#also ignore the header it’s temporary

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 5

Astarion x gn!reader (NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You and Astarion come across the camp, and its discovery adds a complication to the mix. The two of you share an intimate night together.

Warnings: 18+ - Blood drinking, mentions of past abuse. Explicit sexual content. Penetrative sex, fingering, first time sex.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: As you can see, this chapter is an eventful one. I hope you'll all enjoy! This story is going to get wild, and we're going to start seeing some new (and perhaps familiar) faces 👀 Also, thank you so much to @aerynwrites for making the amazing header image and for looking over this chapter! I appreciate you so much ♥

The thick, awkward silence in the air follows you all the way to the stream - tailing along with you like it’s your shadow.

You’ve never been more grateful to see a body of water in your entire life, and it’s not due to the thirst slowly building in your mouth, or the grime on your skin itching to be cleaned off. It’s because you’re dying to do something that isn’t walking, dying to curb the silence, and dying to think of anything that isn’t Cazador.

How long have the two of you been traveling, now? How long since you’d come across Gandrel? The trees have been too dense to tell the time with any accuracy, but there’s a break of them over the water, and the sun is mid-sky when you glance at its position. 

Hours, maybe. 

Hours of thinking up a thousand different conversation topics. Trying to find something to fill the deadening quiet. None of them seemed appropriate, though; not in the aftermath of finding out that an evil vampire had enslaved Astarion for two centuries and is now relentlessly hunting him. What could you possibly say after that? 

Nothing, you’d eventually decided. You’d say nothing. But that hadn’t made any of it any better. 

The camp shouldn’t be far, now. But that can wait.

You sink to your knees on the bank, taking a handful of the mercifully cool water and splashing it over your face. It’s sweet when you bring it to your lips, blissful on your burning-hot skin, and you can’t help letting out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t wait to get out of these woods,” you say softly, more for yourself.

“They were your idea, my sweet,” Astarion replies, somewhere behind you. 

“Freedom was my idea,” you combat defensively. “The woods just happened to be a temporary part of that.”

“If you’re planning to run from my mother, then it certainly won’t be temporary,” Astarion says. “I’d become very, very friendly with the woods if I were you.”

You drop your hands, shaking away the remaining water as you try - and fail - to bite away your frustration. “Why can’t she leave me alone? All I want is to go back to my home.”

“And I want to wake every morning with a virgin at my side,” he snipes, every word laced with melodramatic condescension, “but life doesn’t give us what we want.” 

This time, your anger cuts through your chest like a knife as you shift to face him. “Well!” you exclaim. “Congratulations then, Astarion, because you do!”

He freezes, a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve made a grave error. “Do I, now?” he purrs. “Interesting.”

You ignore him, turning back to the stream, but your cheeks go hot. “Well?” you finally say. “Are you going to get cleaned up or not?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t respond.

You glance at him and find him staring at the water like it’s a poisonous bog. “Oh, come now, Your Highness. Don’t tell me the stream isn’t good enough for you?”

He scowls at you, but his gaze is quick to flit back to the stream as he speaks. “Running water used to burn like acid, dearest. I’ve never tested if it still does.”

Your mouth snaps shut. No more teasing him, you resolve. It’s only making you look like a complete ass. “Oh,” you finally say.

Astarion sinks down into a squat, hesitantly dipping his fingers into the water and giving a hum. “Well. I suppose that answers that question,” he says, shifting onto his knees.

He’s just as dirty as you feel. Gandrel’s blood is splattered all over him, and the grime of the woods has etched streaks of dirt onto his skin. Somehow, despite all of that, he’s still as beautiful as always. Maybe even more so, like this.

You feel a strange sense of disappointment when he starts rinsing the mess away.

It’s blazing hot out. It was easier to ignore earlier when you were under the shade, but the light is in full effect over the stream, and it’s unavoidable, now. You’re covered in sweat and dirt and the gods know what else. The itch to get clean is maddening.

At first, you try splashing water onto your skin and your filthy shirt, but all it ends up doing is drenching yourself - not cleaning anything at all. You’re left dirty, wet, and frustrated, and, well. Who knows when the next bathing spot will be. You’re already soaked…

You peel off your shoes and socks, get to your feet and take two steps back, then jump in.

The water is freezing cold, but it’s wonderful - euphoric under the pounding sun. It washes away the dirt and blood and sweat with ease, carrying them away as you kick around. The mild current feels like silk over your limbs. For a moment, you even float around on your back, enjoying the peaceful murmur of the water.

Then you remember that you aren’t alone, and you go upright. Astarion is watching you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, distracted from his task. As soon as he sees you looking, he instantly goes back to trying to clean the stains out of his shirt - which is going about as well for him as it had been for you.

You watch his struggle for a moment before a string of words leave your lips. Words that wouldn’t have come out if you’d taken the time to think about it. 

“You should join me!”

He glances at the water. It’s completely clear and a beautiful blue, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. “Darling,” he says, letting out a haughty laugh, “you want me to jump in there? Only the gods know what’s in that water.”

“You’re using it to clean your shirt,” you point out, “which isn’t going very well, Your Highness. It’ll be the closest thing to a bath for miles.”

He simply scowls in response, and you shake your head.

“Alright,” you relent. “Stay up there in the heat, then, covered in blood and dirt. Just don’t start complaining to me when you start to feel dirty.”

His scowl deepens, but he gives up on the shirt and shifts until he’s sitting on the edge of the bank. “Fine,” he says sharply. He looks down and hesitates, tilting his head. Is he wondering how deep it is? If water used to burn, then he probably hasn’t gone swimming in…

Two centuries. 

You let yourself stand, your toes sinking into the mud. The water isn’t much higher than your rib cage, and the crease between Astarion’s brows fades away. Following in your lead, he takes off his boots and socks, then lets himself slide into the water. He grimaces for a moment at the temperature, sinks under the surface, and comes up sopping, wiping water out of his eyes.

You almost feel bad, looking at that silvery mop of curls, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply pushes the mass of wet hair out of his face, then resumes his process of cleaning the blood out of his shirt. Or, trying to. It seems thoroughly fixed into the cream fabric.

For some reason, your attention on him feels like an invasion of a private moment, so you take to making sure you’re cleaned off, averting your gaze - especially when he takes off his shirt to scrub away the stains. The brief flash of porcelain skin you catch has your cheeks blooming with heat; it’s the most you’ve ever seen of him.

To distract yourself, you speak. “I’m surprised you actually got in.”

“Well,” he says. “Unfortunately, my warm baths have been conveniently misplaced. This will have to suffice.”

“Of course,” you mutter, paddling absentmindedly through the water. “For a moment there, I thought you might like something that’s remotely fun. My mistake.”

You’re still turned away, which is why the splash of water that hits you catches you by surprise. “Oh, you bastard,” you gasp, instantly sending another splash back at him.

He pauses, flashing you a wicked grin, and then you’re hit with another one, and another, and another. You’re splashing him back as much as you can and trying to swim away from the splash zone, and he’s splashing you, and you’re both breathless and calling taunts into the air. The sun is in your eyes, and water is in your lungs, and for a brief, blissful moment, it’s like all your worries have slipped away.

When the two of you are finally worn out, muscles aching, you push your way to the shore and lay on the grass, trying to catch your breath as your eyes flutter shut. The sun is golden and warm overhead, and with your now-drenched clothes, it feels wonderful. 

A moment after you’ve gotten out, Astarion joins you. You hear the light thump of his wet shirt landing on the grass next to you, and then he’s sighing. “Gods - it’s hopeless,” he mutters. “Hopefully one of those Zhentarim knew something about fashion.”

 His footsteps head back to his pack, but the feeling of warm sun on your skin is relaxing enough to keep you where you are as he digs around. When he stalls, you finally sit up, coughing some of the leftover water out of your lungs. Another joke is poised on your lips, but when you catch sight of his back, the words turn to ash on your tongue.

The soft pink lines seem like an intricate tattoo at first, but as your eyes continue to take it in, you realize that the skin is raised - far too much to ever be a tattoo. Scars. They’re scars.

You only see them for that brief moment before Astarion has found a new shirt and pulled it over himself, blocking out the sight of them, but even after they’re gone, the markings burn under your eyelids.

He turns to face you, and when he sees your face, the lightheartedness in his eyes immediately fades to something sharper. He knows you’ve seen.

“Your back,” you say softly. “It must have been painful.”

He looks away. “A gift from Cazador,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft. “A poem. He spent the night carving it into me.” He pauses, and pain flashes over his eyes. “He made a lot of adjustments as he went.”

You briefly think to yourself that - evil, powerful vampire or not - if you ever come face-to-face with Cazador Szarr, you’ll tear him to shreds with your bare hands.

Gods. You want to say that you’re sorry, but you already know Astarion won’t take it well. He clearly despises pity, and you’re not going to give it to him. 

Instead, you get to your feet, ignoring the way your drenched clothes now stick to you, and head to your pack. “Why didn’t your mother kill him?”

He scoffs. “Believe me, she tried. Unfortunately, killing a vampire isn’t exactly easy. Rescuing me was the main priority, and, honestly? It was a miracle she even managed that.”

You nod, picking at a loose string on your sleeve. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Baldur’s Gate, no doubt,” he replies stiffly. “In his ridiculous palace. He’s a Lord, you know.”

Ridiculous palace. It’s an ironic thing for him to say, but then you recall that Astarion probably doesn’t enjoy Erelin’s palace, either. Then, very much delayed, the reality of his words sinks in. “Hold on. You mean to say that there’s an evil vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate, and no one knows?”

“Oh, some do; they just don’t care,” he says, tilting his head. “You see - it’s all about power. He has a fair amount, and people will do anything to get even a taste of it. You should see his servants. They come to the door, begging for his eternal gift, and they’re stupid enough to think he’ll give it to them if they work hard enough.”

The concept of that is sickening. You fear nothing more than being thrown back into your personal prison, and here people are, volunteering to be in one - and one that’s far, far worse than yours, at that. All for what? Immortality? It doesn’t even remotely appeal to you. 

From the look on his face, Astarion feels the same way. 

Gods. You can’t even imagine what he’s experienced; not even half of it. Everything you’ve been through pales in drastic comparison to his two centuries of torture. Shame sweeps deep through your gut, dark and oozing, and it’s all you can do to not despise yourself. 

Still - he complains about the petty things more than you do. And he hadn’t faulted you for wanting to run. He’d just told you not to bother, because you’d be caught.

“I don’t understand them,” you remark quietly, gathering up your things. “I can’t… imagine wanting something so much I’d give up my freedom for it.”

He shakes his head, and something reproachful paints itself into his expression. “Power is addictive, dearest. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder once more, and Astarion follows in your lead. “Well,” you say, “I suppose we’d better see what that camp is all about.”

You smell the camp before you see it.

The smoke you’d seen yesterday has faded in the air, but the smell of it is present: a distant, hazy odor that lingers in the forest. You and Astarion squat down to be safe, observing from behind the treeline, and it becomes immediately clear what it is.

Banners of silver and blue - those are Calthirian colors. This is your kingdom. What’s left of it, at least. 

You’d been right. This rebellion is a prominent force, from the looks of it. No wonder Erelin had married you off instead of fighting. Still, it makes you wary to go waltzing straight into the place, expecting everything to turn out right. A level of paranoia lays over your skin like sweat, making it hard to think clearly. What if someone recognizes you? Do they know what you look like?

“Well,” Astarion remarks, “I suppose we’ve received our answer. And now that we have, we should be on our merry way.”

“Unfortunately,” you murmur in agreement. “You don’t think they’d give us directions to the nearest village?” It’s a long shot, and mostly a joke, but having traveled all this way to leave no better off is a sinking disappointment. 

“They’d sooner recruit us,” Astarion answers. “Or kill us.”

You stare for a moment longer, then shake your head. “All right - new plan, then. We get the hells away from here. I’ll scale another tree and see if I can see anything.”

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t seem to have any better ideas. He follows silently as you creep through the woods, watching out for any nearby scouts. 

You don’t like this place. It feels ominous, in a way. 

Your breathing doesn’t return to normal until you’re a decent amount away, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve narrowly avoided something awful. Astarion stays on the ground while you climb another tree, and this time, the forest provides something very useful to you. 

A city. Your city.

Baldur’s Gate, in all her glory, lies in the distance. It’ll take days, maybe even a week, to get there - but gods, is the sight of her a relief. Warm beds. Familiar faces. These days, there’s not many people you trust, but the ones you do are all in Baldur’s Gate. If you’re ever going to find any true escape, it’s there.

And, you think, your stomach sinking, there’ll be Ancunín outposts for Astarion to get back to his mother. 

Astarion is pacing along the base of the tree when you hop down again, and his eyes brighten when he looks at you. “Gods. You saw something, didn’t you?”

“Baldur’s Gate,” you tell him, unable to mask the smile that spreads over your lips. “It’s a few days away, but it’s there.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t take much more of this.”

But you know what he’s really saying. He’ll finally get back to safety.

The two of you will have to have a talk sooner or later. You aren’t sure if he’s expecting you to return with him, and you’re not keen on arguing with him. You don’t want to leave him, but if it comes down to it - you can’t go back to Erelin. 

Can’t, not won’t. It’s not even a choice. Every part of you rejects the suggestion like an unsuccessful transplant; every inch of you viscerally objects to returning to that palace. You’d bring him with you if you could, but you know that he’d never feel safe. Not while Cazador is out there, hunting for him.

The realization sombers the air as the two of you continue, skirting your way around the camp and in the direction of the city. You do a bit more hunting, and so does Astarion. Your food cooks in silence as the sun starts to set, and he seems to be lost in thought - just like you are.

When the crunch of a nearby branch sounds, the two of you leap two your feet without a second thought, reaching for your weapons. When you see who it is, your knife tumbles out of your hand.

“Cal?”

He looks more worn down than you’ve ever seen him, but it’s undeniably him. Chestnut hair. Grey eyes. A full, trim beard. He’s dressed in Calthirian colors, and his eyes widen in recognition as he stares at you, looking like he can’t believe you’re real. 

“By the gods, is that really you?” he asks. “How? When? Last I heard, you’d returned to the queen’s palace - we’ve been trying to find a way to get you out, but - well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here! You’re really here!”

He glances behind you, and when he sees Astarion, he pauses. His eyes trail over the wedding rings you both wear, and the blood drains out of his face. “Oh no,” he says softly, taking a step back. His expression hardens, and his hand flits toward the sword at his belt. “No, no, no. Tell me that is not who I think it is.”

“Oh, him?” you say quickly. “This is Lirien. He helped me escape.”

“Of course it is,” Cal replies flatly. “Instead of Astarion Ancunín.” He shakes his head. “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? I raised you! Gods - why? Why in the hells would you bring him? Do you have any idea what people will do when they find out?”

Astarion scowls. “I can hear you, you know,” he says.

Cal ignores him. “What am I going to tell them?” he mutters to himself, pacing, looking like he might topple over. “What am I going to do?”

“Nothing,” you say adamantly. “Cal? They’re not going to hear about it. Not about me, and not about him. Alright? We’re leaving.”

But Cal, instead of softening for you like he usually does, simply clenches his jaw. “You can’t be serious. This camp has been searching for a way to get you out for the last month,” he says. “We’ve lost… hundreds of men. They’re planning to mount a rescue mission for you, two days from now! Of course I’m going to tell them you’re here!”

“Well, I got myself out before they did,” you tell him, even though that isn’t really true. “And now, I’m going.”

Cal stares at you, incredulous. “What the hells did they do to you?” he asks. “Brainwashing? Torture?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then steps closer. “I won’t hide you. You were born to rule, understand? I raised you better than this.”

He mutters something under his breath before you can respond, and your and Astarion’s weapons fly toward him, falling neatly at his feet. You start forward, but Cal has snatched them up before you can make a grab for them. You have another knife in your bag, but - gods, do you really have it in you to kill him? Even now?

Before you can decide, he’s reciting another incantation. Warmth blooms on your skin, and something electric fills the air, hazing the air and tickling the inside of your lungs.

“What was that?” you ask, flinching at the sensation. “What did you do?”

“A tracking spell - over the both of you. It’ll tell us where you are even if you run. Don’t go trying anything. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

This side of him is something you don’t know, not even a little, and it breaks you. Betrayal cuts through you like a knife, etching permanently into a sharp, painful spot between your ribs. Something sours on your tongue. 

You’re a pawn. You always have been, even to him. Erelin had been bad enough, but this? Cal cares more about your position than he does you. It hurts so much that you think something in you might actually rip apart and spill out of your gut, seeping into the grass below. 

You have to swallow down the nausea to speak, but the slime of this situation coats your throat and your words when you talk. “Wait until tomorrow,” you request. “Give me one more night away from them. Please.”

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a choice in that. Aris won’t be back until morning anyhow. Come on, you two - I’ll get you situated.”

He starts off toward the camp, but neither you nor Astarion follow after him. Your mind is flying over thoughts at a thousand miles per minute, trying to think of what to do. Gods, what in the hells are you going to do? 

“If I have to get the guards to drag you, I will,” Cal calls. “You’ll spend the night in chains. Come willingly, and you’ll get a tent. It’s your choice.”

You start walking. Your hands are shaking like a leaf. You look to Astarion, whose expression has tightened, who looks even more pale than usual. He’s scared, and you are, too. You have no idea what the hells these people want from you. Cal may have taken your weapons, but there’s still the other knife in your bag. Astarion has his teeth, and there’s two of you… 

Astarion meets your eyes curiously, and his gaze flits over to Cal, raising his brows. His intention is clear, and it's the same thing you’ve been thinking to yourself. After a moment of torturous internal debate, you nod. 

What had you once thought to yourself? That you were willing to do anything for freedom? Gods. Apparently, you are.

You’re just bracing yourself for a fight when the flicker of torches passes through the trees, and you hear the chatter of voices. More men, and from the look of it, they’re all armed. “Cal, is that you?” one calls, lifting his torch higher in the approaching dark so he can see. “New recruits?”

All hope left in you dies at the sight of them. Astarion tenses at your side, his hands clenching into fists. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. They’re going to take you both, and you’re completely fucking helpless to stop it. 

“Yes. Another round,” Cal says casually. It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t want to announce your identity right off the bat, and you can’t decide whether or not you’re grateful for it. 

“Aris will be happy to hear that,” the guard replies. “With the siege, we need everyone we can get. You’re sure they can be trusted?”

Cal glances back at you, smiling grimly. “Positive.”

“Good.”

The two of you are escorted all the way to the camp, and the guards trail away when you reach the outskirts. “This way,” Cal says, leading the two of you to one of the empty tents. “There’s room for both of you, since you seem so fond of each other.”

You stare at the tent, wanting nothing more than to tear through it like a rabid animal.

“Don’t be like that,” Cal implores. “Whatever they did to you, we’ll reverse it. We’ll get you back as you were, hm?” He waits for you to respond, but you don’t. If you do, you think you might actually lose your mind. 

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “Feel free to explore camp, get something to eat, but don’t go past the outer torches. If I wake tomorrow and don’t find you here, the whole of this camp will come after you. Understand?”

You swallow hard, your nails piercing into your palms. “Fuck you, Cal.”

He shakes his head and turns away - but as he moves past you, you catch a flash of movement by his pack. You say nothing, and he’s gone before he’s noticed. You and Astarion are left in front of the tent, alone. 

Well. Here you are.

The tent is larger than you’d expected when you retreat into it, Astarion following after you and sheathing the dagger he’d stolen. There are two bedrolls, some blankets and pillows, and a large amount of space to the side. No amount of blankets and pillows can make any of this better.

Silence falls, sour and agonizing. You want to throw up. You want to drink yourself to death. You want to cry. And you really, really want to punch something.

“So…” Astarion says slowly. “I suppose we’ve met each other’s parents, now.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s bitter. “And what lovely introductions we’ve had.”

His brows pinch in feigned offense. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

You try to smile, but it falls flat. You’re so angry it feels like fire is bursting from your chest. Pressing your face into your hands, you try to breathe, wanting this not to be real - please, gods, don’t be real - but it is. You can smell the torches burning in the distance and feel the soft breeze that’s pressing through the partially-open flap of the tent.

Astarion sighs, then pushes the flap to the side and crawls through.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“To find something to make this situation bearable,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You don’t think he’s foolish enough to fight against the tracking spell with nothing but a dagger, but it doesn’t stop anxiety from fluttering in your gut. 

You can’t stand sitting still, so you leave, too - not following after him, just restless. Drifting.

For a long while, you wander aimlessly around the camp, trailing from place to place with no destination. A person or two gives you an odd look, but you really don’t give a damn. Your problems are much larger than some strangers and their opinions. All of it will turn irrelevant come morning.

Is it fury you feel, seeping so darkly through you? Has your anger turned ice-cold? It’s as if your life has all been an illusion, some kind of cruel trick. Was any of it real? Did Cal ever really care about you, or were you simply a means to an end?

You often try not to think about your parents, but you allow yourself to do so now. Would they approve of this? Would they have wanted this for you, if they were here? Or would you be nothing more than a pawn to them, too?

You don’t know. You’re starting to wonder if there’s anyone who’s ever really cared for you.

