#genevieve re shirt

[fiercerthanyou]

“Resilience: Living in a Pandemic since 1492” (2021),

Osceola Red Shirt (Oglala Lakota) and Genevieve Red Shirt (Rosebud Sioux, Chickasaw, Taíno) ,  

Wicket and Craig tooling leather, glass, metal, sweet grass, thread, hand-painted imitation eagle feathers, ermine pelts, red wool, red horsehair, buckskin leather, re-purposed Buffalo felt hat. 

Collection of Agnes Hsu-Tang, PhD and Oscar Tang

Photo by Two Guns Leather

[lightofraye]

Debunking Nonsense Against Jared

There's apparently some crap about Jared that is just absolute nonsense. Full of lies and bullshit.

It'd be one thing if people just didn't like him. It happens. Not everyone is likeable. You're not expected to like him. But don't pull up lies to explain why you don't like him. Especially when they've been debunked again and again and again.

1. The "racist" tattoo. Y'all, this is nonsense. It's been debunked over and over and over. It's not a racist tattoo. For one, it's lacking the logo of "Come and take it", which would make it a racist tattoo. But a lone star above a cannon does not a racist tattoo make.

Jared is a proud Texan. He also donates to many a charity and organization that help people, speaking out about them often. Not to mention, prior to pro-gun rights appropriating the symbol and logo, it stood for a proud history in Texas. Jared would've known.

So how about instead of focusing on a mere tattoo, come up with more proof that Jared is a racist? Hmm?

Besides, if you're mad at Jared's tattoo, are you then mad at Jensen's t-shirt, which did show the saying as well?

2. Fighting with fans online. Oh come on. Misha's done it. (Misha's done worse, in fact.) Danneel's done it. Jared doing it does not a bad person make. And I don't think he's done it in a long time.

And of course, people will go "Danneel was hitting back!" And? What's the difference? Jared was hitting back too. Danneel went a step farther most of the time, siccing her followers on them, threatening them with Clif, even ran crying to Clif because people were being "mean".

3. RE: Prequelgate. Give me a fucking break! Jared was right to be upset! He called and texted Jensen for hours before he gave up and responded to that tweet about The Winchesters announcement. Jensen also lied about not being allowed cellphones on The Boys set. When they weren't filming, they were allowed. (Of course they can't have their cellphones on their person during filming, unless it suited the scene!) Besides all that, Jared honestly didn't know about it! Kripke was even shocked when he learned Jared didn't know! Supernatural and its legacy is as much Jared's as it was Jensen's! The whole freakin' industry gave Jensen a massive side-eye for his unprofessional behavior. Kevin Smith, a man who has directed, written, and acted in the industry, thought it was uncool. Also, Jared wasn't drunk.

4. Supposed bully accusations. I'd need to see more of this to believe it, but outside of occasionally putting Misha in his bullshit place, I've never heard of Jared bullying anyone. Everyone he's worked with has sung his praises. The only one who hasn't is Misha and that's because Jared won't let Misha put him down. And in fact, has had to step in to stop Misha from torturing Jensen. So fuck off with your noise.

5. His fanbase. Is he now responsible for his fanbase? I never knew that. What about Misha's fanbase sending Jensen death threats for denouncing Destiel? Has Misha ever stopped that? What about AAs hoping for Jared to suicide after Walker was cancelled?

6. What about Genevieve? Oh come on! Do I like that Gen is featuring the kids a lot? Myself, no. But if Jared was truly bothered by it, I'm sure he would've spoken to Genevieve. And Gen isn't any different than many other mommy influencers. I'm not keen on exploiting the kids like that, but would you say the same about Danneel abruptly grabbing the kids at Wales Comic Con and dragging them out for a photo op? All because she had no one in line for her autographs and desperate for attention?

7. Jared's Hair. Apparently there are some claiming Jared had gotten hair plugs. My response to that is: So what? Misha's had plastic surgery (trust me, it's obvious--his eyes and clearly lip fillers). Danneel's had worse--her hair is fried, bad extensions, plastic surgery galore that has ruined her hair line because of facelifts, fillers, Botox, and breast implants (twice!). Jensen's likely had a bit of work too.

So. Fucking. What. About Jared's hair?

--

Come up with truthful reasons to hate Jared, hmm? Not bullshit.

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty Ch. 13

A Homelander x F! Reader/Dadlander fic

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this whole story this is officially the final chapter but I've written an epilogue and should post that soonish as well as a part 2 of my masterlist. Hope y'all enjoy this story a smuch as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 13

Love

He’s more than grateful for his suit as your hand tried to choke the life out of him– only pulling on his collar as you screamed in agony. The epidural had done jack shit, and now you found yourself relieving some terrible memories only this time you could actually curse at the bastard responsible for it all.

Homelander had barely made a sound, keeping sight of the newborn as your muscles pushed and the doctor’s hands jammed themselves inside you to take the head, your tears, screams and curses nothing but white nose, he only wanted to hear the sound of new cries.

The blanket obscuring the sight for you, he looked back at you catching your brain and skull until he shut it off.

“Why isn’t she crying…?” you panted, your body shivering and the pain burning your entire lower half feeling your body trying to re-adjust and struggling with it– John…?”

The doctor and the nurse took the baby rubbing its back and clearing its airways, Homelander just broke the side of the bed into a fine dust as he awaited for any sound.

Any sound other than your spiked blood pressure.

It was all so silent, even if everything was screaming around him.

‘cough’

Wet coughs, and then crying.

His sight following their sullied hands wrapping her on a towel as they brought the wriggling and screaming mass towards you, you sobbed with a smile as the baby screamed, Homelander winced as her cries were more than just deafening, they were rattling the thinnest parts of the equipment surrounding youse, you cringed bringing a weak hand to your ear as the baby whimpers teased the arrival of a banshee.

“That’s going to be a problem.” you said weakly, holding the baby closer to your face as her cries lowered in intensity– hi… hi… Genevieve…”

You tried not to cry but you couldn’t help it as you finally were able to hold her.

Homelander was unable to look away as he caught her pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair.

He threw his remaining glove wherever wanting to hold her, you passed her still connected to her towards him as his whole body leaned towards you in desperate anticipation.

Crying without making a sound, his eyes unblinking as his daughter squinted, she had a lot of hair for a newborn, even some eyebrows too– just like in Helena’s pictures Helena, he thought.

His hands finally felt the rush, he whimpered as his finger touched the fresh skin cooling down, cleaning some of the spit forming on the corners of her mouth.

Homelander could have stood like this for hours if not days, just watching her, just wanting to cement this memory so deep into his being that he could feel her weightlessness forever.

He had no clue what to say, putting her against his chest wishing he had worn a paper thin t-shirt instead of wanting to make a good first impression.

“Fuck.” He wiped the buggers under his nose, trying to breathe and calm down– hey… buddy… princess…” his body shaking more than his voice.

He kissed her forehead, wanting to keep her against him, his eyes shut, he just wanted to remain in this embrace for the rest of his life, that’s until the nurse asked for the baby, his eyes glowed, leaning away from her.

“Hey! Hey! is okay they have to clean her up!” you took his arm.

He looked so spooked, his skin so pale and his expression mortified at the thought of these disinfectant stenched people touching his baby, the nurse gulped as the blinkers refused to turn off.

The room seemed so white and sterile, everything seemed dangerously familiar, his mind thinking he would never see her again if he let them touch her. Did his mother feel the same? Did they rip him away from her or did his mother not even notice… did she not feel this dread? He wondered.

“He can help clean her up, no?” You were too tired to be nervous.

She nodded violently, like a herded lamb he followed the nurse not wanting to let the baby away from his sight.

You could only half-smile as you watched him try his best to follow the nurses, tearing up as the baby complained, his movements too brusk he swore, god knows how bad he was going to get, after you got to take her home.

Ashley looked at the time, ordering your staff around to triple check everything was perfect– that the house wasn’t too bright or loud, no faucet leaked, that not a single speck of dust would be found, that the beds were made and the new pillows were ready, but above that the nursery was set up. Your sitting room had been made into an informal nursery while Helena’s office was returned into a bedroom. Ashley personally inspecting the room making sure everything was perfect– the dark but elaborate wallpaper was spotless, soft and cozy furnishings ready for you, the vintage cot tidy, and all the organic and biodegradable baby cleaning products a person could get their hands on were still unopened. She took a pack of organic 98% water baby wipes squeezing it to make sure it was still wet inside.

“You could have sent an assistant or let the maids take care of this, auntie Ashley.”

She turned to Helena trying not to fluster, her speech manners never failing to make her uneasy, especially after seeing how trigger happy she was in the labs.

She had seen her leftovers.

The failures that had been flattened for easy disposal– she didn’t doubt this was his kid.

“Homelander entrusted me with making sure everything was perfect… and he’s been in a wonderful mood lately… he even hasn’t left any collateral in the last two months!”

“Sure… but I guess him being extra happy means everybody can breathe easily… considering he’s taking 7 months of paternity leave. Already booked that trip to Costa Rica?”

“Actually doing Puerto Rico, instead.”  She smiled.

The idea of not seeing Homelander for over half the year, had a good chunk of the building ready to whip out the champagne bottles and turn the whole place into a never ending New Years party, so she was more than happy to go the extra mile.

“You wanna bet twenty bucks he drags that second cot into the bedroom by the end of the day?” She takes a clean crisp bill out of her dungaree.

“Deal.” 

Her phone buzzed.

“He’s here!”

Helena and Ashley rushed to the stairs, a bit unfair if only one of them could jump from the fourth floor effortlessly-- Helena stopped only by a gentle bubble wrapping her, Ryan straightened his shirt having beaten the both of them to the race.

“Did ya brush your hair?” Ryan asked at the sight of his sister.

“I don’t know how to tell you this but a newborn will not remember how my hair looked like.”

“Your funeral then.”

That felt like half a joke and half a reprimand, she looked at her clothes, the maids had picked her a red dungaree, and a black turtleneck not to mention her shoes had been polished she looked fine despite the messy hair, Homelander had wanted everybody to make a perfect first impression and after two days in the hospital god knew what sort of mood he was on.

The doors opened, you entered slightly dazed and glad when Helena jumped to your side, pulling at your sweatshirt, you wished to pick her up but you had little strength so you bended until you could kiss her head, she cooed under your touch, her gaze quickly headed towards the basket in her father hand, and the light sounds emanating from inside it.

The Competition.

“Feeling better?” Helena asked.

“If you ever have children, do yourself a favor and pay for a surrogate. It doesn’t get better the second time around” You tried to sound lighthearted but you caught that horrified expression creeping in John’s face– hey if you want somebody to shove their whole hand up your ass without warning after they slice your taint go for it.” You were too exhausted to sound genuinely angry.

“Glad you’re back mom.” She said sweetly.

You held your lower back as you straightened and Helena went to peek at the basket, her tiny hands reaching up, and Ryan was soon joining her, tall enough to catch a glimpse of the pink wrapped bundle.

“Genevieve… this is your big brother Ryan and your big sister Helena” His voice is gentle and quiet, watching their hands intensely, trying to catch the imaginary microbes in their fingertips, he caught himself thinking poorly feeling a squeeze in his chest, his mouth formed a thin line, brushing it off before entering your home– and this is home much better than that hospital.”

Ashley finally makes it down, she isn’t too excited to see him but there was the 7 month long vacation, her smile genuine as she almost jumps across those last few steps eager to welcome you both.

“The kids have been amazingly well-behaved, they missed you both a lot!” She catches her heel before crashing against Homelander’s shadow– oh my god, she’s beautiful, just look at those chubby cheeks!” 

The baby squinted with her pale blue eyes, her skin still pink and out of instinct her fingers wags to catch Genevieve’s attention, Homelander stillness catches her attention immediately.

“This is… Ashley… I guess…” His lack of sudden reprimand worries her, but his expression looks so traumatized, she’s unsure what to feel looking directly at you for clues only getting shrugged shoulders in response– Is her room ready?”

“It’s been deep cleansed, everything fluffed and stocked” She puffed her chest– the baby monitor has been set up, top of the line as you asked and I already set-up the app on your phone” She digs into her pocket to hand him his mobile– made sure to get one of our nerds to ensure there were no open back-channels so no pervy creep can access the video feed.”

“People can do that?”

“Oh yeah, you have no idea how many people go day to day not knowing their baby monitor is being seen by some weirdo in Thailand.”

Homelander stared at his phone, then looked up at the camera set up in her bedroom.

“Thank you I had no idea… thanks” He spoke so softly, Ashley stomach sank as if his words were wet cement setting in her stomach– I’m just going to take Genevieve to her room, you can go rest my love” He looked at his kids who looked so confused– you guys want to help mommy get settled in?”

They wanted to see their baby sister but upon seeing those reddened eyes about to burst into lamentations, the impulses died.

“Is he okay?” Ashley whispered into your ear as Helena took you to the couch and Ryan went to grab you some juice– what happened?”

“I have no idea… he hasn’t… he’s been really odd since he first saw her…”

“I imagine seeing his kid is an albino its doing numbers in his little prejudicial brain, dontcha think?” Helena took your bag and handed it to the maid– so in the likelihood of him committing some good ol’ fashion filicide, how do you want to operate?”

Even the maid looked horrified, Helena sight on the ceiling ears unable to pick up any sounds but as her eyes blipped she could see him standing on top of that crib as if he was cosplaying the creepy corner dude from the Blair Witch Project, in black and blurry blue 240p definition.

“What do you mean ‘albino’?” You asked nervously.

“There’s blonde and there is… we should be running up there and check up on them– white.”

Ashley, yourself and the maid gulped in unison, the maid hurried first unsure as to what to say as Ashley and yourself followed.

Homelander didn’t even notice the door opening, he just seemed so firmly planted in the metal rail of the cot, Homelander hadn’t blink or breathe much as he looked at the tiny thing, and even if she wasn’t yours to keep, you took a step forward trying to calm yourself as you poked his shoulder, he jumped on his heel violently awaken from his trance, his head shaking to see what dangers were around but it was only his picture perfect nursery and you three.

“Hey, John…babe– everything alright?” You asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you with exhaustion.

“Oh just wanted to make sure if you needed anything, sir?” The maid asked.

“Thought you might like a bath, you haven’t showered in one day… we don’t want Genevieve thinking you're stinky” You say

“I don’t smell.”

“Your suit smells like chlorine.”

It smelled like a hospital, he looked back at his baby and with a nervous disposition he headed out more obedient than he had ever been in his entire adult life not even looking back at you, nauseous at his own fictitious odor, catching Ashley by the entrance stopping to put a hand on her shoulder just to ground himself once more.

“Do you believe in God, Ashley?”

She almost shat herself.

“Not sure… I was raised a methodist… sometimes– why?” She squeals that last question.

He marchest away just as Ryan gets to the third floor with a glass of juice in his hand, Helena follows him, the brother hands you your drink and turns to his sister trying to ignore whatever had happened on his father’s face, and the smell of fear tingling his nose.

“Hope you get big soon! So we can play baseball together!”

Ashley bit her tongue as she got closer and pulled you into a corner, still shaking severely.

“You want me to get you some security?”

“I think not sleeping for 4 days has gotten to him… keep your ringtone on.”

Helena poured bathing salts and some other powders that turned the hot bath into some green shade, he half-watchest as the maid was hesitant to leave before leaving the little girl to wash her father’s hair as the man seemed more muppet than person, he was a difficult man to work for, almost one wrong word away from lashing out, difficult to please and finicky but right now this was some stranger wearing his face as his head poked out of the bathtub.

“I feel if I blink my eyelids will stay shut forever.”

“When was the last time you blinked?”

“Twenty minutes?”

She took to the medicine cabinet and with a foamy hand she took the eye drops. 

He could finally blink but he found little relief, he let his eyes close as his daughter washed his hair making a slight mess as she took the shower head and washed the apple cider conditioner off his hair.

“You should go to sleep…”

“I am sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am sorry I wasn’t there when you were born… am sorry…” His chest felt so hollow but incandescent, the water was cold compared to the ache burning his body, a pain squeezing his heart, tightening as he gasped– I…”

She poured rain into his nose, letting him choke, he got the odd coughing fit splashing and sloshing as he leaned forward, he turned barely catching himself as Helena took a jar of hair mask off the vanity.

“Good. Sucks to discover new emotions doesn’t it?” She throws the lid aside and hands him the jar– You should feel absolutely awful about being a deadbeat, and about missing out on Ryan because you decided to be a homewrecker… leave the cream on for 3 minutes.”

She hurried off the bathroom, spear heading towards you as she catches you in your bedroom closing the door to find you and Ashley discussing some escape plans.

“We need to leave. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” She shushed, pressing her dry back against the door.

“What?” You pressed.

She quickly explained and all you could do was roll your eyes and flick her forehead.

“Helena!” You turned to Ashley calmly– it’s okay I think I know what’s going on please take her and Ryan downstairs… You start writing your apology letter!”

You waited till the floor was empty, heading towards the bathroom just stopping by the sitting room before to catch a glimpse of your gargling bub who seemed to enjoy the colorful toys spinning on top of her head.

You jumped as wet hands touched your arms.

“Goddammit!” 

Homelander laid his chin on your shoulder, his wet hair dampening your ear and neck. You tried turning but he kept you still, his long eyelashes clumped together and his gaze firmly placed on her.

He wrapped you in his hot embrace, the steam frizzing your hair. 

“Sorry about Helena… you seem tired, John”

“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to miss a single second… what if something happens?”

He ignores you, holding his entire weight against you.

“Nobody, it's going to come here and steal our baby… no doctor is going to put her in a cage… we are safe John…” You whisper, leaning forward to stroke your baby’s cheek– so what’s bugging you?”

“You think I’m going to be a good father?”

You laugh a little, trying your best to turn around but he wouldn’t let you budge out of his grip, you could feel a light tremble in his hand and knees, your words frightened him– his mind back in that awful room but now it wasn’t him sitting alone in the bare room, not him sitting squeezing at his blanket but his daughter and no matter how much he bashed the metal door there was not a single dent to be seen.

“A bit late to ask three kids in… I dunno that’s not for you to decide… no matter what we do now we cannot be certain of our choices until they grow up and let us know. All we can do is try our best– just try your best, and if you need help then that’s what I'm here for.”

“What if I fuck it up?” He whimpered into your shoulder.

“What if I fuck it up, too?”

He lets go of you, letting you catch a glimpse of his wet torso and the damp stain around his toes, he moved to pick her up only stopping himself as his wet hair stained her pink onesie.

