Ah, I'm So Glad You Liked It! I Was Nervous That He Was Going To Come Off A Little Overbearing But I'm

Content

IMAGINE: On nights like these, private NCIS agent Gibbs would rather be down in his basement working on a project. He wasn’t one to go out to bars or spend all night playing some game online like his coworkers. Tonight, however, thanks to a bit of liquid courage, you show him another way to enjoy the night. WORD COUNT: 767 WARNINGS: Fluff with our favorite hard ass agent, mentions of heavy alcohol intake

Gibbs can’t think of the last time he felt this content. There were moments he’d prefer to hide in his dimly lit basement; working on his projects and sipping on his bourbon.

This time he was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter sipping on tepid coffee he found lying around. It would’ve been a shame to let it go to waste. 

Unfamiliar music played softly in the background, tempting him to shut it off, to enjoy the silence. But from past experience, Gibbs knew that if even tried shutting it off, he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Instead, he settled for enjoying his rapidly cooling caffeine boost, successfully hiding his grin behind his mug.

There weren’t many things that could convince him to ignore urges like that; his coworkers could count on one hand what could.  

“Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to join me?” You teased from across the room, slowly swaying along to the music. 

Not even Tony would ever guess that his stone-faced boss would ever be put in his place by a lover. 

“I’m fine with just enjoying the show,” Gibbs replied. 

“You’re no fun, Jethro,” you pouted. Before he could say anything, you swiped up your own mug from the kitchen table, loudly drinking down the contents. You pulled away with a whine, signaling you finished it sooner than you liked. 

“Is that from that bottle Tobias tried bribing me with?” Your boyfriend questioned. “I thought he knew better than that.” 

He pointed to the dark bottle left on the table, squinting to see how much was left in it. 

“Honey.” It wasn’t often that Jethro used pet names, so this sudden use caught you off guard. “That damn thing is almost empty, I think you’ve had enough.”

Maybe that was true. On your second glass, you had spilled some wine on your shirt, prompting you to replace it with one of the oversized navy sweatshirts Jethro kept around. He had yet to comment about you stealing his shirt, but based on his smirk, he didn’t mind. 

“Finish it with me then,” you pleaded. 

“I’ll stick with my joe,” he assured, lifting his mug to prove it.  

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the wine bottle, almost knocking it off the table. It didn’t click in your head how fast Jethro moved; first, he was next to the fridge and now he was by your side holding the bottle you had almost knocked to the floor. 

“Thank you for proving my point,” he grumbled, begrudgingly pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking around for a stopper. 

“I was gonna put it away,” you grumbled back. 

You paid no mind to Jethro’s complaints, choosing instead to slide across the kitchen floor in time with the music. Your sock covered feet drifted smoothly against the linoleum tiling, sending you into the counter that your boyfriend previously occupied. Unfazed by the crash, you gracefully take a seat on said counter, ignoring the fact you almost fell over attempting to do so. 

“Don’t go too crazy there, I’d rather have you in one piece,” Jethro chided. He kept an eye on you as he stuck the bottle in the fridge. Before he could even shut the door properly, you started tugging on his shirt, silently begging him to come closer. 

“What are you doing, huh?” He asked. 

“I wanna dance,” you mumbled. 

“You want to dance?” Jethro repeated. He didn’t bother hiding back a smile this time as he watched you thumb the buttons on his collar. “May I remind you you’re pretty drunk at the moment? Do you think you’re up for the job?” 

Eager to prove him wrong, you hop down from the counter (With Gibbs subtly steadying you) and pull him close. 

“Oh, this means you want to dance with me?” He asked cheekily.  

At this point the music became a softer tune, encouraging Jethro to join you. What else could he do but oblige? 

The two of you began to sway, holding each other close. Neither of you spoke, choosing to simply lean into the other and enjoy the moment. 

Gibbs couldn’t think of the last time he felt this content. Having you here in his arms, not having to worry about Tony and Ziva bickering like children or Timothy getting picked on by said agents. He could just relax in the privacy of his own home with you. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“For what?” You drowsily teased, feeling the effects of the alcohol slowing hitting you. 

“For being you.” 