The approach of velvet-blue sky brings you wandering back to your assigned tent. It’s different than it had been before - but you can’t recognize quite how. Not until you get inside, at least. 

Astarion has set up a meal: candles and wine and much fancier food than was in your packs or at the ration stations. You stall at the opening, and he nods for you to come in. You take a seat across from him, admiring his work. With the tent closed, it almost feels private. You can almost forget the camp out there, even for just a moment.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He hands you a goblet, and you take it without another thought. “Well, darling,” he says softly, “I thought we should enjoy our last night of freedom. Who knows where we’ll be come morning.”

You press the glass to your lips and drink, finding a dark, heady wine on your tongue. “We didn’t have wine,” you recall to yourself. “Where the hells did you get this?”

“Oh, you know,” Astarion sighs, waving a dismissive hand. “Around.”

This time, it’s a real smile that overtakes you. “Just like that dagger?”

“Of course,” he says, tilting his head. A mirroring smile plays on his lips, and he takes a sip of his wine. “If he didn’t want it taken, he shouldn’t have had it out in the open. Besides,” he adds, rolling a shoulder, “I was only returning it to its rightful owner.”

You shake your head. “I still can’t believe he did that. I never thought he was capable of… anything even similar to that. I thought he - cared. About me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Astarion replies, but there’s a quiet sympathy on his face. “Especially if they intend for you to rule, which they almost certainly do.”

“Of course.” Your throat tightens, and you take another sip of wine. You feel drawn so incredibly tight. It’s like a part of you is waiting to burst.

“So,” Astarion muses, swirling the glass around, “our last night of freedom. Any idea what you want to do with it, my sweet?”

You let out a huff, staring down at your wine. “Aside from blowing this entire gods damned camp up?” You let out a shaky exhale. “No idea.”

“No?” he asks. “No lifelong list? Something you’ve always wanted to try?”

There must be a thousand things you want to do while you still can, but none of them are coming to mind. You’re wound as tight as a rope, fuming, and would give absolutely anything to stop thinking. 

When you shake your head, Astarion leans forward, setting down his glass. “Nothing comes to mind?”

“I - I don’t know. All I can think about is how… angry I am. I don’t know what I want.”

“Then allow me to make a suggestion, darling,” he says, taking the wine out of your hand, neatly setting it on the chest he’s using as a makeshift table. He leans forward, trailing his thumb along your cheek, and something in your stomach jumps. “We’re here, aren’t we? We might as well take the opportunity to distract ourselves.”

“Astarion-”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low and honeyed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve felt those little… trembles of excitement when my teeth are in your neck.” He pauses, tilting his head, and another smile plays on the corners of his lips. “No need to be coy,” he purrs. “Your body has already given you away.”

And you do want it. You want it so badly that you can hardly stand it. “And what about you?”

“What?” he asks, frowning. “What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Gods. Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, “I want you.”

You’re caught between the ever-growing want now steadily coursing through you and - something else. Something you don’t recognize. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he insists, frustration bleeding into his voice as he pulls back to look at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a half-hearted smile. “Well, for one, I’ve never done this before. Remember?”

The frustration bleeds out of his face, and the line that’s been creased between his brows disappears. “Please,” he says incredulously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Haven’t you heard of vampires preferring virgins?” 

Something flutters in your gut at his words, at the heated way he’s taking you in. “Alright, then, vampire,” you say, before your fears can suck you in. “Do what you will with me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, I most certainly will,” he murmurs. 

He leans in, and his lips meet yours, fragrant with honeyed wine, ardent and sweet. Gentle at first, but that quickly becomes a haze of need - his hand tightening on your cheek, your hand tightening on his shirt. 

Gods, you think. Kissing Astarion is like hearing a new melody and knowing that it will never leave your mind. The kiss you’d shared at the wedding has already haunted your mind plenty, but this? This is incomparable. Electric. He coaxes your mouth open with ease, and arousal shoots down your back like a bolt of lightning. When his tongue brushes against yours, every muscle in your body goes slack. 

In the midst of everything, you’re still inexperienced. Your hands don’t know what to do or where to go. One settles on his shoulder, the other keeps itself clutched in his shirt. You can’t tell if it’s right, but if it’s wrong, Astarion doesn’t say.

He places his free hand at your side, using it to stabilize himself as he crawls over you, still kissing you, straddling your legs with his hips. Then that hand is at your waist, and his lips are at your neck, and you’re letting out a soft, wanting noise.

He huffs, kissing up your jaw, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he hums. 

And what the hells are you supposed to say to that? Of course you’re eager. You’ve been wanting him for ages. The building need between your legs says that more than enough. You’re viciously turned on, and the smugness of his voice isn’t helping, but there’s still an awkwardness to the situation. 

You have no idea what you’re doing. You can’t tell if anything you want is remotely right. In between the pleasure and passion, there’s a building anxiety that’s becoming more and more prominent. It’s distracting you from what he’s doing, which is leaving you nothing but frustrated.

“You’re thinking too much. Relax, darling,” Astarion murmurs, pulling away. “Close your eyes for me.”

And you do. You take one last look at him, so impossibly beautiful in the warm candlelight. His curls have dried tousled from the river, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, and there’s a certain amount of expectancy laced in his gaze that makes you shiver. Then, satisfied that you’ve enclosed the image to memory, you shut your eyes. The darkness helps, you think. A little.

“Good,” Astarion praises, and his lips return to your neck. He takes your hands and places them at his waist, and you’re more than happy to keep them there as he kisses down your jaw. In the darkness of your closed eyes, every touch becomes intensified. Every thought begins to slip away in favor of the feeling of him.

Sharp teeth, grazing along sensitive skin. The icy touch of his skin, sating the scorch of the arousal that shudders through your veins. The soft, almost ticklish brush of his curls against your neck as he kisses along your clavicle. The moment his hands stall at your top, your breath hitches, and your body flinches - an automatic defense you’ve ingrained over the years.

But you want him to touch you. You want this. So you take in a steadying breath and compel your muscles to relax, and he continues - not teasingly slow, but not rushed, either. Taking his time with you.

You’d thought he was beautiful when you first met, but you have to admit: you’re glad that your first time with him, as horrible as the outside circumstances are, is happening here, and not on your wedding night, when you were so hesitant of him. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it, then, even if he’d been the exact same with you. But now? 

Gods, you’re enjoying it. And, judging by the growing hardness between his legs, he’s enjoying it too. 

You’d like to think you’re a patient person, but you really aren’t. The more your want grows, the more your impatience does as well. Your breathing has turned heavy, and as his hands, slowly taking on your warmth, grasp lightly over your ribs, the rhythm of your lungs turns shaky - your entire body singing in want for something you’ve never even experienced.

Just as you’re truly getting desperate, he pulls away again, his hands trailing along your abdomen as he nips at your ear. “You poor thing,” he says, his voice light and teasing. “How did you stand it all this time, alone with me?”

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you, observing the sight of you. You shake your head, failing to bite away the smile that’s threatening to show itself. “Sex wasn’t exactly my priority in the middle of the woods, Astarion. The circumstances were awful.”

“True,” he remarks, tilting his head. His fingers graze over your thigh, still clothed with fabric, but you almost can pretend you don’t know better. “Still,” he says softly, his hands stalling at your lower navel, “here’s hoping we’ll get more time to enjoy this.”

Before he continues undressing you, he pauses, and that crease between his brows forms again. “Just to be clear,” he says, “you do want this?”

Your response is immediate, albeit breathy with want. “I do.”

He flashes you a grin, suddenly wicked. “Good.” 

To your dismay, he crawls off of you, but it’s immediately remedied when he places his hands on your shoulder and eases you to the soft floor of the tent, coaxing your legs apart with his knee.

Any clothes you’re still wearing are quickly disposed of, and needless to say, being so naked while he’s still fully clothed leaves you feeling entirely too vulnerable. “Planning to take me with your clothes on?” you ask, and he pauses, blinking - shaking his head, as if shaking away a stray thought. “Of course not,” he says, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “Simply admiring the view, darling.”

His shirt comes off, first, tugged over his head. All silky-smooth skin that you want to trail your hands over, admire inch by inch. Gods, he’s beautiful, shadows reflecting over lithe muscle, supple skin and unearthly beauty you shouldn’t be able to touch. But you are. You gently lift a hand to him, running your fingers over his forearm, and he smiles, undoing his trousers. 

Your entire body tenses in anticipation of him, but your gaze can’t stay in place. It meets his for a moment, taking in the dark ruby color of his eyes. It flickers over his nimble fingers, studies the tendons in his hands, dances over his chest and abdomen. Something stirs in you, something that aches well beyond the temporary arousal, something that cuts deeper. It’s something that, selfishly, wants him to stay. Wants him to curl next to you in the nights, wants him to leave his mother behind and continue on with you.

An impossible want, but it’s still there. After this, where will it leave the two of you? 

You aren’t sure - but if this is the only chance you’re going to get at it, you’re damn well going to take it. Astarion leans over you, kissing you softly, and then his talented fingers are going to work between your thighs. They work a smooth, blissful friction that you’ve never been able to achieve by yourself - and, though the anxious rooting inside of you wants to shut your eyes, you don’t. You hold his gaze. 

For just a moment, he looks almost distant, but his eyes clear - and something darkens in his gaze as he looks at you. He props over you, watching you as you squirm in pleasure, his lips slightly parted.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and you nearly come apart right there. You don’t, though. He pulls his hand away and you’re left shuddering, panting and aching. Then, he moves closer, places a hand on your thigh to coax your legs apart, and works a finger into you. 

His hands are warm by now, but - gods. The feeling of him, compared to your feeble attempts, is nearly shameful. He takes his time with this - goes slow, watching your face intently. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you realize.

Your impatience is less now, as he increases it to two, then three; the stretch, despite his best efforts, is bordering on painful. The almost-pain fades the further he goes on, bleeding into something else that’s so intensely pleasurable you want to beg him to just take you. 

When he finally stops, he tilts his head. “Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice silky and low. 

“Please,” comes your response.

“Darling, no need to beg,” he says. “I won’t keep you waiting.”

And he doesn’t. He props himself over you, lowering himself to kiss you, and your leg hitches around his waist. His skin is warm from touching yours, but it’s cold where your arms move to wrap around his neck. You’re mindful of his scars, because you doubt he likes them touched, and he brushes his nose against your cheek as he pushes into you. Slowly, again, but you’re not going to complain. There’s that wash of pain again, and then - oh, gods. Pleasure. Delicious, blissful friction. Your chest heaves and your mouth lets out a loud, needy sound. 

Only then do you remember you’re in the middle of camp, but honestly? You’re so removed at this point that you don’t even care. If all of Calthir hears you getting fucked to the heavens by their enemy prince, so be it. Cal’s probably fucked off to somewhere else anyway, no doubt burdened by guilt. He has to feel some sort of guilt, doesn’t he?

“Gods,” Astarion pants, drawing you back to the present as he slowly deepens his thrusts. You swallow hard, watching the crease of pleasure form between his brows, studying the flash of fangs between his lips. You’re drunk on pleasure, the feel of him, the tiny solitude in this tent that separates you from the rest of the world. He kisses you again, and this time it’s heated, desperate, messy. 

His tongue molds against yours, his fangs graze your lip. Gods, his pace is picking up. Your muscles are starting to tense - the flushed warmth that’s building under your skin is growing. He lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulder, and you instinctively tilt your head for him, giving him access to your neck.

He studies your expression for a moment, as if he’s confirming what you’re offering, and then - gods. He sinks his fangs into your neck. 

If you’d thought the practice was intimate before, it’s so much more now. You barely even feel the pain of the piercing skin - all you feel is him tasting you, groaning into your skin, his hips still rolling evenly. 

He only takes a little, but when he pulls away, there’s that rosy flush to his cheeks. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, metallic iron. His movements are less graceful, now. His gaze is dark and intense, and his grip on you is stronger when he takes your shoulder again, thrusting harder - enough to have you tensing, the both of you panting. 

When the pleasure finally takes you, it’s so intense it’s almost painful. It starts somewhere deep within, working its way through you, singing through your veins until the world blurs at the edges. Blinding, white-hot waves of it ebb and flow through you, taking you away from every sensation but that of Astarion, skin balmy against yours - floating somewhere in the depths of your mind until you finally come down. 

Astarion shudders through his climax just after you, letting out a sudden, wanting noise - as if it’s been punched out of him. As if it had surprised him, just the way it had surprised you. You want to memorize it. You want to take that sound and remember it forever.

When it’s all passed, you’re left covered in sweat, sated, and very, very vulnerable. The arousal that had drifted away your insecurities is waning, and you’re left wanting to hide - to crawl away. But Astarion gently kisses you, carefully pulling out of you, and exhaustion takes over instead. 

The Gur. Finding out about Cazador. Cal’s betrayal. All of that in one day, and it’s taking its toll. Your eyes feel heavy. Your muscles feel achy and worn out. Your thoughts are clouded over, too intertwined and complicated to drag apart when you’re like this.

You sit up and grab a stray rag, intending to clean yourself, but Astarion tugs it out of your fingers. “No, darling, let me,” he says. 

And you do.

He confuses you - that he can be so vicious and so tender. He’d killed Gandrel without hesitation, without remorse - though, admittedly, you’d let him. Let him. As if you had some control over him. As if you could have stopped him. It should scare you, perhaps - that callous, venomous side of him - but it doesn’t. The rough edges of him you keep finding only make you want him more. The details don’t sate you. You always want more. 

And now, you suppose you’ll find out what comes next. 

The tent is silent. You fumble through your pack and find your sleeping clothes, and Astarion does the same. You’re hesitant, not wanting to push too far. You know very well sex doesn’t mean anything more - however much you might want more - and you know for certain that Astarion had not offered you anything aside from that. Still, the thought of curling up alone tonight has your chest aching.

When you finish dressing, you find that Astarion has pulled the two bedrolls together, fluffed up by the pillows and blankets. He raises a brow and pats the spot next to him, and it’s really very childish, the way your chest fills with a delirious sort of joy. You make your way next to him, and he folds you into his arms. 

His skin is cool again. The little sounds of him are relaxing - the movements of his ribs when he breathes, the bob of his throat when he swallows, the light sigh he lets out when his head meets the pillow. It almost makes up for the silence in his chest. The void of sound where a beating heart should be.

For just a moment, before sleep pulls you away, you wonder if he remembers how it felt - to have something alive, thrumming in his chest.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

[fictionkinfessions]

GAAHHHHHHHHH

//runs around in a circle

Hello citizens of fictionkinconfessions dot com, ‘‘‘tis I, the Dead-est of Pools, back at it again with more incomprehensible chatter. I got to see Deadpool and Wolverine yesterday and oh boy do I have some opinions

First off: mcu? Die. I hate you, you’re ugly, you treat the actors like shit, AND your company is loosing money. Suck it Kevin Feige. I’ve already seen people say that Deadpool 3 saved the mcu from a summer blowout and that is honestly so fucking funny. Fucking imagine owing your life to me, I literally am Marvel Super Jesus. Woe. I bestow the gift of millions of dollars upon Walt Disney’s royal corpse

Second: the movie was funny. Like if I ignore the fact that the Disney movie throws out all the existing lore built during the first two, it’s pretty funny. The back and forth bantering has been toned down for Disney audiences, which I resent. I didn’t even get to rag on Disney for sucking up Fox’s rights. God don’t we love our cooperate overlords. I wonder how many screenings and rewrites all the jokes had to go through

Third: WOLVIE I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU best part of the movie hands down. Finally, a Wolverine who’s alcoholic, pissed off and jaded. That’s like my favorite flavor of Wolverine. The whole scene in the Honda where we penetrate each other with knives? And he ties me up? 🥰😍 personally I feel like his storyline got more attention than mine (in my own movie, which I’m the header for) but who caressssssss. Movies are temporary. Shirtless sweaty Huge Jacked Man with his happy trail out is forever

Fourth and final thing I promise (and this is an open question to any Marvel kinnies still around): why are there so many evil twins. Like have you guys noticed that? Chucks evil twin (who’s also bald) tried to destroy the multiverse in my movie, Madelyn Pryor exists in XMen-97, Wolvies evil twin is Vic (which I loved seeing by the way. All the cameos were great, including all the versions of me), etc. etc. is it the new norm to have an evil twin? Like you’re so bad and got so much character development that the writers had to create your antithesis. I think mine is Nicepool, I saw him in the movie and felt the need to rend him apart at the molecular level

Anywhooooooo; that’s all I got. For now. Toodles

- your not so neighborly friend Deadpool



x

[koinotame]

\o/

hi! it's me, nana / koinotame!

if you're wondering why i went inactive and then deleted, my mental health kind of (really) tanked... and i ended up deleting my blog in a fit.

it's getting better bit by bit though! and i've been wanting to get back into writing (and talking abt my unhinged/yan ideas i can't really talk to anyone else abt), so. here i am! for now, at least

as for my previously posted writing, there's some good news and some bad news: the bad news is that everything i wrote directly into tumblr (99% of snippets, a lot of ask answers, most exact content warnings, etc) is gone. the slightly less bad news is that iirc there were very very few posts of mine that weren't reblogged by anyone at all, so they're probably still out there? feel free to send them my way if you find any and i'll rb them. @/midnight-remembrance also has reblogged a couple of them! there's a couple snippets i have saved in some places, so i might repost those on my own as i find them, but there's very few of those. the good news is that anything longer (proper writing — oneshots, hcs, yan alphabet responses and so on, prompt responses, etc) is safely backed up where i originally wrote it! some of it is also on my ao3, which is the same username. feel free to send me asks about any you'd like to see again and i'll repost them! i might not post them if i feel too embarrassed about/wish i hadn't posted them, and i might rewrite/heavily edit some of them, but i think there's only a handful that fall into the former category and none of them were particularly popular. either way, no harm in asking!

as for some other updates: i'm a little divided on whether i want to keep posting explicit nsfw or not so we'll see. i might just keep it out of main tags. idk yet. regardless of what decision i make, this blog is still strictly 18+ and that will not be changing. since we can reply from sideblogs now, this is a sideblog and not my main now. why? sometimes i prefer to check up on a blog frequently instead of following them for a couple of reasons, but this felt very awkward when they were following me. so this being a sideblog relieves a bit of that stress. if this makes it sound like i have severe brain worms, it's because i do. to that effect though, if we interact every so often feel free to consider us mutuals regardless of whether or not i'm actually following you =w=b tbh i.............. am not really into genshin anymore. i might post about it here and there but i just Do Not (really) Care about it anymore. scara aside to some degree i also have no clue what's going on post inazuma lol whatever projects or commitments to writing or etc i had made beforehand. i forgot all of them so just pretend that never happened ok? ok i'll also probably be posting more sparsely, but we'll see! and (this is obviously the most important bit) i have no clue where i put the mika edit so we're back to my og classic pfp. the header scales terribly and is temporary, please ignore that too

all that aside, as a treat for anyone who sees this in time,

*roughly 6/22 done, but fairly quick to write. roughly one paragraph per character (sneak peek line: "it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that.") **more realistic isn't quite the right word(s)... probably won't post this one to the main tags regardless. won't be doing all of the characters (only important/relevant ones) and won't be writing more about/expanding on, so this one is just like. a one off experiment sort of thing. overall less violent than most takes on the au + leans a bit (or lot, depending on how you look at it) more on the religious aspect of self aware aus. i wrote a couple paragraphs a while ago, then rewrote them, but i'll only finish/post them if there's interest for it (sneak peek line: "aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace.")

i have one other new thing immediately ready for posting that'll get posted in a couple of days but that one's pretty silly

[helium-stims]

CAT TIME!

I ended up just using the paw, but here's the full pic

Also, ignore my temporary header. I got tired of resizing the photo in the header, only for it to crop it a different way after I hit save. I'll try to figure that out some other day :)

[devilbunzz-moved]

HELLO GAY PEOPLE

Oc world blog > @erthstuff

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//bruised and battered. sakusa kiyoomi//

Request: Soulmate AU where your soulmates scars appears on you and Omi somehow landed with the clumsiest girl in the world as his soulmate👉🏻👈🏻🥺

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes:  okayokayokay i changed it up a bit?? So, think more like shared pain until you meet?? Also i’ll add the header later because it’s uhhhhh 6 am? And I should uhhhh sleep?

@nekxrizawa bby, because I won’t post the inbox message until I wake up in god knows how many hours and you said you wanted tagged ;-;

Sakusa must’ve looked like an old man, hobbling around school.  His entire body hurt as if he had tripped down the stairs.  He had been sitting in class, trying to mind his own damn business when the slow ache set in.  His jaw had clenched tight, trying his best to distract himself from the discomfort of the purple bruises that were surely forming all over his body. 

But, he was used to it by now.  His entire life he had been dealing with the constant random pains and bruises.  His body was littered with scars from all sorts of accidents, the most prominent being the one on his knee.  Everyone got hurt, he knew that.  Hell, even he got his own bruises after rigorous hours of practice, but this?  This was just ridiculous.  How the hell did he get stuck with the clumsiest person as a soulmate?  

