justwritingsomethingsisuppose

[justwritingsomethingsisuppose]

Hello who would be interested in an AU CrowleyxReader BDSM story akin to the Carry On destiel fanfic but like Crowley x College age female reader 

I started writing one ages ago (aka when this blog was active) and never finished it but if there are folks interested i’d be happy to start posting it 

[justwritingsomethingsisuppose]

Seeking Solace - Dean x Reader

Title: Seeking Solace

Prompt: 100 themes challenge, #5 “Seeking Solace”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Chapter: 1/1

Rating: PG

Author: justwritingsomethingsisuppose

Warnings: Depression, deep sadness, mental health

You sprawled on your bed facedown, absolutely worn out from the day. The hunt had been dreadful; the creature was an absolute bitch of a monster; the waitress at that diner had been even worse, flirting with Dean like you werent even there and then “accidentally” spilling a full glass of soda on your lap when she realized Dean was taken by you; and the combination of it all left you in the shitter. All you wanted to do at the moment was cry.

So cry you did.

You pulled your pillow into your arms and clung to it in a tight hug, letting the tears fall from your eyes. You knew that the little vent in your door would let out the noises if you sobbed too loud, so you pressed your face against the pillow in your arms to stifle it as you lost control of your sounds.

It wasn’t too long before Dean came walking past your door, and it took him a total of two seconds to recognize the sounds of your crying, however muffled they may have been. He stopped and turned to your door, listening for a moment longer before knocking gently.

“Y/N…?” he asked softly, turning the knob and pushing the door open without waiting for a response from you. You lifted your face from the pillow only for a second before hiding it again.

“Just go away, Dean,” you called against the pillow.

“I’m not leaving you alone like this, Y/N.” He shut the door behind him and slowly walked over to the bed. “Come on, kiddo. Whats up?” He knelt down beside the bed, resting his chin on the edge and staring at you. You didn’t respond, which prompted him to lift a hand up and nudge your side gently. “Y/N. Kiddo,” he prodded softly.

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Go ‘way,” you mumbled, sniffling immediately after.

“Like I said, I’m not leaving. But you don’t have to tell me whats wrong, just how I can help.”

“You cant,” you lifted your head slightly to look at him, “I’ll be fine.”

“You better be.” He smiled softly and put his hand on your arm. You glanced at his hand but relaxed a bit under his touch. Your head fell against the bed and you sighed, staring at the pillow in your grip.

There were several minutes of silence between you, Dean rubbing your arm and you occasionally sniffling, tears still rolling steadily down your face.

He suddenly seemed to get an idea though, because he stood up quickly. “Y/N, get your coat on. I wanna take you somewhere.” He picked your coat up from the back of your desk chair and handed it to you.

“Dean, I don’t wanna get up,” you whined a bit, dropping the coat onto the floor. He groaned and picked it back up.

“It’ll be worth it, Y/N. Come on.” He handed it to you again, and you huffily took it and sat up to pull it on.

“Where is it you want to take me?” you asked as you zipped the coat and moved to put on your boots.

“Its a surprise, you’ll see. Come on, kiddo, it’ll be awesome.” He grinned at you and offered his hand, which you took once your boots were tied up.

“A surprise, huh?” You wiped at your eyes with your free hand as he led you out the door. You both completely ignored the questioning shouts from Sam and Castiel, simply walking up the bunker stairs and out the door with no explanation.

He led you to the Impala, holding the passenger door open for you. Snow was falling softly around you, sticking in your hair. It slowly began to melt once you were in the car. He hopped into his seat, smiling over at you as he started the car.

“I’d still like to know where we’re going,” you muttered.

“And you’ll find out just as soon as we get there,” he said with a grin and took off.

Midway through the drive that was taking seemingly forever, you felt another onslaught of tears. You turned your face to the window, watching the snow-covered trees and roads fly past in hopes that Dean wouldn’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks. He definitely noticed, but instead of saying anything he just reached his hand over and took your hand, squeezing softly. You looked over in surprise, but once again his soft touch helped you relax. His hand was big around yours, enveloping your hand completely.

“Almost there, baby,” he said softly. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand soothingly.

Finally he stopped the car, pulling off to the side of the road. You looked around and then at him. One eyebrow was arched in question.

“Dean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. What are we doing?” You squeezed his hand. He just shook his head and got out of the car, reaching into the pockets of his coat for gloves to protect his fingers against the cold.

“You got gloves on you, baby? Sammy’s got some in the back seat if you don’t,” he asked before closing his door. You didn’t have any, so you reached behind you and took Sam’s from the floorboards in the back before exiting the car.

“Gotta use Sam’s I guess. Why are we in the middle of the road?” You pulled the too-big gloves onto your hands.

“Because.” He didn’t elaborate further, instead gesturing to the big snow-covered field to the right of the road. You looked over your shoulder at it, then back at him.

“A field is why we’re here?” you scoffed and started to roll your eyes, which stopped when a mess of snow struck your in the shoulder. “Hey!” You glared at Dean, who was grinning and holding up another snowball. He looked mischievous, but his eyebrows were raised in question, wanna play? You kept your steady glare for a moment longer, contemplating on whether you were angry at him or happy with him for driving you an hour away from the bunker for a snowball fight. Finally you made up your mind and ducked down as though you were going to get in the car before quickly making a break for the field. Dean laughed and ran around his car after you.

It took you seconds to make a snowball and you launched it at his face. You laughed loudly when it connected with his cheek, leaving a red cold mark as it melted away. The tears in your eyes dried up and were forgotten for the moment.

Dean launched a couple more snowballs at you in quick succession, cackling when one connected with your ass as you ran away from him. You dove behind a tree and started forming more ammo as fast as possible. You could hear him getting closer to your hiding spot, so as soon as you deemed that you had enough ammo, you ducked your head out and launched some at him.

You carried on like that for most of the night, letting the stress from the day melt away like the snow falling onto your cheeks. It got dark fast, leaving the moon and the stars to illuminate the white field as you continued to play.

A snowman was built after the snowball fight ceased. Then, as you were on the ground making a snow angel, Dean decided to be an ass and gathered up two balls of snow in his hands. He slammed them onto the chest of the snowman and declared it a snow woman instead. After getting up and pelting him with more snowballs, you laughed and agreed it looked better with the added-on breasts.

Finally, exhausted and cold, you crawled into the backseat of the Impala, you clinging to him for warmth. He leaned over the seat and started the car to get the heat going before plopping back down to pull his soaking wet coat off himself. You did the same, shedding your big warm and now wet coat and tossing it to the floor.

“That was fun.” You murmured as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Yeah it was. Worth your while, baby?” He dragged his fingers through your damp hair.

“Mmmmhm.” You leaned up and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. “It absolutely was. Thank you, Dean.”