“I know you have only been a dad for like– what 3 or 4 years when you got Ryan and with Helena not even 2… but you’re doing okay. A few things here and there that are questionable but I can’t say I can judge, I am always wondering if I am treating Helena the right way, or if I am not overstepping with Ryan… but you won’t because as much as I struggle with you… you do love Ryan… You love Helena and god you truly love Genevieve… just the way you looked at her… I don’t think I could ever believe that you could make such a face.”

“She’s so beautiful” He tears up, sobbing– I don’t think I've ever seen something so pretty before… like she shouldn't be mine…”

“John... oh she's just as pretty as you... as pretty as Helena was and am sure just as pretty as Ryan was” You let him cling to you, his sight glued on her as he cried.

He smiled, as her heartbeat flooded his senses, as he caught Ryan’s steady song above and Helena’s rapid rhytimns below.

This was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed, he looked up to face you, cleaning his tears with the back of his hand, trying not to be loud as the baby cooed awake, gargling and kicking her legs.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance… I won’t fuck it up… I won’t” His voice held back from sobbing– I’ll be better.”

“You better… otherwise I’ll be taking the house” You chuckle softly kissing his cheek.

He laughed awkwardly, making your cheeks blush as he stared at you with adulation written in his eyes. You've given him everything he’d ever wanted, he made a silent oath to give you everything in return, you just didn’t know it yet.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, you thought as you stared at that loving gaze, thinking that all the pain you endure would be returned with a mountain of blessings... after all that was what you had hoped for all those years ago.

“Thank you.” He whispered into your lips.

You smiled into his kiss thinking things were finally right for you... for you both.

taglist-- @immyowndefender @demodemo909 @ghqst-fqce @fromforeigntofamiliarity thank you all for reading this hope you can enjoy my future projects and will tag y'all for the epilogue too.

as a little treat here are the 5 songs that inspired this fic:

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut - Epilogue

A/N - Hey friends, had a couple of requests on wattpad for a final chapter of this. Thought I would post it here too. Hope everyone is well.   Ch.5 here. 

Pairing - Sigefrid and Genevieve  

Warnings - Sigefrid’s sweet love making:)

A month had passed since that horrid night.

Returning to Beamfleot the following day, everything had changed; all sense of master and slave had evaporated. Gone was the unfamiliarity and formality between them, instead, there was some formless bond that kept them tied. If Sigefrid was within the city walls, they were together, often seated side by side and if not, never apart for long. All meals were shared in the dining room in front of his men; men who would no longer dare cast her a second glance. She was his lady now and Erik had made certain that every person knew the price Haesten had paid.

At the order of Sigefrid, a slave had collected Genevieve's few things and moved her over into his chamber along with her kitten, back from the woman who had been watching it. Naturally, her duties, other than the ones she insisted on keeping, had been relieved and they shared his room as well as his bed every night since that dreadful trip.

And still..... no words had been spoken about what had grown between them. Neither of them had ever mentioned Haesten or the feelings they displayed that night back in the tent, after horns and horns of ale. No physical desires had been shared or acted upon and for the second time since meeting, he knew he had drawn an invisible line that he felt he could not cross. Within him, barely under the surface, was a ferocious need to protect her. She, again, was his wounded doe and he would not push his urges upon her. The thought of her conceding simply because of her reliance and his position of power made him feel ill. Never again, would she be put in that place.

And still.... he fucking ached for her. Longed for her. Waited each day for night to come, impatient for them to retreat to his chamber. He craved those candle-lit evenings, those moments with her alone in bed, lying side by side under the covers.

Regardless of how they fell asleep, they would wake in a tangle of arms and legs wrapped around the other like it had always been and always would be. The spoiled cat, that he thought should be in the barn, was never far away.

Yet as a man, a Dane warrior, it, them, the whole thing was agonizing, continuously confronting and always a challenge of his will. His attachment to her was palatable and many mornings he woke wondering if he should allow it to continue or, instead, end the torment and set her free.

Days were spent watching her, asking himself if he had the strength or even the kindness to risk letting her go. There was no question that she had a fondness for him, but he wondered if it was enough for her to stay with her former captor in a land that had taken so much.

And still.... he loved being with her. Loved everything about her. Listening to her hum while she sewed, watching her braid her long dark hair for bed, how she would rarely fill her own plate and instead take food from his. Gods, she was lovely, pure-hearted and kind and never shaken by his gruffness.

As a man usually led by impulse, the path to clarity was heart-rending but he had made the decision to speak with her and no longer stay paralyzed.

So....there he stood, in the late day sun with no armour and no weapons, wearing just a brown tunic and pants, his arm bear with his blade left behind on the table in their room.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder, squinting from the low afternoon sun. She was beautiful standing among the apple trees, with her wavy hair hanging free except for the fine braids on either side of her face. Her eyes were lightly lined with kohl and her dress was nearly sheer, illuminated by the light showing the curve of her brilliant ass. Fuck, he felt both excited and scared.

"Can I offer you an apple?" she smiled turning to face him, holding up one of the tart green ones he preferred. The basket at her feet looked heavy, nearly full to the top and he wondered if she had been expecting him.

As he approached, she lowered to sit, patting the ground beside her.

Taking the apple from her out-stretched hand, he settled into the grass feeling like a peasant on the ground but he did not share his grumbles. Chomping an enormous bite, he shook his head with amusement as she plucked it back from his hand and bit a piece from what was left.

"Why, woman, when you have a basket full of apples, do you eat mine?"

Scrunching her nose, she shrugged. "I like to eat your food."

"I have noticed."

"It is funny," she smiled and squinted one eye, her shyness not entirely outgrown.

"What is?" he grinned, nodding for her to answer.

Looking down, she pulled a long blade of grass from the ground, rolling it back and forth between her thumb and finger, the seed pods spinning free. "It is sweet to see a big black wolf share his food." She glanced up. "I like it."

"I. Like. You." he articulated in his deep Danish accent, hucking the apple behind him and leaning forward to grab her.

Embracing her around the waist, he pulled her toward him until she sat between his legs, her giggles bolstering his confidence.

"I have never said these words so I am going to say them now," his face grew serious and he watched her, again, lower her eyes, her expression also settling. "You are a free woman, Genevieve. Not my slave."

Dropping the grass, she reached up, still avoiding his gaze, and began fiddling with the cuff of his shirt that she had re-hemmed.

Clearing her throat, she glanced at him but only for a moment. "I gathered that when you had a new slave brought in."

"I see that girl has braided your hair and lined your eyes," he smiled, his eyes flitting over her profile, his dick flexing in his pants, reminding him it was there.

"Do you like it?" she whispered, clearly trying not to smile.

"Do I like it?" his smile widened, and his dark brows shot high. "Yes," he replied and then grunted like a boar making her laugh. "Genevieve," he leaned in closer, again becoming serious, "It is your choice whether to stay. If you choose not to, I will personally take you back to Frankia. But....the decision is yours."

Saying nothing, she looked at him, her thoughts crinkling the skin of her forehead.

"What?" he nudged her, squeezing her in his arms. "Say something."

"I would like to see Frankia again in my life but there is nothing there for me."

"Will you stay with me then?" The second he asked the question, he wondered why he had risked it.

Shifting, she pulled out of his arms and his heart sank but she quickly turned toward him, settling back on her knees to look at him. There was no smile on her face, but her eyes were warm and bright giving him hope that she was not thinking up the words to reject him. Shifting closer, she placed her hands over his face and he instinctively jerked his head back.

"What are you doing?"

"Hush," she quieted him, "Shut your eyes."

"No," he pulled back again, chuckling.

"Sigefrid," she pleaded gently and his name in her sweet accent nearly made his chest break wide. "Shut your eyes," she whispered, placing her hands back onto his face.

"This is stupid," he grumbled unable to stop the return of his shit-eating grin.

As foolish as it was, he closed his eyes, nearly flinching when he felt the softest graze of her lips against his skin, her hair tickling his face, as her mouth pressed to his ear.

"Sigefrid," she whispered again, "I want to stay with you."

"I want to fucking marry you," he rushed out making her laugh again.

"Let us start with a kiss then," she said in her melodic voice as she lowered her hands.

Waiting with his eyes still closed, he was grateful the next sensation was her beautiful lips pressing against his. The kiss was like her, gentle and sweet, and everything she had made him realize he wanted for himself.

"I need you," he said, opening his eyes, his heart and head drinking in her closeness.

"I know," she replied resting her hands onto his shoulder and inching closer toward him. Bringing her lips back to his face, she kissed his cheek, leaning again toward his ear. "I can see it when you look at me."

Pulling back, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could, she kissed him again and then again, her beautiful mouth inviting him deeper. Wrapping his arms around her, he groaned, pulling her closer until she was seated in his lap. The more he tasted, the more he knew he could never be without her.

Breaking the kiss, she looked at him, "Should we return to the room?"

"No. Let us stay here, under the sun, where the Gods can see us."

Squeezing her to him, he leaned them back until they lay flat on the warm ground. Adjusting, she turned so she was looking into his eyes and he reached over and smoothed the hair away from the edge of her face. Wrapping his fingers behind the nape of her neck, he kissed her again, her mouth so soothing and welcoming with the rolling of their tongues, it made it hard for him to keep a slow pace. Seeing her chest begin to rise and fall, he reached down and began to unlace the ties at her bust, her heavy bosoms straining against the fabric, begging to be freed.

Distracting him from the work of her laces, she sighed against his lips and it felt like a strike of heat shooting to his groin. Quickly he lifted her leg over his hip, pulling their cores closer, and dipped his palm under the fabric of her dress, skimming up the backs of her gorgeous, thick thighs.

He had thought of what this moment might be like a thousand times and yet he was still unprepared for how it pulled the air from his lungs; for how being with her made him feel like a man.

Continuing to run his hand higher, he made contact with her bare bottom, at last, touching the part of her he had never been able to drag his eyes away from. It was smooth and round and squeezing it created the most desirable result, her whimpering and rocking her hips against him. Fuck he thought, as his dick bagged to be unleashed but he could not rush; this was the start of the rest of his life. Valhalla would have to wait.

It was impossible to stop his hands from roaming, they tingled with the need to touch her, to explore every crease and part. Slipping down between her thighs, he felt her sex, his fingers brushing the hair of her mound, so soft it felt like the down of a thistle.

Enough was enough, he had to see her. All of her. Abruptly, he pulled away and pushed himself up to sit, the loss of contact, making her eyes shoot open.

Chuckling, he reached behind his head and pulled the tunic off his shoulders before undoing the top of his pants. Springing forward, his cock was standing alert, ready for her warmth.

Lowering her eyes to his open pants, she pressed her lips together stifling a smile, her dark eyes sparkled and the natural pink of her cheeks deepened to the colour of a rose. By the Gods, he was going to cherish her.

Sitting up, she shuffled her dress out from under her, pulling it up over her head and throwing it onto the ground. Smoothing down her mussed hair, she glanced away as her shyness crept back in. Her voluptuous form was now bare and breathtaking and in every way felt like a gift.

"Lie down woman. I want to look at you."

Lowering herself back to the ground, she moved awkwardly, lifting her arms over her head and using one to cover her eyes.

"Stop that. Look at me," he insisted and she lowered her hands to the grass.

Kicking off his boots, he ripped the front of his breeches down, quickly undressing completely. Crouching over her, he opened her legs and knelt between, noticing how she fought the need to glance away.

"You never need to hide from me. Never me, Genevieve. Never."

Biting her bottom lip, she said nothing but nodded. The small gesture and slight simper, prodding on his arousal.

Raking his eyes down her body, he stared at her large pillowy breasts, so full, they fell apart resting to either side. The plushness of her skin, her round hips, the rolls of her tummy that moved each time he shifted her made him feel, again, like that hungry black wolf and at that angle, he could see the underside of her beautifully round cheeks.

The Gods were smiling down at him, they must be, he thought and he would repay them by worshiping every part of her. Exhaling, his cock twitched as he replayed her whispered words in her songful voice telling him that she wanted to stay. And looking at her perfectly plump body then only made his erection strain and his balls feel tight, knowing with complete certainty, that she was designed by the Gods to produce life; life they would create together. Exhaling again, he nearly grunted thinking how badly he wanted to fill her with his seed.

Crawling forward, he hovered above and pressed his lips to hers again, pouring his thoughts into her mouth.

Straightening back onto his knees, he shifted her legs further apart, resting her spread thighs over his. Stroking his hardness with one hand, he reached down with the other, the glistening of her wetness teasing his eye and making the flames in his chest burn.

Spreading her folds with his fingers, he groaned as he looked down at her light pink insides, her body's honey allowing his thumb to slip back and forth over her clit making her gasp and arch her back. What a sound, he thought, mesmerized. She was all of life and with her, he knew he would share everything.

"Sigefrid," her quiet voice called to him and his eyes looked up to her. "Make love to me, Sigefrid."

As if the war horn had blown, he responded, guiding his swollen tip to her opening. Looking up, his dark eyes locked with hers and all at once he pushed inside.

"By the Gods!" he rushed out as she raised her hands to his shoulders, beckoning him down to rest on her. It felt so right and he knew this was the feeling he would survive any battle for. She was his path to glory.

Withdrawing partially, he pushed back in, his yearning for her unlike anything he had ever felt, an arousal so ripe it smoothed his chaos and steadied his mind. She was the dawn to his dusk, his woman and soon he would make her his wife.

Heat coursed through him, from his hard cock deep in her narrow womb, across his skin, spreading up his back and neck. A low groan rumbled out and he looked up to the trees, fighting the urge to rut hard and fast and immediately spill.

Gods, she looked perfect lying beneath him, he thought as he looked back down, watching pleasure sweep across her beautiful face. The waive of affection he felt was overwhelming and he closed his eyes savouring the feel of being inside her as he rhythmically rocked his hips, each stroke pushing deeper. His skin was moving and pressing against hers bringing forth her scent and the smell of her glossy dark hair, his tongue was tracking up her warm throat as he thrust into her again.

Their movements did not stop until her legs were squeezing his sides, her arms around his neck, his cock sliding out only to pump back in. Every movement was controlled and powerful, and his steady breathing was morphing into low grunts and indiscernible words.

"Sigefrid," she uttered, and his eyes snapped open, seeing her parted lips and hooded eyes, her breath in a light pant.

"Tell me," she whispered with a smile and he had to think about what he had been mumbling. "Say what you are thinking. Please. I can see it in your eyes." Tilting up, she kissed him, her rich brown eyes sparkling, reflecting the sun above.

Staring at her, he felt his chest swell as he languidly withdrew and eased back in and then for the first time in his thirty-one years, he opened his warrior heart.

"Genevieve, I love you."

@naaladareia​​​​​​​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​​​​​​​​​  @hecohansen31​​​​​​​​​​  @mdredwine​​​​​​​​​​ @ceridwenofwales​​​​​​​​​ @whenimaunicorn​​​​​​​​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​​​​​​​​ @edythofhastings​​ @clevercass​

[uglyshirtsinc]

Things my d&d party has done that I, the DM, still cannot get over;

Bard and rogue a screaming contest in a tavern because the rogue wouldn't move her long legs to let the cute elf npcs sit

The rogue bought the female elf npc a glass of pineapple juice, the bards player informed me the reason she bought it was because it makes you taste better. I was horrified.

"I pull out a small round container of Vaseline and stare into Genevieve's (elf npc) eyes as I generously spread it on my lips." "Do they even have vaseline in medieval times?" "I have no fucking clue, medieval vaseline then."

When the elves ended up murdering hundreds the mother fucking rogue was still lile "GENEVIEVE DO YOUR SHOES NEED SHINING??? GENEVIEVE PLEASE, PLEASE MY LOVE-"

.... Rogue played cat and mouse with a metallic dragon.

Rogue had private time in a not so private place. Fuck stealth rolls.

Wizard fell out of the wagon and smashes his face onto the floor.

They murdered an npc on the side of the road and flex taped her to the bottom of their wagon. They plan on using her body for a demon later on.

Our stupid as fuck bard rolled a nat 20 to figure out where they were, rogue rolled a nat 1. The rogue just spat a tooth at an npc while the dumb bard gave their exact coords and then passed out face first into the floor. Hardest I've laughed during a game.

Rogue tried to get down and dirty with a cowboy named Jesse, learned Jesse was ase and nearly fell out of her chair.

Honestly I have no clue how to explain this other than a much smaller and hornier version of Merlin from Disney Sword in the Stone climbed ontop of a counter in an inn in his night clothes, ripped them off to reveal heart print undies, and then our bard tried to jump up to impress the inn keeper boy he liked and rolled a 3 on dexterity while a fucking nat 20 on charisma. He ate shit falling off the counter but the dude he liked found it adorably endearing.

Our wizard grabbed the old man by the ankles and yeeted him out of the inn for watching our bard as she slept. He's a good boyo.

They had a custody war over a butterfly dragon polymorphed into a cat, his name is George.

Bard got shitfaced and tried to cozy up to a dragonborn dude, I'm paraphrasing but I distinctly remember her saying "I change into my night clothes, its a thin white t-shirt. I have no bra."

"Where's her armor?! She's nearly nude!" "LEATHER ARMOR NIPPLE PASTIES?"

BARD WALKED OUT OF THE NPC THEY HAD THE HOTS FORS ROOM IN NOTHING BUT HIS BOXERS WITH MESSY HAIR AND HICKIES, I WAS JUST AS STUNNED AS OUR OTHER PARTY MEMBERS. TRUST ME.

Butterfly dragon coughing up a hairball on rogues lap, lots of screaming.

Sydney: did sammi (bard) actually sleep tho 👀

Me, knowing exactly what she means: you are in public

"Ain't my fault he fucked the inn boy!" -me

"Oh my god are you Irish" -rogue

"DAMMIT YOU'RE CAUSING A SCENE" -bard

"Falor has permission to look at my ass" -rogue

"She cray cray" -rogue about drunk bard

Inn boy npc having to chase shitfaced bard and dragging her while shes half naked

"Can we lock her in there?" "*re-enters room*" "dammit."

"I pull out multiple dead rats from my bag-" "you WHAT"

The time the butterfly dragon asked the bard why he smelled like the inn boy and everyone lost their shit

Rogue as she strips: I'm gonna changeeeeeee clothes

Bard realizing he's in just boxers: oh, clothes

THE FUCKING PET CUSTODY BATTLE

"MY CAT!! I ADOPTED HIM AND NAMED HIM!" "WE ADOPTED HIM AND WE NAMED HIM!" "guys just fuckin roll perception I'm gonna loose my mind-"

I still cant fucking get over the party cheering at sammi getting some holy fucking shit

Me and the rogue player ship the bards old crush with his boyfriend and she hates it

@oh-its-syb @jaidenstation id tag Sam but shes lame and wont gimme her tumblr but thank u whores for playing dnd with me and making me laugh my ass off, even if you gave me horrid migraines our first 3 games

[holylulusworld]

You know me well – Part 4

Summary: Winning a contest to earn a small role in the next Supernatural Episode is a dream coming true. The only problem is the man you admire for his talent thinks you are not good enough. When he finally admits something he turns your world upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared Padalecki x Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins

Warnings: angst, sad reader, Jensen being a douche, unrequited love (kinda), comforting (Genevieve), heartbreak

You know me well Masterlist

Only a few more weeks and you can go public. Only a few more days to keep on going and pretend you are not in love with Jensen.