It was like every other day something was wrong.  One time he was just trying to run laps with the rest of the team and his ankle randomly gave out, the throbbing pain from a new sprain of his soul mate’s ankle having him sitting down to take a quick breather.  There would be times when Sakusa would just be laying in his bed, trying to get some sleep when there was a jolt of pain passing through his nose, making him reach up to try to soothe the aching.  Did you fall or did you drop your phone on your face?  He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.  All he knew was that his nose hurt and now he was annoyed and couldn’t wait to finally figure out who you were so he could scold you for being so reckless with your body.  

But, even if it annoyed the shit out of him, there was part of him that found your complete and utter clumsiness to be almost . . . endearing.  It was so easy to picture himself tutting his tongue at you, calling you a dumbass, a cute pout on your face after stubbing your toe.  He didn’t even know who you were or what you looked like, but just like everyone else, there was a certain excitement within his chest about one day finding his soulmate and finally learning all of the stories behind the scars that you shared.

Sakusa didn’t know the full extent of that dull throbbing pain that had been building inside of his body since class until the end of the day.  He had been stripping his uniform to change into his set of practice clothes, the steady eyes of his teammates stopping him in his actions.  “What happened to your legs?”  Komori asks, tugging his own shirt over his torso.

It was then that Sakusa finally took a good look at himself.  There were deep bruises on his shins as if you had slammed them into something.  He caught himself shaking his head.  So, he was partially right, but instead of falling down the stairs, you fell up the stairs and had likely hit your shins on one of the steps.  But, as if those heavy purple marks weren’t enough, a third bruise was just barely visible under the leg of his shorts.  You were a walking disaster, that was for sure.  

“Soulmate,” was the only response that Sakusa could manage, bending down slowly to tie his sneakers, trying his best to ignore all of the aches and pains that you had caused him.

“Man, you really got it bad, huh?” Komori laughed, punching his cousin on the shoulder lightly.   “I couldn’t imagine getting hurt as much as you do.  Seems like every week you have a new bruise.”

The ace just shrugged, gingerly getting back up to his feet.  It was just his life.  It wasn’t anything new.  The bruises and the scratches and the scars were just a part of him, they were a part of you, a physical representation of a bond that couldn’t be broken.  There would be more scars and more pain as his life continued, but it was worth it to be with his other half.  If he had to endure a couple bruises and some random small injuries to find you, he would do it over and over again.  Bruises eventually go away and even scars can begin to fade, it’s all only temporary, but the love and adoration that he hopes to one day hold for you would be eternal, making everything worth it.  

Maybe it was cheesy.  Maybe this whole soulmate thing didn’t seem like his vibe, but what could he say?  There would be long nights of just staring at the ceiling as his mind raced and his heart pounded and he was flooded with thoughts of his soulmate.  What would they look like?  How would their laugh sound?  Could they sing?  Do they know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop?  Did they eat pineapple on their pizza?  Those important questions always plagued his mind, leaving him tossing and turning for hours on end.  

He had dreamt of meeting you a million times.  Sakusa thought that it might be something as small as recognizing a scar or watching you bump your head and then feeling pain in the same area, you know, like something out of a movie.  Except that wasn’t it.  Honestly, he would’ve missed the opportunity if it hadn’t been for Komori.  The libero had nudged him as they walked to class one morning.  “Hey, they have a bruise on their leg just like you do!  That’s kind of a neat coincidence, don’t you think?”  Komori’s easy smile and warm laugh was lost to Sakusa.  It was like his whole world was moving in slow motion, eyes trained only on the girl walking the halls with a group of friends, blackish-blue bruises painted across her shins, a larger one on her thigh just barely visible beneath the school uniform.   There was no doubting it.  After 17 years, there you were, right there in his own school this entire time.

One of your friends noticed the wide look on his face, tapping your shoulder, and gesturing towards him.  That little smile that spread across his face as you turned to look at him for the first time was unlike anything anyone had ever seen, but he couldn’t help himself.  You were better than anything he had ever imagined.  That absolutely bewildered expression as you stared up at him, your mouth settling in a small, “Oh,” as you got a good look at him.  There was a small scar above his right eyebrow, matching the one that you had gotten after running into a table as a toddler.  A scar in the shape of an ‘L’ on left hand from the time that you cut yourself trying to open a can of peaches.  The more you looked, the more markings you found that matched the ones that covered your own body.  

“So, what’d you do?  Trip up the stairs?”  Sakusa teased, nodding his head towards the bruises on your legs.

“Hey!  You don’t know that!”

He felt the edges of his mouth twitch up into a teasing smirk.  “So, you did trip up the stairs.”  And Sakusa just tutted his tongue at you as he shook his head, a small pout taking over your already cute features, just like he had always imagined.  “Dumbass.”

[sweet-berry-sims]

Check in Tag

I was tagged by @siancyaniam and thank you so much!

Why did you choose your URL?

Well I like playing berry sims and I always saw the tag of berry sweet sims and I honestly had it switched around in my head lol. I didn’t really think too hard on my url tbh. 

How long have you been on tumblr?

Since 2018 though I didn’t start posting anything until 2019. My blog got deleted in 2020 though so things from before then are kinda lost to the void. 

Do you have a queue tag?

I have no idea what a queue tag is. To be fair though, I did not know that I could set up a queue for the longest time lol. 

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I started on another platform and then when I discovered tumblr I realized it was so much easier to keep things organized with tags. 

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Well my current one is my Gen 4 Prism Heir and my Gen 2 tarot storytelling challenge heir, though technically their generations are over so when I get off temporary hiatus, I’ll be updating it.

Why did you choose your header?

Since My Prism family is what started my TS4 storytelling legacy (and also they have generational pictures) I figured they can take up the header. 

What’s your post with the most notes?

Not sure honestly. Probably one in the top posts section? 

How many mutuals do you have?

Quite a few. I don’t really keep count though. 

How many followers do you have?

Legitimate followers? Cause I definitely have bots following me but I can’t tell the difference between most bots and lurkers and I don’t want to block someone who might just have a completely unrelated blog. So... I don’t even know how many are real and how many are just bots. Lol

How many people do you follow?

347, though I’m not just on simblr. I follow things for other fun stuff, and also jokes and silly pictures. 

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not really. 

How often do you use tumblr every day?

On my own stuff, I either use it daily or I drop off the face of the earth for a while in terms of posting but I’m usually on daily catching up on other people’s stuff. 

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

Nope, I don’t really delve into fighting.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

Has similar vibes to like chain emails. “send this to x amount of people or you’ll be cursed” or those “lucky whatever! Reblog for great luck, ignore for misery.” Lol.  

Do you like tag games?

I love them, they’re so much fun. 

Do you like ask memes?

Ask memes? Not really sure what that means... but I love being asked stuff about my stories and sims. 

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I don’t really know but I think the stories people make are so fun and creative and definitely deserve more love. 

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Nah

I dunno who to tag so anyone who wants to feel free to!

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 3

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count-2,383

Warning- Mentions of: loss of parents, death, and fires.  Possible swearing. Slight angst. Fluff

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo.  The square filled for this chapter is Christmas Tree  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.  

This chapter also fills my entry for @supernatural-love14​,100 Followers writing challenge.  Prompt - I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

To say you were surprised to end up at an elementary school would be an understatement.    Dean’s group of fascinating people were the kindergarten classes. He even had plastic fireman hats for them, and of course an extra one for you. 

The kids were so caught up in his speech about fire safety and the important things to remember if there ever is a fire.  He was so good with them and kept them all interested.  He finished his presentation talking about Christmas trees and how they should all make sure their parents keep them watered, so the lights don’t catch them on fire. 

Dean took questions at the end.  Some of the boys wanted to know what it was like to drive the fire truck, someone asked if it was fun to slide down the pole.  They were disappointed when Dean told them there wasn’t one where he worked.  One little girl at the end ran up and gave him a great big hug before you guys left.  He was so adorable with her. 

When you left there Dean asked if you were interested in helping him pick out tiles for the kitchen backsplash.  You didn’t have anything else to do and had been enjoying helping him with the house so you agreed. 

Getting to the store he had three different ones selected and had you help him decide.  After the paint he trusted your opinion on the color selection.   

They had enough in stock of your choice to let you two get started on it when you got home.  The rest would be in soon.  You had a system worked out, you put the mastic on the back and Dean applied the tile to the wall. 

That afternoon Dean headed into work for another 24 hour shift. The second call of the afternoon was for a house fire.  Thankfully for the residents it was mostly contained to one room, just the living room.  But that room had a bit of damage done.

Hoping out of the truck back at the station he asks, “Okay who seriously is going to BBQ a turkey in the fireplace.  And plan on doing it twice because this was just going to be a test run before Christmas?”

“It’s the Holidays,”  Bobby stated.  “People are going to be doing crazy things.  You’ve been here a few years don’t you know this by now.”

“That is true.  Y/N and I were talking about that earlier after we left the school presentation.”

“Wait, WE, left the presentation?  Did you take her with you?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Well,”

“She’s living with him now, didn’t you know that?” Sam asks him.

“What, really?”  Benny couldn’t believe it.

“She moved in a couple days ago.”

“Wow, you two move fast.”

“It’s not like that you idiots.  She got kicked out of her condo and had nowhere else to go, and she already got fired because of me.  I’m just giving her a place to stay till she figures things out.  The house has the room.  Our dogs get along great.”

“Is that why Miracle isn’t here?”  Cas wants to know.

“Yeah, Y/N’s taking care of him and Dean. He’s falling in love.”

“Who Dean or Miracle?” Cas questions Sam.

“Dean, probably both.  She is very easy to like.”

“You’ve met her, besides that day she was in here?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Yeah, Dean called me to help move her.”

“I would have helped the nice pretty girl move, why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I’m not sure packing would have been the only thing you tried with her, Benny.  I just found her again, I’m not letting you scare her off.”

“He didn’t deny the love.”  Sam says with a smile. 

“I’m not falling in love with anyone, bitch.”  Dean shakes his head at the whole thing as he removes his gear. 

“I’m sorry, my jerk of a brother, is falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet.”

“That can’t be true Dean, come on man.  I look up to you, playing the field avoiding commitment, a constant string of beautiful women.”

“It’s not true, we aren’t falling in love, not dating.  I still don’t do commitment, and never getting married.”

“So what are you doing with Miracle if you don’t do commitment?”  Bobby asks as he takes off his coat.”

“Temporary long termish house guest.”

“Uh huh.”

“I told him when the house is sold he’s on his own.”

“Let us know how that works out in a couple of months, you idjit.”

“I’m calling your bluff with the girl.  Can you say no to these three things.”

“Really Cas?”

Cas ignores Dean and continues on, “ You live with her?  That’s a yes.  Two, you spend all your free time with her? Yes.”

“Well.”

“Three, you think about her when you aren’t with her? Yes,”

“No, no, you have it all wrong.  Like I said she is only staying till she gets back on her feet.  We are getting to know each other so we hang out, but only  because she’s already there.”

“Getting to know each other like you would if you were dating someone?”

“Shut it Sam.”

“Are you saying he is falling in love?  The legend, is human after all?”  Benny questioned.

“No, I’m not falling in love.  Y/N is a temporary roommate.  That’s it.”

“Man, you are like five minutes away from marrying this girl.”  Sam tells him.

“I hate you all.”  Gear off Dean leaves them behind to take a shower.

“Keep telling yourself that!”  Bobby yells after him.

Wandering around Dean’s house alone while he was at work, you got to thinking.  There was one thing you were really missing this close to Christmas, and it was something you didn’t think you would be able to have this year.  A Christmas tree.

When Dean gets home the next afternoon you bring it up.

“I was wondering if you were going to get a Christmas tree this year?”

“Usually don’t.  I don’t think I’ve had one in a few years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen a reason too.  I buy a house, fix it up and sell it.  Usually I don’t stay in one long enough.  I don’t do much for the Holidays.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a tree?  I have a little artificial tabletop tree, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a real one?  To have that Christmas smell when you walk in the door?”

“If you like real ones so much why didn’t you already have one in your place?”

“It was against the bylaws. Apparently too much of a fire liability.”

“That didn’t stop you with Dakota.”

“The tree can’t be hidden quickly like she was.  She was worth risking it for.”

“You really want to get a tree?”

“Please, it helps it feel more like Christmas.  If you don’t want one I understand.”

Dean threw his head back and sighed.  “Fine we can go get a tree.  I think there is a tree lot near the station that hasn’t sold out yet.”

“Let’s go to a tree farm, get the whole experience.”

“You’ll be the death of me Sweetheart.”

Dean didn’t have to work at all the following day, so after breakfast the two of you headed out to the Christmas tree farm.  Dressed in warm clothes and boots you were ready to walk all around the 8 acre tree farm if you needed to, just to find the right tree.   There was a wagon ride that took you around to the different types of trees.  Dean and you got off in the back lot figuring you could walk your way toward the entrance. 

“There’s a tree,”  Dean points out as you start walking down the first row.

“Yes, and it’s also like four foot tall.  It’s still growing, let the baby be.”

“Okay, miss Christmas tree expert.  How do you pick the perfect Christmas tree?”

“It’s really pretty scientific you know.”

“Oh really? Please do explain it to me.”

You laughed at his expression. He had turned to you with wide eyes and a cheeky little grin.  Like he was going to absorb whatever you said.  “You dork.”  Heading over to a tree you reach for a branch pulling your hand back toward you slowly.  “First you need to check the freshness.  If the needles stay on when you do that it’s good.”

You drop your hand to the side, “Then you need to inhale deeply and see how it smells.”

Dean did just that, “It smells like a tree.”

“Okay, but does it smell Christmassy.”

“Christmassy?  Pretty sure you just made that word up.”  

“Nope it’s totally in the dictionary.”

“Okay, Webster.  Then what does it mean?”

“To be filled with Christmas spirit.”

Dean just stared at you for a moment.  “You think a tree is going to smell like it’s filled with Christmas spirit?  Just wondering if you were drinking before I got up this morning?”

“Oh come on, it’s that fresh cut pine smell that fills the whole place and makes it feel like Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll leave the nose work to you.  What is step three?”  He wants to know as you two walk down the lane looking at the trees around you.

“The lean test.  You need to look at a tree straight on, then lean to the right and to the left, then stand back up straight.  You don’t want a tree that is leaning too hard one way and is crooked.”  You stop to inspect a tree, but continue on down your way.

The fourth step is checking the trunk and making sure nothing is wrong with it.  Sometimes the tree might be straight but that isn’t.  Or it could have a double one that won’t fit in a tree stand.”

“Height is important too.  Your ceilings are fairly high so we could get a foot tree no problem.”

Dean is just smiling listening to you go on about trees while you walk through the lot. “Yep that is extremely scientific.”

You two stopped and looked at different ones but kept going.  There was one you stuck a stick up in top of to mark if you didn’t find anything else you liked. Around an hour into your search you stopped in your tracks.  Dean was lost in his thoughts and took him a moment to notice.  

“That’s the one.”

“The one?”

“Yep, that’s the tree we should get.”

“There is only one?  How do you know it’s the one? What if you are wrong, but you’ve already committed to it?  What happens then, fighting and hurting the kids?”

“You lost me, Dean.”

“I um,”  He just realized what all came out of his mouth. “I  mean it’s a great tree.  Let’s get that one.”

“You sure you are alright?”

“Yep great.  Hold that steady, till I need you to push a little, will you?”

While you were helping to hold the tree from moving too much Dean got on the ground and started sawing back and forth till he had it lying on the ground.  You couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his arms as he worked. 

The two of you carried the tree toward the path in the hopes the wagon would be around soon and you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way to the front.  Thankfully only about five minutes later you could hear it coming around.  Up at the front they shook and bagged the tree for you.  

They also had Santa, and some petting animals around.

“Did you want to go tell Santa your Christmas wish?”  You asked Dean.

“You know, I already saw him this year.  He and I are pretty tight.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

After seeing the animals you hopped in his truck and headed to the store.  Neither of you had a stand that would fit the newly bought tree.  With that accomplished you were on your way back to the house.  Getting the tree inside it was set up in the living room not to far from the fire place, but not near enough to catch any sparks that may pop out. 

Dean didn’t have any decorations in the house, but you had some you had been saving.  After the lights were on you went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for the two of you and pulled out some of the peanut butter blossom cookies you made the day before.  Coming back Dean still hadn’t turned on the tv so you asked if you could.  Finding the different music channels you finally came across a Christmas one.

The two of you were enjoying the music and each other’s company as you decorated the tree. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was done and cleaned up.  You offered to start dinner and Dean came in to help you.  The two of you working easily in the newly finished kitchen. 

After dinner you two retired back to the living room turning off the lights in the room and just letting the tree shine.  There was a roaring fire going, The Santa Clause 2 playing on tv.  Chet had to be one of your favorite reindeer in training. It was very relaxing.  

After the movie Dean mutes the television and turns to you.  “Thank you for suggesting the tree.  It’s actually really nice to have it.  I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.  My parents fought a lot when we were little after the fire, before and after separating.  After we lost them it was just Sam and I.  Both of us just worked double shifts on Christmas at the station so others could have the time off.  Now Sam has Jess so he works part of the day, but doesn’t do a double anymore so he can spend time with her and her family.

He looks around at the decorations on the mantle, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you had some other small decorations you wanted to get out too.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I have that won’t be in the way.”

He turns the volume back up and the two of you settle back to watch another movie.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 

Tags- @winchest09  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean  @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29  @igotmadskills

[sweetestlamb]

Rain On Me

A Motel Smut Fic 

Summary: The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits. 

Author's note: Sorry that this took a while, life has been a bit busy in the best way. I’m very excited to see so many others joining the fandom and writing fanfiction though, glad to be able to read stories from talented writers! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I had a harder time than usual with this smut, and the pov switches a few times because MY and GT had a lot to say and I just followed their lead. I can never write smut without a tinge of emotions so please excuse the excessive inner thoughts and inner monologues, I initially planned on just starting with the sex but I just love a build up. * Plays Ashanti’s “Rain On Me” 

Thank you for the beautiful header @essantial​ you’re the absolute best! 

The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits.

She hasn't the vaguest idea where he intends to bring them but she knows she'll follow him wherever he leads. Her heart had spattered to a stop just like the motorcycle's rumbling engine when she saw him approaching, his face chiseled and undeniably beautiful under the hard cascade of precipitation pouring from the skies. She'd never had a knight in shining armor, never had anyone try to protect her. She was hard, jagged and sharp, lashing out and wounding others before they could get close enough to harm her.

Yet.

There he'd been. Coming to save her even after snapping at her like a viper, acid dripping from the tip of his tongue as he crushed her under his foot like the empty can he'd compared her to. She had been too shocked to respond, to retaliate, to defend herself.

There was also that little voice that had awakened in her mind, advising her to think before she acted, a voice that frustratedly sounded like the very person who she itched to lash out at. The irony of her situation was not lost on her. He was both the one who tormented her and soothed her.

Ergo, she'd let his words slash her skin, hot tears boiling in her eyes as he rejected her once again. She hated herself for how devastated his words had left her, what he declared was no different from the thoughts that plagued her mind already. Was she just an empty can with no feelings? Loud and clattering, merely a hindrance to others who needed to be avoided at all cost? Was her father justified for squeezing the air from her lungs? If she had succumbed to death's inevitable call would she be doing the world a favor?

But, he had come to rescue her, and by extension of his act did that mean she was worth saving? Worth living?

"Get off. We're here." His curt words abruptly drag her back from her rumination, as he begins to slide off the bike, trying to pry her cold fingers from his immense warmth. "Let go." She tightens her hold fearing that if she releases he will abandon her, leaving her cold and alone. With a strong swipe he breaks her tight grip on his soaked shirt and stands up, long legs unfurling from their bent position on the bike.

"Come on."

He walks away before she obeys his direct command, and that's when she realizes where "here" is, a brightly lit motel, fluorescent light blinding in the dark fog left by the rain. After a slight pause, she hops off the bike following him through the glass door into the motel, the heat surrounds her almost immediately, her soaked body shivering underneath his sweater- the knight's armor.

The motel clerk perks up at their entrance, pushing the magazine he'd been reading to the side before welcoming them, "Hello, how can I help you?" His voice is inviting, much like a vendor selling goods on the streets.

Gang-tae flounders at the innocuous question, as she rolls her eyes, he routinely claims she's impulsive and needs to take time to think things through, yet he is the one that sped out on a motorcycle during a storm and now brought them to a motel only to act like a deer in headlights when asked a simple question.

She doesn't save him, watching him raptly along with the motel clerk. Curious about what he'll say next. Seconds pass as they both watch him awaiting an answer before finally, he solemnly turns to her, "Get a room here and wait out the rain. I'll ride home."

His words cut her like the blade of a sharpened knife, his presence was merely temporary, he'd had no plans of remaining with her, she was simply something to save and capriciously toss away before forming any attachment, insignificant. Anger and shame simmer in the pit of her churning stomach.

Poison curls around each syllable in her words, "I didn't ask you to bring me here, I was fine walking in the rain!" She spins around, with the full intention of marching right back into the rain and walking until her body is numb, longing to feel nothing and become the empty can he believes her to be.

