped Chen’s shoulder. “I’m going now.”

“You better find me later!”

“You’re a terrible monk,” You whispered and then pointed at another monk who had been very obviously listening in, silently nodding your head as if to add in that he, too, was a terrible monk.

[yandere-daydreams]

darling escapes from atsumu & runs to osamu for help, not knowing that the twins share the same feelings for her

I try to keep my Reader-Inserts gender neutral as often as possible, but I /love/ the idea of escaping from one brother, only to fall into the loving arms of another. At least Osamu’s a little nice, or, he can be, at least. He tries to be. Sometimes. Maybe. If you’re really, really lucky.

Title: Trade Off.

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Dehumanization, and Slight Infantilization.

~

Osamu greeted you with a hug.

From anyone else, it wouldn’t have been surprising. What kind of friend wouldn’t hug you - a missing person, a victim of something awful with the evidence littered all over your skin, in burns and cuts and too many bite-marks to count, but Osamu had always been reserved. A hug from him was like rain in the desert, snowfall in the tropics, and despite everything you’d done to earn something more than just a stiff embrace and a moment of uncharacteristic affection, you’d cherished it. You’d fallen into it. You’d wanted it and you’d loved him for it, if only because it was something Atsumu’d never do. If only because it reminded you how different he was from his twin, despite their identical appearances.

If only because, from that point forward, you’d been sure you made the right choice by running to him, before friends and family and a dozen more reasonable choices. You were still sure.

It’d proved he cared about you, and that was something his brother could never do.

Even now, his protective fondness hung in the air, laying over you and keeping you warm like a blanket of worried glances and soft touches, Osamu taking any excuse to rest his hand on your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, little things to reassure himself that you were there and you were real, even if hours had already passed since you turned up on his doorstep. You’d already told him about Atsumu, how he’d turned into a monster overnight and the more palatable parts of your captivity, and he’d sat across from you in the cramped living-room, nodding occasionally and letting you speak, getting you a cup of something hot and herbal when your eyes went cloudy and your hands started to shake. You drank it down, thankful for the excuse to stifle the words you found pouring off of your tongue, despite your best efforts to hold them in.

Osamu took your story in stride. With his chin resting on his fist, he scanned over you, his gaze lingering passively on Atsumu’s shirt, the only piece of clothing you’d been able to grab before you fled, and a particularly bad bruise over your shoulder, dipping down until it reached your collarbone. “Want to use my phone?” He offered, his voice flat, but the question itself full of concern. “Your folks must be worried sick. I wouldn’t blame you for wantin’ to get out of here sooner than later.”

You should call someone, your parents, the police, someone, but a selfish, exhausted part of you just wanted to curl up on Osamu’s couch and spend a few more days in denial, pretending the past few months of your life hadn’t happened or dismissing the fact that they’d continue to take a toll on you. Embracing the idea wouldn’t be a good idea, but it couldn’t hurt to indulge it. Get a few hours of sleep, see if you could find a decent pair of pants. Take in Osamu’s hospitality rather than try to tell yourself you didn’t need it. “I need a little time,” You said, shaking your head idly. “You don’t mind if I hang around for a while, do you? I just… I’d like to get my story straight. Saying ‘my famous boyfriend locked me in his basement because he loved me’ might not go over well with the police.”

That earned an airy chuckle. Osamu stood, taking you by the hand to help you do the same. “C’mon. I have a spare room I’ve been fixin’ up, you can stay there for as long as you need to.”

You smiled up at him, and he smiled back. You weren’t sure whether it was relief, joy or gratitude that flooded into your body before you could remind yourself to be cautious, but you let Osamu guide you through his home without complaint, only letting go of his hand when he came to a white door at the end of a long hall, and Osamu had to fish through his pockets to find its key.

‘Fixing up’ had been an understatement.

You weren’t sure if Osamu and Atsumu had a younger sibling, any cousins they favored, but if they did, those kids must’ve been spoiled rotten. The walls were painted a rich, pastel pink, the desk and the bed both new and trendy and absolutely covered in trinkets and toys, things that fell somewhere between decorative and unnecessary. There weren’t any windows, but with a flip of a switch, a small army of lamps lit the room with a soft glow, making you want to fall onto the plush rug that covered most of the floor and lose yourself in the unadulterated homeyness. You couldn’t say you were difficult to impress - with Atsumu, your ‘room’ was either an empty, darkened closet or a crate, sometimes big enough to accommodate you, sometimes not. This felt… extravagant, in comparison. More than you deserved. More than you could accept without paying a price.

It made sense when you heard the door close behind you, a lock clicking into place and Osamu’s key slipping back into his pocket. Your heart still froze into your chest, your pulse slowing down and racing at the same time, but it made sense.

You swallowed your nerves hastily, forcing yourself to turn around and cross your arms over your chest. A futile gesture, considering Osamu’s height and your blatant frailty, but it was too early to grovel. If he wanted to push you around, you’d prove you could push back. “Let me out, now. I don’t know if you think this is funny, but--”

“I started putting this together the day after ‘tsumu got to you. It was already too late, no one knew what ditch you’d died in, but what the hell, right?” He walked past you swiftly, not bothering to acknowledge your rebellion. He didn’t speak loudly, nor was he any more imposing than he’d been a minute ago, but what he was saying, how casually he was saying it, was enough to render you speechless. Absentmindedly, he slid open the closet’s mirrored panel, rummaging through its contents as he went on. “It wasn’t hurting anyone, and if I was gonna get my hands on you eventually, I’d have a plan. He’s too impulsive, never had to wait for anythin’ in his life. I was worried he was gonna break you, for a few weeks.” He paused, pursing his lips as he found what he was looking for. Clothes were thrown at your feet, a full outfit too sheer and too minimalistic to be for your enjoyment. “Change. I’ve wanted to rip those fucking rags off of you since you got here.”

You didn’t bother responding to that. You had a feeling it would only fuel his smoldering hostility. “This isn’t--” You bit your tongue before you could finish. ‘It’s not fair’ was something a child would say, and you were an adult, a capable, independent adult. Clearly, you’d already done something to make the Miya twins think otherwise. “You have to let me go, Osamu. I just got away from your brother, I just got free, you can’t take that away from me. We’re supposed to be friends. You’re supposed to care about me.”

“I’m doing this because I care about you.” On their own, the words might’ve been kind, empathetic, but whatever warmth his gaze held was balanced out by the way his lips curled back, how his tone turned into a snarl so easily. “What would you do if I opened that door? Run off and tell the cops? Knock on doors until you find someone willing to believe that a celebrity and his twin both tried to kidnap you, back to back? Or, would you go crawling back to ‘tsumu, see if he still wants you after you let his brother put his hands all over you?” He had a way of laughing at his own jokes, the noise so arrogant, so confident, so annoying, it was hard to believe he’d ever found anyone else funny. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. “I’m trying to be nice, but if you make this hard for me, I’ll make it hard for you.”

You grit your teeth, but your body betrayed you, eyes flickering down to the cloth at your feet. “I can manage on my own--”

“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers were in your hair before you noticed he was moving, forcing your head to bow as his blunt nails dug into your scalp. “You’re helpless, and you know you are. If you aren’t in ‘tsumu’s bed, you’re gonna be in mine, and you’re smart enough to make the right choice. Fucking change, before I start to think it’d be easier to throw you out myself.”

You stiffened, going rigid under his palm. Then, you kneeled, taking up the silken fabric and casting him one last glare before retreating to the other side of the room, turning your back to Osamu as you slid Atumu’s shirt over your head. 

 Just exchanging one kidnapper for another.

~

Silently, Osamu watched as you fled and regrouped, facing away from him to hide the way your shoulders trembled, your body shaking so violently, Osamu couldn’t be sure whether or not you were trying to make him pity you. He didn’t mind, though. He’d been waiting months for this. Years, honestly, but Osamu’s teenage daydreams hardly centered around taking in his brother’s wayward brat. If Atsumu had tried to train you, he’d done a piss-poor job. You were as obedient as you would’ve been fresh-off the streets, and now you knew all the tricks and tactics of a well-worn captive.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he was disappointed. Already, a collection of incentives were burning holes in his mattress, tucked under his bed and waiting to be used the first time you acted-up with something more aggressive than words. Luckily, you were too preoccupied to notice his mouth moving in a silent prayer, words of thanks that you’d turned down his offer to use his phone. If you thought to go through his messages, his call history, you wouldn’t have liked what you found. He was already planning for how… distressed you’d be, at the next trade-off.

If you were this fussy to fall into Osamu’s care at all, he couldn’t imagine how you’d act when Atsumu’s next turn came around.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

epiphany

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death]

word count: 3168

Age: 21 Year: Sep. 2015 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"So I was thinking, godparents," Bucky spoke up. He and Natasha were currently finishing setting up the baby's nursery in their new apartment.

They had found a nice two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, much to Natasha's dismay. Bucky thought it was the perfect place to start their new little family. It was also about a 20 to 30 minutes drive to Bucky's work and University campus. His mom and stepdad had even offered to help them out financially for a bit, just as long as Bucky continued on his path to graduate with his Masters in Music Technology in the Spring.

Bucky had managed to finish his bachelor's and masters program in just the span of 4 years, a whole year earlier than originally planned. He was proud of himself, if there's one thing he hadn't screwed up yet, it was his education. He had fully devoted himself to his education the last four years and it clearly paid off. He had also managed to get a good paying job at a studio as an engineer. He had his whole future all planned out, the pregnancy might've been a curve ball at the beginning but with the help of his family and therapist, he was handling it all so well.

"Oh you don't need to worry about the godparents, I have it all figured out already," Natasha tells him as she folds baby clothes, "I picked Abigail and Dylan."

Natasha on the other hand had decided to put her education on hold. Deciding she wanted to be a stay at home mom, Bucky constantly made sure that that's what she wanted. And she insisted every time that she was "made to be a stay at home mom". So Bucky had to reluctantly allow her to make that decision. 

Which was one of the reasons why his parents had offered to help out for at least the first year or two, they had known their son was already stressing about finances, and trying to respect Natasha's decision. They figured two years would be a good enough time for the couple to build up their savings.

Bucky didn't like the fact that his parents were helping out with money, but he knew him and Nat wouldn't have been able to make it just on is current income alone. At least not until after he graduated, his boss had already promised a raise once he graduated, but that wasn't until May and the baby was due in the next two weeks.  He promised to pay his parents back every cent they gave him, but they told him to just focus on being a good father.

"Abigail and Dylan?" He questioned.

"Yeah," she shrugged her shoulders.

"The same Abigail and Dylan that showed up to the baby shower high, and proceed to get drunk, because and I quote 'babies are so boring'. That Abigail and Dylan?"

"Come on James, they were just joking, plus baby showers aren't necessarily the most fun thing in the world," she rolled her eyes.

"Can we at least each choose one godparent?" He suggested, "You can have Abigail as the Godmother and I can choose The Godfather."

"Like Sam?"

"No, not Sam. Steve," Bucky tells her.

"Oh, then no," she simply said, turning her back to him to continue putting clothes away.

"What's your problem?" Bucky asks annoyed, finally having enough of her attitude, "This entire pregnancy you've been against everything I've suggested."

"Hey, you got to choose Brooklyn," she turned around pointing her finger at him.

"Yeah because I couldn't fucking afford Manhattan Natasha," he stressed, trying not to raise his voice at her, "You didn't want to know the gender of the baby? Fine. You get to name the baby? Fine. You choose the color scheme of the nursery, fine. You choose the hospital. You choose the apartment. God damn Nat, I haven't done a single thing but pay for everything."

"And I thank-you for that," she rolled her eyes.

"But you don't," he shakes his head in disbelief over her reactions, "You haven't thanked me once. I get that you're carrying our child, and I'm appreciative of that. But god damn Natasha, show me some respect. Show my family some respect!

"You didn't thank my mom, Rebecca, or Keith for everything they've done for you. For us. And I can't keep making up excuses to defend you," he raises his voice a little bit.

"If this relationship is ever going to work, you need to be respectful. You need to stop being so selfish. I get this isn't easy for you, but trust me, this isn't easy for me either. But I agreed to do this. I am stepping up. I want to be a part of my child's life. And I want us to be together and be family," he calms down, "But if you continue to act this way. I won't stay in this relationship."

"You're just going to abandon us?" Natasha asks grabbing her belly, suddenly realizing the reality of the situation.

"No, I won't abandon you both. But we won't be together," he explains, "I will always be in my child's life. I will always be there for them. I'm not going to put my child through the same thing I went through growing up. I promised myself I would never do that."

"So if that means that you and I break up, then so be it Natasha, I'll do it," he tells her, "My child will not grow up in a toxic household."

"Okay," she agrees, tears in her eyes, "I promise I will be better."

"Don't promise me Nat, just show me."

Two and a half weeks later Bucky found himself rushing an in-labor Natasha to the hospital, it was a quick k10 minute drive from their apartment. He quickly called his mom as the nurses wheeled Natasha away, with Bucky following.

Bucky's mom arrives within the next 10 minutes, as the nurses begin to prep Natasha in her hospital room.

Bucky sent a quick text to Steve and Sam, letting them know it was showtime and that he'll call them once the baby is here.

"How's Mama doing?" The doctor asked while entering the room, quickly taking her spot at the foot of the bed to examine Natasha.

"It hurts," Nat cried, as Bucky tried to soothe her.

"I know, but unfortunately you were too far dilated when you arrived, that it's too late for the epidural," the doctor softly explains, "But the good news is I feel Baby's head, so it's time to go."

Natasha looked over at Bucky, completely scared.

"It's okay," he assured her, "I'm right here. Everything's going to be okay."

He leaned down an placed a soft kiss to her lips, helping her relax a bit.

"Ready?" The doctor looks up at Natasha.

"Yes," Natasha nodded, grabbing a hold of Bucky and his mom's hands on either side of her.

10 minutes later, a soft cry was heard in the room. Bucky quickly glanced over to where the doctor was had finished pulling the baby out.