Since Jared caught both of you Jensen is more subtle on set, always aware someone else than Misha or Jared could see him touching you.

“The party is this weekend. Are you excited?” Jared asks as you play with your barely touched food.

“I don’t know, Jared. I’m not used to this kind of stuff and attending it alone doesn’t make things easier.” Giving your friend a cracked smile, you keep on pretending it doesn’t hurt Jensen suggested you shall go alone to the party.

“Jensen will not go with you?” Misha is taking aback. He had hoped Jensen would reveal you are a pair during the party. The season is wrapped, hiatus is close, only re-shooting needs to be done but that’s it. “I mean the season is over, we could just announce it at the party.”

“Misha, don’t.” Jared is patting your back, seeing the hurting on your face. “I guess Jensen wants to wait for the first Con as we agreed to. You can come with me and Gen if you want to. This way you don’t have to go alone and keep your word.”

“Thank you, Jared. I’d like that even if I would prefer going with Jensen.” Grumbling you watch Jensen talk to a foreign woman. He’s joking, placing his hand onto her back and your heart drops.

You have seen him with that woman before, in a magazine. He was dating her before you and broke up with her not long after they announce their relationship.

“Why is Michelle here?” Misha cocks a brow, glancing at Jensen talking to his ex-girlfriend in front of you, in front of his friends.

“I’ve got no fucking clue.” Jared exhales as he gets up to talk to Jensen. The moment Jensen sees his friend he removes his hand from Michelle’s back, greeting Jared as if nothing happened.

“A word, Jay?”

“Sure. Later, Michelle.” Jensen smirks following his friend toward his trailer. “What’s wrong, Jared?”

“What’s wrong?” Pointing at you sitting next to Misha Jared shakes his head. “Your secret girlfriend sits right there, telling me you refused to go to the party with her and then we have to watch you getting all cozy with your ex!”

“Dude, relax. Michelle is doing me a favor, okay. The rumors got worse and I thought if I walk around with her a bit everyone believes we are back together, and Y/N and I can take a deep breath. Soon I can announce my relationship with Y/N.” Jensen doesn’t see your hurting or the way you play with the seam of your shirt. He doesn’t see the doubts all over your face.

“You better stop this shit, okay. Be a man and call things off with Michelle, tell her thank you and we can survive these few weeks till you and Y/N reveal your relationship.” Jared storms off to bring you away as Jensen walks back toward Michelle.

----

The night of the party started surprisingly funny. Sitting in the hotel room with Genevieve you watch Jared bickering with Misha about the right way to wield an angel blade.

“Boys, we have to go. Where is Jensen?” Genevieve watches your face fall as you shake your head.

“I don’t know, Gen. Last night he said he’d be here at eight or so but it’s already nine and he doesn’t answer my calls.” Sniffling you try not to ruin your make-up.

“What the heck! We agreed to go together so if’s not obvious you and Jensen are a pair. As Misha is without Vickie tonight he’s with us too. Where is Jay?” Jared paces around the room, trying to reach his friend. “Doesn’t answer my call either.”

“We have to get going, Babe. Maybe he’s late or something.” Squeezing her husband's hand Genevieve tries to calm Jared. “He can meet up with us before we go in. Let’s roll and wait for him outside.”

“Still don’t know why he doesn’t answer our calls. Is this about the fan post last week?” Looking up at Jared you can see the tall man’s face fall. Remembering a fan wrote she assumes you and Jensen are a pair he rubs your back, shaking his head.

“No, Y/N. Listen, Jensen loves you and we are for sure meeting up with him before we have to walk over the red carpet, okay. Stay with us and everything will be fine.” Not believing his own words Jared nods as his wife.

“Don’t worry.” Slinging her arm around your shoulders Gen tries to calm your nerves. “Jay will be there, and you can dance all night. No one will disturb your fun at our party.”

----

In the limousine, you tried to call Jensen again, but he refused to answer. Jared is getting antsier per minute. The pit in his stomach grows and he looks at Misha for help.

“How about I lead Y/N to the carpet until Jensen arrives. We can take a few pictures and wait for the rest of the cast.” Misha tries to break the awkward silence, patting your thigh. “We are going to rock the red carpet, Y/N.”

A fake smile on your lips you nod at Misha, knowing he means well, but the look on Jared’s face tells you he believes something is wrong with Jensen and your heart beats faster than it should.

“We are here, ladies and gentlemen,” Clif exclaims as Jared almost jumps out of the limousine to hold out his hand for Genevieve. Misha is close behind, helping you get out and that’s the moment you hear someone yelling Jensen’s name.

Your eyes search the photographer and then your eyes land on the red carpet and your heart shatters into pieces.

Instead of attending the red carpet with you and his friends Jensen poses on the carpet with his ex-girlfriend. Smiling he holds her hand as he nods at the reporter who asked if he’s with Michelle again.

Pale, panting heavily you feel Misha moving his arm around your waist. “We are going to rock this carpet and later Jared and I will kill Jensen,” Misha whispers leading you toward the carpet as you feel like your legs are jelly.

“How can he do this, Jared? I don’t get what he wants to achieve with it. We agreed to attend the party together and now Jensen messes with our plans and poses with that bitch.” Genevieve is balling her hands into fists as you shake your head, giving her a cracked smile.

“Gen just drop it. I guess that’s Jensen’s way to call things off with me. Maybe she’s the better choice. Look at me and then look at her, Genevieve.” Glancing down your simple robe you hold back a sob. “Jensen is way out of my league. I should be relieved, this way the lies finally end.”

Misha leads you toward the red carpet, angrily clenching his jaw while Jared glares at Jensen who dares to glance at you in Misha’s arm.

“I swear at the end of the party I’ll kick his ass. I can’t believe he pulls a stunt like that. I warned him, Gen. Told him to not hurt the kid. Look at her.” Pointing at you trying to fake a smile as Misha attends the red carpet with you Jared silently curses.

----

“Y/N, you came here with Misha tonight, not with a boyfriend. Why?” The reporter asks and you clear your throat.

“Misha was alone, just like me. Vickie couldn’t make it and he was kind enough to offer his free arm to me as an old spinster as I didn’t find someone to attend the party with me.” It’s not a complete lie so you smile politely and answer more questions.

“We all cheered for you and Jensen. All of us bet you would make a cute couple. The chemistry on screen is so strong between the two of you.” Another reporter tries and you laugh, giving him a wink.

“It’s called acting, Sir. Mr. Ackles is obviously in a relationship with the lovely woman he brought to this party. I don’t think he could ever think about me as a love interest. I’m only a colleague.” Misha is keeping you upright, smiling into the cameras as Jared and Gen join you.

“Jared, Jared! Don’t you think Y/N and Jensen are a cute couple too?” The same reporter asks.

“Well, Y/N is a wonderful actress and a good friend, on top of all a great person. I think she deserves someone showing his love for her and making her feel special. I bet she will find someone giving her all of this in no time.” Jared smirks as he can see Jensen turned pale at his best friends’ words.

“One last question to Y/N. Please.”

“Go ahead.”

“What does your ideal man look alike.” The reporter asks and you smile, taking your time to answer.

“It’s not always about the looks. I prefer a man showing me his affection, holding my hand and making sure I’m alright. So far I didn’t find a man doing so…” Clearing your throat you point at Jared and Genevieve.

“I want what Gen and Jared already have. A loving relationship, someone who cares about you and is not afraid to show it even if it means getting a shitstorm.” Now you smile sweetly, let the photographers take some more pictures before you let Misha lead you inside.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thank you, Misha. Without you, I wouldn’t make it tonight. I needed all my strength not to cry. When this is over I’ll pack my things and leave his house…”

----

Jensen is keeping his distance, always aware people are watching him so he dances with Michelle, ignoring you the whole evening.

“He could at least have asked you to dance with him. What the fuck is he thinking?” Jared curses, watching Jensen glance at you once again.

“You know he wants someone he can present. That woman is perfect. I’m only his dirty secret or she’s better in bed as he didn’t get any so far. I’ll call a cab and leave the party. I spend enough time waiting for him to explain his behavior.”

Walking away you want to use the restrooms but Jensen follows you to take the chance and kiss you, but you push him away.

“Get off me, Ackles. Go back to the woman you brought here, I’m no longer your latest fling.” Jensen is gasping at your words while you turn to walk away.

“Wait, I did it for us!”

“For us?” Furious you slap his cheek, not caring if anyone sees you.

“There is no us, Jensen. There are you and that perfect arm candy and then there’s me walking over the carpet with Misha as he had to keep me upright. I don’t know what sick game you tried to play with me but it’s over…” Turning on your heels you storm toward the restrooms as Jensen runs after you dragging you into the room.

“I tried to kill the rumors, Baby. I did it for you.” Trying to touch your cheek Jensen has to watch you flinch away.

“Rumors? Seriously. All the reporters were rooting for us. No one would’ve cared if you had kept your word and attend the party with Jared, Gen and me. Misha was there too. No one would’ve known we are a thing, but you came here with that woman. A woman you had sex with, Jensen and I shall believe you did this for us! I might be younger than you but I’m not dumb, go fuck yourself…or rather fuck her cause for sure you will never touch me.” Panting you slap Jensen’s hand away as he tries to reach out for you.

“Please, Baby Girl…”

“Stop calling me like that…we are done…”

The realization hits Jensen like a freight train as you leave the restrooms, not looking back.

Instead of making things easier for you, he lost you only as he was too afraid to go public yet…

You know me well Tags

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[slashhinginghasher]

Social Engagement for Misanthropes: Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Jesse Cromeans cleaned up nice, and he damn well knew it. It was one of the first skills he’d cultivated after leaving his shithole hometown. One of the best ways to get money, he’d found, was to look like you already had it. The looks he got from women (and some men) were a welcome (some would say unnecessary) boost to his ego, and a sharp suit could always be counted on to draw the piggies out of their pens. The first few times he’d worn designer had felt strange, like a kid playing make-believe, though after a while it became as natural as breathing.

Now, as he stood in front of the mirror in his walk-in closet and fiddled with a tie he hadn’t touched in over three years, he felt a bit like that broke, backwater kid again.

He didn’t particularly want to attend this event, but it was, unfortunately, somewhat necessary. Spann had called it “proof of life” when she handed him the invitation, an actual, physical piece of paper that had been calligraphed and embossed within an inch of its life. It contained phrases like “humble gathering” and “the pleasure of your company” and had, apparently, been mailed with an honest-to-god wax seal.

Pretentious prick.

Jesse had been to his fair share of “humble gatherings”; you couldn’t conduct real business without them. They were mind-crushingly boring affairs, a slow-moving social dance of caviar, expensive booze, and pathetic attempts at wit. If nothing else, the people-watching was usually interesting. For all their “good breeding”, wealthy families could be far more dysfunctional than the most slovenly of small town homes. Upper class socialites didn’t blink at multi-million dollar checks, but flash a bit of ink and they’d fall over themselves to choke on his cock while their husbands talked golf in the next room. He’d even picked up a piggy or two at a few events, though you had to be extra careful with that (chain of association and all).

But he hadn’t shown his face in public since it had been ripped off and reattached, and some of his business contacts were getting suspicious. Spann’s iron-clad assurances were no longer enough to quell the rumors that Jesse Cromeans had died, or been deposed, and that someone else was running the company under his name. And that just would not do. He’d RSVP’d immediately, memories of Preston’s failed takeover flushing his system with old rage.

At least he’d be guaranteed some interesting company tonight, he thought, smirking at the garment bag draped over the stool next to him as he tapped out a quick text.

💀🖕: COME UPSTAIRS, I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU

Macarena: IF IT’S YOUR DICK I DON’T WANT IT

Jesse chuckled and went back to his tie, certain that either Marena’s curiosity or the urge to insult him to his face would bring her up shortly. He knew bow ties were traditional for black tie events, but wearing a fucking bow around his neck was a concession he’d never been able to force himself to make. Besides, he had a reputation for being… unconventional, and reputation was everything. Satisfied with the crisp Windsor knot, he shrugged on his black waistcoat, secretly pleased with the way it showed off the breadth of his chest.

“You look like a goth pirate,” came Marena’s voice from the doorway. “What the fuck.” As usual, he hadn’t heard her approach. She was the only person he knew who could sneak up on him, which was fun. Made things exciting.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘black tie’ before?” Jesse signed with a grin.

“Call me surprised then. Are we done?” In lieu of a verbal response, Jesse tossed the garment bag at her. Marena unzipped it enough to peek inside, then immediately re-zipped it.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nyet.”

“Can’t go to a gala wearing that,” Jesse replied, looking pointedly at her worn t-shirt and jeans. Marena threw the garment bag back and crossed her arms.

“How sad. Guess I won’t go.”

“Sure you will. I can think of a few things to make it fun.”

“So can I. Like not going.”

“Not an option.” Jesse was struggling to smother his laughter. The stubborn furrow of Marena’s brow was too cute to keep a straight face around.

“Why are you going?”

“Business.”

“And that has what to do with me?”

“You’re my plus one, little wench.” Marena visibly cringed.

“If we’re being pirates, I want a fucking sword. And I don’t mean your dick,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could sign a single word. Jesse’s shoulders shook with a full-body laugh, composure completely shot. He cupped Marena’s face in both hands and kissed her forehead, which he knew she hated, before pressing the garment bag into her hands once more.

“Try to look a little less like a corpse,” he advised, stepping around her to grab his dinner jacket. A litany of Russian curses followed him.

***

Marena’s concession to not resembling a corpse was a violently red lipstick that made it look like she’d been eating human hearts for every meal, which Jesse immediately wanted to smear across her face. The dress was black, of course, with a high collar and long sleeves. It would have covered her neck to toe had she not hiked one side of the skirt nearly up to her hip while she slipped a set of throwing knives into the holster around her slender thigh.

She made a compelling argument for ditching, Jesse thought, feeling a familiar tightening in his slacks. He couldn’t resist smoothing a hand along her exposed leg, fingers coming to rest just shy of her underwear.

“Once this dress comes off, it’s not going back on,” she warned.

“Noted and appreciated. You still have to come to this party.”

“Fuck.”

“Later.” 

Marena said nothing, just glared at him through her curtain of hair - which she had brushed just enough that the messiness looked intentional - and let her skirts fall back down to her ankles. Jesse quickly ushered her out of the room before he could do something ingenious like cancelling all of his commitments for the next month and spending the entire time in bed.

The ride in the Bentley was tense and silent. A sick pit of nerves was brewing in Jesse’s stomach, all too similar to the way his boyhood self felt on the way to school, and that was ten kinds of bullshit. He was a grown man. He was motherfucking Chromeskull. He should not be feeling like a little kid about to face a playground bully. But he was finding it very difficult to push the feeling away. His face looked a damn sight better than it did several years ago, but it would never go back to the way it was before, and he was about to walk into a room full of people who treated a minute blemish like a national scandal. He wanted his mask. He wanted to say fuck it and just keep driving until he hit someplace tropical. He wanted to kill something, to drown his insecurities in blood and adrenaline.

He half-wished he’d flown Asa out to rig the whole venue beforehand in case things went south.

Beside him, Marena was deathly still, one white-knuckled fist gripping the fabric of her skirt. She looked a million miles away, lost in whatever personal hell her own brain was conjuring for her. Jesse reached over and squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. It was his version of a concession; a silent expression of gratitude. The fact that Marena didn’t push his hand away was a testament to how anxious she was.

“I still want a sword,” she grumbled. Jesse smiled and chucked her under the chin, which she also hated, and felt the knot in his chest loosen a bit.

***

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. People stared, of course, but they were too “polite” (which was money-speak for “two-faced”) to say anything to his face. There were far more eyes on Marena, which Jesse both loved and loathed. The women’s jealous eyes tracked her every move like sharks scenting new prey, which was admittedly hilarious to watch; but the barely-concealed desire on the men’s faces sent prickles of possessiveness down Jesse’s spine. He kept his hand glued to Marena’s lower back, low enough to skirt the line of what their current company would consider decent.

If there was one thing the rich understood, it was possession.

“Cromeans!” the host bellowed, arms spread like they were old friends. “Still alive and in the flesh, I see! Some of the lads were getting worried!” A few of the “lads” murmured noises of agreement while the host gave Jesse an overly enthusiastic handshake. Jesse could feel their gazes catching on the eyepatch and the new curl of his lip, and he almost wished one of them would say something, just to give him an excuse to lash out. But the host’s attention wandered over to Marena, whom he foolishly deemed to be a safer topic of discussion.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” he asked, ignoring the sinful glances his wife was casting Jesse’s way.

“No one of consequence,” Marena replied sweetly with a tight, close-lipped smile. The man tipped his head back and guffawed, trying not to wither under the combined weight of Jesse and Marena’s unimpressed stares. He forged ahead anyway.

“You always did have a penchant for… unusual company, Cromeans, I’ll give you that. Tell you what,” he rubbed his hands together eagerly, “I’ve got a bottle of Lagavulin with your name on it in the gentlemen’s lounge. I’m sure Genevieve here can handle your lovely companion for a bit while we talk business.” He beamed benevolently at his wife, who looked as though she’d rather eat glass.

“Of course, dear,” she said, pasting a megawatt smile on her botoxed face. “It’s such a treat to see a new face around here. I’m sure the other girls would love to meet you.” She swept away towards a group of tittering young women draped in diamonds and pearls, Marena following with the stiff spine of a person walking to their execution. Jesse felt much the same way as “the lads” filed into the oak-paneled gentlemen’s lounge.

“Business” was code for the same inane bullshit being discussed in the ballroom, with the addition of whiskey, cigars, and complaints about wives and mistresses. These conversations were usually a goldmine for Jesse. As a mute, he was rarely expected to be an active participant, and the number of weaknesses people revealed when they assumed they were surrounded by allies was astounding. Tonight, though, he was twitchy and bored, distracted by thoughts of Marena stabbing one of those debutante brats through the eye with the stem of a champagne glass. As if on cue, his phone vibrated.