Can you please write an imagine where Gibbs’s significant other gets wine drunk and steals his shirts and dances around his kitchen in socks and sit on his counters and sway with him while he’s super amused and whispers in her earnd y? Please and thank you!!

I hope I did this request justice; fingers crossed you like it!

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

This is a summary of college only using two pictures; expensive as hell.

That’s my Sociology “book”. In fact what it is is a piece of paper with codes written on it to allow me to access an electronic version of a book. I was told by my professor that I could not buy any other paperback version, or use another code, so I was left with no option other than buying a piece of paper for over $200. Best part about all this is my professor wrote the books; there’s something hilariously sadistic about that. So I pretty much doled out $200 for a current edition of an online textbook that is no different than an older, paperback edition of the same book for $5; yeah, I checked. My mistake for listening to my professor.

This is why we download. 

 Alternatives to buying overpriced textbooks

Textbooknova 

Reddit

Bookboon 

Textbookrevolution 

GaTech Math Textbooks

Ebookee 

Freebookspot 

Free-ebooks

Getfreeebooks 

BookFinder

Oerconsortium 

Project Gutenberg

Hey, can you write a Jared Cameron X Male Reader(human) where Jared imprinted on the reader(which is his best friend that Jared abandoned when he phased) when Jared saw him after a long time and he tried talking to the reader but the reader is too hurt 'coz of Jared abandoning him so he avoided Jared whenever he tried talking with the reader but Jared never surrendered to win back his elusive best friend (imprint ) and they became lovers at the end

While this sounds like an amazing storyline, I do not think I could do Jared any justice! I don’t know too much about him per se, and I know some die-hard Twilight fans will have my head if I mess it up. I’m truly sorry to disappoint you.

Just red the paul imagine and.. i wish there was a sequel to it 😂😭 it's so goood! I like the way you write, it's very smooth!. 😍😍

Thank you very much anonymous! 😙 And I don't plan for there to be a sequel but there will be other imagines!

Sherlock Holmes (2009) dir. Guy Ritchie

HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE Let’s say it’s 6.15pm and you’re going home (alone of course), after an unusually hard day on the job. You’re really tired, upset and frustrated. Suddenly you start experiencing severe pain in your chest that starts to drag out into your arm and up into your jaw. You are only about five miles from the hospital nearest your home. Unfortunately you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it that far. You have been trained in CPR, but the guy that taught the course did not tell you how to perform it on yourself..!! NOW HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE… Since many people are alone when they suffer a heart attack, without help, the person whose heart is beating improperly and who begins to feel faint, has only about 10 seconds left before losing consciousness. However, these victims can help themselves by coughing repeatedly and very vigorously. A deep breath should be taken before each cough, and the cough must be deep and prolonged, as when producing sputum from deep inside the chest. A breath and a cough must be repeated about every two seconds without let-up until help arrives, or until the heart is felt to be beating normally again. Deep breaths get oxygen into the lungs and coughing movements squeeze the heart and keep the blood circulating. The squeezing pressure on the heart also helps it regain normal rhythm. In this way, heart attack victims can perhaps buy precious time to get themselves to a phone and dial 911. Rather than sharing another joke please contribute by broadcasting this which can save a person’s life! Be prepared and become part of the solution. Get your free next-of-kin notification card today. Click here: https://www.InCaseOfEmergencyCard.com/

It’s Ok

IMAGINE: Dating someone can get a little hard when someone doesn’t like your boyfriend. But you and Bucky can get through it, right?  WORD COUNT: 3.6k  WARNINGS: Trauma, a little cliché but hey you’re a teenager in most of this

"What the hell is wrong with you dad?" You spit at your father. "Bucky was hoping he could come over to the house one fucking time and have a civil conversation, and you had to ruin it!"

"I don't like that boy." He responded, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE? I LIKE HIM! HE MAKES ME HAPPY!" You retort angrily, quickly glancing out the window. You watched the dust continue to settle where Bucky had driven away.

"Hello, sir." Bucky greets your father, straightening himself the moment he saw the older man as walks into the house.

"Barnes..."

At that moment, you walk out of the kitchen. "Hiya, dad." You say nervously. He wasn't due home for another thirty minutes. He had caught you in the middle of preparing an enjoyable meal for the three of you.