His hand on her wrist halts her motion, "Stop being stubborn! You can't go back out there, it's too dangerous! Are you that fearless to travel outside in this weather by yourself? What if something happened to you and I wasn't there to--"

Her eyes widen at his shouted concerns, his grip on her wrist is hard as steel as his eyes pierce into her soul. Who is he to look at her like that and say those words to her? As if he cares about her.

She explodes.

Snatching her wrist from his hand she bulldozes into his space, eyeing with satisfaction as he retreats as she looms closer, one step forward, one step back.

"Why do you care if I'm out in this rain? Who cares if I put on a strip show outside like a crazy woman?" His eyes minutely twitch at the suggestion, something almost possessive flashing for only a second.

She misses it as her rant continues, "Are you angry? Does it bother you? Do you like me? Do you think you can handle it!" She barks each question into his face, until they collide with the machine, lights blaring in their sight, the crash from her hand slamming on its surface deafening in the otherwise silent hall.

It is dead quiet, only the sound of their breaths filling the air.

"Well? Why aren't you answering? I want to know how you're feeling, I can't tell. Maybe it's because I'm a empty can." She states spitefully, watching regret swirl in the dark pools of his eyes, his wet rain curled fringe only distracting her for a split second.

She shows no mercy, mockingly pressing on, "Why are you being so quiet? Are you an empty can too?"

Despite the clear difference in their height, he shrinks under her wrath, cowering under the weight of the carefully placed venomous words.

"I...I..." He stutters out, incomplete sentences dangling in the air, she watches as his eye dart across her face before he looks over her shoulder and suddenly turns a fiery scarlet hue. His cheeks lighting up like a wildfire. He pushes past her arm cornering him in and she spins around to continue her tirade.

Before her eyes land on the motel clerk, shiny foiled contraception hanging from the tips of his fingers, mischievous smirk on his face.

"She'll take a room." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and slamming down an indiscernible amount of money on the table.

The clerk begins to rattle off information about the quality of his "steamy hot" rooms and all the features available, mirrored rooms, costumes, handcuffs, and even a hot tub. She hears almost none of it, still stuck on his statement, she'll take a room.

The motel clerk passes the room key, glimpsing at them both, eyes pointedly lingering on Gang-tae as if trying to converse with him with just the shifting of his pupils, before mouthing, stay with her.

She doesn't give him a chance to answer, reject her again, he has hurt her enough today to last a lifetime.

The rolling sound of the zipping descending is loud as she pulls it down the length of her body, tugging the jacket swiftly from her body, ignoring the immediate chill that stabs her skin, shivers rushing through her body. Vehemently she throws the sweater at him, watching as he jumps back from the soaked material before his eyes land on her throat. He gasps at the sight.

She knows what he's seeing, can feel her father's hands still curled around her throat bruising the tender skin and marking her a monster. Something to be passionately murdered, snuffed out of existence.

If that was his sole purpose for coming she didn't need his fucking pity.

Snatching the key she storms off, absently listening as the clerk directs her to the location of her room. She strides down the winding maze of the hall, following the signs as they guide her until she sees her room door, 1J. Finally, she approaches the door, key already in hand.

Only to be stilled by a hand on her shoulder, twisting around in shock she's rendered speechless by the face that greets her.

She's never seen this man in her life but his smarmy smile instantly puts her on edge. A gold tooth glints back at her when his mouth curls up in a salacious grin, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all on your lonesome? You look like you could use some company." He boldly moves into her space, openly perusing her like goods, her skin crawls under his appraisal, her black undergarments peeking through the soaked white of her dress.

The desire to cover herself is colossal.

"Don't touch me." She shoves him away, snarling at his audacity, homicidal thoughts surging in her mind as she contemplates removing her shoe and bludgeoning him until he's an unrecognizable pulp on the dingy carpeted floor. 

He chuckles at her refusal, "Don't be like that. You should know that girls that look like you only come here for one reason. Don't play hard to get. I have money." He proudly pulls a few crumpled bills from the dark crevice of his pants, his hands encroach closer, intending to slip the money into the top of her dress.

She recoils from his grubby hands, voice raising with indignation and horror, "You think I'm a whore?! And you think you can pay for me with this measly amount of money? Get away from me you loser, use your hand like you have been all your life!" Her voice echoes off the walls and she watches the smirk melt off his face, giving way to pure distinguishable rage.

"You bitch! I'll show you your place!" His hand draws back, open palm flying toward her face. She stands still expecting the fire that will ignite on her cheek.

Only it never comes.

Her eyes which screwed shut in anticipation of the impact, flutter open only to see his broad back covering her completely. His hands are wrapped tightly around the wrist of the man, twitching in his grip as the man sputters out, "Who are you? Let go of me! This is none of your busine--aahh!!" He screams dropping to his knees as the pressure on his wrist increases, pain etched in every wrinkle of his putrid face.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, please let go. You're breaking my wrist, please!" The man pleads on the floor, pulling at Gang-Tae's hold, unable to pry even a finger loose, she watches as he squeezes even tighter, his own white knuckles standing out starkly against the burnt red of the man's wrist.

Then finally he releases him. Tosses his hand away with a short cry, when he speaks his voice is crushed glass, "Get out of here." The man clutches his tender flesh to his chest before scrambling away, too terrified to even look back at them as he runs away.

He turns to her with a penetrating glare, "Why are you standing in the hallway looking like that? Come let's go inside." He motions at her body at his first inquiry, eyes struggling to avoid her tempting figure that can be seen through the almost transparent dress.

She remains still, baffled by his sudden appearance before turning to open the door and watching dazedly as he enters the room, dragging her alongside.

She'd unaware of the internal battle that had raged his brain after her departure, his eyes had followed her longingly as she moved further and further away before disappearing out of his sight. He couldn't deny the fear that raked through his bones, yearning to protect her, he'd tried to leave only to stomp back in to the annoyingly cheerful smile of the motel clerk. Defeated, he'd asked for a second key and followed her down the hallway, only to see red and then black. His reaction had been visceral, immediate and uncontrollable. He'd yearned to beat that bastard to a unrecognizable pulp for daring to touch her.

Thinking of what would have happened had he not been there makes his skin crawl. He can't leave her alone in a place like this with suspicious characters like that lurking around every corner.

Despite his best efforts he couldn't stop the pull that she had on him, his body dragged into her powerful orbit. He watches her beautiful face, expressionless as she gazes at him, none of that fire that's usually directed his way. His eyes soften at the red markings that decorate her otherwise blemish free silken skin. His anger flares again.

"What are you doing here? I thought you left." Never one to stray away from a confrontation, she immediately begins her interrogation. Eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, tracking his every movement for signs of deceit.

At a lost at how to answer, he simply stands there, their eyes locked in a battle that has been fought many times since they crashed into each other's lives.

"I don't need your pity." She bites out, snarling at him.

Her fury ignites his own, "Good. You won't get any from me. I brought you here so I should stay. That's all."

Her eyes scream liar, liar, liar as they pierce into him but she doesn't question him any further. Stomping off to the what must be the bathroom before slamming the door shut. He sighs a short breath of relief before collapsing into the bed.

Without her there to distract him he openly glances around the room, cheeks burning when he notices what exactly he has willingly walked into. The entire ceiling is smooth clear glass, streak free and crystalline shiny. His own embarrassed face stares back at him, his lips opened in a small oh.

Something fuzzy and pink catches his attention in the reflection at the head of the bed, he turns to see what it is before flinching away in surprise. He falls off the bed during his jolt, butt plummeting into the floor.

His brains tumbles before resettling.

Hand cuffs. A pair of hand cuffs are attached to the metal bar of the bed post, one half closed as the other lays open in a fluffy pillow. He's only asked for a basic room, nothing special, his exact words. Yet there is nothing ordinary about this room. He mentally curses the motel clerk, that presumptuous instigator, he'd give him a piece of his mind when they left.

All the blood rushing to his head distracts him from hearing Mun-yeong's return. Steam wafts from the bathroom, completing her dramatic entrance, his heart thumps into his chest violently as he watches her step through the steamy fog.

God damn it.

Her long raven hair spills over a naked shoulder, wavy and damp, clinging to her skin as she approaches the bed. The only thing protecting her dignity is a comically small towel, barely reaching the middle of her thigh, putting miles of bare skin on display, her legs smooth and long, skin gleaming in the dim light.

His tongue is heavy and dry in his mouth as he gapes at her.

He juts his head up at the ceiling only to groan in frustration when her equally enticing reflection greets him. Stammering out, "Yah! Put--put some clothes on. You can't.... can't just leave the bathroom with a towel on!"

She smirks, "Why are you getting so worked up? You saw my clothes they're soaking wet, I couldn't put that back on. This towel was my only option, unless you preferred I came out naked." Her perfectly plucked eyebrow lifts at the provocative suggestion, he adamantly tries to obliterate all images of that very vision that rush to his mind. Other regions of his body similarly taking an interest with this conversation.

He doesn't respond to her obvious teasing remark. Primarily because he is overwhelmed, not used to being this turned on. He can't even deny that reality, not as the heat between his legs begins to perk up in interest, ignored for far too long.

Terrified he glances back at her, finding her enraptured in the ceiling , winking and smiling at her reflection, oblivious to his plight. Gratitude and relief both dance in harmony across his skin, he uses the diversion to quietly scamper to the bathroom. The door closing signaling a much needed reprieve. He lets out a sigh as he presses his head to the door, the wood cool against his hot face. In and out, in and out. He centers himself, tugging the strings of control back into there rightful place. Feeling the desire that bloomed in his loins fissure away until only smoke remains in its destruction.

Seeing her undergarments carelessly strewn across the floor almost undoes all the carefully constructed walls he built but he closes his eyes and hops into the shower, willing himself to think of nothing.

He did the best he could to wring the excess water from his clothes before dejectedly dragging the wet cold material back onto his now shower warm skin.

It's not the best solution but it is unthinkable to exit the bathroom in only a towel, knowing that she would be donning as little as well. If they were both in towels, it would be bad. Catastrophic, even.

He gives himself a pep talk sitting on the towel, praying for control and Mun-yeong's deep slumber that will last the remainder of the night. 

His second wish is not granted as he opens the bathroom door, stopping in his tracks at the inexplicable scene.

Her lips are sealed around something plastic held between her fingers, she blows into the object and it expands in her hands, he notices the phallic shape before realizing that she's blowing the condoms like balloons.

Where did she get condoms?

Why does she have condoms?

Why was she blowing them up like erotic balloon animals??

He sputters out, flailing his arms, "Wha--What are you doing?"

With a final puff of moist air, she pulls her lips away from the condom, tying it off and looking at him nonchalantly, "You were gone for a long while, I got bored." She shrugs, "Plus we won't be needing any condoms tonight."

Disappointment drops like lead his his stomach at her statement, he should be happy, should nod in agreement and be thankful that they are on the same page, she will not be seducing him or tempting him to lose control.

Good.

Great.

Fantastic.

His heart shouts liar liar liar as he tries to convince himself.

"I'm on birth control so we don't need these getting in the way. I want to feel every inch of you, I don't want anything in between us." She calmly detonates a bomb on him, all while undressing him with her eyes and leaving every little to his imagination in her attire. Tossing the condom to the side to land with all the others she has blown up. 

"I told you to stop. Stop saying things like that to me."

"Hypocrite. You're the one who brought me to a motel, you're the one that got jealous in the hallway, you're the one who came out in a storm to rescue me. Your actions scream as loud as my words. You want this too. You want me. Just admit it."'

Admit it.

His head is spinning from her accusation, his behavior has been nothing but confusing to him as well since the moment he raced out on the motorcycle, but hearing her lament everything so concisely forces him to face the truth. He had been the one to seek her out. Impetuously, searching for her as soon as he heard what happened, unable to stop himself from reacting. Why did she have this affect on him? What was it about her that called out to him so strongly? Why couldn't he control himself when she was involved?

All questions he wasn't ready to hear the answers to.

She wasn't wrong, he was a coward.

Wordlessly he sways to the bed, needing something solid to keep him afloat in the ocean of his thoughts.

The red circling her neck grabs his attention again and he whispers, "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

Different emotions swirl in the haunting eyes and he fears she'll lash out at his question, coldly banishing it as the pity she shouted she didn't want from him.

She never does what he expects.

A humorless grin spreads across her face, "I'm alive. I'm fine. This wasn't the first time and it probably won't be the last. That man hates me and the feeling is mutual. You know what's funny, you're the first person to ask me if I'm okay. All of your little nurse friends just watched as he tried to kill me. Isn't that funny?"

It isn't funny. His hands clench in ire thinking about her gasping for life on the ground as no one came to her aide. Unable to fathom how her own father could be so cruel.

"That shouldn't have happened to you."

She looks at him dispassionately, fight leaving her eyes and her shoulders sagging.

"All monsters must die. Didn't you say that people like me should be avoided? Don't you think he was trying to do the world a favor by killi--"

"Shut up." He slams his hand over her mouth, rolling cross the expanse of the bed until they are a mere inches apart.

"You said you didn't want pity. So stop pitying yourself. What happened was wrong and you didn't deserve that."

Her eyes desperately search his face again, as she looks up at him, finding what they're looking for before he sees the sadness bleed from her eyes leaving room for something better, brighter.

It's only when her eyes shift to his lips that he realized how close they are.

Too close.

Moving his hand off her lips, he starts to lean back, scurrying back to safety. But she moves with him, towel shifting down with her upward movement, precariously close to falling and his eyes grow larger in fear.

Suddenly their positions are swapped and he's gazing up at her hovering over him, dark curtain of her hair tumbling over her shoulder and cocooning him. He aches to run his fingers through the locks.

"I don't want pity. But I do want your desire. You're looking at me like you want to eat me alive. Do it. Give me that."

His body constricts at the demanding request, shaking his head in arbitrary refusal, disregarding the heat and want that swells like a wave at her words.

"No. No... We shouldn't. I can't. Just go to sleep."

She brushes a hand through the wet fringe that frames his forehead, sliding through the wet locks, "You look delectable with your hair like this. I have to admit though, seeing you racing to come save me. I was quite smitten."

Pride unfurls in his chest.

Then she steals his breath.

The kiss isn't sudden or spontaneous, she smiles at him, a gorgeous smile that transforms her face from pretty to breathtaking, before she becomes to lean down, her eyes locked on his lips leaving no need for speculation. Her intentions couldn’t be clearer. 

He has ample time to move, reject her once again and only allow himself to have her in small manageable doses. Being around her is far more addicting than any drug.

He is too weak to follow through. 

The kiss is soft, softer than he expected from someone as unrestrained as her. Her hands are gentle on his face, caressing his cheeks as she presses her insistent lips into his. The kiss is nothing like he expected and thus it is perfect.

Just a kiss. He'll allow only one kiss. That should be enough to sate his hunger for her.

She starts to deepen the kiss, tongue poking at the tight seal of his mouth impatiently, then her fingers trail under his now slightly damp shirt, nails raking at the muscle that lays hidden, his mouth falls open at the new sensation. Wasting no time she licks into his mouth, moaning when she finally gets a taste of him. He suppresses an answering groan, light-headed as she overwhelms his sense, her scent and her taste coiling around him in an impenetrable wall.

He losses himself in the kiss, riding the high of finally tasting that mouth that has tormented him for too long. Letting her tongue swirl in his mouth, sinuously dancing with his own, until his lungs are burning .

When she begins to push his shirt further up his torso, baring his stomach, he jumps away from her touch and ultimately breaking their wet connection. Grabbing her wrists in his own shaking hands, he halts her movement, taking a deep measured breath.

"That's enough. I.... can't."

His control shudders at the sight of her above him, her eyes begin to slide open slowly as she falls back to earth, the passion that pours out from those eyes is enough to knock him off his high horse, her lips are kiss swollen and rosy wet, teasing him, tempting him. Her face is flushed as she pants, minty breath landing on his face with every exhale.

"Aren't you tired?" The tone of her voice is exasperated, at his bewildered expression she continues, "Of lying to yourself? Doesn't it get tiring never getting what you want?"

You're just a kid who wants to be loved.

I know you want to have fun.

She's the only one able to see right through him, reading him like he's an open book with pictures and startling him with her apt analysis, another reason he knows he should stay away from her, she will be his undoing, untimely demise.

"You want this. Tell me otherwise." She demands.

He wills his mouth to open and do what she says, deny his desires and sever this moment, the glint in her eyes informs him that this will be her final request, answer wisely.

He lays frozen, words lost in the jumble of his mind. Moving too fast for him to pluck them out and form a coherent sentence. Then she begins to move away, taking her delicious heat with her and his hand flies out instinctively, grabbing her towel covered waist his brain screaming no.

She stills, narrowed slits glaring down at him. Reading him again. Searching his face before she nods, "Okay. I'll take that control."

Slithering up his body, she catches his lips in another toe curling kiss, harder than before, all tongue and teeth, biting at his lip and demanding entry, he rushes to give it to her, weak at her passionate onslaught. This time he kisses back, wraps his tongue around hers and sucks, drunk on her flavor and ignoring the voice in his head that demands that he stop.

He feels her hands traveling up his chest, brushing on his nipples, before running up his arm and settling on his wrists, she lowers all her weight on him, knocking a shuddering breath from his overexerted lungs. The soft press of clothed breasts on his chest throwing his thoughts off kilter. In a flurry of movement, he feels her tug his wrist with both of her hands, something fuzzy curls around immobilizing him as his eyes snap open.

He pulls and meets resistance.

She draws away from him to watch his reaction, both of their eyes fixated on his wrist. He peers into the ceiling unable to look fully above his head and his pupils dilate as he sees what he already knew, felt on his skin.

Handcuffed.

Just as she promised she'd taken away his control.

A moan escapes his lips. She squirms in response to the sultry sound.

"I found something else when you were gone." She leans to the side of the bed, bending at the waist to retrieve something, rocking into his erection with the motion and he bites his tongue to contain his moan.

With an all knowing grin, she sits up grinding down into his hard length, throwing her head back, long hair whipping over her shoulder, wild and free.

He almost spills from that image, alone.

"Look." She offers what resembles a tiny remote with a cord connected to the bed, light vibrations start to buzz through the surface of the bed as she twists the dial.

The bed trembles and shakes beneath them rocking them along with the waves of vibrations.

"What are you going to do to me?" He whispers, fear and anticipation fighting for domination.

With a shark like grin she replies, "Take you apart and put you back together."

Immediately she sets off on her mission, openly appreciating his body, tongue dragging across her lips as she takes in the alluring vision of him at her mercy. He watches utterly captivated as she runs her hands up her own body, briefly pausing to mold her hands around her breasts, squeezing them and moaning deeply.

His mouth is arid dry, tongue turning to sandpaper at the seductive picture.

Then she tugs at the seal of the towel, loosening its hold, one strong pull is all that is necessary to have it tumbling off her body and cascading to the bed, baring every inch of her body to his ravenous eyes that dart from the soft swell of breasts down to the smooth mound of her naked sex.

Again, she takes herself in hand, pinching at her dark pebbled nipples, groaning at the pain before comforting herself with a gentle swipe of her thumb. His free hand cries out to join her in this endeavor.

"Touch me." Before the words have even settled in the air, she's capturing his free hand and bringing it to her chest, soft, hot, fuck, the only words left in his vocabulary as his hand becomes full of her. After a moment's hesitation, he squeezes the soft flesh in his hands, eyes locked on the tight furl of her nipple. His touch his soft, revered.

In absolute disbelief at the precious gift is he being given.

"Harder." His hand responds to her cry, tightening his hold and viciously tweaking her peak, eyes darkening at the way she rolls along his body, smearing her wetness across the plane of his stomach. He can feel her heady warmth sizzling on his skin, fingers longing to run through the drenched folds and tease her hidden jewel.

"Watch me." He falters at her words, grabbing her waist when she starts to slide off his body, wordlessly begging her to stay. She pushes his hand away smiling at his worry and dismay, laying flat on her back next to him, "Look at me." When he twists his head, wincing at the twinge from the pull of the hard metal on his wrist, he finds her eyes averted to the ceiling, he meets her eyes there.

Entranced as she slowly brings a finger to her mouth, lips wrapping around the digit, she opens her mouth showing him the way her tongue laps and soaks it, before pulling it out with a filthy wet pop. The finger trails down her body, pinching her nipples but their journey continues until they reach her center. He watches her reflection dazed as she uses two fingers to spread her lips open, bringing her feet flat on the bed to give him an optimal view. His heart beat skyrockets pounding in his chest as all the blood rushes to his cock.

With a deep seated moan, she takes two fingers and plunges into her wet center, her puffy lips giving away to the press, widening at the invasion. She shoves in until her fingers disappear into the depth, before dragging them out and fucking back deeply, her voice slices through the white noise sloshing in his brain.

"Gang-tae, I need you."

She fingers herself, in, out, in, out, eyes screwed shut from her pleasure.

He smacks her hand out of the way, control all but decimated, mashed to smithereens,before rubbing across her wet folds her moan setting him on fire before he mimics her movement, showing two fingers into the tight grip of her pussy. His rigid erection jumps at the thought of taking its place, her wet heat wrapping around him.

