#or What The Lord Did For Me (or: My Life Is Perfectly Peachy)

[isfjmel-phleg]

🫥

*it cut off my last tags which were: I don't know what I can do about this but in the meantime it's a struggle

[timeforelfnonsense]

The Lusty Eladrin Maid

Rating: E (no smut yet but there will be in the update) || Ao3 ||  Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series || Author's tucked away at the end

It was a simple enough task to find Dafni in the little forest glade. He’d followed the trail of flowers left behind by her bare feet in the grass. The iridescent fabric of her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she twirled. Her nimble fingertips plucked berries, as red and ripe as her parted lips. She filled the woven basket hanging from the crook of her bent arm, singing softly to herself. A few rosy ringlets peak out of the front of her kerchief, framing her bespeckled cheeks. A smile tugged at Astarion’s lips, she looked like a storybook character come to life right off the page.

Silently, he crept further into the meadow watching her sway to her slivery, birdsong melody. Closer and closer until Dafni unknowingly spun herself into his embrace. Astarion pulled her into his chest, a baby pink flush spreading across the bridge of her freckled nose. Dafni glanced up at him, doe-eyed through her long, fluttering lashes. Daffodil cups unfurled themselves throughout the sea of curls flowing from her lacy kerchief. Their vibrant colors painting a sunset of yellow, cream, and peachy-pink in her tresses.

“It seems I’ve caught myself a faerie! ” Astarion murmured against her ear, toying with a stray tendril, twisting the curl around his index finger.

Dafni let out a chime of silver laughter before responding in an airy voice, “And what do you mean to do with me, good sir?”

“I mean to take you into my arms.” He said with a low chuckle, turning her so her chest was pressed to his own, “To kiss you and hold you.” He tilted her face upwards, finding her berry-stained lips with his own. Pulling away for a single torturous moment, he spoke once more, “I mean to make you mine.” 

He could taste the sweet tang of raspberry juice and honey on her tongue as he coaxed her deeper into the kiss. A contented sigh slipped from Dafni’s lungs. She nestled herself closer to his body, her full breasts pressed against his chest. He brought a hand to the base of her skull, gently cradling her head in his palm. He felt her lips curl into a smile under his kiss. 

He’d found himself rather enchanted by this little game of flirtatious make-believe. He’d perused the dog eared pages of her books out of equal parts boredom and curiosity. She’d only had the single faded pink leather volume in her bag when she’d been snatched, but over a few days, she’d been able to track down a trove of smutty literature. Through his investigation of the many, many volumes of romance and debauchery, Astarion had gathered some insight into the romantic workings of her mind. 

She dreamt of being swept off her feet. She wanted illicit midnight rendezvous. She longed for stolen kisses and tender words whispered between waltzes. To sneak away from a ballroom to some hidden alcove. He could picture it perfectly, her frilly skirts thrown over her back. His hand climbing its way up her stocking clad caves as she was bent over the nearest piece of furniture and tupped to oblivion.

What was the harm in indulging her whimsy for a little while? It would be easy enough to play the dashing rapscallion to her wayward debutante. 

 “I’ll happily surrender myself to you if you promise to kiss me like that again,” She said, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. A lopsided, sunny smile flashing across her mouth.

Dafni stood on her tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, drawing his lips to her own again and again and once more for good measure. Her hand cupped his face, her thumb stroking softly against the sharp line of his cheek. 

A shiver ran through her as he dragged the tips of his middle and index fingers down the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. His touch wandered along her bicep, carefully tracing the delicate outline of the hardy muscle beneath the trimmings of girlish fat. His hand wrapped around the outside of her arm next, giving her a gentle squeeze before continuing his exportation of the shaking limb. His thumb glided along the line of her vena amoris, strumming a soundless melody that reverberated against the walls of her heart. 

He followed the vein to the pulse point hammering at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as the warmth of his kiss slipped away. Dafni made a sour expression of protest but Astarion paid her no mind. Gingerly, he brought her wrist to his lips. A feather-light peck tickled her skin before he clasped her dainty hand in his own. The corners of his lips quirked up in a spellbinding grin. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side sending a singular ivory ringlet loose from that splendid head of hair. His left hand came to rest just above the small of her back. She leaned forward in a fruitless attempt to restore the kiss, but she was only able to catch the very corner of his roguish mouth.

“What happened to holding, and kissing and making me yours?” Dafni inquired in a playful mockery of his cadence.

“I am still holding you,” He reminded the hand on her back, pushing her closer for emphasis, “and I did kiss you. As for making you mine...All in good time, dear.” He purred, lips brushing the long line of her ear, “Tell me, sweet girl, do you know how to dance?”

“I- Yes, I know how to dance...”

“I thought so,” Astarion nodded thoughtfully. The hand on her back traveled up to the base of her shoulder blade. He gently nudged her arm upwards until to rest atop his. “ A pretty creature like you must be the star of all sorts of quaint fetes. I want to be certain that at the next little soirée you attend, you’ll spend the evening scanning the crowd for my face. And every time some brave young lord or lady plucks up the courage to ask for a dance, those perfect lips will turn ever so slightly upwards as you decline. Because every time you hear a waltz all you’ll be able to think of is the man in the glen and the passionate, consummate sex you had with him.” 

Dafni’s heart threatened to burst. There she was, Dafni Ríwen, Thesmia’s sheltered, unexceptional daughter of controversial paternity. The girl who sat on the sideline of every formal gathering she’d ever attended with an empty dance card and a sullen pout, seen as an unquestionable first water by the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on! She felt her footing wobble but Astarion’s confidence held her steady and sure. She knew it was only a bit of fun but she’d spent decades dreaming of finding herself in a situation very much like this one and by the hells she was going to enjoy it! 

Astarion was clearly versed in the art of ballroom seduction. He led her through the waltz as sure-footed as anything. Though there was no music, his rhythm never faulted. Moreover, he held her much closer than was proper. His hand had fallen to the curve of her waist rather than her shoulder. Her body felt as if it had been set alight at each point of contact. 

If they were truly in a ballroom some overzealous chaperone would have certainly made a fuss. While the fey were certainly creatures of revelry and carnal pleasure, they held a certain fondness for priority and decorum that seemed to outsiders rather contradictory. But, to the people of Faerie, it all made perfect sense. A chaperone scolds a young couple for improperly and perhaps the attention would incite a reaction from a rival suitor leading to a dispute of honor. Perhaps they proved the final push for a public delectation of love. Or, at the very least, the blushing lovers might seek out some secret place to continue their dalliance now colored with the excitement of rebellion.

The wicked curve of his smile and her previous encounter with him in these very woods, lead Dafni to believe that Astarion was exactly the sort of libertine who was all too thrilled to be given an excuse to sneak off for a bit of secret bedsport. A yearning sigh fell from her chest as she pictured herself laid for him in one of the Summer Queen’s manicured hedge mazes. She bit back a lewd noise as she pictured some hapless party goer stumbling across them still in the throes of amorous relations. 

All in good time, She repeated to herself as she picked her thighs together.