"What's going on here?" He asked, zeroing in on your boyfriend.

As Bucky struggles for an answer, you step in. "We're making (Favorite Dish)."

"Why?"

"Well sir," Bucky begins. "Y/N thought it'd be a swell idea to throw a dinner and just have a friendly conversation."

Your father walks past the both of you, stepping into the kitchen and taking in the food being prepared. You and Bucky approach him nervously.

"I suppose."

Long story short, the dinner didn't go as you thought it would.

Your dad kept asking embarrassing questions, then bringing something up from Bucky's past. It was hard not to scold your father. Whenever Bucky got irritated or embarrassed by a certain subject, he'd reach for your hand underneath the table and grip it.

This happened a lot.

Bucky left quickly after the food was gone, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before leaving in his dusty old pickup truck Steve's parents lent him before they died.

"You didn't have to be so rude." You whisper once you finally calm down. "You know how Bucky is with his father and the army. Why did you have to bring it up?"

"Because a true man can handle the harsher things in life."

"You're just saying that because you want him to feel weak!"

Growing tired of this never-ending fight, your father shut it down. "Enough! I don't want to hear another word about that Barnes boy. I expect you to end things with him. He's a troublemaker." And that was that.

Or so your father thought.

You and Bucky would always meet up in town, spending the day together before you'd go your separate ways. Your father would get suspicious, but you'd come up with the cleverest lies and convince him otherwise. It wasn't until Bucky's twentieth birthday, several months after the dinner; your father finally connected the dots.

He dragged you over to Steve's apartment where Bucky was staying, hell bent on kicking his ass. You and Steve tried stopping them, but it was useless. Like beating a sumo wrestler with a twig kind of useless. It wasn't until Bucky showed your father an application to join the army. It stopped him from attacking Bucky, but terminating your relationship with him.

It was hard for you to see him after that. He had already finished high-school, and it left you finishing senior year by yourself. Your father was strict with your rules about seeing Bucky, but he let it slide when it was time for him to go.

He had gotten accepted and now it was time for him and his squadron to be shipped out. Your father, out of what little kindness he had left in his heart, allowed you to say goodbye. It was hard letting him go. You broke down in silent tears the moment you took in his sharp uniform.

-

"Hey, doll." He smiled sadly; drinking in the sight of you. He didn't know when it would be the next time he'd see you again.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him, grabbing his shoulders. "Is it for the money? Why? Why are you leaving me?"

Bucky gently removes your hands and holds them against his chest. "Y/N, baby. I ain't doing this for the money." He brings his lips against yours and kisses you sweetly.

"I'm doing this so I can prove to you, and your father that I can make something of myself. That I can be that guy who made a difference. That one guy who isn't labeled a troublemaker or a brainless oaf." He squeezes your hands encouragingly. "By the time I come back, I can prove to everyone here in this small little place, I can be the good guy. I can be the one to take care of you."

"But you don't need to do this!" You tell him, pulling your hands away to wipe your tears. "If anyone can't see how amazing you are, they can go screw themselves. I love you for the sweet man you are. You don't need to join the damn army to prove shit!"

"Y/N..." Bucky watches as you grow quiet. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

"I don't want to lose you out there," you mumble into his chest, most likely staining his uniform with your tears.

"I'll make sure he doesn't die out there," someone beside you says.

"Steve?" You say, lifting your head from Bucky's torso. "You're going with him?"

The short blonde smiles gently, watching as you pull away from Bucky to give him a hug. "Who's better than me to keep him out of trouble?"

"That's my line," Bucky says, drawing you into one last embrace. Your dad watches from afar as you two kiss goodbye.

-

Everything was all right at first. Every Friday, you would receive a letter from Bucky (And Steve!) talking about what had happened in the past week, not forgetting to mention how much he had missed you.

With the occasional joke here and there, he would always express his love for you in simple poetry. Then you would quickly send your own letter, equally expressing the love you shared and reminisced about the memories the two of you had.

For six months, things had gone smoothly. Then the letters slowly stop. For weeks on end, you wouldn't get a single letter. And when you did, it was quick and to the point.

Bucky and Steve had to go somewhere, and they couldn't send as many letters as they wanted to. Buck continued to say he loved you with all his heart, and he couldn't wait to come back home.