“Anything for you, baby. I’m glad I could put that smile back on your face.” He kissed your forehead. “Do you wanna head back now or wait til later?”

“Well, they’ll be worr-”

“Don’t think about them. Think about you. Do you wanna go find a motel and stay tonight and tomorrow in whatever little town is closest to us, just you and me, or do you wanna make the long haul back to the bunker right now?” he interrupted you, raising an eyebrow. You thought for a long minute, tapping your finger against your lips.

“Lets… let’s go find a motel,” you finally concluded with a smile.

“Alright. Let’s go.” He grinned and hopped over the seat, pulling the car back onto the road. As he drove, you draped your arms over his shoulders from the back seat and rested your chin on his shoulder, watching the road and singing along softly to the music on the radio. You felt happy here, and he was happy to make you smile.

[justwritingsomethingsisuppose]

Hero - Lawyer!Sam x Reader

Title: Hero

Prompt: 100 themes challenge, #68 “Hero”

Pairing: Lawyer!Sam x Female reader

Chapter: 1/? (I dont plan on writing more to this but lmk if y’all want it

Rating: PG

Author: justwritingsomethingsisuppose

Warnings: Stalking, aggression, violence

It was a Friday night which, for most college students, meant parties and clubs and drinking and socialization. Not for you, though. It meant movie night with your roommate Charlie. Movie night meant snacks.

Neither of you had time that day to run out for snacks though, so around 9:30 in the evening, you had to run down to the convenience store. It was two miles away, but it was a walk you made all the time, even in the dark on occasion, without any trouble.

You bought the usual snacks — popcorn, chips, three or four different kinds of candy, and a couple of sodas — and paid for them and left. You started the walk back to campus as you tucked your small amount of loose change into your pocket. You didn’t notice at first over the rustling of the plastic bags on your arms, but a minute or so after you started walking you realized there were footsteps echoing your own as you walked. Not too worried about it, you glanced over your shoulder. Walking barely 15 feet behind you was a short stocky man with a beanie on. It was pulled down low on his forehead so you couldn’t see his eyes at all.

Mildly alarmed by the discovery of someone walking behind you so closely, you snapped your attention back forwards. You took a deep breath and told yourself that he was only trying to walk around you to get where he was going. You moved to one side of the sidewalk to make it easier for him to pass, but his footsteps never sped up. He stayed steadily behind you.

Growing more and more nervous about this by the second, you started to walk a little faster if only to see what he would do. As you feared he would do, his pace sped up to match yours.

He was following you.

With one hand you reached down to snag your phone out of your pocket and — shit oh shit I left my phone in the dorm… The image came up clear in your mind; your phone was plugged up on your desk, charging. Frantically you looked around, hoping for an open storefront or a passing car you could flag down or someone walking around you that wasn’t this guy following you. You took another glance back at the man and this only seemed to make him walk faster. You gasped when he started to close the distance and took off running.

On your left, close to the street, you saw a phone booth with a door that you hadn’t ever noticed before. I didn’t think these things existed anymore… thank fucking god they do! You thought to yourself as you jumped inside and slammed the door shut between you and the man. The door even had a little latch on it that you clipped into place. Not that it would matter too much if he just decided to break the glass to get to you, but it was a mild momentary comfort.

You didn’t think to call the police as you shoved your only coins into the phone and dialed what you thought was Charlie’s number. It rang a couple times and for a terrifying moment you thought Charlie wouldn’t pick up. You were relieved when you finally heard the line click to life.

“Hello?” The voice on the phone was definitely not Charlie’s. It was a deep male voice that you didn’t recognize. Your voice stuck in your throat. Instead of responding to the man on the phone, you looked out of the glass phone booth, eyes searching for your stalker. You caught sight of him leaned against the wall of the apartment building just half a block down from the phone booth. It was obvious to you that he was just waiting on you to feel safe enough to get out of the phone booth. “Hello?” The voice on the phone asked again, sounding impatient.

“S-sorry… shit… is Charlie there?” you asked, your voice wavering.

“Charlie? No, sorry… I think you have the wrong number,” the man on the phone replied. This news caused you to let out a sob of frustration, followed by crying. You had burst out into tears. “Whoa, whoa, are you alright??” The man asked, suddenly alarmed by the crying.

“N-no, I’m… I’m trapped in a phone booth, theres a man following me… I’m so scared and I don’t have anymore change, I don’t… I just wanted Charlie to come get me…” you stammered out desperately, glancing out at the man again. Had he moved closer to the booth now? Fuck.

“Where are you? Are you in (your city)?” the guy on the phone asked in a gentle voice.

“Y-yeah…” You stated the name of the college you were attending within the city.

“Okay. Can you see a street sign anywhere near you? Or a business name or something?”

“Uh… I-I’m on Lawrence Street, I’m like half a mile away from the gas station convenience store and like a mile and a half from the college… why?”

“Do you want my help? I don’t think it’s right for me to leave you alone like this,” he declared. You could hear the jingling of what you assumed were keys as he prepared to leave. You glanced back out to where you had last seen your stalker and nearly screamed when you saw him now walking towards the phone booth.

“Please! Oh god he’s coming towards me, please!” You begged into the phone.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, don’t hang up the phone,” he tried to speak calmly as he sprinted out of his house and towards his car.

The stalker stopped near the booth when he realized you were on the phone. Fearful that you had called the police, he looked around, likely listening for sirens. Content that he heard none at the moment, he started towards the booth again. Your whole body was shaking in fear as you curled up in the corner of the booth with the phone clutched to your ear and tears pouring down your cheeks.

“P-please hurry…” you whimpered at the stranger over the phone.

“I’m on my way, take deep breaths.” He had already started his car and pulled out onto the street.

The stalker had stopped outside the booth door, your eyes glued to him as he moved. He reached out and rattled the door, frustrated when he found it locked. At the jarring metallic sound of the rattling door, you released a high pitched sob. The man rattled it a little harder before deciding it wasn’t gonna budge easily. He started kicking at it.

“What’s that sound? What’s happening???” The stranger on the phone asked. You couldn’t breathe, you felt like your throat had closed up and the only thing that could escape were your sobs. “Are you there??” He tried to get your attention, but all he could hear was crying and loud metallic rattling that was slowly increasing. The door would break soon. This made him speed faster.

Finally he turned onto Lawrence street and started driving towards the college. He passed the gas station you had mentioned and slowed down to try and spot the phone booth. It didn’t take him long to spot a man kicking at a surprisingly sturdy phone booth door.