___

When I make a new OC, I always include a tiny piece of myself, a hobby, skill, or habit. It's always something small but acts as the proverbial  "baby's first laugh"  à la the fairies of Neverland for characters.  I don't usually share what that spark is, but rather keep them as little in-jokes for myself and those closest to me. As a little peek behind the curtain, I will share that Dafni inherited my love of romance novels. I'm sure it's no surprise to anyone who follows my tumblr I am a lover of smutty, historical, and fantasy literature. This fic is my love letter to Tessa Dare, Lisa Kleypas, and all of the other women whose stories provide me with a much-needed escape during an awful year as well as inspiring me to write once more. Part two coming soon! (Also yes, the vena amoris is an old wives tale BUT it's very romantic, and who's to say elves don't have the fictitious heart vein?)

[hawksmagnolia]

In times of sickness we all need a hero.

Darcy is sick so Clint, Nat and Sam send her a hero to save the day. 

A/N: Based on the prompt: “What do you mean you’re sick? You’re my partner in crime!”

Warning: Fluff, bathtime snuggles, sweet Bucky

“What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime! Who else is going to encourage me to do dumb shit?”

Darcy sniffled through the phone. “Clint, you’re perfectly capable in doing dumb shit all on your own.”

Clint considered this. “Well, yeah. But it’s not as much fun without you. Plus who is going to warn me when Nat is coming? Wilson sucks at being the look out. He gets distracted.”

“Sam gets flirted with. You get distracted. You’re the walking, talking poster child for ADHD. You’re like one of those monkeys who ate all the cocaine at that drug lord’s house down in Miami. Although you’d probably be calmer on coke, pretty sure it’s just like super Adderall.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

She sniffed again. “I’m going back to laying on my couch in misery and watching Hallmark Christmas movies until I feel better. Stay out of Tony’s expensive espresso or you’ll die and we won’t know because you’ll be twitching for another 48 hours.”

“Spoilsport. Call me if you need anything.” Clint made kissy noises into the phone and hung up.

Clint looked over at Sam and Nat. Natasha looked bemused and Sam looked annoyed. Which was his normal state around Clint.

“I do NOT get distracted.” Sam grumbled.

“You do get flirted with a lot though.” Natasha pinched his cheek and he batted her hand away. 

“What about me?!” Cried Clint and Natasha kissed him on his pouting lips. “I threaten to kill people who flirt with you.” Clint smiled fondly at her.

“Now what?” Sam eyed Clint suspiciously. “I know you’re up to something but since we have Nat here I feel much safer.”

Clint cut his eyes at Sam. “You feel safer with her? She’s an assassin!”

Nat thumped Clint on the back of the head. “So are you. Give me your phone. He won’t expect you to be capable of this kind of manipulation.”

Clint looked hurt and Nat kissed him again as she took the phone from his hands. “We all know the stupid is an act.” She held the phone to his face to unlock it and then began to type on the screen. Clint leaned over to watch her and a smile blossomed on the archer’s face. 

“Oh Nat. When you’re good…you’re good.” He plucked the phone from her fingers and held the screen for Sam to read. 

“Damn girl. You almost sound like Clint in that text. Except it has proper spelling and grammar.”

“Not many schools in the carnival life.” Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t affect my aim. Find bad guy, shoot bad guy. The end.”

“Will you two idiots shut up? I’m setting the trap, let’s see if he takes the bait.” She pressed ‘send’ on the text and then spun around in her chair to watch the monitor screen of the gym where their mark, also known as James Buchanan Barnes, was working out.

Clint pulled out a box of caramel popcorn and kicked his feet up onto the desk where Natasha immediately shoved them off.

“Really Barton? Popcorn?”

He held out the box to Sam. “Want some?” 

“I’m not sure why I’m still surprised by anything you do.”

Natasha shushed them as she saw Bucky glance at his watch before re-stacking his weights and going to his bag to get his phone.

“Hook, line and sinker.”  Natasha smiled smugly as they watched Bucky pack up his bag and jog out of the gym.

——————————

Darcy laid on her couch in a pile of blankets as she wallowed in self pity. She felt awful, with a congested head and fever. Everything ached. Downfall of living with so many super people? None of them got sick but somehow they managed to bring home many, many germs to those of the non-super people variety. She coughed and considered calling Clint back so she could whine and then guilt him into bringing her food. She had food here but it was not food she wanted. 

She had just picked up her phone when there was a knock at her door. She looked back at it before pressing her phone screen to unlock the door. 

When the door opened Darcy desperately wished she had died and this was now heaven. Because that was preferable to the reality of the super hot super soldier actually seeing her looking like a hot mess. 

And, dear gods of thunder, he looked super hot. His hair was damp and loose around his face and he was dressed like he’d just left the gym. His tank top showed off every single defined muscle of his arms and was just clingy enough to give a hint of those abs while his shorts rode low on his hips. He was also looking at her oddly. Which is when she realized she was not only staring, but staring with her mouth wide open. She snapped her jaw shut and felt her face burn with something other than fever. 

“Darcy? You okay?”

“Um. Yeah. Peachy.” She tried to flash a smile but ended up coughing again. She heard a thump on her table and then a broad, warm hand was rubbing her back. 

“Jesus. You’re burning up.”

She waved a limp hand at him. “I’m not quite dead yet.”

“Clint said you were sick and asked me to check on you. So I brought that egg drop soup you like since you can’t get me sick.” He pointed to brown paper bag on her tiny kitchen table.

She peered up at him. “How do you know what soup I like?”

Bucky smiled at her. “You order it every single night we get Chinese.”

“Oh. Oh!” She yelped as Bucky reached over the back of the couch and scooped her into his arms. She hissed as his prosthetic pressed against her fevered skin. 

“We gotta get you cooled down Doll.” He carried her with ease into her bathroom. She was suddenly very, very grateful that she’d actually put her laundry down the chute earlier instead of leaving it in a pile on the floor. Keeping her cradled in his arms, he sat on the edge of the oversized tub and turned the tap on.

“What are you doing?” Darcy’s voice was a little muffled from being buried into his chest. She peeked up at his face.

“Told you. Getting you cooled down.” He kicked off his sneakers and reached down to peel off his socks. 

“But why are you getting…less clothing-ish?”

Bucky laughed as he checked the water. “I’m getting in with you. I can watch your temperature with my arm easier than any other way.”

Darcy squeaked. “In with me?!”

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head which sent little tingles all the way to her toes. “I promise your dignity is safe with me. I’ll keep my shorts on.”

“What if I don’t want my dignity to be safe?” Darcy mumbled and Bucky chuckled.

Bucky turned the water off and shifted her again as he yanked his tank top over his head. Darcy tried very hard not to stare but she was 1000% sure she failed. 

He stood, her still cradled in his arms and against that gloriously naked chest, and stepped into the tub. He sat, putting her between his legs with her back against his chest. She shivered a bit and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Sorry doll. But this-“ He plucked at her tank top. “has got to go.”

Darcy felt herself blush, she wore nothing under it, but Bucky leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re gorgeous and should know that.” His lips grazed her ear as he slid his prosthetic hand over her stomach and lifted her shirt with his other. Once the soaked fabric was tossed aside he settled her back against him. His thumb slowly traced a circle on her abdomen while he used the other to run through her hair. Darcy practically purred as his fingers slid across her scalp.