The vibration of the bed bounces her on his fingers, knocking her back on to his digits every time he withdraws. She bodily rides his hand, "More, more, more." He presses a third finger in, forcing her walls open sighing as the flesh gives under the pressure.

Ramming into her he watches her face twists in pleasure in the mirror, his own lust blown eyes greeting him as he watches her. She grabs her breasts, squeezing them as his fingers plunge into her steadily and powerfully.

Grabbing the reins of his desire he presses a fourth finger into her, his thumb accidentally rubbing across her clit and the most beautiful sight plays out in the mirror. Mun-yeong twists violently on the bed, bucking away from his fingers but he chases her, shoving the fingers back in and purposely massaging at her observing as she falls over the edge, orgasmic screams drawn from her mouth.

Her juices drown his fingers as she quakes apart on the bed, his eyes drink in the sensual sight of her fluttering lips around his soaked fingers.

He slowly drills into her lax hole, lost in her heat before she grabs his wrist. She takes three deep breaths, naked chest rising and laying before she turns towards him, eyes dancing.

"You're a fast learner." He reddens under her open praise. "Your turn."

His turn? She answers his wordless question by crawling into his space, and he's momentarily blinded by her beauty. Her face and body a work of art, all clean lines and soft curves, petite and tight. Her hand tugging at his pants drag him away from his musings.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh no more talking unless you're saying my name, asking for more or moaning. I already told you what I'm doing tonight."

Taking you apart and putting you back together.

He shudders at her words and then at her daring fingers, tugging his now unbuttoned and unzipped pants off his hip. The cold air slams into his overheated erection, doing nothing to change its stiffness or ardor.

"Beautiful." Dismissing his blush, she grabs him through the soft stretch of his boxers, stroking teasingly from root to tip. Watching a dark stain form at the tip as she massages the head.

She strokes him through the cloth a few more times, avidly tracking his face, "So handsome." She whispers it under her breath, clearly not intended for his ears and he heats up at the open awe in her voice.

Nothing could prepare him for the pleasure that overwhelms him when she extracts his length from its clothed prison. It stands at attention, thick and veiny in her hand, clear fluid pooling at the red tip and spilling down the sides.

The beds vibrations pushes his erection into her grip and he groans twisting his hips up, desperate for her touch. "I got you." The promise laced in her words cause his eyes to water, he's usually the protector no one has ever supported him, he rapidly blinks the tears away shame faced. 

She misses his emotional riposte, her eyes locked on his erection jutting out and almost too thick for her hand to circumvent fully.

Using both hands she strokes him, using the leaking fluid from gathering on his cock to ease her journey, he pants in response, "Please." His pleads fall from his lips, desperation annihilating any reservations that lingered, he's completely on board now watching her burst apart from his fingers ripping the last tendrils of control from his grasp.

She doesn't leave him wanting, eagerly bending her head to pop the tip of his erection into her mouth, lips curling around the tip and swallowing the liquid pooled there.

His toes curl as she hums at the first taste of him on her tongue, vibrations hitting him from both ends now, the bed and her mouth. His head spins from the new sensations, he has never felt anything like this, scarcely even finding comfort in his own hands. Hard to find moments alone while sharing a space with his brother.

She sucks him in ever deeper, his hand slams on the bed, handcuff forcing his body to pull taut as he tries to prevent himself from thrusting into her mouth. It's a fruitless battle, she slurps and bobs on his cock, dismantling him down to a molecular level. Every atom of his body is screaming her name, he doesn't notice when it falls from his tongue, "Ughhh Mun-yeong!"

His cries emboldens her, she loosens her mouth sinking the rest of the length down his erection until her lips are flush against the root. His eyes slam shut, spots bursting behind his closed eyelids, he thrusts up powerfully his cock slipping down her throat and euphoria batters at his brain.

He's powerless as he bursts apart, release shooting into her waiting mouth, expecting her to pull off he's further deconstructed as she happily hums, swallowing each drop as it explodes in her mouth.

The tight suction of her mouth is too much following his release and he weakly tries to pull free, his cock slides out of her mouth, with a final suck of his tip she lets him fall from her mouth.

"Delicious."

Her voice is raspy and rough, the tone causes his dick to twitch feebly.

He feels fatigue begin to form after his earth shaking orgasm, his first with someone else. His eyes drift close as he falls into a deep slumber. He's vaguely cognizant of a wet material wiping across his skin and a blanket being tugged over his now chilled body.

"Rest for now."

He obeys, sleeping finding him easily.

                               ********************************************    

She watches him sleep, peaceful for once, all the worries missing from his handsome face. Her body tingles in memory of what they've done. His fingers in her most intimate places, his cum thick and hot on her tongue, his salty flavor still lingering on her tongue. His orgasm had surprised her but it was a pleasant surprise, she had greedily taken everything he had to offer, hungry for more. 

His flaccid cock lays innocently on his thigh now, taunting her, it had been anything but innocent plundering her mouth earlier. She's been watching him sleep for a few minutes, a boom of thunder waking her from her slumber and she'd been unable to fall back into the sandman's clutches.

Instead she watched him sleep, taking in every delicious inch of his body, that gorgeous face with a chiseled jaw and wide inviting lips, his hair curled beautifully from the rain, the wide berth of his shoulders and the solid stretch of his chest which tampers into his narrow waist that is all set atop long thick thighs and legs.

His dick twitches and she glances up to see if he's awake, his eyes are moving rapidly beneath his closed lids, in the throes of a dream it appears.

"Must be a good dream." She ponders as his erection swells under her watchful gaze.

He thrusts up, handcuffs clanging at his sudden movement, as he starts to pump into the air. His lips falling open as he moans incoherently before she hears something that causes her to moisten, "Mun-yeong..."

He's dreaming of her. From the movement of his hips, it's apparent what fantasy he is living out, she shifts next to him, prepared to make it a reality.

Glancing up at the mirror, she ponders her next move before looking at him fucking the air and reaching a decision. She crawls over him, legs straddling his thighs her back to his front, her breasts jiggling in her reflection.

She grinds down onto his upward thrust, his tip catching on her moist folds, hands on his chest she presses back harder, letting his cock run through her wetness, moaning as the head rubs against her hidden bead.

She hears the moment he snaps back into reality, his hand immediately grabbing at her waist, she looks up into the mirror smiling at his glossy eyes that burn a hole in her face.

Before he can ask her asinine questions as he's wont to do, she reaches behind herself, firmly gripping his cock and leans her back onto his shoulder, he watches the stretch of her body as she puts herself on display for his pleasure.

With steady hands, she guides him to her opening, he can see everything in the reflection, her folds glistening as she presses the head in, his eyes slam shut at the feeling.

"Open your eyes. I want you to watch."

Her voice leaves no room for argument. He has no desire to.

He watches as his cock slowly disappears into her wet hole inch by inch, all of the air in his body suspended, she widens her stance as the fattest part of his length pulls at her walls before he feels her loosen and sink onto him, fully. He is drowning in the vision of his cock spearing into her tight heat, he might never breathe again.

The tightest vice around his length, borderline painful.

The continuous vibrations from the bed mildly rocks him into her, but after a pause she draws off, only the tip remaining before slamming back down onto him, the dual sensation of simultaneously watching her sink onto him and feeling her overloads his sense.

She rides him languidly, hips gyrating in dizzying circles as she undulates on his length, his arm shoots out to wrap across her flat stomach, pressing her incredibly closer to him, his abs rubbing against her back. Her back curves into his hold as she plants her feet harder into the bed, her hole spread wide as he pistons into her. Vivid obscene images reflected by the mirror, he can't look away.

He blindly finds her breasts, squeezing and groping at them in turns, pulling and pinching at the taut nipples.

"Gang-tae, harder, deeper." She demands, he rams up into her, length drilling into her spread hole, sinking deeper and deeper, slamming into her so hard that the echoes of his hips meeting her ass cheeks bounce off the walls.

"I'm too close.." He warns her, visages of his dream still plaguing his thoughts, he'd been lost in a fantasy, one of many wet dreams featuring the temptress wild in his arms. They'd been brutally fucking in the rain, cold raindrops sizzling off their skin as he pushed her over the handle of the bike and slammed into her over and over again. Her cries lost under the booming thunder that roared in the skies.

Pleasure beyond his knowledge had dragged him from that scintillating dream, only to be met by an equally enticing reality.

He woke up already on the edge, unprepared for her attack.

She begins to grind faster, reaching one hand down into the hidden depths of her center, rubbing at her clit in perfect synchronization with the motion of their fucking.

Grabbing her impossibly tighter he shoves up, pushing his cock as deep as it can go, her cries music to his ears, as he slams in out in out in out. Her walls clench around him, her fingers a flurry of rapid movement on her bead, he never slows down, driving deeper and faster, until wetness gushes out of her and coats him, her body bows tight into his hold. 

For the second time tonight, his brain oozes out of his dick. Hot load exploding into her depth as his eyes finally leave the mirror and screw close as he rides the wave of his second orgasm. Unable to fight it with her walls squeezing him and demanding that he fill them, fill her up with his cum. 

She collapses onto his body, milking the last drops of his release.

With a deep shuddering breath, she pulls off his softening length, rolling to her side of the bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, resembling a siren luring men to their doom.

"Wow."

He agrees, holy fuck wow.

Their eyes meet again in the mirror.

"You like watching." It's not a question so he doesn't deign it with a reply. They'd both seen first hand just how much he enjoyed watching.

"Aren't you full of surprises." She preens, slipping from the bed, comfortable in her nudity. His eyes follow her every movement, he could look at her forever.

She disappears for a moment after the flush of a toilet, reappearing with another wet towel, carefully cleaning him once more. It feels oddly intimate despite all they've done tonight, the lines between lust and affection blurring.

He attempts to turn onto his side before remembering the constraint on his wrist, he pulls at it before glancing at her.

"Take these off."

She blinks at him, "Oh. I didn't see a key."

He blinks owlishly in return, "What? You put this on before finding a key!" Voice raising an octave at the tail end of his question, disbelief furrowing his brows and dragging his lips into a hard line.

"I had to. You wouldn't have given in otherwise. It's your fault, you're too stubborn." She scoffs folding her arms defiantly, he tries his damnest not to ogle her naked breasts that are pushed up with the motion.

He fails spectacularly.

"I guess I could go to the front desk and ask for a spare key."

He thinks of her white dress, now transparent from the rain and then her standing in that little towel. Those are the only things she could wear to the front desk and the thought of her walking around in either of those options makes his blood boil. Especially remembering that piece of scum who had tried to assault her.

"No."

"Why not?" She stares at him in confusion.

"I said no." He doesn't elaborate, avoiding eye contact.

With a shrug she cuddles into his side, naked body warm against him.

"Okay I'll keep you locked up like my love slave. " He tries to glare at her but he can't muster up the energy, exhausted, shuffling until he finds a comfortable position with his arm locked over his head, it's not an easy feat but eventually he finds a spot.

Their eyes drift close, exertion catching up with them.

Rain pattering away on the window, thunder rumbling in the distance.

He feels movement next to his head and then a soft press against his lip, fleeting and gone as quickly as it came.

His heart stutters at the implications. He tries not to think, fearing the storm that is brewing between them.

Sleeps finds him unarmed, taking him to a land where they can be together. He dreads the morning knowing he'll have to push her away, erect the fortress that surrounds his heart once more.

He doesn't have the time or luxury to have what he wants.

Moonlight streams in through the window, illuminating the key that lies innocuously on the floor, hidden under their discarded clothes. 

[greyias]

FIC: By the Guidance of Stars - Chapter 10

Title: By the Guidance of Stars Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Humor Synopsis: The Coalition tries to heal in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin 4, but not every wound is physical. A series of missing scenes set during the end of Shadow of Revan. Author’s Note: It’s been a long time since you saw this header... eh? Thanks to TheWIPProject2019 I’m trying to get this beasty finished up before the end of the month. And we’re close! So close! Also, I feel the need to point out again that certain viewpoint characters do not necessarily reflect my own views, etc, etc. Just trying to stick to what’s portrayed in canon. Warnings: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Crossposted to AO3

The sun and the gas giant rose on the horizon as morning wore on, their duel for dominance cranking up the humidity into an uncomfortable swelter that he was becoming unfortunately familiar with. After the debrief with Saresh, Theron had retreated further into the canopy under the guise of helping with departure preparations. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was cooler there, but it was a little less miserable than baking out under the sun.

Of course, there were several things that needed to be done before their withdrawal from the planet, but his motivations weren’t exactly selfless. After the meeting had wrapped, Lana came by to bid her Republic counterparts farewell, and Theron hadn’t felt the need to stick around and chat. He’d never been particularly talented at saying goodbye when he was on the best of terms with people — and things with Lana were… complicated. 

Prior to his capture at the hands of the Revanites, there had been this queer sort of understanding between them. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it blind trust — but they’d had each others’ backs during their long exile. Partners in crime, if only by necessity rather than choice. They’d built a familiar rapport that to an outsider might mistake them for actual friends. And yet traditional friendships didn’t involve getting each other tortured by the enemy—although maybe they’d never really been so much as friends. Just temporary allies stuck together for an extended period of time. 

It was probably Theron’s own fault for forgetting that.

After his escape from the Revanites, he hadn’t been able to completely ignore that itchy feeling of unease that settled between his shoulder blades when she was around. On some rational level, he knew it wasn’t fair to Lana that he would get a flash of a dark room deep in an underground Rishi compound. It wasn’t really her fault that he felt pressure building in his skull at the memory of forceful mind probes, or for a moment only hearing the ragged echo of his own screams reverberating in a small cramped room. All of that would eventually go away in time, he knew. It wasn’t utterly rational for him to hold a grudge — but then again, Theron had never really been accused of being a paragon of rationality.

So he’d kept his final interaction with her as short as humanly possible, which may have meant that he’d come off a little more terse than he’d intended if Kira’s arched brow at him was any indication. He’d felt a little pride in being able to be mostly civil with Lana during the whole thing, so he’d ignored the Jedi’s silent admonishments. He was less successful in ignoring the ugly feeling bubbling in his gut at leaving Grey alone with Lana to talk. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was concern. It was too difficult to untangle at this point, and he honestly didn’t care as long as he just got himself as far away from the awkward situation as possible.

So he’d made himself useful instead. Satele had given him a manifest of several shuttles on the ground that needed preflight checks. That was the pretense anyway. What they’d really needed was a thorough sweep for bugs, tracking devices, and any other nasty surprises before docking with the Dauntless and getting back into Republic space. Just because there was a temporary truce when it came to the remaining Revanites and the search for Vitiate didn’t mean that they had to blindly trust the Imperials. After all, if it had occurred to Theron to try and use the opportunity to gain extra intel while both sides were together, he was fairly certain the same thing had occurred to the Imps.

He hadn’t really found anything noteworthy or surprising — except for just one interesting thing. The last shuttle on the list had been assigned to him as part of his reinstatement with the SIS. A ship with a very familiar name and registry — Sojourner. 

It was standard procedure for the government-owned property of any rogue intelligence agents to be confiscated, inspected, and then reappropriated as needed. That wasn’t the weird part — just another uncomfortable reminder of how much Theron had to straighten out once he got back to Coruscant. No, the weird thing was how his ship had wound up in Satele’s possession.

It was very possible that it was pure coincidence. Wartime led to a lot of organized chaos, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary for assets to be reassigned where they were needed most. It was also possible that Satele had somehow managed to arrange the transfer of his shuttle to her fleet. But there was no reason for her to do that. They weren’t exactly close and she would had to have some sort of motivation to put forth the effort. Like realizing the charges leveled against him were trumped up and had held onto something for him until his name was cleared. But that implied some amount of faith in him, both in his character and his abilities. And that just… he didn’t really know what to do with that.

As his hand brushed over the familiar hull, a rush of memories and emotions washing over him, he decided that maybe the could analyze the implications and the coincidences later. For now he was just happy to have something of his own back again. Well, technically it was still Republic property. But possession was nine-tenths of the law, as the saying went.

The crunch of heavy boots in the underbrush roused him from his thoughts, and he glanced up from his datapad to see Grey making her way through the jungle. A quick glance at the chrono let him know that the morning had worn on longer than he’d realized — and that their time here on Yavin was growing to a close. An uncomfortable feeling rose in his chest at that thought, and he did his best to ignore it.

“So, I see you found me,” he said by way of greeting.

“You managed to discover a good hiding spot,” she commented lightly, her tone almost teasing.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” He tossed back, tapping out a few last commands into the datapad before stowing it away. 

She gave a little shrug, still with that half smile. “Well, you’re off here on your own. I thought you just hated packing.”

“Well, packing is the worst,” he agreed, “although I’m not hiding from it.”

She quirked a brow. “Hiding from something else then?”

“You don’t give up easily, do you?”

The teasing grin faded into a gentler smile. “You disappeared pretty quickly earlier. I wasn’t sure…”

It probably was a little wishful thinking that his quick exit earlier would have been completely ignored and forgotten. He swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape and wondered if it was worth the attempt to bluff his way out this conversation. Their time here on Yavin was almost up — and there were far better ways to spend it than debating about Lana Beniko.

“Satele needed help with departure prep.” That earned an arched brow in disbelief, and he felt his bottled up sigh escaping before mumbling, “And maybe I also thought things might be a little less awkward without me there.”

Her face didn’t exactly fall but her eyes dropped to the ground, lips pressing together. He did his best to ignore the pang in his gut that made him want to take back the moment of honesty. It really wasn’t fair that she could twist his insides up with just a look.

“I had hoped that we could all part as friends, but… I understand your feelings about Lana right now,” she said after a moment, “and it would be wrong for someone to tell you that you have no right to them.”

He was fairly certain she didn’t understand all of his complicated feelings regarding their Sith ally, or soon-to-be former ally rather. He didn’t exactly have it all sorted out himself — but it was a nice change of pace that he didn’t have to argue about his feelings.

“It’s less that, and more… giving you space.” There was a little more hesitation in his reply than he would have let others’ hear — but then again, taking this sort of care in a conversation was also a bit of new territory for him. At her quirked brow, he added, “You and Lana have a little bit of a different dynamic. It’s not my place to impose.”

His words were genuine, if a little grudgingly uttered. He wasn’t sure exactly how right Kira had been about everything — but she had a point about him trusting the woman in front of him. It was not something he afforded to many people, but this particular Jedi had earned his at the very least.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Grey said, her lips twitching at the hints of a smile, “but you didn’t have to go so far.”

Theron shrugged lightly. “You know my motto: go big or go home.”

“I did not realize you had codified that particular impulse into a motto.” Her quirked lips quivered a little, as if she was suppressing a grin.

“Impulse?” He asked with mock indigence. “Are you suggesting that I don’t think through everything I do?”

That got the grin to emerge as she let out a snort that was very undignified for a Jedi Master, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe just the smallest of suggestions.”

His harumph was half-hearted at best, but it earned a snicker, and more importantly, moved them away from the awkward topic. Of course, they still hadn’t addressed the bantha in the room, which was the one thing he’d been avoiding thinking about as much as possible. Which was that the time for their own parting was rapidly drawing nearer. Part of him just wanted to keep up the teasing, maybe see exactly how loud and undignified he could make her snort. It was almost tempting to just keep things light and happy and not even bring up the fact that this could be the last time they saw each other — at least for a long while. However, it was probably better in the long run to just rip off the kolto patch now and not draw this out any longer.

“So, this is it, huh?”

Her mirth evaporated as she caught onto his meaning and she gave a small nod. “I suppose… I suppose it is.”

“It’s been quite a ride, hasn’t it?” He added. “I mean, it’s not every day you dismantle a galactic conspiracy and save both the Republic and the Empire from destruction.”

“Not every day,” she allowed, “and not necessarily all at once.”

Oh. Right. He almost forgot who he was talking to. Theron made a living working in the shadows, but even after all the time they’d work together he hadn’t quite gotten used to standing in the long one she cast. “Brag, brag, brag.”

“I’m not bragging,” she insisted quickly, “or trying to undercut your accomplishments — it is a very good thing we did here, Theron.”

Oh stars, she was just so… so… he didn’t even know, just that he was going to miss this too. Even if it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable far more than he ever wanted to. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I’m kidding,” he said, only letting her linger in the flustered state for a few moments, “and if we’re being honest you did most of the hard work.”

“Do not discount your own contributions.”

“I’m not,” he assured her, “I’m just giving credit where it’s due.”

“You deserve just as much credit,” she said firmly.

“Well, I mean, I did get my old job back,” Theron said, “so it’s not like it all went unnoticed.”

“Well good,” she gave a small huff, “the Republic and the SIS are very lucky to have as dedicated and talented an agent as you.”

“Can I get a recording of that to play back for the director?” he joked.

“Certainly. Where is your recorder?”

From the look in her eye and tone of her voice, he wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. The mental image of her facing off with Marcus Trant was an amusing one. Jedi overachiever versus the Republic’s chief spy — it would certainly be quite the show. Not that Theron really needed any extra help with someone singing his praises, and definitely not from his, uh… his…

Okay, they didn’t really have any definitions right now for whatever this thing was. That was fine. Suited him perfectly really. Definitions were muddy and confusing and just made a mess of things anyway. That was probably part of what had tripped him up in the past. Well, that and working too much. Not that he was going to stop that. The working part. He had things to do. Besides, it was better to just go with the flow and see where the moment took them and—

“So what’s next for you?” she asked. The way she was tilting her head slightly at him in confusion said that perhaps his utter mental derailment over the state of their not-relationship may have not gone entirely unnoticed.