“I’m here!” he stated into his phone before slamming his car into park in the middle of the road and jumping out. “Hey!!” he shouted at the much smaller man. The guy stopped kicking and turned towards Sam. His eyes widened and he suddenly took off running. Sam gave chase for a minute, shoving his phone into his pocket as he did so, until he remembered you still locked inside that phone booth, terrified. He turned around and sprinted for the phone booth again. He stopped a couple feet away from it, the clear - albeit now cracked - glass of the door allowed him to see you sunk to the ground inside. You were looking up at him with wide terrified eyes. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way and waited for you to be ready to open the door, simply standing there with his hands in his pockets and his as he tried to catch his breath from running.

After several minutes, he finally saw you stand up. You hung up the pay phone and hesitated before you reached out and unlocked the door. You hesitated again before opening it.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“H-hi.” He could see your hand grip tighter to the plastic grocery bags you were holding as you timidly greeted him.

“Whoa, hey. I won’t hurt you.” He held his hands up and took a step back, hoping you’d feel more comfortable. He watched you take a deep shuddering breath, rub at your wet eyes, and relax your grip on the bag.

“I-I know, s… sorry…” You looked down at the grimy concrete.

“My name’s Sam Winchester.”

“Uh. Y/N.” Your voice crackled as you spoke, likely from crying.

“Nice to meet you. Do you want me to give you a ride home? Do you live on campus?”

“Y-yeah, that’d b-be gr-reat…” you stammered out, shuffling your feet. He turned and walked to his still-running car, opening the passenger door for you. You slid inside and buckled up. Sam jogged to the drivers side and got in, putting the car in drive and heading up Lawrence street towards the college.

You had yourself pressed up against the door beside you with your bags in your lap. You were ready to jump out of the car if he tried anything. Sam felt so bad that you’d gone through this and then that you’d dialed the wrong number when trying to call for help.

“What’s your major?” He finally asked, trying to ease the tension in the car. You looked over at him, surprised and confused.

“Um… undecided right now… just… getting core classes out of the way… but I’m really into mythology, I’ve been thinking about majoring in that…” you said softly.

“Oh I loved mythology. I wanted to minor in it when I was in school but I had to take a minor related to my major.”

“What was your major…?”

“Pre-law. If I wanted law school, mythology wasn’t an option and I wouldn’t have become a lawyer.” He could see you visibly relax at that information.

“You’re a lawyer? Cool…” You smiled a little. You no longer kept yourself pressed against the door.

“Yeah. I love my job.” He nodded, chuckling. He turned into the driveway of the school. “What dorm am I going to?”

“That one,” you pointed towards the right side of campus. He steered the car that way and pulled into the parking lot you told him to.

“Can I walk you to your dorm room? Make sure you get there okay?” Sam offered, a dimpled smile forming on his cheeks. He could see hesitation and then fear flash across your face. “You don’t have to say y-”

“Please do,” you pleaded softly.

“Alright.” He pushed some of his floppy hair away from his face as he shut the car off and slid out of his seat. You got out as well and walked inside.

“I only live on the first floor, so…” you trailed off as you walked down a hallway to a cutely decorated door. It seemed as though you and your room mate had yet to take down your holiday decorations. You unlocked it and stepped inside only to be snatched into a hug by a blur of red that was apparently your room mate.

“Thank GOD you’re okay! I had no idea what was taking you so long and your phone’s here-…” Charlie trailed off when she spotted Sam standing in the hallway behind you and then she noticed you were slightly trembling in her arms. “What the hell happened and who is he?”

“He helped me, I…  can… can I explain later…?” you asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Here, lemme take those.” Charlie took the bags out of your hands and turned into the room to put them down. You turned around to face Sam.

“Thank you so much, Sam. Really.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad I got to you in time, and I’m really glad you’re okay.” Sam smiled. He grunted in surprise when you suddenly hugged him.

“Thank you…” you repeated with a sniffle. Sam hugged you back gently, letting go when you pulled away and wiped at your eyes. “Let me give you some gas money or something… to pay you back…” you turned to go get money but he gently took your arm to stop you.

“No need. It’s fine.”

“No, really, I owe you something for helping me…”

“It’s no big deal. The gas I used is probably two dollars worth. I’ll live.” He shrugged.

“What can I do to pay you back?”

“Call me again if you’re ever in trouble, and make it an intentional call, not a misdial.” He pulled out his wallet and handed you a business card.

“That’s not much of a payback,” you giggled weakly as you took his card.

“Then don’t just call if there’s something wrong. Call whenever. Or… or call and let me know when we can have coffee and talk so I can check up on you and make sure you’re okay.” He requested gently. He really did only mean it so he could check up on you but he couldn’t help but think that spending time with you would be nice too.

“O-okay. Sam. Thank you.” You tucked the card into your pocket.

“You’re welcome.” He pulled you into another hug. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Alright.” You hugged him back. “I’ll call you, promise,” you murmured as you released him.

“Good. Talk to you then,” he smiled as he turned and walked away. He glanced back at you one more time before turning the corner. As soon as he had vanished from sight, you shut the door and leaned back against it with a sigh. Your relief at finally being back in your dorm was short-lived because Charlie was leaned against a desk with her arms crossed.

“Oh. Charlie. Hey.”

“Yeah, ‘hey.’ So what the hell happened? What do you mean ‘he helped you?’”

“Some guy tried to follow me out of the store and so I jumped into a phone booth and locked it and tried to call you but I misdialed and Sam - that’s the guy that you just met - picked up and he helped me. He saved me.” You moved from the door to your bed, sitting down on the edge of it and grabbing the TV remote off your pillow.

“Wow. Your hero,” Charlie teased a little. “I’m glad you’re okay though…” She came over and wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. You grunted and hugged her back.

“Yeah. Shaken up, that’s for sure, but I’m fine. Go pop some popcorn, I wanna watch the damn movie now.” You turned on the TV as you spoke.

“Fine, fine,” Charlie rolled her eyes and moved over to the microwave to put in the popcorn, but not before she playfully flipped you off.

With Sam having saved you and the distractions of Charlie and the movie, you managed to calm down completely within the hour. You passed out before the movie was even over and Charlie tucked you into bed.

[justwritingsomethingsisuppose]

Innocence - Priest!Cas x reader

Title: Innocence, or Taking his Innocence

Prompt: 100 themes challenge, #8 Innocence

Pairing: Priest!Cas x Female reader

Chapter: 1/1

Rating: Explicit (very much so)

Author: justwritingsomethingsisuppose

Warnings: blasphemy, literally all blasphemy, so much of it. Alternative universe.

The church wasn’t big, but it sure was pretty. The walls within the little chapel were a pale cream color with a gold vine design bordering the top. The ceilings were tall and arched with a bronze pattern covering the arches. There were three rows of plain wooden pews. To the left and right of the pulpit were several statues: one of Jesus, one of the Virgin Mary, and one of St. Michael. On the side walls there were several tall and thin stained glass windows depicting scenes from the Bible, but just behind the pulpit was a wide intricate window depicting the crucifixion of Jesus. In the sunset, it always cast a beautiful glow of blues and greens and browns down onto the pulpit. In the back right corner of the chapel there were three confessional boxes. Only one ever really was used since so few people attended and there were only two priests.