“How long have you been like this?” His voice rumbled against her back.

“Mmm…I don’t know. A couple days? What day is it?” 

“Have you been miserable the whole time? Why didn’t you call someone?”

“Clint and Nat have been checking on me. Steve came by too and dropped off some Gatorade and cold medicine. Sometimes you super people forget that not all of us have magic immune systems. Normally I’d have Thor bring me Asgardian medicine but he’s off in space doing space things.”

He pulled her a little closer and she snuggled into him. The water felt amazing on her skin and Bucky was warm enough to ward off the chill of the water and her fever finally breaking. 

“Next time call me. I’ll come stay with you.”

Darcy craned her neck to look up at him. “Don’t you have world saving to do though? I’m pretty sure that’s way more important than babysitting me.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll decide what’s important.”

“Does this mean I’m important?”

“I don’t go climbing in bathtubs with just anyone.”

She sighed dramatically. “Of course you pick now to do it.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. “You sayin’ you want to do it again?” His Brooklyn drawl crept into his voice.

“Only if you want to. But, I’d be either dead or a complete idiot to say no. Please know if I am asked about this later I will blame fever.”

“Then we will make a habit of this…especially when you’re better.” He flashed a wicked grin at her that made the heat she felt throughout her body have nothing to do with her illness. “But until then, out we go. I don’t want you gettin’ too cold.” He slipped from behind her and out of the tub, reaching to grab a towel. Darcy swallowed hard at the sight of his ass in water soaked clingy shorts. She crossed her arms over her chest self consciously.

“You done lookin’?”

“Um…no? I mean, I can lie and say yes but no. I’m not.” 

Bucky smiled and held out his hand and Darcy slowly stood on unsteady legs as she attempted to keep her chest covered. Gently he wrapped her in a towel and sat her on the side of the tub before wrapping one around his waist. Grabbing the wet fabric of his shorts, he pulled them down his legs and tossed them aside.

Darcy gaped at him. Her brain shorted out and the only noise to escape her mouth was a wheezy gasp. 

Bucky pretended not to notice as he grabbed another towel and tenderly began to dry the ends of her hair that had fallen into the water. She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her tangled curls until was able to braid it out of her face. 

“Where did you learn to braid?” 

Bucky was pulling a hair tie from around his wrist and he paused. “My sister. She was constantly running around with wild hair but she’d let me brush and braid it at night after her bath.” He secured her braid and stood. “Out of your wet stuff. I’ll be back in a minute, going to try and find you dry clothes.” He disappeared into her bedroom. 

She heard him moving around in her bedroom. The idea of James Buchanan Barnes going into her underwear drawer was enough to make her yelp. He stuck his head back into the bathroom. 

“You okay?”

“I..I can find dry clothes.”

He searched her face for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I’ll clean up in here.”

Darcy wobbled her way into her bedroom and stopped in surprise. Her bed had been carefully spread up with the quit and sheets pulled back so she could climb in. A bottle of Gatorade sat on her bedside- it wasn’t her normal flavor so she wondered if it was from him. She pulled on another tank top (this one with a built in bra) and dry boy shorts, kicking her wet ones aside. She was sitting on the edge of her bed attempting to get a pair of shorts up her legs when he came in still just wearing a towel around his waist. Without being asked, he knelt at her feet and slid them up for her. His fingers grazed over her bare flesh and it broke out into chill bumps.

“Into bed with you.” He gestured and she crawled up towards her pillows. He sat on the edge and pulled the blankets up. 

“Are you leaving?” She whispered.

“Do you want me to?”

She shook her head. 

“I’m going to put your soup up and grab dry stuff for me. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead again and padded barefoot out of her room.

Darcy closed her eyes for just a second, she wasn’t asleep, just resting her eyes. She opened them again when her bed shifted. Bucky sat there in another tank top and shorts. His hair was scraped back from his face and the light from the bathroom cast shadows across his face. 

“Hey. You good?”

Darcy nodded sleepily and he went to stand up but she grabbed his hand. “Stay.”

“I ain’t leavin’ doll. Just going to lay on the couch.”

She shook her head. “No. Stay here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “In bed? With you?”

She nodded.

“You sure?”

She nodded again. He carefully went to the other side and slid under the covers behind her. Darcy sighed when she felt his body pressed against hers, her legs tangling with his. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Not exactly how I expected our first time in bed to go.”

“What?!” 

Bucky laughed. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

“I’m sorry. I must be delirious. I could have sworn you said you’ve been wanting to get into my bed for months.”

“Well, me into yours or you into mine. I ain’t picky.”

Darcy shifted and then rolled to face him. Her eyes roved over his face and she traced the angle of his jaw with her fingertips. “So, why the hell haven’t you done something before now?”

Bucky shrugged a little. “Figured you weren’t interested.”

“Are you high? How would I not be interested in you? Have you seen yourself?”

“I’ve got…baggage.”

“So does everyone. But you also have lots of muscles, pretty eyes and a great smile. And you’re a good person. You’re here, in my bed, making sure I don’t die.”

“You’re not going to die from a cold.”

“I might. This is why you have to stay. To protect my life. It’s very important to my health that you stay.”

“Well, if it’s that important then I’ll stay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and left them there. His warm breath slid over her skin and she pressed a little closer. “You keep that up and I’m makin’ no promises about your dignity being safe with me.”

Darcy picked up his arm and draped it over her side where he curled his fingers against her skin.

“What if I say I’m feeling much better? Like I’m almost cured?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re actually well.”

“But..!”

Bucky cut her off by pressing his lips to hers and when she gasped and opened her mouth, his tongue slid over her lips deepening the kiss.

When he broke off from her, she looked a little dazed. “You’re really good at that.”

He gently kissed her again. “I’m really good at a lot of things. But for now, you need to rest.”

“Promise you’ll show me?”

“Hell yes.”

——————

“Told you it would work.” Clint tiled the box of popcorn to dump the crumbs into his mouth. “Wasn’t expecting him to go wandering the halls in a towel though.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I have to admit Barton, I’m actually kind of impressed.”

Natasha tapped her fingernail against her lips. “I think this is exactly the push they needed. Bravo Clint.”

Clint shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a genius sometimes. Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“You just killed an entire box of Cracker Jacks. How the hell are you still hungry?”

“It takes a lot of food to power my big brain.”

“Come on Sam, let’s go feed him before he starts drinking coffee again on top of pre sugar. I don’t want to have to get him out of a tree again.”

“That was ONE TIME. And I could have gotten out. Eventually. I was almost out of my belt when Wanda got to me.”

“You were almost out of your pants and you damn near scandalized the poor girl.”

“Shut up Wilson. Food time. FEED ME SEYMOUR.”

Natasha, who had stood up, leaned over and kissed Clint. “If you shut up, I’ll buy a pizza just for you.”

“Deal.”