Weeks of silence had turned into months. It broke your heart to come home from school on Friday and receive no letters. Prom came around and you ended up going with your cousin, not wanting to ruin your relationship with Bucky just to have a romantic prom night. Graduation follows shortly after, and it saddens you to think you can't celebrate with James.

It's horrible. But then it happens.

Around the third week of college, almost three years after Bucky left, you came home to your father speaking with someone on your front porch. The soldier quickly spotted you approaching and ceased his conversation.

"Y/N?" The stranger questioned.

"Yes?"

"It's me!" The man carefully takes off his service cap and tucks it underneath his arm. "It's Steve!"

Warily glancing at the tall blonde, you think of ways to yell at him for being an asshole until you look into his eyes. The same blue beauties that belonged to your best friend.

"STEVE!" You're quick to engulf him in a hug but quickly retract. Blood roars in your ears as you become excited. If Steve was here, that meant Bucky was too.

"Where's James? I know he's hiding around here somewhere. If this is a ruse to scare me, I'll kick your ass, Rogers."

After looking around, you finally look to Steve, who at the moment doesn't look so excited. "Steve...?" Then you think of every horrible way a person could die in a war. None ease your worried mind as you ask your friend a single question.

"Is Bucky... Dead, Steve?" The gentle giant shakes his head but doesn't lose the solemn expression.

"No."

Your worry turns into confusion. "So where the hell is he?"

Your father, who you had forgotten about at the moment, spoke up. "We think it'd be easier to just show you..."

-

You stare through a large window. On one side, you stand with Steve and your father. On the other, a nurse hovers over a limp body lying in the hospital bed. She checks the respiratory ventilator and the tubes that go along with it. Once she finds everything in its place, she adjusts his IV line and leaves.

Walking out of the door, she catches your eye and gives you a sad look. It lasts only a moment until she leaves, but you know what just happened. She's seen this before. And it rarely ends well.

"How long has it been?" You ask quietly, returning your gaze to Bucky's figure.

"About a week." Steve replies, observing you. Your body tenses up as you close your eyes.

"What. Happened. To. Him?"

He explains how he and Bucky were traveling through Germany to pick up their mark holding government secrets when the train they were riding was shot at. Bucky had fallen out as he and the rest of the men started shooting back.

"It was a long fall." Steve choked out, letting out a few tears himself. "When the gunfire had stopped, we went looking for him. He lost a lot of blood when we found him."

Your shoulders steadily rise up and down as you attempt to stifle your cries. Your dad sees this and goes to comfort you. Just as his hand reaches your arm, you snap.

"YOU DID THIS! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN!"

Both of the men look shocked as you yell. Hospital staff glances at the three of you but don't make a move to stop it. They've all witnessed it before.

You bring your hands down on your father's chest, weakly beating him. "HE WOULDN'T HAVE LEFT IF YOU HADN'T PUSHED HIM TO DO IT!" Steve has to pull you away, but you don't put up a fight. The moment he grabs you, all the fight leaves.

"I'll take them home, Mr. L/N," Steve promises, pulling you into Bucky's room. Your father soon leaves, taking a quick glance at you before scurrying over to Buck before leaving. Maybe it was his fault.  

You don't notice him leave. Your only concern was Bucky.

You note the thin, straw-like tubes sticking out of his nose connecting and watch as his chest slowly moves up and down. You note the differences from when you last saw Buck.

His hair was longer and much stringier than before. He wore a trimmed five o'clock shadow that suited him nicely. He had a few light scars across his cheeks, but none that ruined his look. Gently running your fingers through his hair, your arm brushes against the left side of his body.

Something feels off. "What else happened to him?" You whimper.

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose and approaches his friend. His arm brushes against yours as he reaches for the edge of the blanket. He hesitates for a moment, before pulling the thin material back.

The lights shine off it for a second, blinding you momentarily. "What the...?" The metal prosthesis replacing his arm glints underneath the weak lighting. A red star painted on his shoulder. It matches its peer perfectly.

"He lost it in the fall."

The tears fall like rain as you reach out for Bucky. Steve rubs your back, but it doesn't calm you down much. Only James could help you relax. Finding your tears had somewhat subsided, you grab your boyfriend's flesh hand and squeeze it tight.