"Congrats Mommy and Daddy, it's a girl," she announced.

"A girl?" Bucky whispered in awe, tears filling his eyes. He looked over at Natasha, who looked a lot paler in color.

"Nat?" He called out for her.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her limbs went limp, and all the monitors started to go crazy.

The doctor quickly cut the umbilical chord and handed the baby off to an awaiting nurse.

"What's going on?" Bucky panicky asked.

"Get them out," the doctor told a nurse, ignoring Bucky's question.

A nurse quickly escorted Bucky and his mom out of the room.

"She's going to be okay right?" He asked his mom, tears streaming down his face.

"I don't know honey," she honestly said, wrapping her arms around her son. She never thought the first hug they shared after him becoming a father would be like this.

She continued to hold him, soothing him as she made silent prayers pleading for Natasha's safety.

10 minutes later. The same 10 minutes it took for them to arrive to the hospital. The same 10 minutes it took Natasha to bring their daughter into the world, the door opened.

Bucky quickly pulled apart from his mom to see the doctor walking out of the room.

The doctor's face was filled with sorrow. Bucky's mom immediately put her head down, already knowing the outcome.

"How is she?" Bucky asked.

"Mr. Barnes, Natasha had a postpartum hemorrhage, due to issues with her placenta," the doctor carefully explains, "Unfortunately, there was too much blood loss. We weren't able to save her. She died."

Bucky immediately broke down, his mom quickly caught him. The doctor placed a reassuring hand on his back.

He quickly pulled away after a couple of minutes, "The baby. How's the baby?"

"She's good. They took her to get checked just as a safety procedure," the doctor tells him, "She's on the pediatric floor. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yeah," he says, then pauses, "What about Natasha?"

"We can come get you to say goodbye once we get her cleaned," the doctor tells him.

"Okay, thank you," he says.

The doctor takes him and his mom to the pediatric floor. The walk was silent. No one knowing what to say. Bucky was no longer crying, but he felt numb the entire short walk. The doctor knocked quietly on a door, before opening.

"Doctor Monroe, this is Mr. Barnes, the baby's father," the doctor said, before stepping aside to let Bucky in, "Mr. Barnes, I'll have someone come get you when it's time."

"Okay, thank-you," he nodded his head.

"Are you ready to meet your daughter?" Doctor Monroe asked, Bucky nodded his head.

"Meet your Daddy baby girl," the doctor said, gently handing the baby over to Bucky.

Bucky looked down at the small baby in his arms. He was instantly overcome with so many different emotions. The doctor walked out of the room, while Bucky's mom watched from outside threw the window.

"Hi baby girl," he whispered, sniffling back his tears, "You're so beautiful. I'm your dad. And boy am I lucky that you chose me to be your Dad. I always imagined this day would've turned out a lot differently. But life sure knows how to throw some real curveballs."

"Your mom would've loved you," he paused, letting it all sink in. His daughter will have to grow up without a mother. No little girl should have to be without a mom.

"I'm so sorry," he cried, as the baby was lulled to sleep, "I am so sorry your mom won't be able to physically be here. I am so sorry you'll have to grow up without her. No one should have to grow up without a parent. And trust me, I know what that's like. But lucky for us, I had the greatest pleasure of being raised by the most strongest and kindest mother. She taught me everything I know. Your grandma is the best lady you will ever meet. Lucky for us because god knows we're going to be needing her a lot.

"But you and I are incredibly fortunate that we won't ever be alone. We have so many people who care about us. You'll have all the female leadership you can ever need. We can do this," he strongly said to the sleeping baby, "You and I. We can do this. And I promise you this, that no matter what happens, you will always have me. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life. My love for you is greater than anything, anyone I've ever loved. My love for you will always be easy and unconditional. You'll never have to prove your worth to me. You're worth more to me than you can ever possibly imagine. I love you."

Bucky placed a soft kiss to his daughter's forehead. The first kiss he will ever give her, but definitely not the last.

There was a soft knock at the door, he gently called for the person to come in.

His mom quietly opened and closed the door behind her, stepping to her son's side.

"She's beautiful," she smiled down at the little baby.

"She really is," Bucky beamed. He looked over at his mom and noticed she was holding a clipboard, "What's that?"

"Birth certificate," she tells him, "One of the nurses gave it to me. They said there's no rush to fill it out. You have time."

"Here, I can do that," he said gently holding the baby out for her to take.

"Are you sure?" She asked, switching with him.

"Yeah, I have a name anyways."

"What is it?" She looked over at the name written down:

Poppy James Barnes.

[flashback]

After that talk Bucky had with Natasha, he noticed a serious change in her attitude. She was beginning to be more relaxed and more selfless. Bucky felt a tiny weight lifted off his shoulder. Hoping that these changes in her personality would stay.

"So what do you think about James for a boy?" Natasha asked one night, as she and Bucky made dinner together in their small kitchen.

"For a middle name?" He asked confused.

"No, his first name."

"Oh," he paused, "I actually have never liked the idea of giving a child their parents' name. I feel like it doesn't really give them a chance to be their own person. If their parent is successful then they feel the stress of always having to live up to that. And if their parent is crap then they're forever stuck with that reminder of that person."

"That makes sense," she agreed, understanding where he was coming from,

"Then how about James for the middle name. Whether it's a boy or girl."

"I would actually really like that," he smiled at her, "I would like that a lot."

They gathered up their own plates, and sat at their small round table.

"So what other names have you come up with?" Bucky asked her as he took a bite of his chicken.

"Truthfully, I haven't found any good names. All the girls keep making suggestions and they're way too out there," she tells him, "I don't want them to have a name that's too hard to pronounce or spell."

Natasha's phone started to ring, Bucky got up to grab it for her from the living room. By the time he handed it over to her it stopped ringing.

"What kind of flower is that?" He asked her, noticing her phone's Lock Screen background.

"The California Poppy," she tells him.

"Why do you have that as your background?"

"Well my mom was actually from California," she says, "She met my Dad when they both went to Harvard. They fell in love, so she decided to stay out here on the East Coast.

"The only clear memory I have from her was all the stories she used to tell me about poppy season. How the color just made everything so lively. Her parents would take her every season. I remember seeing all the photos of her as a child surrounded by all the flowers. We looked a like as children," she fondly smiled,

"She always talked about taking me to go see them, but she and Dad were always so busy. Then she got sick and there just wasn't a way for us to go. My grandparents tried to get some out here but it was too late. I never did get to see the poppies."

Natasha was silent for a moment, letting what she said sink in. She's never told anyone that story before, the memory would always make her sad. But now sitting here with Bucky, pregnant with their child, for the first time in her life her mother's death didn't bring her such sadness. She could smile at the memory and know she had the utmost best time with her mother, even if it was short lived, she knew her mother loved her. And she can't wait to shower that love onto the baby inside of her, once they were out.

"We should go," Bucky says, "Once the baby is here we should go when it's poppy season. Plus it'd be nice seeing Steve and Liz's life out west."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," her eyes teared up, seeing how generous this man was in front of her, "I'd really love that."

"Poppy, that's cute," Winifred smiled.

"Yeah, Nat would've loved it."

"They said if you were ready, you can say your goodbyes," she carefully said.

"Okay, you're good with her?"

"Yeah. Do you want me to go with you? The nurses can watch Poppy."

"No. I'd feel much better if she was with family," he tells her, "I'll be fine mom. I can do this."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

"Take all the time you need," the nurse told Bucky, as she led him to the room Natasha's body was in.

"Thank you," he quietly said.

She opened the door for him, and he carefully stepped inside.

He walked closer to the body on the bed. He immediately started crying at the sight of her lifeless body.

"God Nat," he cried, "I am so sorry. We never even discussed the possibility of this ever happening. I never even thought of this happening. God I don't know how I am going to ever do this alone. I never imagined myself ever raising a child alone."

He takes a moment to catch his breath.

"She's beautiful Nat, so incredibly beautiful," he tells her, "I wish you would've been able to see her. Hold her. I'm going to make sure she knows everything about you. There's not going to be a day where she doesn't know about her mother."

"When poppy season arrives I'm going to make sure to take her. Every year," he wipes away a tear, "Oh, I also named her Poppy. For you. For your mom. I promise I won't let you down. She's going to have the best life ever. I'll make sure of that. Thank-you for everything you've given me. I truly did love you. Goodbye Natasha." _________________ Age: 22

Location: CA

Year: May 2016

The car comes to a stop, parking in a spot next to a bunch of other cars. Bucky, Liz, and Steve get out of the car. Steve and Liz grab a few things from the trunk, while Bucky gets the smiley baby out of the car seat. Bucky places the baby into the stroller, Steve had gotten out. The three of them began to walk towards the field of poppies.

"Wow, there's a lot this year," Liz says, "Do you want to take her out?"

"Yeah, I'll grab her," Bucky says grabbing Poppy.

He walked ahead of Liz and Steve, taking in the moment with his daughter.

"Look at all the poppies," he whispers to the almost eight month old. She had a huge smile on her face taking in the sight around her.

She was making some babbling sounds, as if to agree with her dad.

The weather was perfect. The sun shining down on them, it wasn't too hot or too cold. Bucky just stared at the flowers, with a peaceful feeling washing over him. The last few months haven't been the easiest, but he was making it. They both were making it. Being here, gave him the reassurance that he was doing good. He could feel Natasha's presence with him there. As if she was silently saying how proud she was of him.

"We're going to be fine," he said to Poppy, placing a kiss on her head.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Hot for teacher

Professor Kim may be the hottest man to walk the planet. It was such a shame he was a pretentious asshole with the ego to match. From the moment you first walked into his philosophy lecture you knew it was not going to be a fun semester. His eyes raked across you and he smirked, from then on you became his punching bag every time no one was willing to answer his questions. He would pretend to look for someone else to call on, but he would always come back to you, seemingly taking pleasure in the way you squirmed unable to recall which philosophers he had been talking about.

After a particularly gruelling lecture, your friends decided you needed a night out. They had enough of seeing you come home and flop down onto your bed before reading every philosophy book on the reading list just to avoid the humiliation of your teachers questions again. It took some convincing on your end but eventually you find yourself in a revealing outfit, into an uber.

The destination was a bar popular with locals downtown, the uni students often avoided it because it was out of the way of the main clubs, making it perfect for your plan of quietly studying your e-books while your friends got too drunk to notice you breaking their rules. You ordered a cocktail to nurse as the girls you were with pounded a few shots before moving into a booth hidden in the corner. You didn’t see the professor enter the bar, but he saw you. Eyes once again dragging down your form, enjoying the new skin on offer while also cursing his old roommate’s choice of watering hole. He tries to concentrate on the conversation he is having with Jimin, but when your friends leave you alone in the booth his attention is drawn back to you. He watches as a couple of frat boy types seize the opportunity to descend on your now vulnerable position.

The boys squeeze into the booth, backing you into the corner. You can smell the beer on their breath as they get uncomfortably close to you. The one sat next to you puts a hand on your thigh. You wince as he pinches the exposed skin.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone in a bar this far away from campus.” He flashes what you’re sure he thinks is a charming smile and leans impossibly closer to you. You dig your nails into his hand in an attempt to make him remove it, but he just grasps tighter.

“I’m not alone, my friends are over there” your voice is weaker than you would have liked and when you glance at your friends you notice they are a little too inebriated to help you right now. The boys smirk when they see that help isn’t coming for you. Panic rises in your throat as the hand on your thigh creeps further up, pushing your dress with it.

“Excuse me gentleman, if you don’t mind, the lady will be coming with me now.” You stare up at Taehyung, trying to process where he had come from, surprised you hadn’t seen him before now. He looks intimidating even outside of the lecture hall. The frat boys falter for a second before scoffing and brushing off the interruption. Taehyung does not take well to being ignored, reaching for a beer bottle nearby and smashing it against the table. “I said she is coming with me.”

The men glance at the sharp glass in your professor’s hand and then at each other before removing themselves from the benches, evidently deciding you weren’t worth the stitches. The relief floods your system as Taehyung lowers his self-made weapon.

“Are you okay?” he questions, holding his hand out to assist you out of the booth. You take it and slide out from behind the table. Your eyes don’t leave his as you straighten your dress out.

“Why are you helping me?” you’d meant for the question to stay in your mind, but it slipped out anyway.

“I couldn’t just leave you there, what kind of man would I be if I’d let them carry on.” You shake your head a little to dispel thoughts of a potential ulterior motive and whisper your thanks. “Can I take you home miss Y/L/N.” you nod and allow him to slip an arm around your shoulder, feeling protected in his embrace. He drops you at your apartment and the incident never comes up again. In class it’s like he doesn’t know you exist for a few days before he returns to making you wriggle with difficult question. He seems to take a sick pleasure in watching you. Finally, having had enough you decide to confront him after class.

“Do you have a problem with me sir?” just the two of you remain in the classroom when you corner him.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to miss Y/L/N.”

“Y/N call me Y/N, and I think you do know. You always pick on me, you see to enjoy making me feel uncomfortable.” He takes a step towards you and you tumble back, suddenly very aware of the intimidating aura that surrounds him. You long to cower away and leave but you feel hypnotized.

“Y/N” your name sounds amazing coming from his lips. He takes a few more steps forward and you find the back of your legs pressed against his desk. His arms fall either side of you, palms resting on the desk. “Whatever problem you’ve decided I’ve got with you is purely in your head, our relationship is strictly… professional.” His gaze falls to your cleavage on the last word and you swallow thickly, suddenly very warm. “Will there be anything else?” he releases you and returns to packing his things away. Your brain was left cloudy as you stammer out a negative and flea the room, trying to straighten out what had just happened in your head. All you knew was your panties were inexplicably soaked.