Morning mass was never ideal for you; it began way to early and often the priest that gave the morning sermon, Father Mackey, would send you right back to sleep with his droning voice. In a small church, it’s rather easy to be noticed sleeping in a pew in the midst of a sermon.

Evening mass, however, was always rather pleasant in your opinion. It always began just before sunset and the priest that performed these sermons always managed to make them interesting when you could successfully focus on his words. His name was Father Novak. He was relatively new to the church, only having been there for a year, but ever since his arrival, you had made a point to attempt to be an evening mass regular.

Father Novak had twinkling blue eyes that crinkled at the corners with his smile. The first time you had met him while leaving a morning mass just a few weeks after he joined the church, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. He was greeting people as they filed out of the chapel, shaking hands and introducing himself to those who had yet to meet him. You remembered embarrassing yourself through your own introduction. His large warm hands had closed around one of yours when you offered a handshake and he had smiled brightly at you, those blue eyes twinkling in the morning sun filtering its way through the stained glass windows. He introduced himself and you managed to forget your own name for what felt like eternity as you tried to stutter it out in return. You couldn’t stop staring at his kind eyes.

Now, a year later, you could manage to have full conversations with him without stumbling over your words. Often you would stay after to help tidy up the pews, put hymnals and Bibles back in their places and what not, and speak with him as you both cleaned. Every Sunday after the evening service, whether you were staying to clean with him or not, he would clasp both of his big hands around your small delicate ones and declare that he was so happy to see you there that day. It never failed to make your evening.

After you tidied up the chapel, he would go and wait in his side of the confessional booth in case anyone wanted to come to confessional that evening. Few ever came. You only went once a month. That was when your stuttering and incoherency returned. His already low, husky voice sounded even deeper in that little booth, and the sound felt as though it wrapped all around you. It echoed off the wooden walls and distracted you.

At evening mass, You always sat yourself right in the first pew in the center to be as close to Father Novak as you could be. As the sun would set behind him, the glow from the stained glass window always looked like a blueish halo behind Father Novak’s perpetually messy hair. The light made him look nearly angelic and you loved it. Every time he caught your eye as he spoke, he would smile down at you.

This evening was your determined week to go to confessional. Your problem lately, however, had been coming up with convincing sins to claim to have committed. You used lying a lot. He probably believed you to be a compulsive liar by now. Your main and true sin was lust, and not only that but lust after a holy man. Often times you wondered what Father Novak’s voice would sound like rasping in your ear as those big warm hands ran along your body. You always tried to snap yourself out of your fantasies before they got any further than touching, but the thoughts were still present. You didn’t want to admit your lust to him in confessional. You didn’t want him to think you slept around or anything like that and you especially didn’t want to accidentally let slip that it was him you were lusting after.

After the service was over you stood and walked to the back where he was waiting to shake peoples hands. When Father Novak noticed you approaching, he unintentionally ignored the next few people walking by him in favor of smiling at you. You returned his smile and, once close enough, held out your hand.

“Y/N. I am so pleased to see you this evening,” he took your hand and then took your other one, despite you not offering it, and clasped his hands around yours as he spoke.

“I’m happy to see you too, Father Novak,” you stepped a little closer, allowing him to hold your hands for a few moments.

“Are you staying to help me clean?” He asked as you gently tugged your hands from his grasp.

“I can. I need to stay for confessional anyways.”

“Ah, that is today for you, isn’t it?” He smiled at more passing church-goers, shaking their hands as they moved through the door.

“Yes sir, Father,” you agreed, stepping to the side to allow people to speak with Father Novak. He didn’t respond to you other than to flash you yet another smile before turning his attention to the remaining people. He spoke with them all briefly as they passed on their way out. You only watched for a few more moments before you turned and began moving through the pews. There were some hymnals lying on the benches, crayons scattered across the floor in one pew where a child had been sitting, and a few church pamphlets strewn about here and there. You were almost done with the left row of pews when the last few people filed out. Father Novak turned to find you leaned over a pew to pick up a Bible on the floor.

“I see you started without me. In a rush, Y/N?” He chuckled as he moved to the right side of the chapel. You looked up as he spoke, goosebumps rising on your arms at the way your name sounded off his lips.

“Of course not, Father,” you smiled towards him briefly.

“Good,” he smiled and then fell silent as he, too, started to pick up scattered books and papers.

Barely five minutes later, the pews were back in order. A line of four people who had stayed behind for confession had formed just beyond the chapel door.

“Since you’re already in here, would you like to make your confession first, Y/N?” Father Novak asked.

“Oh… er, no, thank you. If it’s alright with you, I’d rather sit in here and pray for a while. You can take the others first,” you offered, fiddling with the skirt on your white dress.

“Of course,” he nodded and walked over to the chapel doors, gesturing to the few people waiting that they could re-enter the chapel. One made his way into the confessional, the other three sat in the very back pew to wait their turn. You sat in the middle and began to think. You could hear Father Novak walk out of the chapel and into the hall where his side of the confessional opened, and you heard the door shut, and then hardly any noise at all. You closed your eyes and said a short prayer before trying to determine what sins you could confess. Other than, of course, your lusting after the priest.

You managed to come up with a few that were truthful, things that you had actually done wrong, and seemed good enough to get you through confession just in time for the last of the other four people to come and tap your shoulder to inform you that the confessional was now open if you were ready to take your turn. You mumbled a polite ‘thank you’ before making your way to the confessional. You slid inside and sat down, listening to the quiet click of the door as you pulled it shut. The interior of the confessional was dark and you could make out his silhouette through the thick screen that separated you from him. A long moment of silence followed where you could hear Father Novak breathing. It halfway escaped your mind that you were, in fact, supposed to speak. Finally Father Novak cleared his throat and that jolted you into action.

“Father bless me for I have sinned. It has been four weeks since my last confession,” you squeaked out all at once. A moment later you remembered to make the sign of the cross.

“Tell me your sins, child,” came his reply. His voice rolled off the wooden walls and managed to distract you yet again. You stayed silent for a moment.

“Uh…” you wracked your brain to remember what you had planned to confess. “I… recently have been forgetting to pray every day as… as I should be doing. I curse thoughtlessly, often accidentally taking The Lord’s name in vain. I have been procrastinating some of my responsibilities. I have lied again… and… and I have been willfully distracted during mass.” You had been feeling more and more guilty about not fully confessing your sins in the confessional, but you couldn’t very well tell Father Novak about your fantasies of him. Distracted during mass was a pretty good and generalized way to describe it, you thought. “Father, for these sins and the sins I have forgotten I ask God’s forgiveness, your absolution, and penance to help right the wrongs I have done.” You finished, surprisingly with minimal stuttering in your words.