"Do they know when he'll wake up?" You croak, your voice scratchy from all your crying.

"Doctors say because of the blood he lost and the stress they put him through, it'll be four weeks at the most." You glance at Steve, showing him your red eyes before focusing on Bucky.

"I'll wait for you."

-

Turns out, you didn't have to wait long. Around a week after receiving word that Buck was in the hospital, he woke up. And you were right beside him when it happened.

The doctors allowed you to stay the past few nights while he recovered. Steve visited every morning and evening to bring fresh clothes and make sure you ate properly. The nurses greeted you in the afternoon as they changed the bedpan and checked his vitals.

While waiting for him to stir, you would talk about what happened. You knew things had changed with both Steve and Bucky.

They differed from the reckless young adults you originally knew them as. Steve was obviously bigger and taller than before, and Buck was more physically defined.

"They gave me a series of experimental drugs," Steve told you on the third day. "One doctor there took a liking to me and convinced the commander to 'work' on me. He gave me this special cocktail that he made from an assortment of chemicals and it changed me."

"What about Buck? Wouldn't you guys have given him a regular prosthetic? Why a metal one?" Steve watched as you played with Bucky's metal fingers, rubbing the cool knuckles as you watched him sleep.

"It wasn't actually us who found him first." He explained. "The Russians got him, patched him up. Hence the red star. We got him back by trading a prisoner we caught that was involved in one of our previous assignments."

You couldn’t imagine the pain he must have gone through. All alone with the enemy, spending his days behind enemy lines getting tortured. At least he was home, safe from the danger.

“It’s ok now,” you whispered, gently pressing a kiss to the prosthetic palm. “You’re gonna be ok.”

-

When he finally awoke, you weren't exactly prepared. Neither was he.

Bucky woke up gasping, unable to breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire! He had been having a nightmare; he was falling from a great height. When he landed, these people found him and started experimenting on him.

They poked and prodded at him with knives and such. So much pain, so much screaming.

Falling back onto the bed, he drank in his surroundings. The smell of lemon disinfectant, the sight of colorless food, the feel of a paper gown. Bucky knew exactly where he was. Just to make sure, he glanced at his arm. The metal limb proved his theory.

"It's not a dream..." He muttered, closing his eyes. As he started reaching for the assist button, he finally noticed you, sleeping in a chair resting in the corner. "Hey, there doll." He called out softly.  

You stir, but don't make an intention to get up. "Get up doll." He says louder. This time, you open an eyelid. At first, you don't react. You calmly close your eyelid before you quickly reopen both your eyes.

"BUCKY!" You shout happily, jumping up from the chair. The soldier braces himself for impact.

Your arms are quick to wrap around his neck as you pepper his face with kisses. He stops the attack by grabbing your hands in his own and squeezing them gently.

You're slightly surprised he can move his prosthetic arm like his original, but you don't think about it too much. "Calm down. I'm right here. I'm with you." The shock turns into happiness as you cry.

"You're here, you're actually here!"

"I am," Bucky responds, softly running his thumbs across the back of your hands. He removes one to cup your cheek. "You got more beautiful than the last time I saw you." His grin somehow stretches wider as you blush. "How the hell did you do that?"

"You're imagining shit, Barnes."

Bucky's large brown eyes take in your worn face, and he worries. Then he calmly slides over in his bed, mindful of all the wires and tubing, and pats the cleared area.

"Lay down with me, darling?" Bucky asks politely.

The way he asks and the sudden urge to sleep overcomes you, you can't say no. He lets go of you, allowing you to climb in next to him. His arms are quick to ensnare you once more, pulling you into this warm sanctuary.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. Then we can talk."

"You sure?"

The long-haired brunette smiles down at you gently, softly kissing your forehead. "I promise. I ain't leaving again for a long time."

-

The hospital was reluctant on letting Bucky go after a week of him waking up. Both of you had a sneaking suspicion they wanted to check out his new arm, but you luckily got him out of there.

Against the wishes of your father, you had started seeing Bucky again. It differed from before, I should add. He wasn't the same solo rebel you had grown to love.