A friend’s birthday brings you to yet another bar. This one much closer to campus and filled with people you knew. Still, you are uneasy after the last encounter, eyes dating around the room to ensure your safety. Not allowing anyone to back you into a corner. Every little movement puts you a little more on edge. You wait until the birthday girl is sufficiently drunk and announce your exit. To your dismay no taxis are available for the next half an hour. You consider walking for a moment, but the thought fills you with dread. Seen as all your friends are in various states of inebriation you find yourself only left with one option. You grab your phone and send out a silent prayer that he is still awake and doesn’t mind.

“Professor? Can you come get me?

It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to reach the bar, but when he pulls up, he finds another student flirting with you. In all fairness this one is being far more respectful, but it still makes his blood boil. The man trails a hand down your shoulder, and you do your best to turn him down politely. He climbs from his car and makes his way to you.

“Y/N are you ready to leave?” you are shocked to find him there with you so soon but nod anyway. The other student backs away immediately, Taehyung’s glare enough to scare anyone off as he leads you to his car. You clamber into the passenger seat and wait for him to drive you home. It’s a quiet ride, until you notice him miss the exit for the student dorms, instead heading for the teacher’s quarters.

“Sir? Where are we going?” you pulse races when you see the way he is looking at you.

“Clearly you can’t be trusted to keep yourself safe, so I thought I’d take you back to my apartment for the night, is that okay?” You nod your consent, and his free hand moves to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. You lean into the touch as he pulls softly. He soon pulls into the driveway of a small apartment complex used by newer teachers. He turns off the engine. Releasing your hair, he opens his door before coming around to help you from the car. He leads you through the front door, checking the coast is clear of other professors. He swiftly unlocks the door to his own apartment and ushers you in. you barely get a chance to look around the room before his hands are on you. He feels every curve of your body, lingering at your hips. After what seems like and age, his lips find their way to yours.

It’s the most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. Your head empties completely, consumed with only the need to get impossibly closer to him. You find yourself moaning loudly against his lips. He pulls away from you, holding your shoulders so you can’t follow him.

“Shh baby, you have to be quiet or we will get in trouble.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “You don’t want that do you.” You shake your head in response. “That’s my good girl.” You keen at the praise, desperate for him to call you that again. He kisses you again this time lifting you. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you over to a large desk to the side of his room. He places you atop the cold wood. You shiver at the change in temperature, leaning further into Taehyung for warmth. He slots in between your legs, allowing you the extra contact. His fingers trail up your thighs and settle against your damp panties.

“So wet already… is it all for me baby? Or did that college boy do it for you? Did you get turned on by his shameless flirting while you were waiting for me?” his tone is teasing but it makes you whimper, worried he was displeased with you.

“Only you Taehyung, all for you” your voice is whiny as you grind into his hand, desperate for some friction.

“Sir… you will call me Sir.” He removes the pressure from your core and undoes his belt.

“Yes sir.” Your eyes are glued to his waist, mouth dry as he pulls the leather away from his pants. The movement is agonisingly slow.

“Good girl.” He purrs watching as you bask in the praise. “whose good girl?”

“Yours sir, always yours” he pulls your face up to meet his, kissing you as a reward for your good behaviour. You savour his sweet taste. He grips your hair and drags you backwards.

“On your knees.” You slide from the desk with no hesitation and open your mouth expectantly. He chuckles at your eager response. Petting your messy hair before unsheathing himself. Your mouth water instantly, a comfortable width and above average length. He is staring down at you, holding himself ready for you. Nothing in your life could have prepared you for how turned on this man would make you. You lurch forward, licking precoma from the tip of his throbbing cock. He tsks at you.

“So impatient Y/N, good girls should wait for their reward.”You sit back on your heels and wait for him to tell you it's okay sad that you've disappointed him. He strokes your hair again head nods letting you know it's okay to begin. Eagerly you wrap your lips around the head letting your hands cover the base where your throat won't reach. You run your tongue along a vein on the underside of his shaft. He quivers at the sensation hands burying deep within your hair.

You smile to yourself knowingly, loving that you were able to cause him pleasure. It's not long before his grasp is forcing you to take him deeper gag as he pushes you past your limits deeper and deeper onto his cock you struggled to breathe through your nose. He feels your throat constrict in protest but doesn't release you.

“Just a little longer” you feel him tense on your tongue trying to hold back his orgasm and you suck harder. Before you can make him cum, he removes himself from your mouth and you mourn the loss. You take the time to catch your breath as he helps you stand pressing his lips back on yours roughly. This time he lifts you and carries you into his bedroom throwing you onto the bed joining you quickly. He straddles you and pulls your dress over your head. He also makes quick work of your underwear, losing them somewhere in the corner of his room as he throws them away. He trails his mouth down your naked form hesitating before diving into your core.

He peppers your thighs with kisses, His warm breath mixing with the cold of your slick making you shiver as he edges closer and closer to where you need him the most. Soon Helix slowly up your slit hovering above your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch your back at the contact. His fingers soon join the assault, two slipping within you. As he pumped them finding the rough spot inside you, you feel the high in your stomach building embarrassingly quick. While he works hard to get you off your moans get a little too loud again and he slaps your thigh reminding you to be quiet. You bite down on your hand trying desperately not to scream as he brings you to climax. He continues until you're at the point of overstimulation enjoying the small whimpers that make their way past the barricade of your hand.

Once he decides that you are stimulated enough, he makes his way back up to your face. You grasp on to his shoulders needing the contact of his well chiselled form. Soon you feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You worry that it will hurt from the overstimulation brought on by your previous orgasm, but you can't find that within you to voice your concern only wanting to please him. He slowly pushes into you. You clench around him at the intrusion, feeling overly full. He gives you barely enough time to adjust before starting to thrust, no longer able to hold himself back. You grasp the bed sheets to keep you steady as he sets an unrelenting speed in search of his high. His eyes on yours, boring into you intensely, daring you to see what would happen if you looked away from him or made a sound. Your mesmerized by the concentration on his face, drawn in by everything about him. He cums deep inside of you, burying himself as much as he could until his dick stopped spasming.

“Are you okay, baby?” is the first thing out of his mouth when he comes to. You nod and his mouth twists into a boxy grin. “That’s my good girl.” You cuddle into his side sleepily and try not to focus on what will happen when you next attend one of his lectures.

Masterlist

Other works on these prompts - closed

Holiday requests - open

[collecting-stories]

One Sunset - c. 08 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Your birthday keeps getting closer.

A/N: Two more chapters to go! 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ Oh, my love, she waits, so long overdue ✰

The baby, Hope, the youngest, so far, of your sister’s six children, was propped on your hip. Clingy, she pressed her face against your collar, head tucked in your neck as you bounced just slightly from foot to foot. She‘s been crying when Esther handed her off, a passing comment that “there was something different about you” as she rejoined the conversation your older siblings were having. You carried Hope outside when the fussing started again, threatening to interrupt your father’s reading from the bible before dinner. She wasn’t the youngest of all the babies there, Jubilee’s son took that honor, being just three months, but Hope was the most restless.  

“You used to be like that,” your mother teased, coming out to bring you a bottle for Hope as she squirmed in your lap. You’d settled with sitting under the tree in the yard, letting your niece tear through the grass.  

“Destructive?” You asked, looking up through the sunlight to her.  

Ever since JJ had mentioned the possibility of leaving you had been thinking about what it would look like when you were gone. Knowing what was in store if you stayed, you had given leaving your mom and dad a lot of thought anyway. It would be just them in the house, plenty of grandchildren to take care of but just the two of them at night when everyone else went home. You would miss it, but it was these moments, so rare now that you were the last left in the house, that you would miss most of all.  

“Restless, unsatisfied.” The adjective stung when she said it, as if she resented the trait even in a baby. “The minute you were steady on your feet, you used to take off.”  

“Maybe I was just curious about everything around me?” You suggested, that bizarre fear that she knew something settling in your stomach. It was the same queasy feeling you used to get when you were little and you would lie, certain your mother would know.  

She nodded, though it was not in agreement, “and what does the bible say about that?”

“And he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power.” You replied, all too familiar with the warning verse that your mother had kept taped to your bedroom mirror as a child, a reminder that your curiosity was as much a sin as anything else.  

“That’s right, we don’t need to concern ourselves with other, worldly things.” She replied.  

“I don’t think Hope is concerned with anything other than appreciating God’s creation,” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, as you looked down at Hope sill pulling at the grass and then staring in wonder at her dirty hands.  

“I’m not talking about Hope, I found a…very revealing outfit tucked under your bed along with a sweatshirt I’ve never seen in the house before.” She said, playing her cards. She did know something she wasn’t letting on, just as you had suspected. It was better than you thought, something you could play off easily.  

“They’re Kiara’s. She wore the dress on Sunday and I told her it was too revealing for church so she came in and changed. And the sweatshirt is her…boyfriend’s, she had it with her.” You lied. The dress was the one that JJ bought for you. For almost three weeks, since he’d first suggested it, you had been packing and unpacking a duffel bag, certain that you wanted to go but then unsure at the same time.  

Your mother’s observation of you was probably right, you were restless. They had raised you the same way they raised your siblings and yet, nothing about the church seemed to comfort you. It made you discontent just exist in the space sometimes but you had always assumed it was because of some deep fault of your own. Some sin you weren’t consciously aware of that ensnared you. Restlessness would follow you forever, it felt like. But then you’d never felt restless with JJ or Kiara or Pope. You never felt like you were trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for you.  

“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” The tone was back, the disapproving one that silently conveyed the underlying meaning of her sentence. If your mom had known, she would not have let her hang around.  

“He’s very religious too. I think he goes to a non-denominational church,” you lied, pulling Hope’s dirty hands away from the hem of your dress.  

You had come outside with Hope because you wanted to be alone. Her crying was the perfect excuse to separate yourself from the rest of your family but then your mom had followed you out here, determined, it felt like, to deny you any moment alone.

“Your good with the kids,” she ventured, “It’ll only be a couple of years before you’re having little ones of your own.”  

“That’s what Esther said when she handed me Hope.” You replied lifting the baby with you as you stood up. There was no point in trying to hold onto your attempts at relaxation. Babies had been all your mother wanted to talk about since Timothy’s visit to the house. She couldn’t stop herself from mentioning your future imaginary family. “How did you and dad know you wanted to have kids?”

“We prayed and fasted and the Lord answered us by giving us Faith and I knew then that he was telling me to leave my womb in his hands.” She replied as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the response, “How many kids you have is something you’ll have to talk about with Timothy but God will guide you.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shifted Hope in your arms as she babbled, her dirty hands gripping your cardigan.  

Maybe JJ lying to you should have been the push that you needed to embrace this idea of Timothy and Zambia and the twelve children he was probably going to expect you to have. It should’ve put you back on the path of the Lord, that “most righteous” path, as your father called it during Sunday service. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just close off the part of you that loved JJ so much that you considered running away with him. He had lied but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that all of it was a lie. There were parts of it, you were certain, that had to be true. You had been thinking about him since you left John B’s.  

“What if...” you chanced, beginning to walk back to the house with your mom, “what if Timothy isn’t who I’m meant to be with?”

“Why do you say that?” Your mom asked, stopping. She didn’t look surprised or even bothered by what you thought sounded like your usual restlessness.  

“I just think...what if I’m not a good enough wife?”

“You have to pray, and have faith in the Lord and in your husband that they will guide you down that path and help you to learn how to serve your household.” She answered.  

Hope started fussing again and your mom took her from you, proclaiming that it was most likely time for a feeding and heading back inside with her. She called over her shoulder for you to check the church, the light in the nave was on. You wanted to thank her for the moment alone but then she might’ve stuck around and questioned you further.

You walked to the church, pulling the old wooden door open and heading inside to turn off the lights in the vestibule. Your father was known to forget and leave them on and you were sure that your mother thought sending you was some subtle way of telling you that you needed to reconnect with Jesus through prayer. You weren’t so sure that was what you needed but you would take the moment alone that you had been trying to get the first time you went outside.  

Before you could hit the light switch you noticed the familiar army green backpack leaning against one of the back pews. You hadn’t seen JJ since you left John B’s house but that was his backpack, sitting in the middle aisle. There wasn’t any reason for JJ’s bag to be in the church but you walked toward it anyway, curious as to its existence in that space at that moment.  

The bag, you quickly discovered, was not without its owner. JJ laid there on the bench, asleep, from what you could tell, his lip split and a horrifying bruise under his left eye. You knelt down by the edge of the pew, brushing his hair away from his face so you could see him better. Just the sight of him had your heart pounding.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you whispered, laying your hand on his arm. “JJ.”

He groaned, shifting on the pew before opening his eyes slowly, a smile gracing his features as he saw you there in front of him, the cut on his lip bleeding slightly at the motion. “Hey Ace.”

“JJ, what happened?” You asked, moving to sit next to him as he sat up. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive with him, considering what John B had told you, but all you could think about was the bruising on his face. You’d seen less noticeable bruising before that JJ had always brushed off and maybe it was unrelated but your mind was drawing connections as you looked him over, noting the large purplish mark peeking out from the arm of the cut-off shirt he was wearing.  

“Nothing,” he swore, shaking his head and shifting away from you slightly. “I’m sorry, I just needed to crash for a few hours.”  

When you reached for him again and he moved back, you felt an ache. He looked battered and you didn’t care about what sort of bet he made, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that for the last few days you had been thinking about him. “JJ, please, tell me what happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours before he could stop you.  

“I fucked up everything.” He replied, leaning back against the pew and closing his eyes. “I didn’t...I should’ve told you about-”

-

Despite Pope’s attempts to reason with him, to remind him that the last person on earth you probably wanted to see was him, JJ couldn’t stop himself from moving forward with his original plan. He had offered you a way out and, whether you wanted it with him or at all, he was going to come through on that promise. He loved you and maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to Tennessee.  

JJ almost never went home but he did a few nights after you had run off, after Kiara told him that you’d come to see her, he went back home again to get the keys for his dad’s boat. Luke always kept the keys on him and JJ hadn’t actually been on the boat since he was a little kid. The first time he had smoked weed when he was twelve and his cousin took him on the Phantom for a joy ride down the coast to buy some specially cut stuff from a friend of a friend. He had let JJ smoke it on the way home and the probably broken rib that he’d suffered the week before suddenly didn’t hurt half as bad.  