@the-ss-horniest-book-club @eurynome827 @cchellacat @daughterofsteven @sevans-is-my-weakness @sallycanwait68 @nano--raptor @buckys-broody-muffin @godofplumsandthunder​ @book-dragon-13​ @fuckyeahdarcylewis​ @fuckyeahwintershock​

[queensdivas]

A Damned Soul Chapter 1 (Gwil Fic)

So something new has popped out of my brain earlier this week and one thing that I love to do is avoid homework and papers as much as I possibly can! 

I’m warning yall right now! This isn’t gonna be a light hearted fan fic! It’s got witches, vampires, magic, death, fluff, angst and of course and eventually...smut!  I’m really gonna have fun with this one because I enjoy learning and writing everything under the sun.

I also will be posting this on Wattpad if it’s easier for you to read there instead of here. (TOTH-Girl is my username on Wattpad). If you would like to be tagged just let me know and I will be more than happy to tag you! 

Here we go ladies and gents..I hope you all enjoy this possible train wreck of a fic! 

Next Chapter

Masterlist 

@mexifangorl @leah-halliwell92 @bonafiderocketqueen 

The flame crackles, 

Spitting shining sparks 

And ashes and fire

Into the warming air.

It’s always fighting, 

It’s Always changing, 

Seems always so close

To life.

To it’s burning, 

But beyond its brilliance

The fire defies, denies

And defeats it’s death.

Patience, I believe, 

Is learned in the view.

Because with strength and defiance, 

The coals burn anew.

-Sandra Osborne 

I’d like to think that when you’re executed in public it’s because of the fact you’ve done something horribly wrong. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go anyhow? When you’re in the 13th century England.. eh. Not so much. Being a woman is already hard enough in this time. Being a women whose about to be burned at the stake because she's a full blooded witch..just absolutely peachy. 

“BURN HER!” The village began to scream as I was beginning to enter the village by the priest. A village that once welcomed me to heal their sick, to help women give birth without passing away, and even teach them simple remedies. And now that a church has brought their God...Well..you see how it’s going now. 

Escorted to the top of the wood pile then was shoved against the wooden stake as I just started into the soul of man who dragged me out of my home. The priest...hypocritical bastard! My wrists were bound so tight that it was beginning to cut through my skin already when I tried to at least get somewhat comfortable before I die..and might as well spew the truth and call the priest out for being an absolute hypocrite!

“You poor minded fool who has a twelve year old locked in the basement of the church. Tell me. Doesn’t your God tell you to love all men! To love thy neighbor! Great job at loving thy neighbor you old bastard. I’d like to remind you that your savior Jesus hung around a prostitute in his life when he was preaching your word! Yet he loved her because he preached to love thy neighbor! You are all massive hypocrites who are so caught up in your daft religion that you’ve forgotten the true meaning of love! Go on then! Burn me! It will make you feel better that the only thing you have in your life is religion! I refuse to give you the benefit of me begging for my life!” Screaming to them as moed their torches towards the oil soaked wood. The priest opened his bible to start spewing bible verses from the wretched book! 

“I condemn they to die by fire for going against the nature of God's will! By the spirit of judgement and the spirit of burning! For it is on this day that atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you! You will be cleaned from all your sins before the Lord! Be not conformed to this world! But be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind! That ye may prove what is good, and what is acceptable, and perfect for the will of God! In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit! May God have mercy on your soul! Any final words before you are taken to the almighty.” His final words echoed in my mind as I looked out into the crowd..

“I’ve been good to you...I’ve been good to all of you as you have been for me. Those who are sane..please hear my final words and I hope that they carry with you through time. Do not follow the path that this priest has laid out because he is a liar...a crook..and no religion should make one kill another! True religion should be love..not execution like this man.” Grinning at the priest as he slammed the Bible shut to walk towards one of the villagers. Yanking the torch from one of them and holding it right over the oil. 

“I condemn you to hell!” He screamed then I tried to lean down close to him with my grin still bright.

“Can’t wait to see you down there then.” Leaning back up then taking one last glance through the crowd. 

His eyes were glowing red even though he wore a black cloak to hide himself from the audience. Though a normal human wouldn’t be able to see this, but I could see him in complete rage. He’s smart enough to know that stepping in would only kill him in the end...he’s already lost most of energy for being outside in the first place. 