He was more self-conscious about his figure now, always wearing jackets even when it was warm out. But his caring attitude stayed the same. Buck still loved you with all his heart. Your father still had a hard time accepting this.

You had moved out of the house a couple months after Bucky woke up, and the two of you bought an apartment together. To celebrate, your father had invited you over to have a nice dinner. After being convinced by Bucky, you had accepted.

The dinner started off smoothly. Then you excused yourself to go to the restroom. After washing your hands, you reached for a towel, only to find there was nothing. Not wanting to ruin your new shirt, you carefully leave the bathroom to grab a dish towel from the kitchen. To get over there, you needed to pass through the dining room.

As you approach, you suddenly hear your father speaking in a hushed tone.

"The game's up, Barnes. You're back home now. You don't have to put on a show anymore."

"It's not a show, sir," your boyfriend replied truthfully. "I love them."

"So why are you here then?" Your father demands. "If you love them so much, what are you trying to prove? Why do you need to seem like you're this perfect boyfriend?"

"Because I left them!" Bucky seemed to shout in a hushed voice. His voice drops to a harmless whisper: it's so soft you have to strain your ears just to hear.

"I left them all alone. I made Y/N suffer through hell and back because of a decision I made. I left so I could seem like a better man to you, but apparently it didn't!" He exclaimed quietly, not wanting you to hear.

"But thank God Y/N was still here for me. I honestly thought they would get fed up after waiting years for me, but they didn't; unlike you, they had faith that I was coming back to them, dead or alive. So now I'm done trying to please you, to stand up to your ridiculous standards. I thought me appreciating your child would be enough for you, making them happy, was enough, but apparently not."

His speech immediately gets you all riled up; there's an urge to yell in your dad's face. You hear a fork clinking against a plate before your father clears his throat. The action makes you wait.

"So you'd do anything to keep my little (Nickname) safe?" He asks Bucky seriously, clasping his hands together. Unbeknownst to you, Bucky was staring your father straight in the eye, clenching his own hands.

"Sir, I don't think you understood me at all." He looks to the direction of the bathroom before looking back at your dad. "I'd die if that's what Y/N wanted me to do. If it made them happy, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

There's silence until it's broken.

"Then I guess you can continue the relationship with my blessing."

It's then where you make yourself known. "Hi, guys!" You say cheerfully, pretending you hadn't eavesdropped on their conversation.

"What'd I miss?" You continue taking your seat next to Bucky. He smiles as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He quickly presses a kiss against your lips before looking to your dad.

They share a look. "Nothing much, darling."

You never ask about the conversation, figuring it was none of your business. But honestly, it didn't matter. Your father finally accepted Bucky, Bucky loved you, and you were all happy.

It didn't matter what other people thought about the two of you anymore. Bucky was safe at home with you. That's the way it was meant to be.

Katryn you had to know this was coming at some point I assume BUT you know we need THAT pledging fealty scene with Tovar 👀👀

I love you for this. Oh boy. Here we go. I'm saving my favorites for the last few days of the prompt week. ICONIC. I loved this scene so much I’ve worked it into Footprints...don’t look at me. This is like 2100 words...IT GOT AWAY FROM ME. @thewaythisis gif credit

Pairing: Tovar x Reader Warnings: mild domestic abuse, language, SMUUUUUT, for those of you who haven't seen Outlander I will try to give you enough context that you're not looking at this like 'WTF KATRYN???' [Completed Prompts] [Tovar Prompt Info]

You hadn't spoken to him in days. Riding in silence with the rest of the company while they moved between tiny towns and worn down villages. A week ago you had tried to escape, back to your own time, back to the fae circle of stones that lay beyond the mountain range in the middle of the desert. Only his majesty’s royal guard had gotten in your way, taken you prisoner, and William and his men had to risk a lot to get you back. You had been so close.

It was easy to see why the rest of the company was mad at you, going silent when you tried to join their circle at meal times, talking in hushed tones as you walked passed. That you could accept. What you couldn’t accept was what happened afterwards.

“Come on,” Tovar said in a gruff tone that he rarely used with you any more. He grabbed your upper arm tightly and turned you towards the stairs of the inn.