He wasn’t stealing the keys for a joyride this time though. He was stealing keys to get you as far away from the Outer Banks as he could. Pope had reasoned that you hadn’t really ever made up your mind and that by now you had probably definitely decided not to go off with some guy on a whim, but JJ had to believe you were still leaning toward going with him.  

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” Luke chided, sitting at his work bench. If there was anything that JJ knew about his father, it was that Luke could sit in front of his work table all day and nothing would ever actually get done.  

“I’m only here to grab some stuff.”  

If he said nothing, it caused an issue. If he said something, it caused an issue. JJ had spent enough years in his father’s home to know that it didn’t matter what he did, if Luke was in a mood then there was nothing, he could do to avoid it. And usually, he would just make his visit a short one but he needed that key and that key was hanging off his dad’s neck.  

It took Luke a couple beers and a trip down to Barry’s trailer before he confronted JJ’s return home with more than a snide remark. It started off with shouting about the electric bill when he tried to hit the light switch in the living room and realized that the darkness was unescapable. And that, of course, like all the other bad things that existed in his life, was JJ’s fault.  

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to do something before you actually do it?” He screamed, a string of insults following that would stay trapped in JJ’s head for what would arguably be the rest of his life. The rage was just what JJ needed though, his dad was erratic, distracted, and close enough that when he shoved JJ against the wall and tried to choke him, the key was in reach.  

He had the key and when he finally got his dad off him, he ran for the door, grabbing his bag and running through the woods. Still not talking to John B, he knew there weren’t too many places for him to go. He stayed on the beach for a while but then moved on, heading to the one place he knew he wasn’t technically welcome. JJ had seen your family’s cars in the yard and had ducked into the church, falling asleep on one of the pews.  

It wasn’t like you could’ve contacted him, you had no phone and you couldn’t exactly get away easily during the day and maybe that was what made it so easy for him to convince himself that he wasn’t beyond forgiveness. He needed to talk to you, had wanted to for days now. He needed to explain things to you, make you understand that he did love you and the bet was stupid, a mistake that he wanted to take back more than anything in the world.  

-

“JJ, I don’t care about any of that right now,” you said, brushing hair away from his face. “What happened?”

He sat up a little, pulling the makeshift necklace out beneath his shirt, the keys to the Phantom hanging there around his neck. “I got the keys.” He replied, “I don’t know if you even would still want to go, but I got the keys.”  

“Is that how this happened?” You asked, eyes still on his bruised face and not the keys he was holding up.  

“It doesn’t matter-”

You cut him off, “it does matter, JJ-”

“No.” He insisted, “no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to base anything on feeling bad for me.” JJ had spent his whole life trying to make sure that nobody felt bad for him. Sympathy, charity, pity, it was all just fake and he hated it. He did everything he could to be sure that no one ever knew what kind of father Luke was because he never wanted them to look at him like he was broken.  

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You admitted, kissing his cheek.  

JJ didn’t protest the affection, though he wanted to laugh. Here he was with you worrying about him, telling him that you didn’t want to see him hurt while he had hurt you. For days he felt like he had been plagued by that moment, replaying the way you looked at him when you asked him if John B was telling the truth. Kiara told him to give you space and Pope told him to take things slowly but all he wanted was to be with you again, to make everything right.  

“You shouldn’t even want to talk to me right now.” He said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  

“My propensity for forgiveness might surprise you.” You teased, then shrugged, “I don’t think that you lied to me about...about being in love with me,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you spoke, “I mean, I hope not-”

“I wasn’t.” JJ replied. “If Sarah hadn’t bet me to ask you out, I wouldn’t have, but everything else was real. I know I should’ve told you...I just, didn’t want you to look at me the way you did after John B told you. Everyone else already looks at me that way, I didn’t want you to. I’m so sorry.” It seemed like the only logical thing to say to you.  

The door to the chapel creaked open and JJ slid down to the floor as you stood up, moving down the aisle to keep whoever it was out of the church. Your dad stood there at the entrance, holding the door open with his foot as he caught sight of you. “There you are, your mom sent me out to find you, she said she asked you to turn the lights out here.”

“I was,” you replied, moving closer to him, “I just, stopped for a moment to sit in prayer.” An easy lie, one your parents were always all too willing to believe.  

He nodded, “do you need another moment? Some fellowship?”  

“No, no, I’m okay.” You promised. “I’ll be right there.”

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped back out of the church. You knew he’d be just on the other side of the door, waiting for you to turn off the lights and follow him in for dinner. Knowing the limited amount of time you had, you ran back down the aisle to where JJ was just standing up.  

JJ’s eyes went wide as you grabbed his collar and quickly pulled him into a kiss, “I have dinner with my family, come to my room tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah okay.”

As you left him you flicked the lights casting him in darkness as he dropped back down onto the bench, a small smile etched on his face. He’d come to the church because he needed to be close to you, especially after his encounter with Luke. But JJ had honestly thought that things between you were irreparable. Knowing they weren’t felt better than he could’ve imagined. Like he was floating above clouds. Stupid to think maybe but he didn’t care.  

-

JJ’s muscles tensed as you traced your fingers beneath a nasty purple bruise that stretched across his stomach to his side. You leaned over him, hovering like a ghost in the stillness, and placed a kiss just over the discolored skin, eliciting goosebumps over his skin.  

He stayed camped out in the chapel until the lights went off in the house and your family left for the night. There were too many smaller units these days to accommodate everyone when they came home to visit but your father was friends with a local motel owner who always gave him a good deal. JJ had tried to stay alert and awake but he’d fallen asleep, getting up later when the lights were off and sneaking across the yard to your window, knocking and hoping that you answered. That you meant it when you said you still believed he loved you.  

Your parents were asleep down the hall from your room and he knew that trying anything would be risky and dangerous but being back in your room again since the last time, since he’d slept with you, it was almost as if a switch went off for both of you. He climbed through the window and was already grabbing at your waist, pulling you into a kiss as you led him to your bed.  

He breathed out apologies and “I love you’s” between kisses, making sure that he took every opportunity to remind you both how sorry he was and how much he had missed being close to you in the few days apart. JJ had tried to tell himself that if you chose to stay with your family, he would be okay and understanding and he would force himself to be but he knew that he was lying to himself, if things ended between the two of you, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. Maybe that was unhealthy but he really didn’t care at all.  

“I was thinking, we could go to Florida,” you said, keeping your voice down as you sat on the bed, JJ’s shirt keeping you warm. He was laying on his back, covers pushed down to his waist, one hand behind his head and the other resting on your thigh.  

“Why Florida?” He asked.  

In all honesty it wasn’t that Florida was anything particularly special it was just that you were trying your hardest to think of anything to say so you didn’t start crying. When you’d seen him in the church earlier you had almost lost it and that was with only his face visible. The bruising on his stomach and sides made you feel ill. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to go to South Beach.”  

JJ grinned, hand squeezing your thigh, “you on a topless beach? Yes, please.”

“How about I conquer a two piece before I attempt going topless?” You joked, taking his hand in yours.  

“I don’t know, you look pretty hot...” he said, moving his other hand from behind his head and grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up passed your chest. You swatted his hand away, stifling a laugh. The sound of it made him smile though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, that flicker of sadness still there behind them. There was nothing he wanted more than being here with you but he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt that settled in.  

“What’s the matter?” You asked, registering the change in his demeanor before he was even fully aware of it himself.  

“Nothing, I-” he sighed, shifting around to sit up in bed, “I should have told you. About the bet, about my dad. I just...I know, under the surface, I’m not the most likable person. I’m loud and I smoke too much and I drink too much and I’m not that smart and I just...really wanted you to like me. So I didn’t say anything. And I know that’s not an excuse-”

“JJ,” you cut him off, “I was mad that you lied and didn’t tell me about the bet but that doesn’t change the way that I feel about you. And it doesn’t change the way I know you feel about me.” It was hard to explain, it had been hard to explain to Kiara when you had shown up crying at her house, but you didn’t think that JJ was lying to you about the whole of your relationship. He said he loved you and you believed him, there wasn’t a single moment that felt unreal to you in that sense, whether he had asked you out because of a bet or not. “You said you only asked me out because of the bet but everything else was real and I believe you.”

“I don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”  

“Stop trying to sell yourself short.” You replied, leaning forward to kiss him, “it won’t work.”

Before he could answer you, the floor creaked and the you both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded down the hall. The light by your desk was still on and the footsteps came to a stop outside your bedroom door, a knock sounding, followed by your dad’s voice. “Ace, you awake in there?”  

You pulled JJ’s shirt off, grabbing your nightdress and putting it on as you got off the bed and went over to the door. “Yeah, hold on!” You were thankful that the door opened in, obscuring the twin bed from view. “Sorry, I was having trouble sleeping so I was just up reading some verses.” You lied.  

“Hmm,” your dad nodded, easily convinced, “what were you reading?”

“1st Peter, 4...uh, ‘and above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Just felt like something I really needed tonight.” You replied.  

“That is a good one,” he contemplated, “I told your mom I’ve been a little stuck on the sermon for this coming weekend...it’s a big one, with Timothy’s family visiting and your birthday. But maybe I’ll put some focus on that verse, see if the Lord speaks to me about it.”  

“I’ll pray on it as well,” you promised, twisting the doorknob in your hand as you waited for your father to decide to head back to bed.  

“I’m just grabbing some water, do you need anything?” He asked, looking toward the kitchen.  

“No, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a hug, “love you, see you in the morning.”

“Love you too Ace,” he said, leaving you and heading to the kitchen.  

You shut the door to your room, blocking out the rest of the world again and nearly jumping when you turned and found JJ standing right there beside you. “My dad could’ve seen you,” you whispered, pushing him away when he tried to wrap his arms around you.  

“He didn’t.” JJ replied, voice low. His hand darted out from his side, grabbing the front of your nightdress before you could get away, using the leverage it gave him to pull you back to the bed. He flicked the light off on your desk lamp on the way to the bed, sitting when the back of his knees hit the mattress.  

“What are you doing?” you asked when he started to pull the nightdress over your head again.  

“Undressing you.”  

“JJ,” you fought a smile, biting your bottom lip, “you need to go...that was way too close.”  

He pouted in the dark, letting your nightdress fall back into place as he laid his hands on your hips. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can walk to Heyward’s in the afternoon?” You offered. “Timothy and his family will be here on Wednesday...”

“When’s the party?” He asked, trying not to let himself dwell on the actual question, were you staying or were you going?  

“Saturday evening...I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. It was leaving home either way but one of those included the possibility of never speaking to your family again.  

“It’s your decision. I love you, either way.” JJ promised.  

-

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[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 5

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Sorry this took so long. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The night was cool, despite the sun’s remnants still radiating from the cobblestone roads like a thin blanket, the heat spreading up Henry’s legs as he and Vinicius made their way to a matte black Ashton Martin Vanquish, the car looking as though it had just rolled out of the dealership.

“Spending wisely, I see,” Henry smiled, taking in the car with an appreciation he shared with most mortal men. While it wasn’t a sturdy black stallion, it would certainly do the trick.

“It was a birthday present from Lucy, I had no say in the matter.” Vinicius answered with an equally cheeky grin, unlocking the car with a push of a button, the engine roaring to life simultaneously. It was only once the doors opened that Henry noticed Gregory sitting in the back seat, looking around anxiously, like a junkie looking for a fix.

“I’m afraid he’s still famished. Nearly emptied the vaults of A+, and yet he’s still ready to bite the first thing that moves,” Vinicius explained, nodding towards Gregory, who barely acknowledged him before turning in his seat to look over his shoulder, watching for anything that could pass as food.

“So m’lord, tonight we go hunting for your first real meal!” Vinicius announced as he looked through the rear-view mirror at Gregory.

“I’ve hunted before,” Gregory replied in a defensive, whiny tone, his gaze showing his confusion. In that moment, Henry read the young vampire’s thoughts and had to discreetly move his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Hunting, for Gregory, had consisted of going to a nightclub and picking up the most self-conscious girl there. Their new elder hadn’t even bothered to try and pose her in a way that would keep the Carabinieri from asking questions. It was amateur at best, and Henry was certain Gregory’s victim hadn’t gone to her death in ecstasy. 

“Not the proper way. Not even close,” Henry smirked, sharing a knowing grin with Vinicius as the Vanquish sprinted out of the city center, heading North towards the vineyards.

Once clear of the light pollution, Vinicius eased his foot off the accelerator, preferring to take the two-lane roads at a more leisurely pace, something which, judging from how fidgety he was being, was pure torture for Gregory. 

“What have you lined up for us tonight, oh Master of Feasts?” Henry joked as Vinicius began to look around, watching as much for buildings as he was for the road. It didn’t take long for him to find the farmhouse, the small amount of light coming from the dwelling's windows confirming that it was a family owned vineyard they would be enjoying. Henry could hardly keep the grin off his face.

“Lesson number one, Gregory. If you are going to feed on a human, do so with discretion. Pick wisely, and choose only the sweetest of bloodlines.” Henry explained as they veered off the road and onto a gravel laneway.

“And never drink them dry. That’s the easiest way of getting ill.” Vinicius added, glaring jokingly at Henry, both having gone through the undead equivalent of the stomach flu when they were newly-turned. 

As Vinicius pressed a button on the dash, Henry heard a sudden whoosh of air spill from the tire in front of him. Briefly shocked, his smile grew into one of awe and mischief as he realized why Vinicius had kept such a present.

“You fiend! What else does this contraption do?” Henry laughed, knowing that they now had a verifiable excuse to ask for aid. Shaking his head, he could only chuckle as the car came to a slow stop and Vinicius cut the engine.