Macarena: I’M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING

💀🖕: DON’T START WITHOUT ME

Macarena: IT’S CUTE THAT YOU THINK I WON’T TAKE YOU OUT FIRST

💀🖕: AWW YOU THINK I’M CUTE?

Macarena: I WILL RIP YOUR SPINE OUT AND BEAT YOU WITH IT

💀🖕: DON’T TEMPT ME WITH A GOOD TIME BABY ;)

Macarena: THIS FUCKER KEEPS TRYING TO GET ME TO DANCE

Macarena: CAN I KNEECAP HIM

Macarena: I’M GONNA KNEECAP HIM

The little bastard’s kneecaps were spared when a staff member scuttled into the lounge to inform the host of some dire emergency, effectively breaking up the little gathering. Jesse strolled back into the ballroom and spotted Marena at a table near the exit, cornered by a little bitch with slicked-back hair and a greasy smile. The waves of irritation coming off of the girl were palpable and her smile obviously fake, and Jesse couldn’t decide if the guy was too stupid to notice, or was ignoring it because he had that effect on every woman he spoke to.

“Come on, baby,” he goaded, and Jesse could have broken his neck just for that, “it’s just one dance. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Marena’s smile froze on her face, and Jesse could practically hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in her head. The barb would’ve worked on any other woman in the room - horror of high society horrors, to be considered ill-mannered! - but for people of Marena and Jesse’s backgrounds, it hit much harder and much deeper.

“No,” she said, rising slowly and deliberately from her seat. “She didn’t.” She turned on her heel, leaving the idiot to gape at the failure of his clumsy manipulation tactics. Jesse grabbed her elbow and she passed and made a beeline for the exit. Not that he didn’t relish the prospect of a bloodbath, but initiating one right now would make future business dealings… complicated.

He memorized the fucker’s face on their way out, though.

***

Marena spent the next few days in a well-deserved sulk, resulting in the destruction of two punching bags and a serious case of blue balls for Jesse. He’d really been looking forward to ripping that dress off of her, damn it. He distracted himself with work and few more personal arrangements. At the end of the week, he tracked her down on the rooftop deck.

“Say your piece and fuck off,” she growled as he stood silently next to her chaise lounge, hands behind his back. She sounded exhausted and looked as though she hadn’t slept in at least two days. Affecting an air of mock seriousness, Jesse moved in front of her and bowed, offering her conciliatory gift on open palms.

“You did not.”

The shashka’s scabbard was a deep midnight blue, with subtle patterns of tree branches embossed in the fine leather. The hilt was smooth, black horn. The blade gleamed in the afternoon light as Marena unsheathed it with a fluid schnick.

“You are the absolute worst fucking person in the world,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching dangerously close to a smile. A glint of wicked delight sparkled in her eyes as she gave the sabre a few experimental twirls and slashes.

“Only for you, baby,” Jesse replied with a cheeky grin. “Want to test it out?”

***

All it took was a pair of handcuffs and a dark warehouse to really bring out the bitch in some people. The asshole from the party (Jesse really needed to come up with a term for male piggies if this was going to be a recurring thing) had been tied up for barely a day and he was already a sniveling mess. Jesse, on the other hand, was in a great mood. He had his mask, his camcorder, and his favorite knife, and judging by the way Marena was practically purring as she traced her fingers around the shashka’s hilt, he was for sure getting laid tonight. 

The rich bitch didn’t recognize Jesse with his face covered, but his eyes went wide and he started screaming obscenities into his gag when Marena stepped under the light. She yanked the fabric out of his mouth.

“You fucking cunt! You’ll fucking regret this! Do you know who I am? Do you-” All the blood drained from his face when Marena drew the sword and held it to his throat in a lightning-fast move. He swallowed hard, the tip digging in just below his Adam’s apple and drawing a bead of blood. She really was a natural with that thing, Jesse thought as he circled the tableau with his camera. It was hot as fuck.

“Hi,” Marena said.

The man sweated in silence.

“I wanted to go back to our conversation a few nights ago,” she continued. “About my mother.” She let the sword drop to her side and the man relaxed fractionally.

“See, she did not teach me manners, but she did teach me a lot of other things.” She pushed the gag back into place and patted him a couple times on his quivering, tear-soaked cheek. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a black butterfly knife.

“Lesson one: bleeding.”

[marvelslut16]

Like a virgin

Synopsis: (Y/N) is an old college buddy of Sam’s, and after they meet up for the first time in a few years she joins him and Dean on their hunts. Your old feelings for Sam fade and stronger new feelings surface for the older Winchester.

Word count: 2271

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, alcohol(?), brief unwanted advances, slight nsfw moments. I think that’s it. Oh, and talks of virginity and the hymen. 

Authors note: I just finished writing this and it’s like 4 in the morning so I’m sorry if it sucks. Also, this takes place in season 4 right after Dean comes back from Hell. I took a brief conversation between Sam and Dean from the episode monster movie where Dean claims to be a virgin, hence the title. Absolutely no hate to Genevieve Cortese (Padalecki) for the one offensive comment I make about Ruby’s appearance. 

You had bumped into the Winchester’s when they came to your house to ask about the mysterious deaths that were happening in your neighborhood. Dean came to your door first claiming to be from the FBI, but his partner soon followed. Your face went from a courtesy smile to straight anger, which was rolling off of you in waves.

“Shit,” Sam muttered as he stepped up onto your porch. 

“Do you get kicks from impersonating federal agents?” you glared at him. “Last time I checked that’s illegal Samuel. You would think you’d know that though, considering you were pre law.” 

Sam Winchester, your Chemistry partner for a semester, and eventual best friend. He was your first real friend at college and made sure to include you when he went out with his friends. He started dating Jessica and that's when you realized that you had feelings for him, always too late. The longer he was with Jessica you realized that she was a good and genuine person, that they were destined for each other. Sam asked you for advice on how to propose to her, because ‘you’re a girl right?’ Let's just say you were not amused by his phrasing. But then Jessica died and Sam left without a word. 

“(Y/N/N), I can explain,” he promised. 

“Two and a half years of radio silence warrants more than just some empty promise that’s supposed to make me feel better,” you crossed your arms and let out a huff. He may have been taller than you, but in that moment he had never felt so small before. Not even with his father. 

You begrudgingly let the two into your house, well your parents house, to explain. They swore up and down that they were supernatural hunters and they were going from state to state killing monsters. They said that there was some vengeful spirit in your town going after atheists, some dead priest or something. You did the only logical thing and laughed in their faces, because that was beyond ridiculous. Sure you believe in spirits and such, but they said that witches and vampires were real too. 

“You don’t want to tell me the truth?” you were fuming. “Fine, but don’t insult my intelligence by lying to my face.” 

“It’s the truth,” Dean said gruffly. 

“God, you’re both delusional,” you throw your hands up in the air and let out a humorless chuckle. 

“I told you back in college what my family did,” Sam desperately tried to get you to believe.

“We were wasted when you told me that story Sam!” you practically yell, good thing your parents weren’t home.

“We’ll take you with,” Sam jumped up from the couch and walked over to you, grabbing your wrists. 

“Sammy,” Dean warns from his seat. 

“Please (Y/N), you’ve gotta believe me,” he gave you his perfected puppy dog gaze. 

“Fine, but you better not be lying to me Sam,” you sigh and lean into his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too beaker,” he teases you.

“I broke one beaker!” you defend.

“Yeah, right after Dr. Keck had just told the class to be careful while carrying them,” he laughed at the memory and you couldn’t help laughing with him. Something felt different this time around, like everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

But that was just under two years ago, and nothing has changed between you and Sam since. He even said you were like his sister to some demon named Ruby. And if that weren't insulting enough, he left you with Bobby after Dean died before running off again. Dean, poor sweet Dean, you missed him more with every day that passed. The two of you had gotten close over beers after hunts, he was different from Sam. A good different.  

On the bright side, Dean was brought back from Hell and you’re out getting drinks with him again. But Sam was running off with that damn demon. 

“A demon Dean, he’s fucking a demon,” you say over what you think is your fifth beer. “Have you noticed how her lips are too big for her face?”

“I’m a virgin,” Dean says thoughtfully to himself, completely ignoring you.

“Excuse me?” you laugh and almost spit out your beer. 

“Well, look at me. I mean, I came back from the furnace without any of my old scars, right?” Dean tries to convince you. “No bullet wounds, knife cuts, none of the off-angle fingers from all of the breaks- I mean, my hide is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Which leads me to conclude, sadly, that my virginity is intact.”

“That’s not how that works,” your laugh is so powerful it shakes your entire body. It's so loud that a few customers turn to glare at the two of you. 

“I've been re-hymenated,” he insists, before taking another swig of his beer. 

“No amount of trips trips to Hell could ‘re-hymenate’ you,” you shake your head and take a giant sip of your beer. 

“Why are you so hung up on Sammy anyway?” he changes the subject as if you two never strayed from the original topic. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, knocking back the rest of your drink. “Maybe it’s because he was my first friend in school, or maybe it’s because he was so smart without being a stuck up ass. Or maybe it was because he was dependable when it came to partner work-”

“So he was loyal to a fault, dependable, and your friend?” Dean cuts you off. “Are you explaining a dog or Sam?”

“He does do some killer puppy-dog eyes,” you scrunch your nose as you imagine them. The song in the bar switches to one that you like and you get excited. “I’m gonna go dance!” you leave before he can respond. 

You're awkwardly dancing to the music when you feel a body press into your back. You immediately assume that it’s Dean and giggle at his 

“Hey there little lady,” a voice that definitely didn’t belong to Dean whispered into your ear. You let out a little squeak as you tried to push away from the man. He was stronger than you, but your hunting skills should have helped you get away. And they would have if you weren't so damn tipsy. 

“Hey!” Dean’s deep voice rattles off the walls of the bar as he angrily walks up to you two. “Let her go.”

“Or what?” the man taunts. 

“Or you won’t live long enough to find out,” he growls. 

“You her brother or something?” the man laughs. You see the rage on Dean’s face grow as you wait for him to agree with the man. 

“No, she’s my girlfriend,” Dean’s voice raises along with his anger. “So I suggest you take your hands off her.” 

You’re heart pounds as you make eye contact with Dean, no one had ever stood up to a guy for you. Not even Sam had, surprisingly. As the man released you, finally, all you could think about is how your lips would feel on yours. So that’s exactly what you do. 

You just throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips to yours, they mould perfectly together. He tastes like beer and and the slice of cherry pie you two split earlier. The faint smell of gunpowder and car oil washes over you, and you feel completely calm for the first time in a long time. The kiss is a perfect mix of the fiery passion you two feel for each other in this moment, and slow and savory to help ingrain the feeling of the others lips in your brains.

A low whistle coming from a bar patron causes you to break apart. And when you do, you can see that the entire bar is staring at the two of you. Dean grabs your hand and drags you outside. He pins you to the door of the Impala and kisses you again, this time his tongue invades your mouth. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more fervor. You groan as he pulls away, but he quickly helps you into the car before running to his side. You spend the entire ride back to the motel cuddled up to his side and kissing his neck, he almost runs off the road once or twice. 

You’re ripping at each others shirts before the motel door can close behind you. He takes your shirt off before kissing you and gently leading you back to his bed, he shared a room with Sam while you got your own. You were busy taking off his many layers of shirts as he was admiring your shirtless form.

“Wait,” he pants and pulls away as you kiss him again. He gets up and paces the room, running his hands through his hair causing it to stick up in different directions.

“Why?” you pout. You start to get self conscious, do you not live up to the other girls Dean had been with? “Am I that bad?”

“No, God no,” his lust-blown green orbs meet your worried ones. “You’re perfect (Y/N), and that’s the problem. I don’t want this to be a one time thing to get your mind off of Sammy or the guy in the bar.”

“It isn’t a one time thing,” you admit softly, standing up and walking towards him. “Somewhere along the way I forgot about Sam and all I saw was you. I was just too scared to admit it, and then you were gone. It was easier to tell myself that it was always Sam instead of you.”

He doesn’t respond, not verbally at least He lunges at you and his mouth attacks yours. His lips detach themselves from your lips and gently kiss down you neck as he leads you back to the bed. 

--

You wake up the the sun seeping in through the cheap motel curtains. You blink away the sleep in your eyes and see yours and Dean’s clothes thrown haphazardly throughout the room. You smile softly before cuddling back up to his bare chest, his anti-possession tattoo stands out on his blemish free torso. You lightly trace the lines of the said tattoo, causing Dean to groan softly before shifting and pulling you closer to him. You're crazy messed up life had never felt so good before. 

You must have fallen back asleep because next thing you know, a loud what the Hell is waking you up. You blink quickly to adjust to the light, and see Sam standing at the foot of the bed. You quickly make sure that the sheet is pulled up high enough to cover your chest while slinking back behind Dean, who is now sitting up. 

“My best friend and my brother,” Sam says incredulously, reminding you a bit of Ross from friends when he finds out about Chandler and Monica. Maybe Dean was your Chandler. No, he is definitely a Joey. 

“It’s not like that Sammy,” Dean defends. God, that extra raspy morning voice is so sexy. 

“Not like that? Not like that?” Sam’s voice rises with every word. “I come back this morning to see my best friend and brother lying naked in his bed with your clothes everywhere. And it's somehow not like that? I come back-”

“From fucking a demon,” you roll your eyes. Both Winchesters turn to look at you; Dean in shock and Sam in rage. “I said that out loud, didn't I?”

“Yeah sweetheart, ya did,” Dean gives you a wink before turning back to Sam. “Sammy it’s different with (Y/N), she took my virginity.”

“Why?” I sigh, slamming my head into the flat space between his shoulder blades. 

“What?” Sam asks, more aggravated and confused than before.

“I came back from Hell, I was re-hymenated,” Dean says for what feels like the thousandth time in the past twelve hours. 

“Dean,” you groan into his back, wrapping your arms around his bare waist. 

“Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of hell, but no one could do that,” Sam frowns at his older brother. 

“Virgin or not, it’s different with (Y/N),” he leans back slightly in your arms. “I never want to let her go.”

“So don’t,” you whisper into his ear before nibbling on the lobe. 

“We’re gonna need our own room from now on,” he turns his head to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. 

“Can you guys not?” Sam asks in disgust. The only response he receives is an annoyed grunt coming from you. “I don’t fully support this, Dean’s going to hurt you.”

“I’ll give her a safe word,” Dean smirks as he pulls away from your mouth. He slowly eases you back onto the bed, hoping that Sam gets the idea and leaves. 

“(Y/N), listen to me-” Sam starts.

“I’m finally happy Sam,” you can feel the blood rush to your head as you grow angry. “I was a mess after Dean died, but you wouldn’t know that. You dumped me at Bobby’s and then ran off with the demon. Just let me be happy.”

“If it’s really what you want,” Sam says unsurely. You would respond with an affirmation if you could, but Dean’s lips were already back on yours, this time with the hint of a smile. Dean grabbed a pillow you aren’t on and chucks it, with surprising accuracy for someone not paying attention, at Sam. After Sam gets smacked in the face, he takes the hint and leaves, finally leaving you and Dean alone again.

permanent tags:  @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny

[chelseaheskett]

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2019 @ THE HOLT HOUSE

They were late getting the presents under the tree this year. Not for a lack of trying: Vanessa, quite adventurous, thought it would be fun and hilarious to tear off all the wrapping paper and low-hung ornaments from the Christmas tree. It was frustrating, sure, but all Chelsea could do was laugh when she found her little girl surrounded by baubles and fir and gift wrap in the living room. If she didn’t laugh about it, then she was sure to cry about it. Laughing and cleaning it up seemed easier. No use crying over spilled milk and all that. Now her and Elliot were up early morning Christmas Eve, preparing for the holiday before the sun could come up, while the rest of the house was still sound asleep. 

They were almost through wrapping and re-wrapping all the presents when they took a break. Chelsea constantly had to pee, anyway, so Elliot was the real hero. He did most of the work. “Here you go, baby.” She said, emerging from the kitchen with a freshly brewed cup of coffee for him. Empty wrapping paper rolls and jagged edges and small torn pieces of wrap covered the coffee table, so she handed it to him directly on the couch. She plopped down beside him, cradling her stomach. Twenty-seven weeks pregnant, now. Thankfully, Chelsea was starting to even out a little, mentally. Elliot was in and out of his sling, getting closer to recovery. Everything was starting to settle again. The miracle of Christmas! God, she loved Christmas. Ever since meeting Elliot, and falling in love with him then, it had become her favourite time of the year. She was so content that she didn’t even mind the early wake-up time. 

Chelsea threw her legs over Elliot’s lap. They were still warm and comfy in their pyjamas; Elliot in a long-sleeved shirt and his trademark cartoon PJ pants. These ones were white and fleece and had snowmen and reindeer and other animals printed all over them. Chelsea was in loose and matching flannel maternity PJs that she paired with pink bed socks. She flexed her toes in them, scratching the soft material against Elliot’s forearm. “You know what I want for Christmas?” Chelsea prompted, shifting to tuck herself under his arm, so she could cuddle into his chest. She paused for dramatic effect, wondering how his mind was going to wander... It did sound a little suggestive, in nature. She let him go that way for a moment, kinking an eyebrow, before finally putting her request out there in the open. “I want us to pick a name for the baby.” Chelsea raised her head, peeking up at him to gauge his reaction. “Can we do that today, please? Can we do that now?” She asked, sounding hopeful. Put on the puppy dog eyes, just in case.

They decided on a first name together by the time one of the babies (Isaac) started wailing on the monitor. Luca. They were going to call their little peanut Luca. There was something about short names, when it came to their boys: Jack, Isaac, Luca. Alex, too, in a way. Even if it was a nickname for Alexander, and even if he had nothing to do with Chelsea, it still counted. Chelsea still liked to count him, rest his soul. Their girls had long names, for some reason? Genevieve and Vanessa. It was cute, when she thought about it. She grinned, when she did. She loved her family. And that’s why Chelsea loved Christmas so much: spending so much time surrounded by her favourite people, celebrating them and showering them with gifts and love and appreciation. It was Thanksgiving turned up a notch. She just felt so happy. So happy and loved and fulfilled.

By noon, everyone was awake and dressed and running amok. Jenny was with Lucy until tomorrow morning, which kinda sucked, but Chelsea tried not to let it ruin her good mood.  Vanessa and Jack were in the kitchen with Elliot, who was cutting them up fruit for a snack. Isaac was clutching Chelsea’s cardigan on the couch, and trying to rip the holes wider in her jeans. He touched her stomach constantly, copying what he saw Elliot do all the time. Babbled to her belly, too. There was an animated Christmas movie flickering on the TV in the background, but Isaac wasn’t paying attention. He was more interested in watching Chelsea browse the internet on her laptop. She scrolled through her computer with one hand and brushed through Isaac’s hair with the other. 