“What is it?” you asked, suddenly concerned as the rest of the men watched him march you to the bedroom you shared. He let go of you as soon as the door bolted behind him.

“Now, I take no pleasure in this, hermosa, but it is my duty as your husband,” he said, careful to keep his eyes off of you as he slid his belt off of his waist slowly. The worn leather folded in half easily and he nodded to your legs. “Lift your dress, and let’s get on with it.”

“Wait,” you said, eyes going wide as your heart began to race, You moved to the other side of the bed, putting the large piece of furniture between you and him. “Wait a minute--Pero, I said I was ‘sorry’--”

“I know you did. But that doesn’t matter much. You put all of us in danger and now none of William’s men trust you--”

“Well, that’s not my fault--”

“Hermosa…”

“You think I wanted to get captured?? To put you all in danger to come rescue me??”

“If you would just listen to me, we wouldn’t be in this!” He finally lost a bit of his composure and clenched his fists. “But you never listen! And why should you? You’re just my wife--”

“Your wife? You mean your property!” you spat back at him and moved a few more steps back. “I’m just a woman, is that it? And it doesn’t care what I think as long as I realize that you own me?”

“Do not speak to me that way--”

“You’re a brute! And a fucking sadist--”

“If any of William’s crew did something like that, he would take him out in the courtyard and black his eye, making sure they knew not to do it again. It’s a bit different with you, but maybe you’ll remember every time you sit down--”

“You are not going to put your hands on me, Pero Tovar,” you grit your teeth and pointed at him, moving a step back as he started towards you.

“It’ll be over quick--”

“I’ll scream--”

“Considering you never stop talking, that doesn’t surprise me--”

True to his word, it was over much faster than you thought it would be--but you didn’t make it easy for him. You may have left the room the next morning with a bruised ass and ego, but Tovar left it with a split lip. However, just like he had predicted, the rest of the men’s attitude towards you had changed back to what it used to be. As you wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and came down to breakfast, one of them handed you a bowl of porridge and a hot cup of tea.

“Here, m’lady, have a seat with us.” He offered kindly and you felt your face grow hot.

“I’ll stand, thank you,” you said, feeling your backside sting at the thought of sitting on the wooden stool. A roar of laughter came from the rest of them and you took your breakfast back to your room.  

--

Days later, you sat in your room by the fire, looking into the flames and realizing that although the pain was gone and the bruises faded, you hated Pero Tovar for his actions. And what hurt most of all was that you weren’t sure if you could ever forgive him.

That night you all had some to a halt under the stars and after a quiet meal around the campfire, you retired to your tent alone. When you heard Tovar’s boots approaching, you turned over in your bedroll and pretended to be asleep.

Pero took his time, taking off each piece of his armor and pouring a little water from his canteen into his hand to wash his face. He paused and looked at you and finally let out a heavy sigh. “I know you’re awake, hermosa.”

You didn’t answer him.

“Is this how it’s going to be then?” he asked and you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling like a child. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s new.” Your tone was bitter, angry, and you could see from his shadow on the canvas wall that it made him flinch.

He swallowed hard and rubbed his jaw, ignoring your jab at his intelligence. “Wives obey their husbands.” His voice was calm, speaking slow and plainly like he wanted each word to be understood. “And it’s a husband’s duty to discipline them when they don’t--it was like that for my father and his father and his father before that--” He sat on the edge of the bedroll and looked at you, waiting for you to turn and look over your shoulder at him. “Maybe it has to be different for us?”

You sat up slowly, letting the blanket slip down your shoulders as he leaned over and took the dagger out of the sheath on his armor. He turned to you and held it carefully by the blade, offering you the handle with his head bowed. His intention was unclear, but he moved to one knee as if he was waiting for you to knight him.

“I swear by my dagger,” he took a shaky breath and held it tightly, looking at your lap. “You may think I have no honor as a mercenary, but I swear on all that I have, hermosa, that I will never lay a hand on you again. I give you my loyalty and protection, my trust and my devotion, and if I ever go back on my promise I hope that the blade I hold finds its way through my chest.”

You took the dagger from him gently and looked at it, turning it slowly in your hand before looking back at him. When you were silent for a few moments, he looked up, his face carefully made of stone, but his eyes were worried.