We just...we never get the timing right in our lives.. it’s in the end when everything begins playing back again..and again…

~~~~~

The last book from the moving back fit perfectly on the shelf! Nieve floated the last jar of sunflower seeds up to the top of the seed shelf. Now all that’s left is to bless and protect the new building then step up the tablet for payment and we’re open for business!

Nieve yanked down the tapestry we had over the wall to reveal the new mural she had painted on the only empty wall space we have that’s not a bookshelf. The mural was a woman out in a very high grass field with the sun setting. The setting was a very green blue that had white clouds spread across the entire wall. 

“Probably my best work since Campbelltown.” Nodding in agreement as I slid down the ladder so I could see the mural and all its glory. 

“Beautiful. Nice job Nieve.” Telling her as she put her arm on my shoulder. 

“Is everything ready?” She walked over to her pile of brushes so that she could start cleaning up before we open. 

“All that’s left is setting up the tablet. Spices and herbs are on the shelves, books in place, and the reading table is all set to go.” It’s not that I don’t mind that I do most of the work for setting up the shop. I love setting it up because everything has a place and needs to be done right. Sort of a perfectionist. 

“Tell ya what. You get the tablet all set up and I’ll get the place ready for casting out the bad jujus. Should I use cedar or pine this time?” She walked into the back and began cleaning her brushes. 

“Cedar.” Yelling back as I took a glimpse around the shop for a moment. Shop number four I believe now. Don’t think that we go absolutely bankrupt then move on to the next town. On the contrary. As witches we can make our own money if done right and it was our last order given through our teacher Madame Rouge. 

Madame Rouge was our mentor who trained us in the ways of becoming a grande witch. She would always move her shops to small towards across the Uk and even Ireland some times. The ultimate goal of moving around constantly is that we help fellow witches and warlocks who either hide in the shadows from the world or even help them with perfecting their spells. 

But all good things must come to an end. One night Madame Rouge decided to take the evening off so she could rest and we found her passed away in the night with a note for her after life instructions. The first goal being that we continue her work on going across the country to help

Madame Rouge was my mentor who helped me with spells, hexes, becoming one with the gifts I’ve acquired. It was as if I found my new home with Madame Rouge and Nieve eventually joined us after she turned 18. But all good things must come to an end. Madame Rouge was reaching the end of her life and told us to go across the country to save other fellow witches and warlocks who are casted out. When she passed away. Nieve and I set off on our journey throughout the entire country with now calling an abandoned library home in Balmedie Scotland! 

Finishing up the last few details on the tablet as Nieve closed her book to grab the sage that also had rosemary, juniper, and a hit of cedar in it. Rosemary allows for fresh new starts, juniper for bringing a comfort feeling for us and any new sort of people coming in and out, then the cedar for basically cutting off those bad jujus out of the store. 

“You almost ready?” Nodding as I put the tablet onto the stand as I pulled out my rose gold evil eye necklace and grabbed the box of matches from under the counter. She lit the end of the sage as we began with the door and saying the incantation. 

“Blessed be that light energy to come..blessed be that good souls wander through our store.” It’s a simple incantation that does the trick about 90% of the time. It’s almost impossible to keep bad juju away from your living dwelling because it’s as powerful as good juju. Besides. Incantations don’t need to be super long anyhow since if you’re in an emergency situation, you won’t have the time to say a one hundred word spell. 

Once we finished the doorway, a customer already poked their head in as I let her continue onward with the blessing. It was a very old lady with her tiny pug and came into the store. She looked around for a moment as I approached her with my hands rubbing together. 

“Good afternoon! Welcome to Le Rouge! Is there anything I can help you with?” She snapped her fingers so the pug would sit then flicking her finger to lock the door to the shop. OH god..did we enter ministry territory? 

“My name is Madame Maia Whyte. I’m from The Ministry obviously and I’ve heard about you two through the grapevine. You must be Robin La Torneau and Nieve Macleenan We’ve been watching you two for the past few years. The ministry is very pleased on what you two are trying to do and are sitting very well with us. If you should require anything from us then feel free to give us a call.” A business card came out of her pocket as I looked to see only a number on the card. 

“Thank you Madame Whyte. We’ll keep this handy.” Smiling as she nodded then proceeded to leave the shop. Didn’t realize we were causing that much good in the UK anyhow. I know our fellow brothers and sisters over in America are having a difficult time with everyone hating each other. 

The Parliament of Witches and Warlocks was formed a little after the 9th century when we were beginning to be cooked alive, being drowned, and hung by humans who were scared of us. But it wasn’t just humans who were coming after us after a while. Would you believe me if I told you vampires are also running around this world of ours causing mayhem? Just sounds unbelievable doesn’t it? We can cross that bridge in the future with that whole long history lesson. 

This is it! A new store! A fresh start in a little off the coast town. What could possibly happen to us out here!? 

[twodaysintojune]

Sigh No More

Supernatural, Sastiel, Warnings-None

One Shots Masterlist, Long Stories Masterlist 

Find me at AO3

Sastiel Creations Challenge | twodaysintojune

↳ Theme: SONG | Prompt: Sigh No More, Mumford and Sons

The confessional was stuffy and dry at the same time and it was hard to stay alert in the silence that enveloped the entire church that Thursday evening. More silent than what Father Wilkins had ever felt before.

Every year, every month, every week the amount of people that went to church decreased; at least on his town. There was no time for theological introspection in today’s society when you could watch a bunch of people doing silly stuff on your phone all day long and the only regular visit of the last years, Mrs. Hopkins, had passed away almost a month ago of old age. The worst was that apparently half of her missing family had appeared out of nowhere and were now fighting all over each other about the inheritance. There were rumours at town that the sudden death of one of her sons was somehow involved with it.

Father Wilkins sighed, it was hard even for himself to stay compassionate sometimes and he only went along with the motions hoping that one day this awful feeling of hollowness these situations gave him would eventually go away.

The loud clank of the entrance door weaving on it’s hinges announced the visit of a person into the church. Father Wilkins heard the long footsteps make way to the confessional and the tiny door opening. He saw the shadow of the incredibly tall man behind the wooden lattice kneel in front of it. After a bit of a struggle in the tiny booth he took a breath, crossed himself with a quick motion and began to talk.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been six years since my last confession and it’s been fifteen days since I last prayed to god."

“What brings you here today?”

The man stood still for a moment like he was assessing something and then gave out a soft laugh.

“To be honest I’m not even sure if this is the right place to be at.”

Another man with wavering faith. Father Wilkins wondered if he was ready to tackle something like this at the moment.

“Well, there must be a reason for you to have decided to come, how is your life?”

“Oh, everything’s peachy” The irony well accented in the man’s words “I’ve been fighting trying to save people’s lives for years now and I thought it was good and then I…” The man stopped for a moment too long and then sighed “I lost my son. God took him away from me.”

Father Wilkins hitched a breath.

“And how does that make you feel right now?”

“I…” soft shaken laughter “I feel so upset. I feel impotent, insignificant and lost and so, so angry! I’m so angry at god for taking him but I’m so much more angry at myself for not being able to do a thing! Because I was there. I WAS there and just with a snap of his fingers Jack was dead!”

“...the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

An ironic rough laugh from behind the latticework.

“He just likes to have fun looking at us drown in despair.”

Father Wilkins turned his gaze down to his crossed hands, he was as much a believer in God and His plans as any good devotee but he perfectly understood why such a situation would drive a man mad enough to make him say these kind of things with such resent. He kept quiet enough to hear the man stifle a sob.