“Elliot, baby, come here!” Chelsea shouted from the living room. Vanessa and Jack came running through the archway with plastic bowls. Elliot wasn’t too far behind, carrying one for Isaac. “Thanks, hon.” She said, tilting her head up to give him a kiss when he got close. “Say ‘thank you, Daddy’, baby.” Chelsea turned to Isaac to coach him. “Tank you, Daddy.” Isaac enunciated, grabbing a hold of his fruit bowl. He, too, lifted his chin to get a kiss. Chelsea lightly laughed. Yeah, this was the good life. Elliot sat down beside them on the couch and Chelsea passed over her laptop for him to see. Isaac nibbled on a piece of chopped up banana and slid off the couch to join Jack and Vanessa on the floor mat by the television set. He left his bowl behind, but Isaac never got too far away from them, anyway. Chelsea moved it to the coffee table, clean now, and bumped her shoulder against Elliot’s.

As always, Chelsea had to explain. “There’s this lady that makes these name signs, y’know, for like... newborn announcements and for room decor and... it lets you type in a name and see what they look like, with the design you want, before you buy one, so...” Her leg was bouncing, she was so excited. She pointed to the preview image on the laptop. A wooden circle, with animals printed on top, and the name Luca Elliot scripted above a hand-drawn star. They didn’t get a chance to discuss middle names earlier. Chelsea hoped he liked it. Hoped he wouldn’t push back against it, considering it was his name. Chelsea sucked in a breath. “What do you think? Do you like it? The... the sign and the name, I mean.” Chelsea asked, thumbing his wrist. “Should I buy it?”

The doorbell started chiming. Chelsea pulled a face, wondering who it was. Her Mom was in Wilmington until her flight back tonight, and they weren’t supposed to be seeing Macy and Amy and their families until dinner tomorrow. Last minute Amazon delivery? She wasn’t sure. “I’ll get it!” Chelsea announced, struggling to get off the couch with all her baby weight. She held her bump as she walked to answer the front door. 

Happiness was only momentary. The other shoe always dropped eventually. And again, again, everything came crashing down around her. Around them. They couldn’t even have one day, one damn holiday, without something bad happening, could they? Her shoulders tensed. She gritted her teeth. “What the hell are you doing here, Christian? You need to go.” Chelsea practically spat, holding onto the door, quite ready to slam it in his face. She felt sick at the sight of him. Angry. She’d punch him in the face again if she had to. 

“Chelsea, please just give me a chance—”  

“A chance? Are you dumb?” Chelsea cut him off, laughter bubbling at her lips. “It’s literally Christmas. Leave. Now.” It was either of his own accord or in a body bag, at this point! 

Christian held his ground. “Yeah, you’re right, it is Christmas.” Chelsea squinted at him, wondering what the hell he was trying to get at. “And my father is in town—”

“Good for you, asshole!” She swore, interrupting him again. Thanks for rubbing it in, Christian. Chelsea’s eyes prickled with tears, briefly thinking about her own father, and tried to close the door. Christian kept it open with the palm of his hand. Chelsea’s heart started to race. He could easily overpower her, like he’d done once before... but Elliot and her kids were in the house. Where was Elliot? She was surprised he hadn’t come to check on the door. It didn’t matter. He was better off staying out of this one, staying safe inside the living room. 

“My father, William Pearson.” Christian said forcefully. So? Sounded like a common name. Must’ve been plenty of them in California, let alone in all of America. But Chelsea wasn’t that stupid. She connected the dots pretty quickly. Refused to swallow the thought, though. Nope. She couldn’t believe that. She wasn’t going to buy into his bullshit.

“Goodbye, Christian.” Chelsea tried to close the door again, but it was no use. The fear and anxiety felt like it was choking her; labouring her breaths. 

“Elliot’s my brother.” Christian said it, anyway. Chelsea squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t be hearing this. Not now, not ever. “I swear I didn’t know. I just found out...”

“You’re lying.” Chelsea’s voice was rough. She opened her eyes just to glare at him, trying to will him away. Christian reached his hand out to... touch her? Comfort her? She wasn’t sure, but took her opening and slammed the door shut. Deadlocked it. Almost caught his hand in the frame. That would’ve been good, that would’ve been payback. Chelsea tried to control her breathing, hiding behind the closed door. Christian was still outside, on the porch. She could hear him.

“I have proof! I have pictures, I brought my birth certificate. I have Elliot’s, too. I have it all here.” Christian said through the door. Chelsea turned to press her back to it. Elliot was standing there, right there in the entryway. Oh God. Her knees started to buckle. Chelsea had to grip the door frame to keep herself from collapsing. Her heart rate was through the roof. 

[ownworldresident]

Side by Side. Chapter 14: Instinct

King Liam x Rayne (MC): With new additions to their family, Rayne and  Liam re-evaluate their relationship dynamic.

Disclaimer: Most  characters are the property of Pixelberry studios. I am just borrowing them and will return them when I am done.

Cameo by @hopefulmoonobject​ as Clair.

MASTERLIST

Side by Side Masterlist

Part of me thought I had abandoned this project, but Liam and Rayne thought otherwise it seems. Happy to be back. Enjoy!

Where we are at the moment:

Rayne and Liam have had their ‘talk’ but we aren’t sure how that went exactly, yet.

Madeleine is currently on trial for high treason. She has just confirmed that yes, Rayne’s mother was involved in Liam’s poisoning.

Drake, Leo, Clair and the others are doing their best to push Rayne and Liam in the right direction, and it seems to be working?

The twins Evelyn and Leo are just as cute as ever.

Chapter Fourteen: Instinct

“Sorry I’m late.” Liam stepped inside the small meeting room and closed the door. Everyone was seated except for Clair, who stood by Rayne at the end of the long table. The others looked up as he entered.

“So, what is this meeting about?” Olivia glanced between Liam and Rayne.

“You were at the trial, Olivia.” Rayne leant back in her seat, just out of Liam’s line of sight. Her voice was too calm. “You heard her.”

“Yes, I heard her,” Olivia replied, “but what are we going to do about it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Drake frowned, and when he adjusted his posture Rayne’s stiff frame came into view again.

“I know what you’re going to say, Drake.” Liam approached the table but remained standing. “Gen isn’t Cordonian. The rules aren’t clear in this case.” He looked up at Clair and addressed her. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. What are your thoughts?”

“I can’t say for sure but given the fact that she did almost commit treason, you could use that. She is an American Politician who almost caused an international scandal. How would the US respond?” Clair stated.

“We can’t know that until they do.” Rayne glanced at her friend, then laughed. “Ironically, Gen would know more about that side of the equation.”

“Your statement would have helped smooth things, though, wouldn’t it?” asked Leo. “And besides, the details of the trial aren’t being publicised yet. We have time to figure this out.”

“I can see what I can uncover.” Brow furrowed; Clair looked to Rayne. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No.” Rayne shook her head. “I will talk to her.”

“Fair enough, so I will do more digging. I still have friends in the Justice Department.” The smile Clair gave Rayne was lost as the latter focused on the table.

“Well-connected.” Leo laced his fingers behind his head and leant back, sending Clair an exaggerated wink. “I like that.”

“Well, Leo, one cannot have too many friends. Especially ones that owe you favours,” Clair smirked.

Drake cleared his throat. “Setting Leo’s ambitions aside,” he said, “Gen’s in custody now. She can go on trial soon, right? That will get some answers.”

“If she cooperates,” Rayne said to the table.

“Exactly. And if she does, we can whip out the polygraph again. Easy.”

“What perfect world do you live in, Walker?” Olivia stared at him.

“We’re getting off track,” Liam looked from Rayne to Clair, “but that could work. Will there be more repercussions for using a polygraph?”

“I don’t think it would be wise.  She would have to agree. That is not going to happen.” Clair said flatly.

“But say, just for a moment, that we do live in Drake’s perfect world.” Leo smirked at him. “It could have a pretty significant impact. I mean, would Maddie have admitted all that if she wasn’t hooked up to a lie detector?”

“Madeleine is a fool. Gen is not. You are going to have to get her to confess without a polygraph. It backed fired, though we got some good information.  Gen will not be easily tricked.  She has been doing this too long. She is connected too. We need to come up with something else. I will see if I can dig up anything that will help persuade her to tell the whole truth and not play games. But I will need a few days at best.” Clair opened one of the files she had brought, then nodded to herself.

“Maddy is an opportunist, not a fool.” Leo added. Though Liam agreed, that wasn’t his focus.

Liam watched Rayne’s frown deepen as Clair spoke, still staring at the table before her. Hoping her distraction wasn’t related to their last discussion, he instead focused on what Clair had said, but she had noticed Rayne as well.

“Rayne, what do think?” she asked her.

“I think there are too many demons in Gen’s closet for you to dig deep.” Rayne stood and pushed her chair back. “Excuse me.” She walked past Liam with barely a second of eye contact. He had seen that look before. She needed space. He would grant it.

“What is she talking about?” Drake frowned at the door as it shut. “I thought she didn’t have any contact with her mother.”

“Let’s just say, they are one of many reasons she doesn’t talk to Gen.” Clair looked at the door as well. “Liam, I still will contact my friends, but you need to be absolutely positive of each and every move we make going forward.”

“I know.” Liam watched the desk now, taking his time as the others waited for him to answer. “We have Genevieve’s trial in a few days. Rayne could get through to her before then, but if she goes to trial and we find nothing else, then – and only then – should you start looking into her history. Regardless of their relationship now Genevieve is still Rayne’s mother. Please keep that in mind.” He rolled his shoulders back. “Any questions?”

“I will look into her, but I need you to remember, Gen is no mother, she is simply a woman who gave birth to her.  The things that woman did...” Clair scowled, then spoke darkly, “I know Gen.”

Liam held up a hand to stop her. “Listen to me. You would have heard of my father’s deception. You know the grief he brought on Rayne and me. If he had died before I forgave him, I would never forgive myself. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt as a father, it’s that family is family, it transcends past action and present struggles. Respect her wishes. Wait until after the trial. That is final.”

“I didn’t say I would talk to her behind her back, all I s—"

“I know what you said, Clair.” Liam said firmly. “And this is what I’m saying. Understood?”

As if to protest, Clair opened her mouth, then shut it and exhaled. “Look, you’re right, just let me know what you need, and I will make sure you have it.” Clair stood. “I love her too, you know.”

“I know, and thank you.” Liam nodded, seeing the frustration seep from Clair’s face as she gathered her things. She paused as she passed him to the door.

“Look, Liam, I don’t mean any disrespect, I know you love her, and I hate that you are going through this.  So again, I am at your disposal.” She remained beside him for a moment, but when he offered no further reply, she nodded. “I’ll see you at the trial, then.”

Once the door closed behind her, Liam turned back to the others. All were still seated, watching the discussion like it was a tennis match.

“Does anyone have a problem with how that was handled?”

--

The courtroom seemed smaller when the lights were out. Rayne descended the stairs that held the podium at the front above and separate from the councillors and attendants and ran a hand along the front of it to guide herself. Madeleine had stood right there, within reaching distance of where she was now, and let the entire courtroom know what kind of woman Gen was. What kind of woman Rayne’s mother was. What she was capable of Rayne had, really, already known.

‘Their blood grandmother’ she had said, had drawn everyone’s attention to Rayne… She reached out now, pretending to scratch the face of the woman that threatened to take everything away from her.

Madeleine was in custody and the court had adjourned for the day. Gen was in custody as well. Rayne hadn’t been to see her yet, hadn’t made the journey down to the cells in the back of the palace. She would, though. She would have to. There wasn’t any way she could rest without knowing why, exactly, Gen had chosen that path. Wasn’t any way she could rest before seeing who her mother was. There would be no facade when she was locked away, no hiding. Maybe that was one of the things that had barred her from going thus far. Seeing Gen unrecognisable, even after all the hints.

“Rayne?” the soft voice carried from the entrance she had used, light pouring in from the hall. Liam stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face in shadow.

“Down here.” Rayne moved out of the shadow of the court proper and squinted in the hall light. His posture relaxed when she appeared, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. She wished she felt the same, but when he descended toward her his gait was stiff.

“Are you alright?” he said gently, squeezing her. Now that he was shrouded in the same dark, Rayne could make out some of his features. His warm smile, slight furrow between his brows, and the remaining tension in his posture. Releasing his hand, she brushed her fingers over his shoulders as she considered an answer, trying to rub the stiffness from his shoulders and arms.

“No.” she settled on with a small smile, letting her hands fall to her sides again, “but I will be.” she looked down at where Liam took her hand again, lifting it to brush his lips over her knuckles.

“Yes, you will.” he breathed deep and with the exhale finally relaxed. In the next moment Rayne had walked into him. She didn’t pause to think, only sought his comfort. Liam brought his arms around her and she felt his chest rise and fall against her own.

“We both will.” she mumbled, then recognised that this was the first truly intimate gesture they had shared since their conversation the day before. The constancy of Liam’s heartbeat soothed Rayne’s, and she pressed closer, balling the back of his shirt in her fists. A long moment passed before she pulled back to catch his eye. “Alright?”

“Yes.” Liam nodded, then smiled and stepped toward the door with a hand outstretched to her. “Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward the door, “it’s getting late.”

They had walked together out of the courtroom after the trial, but not like this. This was closer to the time they had been outside with the twins. There was a lot unresolved, Rayne knew that, but she could enjoy the arm around her and the man close beside her and pretend their worries were far away. Just for a moment.

--

Liam led the way through the living room of her apartments. He would have – should have – let her go ahead but couldn’t determine whether he would stay here. Rather than question her first, he went to say good night to Clair, taking her place in the twin’s room to say goodnight to them. After a moment of conversation he heard Clair leave, and Rayne stood at the door of the room, watching him. Heavy shadows sat beneath her eyes.

“I need to go,” she said. Liam frowned, sighing as he watched his daughter sleeping. He looked up.

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Let me come with you,” he whispered, stepping away from the cribs. Evie and Leo were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling with each small breath. For the rest of his and their lives he wanted to remember that image.

“Liam…” she turned back and swallowed hard. “I need to do this on my own.”

Rather than respond immediately, Liam followed her out of the room and gently pulled the door to behind him. He sighed, one hand on the knob, then released it and turned to her in the dark hall.

“I’m here to tell you that you don’t.” He kept his voice low. Rayne stood with her posture slumped, rubbing both hands over her face. The fact Liam found her in the courtroom of all places told him she couldn’t think of anything else.

“What would you do,” she said quietly, “if it was your mother who had poisoned me?”

“I…” Liam considered his answer. He had barely known his mother, but he knew Rayne, and if someone he loved had hurt her, even someone he loved… “I would want answers.”

Rayne nodded, turned her head toward the front room of her suite, but didn’t move. He saw watched the conflict on her face.

“Rayne listen to me,” he brought her attention back and took her hands, “going down there right now will not get you any of the answers you would like. You don’t have to do this alone, but if you do, then at least go in the morning. Please?” he ran his thumbs in firm circles on the back of her hands, and she took a moment to look up at him.

“I need to know why.”

“I know,” he pulled her close, “and you will, but not tonight.” Liam anticipated some resistance but got very little. Rayne relaxed in his arms when he drew her close again, and he kissed the top of her head as he swayed.

“In the morning.” she mumbled against his chest. Liam smiled and stepped back.

“But for now you should sleep.” Liam pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. It had grown a lot since the twins were born; she kept it tied back so often he had hardly noticed. Rayne nodded, and cleared her throat before moving past him. He paused awkwardly but smiled when Rayne grabbed his hand.

“Stay with me.” she said firmly. He smirked at the command, then followed her into their bedroom. His bed had been so cold without her, it was good to have this again. He would work hard to regain that trust. Or whatever it was he had lost.

--

The next morning, Rayne stepped out of the nursery to find Liam dressed and ready. and her heart beat faster as she anticipated their task. Finally she could find answers from the woman who used to be her mother.

“Ready?” he smiled. Rayne nodded, and at the arrival of the nanny, they left together.

The cells were as cold as their title suggested. There were four of them, so engrained in the palace that they couldn’t be dismantled without structural damage. It made Rayne uncomfortable to have these here, but at least they meant she could do this without going to city. Having the public watch her now was a bit more than she could prepare for. Yet. She would have to face them eventually.

Liam squeezed her hand when they reached the entrance to the cells and released it as he stopped walking. Rayne frowned.

“Liam?” she questioned.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he tilted his head and observed her closely.

“Oh.” Rayne had completely forgotten her intention to go alone. Having him beside her was natural and bolstered her courage but she had stated her plan and stood by it. “No. Can I call you later?”

“I’ll wait here.” He smiled. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Her own smile vanished when she turned away to the cells. Gen was in the furthest one. She focused on exactly what that woman was here for, fists balling as an echo of the anger returned. Liam was being lenient here, and Rayne had a feeling that it was more to do with his being unsure of where their relationship was right now. They hadn’t exactly discussed it the night before, and their candid talk before then had raised more questions than it answered. Without glancing back she turned a corner and strode to the cell.

“Gen.” Rayne demanded. The woman sat on the bed at the back of the cell and looked up when Rayne stopped at the bars.

“Good morning, Ray.” She stood and brushed down her outfit. Rayne felt some satisfaction in Gen’s lack of expensive clothing before recalling how exclusive her own wardrobe was.

“It’s Rayne,” she corrected. Gen’s smile faltered for just a second, before it covered her face again and she approached the bars.

“Rayne, then.” she stood a few steps back from the bars and linked her hands before her. “Is that all you came for? To correct the use of my daughter’s name?” The corner of her mother’s mouth twitched up higher.

“Let me make this very clear; I am not your daughter.”

“If that is the case, then your children are not my grandchildren, and I have been falsely accused.” She peered around the corner, but no one else was in the room and Liam was out of sight. “You didn’t bring your not-husband with you.”

“That’s beside the point,” Rayne said quickly, as heat rose in her cheeks. I want to marry you the words echoed in her mind once more… she cleared her throat. “Why did you come to Cordonia, really?”

Gen’s brows pulled together sympathetically, and Rayne reminded herself of the woman’s profession. “As I have tried to tell you twice,” she began, “I think you are in danger. Regardless of how little you think of me, I still love you, and I want you to be safe.”

“Even assuming that is true.” Rayne paced in front of the cell, “how am I in danger?” She paused to take in Gen’s expression and the older woman’s face fell.

“I don’t know. I received an anonymous tip through my campaign manager that someone was plotting against you. Why would I come all this way during the middle of my campaign if I thought it was idle rumour?” she folded her arms across her chest and watched her keenly. Rayne stared at her, then let out a short, hollow laugh.