“Your penance is to say three ‘Hail Mary’ prayers in this confession before your priest and before God,” Father Novak commanded. You shuddered in your seat before starting your penance.

You stumbled your way through the prayers, mixing up words and stuttering here and there, but managed to get through all three.

“I absolve you of your sins,” he stated finally. You let out a quiet sigh of relief and stood from the seat.

“Thank you, Father,” you said quickly as you opened the confessional door and exited into the chapel. You could also hear him exiting the confessional and moving down the hallway. You knew he would want to bid you adieu before you left so you waited in the doorway of the chapel for him to appear.

When he finally came back into view, he did not smile at you as you expected. His stern expression caught you off guard and before you could offer a goodbye, you found yourself questioning him instead. “Father? Is everything alright?” Your voice came out smaller than intended.

“Yes…” he trailed off, tilting his head at you. “I am simply… concerned about you,” he continued.

“C-concerned?” you managed out, furrowing your brow. Had you hinted at something without meaning to in your confession? Were you in trouble?

“You mentioned being willfully distracted during mass, and yet you always seem so enraptured by my sermon whenever I look at you.”

“Oh. Oh, um…” you floundered for a reason and came up short. “Um…”

“What is distracting you?” he prodded gently, blue eyes filled with sweet concern.

You continued to wrack your brain and finally just stammered out, “J-just wan-ndering thoughts, F-Father…”

“Wandering thoughts? Would you like to share these thoughts? Perhaps I can help you determine a method to prevent your thoughts from wandering during mass…”

“N-no!” you declared quickly. He raised an eyebrow at your sudden outburst. “I mean… it’s… it’s only happened once or twice and I-I’ll try my best to keep my attention on what you’re saying rather than y-” you cut yourself off and took a deep breath, “rather than allowing my thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t.” He stared at you in silence for a moment.

“If you’re sure…”

“Very sure, Father N-Novak.”

“Alright, Y/N. You may go now then.” He adjusted the white collar around his throat, allowing his eyes to tear away from your face and admire your dress for a moment. He looked at your eyes once again, having expected you to scramble away quickly. However you seemed almost frozen underneath his gaze. You were staring at him in the same enraptured way you always seemed to be looking at him during his services. His eyes met yours. “Y/N…?” He asked softly, intending to question why you had yet to leave.

“Huh?” You blinked at him slowly.

“Are you going to leave…? You can stay for a while if you’d like, the chapel is always open, but…” he trailed off.

“Oh,” you blinked again and turned your gaze to the floor. A blush slowly crept its way up your cheeks. “Yes, I’ll… um, I’ll leave, thank you Father.” You quickly tried to walk to the door, making it several feet past the priest, but unfortunately stumbled over your high heels. You started to fall towards the floor, a startled noise escaping your throat. Before you had fallen hardly a foot, Father Novak had darted up behind you and thrown his arms about your waist, pulling you back up to your feet and against his chest. He left his arms around you to keep you supported until you could regain your footing.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently. With you being in high heels, you weren’t too much shorter than him, so his lips were right next to your ear. You stiffened up in his grasp, lips parted in surprise. “Y/N?” It was low and husky in your ear and you couldn’t help the involuntary quiet moan that slipped out at the sound of your name on his lips in such a tone right by your ear. His eyes widened in shock at the sound he heard and he, too, froze in place.

Several seconds ticked by, the clock in the hall sounding out the seconds as the hand moved round, and neither of you moved an inch. You were the first to speak after these seconds had passed.

“I-I am so sorry, Father, please,” you stammered out, pleading for his forgiveness. You felt so embarrassed and humiliated in that moment, all you wanted to do was go home and hide in your bed and never return to the church again. You squirmed in his grasp.

“Be still,” he breathed out, lips still near your ear. You immediately stilled in his arms. Your body was warm and soft in his arms, filling him up with a lust he had sworn to never act upon in favor of becoming a priest of the Catholic Church. You had caught his eye from the first day he met you here but he assumed you only saw him as an overly-friendly priest and he had never planned to think any further than that. But… you being distracted in mass while still appearing so enraptured by him, your constant stammering when you were alone together and close as in the confessional, and now this moan all pieced together in his mind. ‘Is Y/N attracted to me?’

“Father…” you whispered out, trying to get his attention. He realized that he had been thinking too long and he finally removed his arms from your waist. Instead, he took one of your hands gently and turned you to face him.

“Am I the cause of your distraction during mass?” He asked softly, looking you in the eyes. The blush was still present on your cheeks and seemed to darken at his question.

“Wh-why would you… I… y-you…” you stuttered for a moment before sighing in resignation, “yes, Father Novak…” You looked down at the floor and squeezed his hand gently as though to apologize. He squeezed yours in return.

“Look at me,” he demanded. At first you could not bring yourself to look up at him, but after a long pause you finally did. He used his other hand to cup your jaw. He squinted at you, fighting his urge to kiss you. He lost the fight. He slowly leaned in and pressed his slightly chapped plump lips against your soft ones. A soft mewl of surprise bubbled up in your throat but you flung your free arm around his neck and pulled him closer, taking advantage of the opportunity.

Father Novak’s lips were hesitant against yours, having only ever kissed once before, long before his decision to enter the priesthood. After only a few seconds he pulled back. He released your hand and instead slid both arms around your waist to keep you close. You did the same around his neck. You never thought you’d have the opportunity to touch him beyond your usual handshake. His hair was soft where it brushed against your fingers. The black shirt collar was stiff under your hands and you desperately wanted to touch his bare skin instead but didn’t want to ask him to go any further. You knew he was breaking his vows just kissing you.

“Father Novak-”

“Castiel.” He interrupted you.

“What?” You brow furrowed in confusion.

“My name is Castiel Novak. I think at the moment I would prefer you to call me my first name rather than my title.”

“Oh. Castiel…” You breathed his name softly in awe. “C-can you… kiss me again…?” you asked hesitantly, playing with his hair. He smiled a bit and squeezed your waist gently.

“Of course.” He leaned in and kissed you again, still hesitant. You parted your lips and lightly brushed your tongue against his lower lip, wanting him to deepen the kiss. He made a low noise in his throat and parted his lips as well, sliding his tongue against yours. Your hands fisted in the rough material of his shirt and you pressed your body closer to his. His fingers brushed lightly over the material of the dress covering your hips. After a moment he slowly started walking you backwards, never breaking the kiss, until he had you back against a wall. You gasped in surprise when your back pressed up against the wall, breaking the kiss. He tilted his head and started to pull away, worried he might be going too far for you.

“My apologies, Y/N…” he mumbled, his own cheeks covered in a light blush as well. You shook your head and grabbed his hands, putting them back on your waist.