“Do you not want me anymore, corazón?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you wish to live apart?”

“That should be what I want…” you said, tone matching his in the dark of the tent. “But it’s not.” You reached forward and cupped his face, rubbing your thumb along his bearded jaw. At your touch he let out a shaky breath and turned his head in your hand to kiss your palm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed quietly. He kissed his way up your wrist, then your arm, whispering his apologies and sweet nothings across your skin as he made his way to your lips and crawled onto the furs with you. “I want you. I want you so badly I can barely breathe,” he admitted and you felt yourself break out in goosebumps. “Will you have me? Will you have me, mi corazón?”

“Yes,” you whispered against his mouth as you pushed his shirt from his shoulders. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

He pulled your shift over your head in one fluid motion. His rough hands gripped at your soft body as he kicked off his trousers and tried to lay you back but you put your hands firmly on his chest. He allowed you to push him onto his back and climb on top of him. You kissed him hard, tongue tasting and teeth biting as you felt him start to harden under you, raising to your knees so he could reach between your bodies and line himself up.

As much as you were reluctant to admit it, you truly had missed him these last few days. Having him inside of you once again was a comfort to both of you that you hadn’t realized had become so important. Falling through time felt like eons ago, instead of the few short weeks it had been, but having Tovar in your arms felt like you had waited for one another for millennia.  

He groaned as he bottomed out inside of you and threw your head back in ecstasy. His fingers dug into your hips as you started to rock against him and you looked down. The dagger had fallen off to the side and you leaned over grabbing it by the handle only to shove it up against his throat. You didn’t press, it wasn’t harming him in any way, but the cold steel made him pause his thrusts and look up at you with wide eyes.

“Hermosa?” he asked, swallowing hard and eyeing the blade before looking up at you in awe.

“Listen to me carefully, Pero Tovar,” you said, using his full name as you started to gently roll your hips against him. You panted as your heart raced and the nails of your free hand dug into his chest. “If you ever put a hand on me again, this dagger won’t pierce your chest on it’s own--I’ll cut your heart out myself. Do you understand?”

He let out a heavy breath as he thrust up inside of you and nodded.

“I didn’t hear that,” you said, moving the blade just enough to make him hiss.

“Yes,” he looked up at you and his eyes were ablaze with more passion than you think you had ever seen from him. “Yes I understand.” He growled as you tossed the dagger to the side and allowed him to roll you onto your back and thrust hard against you. “You’re still mine, hermosa?” he said, as he leaned down to kiss and bite at your neck.

“Yes…” You put your hands in his hair and gripped it. The feeling of his cock hitting the end of you was enough to make you arch against him with a groan. When he leaned down to take as much of your breast into his mouth as he could and suck firmly at your nipple, you whispered lovingly against the shell of his ear. “And you are mine.”

--

Tovar’s arm tightened around you gently and you hummed happily as he nibbled the spot under your ear. His breath was warm against your skin and you pressed yourself back tightly against him, seeking the warmth of his body in the chilly night air.

“What’s a sadist?” he asked quietly.

“What?” you laughed and looked over your shoulder at him.

“You called me a ‘fucking sadist’?” he said with a grin and rested his chin on your arm.

“Oh,” you giggled and laid your head back on the pillow. “It means someone who gains sexual pleasure from harming others.”

“You don’t think very highly of me, do you?” he chuckled, releasing his grip enough so you could turn in his arms. “Can’t say I blame you. I was a bit of a brute.”

You touched his face gently, tracing his jaw, then down along his bottom lip and finally to the dimple of his chin. He closed his eyes gently and pulled you closer. You paused your ministrations when you noticed a rather large mark on where his neck met his shoulders--you’d left a pretty prominent hickey on his tanned skin.

“Was I too rough?” you asked and he ginned, already knowing without looking what you were talking about.

“No,” he huffed. “When you bed a vixen, you expect to be bitten.”

“A vixen?” you asked with a laugh as he leaned in and nosed your chin up so he could nip at your own neck. “Pero!”

“Come here and bite me some more,” he said, delighting in the way the feel of his mustache made you continue to laugh. For the rest of his days, or as long as you would let him, he vowed to only make the sweetest of sounds come from your lips.

--