“I won’t answer that, because we both know that you never do anything that isn’t for your own gain.” Rayne paced again. “No contact from you since long before I left America and that’s barely scratching the surface. I meant what I said in the café. You would have to go back two decades to rekindle a relationship with me.” She felt a few hot tears build in her eyes and blinked them away. It was moments like this Rayne thought of her brother. What she would give to have Warner here with her…

“And I mean what I’m saying now.” Gen’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, dropping her arms to her sides. “I love you, and all I want is for you to be safe.”

“You have a strange way of expressing it.” Rayne approached the bars. “Is that why you helped Madeleine? Did you think that handing my infant son and daughter to an opportunistic narcissist would bring me back?”

“I…” Gen paled, for a moment she seemed unable to speak, then her jaw set and her hands balled into fists. “Yes. Because that is the only way for you to see that these people are not your people. They are not your family.” A few errant tears ran down her cheeks as she spoke.

“And did you poison Liam?” Rayne finally asked, her voice becoming hoarse. She met Gen’s gaze sternly, unwavering. Eventually, Gen looked away.

“Yes. I won’t apologise for that.”

“There is no apology you could possibly offer that would negate that action,” Rayne’s voice shook, “and just when I thought you couldn’t get any worse. Wherever you end up, I hope you remember that you are a horrible human being without morality.”

Without another word to say, Rayne left her, feeling the anger rising in her again and hoping Liam was outside.

“I just wanted my daughter back,” came Gen’s defeated voice as Rayne rounded the corner.

Angry tears invaded her focus in the hall, and she didn’t see Liam until she was inches from him.

Wordlessly Liam brought his arms around her, and Rayne felt her own tears soak into his shirt. When she pulled away, she looked around for something hard to hit. Liam caught her arm.

“Come with me,” he said, turning away from the prison cell.

She didn’t argue, and allowed him to lead her through the halls, barely registering where they were until he opened a door to a familiar set of stairs. “Really?”

“Really.” He waited for her to enter. “Come on.”

Down the short staircase were the training rooms, and by the time they reached the padded floor, Rayne’s tears had almost dried. Liam walked to a wall of equipment and retrieved a pair of padded mitts, fastening them to his hands as met her halfway across the mat.

“Ready?” he asked, settling into a defensive position. Rayne stared at him for a moment, then pulled off her jacket and shoes, balled her fists again and struck.

--

Rayne walked after Liam into the courtroom, Leo and Regina close behind. She felt surprisingly calm, if a little surprised at following directly after Liam. The press conference a few days ago must have done some good.

The room wasn’t as crowded as when Madeleine was on trial, but there were still a lot of people. She took her seat beside the royal family as Liam walked to the podium. Opposite her once again were Drake, Olivia and Clair. The latter winked at her, and she sent back a grateful smile. Liam waited for the room to fall silent, then cleared his throat.

“Bring her in.”

--

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[leelee10898]

Eyes on you

Cordonians Gone wild: a TRR AU collaborative effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @cocomaxley @riseandshinelittleblossom and myself. Catch up HERE

Leo and Alicia finally have their Royal Re-do wedding. This was inspired by the Song Eyes on you, by Chase Rice. This is Fluffy!

She stood in the center of the boutique dressed in a strapless white  A line dress that hugged her curves, a sweetheart neckline that highlighted her ample breast, the stunning lace overlay pulling the entire ensemble together. She married Leo in a quicky Vegas wedding a few months back, both way too drunk to remember most of the ceremony. Though one thing was clear, they were both completely head over heels, maybe even more today. She was pissed when Regina refused to acknowledge the union, forcing them to hold the traditional Royal wedding, but now, she was glad she agreed. Today was going to be the day she married the love of her life again.  

We've been to both Carolina's

Seen a big Montana sky

Driven up and down the coast a few times

London, Paris, paradise

But I ain't got much memory of the scenes come to think

I miss them all every damn time

It's all your fault

“well, this is it.” Alicia turned to face her friends,  tears welling in her eyes. “Don't cry… you'll make me cry.” Genevieve waved her hands in front of her face. Pam walked over to her “It'll be just like last time, just… less vagina.” she giggled as she pinned the veil in her hair. She turned to face anitah who was tearing up, her bottom lip quivering “Anitah, don't do it. Because if you do it, then I'm going to do it.” Alicia started to tear up as well. “Leo's not going to be able to keep his hands off you.” Anitah laughed and sobbed at the same time. “Thank god the makeup artist put waterproof makeup on us.” Stephanie sniffed.

No matter where we go

No matter what we do

If you're there girl, I've got my eyes on you

Don't matter where we've been

No there ain't no better view

Than you in my arms with my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

She stood at the double doors, Genevieve walked down the aisle meeting Rashad, next was Pam joining Drake, followed by Stephanie met a grinning Maxwell. Anitah went joining Liam, Alicia stood there taking a deep breath. She wasn't nervous, though the filled cathedral of people may have had her slightly on edge. She was excited. She had always told him, her favorite part of a wedding was the look in the grooms face when he seen his bride, and she could not wait to see him. “Are you ready?” Bastien extended his arm. She smiled as she took it “More than anything.”

Speaking of the coast, remember Pfeiffer beach?

You and me, that sunset, cliffs by the sea

And the night rolled in

And you still talk about that moon that I can't recall

But God I sawAll I needed too

Might as well have stayed in the room

The doors opened, the sea of people stood as stood. Her eyes steady on him as he turned and locked eyes with his bright blues. His wide smile met his eyes as she could see him tear up immediately.  He looked devastatingly handsome in his Black suit, white shirt and vest, with a Royal blue tie. She didn't think it possible for him to be any more attractive, but she felt weak in the knees. Bastien kissed her cheek as Leo stepped down eagerly taking her hand. “You are breathing Love.”  she smiled at him “I love you.” she whispered “I love you.” he replied. The minister began the service, she took both of his hands, their eyes glued on each other.

No matter where we go

No matter what we do

If you're there girl, I've got my eyes on you

Don't matter where we've been

No there ain't no better view

Than you in my arms with my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

With my eyes on you

“Alicia, From the moment I laid eyes on you, you took my breath away.. I was never one to fall for someone, but when it came to you, I drove head first. You have shown me what true love is, I may not be the perfect man, but I want to spend the rest of my life being the perfect man for you.”

Alicia spoke with tears in her eyes. “Leo, when I came to Cordonia I was only coming for my best friend's wedding, I never expected to meet my soulmate. Every day with you is an adventure, your zest for life brightens my days. I love you more than words could ever express, I know with you by my side we can surpass anything that comes out way. I can't wait to continue our adventure as your wife.  You are the bread to my butter, beat to my heart, I will always be the pebbles to your bambam.” Leo wiped his eyes as he chuckled, Alicia joining him. Their friends around them all giggling and snorting.

Do you Leo take Alicia to be your wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse,for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, all the day of your life.

“I do.”

Do you Alicia take Leo to be your husband. To have and to hold  from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, all the days of your life.

“I do.”

They exchanged rings, the minister pronounced them husband and wife.  Leo eagerly grabbed a hold of her waist his lips immediately finding hers as he dipped her down. The crowd cheered around them. As they took their first walk, well second walk, as husband and wife.

Don't you remember Times Square?

And people counting down everywhere

Two thousand whatever, no I didn't care'Cause baby you were there

And once again Couldn't help but stare

No matter where we go

No matter what we do

If you're there girl, I've got my eyes on you

Don't matter where we've been

No there ain't no better view

Than you in my arms with my eyes on you

Leo twirled her around on the dance floor. As they shared their first dance. Leo insisting it be eyes in you by chase rice. “Can you pinch me?” He looked into her eyes. “why would I pinch you?”

“To prove this is not all some dream.”

“If it is, it's a damn good dream.” she giggled.

“How did I get so lucky? I spent so much time running away, that I didn't realize I was running to something. To you.”

“Leo..” her hands reached around his neck pulling him into a heated kiss. They pulled away his head resting on hers. “Besides, I am positive I struck gold, you can keep up with me between the sheets.” Alicia but her lip “Flattery will get you everywhere Mr Rhys.”

The song drew to an end Leo whispered into her ear “let's sneak away Mrs Rhys.”

“I thought you'd never ask.. Mr Rhys.”

Halfway around the world

Or the local corner booth

Yeah you guessed it girl

You know I got my eyes on you

We could be on any street

Any party, any room

I'll be there all night with my eyes on you

Don't matter where we've been

No there ain't no better view

Than you in my arms with my eyes on you

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[chrysaliseuro2018]

In-Side

When my brother Dougal married Genevieve in 1982 who would have thought it would indirectly lead us to the Turkish beach city of Side (pronounced Sidday) on the Mediterranean 36 years later.

The link? Genevieve’s sister Barbara and her friend Penny when travelling in Turkey during the late ‘70’s met and went on to marry Turkish men. While Barbara and her husband Hasan spend time in both Tasmania and Side, Penny and Ali live permanently in Turkey.

As luck would have it Dougal and Gene’s house renovations, yes they are crazy enough to embark on two, are currently affected by the usual permit delays. So being opportunistic travellers they decided to squeeze in a month’s worth of travel while the local council bureaucrats twiddle their thumbs. As luck would have it their dates in Turkey coincided with ours so a rendezvous in Side was planned.

Doug and Gene stayed in Side a few years ago but for Chris and me it was a wonderful opportunity to share the experience. Side, while not exactly your quiet beach getaway, is a tale of two cities.

Firstly there is the new section cluttered with over development of the worst kind. Not unlike our charmless Surfers Paradise, it’s dominated by huge monolithic hotels. In a laughable attempt at authenticity some have been topped with faux Mosque-like domes. They are the palaces of package tours. Apparently Russians in particular subscribe to all-in resort packages which apparently suffered during recent years of unrest and the odd terrorist incident in Turkey. Now the tourists are returning and in our mind’s eye we could only imagine the morning bun fight for pool lounges.

Secondly there is the quaintly named ‘Antique Side’ which is where Penny and Ali run their little beach front hotel The Beach House. In contrast to the vast new developmental expansion of modern Side, Antique Side is perhaps realising what an unrealised gem it has right under its nose. It occupies an entire small peninsula which was clearly Roman given all the artefacts, pillars, foundations and mosaics to be found there. In recent years developments which were built on the ruins have either been compulsory removed and replaced with glass flooring over the ruins, or glass flooring has been installed in shop floors to expose the ruins. Further excavation is still underway and with some cooperation and planning the entire peninsula could be a major Roman site for visitors.

Apart from the hotel Penny and Ali also have traditional stone house and an apartment on the other side of the peninsular to the hotel. This is only a 5 minute walk through streets dense with shops selling t-shirts, soccer shirts of every variety, jewellery, bags, Turkish delight, nuts and all kinds of souvenir dross. First two nights were spent at the hotel followed by another 2 at the apartment. Originally we all planned to stay at the house but with a disco not 100 metres away pumping out door doof until the wee hours we all, even our resident disco king Chris, thought better of it.

The hotel offers a certain quaintness with a location right on the little beach. It has particular appeal to Poms of a certain age demographic - Chris had no trouble striking up conversation. Many have been returning for a number of years enjoying a relaxed and familiar environment. Penny and Ali were congenial and generous hosts who let Chris and me ride on the familial coattails of Doug and Gene offering us free accommodation. We were very fortunate indeed.

So how did we spend our 4 days at Side......

# The weather was hot so many an hour was spent on the hotel sun lounges or bobbing in the warm Mediterranean. We took to the beach umbrellas unlike the Poms who thought nothing of laying out all day in the blazing sun (judging by the brown leathery skin this has been their habit through the decades).

Generally in the morning the sea was flat but as the day went on the choppier it got. Making the most of the calm sea were several party boats in the guise of faux pirate ships complete with artificial rigging, a sliver of cloth purporting to be sails, a statue of a captain with eye glass at the bow and a plank to walk off at the stern. Amusingly on closer inspection one was a catamaran - a very modern take on a pirate ship indeed. Dougal thought they looked so unsturdy that it would only take one decent wave to capsize the whole contraption sending 100% pirates overboard. I confess to spending 4 days secretly wishing for that rogue wave.

# Gene, Barbara and I went to Manavgat the neighbouring town to do some shopping at the warehouses with Hasan as our driver. Unfortunately it was a Sunday meaning many were closed. Still we found a few open and got a few odds and ends. Highlight was a visit to a shop selling spices, grains, dried fruit, nuts, pastries and Turkish Delight of all colours and flavours. Generously they encouraged us to sample whatever we wanted and even some things we didn’t even know we wanted. If only weight and customs restrictions didn’t limit overseas purchases. But when a whole box of Turkish Delight (well over a kilo) costs 8.30 Turkish Lira, about A$2.50 which is less than the cost of one piece in Melbourne, it became a must-have even if i can’t get through it all.

Finally we paid a brief visit to Hasan’s 80+ year old mother. Mum sat quietly in the corner chatting to her sister and niece until Barb put her son Michael on FaceTime to speak to his grandmother. The transformation from quiet little old lady to excited and animated little old lady had to be seen to be believed.

# Penny’s husband Ali has a farm at Akseki just over one hour’s drive north east of Side. Fortunately Ali frequents the farm regularly so we all joined him for a day. Took 2 cars as Ali was staying overnight (we considered it but decided to make it a one day trip) so we had Dougal at the wheel. Turkish drivers have scant regard for road rules....step out on to a pedestrian crossings if you dare, stopping at red lights is optional and double white lines on the road are treated as decorations. Needless to say the drive was a little hairy at times.

First stop, the local market at Akseki. If one were looking to buy fresh market veggies, fruit, grains, nuts and pulses of all varieties, undies, clothes circa 1970, pots and pans, oversized wooden spoons, little sewing kits or even nail clippers this was the place to visit. A few nuts were purchase along with some strawberries which while tasty were a little over the hill and disappointing.

Next stop lunch. Nothing like a local to take you to a restaurant. Feasted on meat pides and like their Italian cousin the pizza, the serves looked enormous. But what you think at the outset you’ll never finish, somehow seems to go down a treat. Add to this a simple but delicious salad and a view over the valley....perfection.

Then onto Ali’s house in the town to admire his menagerie. A summary: 2 English setters, a cat, dozens of laying chooks, a couple of roosters, pheasants, bantams, hatching eggs, chicks, budgies, two quails and a partridge in a pear tree! Then the mini orchard of apricots, cherries and sour cherries. Not done with yet we then drove to their farm. Largely it has been planted out with walnut trees as a crop. Along with those was Ali’s veggie garden of onions, melons, beans, garlic and more fruit trees. It has to be said he is a man in touch and in love with nature.

Headed back towards Side but stopped at Sarihacilar a sleepy one horse town. The old if-you-blink-you-miss-it sort of place. It’s unlikely many tourists make their way to this town but Doug and Gene had recommended the museum. Totally overpriced in the scheme of things but actually worth every penny in a weird and wonderful way. Exhibits were largely routine; lots of butter churns, cooking pots, rusty old tins and a random collection of firearms, musical instruments, clocks and of all things, radios ranging through the decades. The two highlights were (1) the ‘curator/guide’, himself a rusty old relic, who escorted us around trying embellish the tour by bringing his artefacts to life with his several words of English. (2) the wooden baby’s cot complete with inbuilt potty. This worked by strapping on one of two funnels to baby, ingeniously designed to accommodate genitalia differences of males and females, so the pee was funnelled into the potty. Only design fault was baby had to always be asleep on its back. Otherwise genius and a big saving on sleep time Huggies.

Museum done, complementary chi enjoyed we were then given a tour by the proud owner of the renovated hotel. There are some walking trails around here one of which Doug and Gene had previously walked. (Mid 30 degree temperatures discouraged us.) In the heat and dryness the Nordic feel of the pine lined lodge-like hotel seemed totally incongruous. But apparently it gets bitterly cold in winter which would make this an ideal bolthole to bunker down in with a pack of cards and a few bottles of wine.

Having seen the ‘major’ sites and heading back to the car, the Mosque caught our eye. Well more accurately we caught the imam’s eye. With the help of his young son’s schoolboy English, of which the imam was glowingly proud, we did a little tour of the Mosque. It was unremarkable yet lovely. As always a beautiful chandelier, modest decorations but some lovely framed versus of the Q’uran. Chris formed the strongest connection with the imam who gifted him a copy of the Q’uran Abridged. (Conversation rate 0 to date). Just as we were leaving the call to prayer started so Chris and I whipped off out shoes, I re fitted the supplied headgear and we ducked back inside....was it the imam calling live or a recording? Happy to report it was the former.

All in all a wonderful day out.

# Hasan generously invited us all to the Turkish night at his cousin’s multi storeyed hotel (everyone seems to be everyone else’s cousin in Side). It was a glorious night on the open air rooftop and Hasan secured a table in the corner to take advantage of the view. Dinner was a buffet and advice was to get into it before the locals arrived at 8.10 starving after a day of Ramadan fasting. So we all ate well and lots, a particular highlight of the savoury spread was the smoked trout, while those with a sweet tooth, rated the Baklava highly.

After dark the belly dancer appeared shimmying and shaking her way though a routine to more contemporary music than we were used to hearing nightly when we lived at York Place. When it became time for audience participation I was grateful to be so blocked in as to be unavailable. Chris was the most likely candidate but Miss Nubile had enough willing participants before getting to our table. We all enjoyed watching the various efforts of tight shoulder and tight hipped conscripts however I suspect Chris was just an incy wincy bit disappointed he wasn’t up there strutting his stuff.

So after 4 days of hanging with the locals it was time to move on making sure not to overstay our welcome. We had been thoroughly spoilt and indulged. As we left for for our next adventure we couldn’t help but think sometimes you just get lucky!

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.4

A/N - Thanks for letting me know that you like this series. One chapter after this to go. Yes, I’m aware this is a blurry photo of Sigefrid. Chapter 3.

Finishing his ale, Sigefrid glanced up to the second story before scanning the room and calling out for a refill. It had been just over a week since he decided to end the lessons. With Genevieve’s knowledge, he felt it a waste of his time. If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was, he had no interest in learning to read and never did. As a warrior, he was well versed in a more recognized language, violence, and that had served him well.

Despite calling it off, he still found reason for her to stay close, deeming her his personal thrall. The scrolls being retrieved were few and far between, the last two of no interest at all. He kept her somewhat busy though, maintaining his chamber, tiding his things, organizing his baths, and generally… being near.

For days now, there had been a bounce in his stride and his voice seemed to boom louder than ever. As brothers do, Erik teased him that the Danes at home across the ocean could likely see his smile. Perhaps he was in a good mood, but by the Gods, he felt the world was at his feet.