“We have a flat. Come on boys, it looks like there’s help just up the drive,” Vinicius smirked, motioning for the other two vampires to follow him.

Vinicius exhaled deeply, invigorated by the fresh blood he’d just pulled from the now-limp girl in his lap. Looking around, he found their new Elder still suckling from a hearty old man—the owner of the vineyard—and Henry looking down at the seemingly-sleeping form of the wife that he’d just drunk from.

With a sharp look to his oldest friend, Vinicius pointed out Gregory’s quickly-approaching error. Eyes narrowed, Henry waited until the last possible moment before sweeping in and yanking the man’s body out of Gregory’s grip, a move which was met with understandable hostility and a hiss of aggression. 

“I wasn’t finished!” Gregory lamented, standing and wobbling a bit as the blood coursed through his veins, shooting straight up to his head. 

“You would have been if you’d kept drinking any longer,” Henry answered, shaking his head. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get a stomach ache. If you’d kept on and tried to drink her dry, you might very well find yourself in the ground next to her…permanently.” He explained. No vampire to his knowledge had ever tried to drain a meal, but the warning had been there as long as he’d been a creature of the night, and Henry wasn’t about to take the risk of finding out when the vampire in question was the head of the Roman coven. 

“Good stock.” Henry commended Vinicius on his choice of victims, both men ignoring Gregory’s silent thoughts regarding how they could wipe out an entire family so easily. It was natural for a young vampire, especially one thrust into such an important position, to question the nature of how they came about their food. While many newly-turned preferred to stick with the donation system, those born before the 1900’s were accustomed to feeding from the source. It was imperative for Gregory to become accustomed to both, especially since he would be parlaying with the heads of other covens, most of whom expected the luxury of a fresh meal whenever meetings were held or visits were made. Though it was still too early to tell, Henry didn’t foresee Gregory’s initial reaction being any sort of hindrance to his rule. 

“Dessert is back at the house, so if you two don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.” Vinicius announced, getting up and all but throwing the poor girl to the ground, stepping over her as one would step over litter on a sidewalk as he made his way to the front door.

Gregory's fidgeting only increased on the way home, his mind filtering through both Vinicius and Henry at the speed of sound, most of them relating to food or his fear of being prosecuted for murder. The two older vampires smiled, both restraining their laughter at the new vampire's paranoia and hunger.

"Don't worry. We're untouchable." Henry smirked, allowing the thought to filter into Gregory’s mind so subtly that it would seem like his own idea. He watched in the fold-down mirror as their new Elder’s anxiety diminished, allowing him to slump back against the seat and actually relax for a moment.

Almost as soon as they arrived, Gregory was accosted by no less than six coven members, all of them offering their fealty in the form of gifts, all of them desperate to get on their new Elder’s good side, lest they incur his wrath. In a flash, he was being made comfortable; fresh blood, warmed to perfection, a luxuriant housecoat and the finest tobacco. Like any new child in a household, he was being spoiled, something which would only make Henry’s job of teaching him that much harder. It was bad enough he had to walk a newly-formed vampire through the ways of his new life; to do it with one who would be ruling over all of Italy for the next 100 years would be near-torture. 

The older he grew, the less patience he had for new vampires. Though he did his best to stay in tune with society and culture as it progressed at faster and faster speeds, having to put up with the endless questions, insatiable hunger, and now the endless fixation for social media would be trying for even the most saintly person. It was one of the many reasons he could never be convinced to sire his own fledglings. 

Finding the whole scene distasteful and feeling a touch jealous of the boy, Henry turned on his heel and headed back out into the night, his mind venturing back to a time not long after his own immortal birth, when he was still ravenous and wild.

Four years had simultaneously been an eternity and a single moment. Through it all, his hunger had never abated. Romans who dared live in the darker recesses, or outside the city gates knew to fear the creature that came unbidden in the night. The one who left nothing but terror and blood in his wake. Prayers were useless, as were offerings. Even sacrifices to the gods did nothing to keep him at bay. 

The hunger ruled his every waking hour and removed any notion of sanity, allowing him to commit unspeakable atrocities to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the domos he entered. He drank five to seven bodies’ worth a night, sometimes more if any of them were particularly small. Man, woman, child; It made no difference. They were all massacred, left in pieces, ripped limb from limb in his blind need for satiation. 

When the high of drinking his fill wore off--and it wore off quickly--Herminius inevitably found himself sickened by what he’d done. Many tears were shed over the corpses of those he’d sent to Charon, a litany of apologies whispered over bits of hair and skin before the hunger invariably took over once more, the ache in his belly unquellable.

Night after night, he scoured his birthplace, looking for those who were already near death’s door, those too feeble to cause a scene when his teeth sank into their flesh. More often than not, their blood did little to satisfy, and he would be forced to find a family of young, healthy, Romans to feast upon. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle that Herminius thought would be nearly impossible to break. At his most desperate, he attempted to end his existence, but not a single method he attempted did anything other than temporarily open his immortal vessel. 

When it became clear that Rome was no longer a safe haven, Herminius wormed his way into the hull of a ship heading for Alexandria. By the time it reached the Pearl of the Mediterranean, he was the sole inhabitant of the vessel. Though he’d learned some restraint on the voyage, being in a new city seemed only to amplify his need for blood.

Herminius had only been in Alexandria a few nights when Caesar’s men--his former brothers--set the port alight, maligning any chance of him returning to his beloved Rome without further risk to his life. His maker had only taught him one lesson, and it was one which made travel nearly impossible for one such as himself:

The sun is your death. 

Homesick and famished, Herminius watched as the library of the great jewel burned along with the port, the vast knowledge turned to mere ash by the carelessness of men he’d once fought alongside of. He wondered if any of his brothers had given any thought to what they were doing or, if like him, they’d thrown themselves headlong into the task with blind fury. Though they were now two very different animals, seeing the glee on their faces eased his guilt some; at the base level, all people were bloodthirsty creatures.

His hunger eased some that night at hearing the cries of anguish from learned men who were forced to watch as their life’s work disappeared before their eyes. By the time the fire was extinguished, nearly half the library had been engulfed, tiny scraps of papyrus floating through the air like the snow in Gaul that had so marveled some of his brothers.

He drank from only one soul that night, that of a young prostitute. Unlike the madness of meals past, where anger and desire coursed through him in equal measure, this time, Herminius sought only to drink and enjoy the nubile woman beneath him. For the first time, he heard the sweet music of pleasure come from his prey, her body writhing, begging him for more. Piercing her neck with his teeth as he pierced her core with his cock, Herminius made the girl sing. Her slim figure trembled in his arms as he slowly drank, fingers pressing her down until he felt the familiar ripple of delight sprint its way up her back. 

She took no note of the blood streaming down her neck as he moved his lips down to her small breast, nipping gently until he found the perfect place once more. Sinking his teeth in brought another moan from the girl, Herminius smiling as he drank what little there was left of her. Her final breath came as he spilled his impotent seed, unlatching from her breast just as she went limp in his arms. 

Setting the girl down, Herminius covered her and quietly slipped out the window, feeling solace for the first time since he himself was bitten.

A few patrons still lingered at Romulus when he entered, and though it was accidental, Henry couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction when his scowl had them all scampering for their belongings, not one of them making eye contact as they headed for the door. 

“Wow, you sure know how to clear a room,” the bartender smirked as she dried a row of shot glasses, unphased by her other customers’ quick exits. 

“It’s a gift,” Henry murmured, taking a seat in front of her, still feeling the barbs of anger pushing into every fiber of his being. 

“Long night?” She asked, ducking her head a bit to try and catch his gaze. Henry finally looked up, feeling the edge begin to dull on his mood as he was met with a warm, open smile. 

“You could say that. Glass of the old stuff with a splash of bourbon, if you please,” Henry requested, jerking his chin towards the wall behind her, pointing at the bottles of Sanguinem that held a place of high regard among the other booze.

“You and your buddies are real fond of this stuff, huh? I’m not sure I get the appeal,” Carla chuckled, shaking her head as she got everything ready to go. 

“There’s a certain…generation of us that grew up having sips of it. It became an old habit.” Henry explained, giving her a wink, his smile growing as he saw a blush flood Carla’s cheeks.

He fell silent as he watched her prepare the drink, intrigued when Carla took a shot of the sanguinem before looking over her ingredients. Eyes narrowed, she chose carefully. Henry was hooked as he watched her light a few Cloves until they smoked, quickly turning what he assumed would be his glass over the smoldering herb and a sprig of Thyme before allowing the glass to cloud with the white plume. In her shaker, she put the sanguinem and his requested shot of bourbon, sprinkling cinnamon on top before shaking it up, knowing better than to add ice, as she’d yet to see any of the patrons who ordered it ask for it on the rocks. Finally, she turned the glass over, quickly pouring the drink into it and trapping the smoke in amongst the alcohol. 

“I present to you, the Caligula. Get it, ‘cause the sanguinem tastes like blood?” She beamed, taking a joking bow before watching Henry take his first sip. 

Before he could even let the liquid touch his tongue, the scene brought him back to the Rome of old, Henry’s eyes closing of their own volition as he drank. Savoring it, he did his best not to swoon, memories of meals past coming back as though he’d just finished them, the flavor bringing back with it memories that actually made him smile. 

When he finally came to, Henry’s expression had softened into one of wonder and appreciation. Staring into Carla’s eyes, he felt something he had felt in ages; attraction. Without allowing his mind to crawl into the decrepit place it usually went when it came to any sort of relationship outside of friendship, Henry let his mouth and heart do the work. 

“Carla,” he read her name tag, “my name is Henry, and you, bellissima, have just created the only way I’ll take this drink for the rest of my life.”

[jpegjade]

When the Party’s Over - Spencer

WHY IS THIS THE LONGEST THING IVE WRITTEN???? probably bc drunk me is wordy. i do talk a lot when i’m drunk and it gets on people’s nerves. i just really love you guys. i was sad when i wrote this, really sad, and it’s the first “smut”???? ive ever written. so here we go frens and ferns. 

warnings: uuuhhhh smut???

________________

When the night started, you were at Rossi’s house, getting drunk with the team. It was right after a hard case, difficult on everyone’s psyche so Rossi invited everyone over to relax in the usual way. After pasta and drinks, most of the team was still there while Spencer offered to drive you home since you were not in the shape to drive and he was the only one who opted for water instead of alcohol. He was beat but he wasn’t in the mood to drink tonight. 

Spencer was being a good friend but he had his motives. He wanted to talk to you in the car. You weren’t so drunk that you wouldn’t remember the conversation but your inhibitions were lowered enough to be truly and completely honest with him so you were the slightest bit tipsy but not drunk. You were 100% lucid and could think for yourself but you took the excuse to drink some of the smirnoff you brought and keep going. 

He wasn’t planning for it to happen like this but you were being very outspoken to everyone at the party so he figured it was time to get you home before you were out of a job after calling Hotch, “Hotchner the Grouch.” They found it funny but Spencer knew that you could go wrong easily. 

“Spencer Reid.” You said, staring at him. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be as honest as I’m being right now.” 

“Okay. I promise to be honest.” Spencer said, a little nervous. He chuckled anyway because you were so adamant that he answered honestly. 

“Do you like me?” You asked, suddenly very serious. 

“Y/n, you’re my best friend. Of course I like you.” Spencer tried to give you an answer that wouldn’t expose his real thoughts. 

For the past few months, Spencer thought about you a lot. It caused him to avoid you a little bit but you wouldn’t let him stray too far away from you. You kept texting him outside of the team group chat. You continued inviting him over for dinner. You never relented on checking in with his mental health. You never gave up on your relationship with him. 

 You were so focused on his jawline that your hand worked by itself, poking his face. He smiled and made the turn into your apartment complex’s parking lot and parked. 

“While I appreciate the validation of our friendship, that’s not what I mean and you know it.” You said, very serious. 

Spencer looked over at you, nervous to answer. He swallowed and took a shaky breath. 

“Y/n, is it really important?” Spencer tried to avoid the conversation. 

He opened the door and got out, walking quickly around to your side of the car to open the door. He didn’t have to but he wanted to. It’s always what he did. 

“Yes, it’s important, Spencer. I want to know.�� You bumped shoulders with him as the two of you walked to your apartment on the third floor. 

Spencer sighed. 

“Yes, I like you. A lot…” You and Spencer arrived at your door, handing you your keys. 

You just stood there, staring up at Spencer. You reached up to touch his hair. It was so soft… You wrapped your fingers around one of the curls and smiled. Spencer stood there, nose ghosting over yours. 

“Do you want to come in?” It was barely audible but it was there. 

“I shouldn’t. You’re not sober. Unless you just want to hang out.” He said, looking at his wing tip shoes. 

“Spencer, get in here. I have literally been waiting almost a whole year for you to say that.” You pulled him to you by his tie and kissed him. 

*****

It was tentative at first. It tasted like spearmint gum. Spencer wasn’t chewing any at the moment so you guessed that he had been chewing it earlier. You liked that. It was refreshing. Slowly, Spencer got more comfortable with the kiss and relaxed and got more involved. It was sweet and gentle and soft. You felt his hands in your hair and felt the gentle pull and you released an involuntary moan. You could feel Spencer smile, the two of you momentarily breaking apart. 

Breaking apart left you speechless and in a daze. It was almost like you were in a fog but your head was clear. You were more than ready to do what you had been thinking about with Spencer for the past year. Some part of you needed this release while the other part of you needed him. 

“So inside?” You said. “The apartment, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” Spencer said, just as dazed.

Getting in the door was a task by itself. You and Spencer tried to go in at the same time and it was quite awkward but he let you go in first. 

You closed the door behind you, pressing your back to the cold surface. Scanning Spencer’s face, you saw that he was staring at your lips. 

“Do you want to continue here or should we...” He asked, looking back up at your eyes. 

“You tell me. I’ll let you take control tonight.” You said, smirking. 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his jaw nervously before licking his lips. You always liked when he did that. He wore chapstick but he never did it for anything other than a sign that he was thinking. 