He cleared his throat, trying to refocus back on the present. “Coruscant. Have to debrief officially, do some paperwork. Boring stuff really. You?”

“I must admit, I don’t exactly know. I will have to report back to the Jedi Council and see where they want to send me next.” A frown of stole across her face as she gave the matter further thought. “I… did not exactly ask for permission to head to Rishi. That will take a little bit of explanation.”

He almost teased her for the flagrant rule breaking and broach of protocol, but a memory of the previous night resurfaced and quashed the impulse just as quickly. “Well, at least you had the Grand Master with you for the latter half of this whole mess. That should help.”

“Yes,” Grey said, “I am certain she will help straighten everything out.” 

“You know, I think she just might.” 

The words escaped him without much thought, which surprised him a little. Apparently they did the other participant of the conversation as well because her eyebrows raised a little in surprise, but she didn’t comment directly. 

He gave a half shrug, trying to recover his footing. “I mean. You are her favorite.”

“Theron, she cares just as much—”

“It’s a joke,” he cut her off, perhaps too quickly, before he could hear whether she was about to argue in favor of Satele’s impartiality when it came to her fellow Jedi or if the statement was going to be a little more familial in nature.

The frown returned in full, her hands settling on her hips as she fixed him with a look for his rude interruption. “I am not trying to intervene or insert myself where I do not belong, but… she does care. Even if it’s not shown in the same way everyone else does.”

Theron’s gaze drifted down to the lightsabers clipped at Grey’s belt and then back to his shuttle, an odd feeling bubbling up in chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just a really confusing one. Something he had no idea what to do with and he let out a long sigh, hand unconsciously drifting to the back of his neck to rub at an invisible itch. “Yeah, maybe… I mean… it’s just weird for me.”

Her frown melted away into a contrite look and she cautiously laid a hand on his. “I apologize. That was not my place to speak on.”

“It’s okay,” he said after a moment, giving a quick glance to their surroundings before adjusting his hand so that he could thread his fingers through hers. “Just one of those things. Not sure if I’ll ever get used to it — at least with her.”

That didn’t seem to particularly mollify her, so he added after a moment’s hesitation. “But can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“After everything that’s happened lately, I’ve been starting to wonder if you might be right. About… that. And maybe a few other things.”

The apologetic expression gave way to a genuine smile that was almost blinding in its intensity and almost made up completely for the awkward conversation. Well, and her close proximity definitely didn’t hurt.

He did another quick scan of their surroundings and a readout flashed on the HUD in his ocular implants, letting him know that the area around them was completely clear of onlookers. So he stepped in even closer and dropped his voice an octave as he gave her fingers a squeeze. “You know, it’s kind of funny.”

“What is?”

“Everyone knows you as this famous Jedi — and yet no one knows just how amazing you are.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he punctuated his words with another squeeze of his fingers, and followed it up by cupping her face with his other hand so she couldn’t look away. “Sure I mean, you can swing around a lightsaber like nobody’s business, but you also make a pretty damn good spy and saboteur.”

“I would not call those my strengths,” she said, “I am only as good as those supporting me.”

He hummed softly in consideration. “So you’re saying you had a pretty good partner then?”

“The best.”

“Sounds like a pretty lucky guy to me,” Theron mused, “although I’m pretty sure he can’t do nearly as good a pirate impression as you.”

She flushed at the mention of her cover identity back on Rishi. “I was just trying to get into character. For the mission.”

“You got very into character if I remember correctly.” He grinned as the color in her cheeks darkened. “Complete with a very ridiculous pirate outfit.”

“It’s not ridiculous!” she insisted. “It’s… historically accurate.”

“You had an ornamental eyepatch,” he pointed out. “What did you wind up doing with that thing anyway?”

“It’s on the ship.” She gave him a look. “Why? Do you want me to go and get it?”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“Later?”

 “I’ve got a different idea on what we could be doing with our time.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, watching the way her breath hitched ever so slightly with motion. “If you think you’re up for it.”

This close up, he could see her entire thought process as she worked through the innuendo and invitation. A subtle furrowing of the brow in brief puzzlement, before her eyes widened ever so slightly in realization, and her cheeks flushed even darker than before. Then she was looping her arms around his neck, leaning in for a long, slow kiss filled with desire and promises of much more.

As she pulled away, she looked up at him with those big blue eyes. “Something like that?”

“It’s a good start.” He grinned back at her, one hand going around her waist as he pulled her in even closer. “Why don’t we move to somewhere a little more private?”

Her return kiss was answer in itself.

[profoundnet]

Profound Member Post - June 2019

Header by @cryptomoon​​​ and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirely during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR JUNE 2019!

Masterpost below the cut.

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160​ - MaggieMaybe160

Say Yes

Endverse!Dean's life is going pretty well with Endverse!Cas until Dean's past self shows up. A look at the episode "The End" from Season 5 from Endverse!Dean's point of view.

Tags: Canon Major Character Death

SFW

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CR Noble - @cr-noble-writes​ - CR Noble

Truth or Dare

Truth or Dare seemed like a good way to pass the time until they had to go after Lucifer. After everyone else fell asleep, the game turns naughty between Dean and Castiel. Created for the Lusty Lexis and SPN Kink bingo challenges

Tags: canon-compliant, first time, pwp, top!cas, bottom!dean

NSFW

Falling Apart

Sword & Cross Resident Rehabilitation is a last-ditch effort for Dean Winchester to move past the drug and drinking problems he developed to bury his guilt over the fire that killed his brother. Not to mention the wild visions and smoky, sentient shadows that have plagued him his entire life. It's supposed to be the best Savannah has to offer, but one look at the crumbling tile floors and dangling crown mouldings, and Dean has his doubts. Enter Castiel Novak. He’s rude, aloof, and a total dick from the moment they lay eyes on each other but Dean can’t help but feel a mysterious connection to the man. Maybe he really has lost his mind. But when Castiel starts making appearances in Dean’s vivid visions of the past, he knows there is more to their link than meets the eye. Even if Cas keeps telling him otherwise. It seems everyone at Sword & Cross knows what’s going on except for Dean. Trying to conquer his mountain of guilt and doubt and figure out the connection he is certain he shares with Castiel is only made harder by the “accidents” that seem to follow him. Not to mention his attraction to Gadreel. Whatever secret Castiel is trying so hard to keep, Dean knows he has to uncover it. Written for SPN Movie Big Bang 2019

Tags: past Dean/Lucifer, Dean/Gadreel, rehab au, flashbacks, vivid dreams, ptsd, minor character death, sam is dead when fic starts, slow burn, suicidal ideation

SFW

Washed Up Souls

Castiel has wandered the Earth for millennia, hiding from Heaven and looking for a soulmate he shouldn’t have. All he has to go on is the phrase written on his forearm: the last thing he’ll hear his soulmate say before they die. He’s living as a human on the outskirts of New Orleans when Hurricane Katrina hits and he hears that phrase in a prayer. Dean Winchester never bothered searching for his soulmate. Then, after a hunt, he wakes up in a strange bed with a serious wound and no recollection of how he got there. And there’s a strange, but really attractive, guy taking care of him. As the days pass and the two men learn more about each other, Castiel realizes his feelings for Dean. But what will it take for Dean to admit his own feelings for Cas? Written for the Dean Cas Reverse Bang 2019

Tags: temporary MCD, soulmate au, openly bi dean, demi cas, canon-divergent pre pilot, hurrican katrina, major character injury

SFW

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LeafZelindor - @leafzelindor

Art for “Beyond”

Art created for the SPN movie bang fic "Beyond"

Tags: Destiel, AU, Star Trek

SFW

Created for @snarkysnartes fic Beyond. 

Profound Prose - Pride

Pride picture done for Profound Poses. Wings all around.

Tags: destiel, pride

SFW

Art post for "Don't Be So Charming"

My contribution to Pie Darling's SpN movie bang fic "Don't be so Charming" 

Tags: Destiel, AU

SFW

Made for PieDarling’s fic “Don’t be so Charming”

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weldersmightyb - @weldersmightyb - weldersmightyb

Hurts So Good

Part of Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2019 - Fic in Response to Anyrei's wonderful art! What will happen when Dean and Cas are both human and in bad places in their lives? Through the pining, angst, tears, and happiness, Dean tries to heal Cas, but Cas does just as much for Dean when they both give into the desires that have been ignored for far too long. Follow them through their stupid pining, a cute mini-case where Cas becomes a rock god, and so much pain. Trust me, the journey will be worth the tears.

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, Hospitalisation, Dean Winchester Whump, Rock Star Castiel (Supernatural), Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending 

NSFW

Written for the DCRB in response to @anyreiart ‘s art.

Three Men and a Baby. Well, Two Men, an Angel, an Archnephilim, an Archangel, a Witch, and a Baby, But Who's Counting Anymore?

Spells make Dean nervous. That's just common knowledge. Especially when they make Cas drop to the ground unconscious. But once Gabriel shows up with more information, Dean has to question whether this spell is actually a bad thing. A quick ficlet in response to kuwlshadow's wonderful art.

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, Mpreg but not really, Alternate Season/Series 14, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), Gabriel Joins Team Free Will (Supernatural), Rowena too, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester

SFW

Written for the DCRB in response to @kuwlshadow‘s art. 

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JessJessTheBest - @saywhatjessie - JessJessTheBest

Bold Defiance 

“You, Bold Defiance?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You are so predictable.” Castiel had been operating as ‘Bold Defiance,’ evil super-villain, for most of his life. It was the same thing, day after day: scheming, magicking, and getting inevitably foiled by The Guardian: the city’s acting superhero and Castiel’s childhood rival, Anna. It was a comfortable if not altogether productive routine. The periodic kidnapping of journalist, Dean Winchester, didn’t hurt. But what happens when one side actually wins? What does a person do when the person who opposed them, the person who defined them, is gone?

Tags: wing!fic, superhero au, Technically an alien au, journalist!dean, character death but not really, arcane magic, Jack being cute, an extreme indictment of the prison system

SFW

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Jdragon122 - @jdragon122 - Jdragon122

Art for “Giant, Anguish, Danger”

Art for SPN Movie Big Bang

Tags: jdragonart, the ritual movie, horror monster, blood, malmuses, horror fic, spn fan art

SFW

Made for @malmuses fic “Giant, Anguish, Danger”

DCRB - Sea Serpahim 

Art for the Dean Cas Reverse Bang 2019

Tags: creature!cas, marine biologist!dean, jdragonart, dcrb, supernatural, spn fanart, castiel, dean winchester

SFW 

In collaboration with @saltnhalo (fic)

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nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Scribere Jussit Amor 

When a case involving angels pops up, Sam needs a book from Cas' room and asks Dean to get it. After a quick phone call with Cas, and making sure he has the red book, written purely in Enochian, Dean's sure the brothers are ready to go. Except, Sam has now translated Cas' journal, leaving Dean to face some very harsh truths when it comes to a particular Angel of the Lord.

Tags: canon fic, diary/journal fic, canon temporary MCD, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Alternating, implied/referenced alcohol abuse, implied/referenced suicide attempt, Sam Ships It

SFW

Made for the DeanCas Reversebang with art by @dmsilvisart

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SoloArcana - @soloarcana - SoloArcana

Sassy Castiel Vacations

The first time it happened, it took Castiel 34 hours to get back to the bunker. The second and third times took half that. By the fourth time, he thought it was time to teach Dean a lesson. Castiel stayed gone for a week. When he walked back into the bunker, Dean met him at the foot of the stairs. "Where the hell have you been, Cas?"

Tags: Dean's Daisy Dukes, Crop Top Dean, Inspired by Tumblr, Snark, Glitter, No major archive/trigger warnings

SFW

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phoenix_michie - phoenix-michie

Run To Him

Being a sheriff is all Dean Winchester has ever wanted. He loves his job, the town, and the people living in it. When a new guy moves into the neighborhood, Dean’s beloved townspeople are quick to talk and the rumors start to spread. As a new substitute teacher at the local High School, Castiel Novak attracts not only the attention of his neighbors, but also of the parents and the kids at the school. As complaints start to pour in at the station, Dean dutifully deals with them—and with Castiel, not knowing that this man is only trying to find his peace and quiet, trying to escape his past, but leading it right into Dean’s town.

Tags: Past Castiel/April Kelly, Sheriff Dean Winchester, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Stalking

NSFW 

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insomnia - insomnia 

The Colour of Black

Dean Winchester wakes up in hospital bruised, broken and mostly blind with little memory of how he ended up there. To the people he saved he's a hero, to none more so than the dorky guy with the amazing voice who visits every day and doesn't seem to want to leave.

Tags: AU - Soulmates, Pseudoscience, Injured Dean Winchester, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Fluff, Falling in Love, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Meetings

SFW

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Wargurl83 - @wargurl83 - wargurl83 (Pillowfort)

HUMANS ARE WEIRD, A Space-Pack Bonding Story

Humans have made it to the stars, and they really will pack bond with anything. This is the story of how Dean built his own little family in space. Written for the 2019 Dean/Cas Reverse Bang.

Tags: Destiel in space, Humans Are Weird, Humans will pack-bond anything, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction

SFW 

A Symphony of Flavors 

Master Chef Castiel Novak likes his life ordered. Controlled. Sensible. He's an Alpha with no mate and no hope of finding one. His life is turned upside down with the death of his sister and taking guardianship of his nine-year-old niece, Claire. Add to that, there's a new sous chef taking up space in his very orderly kitchen with his loud music and brash attitude, and for some reason Castiel just can't take his eyes off him. Dean Winchester loves to cook, love his mom, and loves kids. His goal has been to work with Chef Novak for as long as he's been in Kansas City. What he wasn’t prepared for was an Alpha all of his own…

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chefs, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Verse

Made in collaboration with @foxymoley‘s art

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Darmys - @darmysasagiri - Darmys 

Gone in 60 Seconds

Convinced by his mother walk away from his life, and save his younger brother, Dean left Seattle six years ago. Only to be told on a Monday, Sam’s taken a job from Richard Roman: Local stolen-car broker, and all-round bad guy. And Sam’s fumbled the job. Now Dean has until 8am Friday morning to get 50 high-end cars on a container ship, or Roman will kill Sam. Starring: Dean Winchester as Memphis Raines Sam Winchester as Kip Raines and Baby as Eleanor.

Tags: AU-Movie, Referenced Cas/Others, Cars, Fast Cars, Stealing Fast Cars, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, Cole Dies, Bad Language, SPNMBB 2019

SFW

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supernatural9917 

Boy Next Door

Castiel's hot, young, new neighbour is going to drive him crazy... Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square fill: Getting caught

Tags: Twink Dean Winchester, Older Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Dean is a Tease, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Age Difference

NSFW

In Flagrante Delicto

Cas gets home earlier than expected and catches Dean enjoying himself to a familiar video... A Red Carpet Chronicles Timestamp, and also fills the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018 square: Making a sex tape.

Tags: Red Carpet Chronicles, Alternate Universe - Actors, Masturbation, Castiel catches Dean during his alone time, Dean doesn't mind, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester

NSFW

Made in collaboration with @delicious-irony

Riteousness Rides Agayn: the Further Adventures of the Riteous man and his Avenging Angel

Infamous highwaymen The Riteous Man and The Avenging Angel are better known to their neighbours as brothers Daniel and Castor Smith, and to their friends as secret lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak. After recovering from a near-fatal accident, Dean is ready to ride again, and their target is the wealthy and cruel Lord Talbot. With a bit of help from their friends, blacksmith Benny Lafitte and grocer Gabriel Speight, The Riteous Man and The Avenging Angel will ride again.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Restoration England, Highwaymen, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2019

NSFW

Made in collaboration with @pimentogirl

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NadiaHart - @hartlessfiction - NadiaHart

Soother

Dean’s been a regular Soother at the maternity ward in Brodstone Memorial Hospital for a few years now. He comes in late, after work; after dinner and dessert been served and put away. After everyone's asleep and no one can ask probing, annoying, little brother-esque questions about what he’s doing and why he’s given up on finding his own mate–his own pack. He likes it, volunteering at the hospital, where’s he’s needed, it soothes something inside of him. He sincerely hopes that he's helping these pups just as much as they're helping him. And right now, that’s all he’s willing to ask for.

Tags: Alpha!Cas, Omega!Dean, meet-cute, True-mates, fluff, scents.

SFW

Art for Anarchy 

Artwork for Anarchy- a DCRB fiction by NeonBat

Tags: Shirtless Cage Fighter Dean Winchester. SFW

Made in collaboration with @neonbat666‘s fic

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thatpeculiarone - @ilovetodreamx - thatpeculiarone

Disambiguation 

It happened in a split second.

One minute, Dean was looking at him - the next, he was on the floor a few feet away.

Dean is attacked by a witch on a hunt, causing him to fall comatose and his memories to be erased. Dean spends his time unconscious reliving his life, building memories back together and seeing things from a new perspective. Meanwhile, Cas and Sam race the clock in order to try and save Dean, with many dead ends along the way. As time begins to run out, Cas realises it may be too late for him to tell Dean how he truly feels.

Cue: An angsty two-weeks in the Men of Letters bunker.

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Witchcraft, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memory Loss, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt/Comfort.

SFW

Made in collaboration with @pallasperilous‘s art! 

[jennifersylvesters]

ring ring ( prologue )

Pairing: flower shop owner!Chris Evans x coffee shop manager!reader Word Count: ~2.9k A/N: i just really wanted soft!chris evans / potentially soft!sebastian stan - so i made it lmao. secret admirers and soft men? that’s what i’m going for fam. i’ll admit that it’s a bit slow, but i promise it’ll get to a better pace in the next part. also i’ll probably make a proper header for the upcoming parts. feedback is always appreciated/loved aka i’d probably cry if you gave it to me

While many trudge through the vicious cycle of mornings, struggling to fully stay awake on their commute to school or work, they forget about those who wake up earlier than them to provide their much needed coffee. Forgotten are the unsung heroes who wake up before dawn to help satisfy the caffeine craving. Yet it was a position you proudly took on as manager of The Cozy Cup Café, a small yet charming coffee shop. 

You never would’ve imagined staying on for as long as you had. “This is only temporary” you told yourself heading into the interview. But something about the cozy environment and your fellow baristas made you stay on and eventually become manager. 

At this point in your life, The Cozy Cup Café felt like home to you. Everyone knew you and vice versa. You enjoyed chatting with your regulars, checking up on their family members and how their life was going. You liked helping new customers with choosing drinks, recommending your favorites and taking delight when they enjoyed it as well. In your down time you joked with the rest of the crew, finding a perfect balance between work and relax. 

Of course like any job there were certain downsides that came along. Often times the rude customers made difficult mornings into dreadful ones. There were those who tested your patience, making you sometimes wish you could snap back at them. One woman in particular always made you grind your gears from the first moment you met her. 

It had been a brisk February morning with a steady line forming at the till. People murmured out their orders to you, proceeding with the typical polite casualness. You didn’t expect much from most people, understanding the struggle of waking up. Then there was her. Right as you were about to chirp out a polite greeting and ask how she was doing, she immediately cut you off. 

“Venti, quad, soy, light foam latte with one packet of Splenda. For Scarlett” the woman announced, eyes refusing to look up from her phone as she rapidly typed on the screen. It was off-putting to have someone throw their order so bluntly at you, but you quickly scribbled down her order before setting it down for the barista to work on. 

A couple minutes later as you hopped on to help make drinks, you saw out of the corner of your eye the blonde woman staring you down as she drummed her fingers on the counter. A part of you wanted to ignore it, just pretend you didn’t see her so she would eventually leave. But the stare bore into you, forcing you to finally acknowledge her. 

“You spelled my name wrong.” She held out her cup for you to inspect, visibly irritated. Even after politely apologizing, she continued to glare at you. “How hard is it for you to spell Scarlett? It’s literally not that difficult. How did you mess that up?” Getting yelled at about misspelling was new territory for you. You apologized repeatedly but to no avail; she sent you one final dirty look before huffing away. It only seemed natural to assume she had no plans of returning to the establishment. 

Oh, how wrong you would be. Instead Scarlett chose to become a regular. You dreaded the minute it turned seven forty-five knowing she’d come in most days, always irritatedly tapping her Louboutins behind the slower customers. No matter how hard you tried, she never showed any attempt of consideration towards you or the other workers. Nothing seemed to please her. 

“There’s too much foam” she would snap, placing the coffee on the counter ledge before shoving in your direction. 

“Ugh, this is too sweet” she would spit out, making a face. 

“Did you drop the shot?” she would chastise you. “You must’ve dropped the shot or else why would this be so disgusting and bitter?” Perhaps to match her soul. 

Of course you’d hold your tongue, politely apologizing and redoing her order. It almost was a given at this point that you would need to remake her drink any time she came in. 