Having beat Erik and some of the men back from hunting, he sat in his chair like the king of everything, watching his little brother approach, crossing the yard, and entering the dining room. Straightening, he flashed him a toothy smile, the kind he typically reserved for the maidens.

“My brother the hunter!” Sigefrid yelled out, holding out his horn of topped up mead.

Dropping down into the chair next, Erik smiled and adjusted the tiny ball of orange and white fluff against his chest, so tiny it fit in one hand.

“What a catch, brother! We will feast tonight!” Sigefrid bellowed out, laughing loudly at the sight of the small kitten.

“Found him in a stump on his own. Family must have been eaten.” Erik looked over at his big brother whose attention had already moved on. “I cannot look after it. I was thinking you could give it to Genevieve.”

Lowering his cup, mid drink, Sigefrid made a face, “I will not be giving her kittens. Gen is my slave.”

“Hmm, that’s right. I almost forgot.” Erik looked back down to the fur-ball in his hand, now biting his rough finger with its tiny teeth. “Fair enough,” he shrugged, “I will give it to her then,” he pushed out of the chair and headed for the staircase.

“You will do no such thing,” Sigefrid called after him, getting up and following.

Pausing, with one foot on the step, Erik looked back over his shoulder, failing horrendously at trying not to laugh.

Scowling, Sigefrid put out his hand, “Give it to me.”

Erik passed it over but not before faking him out, pulling it just out of reach once. “I will get out of your way then,” he nodded and moved passed, returning to his chair.

Making a half snort, half grumbling sound, Sigefrid headed up the stairs, shaking his head at a smug-looking Erik.

----

Entering his room, he closed the door behind and watched her look up from where she sat in a chair below the window. A mustard colour tunic was in one of her hands with a needle and thread in the other. Mending the split seams of his shirts seemed to be a weekly task and she had already, painstakingly, re-cuffed his shirts to fasten properly below his blade.

“Lord,” she said softly, putting her work aside to stand and greet him properly but he waved her off, indicating for her to stay put.

As she was lowering her sights back to the shirt she paused, clearly noticing how his eyes were fixed on her, his one arm tucked behind his back.

Cocking her head softly to one side, she squinted, looking somewhat suspicious, “What are you up to?”

Walking over, he swung his arm around presenting the kitten, its little head, the only part visible above the top of his large hand.

Her eyes shot wide, and she gasped, shooting up out of the chair.

“Chaton!” she cooed, taking the kitten into her hands and bringing it up to kiss its little head between its equally tiny ears. With bright eyes, she glanced up at him, her smile beaming.

“Its a cat,” he said, his face looking puzzled.

Laughing, she turned the kitten around to better see its face, “Yes,” she laughed again, “a tiny baby cat, chaton.”

It made a near soundless meow and she squealed and cooed at it again. Her entire reaction making him feel funny.

“Where did you get it?”

“Erik found it somewhere. I,” he hesitated, swallowing the fact it had not been his idea, “thought you might like it.”

Frowning, her head shot back. “Me?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” he dropped his chin, eyeing her, “you.”

“Why?” she asked softly as if still not believing it.

His brows furrowed, “If you do not want it, I will just take it outside and kill it.”

“No!” Her mouth gaped open and she brought the kitten under her chin as if to shield it. “Lord, you would not dare.” She eyed him, looking not entirely sure he was teasing.

The astounded expression on her face made him snicker.

“What?” she asked. “It takes nothing away from a person to be kind, particularly to an animal.”

“Gods you are gullible. Of course, I would not hurt a cat,” he told her, outright lying. “Its to keep you company.”

She looked back to the kitten, her brown eyes still shining.

“In case you are tiring of mine,” he grinned, his smile reaching his dark eyes and she pressed her lips together, her cheeks instantly starting to colour.

Retreating, he headed for his bed, taking a seat and started on the laces that held his cuff and blade in place.

Grabbing the basket beside her chair, she placed a drying cloth inside, gently placing the kitten down.

Moving to him, her small hands pushed his large one aside and she continued working on the laces. His eyes moved to her face, as they always did, and he noticed how her hair was partially pulled back from her face and that her dark lashes were slightly lighter at the tips.

“You will go for your supper without this?” She glanced up and he felt caught staring.

He made some grunting sound but did not answer as she loosened the laces, pulling off the appendage. Obviously, heavy in her hands, she placed it down on the table next to his bed. Pushing air out of his mouth, he held the end of his blunt arm, wincing, as he attempted to squeeze away the pain.  

“Would you like me to rub some of your oil from the healers on it?” she looked at him with a sincere face.

It made him want to bark like a dog with laughter. His sweet slave offering to rub his stump with oil. Gods, yes, he wanted that, thinking that he, himself, was truly the funniest person he had ever known.

“No,” he tried not to smile. “I am tired from hunting and have an early morning. Go to the kitchen and bring something back for both of us. You can eat with me...in here.”

Lowering her eyes, she nodded, and he fucking loved how shy she got.

“Also, gather my things for the raiding trip tomorrow. It will be at least four nights on the road.”

Her eyes shot up and she looked as if she had more to say but remained quiet.

“Speak woman.”

“Is that why you brought me the kitten? Because you will be away for so long?”

There had been many moments since she came into his life that he had wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, this moment was no exception.

Squinting, he leaned a little closer and gently bopped her nose with his finger.

“You, Genevieve, are coming with me.”

Instantly, she looked relieved, excited even, as if he had just lit a flame inside her.

“Oh,” she rushed. “Yes,” she looked around the room at his belongings. “I will pack your things once I return with supper,” she glanced back. “And milk for the kitten.”

Pushing back onto his pillows, he stretched out on the bed, watching her return to the basket and pick up the cat.

Walking back around to his side, she hesitated, “Lord?” Reaching out, she placed the kitten on his stomach, holding it in place until he raised his hands to take it. “Please, hold him until I return. I cannot leave him alone in a basket. He is only a baby,” she smiled down at the little thing.  

“Go,” he ordered, looking at the fidgeting ball of fluff with unnaturally sharp claws. If only Erik could see him now. Shit, he really needed to raid, swing his sword and breathe in the scent of blood and gore, undecay his masculinity. Watching her leave, he picked up the runt, bringing it closer to his face, and let out a long, weary sigh, “A fucking cat in my bed.”

----

“If you have something to say, say it,” Sigefrid said, spying at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Both were atop massive horses, riding through a large field. More than a dozen others, mostly on horseback followed with two male thralls each with a horse and wagon; one carrying camp supplies and the other empty with the anticipation of returning full.

“Speak,” Sigefrid urged glancing again at Erik who was unable to hide his smirk.

“There is nothing to say, brother. I simply did not realize we now brought our personal thralls with us raiding,” he smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “Wait,” he furrowed his brow, “I do not even have have a personal thrall.”

“She is our translator,” Sigefrid shot back, also keeping his eyes forward.

“Of course,” Erik quickly replied. “My apologies, instead of attacking each village, we will send her in ahead and she can simply ask where they keep their valuables.”

At that Sigefrid shot Erik a glare, making the fair-haired Thurgilson laugh outright.

“Sigefrid,” Erik continued, “This has given me a thought. I will keep my eyes peeled for a pretty young captive so I may, too, have my own,” he paused, “personal translator. Also one with big tits and heart eyes whenever I am near.”

At that Sigefrid’s resolve cracked and he tipped his head back, laughing from his gut. Turning to look behind, his laughter simmered as he locked eyes with Genevieve who followed on a chestnut horse. Too far behind to have heard, she gave him a small smile.

“Hey,” Sigefrid straightened, glancing over at his brother, the slightest frown on his face. “Does she look at me with heart eyes?”

Scoffing, Erik shook his head, “I swear to the Gods, you’d be lost without me?”

———

The site to set up camp had been selected and the poles and canvases erected in lightening speed. The location sat between three villages all approximately half a morning's ride distance. It had been decided they would hit one a day before returning to Beamfleot.

Although the summer night sky had not cast the camp in complete darkness, torches were lit and both cooking and campfires started. It was late by the time all the work was done and the brothers entered their tent to find Genevieve, just finishing setting up their beds.

Without a second thought, both men began to strip down to their undershirts, Erik, immediately, flopping front first onto his bed; Sigefrid sitting on the edge of his, unstrapping his blade.

“Lord,” she spoke so quietly he nearly missed it. “I will go if you do not need anything else.”

“Woman, you are not sleeping with the horses.” Turning, he peered at her over his shoulder, “or worse...Haesten.” He jerked his head to the spot beside him. “Get in, just try to keep your hands to yourself, eh?”

Smiling, his eyes lingered on hers just a moment before looking back down, struggling with the leather laces that would not loosen. Circling the bed, she got down and knelt on the grass in front of him, finishing the task he struggled to do with one hand.

Pausing, with his heavy blade in her lap, she looked at the miscoloured skin at the end of his arm that he immediately began to squeeze, as he always did.

“Lord?”

“What?” he answered, looking at her, so close he could smell whatever she washed her hair with.

“It is so tight; it cuts off the blood. Must you wear it even when not fighting?”

Reaching down, he took the blade out of her hands and dropped it onto the grass beside his pillow. “Get in bed,” was his only reply.

Quickly, she rose, and he could tell by her tight face that she was embarrassed. Instantly, he was hit with a pang of something in his chest. Lowering down onto his side, he closed his eyes, listening to the rustling sounds of her undress; lifting her dress over her head, folding it, and placing it down. Getting into bed, she pulled the thin woven blanket over them and he swore he could smell the faint floral scent of her skin. Laying still, he did not bid her goodnight or roll over to catch a glimpse of her in her slip. If he had there would have been little hope of his hard-on ever going down.

----

The mood around the bonfire the following night was boisterous. The day’s pillaging unexpectedly fruitful. These were moderate sized villages and the goal had been to secure improved equipment for Beamfleot, not necessarily fine valuables. However, they stumbled upon a cellar of a comparatively small church that had been stockpiling. Only four pieces of gold but numerous items of both silver and copper. It had been quite a find.

The mugs and mugs of ale made it impossible for the men to contain their merriment, as they laughed at the Saxon’s misguided thinking, hiding valuables in a church.

Meat stew and pan bread were being devoured by the bowl full and a second keg already opened. Making the rounds with a pitcher of ale for the umpteenth time, Genevieve refilled horns, looking rather relieved that her camp cooking had been so well received. Lifting his blade, Sigefrid waved her over.

“Sit woman, have a drink, you are my thrall, not theirs,” he shot her a cheeky smile, glancing down at the log beside, indicating for her to sit. By her rosy cheeks and quickness to smile, he could tell she, too, had been sampling the ale. Even his men had noticed how festive she looked in their gleeful, half-cut states.

Passing her his cup, he motioned for her to drink, not liking the way Haesten’s lurking, dark-edged eyes continued to stare at her from across the fire.

“Surely Lord,” Haesten piped up as if sensing Sigefrid’s thoughts, “you must share her with Lord Erik, all cozy in one tent,” he wiggled his brows. “There is certainly enough of her to go around,” he chuckled, taking a sloppy drink from his cup.

Grunting, Sigefrid opened his mouth to speak but it was Erik who responded first.

“Easy Haesten, the girl does need you ogling her. My brother does a fine enough job on his own,” he teased, evidently wanting to keep the mood light, “and you know Sigefrid never shares.”

The men, including Haesten, laughed, quickly returning to their cups, and Erik glanced at his big brother before taking a drink of his own.

Less in the mindset to slough it off, Sigefrid glanced over at Genevieve who sat frozen with her face tilted down, looking at the ground.

Without thinking, he brought his arm up and around her, gently pulling her to his side and rested his hand on the round of her hip. 

“He is an ass. You are tougher than that to let him bother you,” he spoke quietly.

“Lord, may I be excused. I promise to wake early and tidy in the morning.”

“Go on, I will not be far behind,” he lifted his arm away.

When he pushed through the flap of the tent, it was empty, no Genevieve. Spinning to head back out, he nearly knocked into her carrying a bucket of steaming water.

“There you are,” he smiled like a fool from both the drink and her own more muted smile.

Moving around to his side of the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it down, leaving him in only his pants and boots. He knew his body was strong and powerful, the marks painting the history of his battles. Looking at her, he stifled his amusement catching her steal a glance at bare chest. 

“Are you bathing?” He asked, noticing the hot water and cloth in her hand.

“No lord, it is for you to wash before bed. I heated it on the cook fire while everyone was drinking.”

“Genevieve! Is that your way of telling me that I smell?” he chuckled. “And you do not want to share a bed with me smelling like,” lifting his arms, he sniffed his armpits, “a man!” 

His shit-eating grin had returned.

Laughing softly, she shook her head, “You smell like you did not survive the fight today.”

Mouth gaping, he pretended to take offense and she let out the loudest laugh he had ever heard from her.

“You insult your master,” he continued, beginning to unbutton his pants for bed, “I should..”

“You should what?” She cut him off playfully and he could tell she was pushing herself to be bold.

“I should be,” he said sarcastically, lowering his chin and eyeing her, “pulling you down onto this bed so you can really enjoy my stink.”

“And...” she made eyes at him, fluttering her lashes, “I should be hoping that you do not.” As soon as her words were out, she froze and her face began to turn from the ale rich pink to a fully flushed red.

He also tensed, his mind beginning to race. Truthfully, the Gods knew he could be thick when it came to women, but he was not wrong now; she was goading him, insinuating that she wished he would take her to bed. All the months together, he had been treating her like some fragile fawn; one, in need of protection. He was many things, a brute, a killer, a horrible dancer but never a man who forced himself onto slaves. She was not a fragile slave though, was she? She was a twenty-year-old woman. A gorgeous twenty-year-old woman who was flirting with him. 

Fuck this, he was going for it. Taking a step toward her, her eyes did a double-take, noticing and smiling at the look on his face.

“You still up?” Erik blew through the tent flaps heading for his bed. Dropping down to sit, he began taking off his boots. “Haesten is a dick-weed.” Looking up, he paused, seeing both Sigefrid and Genevieve standing stiff, staring at him, Sigefrid’s pants slightly open and his shirt no where to be found.

“Should…I.. come back?” He lifted his brows.

The two of them replied at once, her saying no and him saying yes.

Shrugging, he grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking it off over his head. “What a surprise,” he remarked, standing up to undo his pants. “The two of you yet to get your shit together.”

Genevieve turned and walked the bucket and cloth over to Sigefrid’s side of the bed, not making eye contact when he approached. Stopping, he stood close, closer than he ever had, and she finally looked up, her face even but her brown eyes still sparkling.

“Do you need help?” she whispered, maintaining his gaze and subtly pinching her lower lip with her teeth.

At that, his cock nearly broke through his pants. Clearing his throat, he glanced behind at Erik, returning his gaze to her face....her perfect, gorgeous, beautiful face looking up at him.

“Turn in,” he nodded toward the bed, “I can manage. I will be just a moment.” Taking the cloth from her hand, his fingers stroked hers as he willed himself not to reach up and brush her dark hair away from her cheek.

“I will first get Lord Erik’s hot water.”

Opening his mouth to object, she reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her eyes relaying the message that she would not be long. Moving around him, she headed out the door of the tent.

“Thank you Gen!” Erik yelled after her, glancing over to Sigefrid with a grin.

“Gen? Really?” Sigefrid frowned making Erik laugh. “Go help her with the bucket,” Sigefrid grunted, opening the rest of his pants and turning away to conceal his erection.

“She is your… translator,” Erik replied.

“True, but it is your hot water and I refuse to be your wench.”

----

When she felt the hand slide around her front, just under her breasts and embrace her from behind, she straightened, exhaling into the feel. It was the round, fat stomach pressing against her back that made her freeze and attempt to turn.

Another hand slammed against her face, muzzling her mouth and stopping her from screaming as the arm around her ribs tightened. 

“Hmm,” Haesten’s slick voice rattled in her ear, his hand squeezing her face. “At last, my blooming flower, I can feel that plump ass of yours against my crotch... where it belongs,” he hummed again. “I am a patient man but it is hard to watch you trip all over Lord Sigefrid, knowing what juicy things they do to you at night.” Breathing his wretched breath on the side of her face, he ground himself harder against her. “Tell me, who takes you from behind while the other stuffs your mouth? If only they shared, I could....”

A thud came from behind and she was jolted forward, Haesten’s tight grip falling slack, releasing her. He slumped onto the ground at the back of her heels, and she spun around, horrified, tears already running down her cheeks. Standing over a dazed Haesten, Erik held his collar, the round bread pan in his other hand.

“You fool!” he screamed into Haesten’s face. “You had better get on your horse and ride fast before my brother catches wind of this.” Erik’s eyes looked like they were ready to rupture. “And believe me, he will.” Hauling the fat man up to stand, Erik got right in his face. “I give you this chance only because you have fought well for us but you know Sigefrid will not be as forgiving. Go!” He yelled and Haesten stumbled backward, turning and rushing away into the shadows.

Reaching out, Erik pulled Genevieve into an embrace, rubbing and patting her back as she wept.

“Thank you, Lord,” she straightened, shakily wiping her face. “Thank you. I do not know what I would have done,” she sobbed again.

Turning, he kept his arm around her shoulders, readying her to walk.

“Truth is,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “I do not know what would have become of me if you and Lord Sigefrid had not found me in the first place...made me a slave. Surely, I would be dead.”

“Genevieve,” he rushed softly. “You cannot possibly think you are just a slave. And Haesten is the only man in Beamfleot stupid enough to ignore Sigefrid’s order to stay away. My brother,” he shook his head, his eyes looking large and round in the moonlight, “I have never, in my life, seen him so gentle with anyone… until you. He cares for you a great, great deal. But,” he straightened, “that is a conversation for the two of you to share. Come,” he moved them forward, “Let us return and watch steam shoot out of his ears when he hears about this. It will be quite a sight,” he pressed his lips together, guiding her back in the direction of the tent.

——

That was the first night they slept in each other’s arms. It had taken Erik’s full convincing for Sigefrid to stay and not take his sword and track Haesten through the woods. After fuming and pacing the grass floor, he climbed into bed, and slid close behind her, wrapping his arm tight around her waist. She did not flinch or pull away, she nestled her head back below his chin and placed her arm over his, holding it, like she never wanted him to let go.