“I haven’t been in your apartment before.” He said, gingerly. He smiled as you took his hand, guiding him to your bedroom. 

You grabbed your cat off the bed, putting it outside the bedroom and shooing it away. The cat sauntered around to find somewhere else to sleep. 

“Are we really about to do this?” Spencer asked, looking at you on the bed. 

Laying back on the bed, half of you held up by your elbows, you marveled at Spencer. The light from your hallway illuminated his silhouette very nicely. You could see the curves of his arms and his slender frame very clearly. 

“Do you want to do it?” You said, tilting your head a little bit. 

“Yeah, a lot.” Spencer said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. 

He had dreamed about this moment, literally, but he didn’t know he would be so nervous. He didn’t think it would ever happen. He never imagined you’d be laying in front of him like this. 

“Then drop the pants and I’ll drop to my knees,” You smirked. 

“Do you mind if we skip that part?” Spencer said not really in the mood for a blow job. 

It wasn’t that he was opposed to it, it’s just that he didn’t want to think of you like that yet. He felt like those experiences were for days where there wasn’t much time. Tonight, you had all the time in the world.

“You’re telling me you don't want my mouth on your dick?” You said, confused. 

You stood up, getting close to Spencer. You started unbuckling his belt and he audibly swallowed. He was nervous, not because of you but because he wanted this to go right. There was pressure when it came to something so intimate for the first time with someone. He felt your hands on his hips once you got his belt undone. 

“Shoes on or off?” He asked. 

“I’m taking my shoes off, obviously.” You said, already flipping them off. “Oh, you mean you. Well depends on what you want to do. You can bend me over the side of the bed, fuck me from behind, and call it a night. Or, if you want to draw it out, you can climb on top of me and fuck me in the bed. Oh, there’s also shower sex if you feel gross. Wouldn’t recommend it because it’s slippery and counterproductive to me getting wet.” You were rambling off some of the many fantasies and logistics that you’d thought about over the past year. You had thought about it a lot. 

Spencer kissed you. He just wanted you to take a breath because the more you talked about what you thought about, the more he thought about it. And the more he thought about all the ways he wanted to make love to you, the more he just wanted to get started. 

“Spencer, please pick somewhere because I’m literally struggling to keep it together.” You said in a low tone. 

“Clothes off, on the bed, legs open. I’ve got you tonight, baby.” Spencer said with a little more confidence. 

“Yes, sir.” You said, getting undressed. 

Spencer watched you but at the same time, he got dressed down to his boxers. Staring at you, he wondered how you were able to stay so calm on the outside right now. He didn’t usually have the sex drive as high as this moment. His body was on fire with desire and excitement but he was trying so hard to contain it. 

You laid down in the bed, just like Spencer told you to. He flipped on the light and you protested lightly with a groan and covered your face with both hands. 

“I want to watch you come all over me and lose complete control of your body. I can’t do that in the dark.” He said, walking over to the bed. 

“Well damn. Look at you, Spence. Actually showing some confidence. About damn time.” You said, smiling. You loved confident Spencer in all aspects of life, not just here. There was something about him that made you...want to be laid out in front of him, completely naked like you were now. 

“I honestly don’t know where I want to start…” Spencer said. Climbing onto the bed, he did the first thing that came to mind. 

“What’s your line?” He said, kissing your inner thigh, right above your knee. 

“Fuck, uh…” You never really thought of it in relation to Spencer. “Just don’t kill me.” You nervously chuckled. 

More thigh kisses. You wanted to grab your phone and put on some background music but it was just out of reach and Spencer’s arms looped through your legs and pinned your waist down to the bed. His grip was pretty firm. 

“Spence, can we…” A deep moan cut you off and slipped out your mouth when you felt his mouth finally where you wanted him. 

“Hmm?” Spencer looked up at you while his mouth went to work. The vibrations sent shockwaves up your body. 

“Holy shit. More.” You said. More was what he gave you, slipping in two fingers that matched the tempo that his mouth set. 

You were almost there, Spencer’s hair firmly in your hand and his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer, when Spencer slowed down and all together stopped. 

“I swear to god the room better be of fire.” You said, gritting your teeth. You were so, so close and he was being a tease. 

“You’re being a brat, baby. I promise I’ll give you exactly what you’re looking for.” Spencer said, looking for a towel.

“Don’t be a wuss. Kiss me.” You said, drawing his attention away from his towel search. He was nervous that you wouldn’t want to kiss him after he just went down on you. Crawling on top of you, he just stared at your features before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to you. 

You hated breaking apart from kissing him, you really did. It left you in a daze, making the light seem a little too bright for your eyes. He rushed over to his satchel, digging in its contents to find the condom Morgan gave him for emergency purposes as a joke one day. Who knew it would come in handy. 

“Are you ready?” You asked Spencer. He chuckled. 

“I was just about to ask if you were ready.” Spencer went back to being a little awkward. He was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you. 

“Spencer are you sure you don’t want me to help you out?” You asked, watching him shift as he got rid of his underwear. 

“I think I’m okay.” He said, blushing. 

“Okay well let me know if… Spencer, what the fuck?” You asked, looking down, between the two of you. “And you expect me to take all of that?” 

“Is it bad? I know I’m not like other guys but…” Spencer grew a little shy. 

“No, just work your magic because you’re different than most guys. Spence, just be confident because you are very special.” You said, hoping it helped him come back out of his shell. 

“Breathe, okay? It might be a little… Much.” Spencer said, lining himself up with you. 

“I’m fi…” You were cut off as he gently pushed into you. “Holy shit!” Was all you could breathe out while you tried to catch your breath. Much was an understatement with what you felt from Spencer just barely being inside of you.

He paused to let you adjust but it was tough. You could feel yourself stretching when he started moving a little more to help you relax. He took your leg and hitched it around his waist, making you gasp in shock. That was a completely new sensation that sped up your heart rate even faster, your head getting slightly dizzy. 

“Stay with me, darling, okay?” He whispered in your ear. 

If you weren’t all in with Spencer before, your feelings were definitely there now. 

The pace he set was slow and gentle, soft and delicate like he didn’t want to break you. It was just like you imagined it. Your hands intertwined with Spencer’s as he treated you so kindly. You felt pressure just below your stomach and it was like you couldn’t do anything but shut your eyes and let your body feel it. 

“Just keep breathing, okay? It makes it last longer.” Spencer said, trying to stay focused. His brain was going through the female anatomy but he wanted to stay focused. He opened his eyes as he continued pushing himself in and out of you. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable, taking his right hand and moving his thumb over your cheek. You looked so soft under him. 

“Faster.” You whimpered, the only thing you could manage. 

Everything felt nice, it felt comfortable. You were comfortable with Spencer. You thought it would be hotter, more dramatic when you would imagine it. You imagined him grabbing your hips and plunging himself into you until your body was exhausted and used. But that’s not how it worked. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, quietly. He was going faster and a bit harder, making it very hard for you to concentrate. 

“I’m…” You couldn’t think of the answer. You couldn’t think at all right then.

“You’re doing such a good job, love. Just relax, I’ve got you.” Spencer kissed you on the forehead before shifting your leg a bit higher on his hip. That ignited something inside of you that was hard to turn off. 

Your body was on pins and needles. You felt your body shaking as you held onto Spencer’s hand. He kissed you, soft and slightly frenzied. He was chasing his own release so quickly. Everything moved so smoothly between the two of you. 

Spencer’s body rolled into yours like the ocean, and you were the beach. His waves rushed into your shore over and over, filling you with pleasure you couldn’t find on your own. He was kissing your neck, marking you with sweet mumbles of, “I’m all yours.” 

“Spence…” Another instance of being unable to think or speak clearly. 

“I know, I know. And I want you to let it go for me. Be good for me and let go, y/n. I’m right here.” He said, kissing you deeply. 

Spencer pushed into you a little sloppier, trying to stay composed but it was a challenge. He wanted to make sure you rode out your high, which you were definitely doing. Your body was shaking and you were out of it a little bit as you came down. Spencer finished in the condom and kissed you so many times that you lost count. Your cheeks, your neck, your lips, forehead, nose, lips again. 

“Spencer, that was… That was nice.” You said, opening your eyes. He was smiling over you, shaking a little bit. You weren’t sure if his arms were tired or if he felt like you did. You hoped to god that he felt like you did. It worked out so well up to this point. 

He rolled off of you, standing up to get that towel to clean you up. He saw the bathroom door cracked open so he slipped the condom off and put his star trek underwear back on as he went into the bathroom and warmed up a small towel and grabbed a big towel. 

“I got aftercare towels.” He said, walking back into the room. 

You had curled up into yourself, laying down on your side, as you fell asleep slowly. You heard him come back into the room and smiled as he cleaned you up and helped you put a t-shirt on. Putting the towels in your wastebasket, he flipped the overhead light off and came back around to the opposite side of the bed and gently nudged you to let him hold you. 

“How do you feel?” Spencer asked, nuzzling his head into the crook between your shoulder and your neck. 

He felt so warm on your back like that, holding you tight. You felt safe and secure. 

“Spence, I love you.” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“I love you too, y/n,” Spencer said, falling asleep himself.

________________

taglist: 

@i-love-you-green

[conradscrime]

Who was Kaspar Hauser? Mysterious Boy Died in a Mysterious Way

April 1, 2021

On May 26, 1828 a strange teenage boy showed up in the streets of Nuremberg, Germany with a letter addressed to the Captain von Wessenig, captain of the 4th squadron of the 6th cavalry regiment. The writer of this letter was anonymous but they claimed they had been the caretaker of this teenage boy who went by the name of Kaspar Hauser. 

The anonymous letter writing claimed Kaspar had been brought into their custody on October 7, 1812 as an infant and that this caretaker had taught the boy how to read and write. The letter also went on to say that Kaspar was not allowed to step foot outside of the caretaker’s home, and that he had been raised in a darkened cell with no sunlight and only bread and water to eat and drink. 

The letter also said that Kaspar was now here to become a “cavalryman like his father” and the Captain von Wessenig could either take the offer or kill the boy by hanging if he was of no use to him. 

The boy known as Kaspar was also carrying another short letter with him that was supposedly written by his mother. The letter contained personal information about the boy such as his date of birth which was April 30, 1812 and that his father was a cavalryman of the 6th regiment but was now dead. The two letters (the one from this boys supposed caretaker and the one from his mother) were written by the same hand which people later suggested was because Kaspar had written both of these letters himself. 

Kaspar Hauser was taken to the captain but they could not seem to get much information out of him so he was then taken to the police station where he wrote down his name. The strange boy was able to say a few prayers and could read a little bit but his vocabulary seemed limited and he wouldn’t answer very many questions. He was then imprisoned as a vagabond because no one knew what to do with him. 

For the next two months Kaspar stayed in Luginsland Tower in Nuremberg Castle and was taken care of by a jailer named Andreas Hiltel. The boy was apparently in pretty good physical condition and could walk quite well, as well as having a pretty healthy facial complexion. This does not make much sense however if the boy was locked up in a darkened cell his whole life receiving no sunlight and eating very little. 

According to Kaspar himself he had been in solitary confinement his whole life and appeared to be 16 years old. He said he had a straw bed to sleep on and only had a few wooded toys to play with. Kaspar also claimed each morning he awoke to bread and water next to his bed though he said sometimes the water would taste bitter and when he would drink this bitter water he would always have deeper sleeps. Is it possible someone was trying to drug him? 

Kaspar also claimed occasionally he would wake up and his straw would be changed and replaced and his hair and nails would also be cut. Is it possible whoever was taking care of him was giving him drugs while they cut his hair and nails to keep their identity a secret? 

Kaspar said the first time he met another individual was a man who had come to visit him right before he was released. The man apparently hid his face from Kaspar quite well and taught him how to write his own name. After learning how to stand and walk Kaspar was taken to Nuremberg. 

This story became quite the talk of the town and Kaspar Hauser received a lot of attention for being this mysterious boy with a mysterious origin story. Rumours began to spread with some believing he was an imposter who had made the whole story up and others believing he was royalty, perhaps the prince of Baden. 

Here’s where things start to become even stranger. Kaspar was given to a man named Friedrich Daumer who was a schoolmaster and philosopher. He taugh Kaspar various subjects. On October 17, 1829 Kaspar did not show up to lunch and was found in the cellar of Daumer’s house with a wound on his forehead. 

Kaspar claimed he had been attacked by a hooded man who threatened him. Kaspar said he recognized the man’s voice as being the man who had visited him in his cell and brought him to Nuremberg. Some believe that Kaspar had self-inflicted this wound himself to either get pity or to escape Daumer who he had recently gotten in a fight with other Daumer thinking Kaspar had a tendency to lie.

Kaspar was then sent to live with a man named Johann Biberbach. On April 3, 1830 Kaspar was found in his room at Biberbach’s house with a pistol wound to the right side of his head. Kaspar claimed he was standing a chair in order to reach some books and the chair fell, leading him to try to grab something to catch on to. The item he had grabbed onto was the pistol hanging on the wall and this fall caused it to go off. Again, some believe this was Kaspar’s way of getting out of repercussions from Johann Biberbach about lying. 

In May of 1830 Kaspar was transferred to live at the house of Baron von Tucher. Kaspar was also known to lie while living here. Then Lord Stanhope, a British nobleman who took an interest in Kaspar and gained custody of him in late 1831. Lord Stanhope spent quite a lot of money trying to find Kaspar’s origin, he even took him to Hungary twice hoping that the boy would recognize something from his past as Kaspar apparently knew a few Hungarian words and once claimed his mother to be the Hungarian Countess Maytheny. 

Lord Stanhope later said that he started to doubt Kaspar when he couldn’t seem to recognize anything about his past in Hungary. In December 1831 Lord Stanhope transferred Kaspar to live in Ansbach with a schoolmaster named Johann Georg Meyer and in January 1832 Stanhope left Kaspar for good. At one point Lord Stanhope had promised Kaspar he would take him to England, but never did, though he continued to pay for Kaspar’s living expenses. 