Certain regulars like her made you wonder why they visited The Cozy Cup if they constantly seemed displeased. Sure the coffee was good, but was it really that addictive that they needed to bring their negative energy to your shop? Apparently so. 

You couldn’t help but question why a fellow named Sebastian frequented the cafe as well. You initially swooned when he stepped foot into the shop. Every so often you saw him around town, knowing he owned the bar down the street. But just as quickly as your attraction came, it promptly dissipated with his curt attitude. Of course it never deterred you from trying to remain friendly. You would ask about his bar or how his day was going, hoping for just a bit of rapport. It seemed nearly impossible to have any connection with him seeing as questions were always received with one word responses and his eyes usually avoided yours.

Despite his quiet and gruff demeanor, you could sense his kindness. The smallest gestures proved it: from how he always tipped generously before heading out to cleaning up the sugar and milk counter even though it wasn’t necessary. 

Whenever his friends would join him on the coffee excursions, he seemed to tense up more than usual. Yet you knew he was a selective man and that he wouldn’t have brought them around unless he truly enjoyed their company. You liked his friend Anthony who always cracked jokes and made you laugh. His friend Tom was always polite with you, often asking about your day and how you were doing. When he casually mentioned how lovely you looked, you couldn’t help but blush. He complimented you frequently whenever he stopped by, which always prompted Sebastian to lightly shove him and tell him to knock it off. 

It was in those moments when you would finally make eye contact with Sebastian. There was always a look of concern, making sure his friend wasn’t overstepping boundaries. All it took was a simple nod for him to understand the flirtation hadn’t upset you. With that he would yank his friends out of The Cozy Cup, making you curious about the terse bartender.

For all its ups and downs, you loved your job. There was one part you looked forward to most, knowing it was quite unique. While most of your fellow baristas looked forward to their days off, you couldn’t wait for Wednesday afternoon to roll around. 

Every week like clockwork, the doors chimed and a bouquet of flowers arrived for you. A note would be attached along with the flowers, often singing affectionate praises and adoration. This sweet and constant gift sent your heart fluttering, making you wish you knew who your secret admirer was. 

The first time it occurred, it completely caught you off guard. “These are for you” the delivery man announced proudly, handing a bouquet of lavender roses. You blinked as you slowly took the flowers into your arms. There were more than two dozen, delicate ribbon tied on the ends. A small, pink note was tucked in the center with your name written in calligraphy. Pulling the note out, your face flushed when you realized it was a love letter. The note wasn’t long, but it was enough to overwhelm you. 

You quickly thanked the delivery man before sitting down to fully process what happened. Someone customized a special delivery just to tell you how special you were? The gesture was thoughtful and romantic, something you never expected to happen. As happy as you were, you assumed it was a fluke and that it wouldn’t occur again.

When a bouquet of pink and white gerbera daisies were delivered the next week, your face reddened like mad in front of the customers. So this wasn’t just a one time deal. You took them from the delivery man, spinning on your heels and heading to the back. Once out of sight, you buried your head in the flowers overwhelmed at how beautiful they were. As the weeks progressed, you begun looking forward to Wednesday afternoons and the sweet promises of flowers and loving words.

One of the best parts of these flower arrangements was who delivered the bouquets. Of course he wasn’t just the delivery man but the owner of the flower shop. The first time he stepped inside the cafe and introduced himself as Chris, nerves took over and all you could do was politely nod. Now you spoke to him with ease, but your excitement whenever he came in never faded. 

Even before the deliveries you often saw Chris around. Whenever business was slow, all you had to do was look up and across the street to see him occupied with his orders and arrangements. You would watch him burst into laughter at something one of his workers said, throwing a hand on his chest, as if he could barely contain his happiness. It made you wonder what his laugh sounded like, what it would be like to hear him laugh at jokes you made. You never met the beautiful man who owned the flower shop until he came in personally to deliver the bouquets to you. 

Lizzie, one of the baristas and one of your best friends, always playfully teased you once Chris left. “Which thing are you more excited for: the flowers or the man bringing them?” she’d ask. You’d roll your eyes at the question knowing full well that you enjoyed both. Why would you ever need to choose one over the other? But sometimes you couldn’t help but tiptoe over the line of wanting Chris’s company over the flowers. 

It became a weekly occurrence that he would stick around after the delivery, simply chatting with you while sipping on a cup of coffee. He spoke about his family and how much he adored their visits. He loved talking about his dog, which he often showed you multiple photos of the sweet creature. “You’d love him” he swore. If he was just as sweet as his owner, you were sure you’d get along well. Sometimes you wished that the conversations would last longer, but you knew he needed to return back to his business and you needed to help other customers.   

As Wednesday rolled around, you anxiously waited for the arrival of Chris. He usually swung by around one thirty when the cafe was at its slowest. After the lunch rush you checked your phone every so often in hopes that the seconds would go by faster. No such luck. With no one in the shop, you decided to Lizzie on her break as you tidied up. It wasn’t until the door chimes rung softly that you glanced up to see Chris pushing open the door.

“Hey there” he greeted you, one hand full of a bouquet of flowers while he waved to you with his free hand. 

“Oh. Lizzie not here today?” he asked, glancing around the cafe. 

You shook your head. “She’s on break right now.”

“Ah” he nodded in response. He grinned as he looked around the empty shop. “So it’s just you and me now, huh?”

“Yup. Just you and me” you echoed, a pink tinge appearing on your face. 

“I like the sound of that” he laughed. You couldn’t get enough of his laugh. There was something so infectious about it that you couldn’t help but smile hearing it. 

He approached the counter, gently handing over the bouquet. This week’s flower arrangement featured gardenias and blue violets. Plucking the note from the side, you read it to yourself. “I wonder if you notice me the same way I notice you. I can’t help but wonder if everyone else can sense how much I enjoy being in your presence. Is it obvious for the world to see? Do I stutter too much or is my face too heated? Only you have me flustered like no other. Would others laugh if they knew or encourage this pursuit? But then I realize that I only care about one person’s opinion. And that if it was only you who noticed and you felt the same way I did, it would be enough for me. - Your Secret Admirer” 

“I love it” you breathed out softly, fingers tracing the petals. 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll let your admirer know that you’re just in love with this one as you were the last.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment. Every week you were always in awe that the only thing you could say was how much you loved it. 

“Do you choose the flowers in the arrangement or does, um, the other person?” There was hesitancy in your voice for saying the word ‘admirer’. You knew that was what you had, but it felt almost cocky if you were to let the word slide out of your mouth so easily. 

Chris shrugged. “It’s fifty fifty. Sometimes he chooses them. Sometimes he just wants to send you something beautiful that he leaves the arrangement up to me.”

“And today? Who chose it?”

He paused upon seeing your eagerness. “I think I’ll leave it a surprise” he decided, causing you to frown. “Hey, c’mon now. When the time is right, you’ll find out who your admirer is.” 

With that, you decided to drop the subject. Setting the flowers and note aside, you began making his usual order as he conversed with you. He spoke about the movie he watched last night and how he though you’d quite enjoy it even if the ending was terribly cheesy. You nodded along to his words but found yourself thinking about your admirer.

So many thoughts raced inside your head. Did you know him? Or did he just know you? Was he a regular or had you met him in some other place? Was it adoration at first sight or had it taken a while for you to grow on that person? These questions plagued your mind, making you wish you knew the answers. Of course the question you wanted to know most of all but knew never to ask sat at the very tip of your tongue: was Chris your admirer? 

You never would’ve thought of it if Lizzie and Letitia, your other best friend, hadn’t planted the concept. “It makes perfect sense. What better way to get to talk to you by faking an admirer” Leti suggested one night at your apartment. The three of you were spending a night in trying to relax when the topic of your secret admirer came up. 

“She has a good point” Lizzie agreed, nudging your shoulder. You waved off the idea but the two of them persisted. 

“He’s a total catch, but in this day and age people don’t do the whole straightforward deal. That’s why Lizzie’s on Tinder and I’m doing those online dating sites.” Lizzie scowled, tossing a pillow at Letitia.

“Let’s be real here. This just gives him more time to hang out with you. And you’re a total catch, Y/N. He now knows what makes you swoon and he’s probably just trying to find the right time to admit he’s sending the flowers and notes” Leti insisted. 

Even though you laughed it off, you couldn’t shake the idea that Chris might actually be your admirer. And honestly, you loved that idea. Everything about him seemed so perfect that you wanted it be true. But there were no obvious hints for you to definitively say it was him. And the only way for you to find out more information was to talk to the only person who knew the truth. 

“So no hints at all to the flower giver?” you eventually asked, letting your curiosity get the best of you. Though your earlier conversation had been about football, your random interjection didn’t bother Chris in the slightest.

“What would the fun be in that?” he teased, leaning in closer to you. 

“It would make it a lot easier for me to use a person’s name rather than calling them ‘flower giver’ or ‘person’” you pointed out. “Of course, I love all of this. I really do. But, well, it’s been a couple months. I figured they might’ve given me at least a hint by now.” 

He hummed as he pondered this notion. “Well, let’s just say your admirer is a lot closer than you think.” Was this him admitting that he was your admirer? It felt like a sign. Your heart raced as both of your eyes locked with one another. How could you even tear yourself away from those dreamy blue eyes? 

“Chris” a familiar voice snipped. Both of you looked at the entrance where your least favorite customer stood. Her arms crossed, she tapped her heel irritatedly waiting for him. Oh? So they knew one another. This news caught you by surprise seeing how she came across as bitter as espresso beans while he resembled the sweetness of hot cocoa. But perhaps people like Chris were meant to spread kindness to everyone, even those as harsh as her. 

“Well I’ll see ya later!” he called out, giving you one last smile before joining Scarlett. She brushed her hand through his hair, lips firmly pressed together. Taking one last glance at you, she caressed his cheek before roughly kissing his mouth. The kiss seemed to take both you and Chris by surprise, both of your eyes widening at the aggressive display of affection. 

“Let’s go” she stated to the visibly flustered Chris. The way her hand immediately grasped his once she finished made it clear: he was hers and you’d be foolish to go against her. 

Oof. That’s rough, buddy.

tag list: @sleepybesson | i’m not sure if you meant permanent tag list as in all i write so you got tagged in this - but let me know if i messed up and i’ll take you off: @tomhaz

[ajax-b1ue]

Suspension of Disbelief: Ch 1

2018 Big Bang Fic Challenge Submission Amazing Artist, Big Bang Partner, and Header Creator: @ahoardofsides​ TW: Villainous Deceit, angst, manipulation, gaslighting, self-deprecation, self-harm, anxiety attack, violence, blood, attempted murder Pairings: Platonic LAMP WC: 1692

( Master | AO3 | Chapter 1: Much Ado About Nothing | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 )

The sound of metal scratching against parchment filled the room. It was steady, almost continuous, although every now and again it hesitated.

This time, it paused.

And continued to pause.

Until finally, it was replaced by a loud and frustrated sigh, and much faster, more vigorous scratching. 

Roman leaned away from his desk, stretching his stiff back and neck, and raking one hand through his fading purple hair. He let his pen fall from the other hand, not caring if it splattered ink across the paper— it wasn’t like it mattered, since he’d just scribbled out half of what was written on it.

The creative side twisted his head to the left, wincing as the vertebrae popped painfully into place. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it this time.

A glance down at his work had Roman grimacing; not long enough, clearly.

In reality, Roman had spent the better part of the last week planted at his desk, trying and failing to come up with a good idea for Thomas’s next creation, stubbornly refusing to come out for anything more than a hastily made cup of coffee. He told himself it was because he needed to keep focused, but the truth was, he was also avoiding the other sides after the argument they’d had a week ago over some of his recent ideas.

His current creative block was not helping him feel any less frustrated.

A long and bedraggled breath fell from Roman’s lips, and he tilted his face to cradle it in both hands, palms pressing against his eyes. There had to be a solution to this.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Roman flung himself upwards in a mess of flailing limbs, knocking his chair clean over and yet somehow managing to draw his blade in the same motion. He whirled, swinging his sword, only for his eyes to fall on a figure perched on the side of his bed.

Deceit had one elbow on his knee, his chin couched in his hand, and wore the most utterly unimpressed stare Roman had ever seen. “…That was graceful.”

“Deceit?”

The princely side found that Deceit had— somehow— appeared in his room without him realizing. Immediately, Roman’s neck and face grew flushed; he still felt the shame of having been played so neatly by Deceit when the serpentine side had impersonated Patton. Right now, he was in no mood to be tolerant.

“What are you doing in my room?? Get out!”

Deceit made a show of examining one gloved hand, then turning and yawning into the other one. Then he blinked, as though just noticing Roman. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Well, if that was how Deceit was going to play it— Roman stalked forward, sword held out in front of him. Deceit watched him approach, making no attempt to move. Fine. “You are not welcome here. I’m giving you one chance,” Roman warned. “Either remove yourself from my room, or I will drive you from it.”

Deceit still made no move to get up, and, temper flaring, Roman punctuated his sentence by prodding at Deceit’s chest with the tip of his sword.

Deceit vanished completely.

Roman leapt back, shocked; when Deceit spoke again, he very nearly tripped over himself.

“Such conviction. You know, when you speak like that, I really believe you could accomplish anything.”

Roman whirled, searching for the deceitful side, only to find him in the chair Roman had just been sitting in, leaned back on two legs with his feet propped on the desk. When he saw that Roman had noticed him and was once more brandishing his sword at him, a grin spread across his face.

“You know, you look really regal right now. Very intimidating.” 

A mix of humiliation and anger burned inside of Roman, and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “So be it,” he grated— then charged towards Deceit with his blade held aloft, determined to chase the serpent from his room.

But every time his sword would connect, the image of Deceit blurred and disappeared, only to reappear somewhere else. This went on for a minute or so, with Deceit ‘cheering’ Roman on in a deadpan monotone.

“So close, Roman. Wow, you almost got me with that one. You’re so good at this.”

Tired, panting, and thoroughly annoyed, Roman let his sword dip towards the floor, and glared up at the dishonest side. “Why are you even pestering me in the first place?”

Deceit made a show of shrugging, now perched atop Roman’s wardrobe. “I don’t know, I just have so many interesting things going on right now, I could hardly pick one.”

Roman worked that over for a moment, before asking incredulously, “You’re bored?” Then irritated again: “Would you go haunt some place else??”

“Sure thing.” Deceit smiled widely, making no move to leave. “You’re the boss.” 

Roman gave a frustrated growl. “I don’t suppose you’d like to share why you insist on intruding on my space in particular?” The only response Roman received for his efforts was overly dramatic and exaggerated shrug, and the princely side let out a sound of disgust. “I suppose I should know better than to expect a straight answer out of you,” he muttered.

Deceit grinned and said, “I’m nothing but straight with you, Roman,” which just made Roman groan and roll his eyes. Still irritated, but unable to eject the dishonest side, Roman finally resigned himself to going back to what he was doing and just ignoring Deceit.

…Which worked for about a minute, before Deceit started offering colorful and ‘complimentary’ commentary. 

“I absolutely love that idea, Roman.”

Roman jerked up in his chair, caught off guard, and almost gave Deceit an incredulous look before he remembered that he was ignoring the other side. He pointedly refocused on his work in front of him, setting pen to paper.

“How did you come up with this? It’s so original.” “I can’t believe how clever your dialogue is.” “The humor in this is just inspired.”

Roman’s knuckles were white around his pen. He reread the line he’d just written, trying to reclaim his train of thought; Deceit leaned in over his right shoulder.

“This may just be some of your best work yet.”

“You know, I do realize that you are insulting me,” Roman snapped, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck at the thought that, he hadn’t before. 

“Insulting you? I’m praising you,” the other side insisted. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

That got Roman’s hackles up. “Every word you utter is a lie!”

“Mm,” Deceit hummed, rolling his eyes. “And you certainly don’t want to hear it. I suppose you could just go show the others,” he said, gesturing with one hand as though weighing the merits of the idea. “They’d be so delighted. Especially the part with the forklift; Logan’ll be just tickled.” Deceit’s words struck a nerve; Logan and Roman’s ongoing feud over the practicality of some of Roman’s ideas remained a sore spot.

Roman straightened his back, crossing his arms in front of him, and doing his best to not let on that Deceit’s comment had hit its mark. “If I were to call on the other sides for anything, it would be for their assistance in removing you.”

Deceit readily agreed. “You should do that. They’d love to hear about how you’re hanging around with me.”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Not by choice!” 

“They’ll be incredibly impressed that you asked for help, too,” Deceit went on. “Even though you’re the heroic one. They won’t think less of you, I’m sure.” He made a show of examining his nails, despite the fact that he was still wearing gloves, then glanced upwards. “They’ve probably even forgiven you by now for that little spat.”

Roman visibly stiffened. “Our disagreement is a temporary thing.”

“Of course it is.”

“We’ve overcome all other obstacles we’ve faced in the past, we shall move past this as well.”

“You’d know better than me.” Deceit wore a flat, knowing smile that— despite Roman insisting mentally, of course he knew better, why wouldn’t he, they were his friends— still made Roman’s skin crawl.

The creative side tried once again to return to his work and pretend like Deceit’s presence wasn’t leaving him even more distracted than before. If nothing else, he tried to not give the snake-like side the satisfaction of getting any further reaction from him.

Instead, he attempted to focus on coming up with a good idea. One that would give Logan no reason to protest, that Virgil wouldn’t find every way in which it could go wrong, that Patton wouldn’t chide for being mean spirited. Yet again, Deceit managed to completely disrupt his efforts— this time by actually sitting on top of Roman’s desk as he tried to write.

It took Roman a moment to process what had just happened before he made an offended noise and protested, “Butt, off the creative space!”

Deceit ignored that and just asked Roman a question instead: “Do you want to know a secret?” 

“No.”

“I don’t have to lie,” Deceit offered. “It’s just my nature. …And I like it,” he admitted a moment later. “But, I do recognize when others are lying. And may I just say,” he went on, in his dry, deadpan manner, “how enthralling it is to watch you all. You four are just one big, happy, functional family. You’re so honest and open with each other, all the time.” The dishonest side picked at a speck of dust on his capelet, flicking it off. “And normally, I’d be just heartbroken, watching you lie to yourself— but at this point?” Deceit affected a wince. “It’s kind of just pathetic.”

It was all Roman could do to not react; to just stare at the page in front of him, clutching his pen, head down and shoulders held rigid.

This time, the silence stretched on. Eventually, Roman forced himself to take a few deep breaths, until he could make himself relax, and pretend like everything was fine.

When he finally looked up, Roman found that he was once again alone.

[rachelhowieewrites]

Blog Post 7

The Washington Post

Part 1:

A.      The title is pretty apparent on the paper. It’s located on top of the page, in the middle of the header. I would say yes it grabs your attention, because it is so centered and it’s a different font than all of the other texts. I would say the front home page is cluttered, there’s a lot of different articles and advertisements that immediately pop up at the viewer. The font might pull in a potential reader because it makes the paper look more interesting and catches the attention of the viewer.

B.       The interesting thing about this journal is that there isn’t a huge headline spreading across the page. Instead there’s a large advertisement, which is interesting because right away they’re trying to persuade their reader to buy a product or take influence from an ad. The most important piece of their newspaper is the advertisement, followed by several smaller headlines.

C.       There are about 3-4 stories on the front page. The first one I saw was about the sexual misconduct allegations against Kavanaugh, and how Trump is adding to the confusion. Another one is about Lady Gaga’s new movie “A Star is Born” and the last one is about the new General Electric CEO. I would say there are two good news stories and one bad news story. I would say the two good news stories are also hard news stories, but the one about Kavanaugh seemed slightly more bias and emotions oriented. The next day there was an article about a disaster in Indonesia, after a 7.5 earthquake shook the city.

D.      There aren’t a lot of photos and graphics, more advertisements than anything else. However, there are some photos within the articles, like a picture of Lady Gaga and the company General Electric. They want you to pay $1 a day to read articles on The Washington Post, but there isn’t really a reason to do it. You can find what you need, you’ll still get advertisements even if you subscribe.

E.       All of the articles were written by authors that work for the Washington Post. There weren’t articles on the home page that were written by people outside of the journal.

Part 2:

F.       The thing that I found interesting about this paper is that they don’t have typical categories. Instead they have current headlines that a lot of people are talking about. Those reside right under the title, of course they also have the typical headlines at the top of the page (politics, opinions, sports, local, national, world, business, tech, lifestyle, entertainment, video, and jobs).

a.       Politics – “White House Agrees to Expand Kavanaugh Probe Slightly as McConnel Signals Vote is Imminent.” This is important because it’s something influential happening right now in politics. This is something really important within the US, especially if Kavanaugh is appointed.

b.       Sports – “Washington Capitals to get their Names on the Stanley Cup.” This is important because again it’s something happening right now.

c.       Local – “Airbnb says Proposed D.C. Rental Limits Would be Among Most Restrictive in the U.S.” This is important because it effects the nations capital residents. The complaint about home prices being too high is something we’re hearing from all over the nation, so it’s definitely an important thing to cover.

d.       National – “Nobel Prize in Medicine goes to Two Cancer Immunotherapy Researchers.” This is definitely an important piece because not only does it tell you who won a Nobel Prize. But the important thing is that it was in cancer research, which shows we’re making progress on that front.

e.       World – “Iran fires missiles at Islamic State Militants in Syria.” This is super important because this is a war that’s been going on for years. This is something Americans took upon themselves to “help.”  So, we feel the need to report on it.

f.        Business – “Battle Lines Taking Shape in California Legal Fight with Trump Administration over Net Neutrality.” Net neutrality is a huge problem the US is facing right now, because it’s such a controversial topic is why it was covered in this paper.

g.       Tech – “Tesla Shares Soar After Musk Settles with SEC.”

h.       Lifestyle – “Bradley Cooper will keep Geeking Out about a ‘Star is Born’ as long as you let him.”

i.         Entertainment – “Go Ahead, Take Kim Kardashian Seriously as a Criminal Justice Activist. It’s okay.”