Next Chapter 

@naaladareia​​​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​​​​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​​​​ @hecohansen31​​​​​​  @ceridwenofwales​​​​​​ @mdredwine​​​​​​ @ceridwenofwales​​​​​ @whenimaunicorn​​​​​ @laketaj24​​​​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​​​​ @medievalfangirl​​​​ @edythofhastings​​​

[holylulusworld]

Married per accident – Part 9

Summary: After her fiancée cheated on her the reader meets a hot stranger in a bar and get married. She’s got not clue that he is Jensen Ackles.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki

Warnings: drunken marriage, pregnant reader, angst, tension, blood, fingering (barely), miscarriage, sad reader, sad Jensen, fluff (comforting)

Married per accident Masterlist

  2 months later

 "Jensen, did you really announce that I'm pregnant on your goddamn Instagram account? Didn’t you learn from the past?” You scold.

"Sorry, but I needed to share my luck with the whole world."

“Jay, you know most of the fans hate me. They will go rampant again.” You sigh.

“No, they won’t. Look at all the nice comments.” He insists.

“Wait a bit longer. The haters going to hate, you know it and me too.”

“Don’t care. I need the world to know that my wife is going to have my baby.”

“Fine. Do you want to describe how we made our baby too?” You ask.

Giggling you look at his darkened face. Licking his plump lower lip he stalks toward you.

“Not a chance, Ackles. I’m still mad at you.” You scold shaking your head.

"We could show them," Jensen says chuckling.

“No way! No sex video you pervert!” You scold.

“Then let’s just do it…you look so hot today. Two months Baby. I miss my wife.” Stripping your clothes off with his eyes he smirks at you.

“No.”

“I know you miss me too.”

“Maybe, but I’m still mad at you.”

“I could make you forget you’re mad.” Giving you a Dean like smirk he stares down at you.

“I really hate you sometimes! So now let’s talk about the cake.”

“Cake?”

“You’re sister wants to know which cake we prefer for our wedding. A wedding I didn’t agree to so far.” You state.

“She called you…sorry. I know you wanted time to think it over.” Jensen sighs.

“I wanted time to be sure you want me. You were the one with doubts, not me!”

“So you want to marry me?” Kissing down your neck he makes you whine for more. Moving his hands under your shirt he slowly strokes your barely not there baby bump.

"Don't seduce me, Ackles! I need to …"

“You need to what?” Chucking he moves one hand into your panties.

“I…forgot…”

Humming he rubs your clit gently while you try to resist him. Smiling at you he admires your wrecked state.

“I really need to…god…I forgot what I wanted to do.” You whine when he removes his hand from your panties.

“Please let me make you feel good.”

“No, I need to do something.” You try to resist his smile, those tiny wrinkles at his eyes. Now he’s licking his plump lower lip, staring down at you with his goddamn emerald eyes.

“God I really hate you! Fine, you’ve got two hours then I need to see my doctor.”

“Hmmm…two hours with my beautiful wife.” Smirking he carefully picks you up, almost running toward the master bedroom. Moving your legs around his waist you start giggling.

“Slow down. I’m pregnant remember? Don’t let me fall down Jensen.” You scold.

“Never.” Carefully placing you on the bed he looks down at you with an odd expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, I just…I should’ve slapped her face for saying those things to you.”

"Jensen, a man should never hit a woman. I would never ask you to do such a thing. By the way, Jared sent me a video. Gen slapped your exes face. I just wasn’t sure you would be okay with this so I didn’t show you the video.”

“Wait Jared filmed it? Little pervert…maybe we should make a video too,” Jensen tries to joke.

“Huh? No, Jared wanted to tape Misha and Richard singing but then he heard yelling and turned around and taped Gen slapping that bitch.”

“You know you’re cute when you use swear words. So sexy.”

“I’m not cute, Ackles!”

“You’re so cute, sexy and in two minutes naked…”

“So full of yourself, Jay?”

"Oh, you're head over heels for me since I sat down next to you in the hotel bar."

“No.”

"Yes, you are."

“No, I’m head over heels for you since you kissed me after we left the bar and you offered me to bring me to my room.”

“See, you are hopeless in love with me.”

Tickling your sides Jensen chuckles at your reaction. Giggling you slap his chest.

“No…maybe I have a little fangirl crush…”

“Baby, you refused to go to your room.”

“As you pushed your tongue almost down my throat.” You scold.

“God, you tasted so good.”

“And then you wanted more…”

“You said no and then we got married.”

“Yeah, as you wanted to pop my cherry, pervert!”

“Come on you liked it…me worshipping you.”

“Hmm…I must admit you weren’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?”

"Well, you're great in cuddling."

Smirking at him you stick your tongue out.

“Cuddling?”

“Maybe some of your moves aren’t that bad either.”

“Let me show you my moves Baby.” Biting your ear shell he groans.

“Show me what you can do, Ackles.”

“Let’s see what we can do for my pretty wife.”

"Well stripping your clothes off would be the first step." You giggle. Before you can say anything else you feel pain shooting through your body.

Whimpering you hold your stomach while Jensen rushes to your side.

Stroking your back he calls an ambulance when he sees the bloody bed sheets…

Panicked you look around the hospital room. Jensen is holding your hand looking sad down at you.

"What happened?" You ask worriedly.

“You were bleeding. I called an ambulance. Maybe we should wait for the doctor,” Jensen whispers. Hearing the sadness in his voice you know something’s off.

“Just tell me what happened Jay, please.”

“The doctor said you lost the baby.”

Starting to cry you can't bear the pain of losing your baby. Shaking you can't stop the tears from falling.

“Shhh…everything is going to be okay.” Jensen tries to sooth you.

“No, I lost our baby.” You sob.

“That’s not your fault. The doctor said it was a miscarriage due to a corpus luteum deficiency.”

“I lost our baby.” You repeat bursting into tears.

Taking place next to you in the hospital bed Jensen holds you tight. Kissing your forehead he whispers loving words into your ear to soothe you.

"I love you, baby. We can try again. We will try again."

“What if I lose our next baby too?” You sob.

“The doctor said they can give you medicaments. She will explain everything to you later. Rest now, Y/N. I know you’re sad, I’m sad too, but we will get over it – together.”

“Can you stay here over night? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Sure, I’ll stay. I won’t leave your side. I had to call Jared to cancel tomorrows filming. He’s outside with Gen. Do you want them to come in?”

“Is it impolite if I say no?” You whisper.

“No, Baby. They will understand. I tell them to drive home and they can come back tomorrow.”

"Tell them thanks for come around."

Kissing your cheek Jensen hugs you tight before leaving the room for a moment. Waiting outside Jared looks at his best friend’s sad face and his stomach drops.

“She’s … she wants me to tell you two thanks for coming. She needs time, you can visit her tomorrow.” Jensen stammers.

“No problem man. I know this is hard for you two. Go back to your wife and we call you tomorrow if we can come around. Tell her we're sorry. We really are," Jared says squeezing his friend's shoulder.

"She can always talk to me, Jensen. Tell her I'll be there for her," Gen adds.

"Thanks, guys. I better go back."

Re-entering your room he finds you sobbing in your bed. Lying down next to you he let you rest your head on his chest. Holding you tight he tries to find the right words to soothe you.

“I’m here Baby. I love you. We will get through this.”

“I love you too, Jay.” You whisper.

“Rest a bit Baby. Tomorrow we talk to the doctor and I promise we will find a way to move on. I know you’re beyond sad, me too but we love each other and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, no! You told everyone on Instagram I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

“Shhh…that’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sorry I lost our baby.”

���That wasn’t your fault. We will try again. I swear we will have the whole house full of children one day.”

Nodding you stroke his chest gently while Jensen strokes your back.

Sobbing you try to find a way to survive the loss of your baby. What if Jensen only stayed with you as you were pregnant? What if he did want his ex back?

"I love you, baby. I didn't stay married to you as you were pregnant," Jensen whispers.

Did he read your mind?

“I love you too, Jensen. I just…if you want an annulment now…I would understand…”

“Don’t you dare saying that again! I only want you, Y/N. Now rest a bit baby and tomorrow we’ll find a way to have another baby.”

“What if I never…?”

“Then we adopt a child or ten. Or we adopt twenty dogs,” Jensen chuckles.

“You know you’re awesome right?” You whisper.

“You’re not so bad yourself, baby. Now sleep. We find a way, promised.”

Humming you drift into sleep while Jensen holds you even tighter.

Losing his unborn child hit him hard, but he will survive it. But losing you – he doesn't want to imagine losing you…

Married per accident Tags

@bitchwhytho, @gh0stgurl

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom , @thewinchesterco , @hobby27, @kittycatlover18,   @gh0stgurl , @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana15, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @love-my-not-natural-babies, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @mirandaaustin93, @hawaiianohana15, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen

[daniellethamasa]

Hey all, Dani here.

Greetings! I usually like to do these monthly wrap-ups on the first of the month, but I had a couple post office delays with the delivery of my OwlCrate and a Book Loft package, so I decided I would wait one more day since the shipment tracking said I would get them both today. Thankfully they arrived a few hours ago, so I was able to put the finishing touches on the post.

April was actually a really good month on the being in home and watching shows, reading books, blogging, and playing Animal Crossing. Granted, it was also a lot more stressful in terms of going into work, and I have a feeling that it’s only going to get worse on that, as more and more people are deciding that they are tired of the restrictions of social distancing and now with mandatory wearing of masks, so they are taking their unpaid leave and just not dealing with it. Unfortunately it means those of us who are left have to work even harder, which is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. I’m now actually finding myself wishing that the factory would just close for a week or two until the manpower struggles lessen a bit, but I don’t think that will happen. It’s immensely frustrating. I don’t want to be there with everything going on, but I can’t afford to take two weeks without pay.

But today’s supposed to be a pretty nice day, so I think Damian and I are maybe going to go to a state park that has some pretty nice and wide hiking trails, so we can get outside and walk around a bit. We’re obviously taking our masks with us too. I bought some of Etsy, getting him a Slytherin mask and me a Ravenclaw one. I ordered a couple others but those haven’t shipped yet.

As usual with my monthly wrap-up, let’s start off by checking in on my overall goals for the year.

Reading: I read 30 books in the month of April, 10 of which were manga volumes, two were re-reads, and three were novella length. Overall that takes me to 101 books read already in 2020. Still, I’d say that is a pretty good month of reading. I should probably count up how many pages that is. Okay, I did the calculations, and only counting finished books I read 8,707 pages in April…but really I’ve probably read a few hundred more if you include unfinished reads. Overall though I’m super happy with that. I successfully completed my requirements for the OWLs Magical Readathon, so all I have to do is pass the NEWTs in a couple months and I’ll be a Trader of Magical Tomes. I also participated in Dewey’s 24 Hour Readathon, and that was a whole lot of fun. Plus, I am currently in the middle of the Calendar Girls Springtime Whirl, going until May 11th, so I’m hoping to read a few more books at least for it–I haven’t achieved a bingo yet, but I’m really just having a good time trying to read to fulfill random prompts.

Blogging: It was the best month on my blog so far this year, and pretty close to being my best month in the history of Mousai Books, in terms of stats anyway. In terms of number of blog posts, this was definitely the best month overall…but I’m going to dial it back a little bit, because there’s no way I can keep doing like 10+ posts a week. It’s not sustainable for me right now. But I do still feel pretty good about continuing to have posts up pretty much every day. I wrote up 46 blog posts in the month of April, which is impressive, but it was also a whole lot of work. I did really enjoy the content though. I had a lot of books to talk about, and I especially enjoyed my National Library Week posts.

Writing: Well, I wrote a lot of blog posts, though that doesn’t count on the creative writing front. I was all excited about jumping into writing my book and then the world went to crap and I can’t get in a good mind set to write, so I’ve focused my attention on reading, and more study of the craft of writing. So it’s progress, but it isn’t progress in a trackable form such as increasing word count.

Conventions: Right now we are waiting to see what’s going to happen with Gen Con in late July/early August. It is a massive convention, so we’re expecting there to at least be a ton of restrictions. Lexington Comic and Toy Con ended up being postponed again, this time to June 18-21, and then it was just announced like yesterday that the 2020 convention is being canceled. But we both really want to work with Colorworld Books again, so we’re hoping that Cincinnati Comic Expo in September will still be good to go. My friends at Colorworld Books are trying to continue with their business as a digital affair, but 99% of the profits were made from attending conventions, so this has been a struggle for them. If you want to go check out their online store, that would be great. They have metal art prints and bookmarks, geeky t-shirts, and books. Oh, and you can use ConLife30 for 30% off of all metal, or CORONACON for 10% off any shirts. Oh, and they have actually started doing Colorworld LIVE convention style events just about every week. They gather up three or four awesome voice actors, hold a livestream panel, then a VIP panel for anyone who buys some signed merch, and of course you can get shirts, metal art prints, and more with characters these actors have portrayed. It’s pretty cool.

Okay, I guess I should start with wrapping up my time with the OWLs Magical Readathon. I was going for the Trader of Magical Tomes career path, which required me to read 4 books. I ended up changing one of the books from my TBR out because it was taking me so long and I worried I wouldn’t finish it in time. But, other than that, I was successful in reading all four books, so I’m ready to continue my Magical Tome training in the NEWTs later this year.

I’m also in the middle of the Calendar Girls Springtime Whirl, which is a bingo inspired reading challenge running from April 13-May 11. Once the reading challenge is over I’ll share a post with an updated bingo board covering all the categories I completed.

All right, let’s run through everything I read in the month of April. If I have a review up, I’ll also include the link back to that post.

City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare — 4.5 stars

Bonds of Brass by Emily Skrutskie — 5 stars

The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett — 4.5 stars

Manga Classics: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Po Tse — 4 stars

The Queen of Raiders by Sarah Kozloff — 5 stars

Mr. Penumbra’s 24 Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloane — 5 stars

Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren — 4 stars

You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle — 3.5 stars

The Library Book by Susan Orlean — 5 stars

Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron — 5 stars

Hickville Crossroads by Mary Karlik — 4 stars

An Affair of Poisons by Addie Thorley — 4.5 stars

Fruits Basket Collector’s Edition Volume 4 by Natsuki Takaya — 4 stars

The Invisible Library by Genevieve Cogman — 4 stars

Steering the Craft by Ursula K Le Guin — 4 stars

Witches of Ash and Ruin by E. Latimer — 4.5 stars

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone — 5 stars

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey — 5 stars

Fairy Tail Volume 8 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin — 4 stars

The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu by Joshua Hammer — 4.5 stars

Fairy Tail Volume 9 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming May 4, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 10 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming May 18, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 11 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming June 1, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 12 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming June 15, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 13 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming June 29, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 14 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming July 13, 2020)

Fairy Tail Volume 15 by Hiro Mashima — 5 stars (review coming July 27, 2020)

The Last Smile in Sunder City by Luke Arnold — 3.5 stars

The Honey Don’t List by Christina Lauren — 4.5 stars

Whew, that was quite the list of reads for the month. Seriously I had a lot of fun reading this month and definitely found some books that are contenders for my Top Ten Reads of 2020 from April to June, so that’s great. Unless something bad happens, I have a feeling that this will be my best year of reading in a long time.

All right, next it’s time for the book haul portion of things, starting with the OwlCrate unboxing.

I think I’m really going to enjoy putting together the Moony puzzle, and the book sounds rather interesting. Clearly I enjoy having another notebook, as those are handy to have around. Same with the tote bag. And Damian really likes the wooden phases of the moon banner, so I gave that to him to add to the decorations in his man cave. I actually do like the OwlCrate version of this cover better than the original. The people are a bit closer and bigger, and the cover has this wonderfully eerie glow to it, almost as if it is bathed in moonlight, which is great. Plus those sprayed edges.

And, before I get into the rest of the books for my monthly haul, I want to talk about some other purchases I’ve made lately.

The stickers I bought off of Redbubble and they are from a dozen different artists. A few of the stickers are for Damian (and he already put them up in his man cave) and the rest are going on my art wall collage. The metal art prints are from my friends at Colorworld Books, and I love the metal art, but it is not easy to capture their beauty in a photo because of the reflection of light. Maybe I’ll think of doing a little video of them in my Instagram stories or something. I might pick up some more art this weekend. We’ll see.

As part of the bookhaul portion of today’s post, I need to do a shout out to The Book Loft of German Village in Columbus, OH. After some requests on social media, they complied and decided to offer a Malamarkus Mystery Box. You pay a single price for the box, tell them in your order comments what genres you would like, and then they fill the box with items such as books, a tote bag, bookish pins or stickers, etc for you. I have purchased two of these boxes, and it’s really fun to get a package where you have no idea what books they will select for you. The first box I ordered I gave them the genres of Epic Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Manga, with a couple examples of authors/series for each. I loved the selections so much that I picked up a second box, asking this time for fiction that makes me feel like I’m playing Dungeons & Dragons.

What’s really fun about both of these boxes is that they ended up having books for both Damian and myself. In the first box he got Dr. Stone because he watches the anime and wanted to try the manga, and The Starless Sea because I already owned a copy. In the second box I gave Damian The Last Wish, Heart & Shadow, and The Shadow of What Was Lost, again because I owned all of them already. What is really funny is that I had just bought and received that last one from my Barnes & Noble order a few days ago. Oh, and Damian also got the tote bag because I already have one–in that exact same color.

Okay, now for the standard bookhaul segment of the post.

Along with picking up the two books in her Dasreach Council series that I didn’t have, I also was able to buy that lovely Beauty and the Beast stained glass cloth mask from author Josette Reuel as well. We are now required to wear masks while at work, and I wanted to have a selection of cloth masks instead of relying on the disposable paper ones they are going to hand out at work. Though I’m still trying to figure out a good/easy way to be able to get a drink while also working on the factory floor, because the masks make you overheat even faster and that means you dehydrate even more.

Finally I guess it’s time to talk May TBR. I am sort of participating in Moody May, hosted by Kathy from Books and Munches and Destiny from Howling Libraries, and the whole point of Moody May is to read whatever you are in the mood for, which is perfect for mood readers who don’t like TBRs. But I’m sort of a mixed reader, because I enjoy having a somewhat planned TBR and then picking up mood reads to supplement my reading. So, I have made a rather ambitious TBR, which will probably be supplemented by shorter mood reads.

See what I mean? This stack of books is massive. Why am I doing this to myself? Honestly it’s because I seem to pick up thick fantasy reads as the weather gets warmer. I don’t even know how many pages are in these 10 books. So, yeah, I was curious and checked and those ten books are 6,276 pages.

Now that doesn’t include the fact that I’m in the middle of three or four other books that are also around 500 pages each. What can I say? I do love a good lengthy read, especially right now when my weekends are not filled with running around or playing D&D for hours and hours.

April Wrap Up and May TBR Hey all, Dani here. Greetings! I usually like to do these monthly wrap-ups on the first of the month, but I had a couple post office delays with the delivery of my OwlCrate and a Book Loft package, so I decided I would wait one more day since the shipment tracking said I would get them both today.