“It’s fine, F-… uh, Castiel. Please.” You grabbed onto his shirt, lightly playing with the top button up by his white collar. He took a deep and shaky breath before he nodded. He reached up to where your hand was on his shirt and took the collar off, setting it aside. Then he started undoing the buttons slowly, much to your surprise.

Nothing was beneath it but his bare chest, and when he let his shirt slide off his arms you immediately pressed your hands against his warm torso. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss just under his jaw. He gasped softly at the gentle kiss and tipped his head back a little, inviting you to do it again. You did, kissing down his neck and across his collarbone slowly as your hands trailed over his chest. Every so often you would flick your thumbs over his nipples and each time he would gasp a little louder, making you grin.

Castiel’s hands slid up and down your sides slowly as you continued kissing his neck and the top of his chest. In a moment of boldness, he slid his hands up higher to gently cup your breasts. He felt your lips stall against his neck for only a moment before you resumed with a soft noise of approval. Suddenly you were adding teeth and tongue into your kisses, only lightly, but the little nips to his - apparently quite sensitive - neck made him jump and his knees wobble a little.

“P-perhaps we should… should sit down somewhere…” He managed to grunt out. You hummed in agreement and nipped at his collar bone one last time before you pushed his chest gently, guiding him into the chapel. Neither of you spared a moment’s thought to the fact that you were still within the church, not even Father Novak, or to the fact that the front doors were unlocked and someone could enter at any moment to catch a shirtless priest with one of his congregation shoving him into a pew and then crawling onto him to straddle his lap.

Your lips pressed against his once again in a deep kiss. His eyes slid closed and he groaned against your lips. His hands found rest on your thighs and after a moment slowly pushed the skirt of your dress up to your hips. Your skin was soft under his rough, gentle hands.

You rolled your hips down against his. He let out a deep groan as your barely-covered sex ground down against his growing erection. His pants were of the same rough material as his shirt and you whined, wanting it gone. You broke the kiss and reached down, yanking his belt and button and zipper open. You slid off his lap and started tugging off your dress, expecting him to take the initiative and remove his pants while you were undressing. You tossed the dress to the floor and reached behind you to remove your bra. You met his eyes and found that he hadn’t moved since you got up, watching you rather than undressing himself.

“Castiel, please, your pants,” you breathed out as you unclipped your bra. You let it fall and that seemed to snap him into action. He shyly looked away from your bare chest, feeling awkward and nervous and inexperienced, and began to struggle out of his pants. He managed to get them past his knees where he then kicked them off along with his shoes. This left him in nothing but a pair of socks. Even his chest appeared to be flushed and you giggled softly at the sight of it. Now fully undressed except for your high heels, you knelt on the floor in front of him. He looked at you in confusion, unsure of what you meant to do knelt on the floor. You smiled sweetly before reaching out and gently grasping his cock in your hand. He gasped loudly and his hips unintentionally bucked up.

“Y-Y/N…” He groaned your name as you started to slowly stroke him. His head fell back for a brief moment before he lifted it again, wanting to look at you still. He met your eyes and held them, moaning loudly. It echoed slightly in the otherwise silent chapel. He could recall the few times he masturbated in high school, clumsy and awkward, and he could remember deciding he would rather ignore it than act on it once he decided that he wanted to be a priest after he finished school. He had managed to avoid it since, and now felt extremely sensitive to the sensation of a hand on his cock. His thighs trembled a bit and he felt like he could explode if you didn’t stop. He reached down and grabbed your hand to stop you from continuing.

“Castiel?” You asked softly, worried you had pushed him too far. You pulled your hand back and stood up again. He looked up at you and, in a split second decision, he stood up and picked you up on the way. He had you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “C-Cas!” You exclaimed in surprise. He smiled a bit at the nickname as he started walking to the front of the chapel. He then laid you down on the top of the altar at the front of the room, hovering over you.

“You are the most beautiful creation on this planet,” he breathed against your lips before softly kissing you again. Your cheeks heated up at such a compliment. Before you could kiss him back, he was slowly kissing his way down your body. His lips lingered at your breasts but he passed by them down your stomach. He stopped short of your pussy, holding still with his eyes closed and lips so close to your clit, too nervous at the moment due to his inexperience to continue. You reached down and soothingly ran a hand through his short hair. He opened his eyes to look up at you and you offered a reassuring smile. That set him back in motion and he allowed his lips to fall against your clit. You gasped quietly and fisted your hand in his hair. He took note of your reaction and this time used his tongue to flick out against your clit. You let out a shaky moan in response. Eagerly he began showering your clit with attention from his lips and tongue, relishing in your sweet moans and the tugs on his hair that he took as a plea to continue.

He slid his hands along your thighs slowly as he continued. Once or twice he allowed his fingertips to brush against your opening. He could feel how wet you were each time and it made him groan in anticipation.

“Castiel…” you shakily moaned out his name and as you did, he took the opportunity to slowly slip a finger into your pussy. You gasped and your back arched up off the altar. “Cas…!” You called again, tugging sharply on his hair. He made low noises in his throat at each tug and increased his efforts. Unwittingly he brushed his finger against your g-spot and your hips bucked up against his face. “Cas! Please, please… oh fuck…”

He stilled his finger, thinking for a brief moment that he had hurt you, but at your pleading he shifted his finger against the same spot and you moaned again. “So close, Castiel, please…” You whimpered. He slid a second finger into you and began to thrust his fingers against your g-spot, resuming his oral attack on your clit. A moment later you cried out loudly, both hands moving away from him to smack flat against the altar as you came. He lifted his head up to watch your face. You finally settled back down against the altar, panting heavily.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly. He stood up and moved along the altar to stand over you and look down at you.

“Yeah… that was incredible…” you breathed quietly. Castiel’s face lit up a bit at the praise.

“I am glad to hear that.” He brushed some sweaty hair away from your forehead and you smiled. You both remained like that for a moment before you spoke again,

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” you asked quite bluntly. He almost choked on his breath.

“I… do you want me to?” He asked softly.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Please…”

“Okay…” he shifted nervously on his feet. You noticed the uncertain look on his face.

“Cas, switch places with me,” you commanded gently as you slid down off the altar.

“Huh?” he looked at you questioningly. Shaking your head, you gently guided him to lay down on top of the altar. “What…?”

“Hush, Cas.” You climbed onto the altar and straddled his hips. With a grin you rolled your hips down against his, rubbing your center against his cock. His eyes widened and his lips parted in a soft moan. You smirked at the look on his face. You lifted your hips and lined yourself up over his cock and then slowly sank down onto him. He made a sound like the wind had been knocked out of him and he dropped his head back, thunking it against the hard wood of the altar. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Look at me, Cas,” you murmured softly, trailing your hands over his chest. He opened his eyes and stared up at you. You smiled softly down at him as you started to rock your hips slowly.