G.      The ads changed daily, but the ads that were most prominent on Tuesday were Pacific Wildlife ads. An ad telling you that you can save money for retirement. I think these ads are being specifically presented because 1. I’m from Washington and they might be catering advertisements to people from that region. 2. They might be advertising for older people, that might be a large demographic of the older generation that ready the Washington Post.

H.      In 2013 The Washington Post was bought by Jeffery Benzo for $250 million. Benzo is the owner of Amazon, although claims the Post and Amazon are not affiliated.

Part 3

I.         Writer Jennifer Miller wrote a piece for The Washington Post titled: “American Girl: A Story of Immigration, Fear, and Fortitude.” This piece talked about how a girl is being separated from her family because of the new immigration laws. The piece gives information about the scenario but also assumes that immigration should be perceived as bad.

J.        The Washington Post tries to stay in the middle when it comes to politics. However, if I had to say they had any political leaning it would be liberal. Specifically with the immigration article, although the author doesn’t come right out and say it, there’s an obvious need for the reader to accept that immigration is bad and tears families apart, which is a more liberal mindset.

K.       “The Trump administration was canceling temporary protected status for El Salvador, a government program that had allowed Emily’s parents, both Salvadoran natives, to live and work legally in the United States for the past 17 years. According to the news, on Sept. 9, 2019, her mother, Maria Rivas, and her father, Jose, would be ordered to leave the country.”

L.       “The Washington Post agreed to withhold Emily’s last name, since she shares it with two non-American siblings whose immigration cases are currently in legal proceedings.” I think this is something they didn’t really need to put in the article, we didn’t need to know she had two other siblings that were waiting to find out if they would be forced out of the country, but the author added this for extra effect.

Part 4

              This paper seems to be pretty credible, even though they have a slight political leaning, every paper does. Because this paper has less of a lean, they are able to provide a more accurate account of what is happening around the world. They are also about to report on more because they don’t have to ignore some news because it doesn’t fit with their leaning. The most compelling thing about the newspaper is that it is The Washington Post, which is a paper that was founded in 1877, one year after the founding of America. It’s the largest paper in Washington D.C., and because it’s produced in our nations capital more people are likely to pay attention. The shortcomings would be that it’s focused on national news rather that news surrounding the D.C. area.

[arslan0049]

Technical Aspects That Affect SEO

Though all the SEO basics we have talked about so far are what most people think when you talk of what is SEO, they are not the only factors that come into play. When implementing a complete SEO strategy you cannot ignore the technical aspects that affect SEO in general and your website in particular.

The technical side of SEO is not as glamorous as the rest but that does not make it any less important, they’re often quite traditional tasks that are sometimes overlooked but have the potential to make a whole lot of difference when properly executed.

Technical SEO is a whole discipline of its own but when you take time to understand how it works, you gain an extra edge over most sites. These are some of the main things technical SEO can help you optimize and how they affect overall website performance and ranking.

Page Speed and Optimization for Mobile

What is SEO without page speed?

When users and search engines can navigate your pages smoothly it works in your favor. No one wants to stay on a page that takes minutes to load or with images that take time to appear. That’s the surest way to kill conversions and audience retention.

To help with this Google recommends a couple of tools you can use to increase website speed and load time. Mobile Friendliness is another aspect we cannot overemphasize, recently Google has been paying special attention to content that is mobile friendly.

Google announced that their algorithm now gives priority to websites that are optimized for mobile. Moreover, if the algorithm notices that your content drives more traffic from mobile users than desktop users, they will push your content to the forefront.

Google offers guidelines on how to make your website mobile-friendly, that’s a good place to start technical SEO for beginners.

Header Response

Probably the most technical part in SEO, header response has to do with codes websites transmit to search engines. For example, code 404 signals page error which means the page could not be found.

Most often when Google says 404 “Page Not Found” it doesn’t mean the page does not exist, it might have simply been indexed wrongly which is often a result of the use of wrong codes. So, make sure you double-check each page on your website’s header code.

To avoid 404s and other unpleasant issues involving response codes, it is recommended to use a Server Header Checker to make sure you have all the right codes installed on the page headers of your website.

Page Redirects

As per Google guidelines you should try as much as possible to avoid URL redirects. When you redirect your already indexed and ranked website to a new URL let’s say from an example.com/page to an example.html/page it might lead to broken links.

And if for some obscure reason you can’t help but redirect your page, it is recommended you let Google know. This can be done by implementing the 301 or 302 codes which respectively signify permanent and temporary redirects. Unreported redirects do not only leave a trail of broken links, they confuse search engines, disrupt traffic flow and user experience.

Duplicated Content

Duplicated content refers to putting identical or nearly the same content on multiple websites to manipulate search engines. Google specifically warns against duplicated content, saying it will be considered link equity diluting and automatically translates as lower-quality content to be manipulative.

It is recommended you run a diagnosis on your site to fish out and eliminate any kind of repetitive content. This also applies to your anchor texts, make sure they are unique and provide some kind of value.

Best SEO Company in Phoenix

Call: (602) 799–4253

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Slack Web

Download Slack

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The @slack/web-api package contains a simple, convenient, and configurable HTTP client for making requests to Slack’sWeb API. Use it in your app to call any of the over 130methods, and let it handle formatting, queuing, retrying, pagination, and more.

Installation

Initialize the client

You’re invited to join the discussion about all things related to Amazon Web Services on Slack. Click here to get started. You will be asked for your email address and will be sent an invite. Once there, choose your channel. Our #general channel is for anyone keen to discuss AWS related topics. The Slack Web API is an interface for querying information from and enacting change in a Slack workspace. Use it on the fly for ad-hoc queries, or as part of a more complex tapestry of platform features in a Slack app. What can you do with the Web API? Web Client The Slack Web API allows you to build applications that interact with Slack in more complex ways than the integrations we provide out of the box. Access Slack’s API methods requires an OAuth token – see the Tokens & Authentication section for more on how Slack uses OAuth tokens as well as best practices. Slack provides mobile apps for iOS and Android in addition to their Web browser client and desktop clients for macOS, Windows (with versions available from the company's website and through the Windows Store), and Linux (beta). Slack is also available for the Apple Watch, allowing users to send direct messages, see mentions, and make simple replies.

The package exports a WebClient class. All you need to do is instantiate it, and you’re ready to go. You’ll typicallyinitialize it with a token, so that you don’t have to provide the token each time you call a method. A token usuallybegins with xoxb or xoxp. You get them from each workspace an app is installed onto. The app configuration pageshelp you get your first token for your development workspace.

Initializing without a token

Alternatively, you can create a client without an token, and use it with multiple workspaces as long as you supply atoken when you call a method.

Call a method

The client instance has a named method for each of the public methods in the Web API. The most popular one iscalled chat.postMessage, and its used to send a message to a conversation. For every method, you pass arguments asproperties of an options object. This helps with the readablility of your code since every argument has a name. Allnamed methods return a Promise which resolves with the response data, or rejects with an error.

Hint: If you’re using an editor that supports TypeScript, even if you’re not using TypeScript to write your code,you’ll get hints for all the arguments each method supports. This helps you save time by reducing the number oftimes you need to pop out to a webpage to check the reference. There’s more information about usingTypeScript with this package in the documentation website.

Note: Use the Block Kit Builder for a playgroundwhere you can prototype your message’s look and feel.

Using a dynamic method name

If you want to provide the method name as a string, so that you can decide which method to call dynamically, or to calla method that might not be available in your version of the client, use the WebClient.apiCall(methodName, (options))method. The API method call above can also be written as follows:

Handle errors

Errors can happen for many reasons: maybe the token doesn’t have the proper scopes tocall a method, maybe its been revoked by a user, or maybe you just used a bad argument. In these cases, the returnedPromise will reject with an Error. You should catch the error and use the information it contains to decide how yourapp can proceed.

Each error contains a code property, which you can check against the ErrorCode export to understand the kind oferror you’re dealing with. For example, when Slack responds to your app with an error, that is anErrorCode.PlatformError. These types of errors provide Slack’s response body as the data property.

More error types

There are a few more types of errors that you might encounter, each with one of these codes:

ErrorCode.RequestError: A request could not be sent. A common reason for this is that your network connection isnot available, or api.slack.com could not be reached. This error has an original property with more details.

ErrorCode.RateLimitedError: The Web API cannot fulfill the API method call because your app has made too manyrequests too quickly. This error has a retryAfter property with the number of seconds you should wait before tryingagain. See the documentation on rate limit handling tounderstand how the client will automatically deal with these problems for you.

ErrorCode.HTTPError: The HTTP response contained an unfamiliar status code. The Web API only responds with 200(yes, even for errors) or 429 (rate limiting). If you receive this error, its likely due to a problem with a proxy,a custom TLS configuration, or a custom API URL. This error has the statusCode, statusMessage, headers, andbody properties containing more details.

Pagination

Many of the Web API’s methods returnlists of objects, and are known to be cursor-paginated. The result of calling these methods will contain a part ofthe list, or a page, and also provide you with information on how to continue to the next page on a subsequent API call.Instead of calling many times manually, the WebClient can manage getting each page, allowing you to determine when tostop, and help you process the results.

The process of retrieving multiple pages from Slack’s API can be described as asynchronous iteration, which meansyou’re processing items in a collection, but getting each item is an asynchronous operation. Fortunately, JavaScripthas this concept built in, and in newer versions of the language there’s syntax to make it even simpler:for await..of.

The for await..of syntax is available in Node v10.0.0 and above. If you’re using an older version of Node, seefunctional iteration below.

Using functional iteration

The .paginate() method can accept up to two additional parameters. The third parameter, stopFn, is a function thatis called once for each page of the result, and should return true when the app no longer needs to get another page.The fourth parameter is reducerFn, which is a function that gets called once for each page of the result, but canbe used to aggregate a result. The value it returns is used to call it the next time as the accumulator. The firsttime it gets called, the accumulator is undefined.

The returned value is a Promise, but what it resolves to depends on whether or not you include the fourth (optional)parameter. If you don’t include it, the resolved value is always undefined. In this case, its used for control flowpurposes (resuming the rest of your program), and the function in the third parameter is used to capture a result. Ifyou do include the fourth parameter, then the resolved value is the value of the accumulator. This is a familiarpattern for people that use functional programming.

Opening modals

Modals can be created by calling the views.open method. The method requires you to pass a valid view payload in addition to a trigger_id, which can be obtained when a user invokes your app using a slash command, clicking a button, or using another interactive action.

Dynamically updating a modal

After the modal is opened, you can update it dynamically by calling views.update with the view ID returned in the views.open result.

Logging

The WebClient will log interesting information to the console by default. You can use the logLevel to decide howmuch information, or how interesting the information needs to be, in order for it to be output. Mac lip pencil in soar. There are a few possiblelog levels, which you can find in the LogLevel export. By default, the value is set to LogLevel.INFO. While you’rein development, its sometimes helpful to set this to the most verbose: LogLevel.DEBUG.

All the log levels, in order of most to least information are: DEBUG, INFO, WARN, and ERROR.

Sending log output somewhere besides the console

You can also choose to have logs sent to a custom logger using the logger option. A custom logger needs to implementspecific methods (known as the Logger interface):

MethodParametersReturn typesetLevel()level: LogLevelvoidsetName()name: stringvoiddebug()..msgs: any()voidinfo()..msgs: any()voidwarn()..msgs: any()voiderror()..msgs: any()void

A very simple custom logger might ignore the name and level, and write all messages to a file.

Automatic retries

In production systems, you want your app to be resilient to short hiccups and temporary outages. Solving for thisproblem usually involves building a queuing system that handles retrying failed tasks. The WebClient comes with thisqueuing system out of the box, and its on by default! The client will retry a failed API method call up to 10 times,spaced out over about 30 minutes. If the request doesn’t succeed in that time, then the returned Promise will reject.You can observe each of the retries in your logs by setting the log level to DEBUG. Try running thefollowing code with your network disconnected, and then re-connect after you see a couple of log messages:

Shortly after re-connecting your network, you should see the Done! message. Did you notice the program doesn’t use avalid token? The client is doing something clever and helpful here. It knows the difference between an error such as notbeing able to reach api.slack.com and an error in the response from Slack about an invalid token. The former issomething that can be resolved with a retry, so it was retried. The invalid token error means that the call isn’t goingto succeed until your app does something differently, so it stops attempting retries.

You might not think 10 reties in 30 minutes is a good policy for your app. No problem, you can set the retryConfig toone that works better for you. The retryPolicies export contains a few well known options, and you can always writeyour own.

Here are some other values that you might want to use for retryConfig:

retryConfigDescriptionretryPolicies.tenRetriesInAboutThirtyMinutes(default)retryPolicies.fiveRetriesInFiveMinutesFive attempts in five minutesretryPolicies.rapidRetryPolicyUsed to keep tests running fast( retries: 0 )No retries (other options)

Note: If an API call results in a rate limit being exceeded, you might still notice the client automaticallyretrying the API call. If you’d like to opt out of that behavior, set the rejectRateLimitedCalls option to true.

Upload a file

A couple methods, files.upload and users.setPhoto, allow you to upload a file over the API. In Node, there are a fewways you might be dealing with files, or more generally, binary data. When you have the whole file in memory (like whenyou’ve just generated or processed an image), then in Node you’d have a Buffer that contains that binary data. Or,when you are reading the file from disk or a network (like when you have a path to file name), then you’d typically havea ReadableStream. The client can handle both of these binary data types for you, and it looks like any other API call.

The following example shows how you can use files.upload to upload afile that is read from disk (as a ReadableStream).

In the example above, you could also use a Buffer object as the value for the file property of the options object.

Proxy requests with a custom agent

The client allows you to customize the HTTPAgent used to create the connection to Slack.Using this option is the best way to make all requests from your app through a proxy, which is a common requirement inmany corporate settings.

In order to create an Agent from some proxy information (such as a host, port, username, and password), you can useone of many npm packages. We recommend https-proxy-agent. Startby installing this package and saving it to your package.json.

Import the HttpsProxyAgent class, and create an instance that can be used as the agent option of the WebClient.

Rate limits

When your app calls API methods too frequently, Slack will politely ask (by returning an error) the app to slow down,and also let your app know how many seconds later it should try again. This is called rate limiting and theWebClient handles it for your app with grace. The client will understand these rate limiting errors, wait theappropriate amount of time, and then retry the request without any changes in your code. The Promise returned onlyresolves when Slack has given your app a real response.

It’s a good idea to know when you’re bumping up against these limits, so thatyou might be able to change the behavior of your app to hit them less often. Your users would surely appreciate gettingthings done without the delay. Each time a rate limit related error occurs, the WebClient instance emits an event:WebClientEvent.RATE_LIMITED. We recommend that you use the event to inform users when something might take longer thanexpected, or just log it for later.

Download Slack

You might not want to the WebClient to handle rate limits in this way. Perhaps the operation was time sensitive, andit won’t be useful by the time Slack is ready for another request. Or, you have a more sophisticated approach. In thesecases, you can set the rejectRateLimitedCalls option on the client to true. Once you set this option, method callscan fail with rate limiting related errors. These errors have a code property set to ErrorCode.RateLimitedError. Seeerror handling for more details.

Request concurrency

Each of the API method calls the client starts are happening concurrently, or at the same time. If your app triesto perform a lot of method calls, let’s say 100 of them, at the same time, each one of them would be competing for thesame network resources (such as bandwidth). By competing, they might negatively affect the performance of all the rest,and therefore negatively affect the performance of your app. This is one of the reasons why the WebClient limits theconcurrency of requests by default to ten, which means it keeps track of how many requests are waiting, and onlystarts an eleventh request when one of them completes. The exact number of requests the client allows at the same timecan be set using the maxRequestConcurrency option.

The lower you set the maxRequestConcurrency, the less parallelism you’ll have in your app. Imagine setting theconcurrency to 1. Each of the method calls would have to wait for the previous method call to complete before it caneven be started. This could slow down your app significantly. So its best not to set this number too low.

Another reason, besides competing for resources, that you might limit the request concurrency is to minimize theamount of state in your app. Each request that hasn’t completed is in some ways a piece of state that hasn’t yet beenstored anywhere except the memory of your program. In the scenario where you had 100 method calls waiting, and yourprogram unexpectedly crashes, you’ve lost information about 100 different things going on in the app. But by limitingthe concurrency to a smaller number, you can minimize this risk. So its best not to set this number too high.

Custom TLS configuration

Each connection to Slack starts with a handshake that allows your app to trust that it is actually Slack you areconnecting to. The system for establishing this trust is called TLS. In order for TLS to work, the host running your appkeeps a list of trusted certificate authorities, that it can use to verify a signature Slack produces. You don’tusually see this list, its usually a part of the operating system you’re running on. In very special cases, like certaintesting techniques, you might want to send a request to another party that doesn’t have a valid TLS signature that yourcertificate authority would verify. In these cases, you can provide alternative TLS settings, in order to change how theoperating system might determine whether the signature is valid. You can use the tls option to describe the settingsyou want (these settings are the most common and useful from the standard NodeAPI).

tls propertyDescriptioncaOptionally override the trusted CA certificates. Any string or Buffer can contain multiple PEM CAs concatenated together.keyPrivate keys in PEM format. PEM allows the option of private keys being encrypted. Encrypted keys will be decrypted with passphrase.certCert chains in PEM format. One cert chain should be provided per private key.pfxPFX or PKCS12 encoded private key and certificate chain. pfx is an alternative to providing key and cert individually. PFX is usually encrypted, if it is, passphrase will be used to decrypt it.passphraseShared passphrase used for a single private key and/or a PFX.

Slack Webinar

Custom API URL

The URLs for method calls to Slack’s Web API always begin with https://slack.com/api/. In very special cases, such ascertain testing techniques, you might want to send these requests to a different URL. The slackApiUrl option allowsyou to replace this prefix with another.

Exchange an OAuth grant for a token

There’s one method in the Slack Web API that doesn’t requires a token, because its the method that gets a token! Thismethod is called oauth.v2.access. It’s used as part of the OAuth2.0 process that users initiate when installing your app into a workspace. In thelast step of this process, your app has received an authorization grant called code which it needs to exchange foran access token (token). You can use an instance of the WebClient that has no token to easily complete thisexchange.

Note: If you’re looking for a more complete solution that handles more of the OAuth process for your app, take alook at the @aoberoi/passport-slack Passport Strategy.

The Slack platform offers several APIs to build apps. Each Slack API delivers part of the capabilities from theplatform, so that you can pick just those that fit for your needs. This SDK offers a corresponding package for each ofSlack’s APIs. They are small and powerful when used independently, and work seamlessly when used together, too.

Just starting out? The Getting Started tutorial willwalk you through building your first Slack app using Node.js.

Slack APIWhat its forNPM PackageWeb APISend data to or query data from Slack using any of over 130 methods.@slack/web-apiEvents APIListen for incoming messages and many other events happening in Slack, using a URL.@slack/events-apiInteractive MessagesRespond to button clicks, dialogs, and other interactions with messages.@slack/interactive-messagesOAuthSetup the authentication flow using V2 OAuth for Slack apps as well as V1 OAuth for classic Slack apps.@slack/oauthRTM APIListen for incoming messages and a limited set of events happening in Slack, using websockets.@slack/rtm-apiIncoming WebhooksSend notifications to a single channel which the user picks on installation.@slack/webhook

Not sure about which APIs are right for your app? Read our blogpost that explains the options.If you’re still not sure, reach out for help and our community can guide you.

If you’re looking for an all-in-one solution that hides the underlying Slack APIs, but simplifies building a bot-styleapp inside Slack, try the Hubot Slack adapter. Hubot is a popular frameworkfor internal apps that automate workflows, perform ChatOps, or just generate silly memes.

Installation

Question symbol copy. Use your favorite package manager to install any of the packages and save to your package.json:

Requirements

This package supports Node v8 LTS and higher. It’s highly recommended to use the latest LTS version ofnode, and the documentation is written using syntax and featuresfrom that version.

Slack Web App

Getting Help

If you get stuck, we’re here to help. The following are the best ways to get assistance working through your issue:

Slack Webex

Issue Tracker for questions, featurerequests, bug reports and general discussion related to this package.

Email us in Slack developer support: developers@slack.com

Bot Developers Hangout: a Slack community for developersbuilding all types of bots. You can find the maintainers and users of this package in #sdk-node-slack-sdk.