Johann Meyer was a strict man and soon became tired of Kaspar’s excuses and supposed lies. Kaspar soon became unhappy with his situation while still hoping that Lord Stanhope was going to take him to England. On December 9, 1833 Kaspar had gotten into a pretty serious argument with Meyer. 

On December 14, 1833 Kaspar had returned home with a deep wound in his left breast. He claimed he had been lured into the Ansbach Court Garden where a stranger stabbed him while giving him a bag. The police found a small violet purse at the scene which had a note that said, 

“Hauser will be able to tell you quite precisely how I look and from where I am. To save Hauser the effort, I want to tell you myself from where I come _ _ . I come from from _ _ _ the Bavarian border _ _ On the river _ _ _ _ _ I will even tell you the name: M. L. Ö.”

Kaspar died from the wound three days later on December 17, 1833. A lot of people speculate that Kaspar Hauser had attacked himself and made up the story about a stranger stabbing him. Many believe this because the note contained a lot of spelling mistakes which was typical for Kaspar. He also was very eager for the police to find this bag containing the note at the scene but had never asked what was in the bag. The note was folded in a specific way which Mrs. Meyer said was how Kaspar always folded his notes. Many believe that Kaspar stabbed himself in an attempt to gain more attention from the public and to convince Lord Stanhope to take him to England. It is thought that Kaspar did not mean to injury himself as deeply as he had. 

Kaspar Hauser was buried in the Stadtfriedhof cemetery in Ansbach where his headstone reads in Latin, 

“Here lies Kaspar Hauser, riddle of his time. His birth was unknown, his death mysterious. 1833.” 

A lot of people speculated as mentioned before that Kaspar Hauser could have been the hereditary prince of Baden who had been born on September 29th, 1812, 5 months after Kaspar’s supposed birth date. According to history the prince had died on October 16, 1812, not even being a month old and it was alleged that he had been switched with a dying infant who turned out to be Kaspar Hauser. Some believe Hauser had been murdered to hide his true identity as the prince as he would of been kidnapped by Countess Hochberg whose motive would have been to secure the succession for her sons. 

To this day, no one knows the true origin of Kaspar Hauser or whether he was murdered or stabbed himself. 

[440mxs-wife]

Tea of Love

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Other Characters: Sam, Castiel, Crowley, Rowena

Imagine: You’re hunting a witch with Sam and Dean, only to fall victim to her curse.

A/N: This is my contribution to the SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge offered by @supernatural-jackles. I signed up to contribute on a monthly basis, but it looks like I missed the deadline. Here it is all the same. Enjoy!

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

Dean parked the Impala a good distance away from the two-story farmhouse. Far enough away to be hidden from sight, but still within running distance for a quick getaway if needed.

You had received word that a witch was causing trouble, and had tracked her to the town of Smithville, Arkansas. The plan was to sneak in to the house, with you going in through the back entrance, while Sam and Dean went in through the front door.

"All right, weapons check," Dean whispered. Each of you ejected the clip from your handguns, yours from your .380, to make sure it was full of witch-killing bullets. Satisfied, you re-inserted the clip and pulled back on the hammer so that a round was in the chamber. After a successful weapons check, Sam went up the steps and started picking the lock on the front door.

"Ready?" you asked as you turned to head for the back door.

Dean nodded. "Hey? Be careful," he remarked softly.

You sent him a quick smile. "Always, Dean. See you inside," you replied. You and Sam be careful too, Dean, you said in silent prayer.

Quickly and quietly, you made your way to the back door. The wooden steps to the porch looked like they had seen too many blistering summers and frostbitten winters to still be stable. You carefully climbed the steps, sticking to the edges where the wood appeared to be less worn.

You gingerly tested the doorknob, only to find that it turned easily in your hand. An unlocked door could mean one of two things: a careless witch or you had just walked into her trap. While you were hoping for the first option, with your luck, you had a feeling it was probably door #2. You tiptoed through the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall to the bedrooms. First bedroom on the right was clear, second one across the hall was also clear.

As you carefully approached the last bedroom, you realized that you hadn't seen Sam or Dean yet. You stopped and strained your ears for any confirmation that they had even entered the house yet. Just as you were about to resume your progress towards the bedroom door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whipped around, only to be confronted by the mossy green orbs of one Dean Winchester.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you took a moment for it to return to normal before continuing your trek down the hall. "What is wrong with you?" you hissed. "You shouldn't just sneak up on me like that!"

"Well, excuse me," he shot back. "First of all, I didn't expect for you to have gotten this far without running into the witch. And 'B', isn't it better to go in knowing you have backup than only hoping you do?" he retorted.

You took a deep breath before answering. "You're right. Sorry Dean," you whispered. "Let's get this witch taken down so we can blow this popstand," you replied.

Dean nodded and motioned for you to continue down the hall. You turned the doorknob and slowly swung the door open. You entered the room first to assess the situation, while Dean stood just outside the door, ready to bust in if needed.

The witch had her back to you as she sprinkled something into a bowl. All of a sudden she raised her arms above her head as if in victory and turned to face the doorway. "I was wondering when you hunters were going to show up. I've been expecting you," she smirked.

Before you could raise your weapon, she picked up the bowl and threw its contents at you. The blue powder from the bowl doused you almost completely from head to toe. As she chanted some words in Latin, the powder started to glow and burn a bit wherever it touched bare skin. You cried out in pain, at which time Dean entered the room and fired his weapon. The witch fell to the floor, dead from the witch-killing bullet he fired.

"Dean," you pleaded softly as you started to feel faint.

"Whoa, hold on there. Stay with me, sweetheart," Dean said as he rushed to catch you before you could hit the floor. He called out for Sam, who had finally caught up with you and Dean. Sam scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to the Impala.

Dean filled him in on what had happened between you and the witch. "I don't know what kind of spell she got hit with, so we're going to have to be ready for just about anything," Dean said grimly.

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

You carefully opened your eyes enough to notice that you were back in your room, in your bed instead of the backseat of the Impala. You decided to sit up, only to be met with a splitting headache. A groan of pain escaped your lips as you eased back onto your pillow and draped your bandaged arm across your eyes.

There was a soft knock at your door, then you heard it creak open. "Hiya, sweetheart," Dean said softly. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I got hit by a truck. Twice," you grumbled.

Dean chuckled. "Here, I gotcha," he said as he handed you a couple of painkillers and a bottle of water. He helped you up to a sitting position, putting pillows between your back and the headboard.

"Thank you," you replied. "What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is that witch throwing a bowl of some kind of powder at me. Then I remember her chanting something, the powder burning into my skin, then you killed her," you finished.

"Well, that's about it, you collapsed after that and we brought you back here in the Impala," Dean explained. "Sam brought you in and put you on your bed," he remarked.

"How long was I out?" you asked.

"You've been out for about a day and a half, sweetheart," he remarked softly. "We called Rowena to see if she could tell what you may have been hit with, so we'd know how to counteract it. And, oh yeah, Crowley tagged along, just so you know," he grumbled.

"Oh. Fabulous," you deadpanned. "I'll bet he's just been a joy to be around," you snorted.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, he said he was bored in Hell, so he latched on to Mummy's magic bag to show up here," he grinned.

You reached over and took Dean's hand in yours. "Hey, in case I forgot to tell you, Dean....thank you for getting me out of there and taking care of me here," you remarked softly.

He shifted a little in his seat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, sure, no problem. All in a day's work, you know," he said as he jumped up from the chair. "Um, I'm uh....gonna just....yeah. I'll check in on you later," Dean then bolted out of your room.

What the hell was that all about? you thought, as you replayed the conversation in your mind. When you got to the part where you took his hand, you mentally smacked yourself in the forehead. He was fine until then, you realized. After that it was awkward, because he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. He's telling you that he doesn't think of you in 'that way'. You leaned your head back against the headboard and squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

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

It's been almost ten years since you came to live in the bunker. You met the Winchesters through a mutual friend, Sheriff Donna Hanscum, whom you've known since high school. She never knew you were a hunter until after Sam and Dean showed up at that spa she went to. You had caught wind of some strange things happening at that spa, so you went in with her, but undercover as a patient.

You and Sam clicked instantly, becoming best friends. You both nerded out about the same things, like books, sci-fi, and research. You liked the same kinds of movies and were more at home in a library than the bar.

You and Dean were a different story. At first, you didn't get along at all, because he thought you would be someone else he'd have to be responsible for. That is, until you stepped in front of the swipe of a werewolf's claws to save his life. Despite your condition, you still managed to fire off three silver bullets at its heart to kill it before collapsing from your injury. After that, Dean seemed to see you as a fellow hunter, rather than a civilian he had to constantly keep watch over.

Too bad he didn't also see you as a woman--full of passion, kindness and understanding, with eyes only for him. You watched as he showered his attention and affections on countless other women, just not on the one woman who truly knew and loved him. So, you handled your feelings by using the Winchester Method: you shoved them down out of the way and pretended that they didn't exist.

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

A couple of hours later, you carefully got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. You picked up the teakettle, filled it with water and added several pinches of your special blend of tea. While you waited, you grabbed your favorite cup from the cabinet and took a seat at the table.

"Well hello, dear! Nice to see ye up and around, 'specially after what ye've been through, darlin'," a voice from behind you said. You turned to see it was Rowena, which brought a small smile to your face.

"Hello, Rowena," you replied. "Any luck figuring out what we're up against?" you asked.

"Not yet, dearie. Still workin' on it, but don't ye worry abou' it," Rowena assured you.

"I hope so," you murmured. "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

Rowena shook her head and smiled. At that moment, Sam, Dean and Castiel came into the kitchen and walked over to the table. Sam and Cas each squeezed your shoulder as they took their seats. "Hey, sweetheart, you must be feeling better," Dean remarked as he kissed the top of your head.

You smiled and nodded. The teakettle whistled that it was ready to serve, so you rose from the table. "You guys want some tea? I made some from my secret stash," you grinned.

The boys all nodded, so you got out three extra cups, along with the cream, sugar and honey. You poured cups of tea for everyone, then resumed your seat at the table. You added a bit of creamer and some sugar to your tea.

"So, what's in this 'special blend' of tea you made?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's got some dried orange zest in it, some cinnamon, black tea leaves, ground nutmeg. And a few other secret ingredients," you winked conspiratorially.

"Mmm, I think it's delicious," Cas remarked as he took another sip, with Sam nodding in agreement.

Dean watched as you absently stirred your tea, while the others talked among themselves. Your furrowed brow showed him you were still coming to terms with what had happened in the past few days.

It had not yet been determined what kind of curse you'd been hit with, and he knew you had to be worried. Your eyes glistened a bit with unshed tears which told him you might be more than a little scared of that unknown. You stood up from the table just as he was about to reach out for your hand to comfort you.

"I think I'll go take a shower. Might feel a bit more human if I do, after wearing the same clothes for the past few days. Excuse me," you murmured as you left the kitchen. Dean stared after you, wanting so badly to help you. To show you it was okay to be scared, and that he would do everything in his power to figure out how to reverse the spell.

At that moment, Crowley waltzed into the kitchen. "Hello, Mother, Feathers, Moose, Squirrel," he drawled. "Where's our little Mouse? Can't complete the clubhouse roll call unless she's here to sound off," he smirked.

"She left to go take a shower," Dean grumbled as he brushed past Crowley out of the kitchen.

Crowley noticed Dean's full cup of tea and took a drink. "This is wonderful, delicious, wherever did it come from?" he asked. Sam told him it was from your own homemade blend of tea and spices. Crowley shrugged and continued to drink the tea.

As the men continued to drink the tea, Rowena noticed a bit of a change in each one. Their thoughts seemed to become more focused towards you, and had also turned more amorous in nature. Before she could voice her observations, Sam left the table after downing the rest of his tea.

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

After your shower, you brought your favorite book and settled into a chair in the library. Once you had made yourself comfortable, Sam approached you and knelt beside your chair. He smiled up at you as he took your hand in his and brushed his lips across the back of it.

"Sam, what's going on?" you asked in bewilderment.

"N-nothing, I just wanted to spend some time with you, be around you. What book are you reading?" he asked.

You were a bit confused at the sudden focus of Sam's attention on you. But you pushed it aside for the moment and explained the plot of the book you were reading. He asked if he could read it aloud to you, which you politely declined. Then he broke out the best version of his puppy-dog eyes, and you were powerless to resist. You relented with a smile, and he suggested that you curl up with him on the couch to be more comfortable.

Moving from your chair to the couch, you made sure to bring your favorite blanket with you. Once you got all settled, you showed Sam where you left off in your book so he could start reading. The gentle lilt of Sam's voice as he read to you caused your eyelids to feel heavy until you could no longer keep them open.

Dean walked through the library just in time to see you curled up with Sam, and for Sam to press a kiss to your forehead. An uncomfortable feeling settled into his chest, but he had no idea why. He shook it off for the moment and headed for the garage to work on the Impala.

About an hour later, you awoke to find Sam's arms around you and his cheek pressed against your forehead. You tried to extract yourself, but Sam tightened his embrace a bit more. "Mmm, don't go Baby, stay here with me a little longer," he mumbled.

Baby? you wondered. Since when am I 'Baby' to anyone around here?!? your thoughts screamed.

You managed to wriggle yourself out of his arms and into a upright position. "Sam, wake up. Sam! Wake up!" you shook his arm to try and rouse him. Your efforts were unsuccessful, because he stayed asleep. Puzzled, you picked up your book and your blanket then returned to your room.

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

The next morning, you woke to find that Castiel had set the table for the two of you to have breakfast. "Good morning," he greeted you with a wide smile.

Not quite awake yet, you answered him with a yawn then a smile. "Good morning, Cas. What's going on here?" you asked, gesturing towards the table.

"I thought it would be nice to have breakfast made for you when you awakened, Honeybee," he stated.