“...It’s just so unfair. Jack was such a good child. He had all this potential to do good, to be good and now he’s gone because of a stupid whim or tantrum or, or whatever… And I’m still here and I… I don’t even feel like getting out of my bed in the morning because I no longer see the point on anything at all when I realize my life has been one strife after another non-stop and that god was right there, watching every single one of my actions and never did a thing to help!”

The man stopped abruptly when he realized his voice had gone a tone louder. He continued after taking in a breath and calming down a bit.

“And you know Dean, my brother, he told me that we had to keep going and fighting. That helping others was still a good thing to do no matter how little power we had to change anything else...” Father Wilkins nodded in silent agreement with this brother the man was talking about “But I still don’t really feel like anything’s worth fighting for anymore. I mean, in the end everyone dies and some will go to hell and some will go to heaven but ultimately it doesn’t matter whether we helped them or not because it’s not our lives and most likely we’re not even free to take decisions for ourselves, heck, I don’t even know if I’ll land in heaven or hell or just disappear into the empty and the worst is that I don’t care. I don’t care anymore because I thought all of our actions meant something because we took them but it turns out that we have just been jumping the obstacles that god placed on our path...”

It was obvious the man had stopped his diatribe, mostly because he had run out of breath and anger, Father Wilkins sighed and silently prayed to God to find the right words to help this man.

“You know Son, I believe that even when you don’t realize it right now, there’s a part deep in your soul that still wants to believe.”

He heard a soft crushed sigh behind the latticework, by the sound of it the man was resting his forehead on it. It was the most defeated action Father Wilkins had seen on all of the people he had helped confess and it broke his heart.

“And it’s likely you’re not going to see it right now, or in a month, or in a year but even if you have not been able to find solace in God, there’s still a lot of good worth fighting for in the world. Take your brother for example, isn’t what’s left of your family worth fighting for?”

Father Wilkins would have included any other family members if he knew this man better but time had taught him that some times mentions of family were not taken nicely by everyone and that he should not make assumptions on other people’s lives. The man let out a soft snicker fondly, it had been the right call this time.

“Yeah, it’s worth fighting for.”

“It’s normal to feel the way you do. And it’s normal to feel betrayed but I believe that what’s most important right now is for you to mourn your son properly so that you’re able to move forward after that.”

“Even when I don’t know where that forward is?”

“Trust me Son, you’ll know when the time comes.”

Another soft huff. Father Wilkins saw the shadow of the man’s head nod softly, most likely pondering on his words.

“Thank you, Father.”

“You’re welcome Son”

The man shifted but he stopped after a moment.

“Uhm, so what is my penance?”

“Penance for what?”

“For… uh, cursing against god?”

“I don’t believe you deserve any kind of penance for grieving the loss of your son.”

He looked at the man’s silhouette move taken aback for a moment and then bend down his head.

“Thank You.”

It was more of a whisper but in the silence of the church Father Wilkins heard the heartfelt relief and gratefulness of the man. He hummed a nod, trying to avoid destroying the moment with unnecessary words. After a brief minute of reflection, the man moved to stand up and step away from the confessional. Leaving the door ajar.

Father Wilkins waited until he heard the entrance door once more and he stepped out of the confessional to move his legs a bit. He saw a man that had apparently been leaning over St. Hubertus’ statuette checking it up. He turned his deep blue eyes to meet Father Wilkins’ gaze.

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought I was alone, were you waiting for a confession?”

The man smiled fondly, almost like there was something funny about the Father’s words.

“Not really but thank you.”

Father Wilkins approached the man wondering how he was able to stand the stuffy heat of the church with that thick overcoat.

“Are you interested in religious imagery? Or perhaps you wanted to ask a favor to the Saint.”

The man turned to look at him questioningly before Father Wilkins glanced at the statuette.

“Oh, I was just looking at it. I had never seen a statuette of this particular saint in a church before.”

“It’s not really common but it was a gift and you know what they say about the gifted horse.”

The man hummed amused and stretched his hand towards him.

“Castiel”

Father Wilkins raised his eyebrows, he didn’t recall any Castiel on his angelic lore so either he was getting old or this man’s parents had become pretty inventive. He met the man’s hand.

“Father Wilkins, you can call me Albert though, something tells me you’re not much for names and titles.”

Castiel smiled openly. Since there was nobody else in the church he made small talk with the man about everything and nothing, he found out that he was actually investigating the case of Mrs. Hopkins’ son and gladly gave away what little information he had on them. He also showed him the beautiful image of Jesus on the cross gilded with gold leaf that she had gifted the church not much before her demise.

“She was a very good woman, I am sure she is in heaven right now.”

Castiel hummed in agreeance.

“She certainly is.”

After a brief moment of silence on behalf of the woman, Castiel bid his farewell to the man holding his hand once more.

“Thank you for your time Father.”

“Not at all. It was good to have some company for a while… I hope I don’t mind you but it’s been bothering me all this time. What thing does the angel Castiel stand for?”

Castiel looked at him a bit surprised. No one had ever asked him that before.

“Thursdays. I’m—Castiel is the angel of Thursdays.”

“Then I guess it’s not a coincidence we met today.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up in mirth.

“Apparently not. You’re a good man Albert, I’m glad we met.”

And with that Castiel left the place. Sam was waiting for him at the diner across the square and waited until he was seated and had thanked the waitress for the glass of water in front of him.

“So?”

“I checked all of the statues and imagery at the church but nothing was cursed. We know that Mrs. Hopkins’ son was found impaled on a cross but I honestly don’t think Father Wilkins has anything to do with this case Sam.”

“Yeah, me neither. I hope Dean finds something with the relatives we didn’t see yesterday.”

Castiel hummed, they kept quiet while Sam ate his salad.

“Sam I…” Castiel sighed “I’m sorry.”

Sam looked at him surprised.

“For what?”

“For not being here for you.”

Sam looked at his friend unable to understand what he was talking about. Castiel took in a breath that he definitely needed before talking once more.

“I… I was so upset when Chuck killed Jack that I didn’t even know how to help you at all. When Dean told me to give you both some space I selfishly took the chance to avoid facing the problem but I cannot let things go this way.”

Sam had left his fork on the plate, he tried to drown the lump forming in his throat.

“I was so stupid. I didn’t realize that we were all feeling the same way.”

Castiel was an angel, he had naturally heard everything he told the Father at the church. Sam’s gaze fell down onto his plate, he didn’t feel like holding his eyes against such profound tone of blue right now. He felt Castiel’s warm hand gingerly glide over his before letting it rest hesitantly on top of it.

“...Maybe I’m being selfish but I don’t want to stay apart forever.”

Sam sniffled. In a moment of weakness his hand tangled his fingers between Castiel’s.

“Yeah, me neither.”

He failed to keep the quivering smile he had managed to give to his friend but Castiel didn’t lose the meaning of Sam’s expression. He kept his hold on Sam’s hand also smiling sadly. Castiel turned his gaze down for a moment and then looked upwards nervously. Sam saw Castiel debating something in his mind before his sight resolved. There was something in the way the seraph was looking at him right now that made Sam’s eyes widen and his stomach flutter for a second.

“Sam I—”

“Hey, hands off my little brother! I haven’t properly given you the talk yet.”

Dean arrived pointing a finger and a killing glare at Castiel while motioning the other towards Sam for him to move over. Castiel straightened up startled by Dean’s sudden intromission but tightened his hold on the other man in clear defiance. Sam on his side blushed wildly at the seraph’s actions but still managed to give Dean a well deserved bitchface.

“Shut up jerk.”

[jnvnamuco]

She's the one: My one true love

What was true love like?

How did it arrived?

Let me share mine.

It was October 19, 2019 when I can truly say that the search is over. I was standing in the waiting shed in front of McDonalds PRC. Passers by can easily notice that I was waiting for someone important to arrive. I don’t know what to do. I was trying to calm myself by listening to music, but I know that the nervousness that I felt can make me pee in my pants. Luckily, it didn’t happened.