“Oh Y/N…” He breathed out your name and moved his hands to grab your hips. You kept your hands pressed flat to his chest to support yourself. He moaned loudly. “Y/N,” he called again. You keened out a moan in response.

“Cas, fuck… feel amazing…” you gasped out. He suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist and smashing his lips against yours. The kiss turned to moaning and gasping and panting against each other's lips as you sped up, starting to bounce on his cock now, your foreheads pressed together.

“Y/N… oh, oh… Y/N…” Each of his moans was punctuated with a gasped version of your name. “So beautiful…” He moved one hand to cup your face.

“Ca-as, Castiel, fuck…!” You clenched around him and simultaneously slammed your lips against his once again, slipping your tongue between his lips. He bucked his hips up sharply. The hand that he held against your back curled into a fist, scratching you lightly for a moment.

“Y/N, I f-feel… oh… close…” he managed to grind out between moans against your lips.

“Come, baby, come on.” You moved your lips and nipped and sucked just below his jaw. He tossed his head back and with a loud, long moan he came, hips bucking up against yours. He pulled you down against him and you threw your arms around his neck, clinging to him as his orgasm triggered a second one for you.

You both clung to one another for several minutes, panting and trembling slightly. Castiel seemed to be struck speechless.

“Cas?” You asked softly, pulling your head back to look at his face. His already perpetually messy hair was now sticking out everywhere and the back of his neck was damp with sweat.

“Hm?” He blinked at you slowly. “Yes?”

“You okay…?”

“Fantastic,” he replied with a soft smile.

“Good.” You returned his smile, followed by a quick kiss to his lips. “We should get cleaned up…” You carefully slipped off his lap. He made a protesting noise as his cock slid out of you.

“I suppose we should.” He got down off the altar and looked around. It was then that he seemed to remember where he was and who he was. “Oh…” he made an unhappy noise in his throat and quickly moved to the pew in which you got undressed. You followed after with a worried crease in your brow.

Castiel gathered up both of your clothing and led you down the hall to his office. “There’s a bathroom attached, the door is in the corner.” He gestured towards the back corner of his office. “Here,” he separated your clothes and returned yours to you.

“Don’t you need to clean up too? You’re a bit sweaty, Cas…” You reached up and gently stroked his cheek. His eyes slid shut and he sighed.

“I suppose so,” he gently grabbed your hand from his cheek, using it to guide you into the bathroom. He laid his clothes in a pile on the floor. He grabbed a few paper towels and turned on the sink, dampening them and handing a couple to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You laid your clothes on top of his and took the towels from him. You used one to wipe sweat off your neck and chest and then the other to wipe up between your legs. You glanced at Castiel and he was doing the same with his towels. You tossed yours into the trash by the toilet and then began to get dressed. Castiel turned his back to you as he, too, began to put his clothes back on as though he were suddenly shy about you seeing him naked. “... Cas?” you called his name softly.

“Hm?” He didn’t look at you, adjusting and buttoning his black shirt.

“Are you angry?” Your voice shrunk, worried that he was angry at you. He quickly turned to stare at you in shock.

“What?? What on Earth would I be angry about?” He tilted his head at you in confusion.

“Well, you… we… we just had sex on the altar in your church and… and you’re a priest and all… doesn’t that break your vows?”

“Yes, it does,” he sighed, “but why would that make me angry at you?”

“Because I tempted you into it.”

“If I didn’t want to do it I would have been able to restrain myself. It isn’t your fault and I am absolutely not upset at you.”

“Are you upset at yourself?”

“I am not upset with myself. I am… disappointed that I broke my vows. I will have to beg for forgiveness for that, especially having debauched a church. But…” he stepped closer to you and held out his arms. You hesitated before stepping into his arms, accepting the hug. “Y/N… you have held my attention and my fancy for a year. I have… fantasized… about you. Sinful things. I already knew that I was in danger of breaking my vows because of you, whether it be because I decided to masturbate to take care of myself or because this happened. I could only hope it would be this.”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed because of me, or in trouble,” you murmured into his chest.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He kissed the top of your head before releasing you. You finished dressing, pulling your dress on. “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him. He reached around behind you and zipped the dress up.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” He asked, brow furrowed. “Or a movie? What would you like to do? I have never taken someone on a date, my knowledge is based purely on movies.” He looked at you hopefully. You giggled at him.

“Okay… I mean, if you won’t get in trouble or… or anything…”

“Don’t worry about that. I will handle it all. I want to take you out somewhere.” He grabbed your hand gently.

“Alright. Uh, I’ll write down my phone number, do you have paper in your office?”

“I certainly hope I do.” He led you out of the bathroom to the desk in his office. He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and held it out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You scribbled down your number and then after a moment’s hesitation your address as well.

“Does Friday sound okay to you?”

“Yeah. Seven?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. You can pick the activity we do.” He took the paper from your hands and folded it up neatly. He tucked it into his pocket. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?” He asked as you put down the pen on his desk.

“Yeah that’d be great.” You nodded and held out your hand for his. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently and then releasing it.

“I can’t hold your hand, someone may have come in or may be out in the parking lot.”

“Ah, right. Sorry.” You turned to walk out of his office but he grabbed you and pulled you back gently.

“Can I kiss you again?” he breathed softly.

“Please do,” you nodded eagerly and tipped your head up. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly for a moment. You made a soft protesting noise when he broke the kiss too soon.

“Let’s go.” He led you out to the parking lot and then to your car. He waved goodbye and then went back to the chapel to clean up the altar, immediately kneeling down before it to pray for forgiveness and to apologize because he absolutely didn’t regret it.

[justwritingsomethingsisuppose]

Beauty and the Beast - Crowley x reader, CH1

Title: Beauty and the Beast

Prompt: 100 themes challenge; #36, Fairy Tale

Pairing: Crowley x Female Reader

Chapter: 1/? (I’ll work more on this while writing for the other 100 themes, so new chapters are likely to be slow)

Rating: Currently PG, will eventually be upped

Author: justwritingsomethingsisuppose

Warnings: Violence at some point, body image issues, I’m ripping this off both movies and the Beastly movie and the og story so thats a warning too, good luck. Re-writing this off a 5 year old story. Alternative universe.

Once upon a time, in a land faraway, a young prince lived in a shining castle. His name was Fergus, and he was destined to be the king after his father and mother, King Lucifer and Queen Rowena, passed away. Although the young prince had everything his heart desired, he was spoiled and selfish and unkind.

One winters night, a cold and wicked storm rolled over the forest their castle resided in. Freezing winds whipped at the shaking windows and stone walls. Prince Fergus seemed to care not as he pranced about the castle, pretending to sword fight an imaginary dragon with one of the fireplace pokers.