'Honeybee'? What is going on with the men in this bunker lately?!? you thought. "Well, you certainly brought out one of my favorites, peanut butter and banana toast," you grinned.

You reached for two slices of bread from the wrapper. Cas took them from your hands before you could put them in the toaster. "Please, allow me," he said. He added the bread to be toasted and proudly pushed down on the lever.

When it was finished, the bread popped up, perfectly golden brown, with no burnt edges. Cas placed the toast on a plate and set it on the table. Just as he was about to pick up the knife to spread the peanut butter, you stopped him. "Cas, not that I don't appreciate it, but I don't mind fixing my own toast. You've done so much already, why don't you take a little break?" you suggested.

His face fell a bit, then all of a sudden lit up. "I just remembered that you like to drink milk with your peanut butter toast. Be back in just a moment," he grinned, tapping the end of your nose before heading to the fridge. Cas returned shortly with a small glass of cold milk. "Here you are, Honeybee," he remarked shyly.

"Thank you, Cas. Exactly what I needed. So, what are your plans today?" you asked.

"I'm glad you asked. I was going to see if you would like to go on a walk with me, maybe see some wildflowers? I know of a lovely field we could visit, if you are interested....?" he asked, his voice full of hope.

You were planning on doing some research to try and find something to counteract the curse. You also didn't want to be too far away from the bunker in case a cure was found. From the look on Castiel's face, though, you couldn't bear to disappoint him.

"That sounds lovely, Cas. We could leave in an hour, if you wish. That would give me time to finish my breakfast, take a shower and all that," you added.

"I shall endeavor to keep myself busy until you return, my sweet Honeybee," Cas said as he took hold of your hand and gently kissed the back. With a whoosh of his wings, he was gone.

As soon as he had gone out of sight, you slumped over the table, putting your head in your hands. Dean arrived in the kitchen shortly after hearing you let out a groan of frustration. "What's with you this morning?" he asked.

You returned to an upright position. "Good morning, Dean. Cas made me breakfast today, which was very sweet, and now he wants me to go with him to check out a field of wildflowers. I think there's something very strange going on around here. I wish I knew what it was," you grumbled.

"Why is Cas wanting to spend time with you and do things for you 'strange'? Do you not enjoy his company? I mean, if you don't want to go, just tell him. Don't string him along, Princess," Dean retorted.

You looked at Dean with a mixture of shock, anger and hurt on your face. "Like I said, something strange is going on around here. First Sam, then Cas, now you," you retorted as you bolted from your chair.

Dean closed his eyes and instantly felt remorse for what he had said, because he knew you weren't like that. You didn't play games with people's emotions, and when you loved someone, you did it with your whole heart. Unfortunately, doing so had led to your heart being broken by too many others along the way.

He understood about your independent nature, which was one of the things he admired about you. To have anyone do anything for you was sometimes hard for you to accept. You were so used to being the one who cared for or catered to others, not so much the other way around.

As he gave it more thought, he realized that neither Sam nor Cas had shown any romantic interest in you until recently. Dean began to wonder if maybe you had a point about strange things going on in the bunker. He promised himself that when you came back from your outing with Cas, that he would apologize.

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

You and Cas spent a lovely afternoon walking through a field of wildflowers. Cas told you about every species of flower and what each color meant. He found a spot underneath a willow tree, where he produced a picnic basket containing assorted fruits and cheeses. You showed him how to make flower crowns as someone had once shown you. Then you placed one on his head and took a picture.

Upon your return to the bunker, you searched for a vase to hold the wildflowers you and Cas had picked. As you arranged the flowers, Cas placed his hands on your shoulders, then began to run them up and down your arms. When you had finished with the flowers, Cas took one of your hands in his and led you into the library.

Cas punched some buttons on his phone. After appearing quite frustrated at times, he finally relaxed and music started playing from his phone. He pulled you into his arms and started dancing with you, a love-struck grin on his face.

At one point, Cas spun you out away from him, which is the exact moment that Dean walked into the library. He looked at you and Cas dancing with a raised eyebrow, which caused your face to grow warm. "C-Cas, th-thank you for a lovely afternoon," you stammered. "Sorry," you mumbled as you brushed past Dean and out of the room.

"Cas? Is there something going on between you two?" Dean asked.

A large grin spread across Cas' face as he sighed deeply before answering Dean's question. "I'm not sure, Dean. I've never felt the way I do except when I'm with her. I would be the luckiest man in all of Creation if she loved me," he answered dreamily. Then he seemed to snap back to reality. "I must go, I am needed elsewhere," Cas said, returning to what Dean considered "normal" for Cas.

Dean shook his head, even more confused as to what was going on. First, you were snuggled up with Sam, then dancing with Castiel. He decided to check in with Rowena to see if she knew anything more.

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

While Dean was in the library trying to figure things out, you were sitting on the edge of your bed trying to do the same thing. A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your visitor was literally the last person you ever expected to see. Crowley had on an apron, covered in flour and bits of what looked like cake batter stuck to it.

"Good evening, Love," he bowed and took your hand in his. "I was wondering if you would consider, um, helping me with a small problem. You see, someone told me you were a fan of cheesecakes, and I ran into some difficulty trying to make you one. Might I request the honor of your assistance in the kitchen, so you can show me the proper....technique?" he suggested.

It took every ounce of self-control you had not to break out into laughter or tears. The absurd events of the last two days were leading you to believe the witch put an insanity curse on you. Quickly regaining your composure, you told Crowley that you would meet him in the kitchen in about 10 minutes. "Until then, my darling," he remarked softly, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek.

As soon as the door was closed, you sank down on the edge of the bed again. "This is too weird," you whispered to yourself. "Now Crowley wants to spend time with me?? This is some curse I've got on me. I think it's making me lose my mind," you mused.

When you opened your door, you heard a heated argument occurring in the kitchen between Sam, Cas and Crowley. You walked slowly to the kitchen, catching bits and pieces of the harsh words spoken between the men. Each one claimed to love you more than the other two, and promised to fight anyone who dared try and take you away.  Insults were traded and fists were raised, ready to do battle.

You turned around and were headed back to your room when you ran smack into Dean. "Well, Princess, looks like you hit the jackpot in there," he snarled, his arms folded across his chest.

"I--" was all you could say.

"Congratulations, you've got every woman's fantasy going on in that kitchen. Three men fighting for her affections," he taunted.

"Not every woman, Dean. Not me," you choked out as you pushed away from him, tears streaming down your face.

Dammit! How did I end up doing and saying the exact opposite of what I wanted? Dean thought. I need to go talk to Rowena, see if she knows anything else about this curse, he decided. First things first, though, he was going to put a stop to what was happening in the kitchen.

"ENOUGH!" he thundered. Sam, Castiel and Crowley all turned to look at Dean. "Everyone retreat to a neutral corner until we can figure out what's going on," he ordered.

Dean turned down the hallway to Rowena's room. As he came around the corner, you briefly met his gaze as you passed him in the hallway, only to quickly drop it again. Dean reached out his hand for yours. "Wait," he pleaded.

You shook your head at him, fresh tear tracks evident on your cheeks. "No, Dean. I don't want to talk to you right now. I never meant for any of this to happen. I think it's best if I remove myself from the equation for the time being. At least until Rowena can figure out how to reverse the spell," you finished. With that, you closed and locked your bedroom door.

Dean's heart ached to hear the pain in your voice and to see your tear-stained face. He knocked on Rowena's door and entered her room when she granted him access. "What can I do fer ye, Dean?" she asked in her lilting accent.

He mentioned how he had just left the kitchen, where Sam, Cas and her beloved son were fighting over you. "They've all been paying extra attention to her, being all romantic and stuff. What's weird, is that they've never even shown any kind of interest in her before," Dean explained.

"Sam's reading with her and snuggling on the couch, Cas is taking her out for a picnic and to pick wildflowers." He turned to Rowena, pointed his finger at her and narrowed his eyes. "Your son is wearing an apron, asking her to teach him how to bake a damn cheesecake," he huffed. "I swear, it's as if that witch cast a--" he broke off.

"A love spell?" Rowena asked. "Tha's exactly what it was," she confirmed.

"Can you reverse it?" Dean asked.

"I can, but.....," she started.

"But what?" Dean asked.

"It's no' real love that Samuel, Castiel and Fergus have for her. When they realize that fact, it's bound to be a bit awkward at first. They may act a little distant towards her, and she will think she’s done something wrong to make them pull away. She'll believe that the friendship she has with each of them has been ruined, that it's over. It could break her kind and generous heart," Rowena explained.

Dean dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew Rowena was right, and that you would probably isolate yourself in an attempt to maintain order in the bunker.

"Of course, once the right man declares his feelings for the wee lassie, her heart will mend. In time, anyway. Then Samuel, Castiel and Fergus won't feel like they have to stay away from her," she continued.

Dean noticed how she had suddenly focused her attention on him and scoffed. "Whoa, do you mean me? That I should declare my feelings for her? I'm not--"

"Aren't ye?" Rowena asked softly. "Search your heart, Dean. Ye've been in love with her for a while now, haven't ye? Seeing her together with another man, let alone three? Doing the type of romantic things that ye've thought abou' doin' with her? I'd say it's enough to make any normal man just a wee bit jealous. I can only imagine what it's doin' to ye," she remarked.

"Pfft," was the best response he could muster for the moment. "Start working on that spell reversal. I need to head into town for some supplies," Dean replied.

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

The next morning, Rowena announced that she had prepared the antidote for the witch's love spell. Turns out, it was your tea that had triggered the exaggerated feelings of love. You touched the tea blend with your fingers to add it to the water in the teakettle. Then, the effects of the spell were transferred to whomever drank the tea.

Each man drank the concoction and waited for its effects to kick in, which didn't take long once the antidote was consumed. As predicted, there were profuse apologies to you from all three men. They all assured you that though they didn't think of you romantically, they still loved you in their own way. You smiled and assured them that you were fine, no harm done, that you knew that the right someone was still out there.

But behind your closed bedroom door, it was a different story. At night, you laid awake, staring at the ceiling. You understood that their attention to you was only because of the spell.

You remembered how Sam, Castiel and Crowley all looked at you. You tried not to think about how it would feel to have Dean look at you just once the way they did. Still, you knew that the chances of Dean feeling that way about you for real were slim to none. Especially after everything he said while the others were under the spell.

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

Today marked a full week since you'd gone into hiding, emerging only for little more than a shower and something to eat. You took most of your meals in your room, instead of eating at the table with everyone else. Dean was growing increasingly worried about you, and was determined to get you to break out of your sanctuary.

He knocked at your door relentlessly, trying to coax you out with offers of a movie marathon with your favorite snacks. He even suggested a midnight stargazing outing in the Impala. However, nothing seemed to be working.

At one point you heard, "You can't ignore me forever, sweetheart," he muttered against your door. Oh yeah? You thought defiantly. Watch me.

Halfway through week two of your self-imposed exile, you needed a new book to read. You carefully unlocked and opened your bedroom door, then looked down the hall. No one was in sight in either direction, so you tiptoed out of your room and into the library. You chose a nice, thick book, then rushed back to your room before anyone could see you. Once back inside your room, you quickly closed and re-locked the door, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey, sweetheart," a voice rumbled from someone sitting in the chair in the corner.

The heavy book dropped from your hands and nearly fell on your toes. You gasped in surprise and clutched at your hammering heart. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?!? Not to do it, if I recall," you retorted.

"Didn't really leave me much choice, though, did you? I wasn't sure if you ever wanted to see me again, but I wanted to see you. Been hiding in here for almost two weeks now," Dean remarked softly.

"I've had my reasons, Dean. This whole curse thing has left me more confused than ever. Sam, Cas and even Crowley never thought of me romantically until that spell came along. And you? You've made your feelings clear about the whole situation at every turn.

"So," you continued. "On the one hand, it takes a 'love spell' for guys like Sam, Cas and Crowley to want to be with someone like me. On the other hand, when I am with someone like them, you don't like it and make nasty remarks about the whole thing. Please tell me, Dean, where's the incentive to make me want to be anywhere but in my room by myself? Hmm?" you challenged.

Dean rose from the chair in the corner and strode over to the door where you were still standing. He stood close enough for you to detect his woodsy cologne, mixed with the mint of his mouthwash. He reached up and tenderly tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I understand how you feel. But, before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you," he said softly. The hand that had so recently fixed your hair slid around to the back of your head. It pulled you closer until your lips meshed with Dean's in a hungry, demanding kiss.

Dean swallowed the soft moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. His free arm snaked around your waist to bring you flush against his body. His kisses roamed everywhere, trying to leave no territory untouched. Your cheeks, your neck, collarbone and more was all fair game for Dean. "So beautiful," he murmured against your shoulder.

"Dean," you whispered. You reached up to cup Dean's face with your hands, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. You tangled your fingers into his spiky hair and gently tugged on it, earning a groan of appreciation.

Dean's hands roamed up and down your back, gripping and releasing the fabric of your shirt. When the need for air became too great, the kissing was broken, leaving you and Dean each trying to catch your breath. You put your foreheads together as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

Dean took your hands and guided you to sit next to him on the edge of your bed. "Baby, I'm so sorry for what I said to you before when that whole thing with the spell was going on. I guess it was because I was jealous of Sam, Cas and even Crowley," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, my love. There wasn't anything to be jealous of. It was kind of weird, all of a sudden having those guys chasing after me," you giggled. You brought your hand down to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his stubbled jawline. "It's always been you that I've been in love with for so long. But, I thought you'd only ever see me as a fellow hunter, or at most, a best friend. Never as the woman who loves you," you replied softly.

"Darlin', what I see before me is a woman who lights up a room whenever she walks into it. A woman with a kind and generous heart that tends to put the needs of others before her own. I see a woman with an exceptional sense of humor, who's smart and sexy as hell. And just as she has chosen me, I choose her. Every time," he finished.

"I love you, Dean," you said softly.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replied as he leaned in to recapture your lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

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

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