A woman of exquisite beauty and grace walked towards me. I was mesmerized. I felt like I was in the movies when everything was in slow-mo. And as she came near me, I was convinced that Chronosphere was possible, because I experienced it first hand. Everything went still and were blurry, except her. 

She looked like an angel. No, she’s really an angel. I can clearly remember what she wore that day. Black blouse and trousers. Beautiful, decent but scorching hot. She gave me a clear picture of what Maria Clara will look like today. I hope she saw me as Crisostomo Ibarra and not Pilosopong Tasyo. But I guess she did. She told me later on in our relationship that she had a crush on me. 

She’s cold and her eyes looked like an assassin who was ready to kill. And if she’s the one who’ll take my life, I will never fight back. She’s freaking scary to the point that you’ll just behave. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know how to approach a woman. I looked like a fifth grader that was beside his crush. Frozen solid. 

Despite her coldness, she’s damn demure and I never realized how attractive a demure woman can be. She gave me a shy smile and I felt like I was having a heart attack. My heart was beating fast like a racecar running at full speed. I started asking myself the question “Lord, is she the one?” And in a split of a second, I know He answered “Yes” because I felt goosebumps all over.

Our first date was in Rizal Park. I can clearly remember how we walked around the park with none of us talking. We sat in the grassy field in front of the Quirino Grandstand. We opened our selves to each other. It was a very simple date, but very romantic and memorable. I can clearly remember that as the sky started to turn purple, we confessed our feelings for each other. I remembered how you blushed that time and how you buried your face in your hands. We walked holding hands in the outskirts of Manila. There were trucks honking around us but I never heard anything except your voice. It was exactly 12mn of the following day that you gave “us” a try. The rest was history. 

This woman prefers to be called Peachy because if you call her in her real name, you are in trouble.

Am I right, Baby?

Hey, I am just joking! 

She’s six years older than me but she looks younger. She loves Taylor Swift and Sarah Geronimo. She has a lot of friends, despite being introverted. She sings and dances well when no one is around. She can play Tekken 7 and beat you perfectly. She loves to travel in different places. She loves hard because her love is pure and unconditional. 

Her wisdom is simply amazing. How she views life is refreshing. She knows what to say at the right moment at the right time. She’s the type of woman that will understand you even if you don’t understand myself. She’s a genuine person. She’ll show whenever she’s happy, sad, angry or frustrated. She’s someone you can rely on when times are rough.

She’s bossy and intimidating at times. She can be annoyingly forgetful sometimes. She’s really hard-headed when she wants something. She’s brutally frank and a bully. She’s silent, yet her presence can be felt all over. Yet, despite all of this, she’s still my last and my only one. 

She’s a good daughter, a responsible sibling, a professional career woman and a true friend. She’s the woman that every man will call a keeper. I am blessed that she’s my loving partner and she carries my first child in her womb. I can’t explain the excitement that I feel whenever I think that one day, she’ll become my wife.

I met different women along the way, but she’s simply the best. People will always tell someone is better than her and there’s an element of truth in it. But even if I’ll encounter women much better than her , I’ll always choose her. She’s the good woman in the book of Proverbs. She’s a rare treasure not all men can find. She’s simply amazing. 

My Peachy is my true love. She brought out the real me. She accepted me for who I am and inspired me to become better. She loved me regardless of my flaws. She never tolerated my bad habits. She patiently helped me change for the better, despite being hurt in the process. She always trusts in me even without any assurances. She loves me genuinely and without any condition.

She’s my true love because genuine love brings the best out of people. It never tolerates evil and will always be patient in understanding and forgiving. It’s ready to be hurt and to sacrifice. It never ceases to trust and believe in one’s goodness. It never expects anything in return. It is constantly good, truthful and unconditional because the source of it is Love Himself, our Lord Jesus Christ. When love makes you feel His presence and when it manifests His teachings, then it is pure and genuine.

True love will only be found if we know Him and we experience how His love feels like. It is only when our eyes will be opened and recognize what is true from what is not. Take your time and don’t rush. Enjoy the gift of single-blessedness. Go out with your family and friends. Make a name in your chosen path in life. Spend each day seeking for Him above everything else. Because when He decides that the time has finally come, it will always be worth the wait. 

Because once you find true love, you’ll never look around. 100% Satisfaction guaranteed. 

PS: Of all the compliments I said, I forgot something. She’s beautiful inside and out, with or without any make-up on.

[gregorsamsadementiaravenway]

Stray notes after watching The Last Jedi

Or: why does this movie just keep getting worse whenever I remember it?

The notes are after the cut just in case someone hasn’t seen the film yet or doesn’t want a long ass bullet point post in their dash. Some of them are serious and well thought-out, some are nitpicky and some are there just for the heck of it.

“Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.” - Why, that’s just peachy, Rian! Too bad the future your selling is a little shit.

In general, Rian Johnson doesn’t seem to have much respect for the past. See tathrin’s post about all the things established in TFA that were turned upside down in this film, but I think Johnson doesn’t have much consideration for the original trilogy either, reducing Chewbacca to a background character and trying to replace “May the Force be with you” with some other, less inspired line.

Seriously, why are they saying “Godspeed”? Did monotheism reach a galaxy far, far away and they now, suddenly, have a notion of God? And, while were at it, why is “treacherous snake” a thing, now? Are there snakes in the Star Was universe? ‘Cause, so far, all animals have been on the fantastic side of things. What else is there? Do they have kittens??? That’s an important question...

The movie had A LOT of hamfisted comic relief. Of course there were some honestly funny scenes (I will forever laugh at Rey feeling the Force with her hand), but most of the jokes felt very out of place. For instance, the first scene, with Hux and Poe. I laughed my ass off at that interaction, but that’s an SNL sketch, not a Star Wars scene. I was half expecting Matt, the radar technician, to show up.

Seriously, someone should tell Rian Johnson that he isn’t directing Guardians of the Galaxy. In more than one scene, the excess of jokes killed what should’ve a truly great, emotional moment.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much indifference do I feel towards porgs?

The ammount of queerbaiting that went into promoting this film was insane. Look, actors on franchises like this one have media training, so whenever, say, Oscar Isaac ran his mouth about the possibility of Finn/Poe being canon, he was at least authorized by Disney to do so (worst case scenario, he was instructed to sell this narrative). I didn’t particularly care about the ship and I think Poe Dameron could’ve died in TFA without any harm to the franchise, but to hamfist that non-sensical romance between Finn and Rose after feeding the fans’ hopes for a gay pairing was, in my opinion, downright cruel.

And don’t even get me started on Poe and Rey’s meaningful gaze at the end of the film, with Poe going all “I know” as if he’s Han Solo or some hot shit like that! Poe/Rey is the worst possible ship to become canon. Yes, the worst. Yes, you heard me, worse than Reylo.

Speaking of Reylo: after TFA, I said that I low-key shipped them ‘cause that’s the kind of fucked up ship I like. Look, there are people in this website who like to wear diapers and want to fuck Pennywise, so, screw you, I’m not apologizing for wanting to read fics about a fictional pairing made up of two adults. HOWEVER, this is not the sort of thing I want to be canon. From the get go, my opinion on Rey’s official love life has been “either she ends up with Finn or she ends up alone”. That being said, I think they handled the relationship between her and Kylo Ren very well in this film. I’m glad they didn’t deny the fucked up sexual tension that was going on there, especially coming from Ren’s side, and chose to play into it. A failed redemption arc fits them perfectly and Kylo Ren’s “please” when he asks Rey to rule beside him was a great moment for the character and one of the few truly emotional moments of the film.

But that thing were they get to hit on each other through the Force, sharing sad stories and touching hands? Yeah, I’m pretty certain I’ve read that fic. Actually, I’m pretty certain I’ve read about three fics like that.