Late into the evening, a knock at the castle door echoed through the main hall. Fergus lowered his fireplace-poker-sword to his side and watched from the staircase as a servant rushed to answer the knock.

The door swinging open revealed a woman, hair gray and back bent with her old age.

“What do you want?” Prince Fergus’ young voice echoed through the hall with his demanding question. The old woman looked up, first laying her eyes on the servant holding the door open, then moving them to find the young prince. Her once-brown eyes were clouded over as if she were going blind.

“I need shelter from the cold,” she croaked out. Her voice barely made it to Prince Fergus’ ears, but he heard enough.

“Why would I allow you, a haggard old thing, stay in my castle??” He crossed his arms, the fireplace poker still in hand almost like a threat.

“I will give you, in return, this rose,” she held up a single beautifully red flower. It shook along with her hand as she revealed it to him.

All he did was laugh at her.

“Are you joking, you absolute hag?? I am the royal prince of these lands! What use have I for a single rose?!”

“Do not be deceived by my appearance, young one. Beauty is found within,” she flashed him a grin, revealing that she had no teeth. Prince Fergus gagged dramatically at the sight. He stepped rapidly down the stairs and rushed up to the door. He shoved away the servant tending the door with a disgusted sound and grasped the door handle with his free hand, his light brown eyes staring fiercely at the woman.

“You possess no beauty, and you have nothing to offer me. My castle will have no hags within its walls tonight!!” And with those words, he slammed the heavy wooden door shut in the old woman’s face. “The utter audacity… how dare she?!” He grumbled to himself as he turned around.

“I am no hag, boy!” A voice echoed through the room and his eyes darted around in fear. He flattened his back to the closed door.

“Leave me be, witch! I will not have you here!” His eyes still searched frantically, searching for the once-quiet old woman. Her voice seemed to be right next to his ear and coming from outside and coming from the entryway and coming from everywhere at once.

“Beauty is found within. There is no love in your heart; you only desire the things in your life that appear beautiful. You have no care or compassion for the ones that need you despite their appearances.” Her voice seemed to grow less shaky and more youthful as she spoke. All at once, a blazing light appeared before him that then faded away to reveal the form of the old hag.

“Please, witch, leave me be, please!” His voice was no longer demanding, but pleading. Before his eyes, her saggy muddy skin seemed to tighten and the deep chocolate tone returned. Her gray hair slowly flushed a deep brown. The curve of her back slowly straightened up. Her once-cloudy eyes slowly brightened and turned to black. When she opened her mouth to speak, she had teeth. She was beautiful now.

“You will learn to see the beauty within.” She stated.

“Please, I am sorry! You may shelter from the cold in my castle! I am certain my father will not mind! Please!” He shouted his fearful apology to her. His brown eyes began to water, lip trembling.

“You will learn to see the beauty within.” She repeated, outstretching her right hand. The glow encased the room once again and then a shrill whistle filled his ears.

The whistle was her voice, heightened and repeating her phrase and his designated punishment.

His punishment was to be turned into a hideous beast. His skin ripped and shredded and his bones bent and writhed as his body changed from that of a young 16 year old man to that of a demon.

Through the entire transformation, Prince Fergus screamed. All he could hear was the voice of the witch and his own skin ripping apart. All he could see was the brilliant glow of her powers enveloping him. All he could taste was his own blood as his teeth elongated and sharpened, cutting his gums and his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

His face felt like it was on fire.

“You must learn to love someone other than yourself, and you must earn their love in return, before the last petal falls from this rose. Else, you will forever remain a reflection of your inner self. Prince Fergus, good luck.” Her voice echoed in his mind loudly, only to fade out and be replaced by horrified screams mixed with his own pained sobs.

His mother, Queen Rowena, had been fetched and brought down by the doorman who had realized something was wrong. She had frozen in place on the stairs when her eyes fell upon her disfigured son. Her screams rattled the prince into opening his eyes, which were now glowing red.

“Mother! Mother please, help me!” He cried out to her, but she could merely stare in horror.

“Noooo… my dear little Fergus…” she groaned out before fainting. The doorman caught her before she could collapse down the stairs.

Fergus forced himself to stand despite the pain in his legs. The sound of hooves on wood surprised him and he looked down at his feet, only to discover two black cloven hooves where his feet used to be. His legs seemed to be covered with thick, light brown hair all the way down to those hooves.

“M-mother?!” His voice sounded deeper, almost raspy despite his youth. He lifted his shaking hands up from his sides to stare at them - what were once delicate and thin white fingers were now grayed sunken skin ending in long hooked claws. The grayed skin continued up his arms to his shoulders where it faded back to white but began to appear riddled with thick, raised, red scars. His head and his back felt heavy where a pair of thick leathery wings and a great many horns had sprouted through his skin. He stumbled a bit in place before he looked up at the doorman holding his mother. “Wh… what am I??” he asked. The doorman just jerked his head while his jaw hung agape, fearful of the once-princely creature before him.

His parents did all they could to heal him. They called in a doctor, a healer, a man who claimed to be a miracle worker, and as a last resort a witch. None could remove his disfigurements. His skull adorned now with horns, his face now appeared as though it were burned, his chest scarred, his arms aged, his fingers tipped with claws, his back bearing wings, his legs now those of a goat or deer.

He was well and truly stuck as a monster.

That night, they had found the rose laying delicately in the center of the foyer. His mother had preserved it in a vase, hoping to extend its life and ensure her son wouldn’t die. The rose never seemed to wilt, a faint red glow surrounding the dainty little flower and seemingly keeping it alive.

After a year, the king and queen moved from the forest to their summer castle on the coast. They promised to visit, and they did at first. Over time, their visits went from once monthly, to once every third month, to once a year, to… none. Even their letters stopped. He lived alone in that castle for twenty years, only a small remaining and aging staff to care for him, until he finally got news: both his parents had finally passed and left behind the heir to their throne, a princess named Megan, eighteen years of age and ready to marry one Prince Azazel from another kingdom to unite the two and gain the throne.

The servants remaining tried to keep him happy, to get him adjusted to his life this way, but to no avail. One of the servants, the castle’s hunter, even created an intricate mask for him from the head of a large goat he had killed. The mask had two horns on it and holes for the horns in the princes head to slide through so that it would all look like a costume piece, and it hid his burned face from the world. All for nothing; despite that the prince wore it every day, he was ever grumpier. Prince Fergus grew angry and bitter and frustrated. One by one, he ended the employment of the servants until none were left but two: Guthrie, his butler and one so loyal that even though the prince had fired him several times and told him to leave under threat of death the man refused to leave, and Raul, who prepared every single meal. The prince likely would never have eaten if Raul had left.

Twenty years of quiet, of being virtually alone, of slowly watching the rose wilt petal by petal. He believed he held no chance of ever breaking the curse over his head.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?