Let’s keep on the Kylo Ren track for now, then: he did get some very nice character development in this film. The Last Jedi was more his than any other character’s, even Luke. For a minute there, before the movie came out, I thought they were going to make some changes to him due to the whole backlash, but they went full “overgrown angsty kid” with him in a way that actually made him more compelling. I like the way Luke’s fear ended up pushing a conflicted teenager into the Dark Side and that Kylo is still very much stuck at that moment. As usual with Sith and Sith by-products, Kylo Ren is moved by anger, and his anger feels much more real after this little bit of backstory.

Who is Snoke, though? Are they going to explain that in the next movie? It feels like they should’ve done it in this one, but I hope they at least give him some context before the trilogy is over.

Sooooo... Did your conflicted antagonist cladded in black, with black hair falling all over his face, just trick his bald, deformed Dark Lord by using his occlumency powers? *Owen Wilson voice* Wow.

“The Supreme Leader is dead. Long live the Supreme Leader.” - A perfect example of a really amazing moment botched by comic relief, ie, Snoke’s little tongue falling out of his dead body.

After the film ended, @robogigante​​ complained a lot about Hux’s transformation from an actual, threatening villan into a punchline, and, you know what? He’s right. There’s a scene there that looks like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I hate evil, square-headed BB-8?

I’m sort of glad Rey’s parents aren’t anyone important. Star Wars relies too much on heritage and it’s a nice change having a hero who isn’t Space Jesus or Space Jesus’ direct lineage. Her scene in the cave was incredibly beautiful.

They did point to something else in TFA, though, implying heavily that her origin was important and that Kylo Ren already knew about her. That was some Moffat level of badly written plot twist right there.

There’s something Emma Watson-y about Daisy Ridley. This is neither a compliment nor a complaint, just something I hadn’t noticed before.

Both Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver grew a lot as actors since the last movie, especially Driver. Even though it’s still hard to take Kylo Ren seriously sometimes due to Driver’s cry-baby face, he’s way more convincing in his rage and intensity than he was in TFA, where his acting felt a little too mechanical.

However, some of the other actors aren’t living up to their potential. John Boyega’s charisma is extremely underused and I know for a fact that Domnhall Gleeson can do a lot better than what he was given here. In a couple of scenes, even Hamill and Fisher seemed a little uncomfortable in their roles.

“Shit, we’ve already signed Lupita’s check! Gotta shove her in here, somewhere!” - I’m so sorry, honey. You are so beautiful and talented... You deserved way better than that.

Kelly Marie Tran is adorable and I absolutely love her in interviews and such. She seems like a delightful person. However, her character was completely unnecessary. Her only purpose was to serve as a future love interest to Finn, and I’ve made my thoughts about that pairing quite clear already.

“...it’s saving the ones we love...” - BITCH, YOU’VE KNOWN HIM FOR WHAT? A DAY?

As a matter of fact, all of that storyline felt completely unnecessary. It was as if the writers didn’t know what to do with Finn so they gave him a spunky sidekick and a pointless mission just to kill time. I found myself wishing he had spent the whole movie in a coma, and that’s really sad, because I really like John Boyega and was hoping he would become a strong protagonist for the franchise.

Another thing @robogigante​ pointed out (and I’m quoting him ‘cause I know he’s not making a post of his own) is that Holdo had no reason whatsoever to hide her plan from Poe or anyone else in the Resistance. She just... didn’t like Poe Dameron that much...

Excessive jokes aside, casino planet was okay and helped flesh out the Star Wars universe a little bit more. However, much like Phasma, Benicio Del Toro’s character (whose name I already forgot) was just another Boba Fett, all flash and no substance, and I particularly hate that “squeaky clean abused little children representing hope” crap. It’s one of the tackiest tropes in existence.

I did get the feeling that that kid is going to join the Resistance on the next movie. Like they’re going to do a ten year jump to justify Leia’s disappearance/death. It would also help the Rebels to get their shit back together, Kylo Ren to gain more control over the First Order and Rey to learn some more about the Force in order to meet her fate. The existence of that child is still horrible and that ending was so over the top I can’t even put it into words, but it’s a good hook for a leap that, if handled well, could be very good for the story.

I also got the feeling that they originally inteded to kill one member of the original trio per film. That would’ve been cool. Too bad Leia will have to die off screen.

Was it just me or is the timeline in this movie really weird? Poe’s plan seems to take place entirely in a day, maybe two, while Rey apparently spends at least a week in Luke’s island.

I’m glad Carrie Fisher got to have at least one badass Force user scene before dying. Her flight among the debris of the Rebel cruiser was a beautiful reminder of how powerful the Force can be, on par with Luke’s astral projection, not to mention a gorgeous scene in its own right.

Holdo and Leia definitely had a torrid love affair after the Organa-Solo divorce came through. No one will ever convince me otherwise.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I love the crystal foxes?

There was a preoccupying absence of wipe transitions and epic soundtrack inserts. Actually, I don’t even remember hearing any music at all. The editing was way too conservative. It didn’t even feel like a Star Wars movie, sometimes.

How is it possible that The Force Awakens was basically a remake of A New Hope and still felt more daring that The Last Jedi? Look, we already know you’re not killing any of the characters ‘cause they have to come back for the next installment, but raise those stakes a little bit, jeez! Give Kylo Ren and Snoke more conflict before their face-off, give Rey an opportunity to actually scare Luke with something that matters, give Finn and Poe a mission that actually means something to the Resistance, not a MacGuffin to keep them busy... Anything!

The Last Jedi is actually an okay-ish movie, to be honest, but, in a way, I think I disliked it even more than the prequels. Sure, The Phantom Menace is objectively a much worse film, but at least it had soul. George Lucas’ midichlorian and CGI packed soul, but soul nonetheless. The Last Jedi has nothing. I know Star Wars movies are all about the money, let’s not delude ourselves that this is in anyway high art, but this one just felt like the biggest money grabber of all. There is no personal investment in it whatsoever and no sign of what makes Star Wars Star Wars in the first place.

When’s Lando coming back?

BONUS: I am never watching a fucking 3D movie again in my life. The background always seems out of focus, it’s too expensive and I hate putting glasses on top of my glasses. I don’t care if I have to wait a month to watch the next Star Wars, I don’t care if I get spoilers, I’m not watching anything in 3D ever again.

[silver-handed]

“If you make one more stupid pun, I will literally stab you.” with cayde and vera shenanigans, and/or “You know I’m gonna win, right?” for vera/shaxx/sloane ?

HEY THESE TOOK WAY TOO LONG BUT HERE THEY ARE

Sloane belongs to one wonderful @gildedskeleton!!

Vera sliced through the ropes of the pulley system thefallen had set up, glad to finally have a moment away from the monster calledCayde, when Andal pinged her comms.

“What? What do you want?”

“You alright Ver’? You’re sounding a little tense.”

“I’m fine, Andal.Perfectly peachy.”

Andal gave an amused hum over the comms, obviously enjoyingher predicament. “He’s not that bad, is he?”

“Andal. Andal, you don’t understand. I haven’t had a moment’speace, it’s been constant-“

“Vera! I have a bone to pick with you!”

She looked to her right, barely suppressing her groan as shesaw Cayde approaching, his ghost transmatting the rib of something very largeand very old directly in front of her.

“…puns. Andal. Andal I can hear you laughing you fuck-“

“Sorry Vera! Gotta go, important Vanguard stuff to do.”

Vera made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat asthe other side of the comms went dead, knowing Andal was enjoying every momentof her hell. Bastard.

Cayde was beside her now, patting the massive bone in frontof him, obviously pleased with himself and whatever response he was imagining.

“Where did you find this? Why did you find this?”

“Hm? Oh, a fallen was lookin’ over it, so I figured it musthave been sorta important. Or not. Either way, the fallen is alright.”

Cayde pointed towards their right, and in the distance shecould make out the body of a fallen, propped up against a rock. Had Cayde…draggedit there?

Vera glanced back at him and he muttered something under hisbreath and shoved her sniper at her, urging her to look at the body. Shesnatched her gun back, narrowing her eyes behind her helmet before finallygiving in, raising the sight to her eye.

The fallen was propped up, one right arm giving a salutewhile the other was positioned almost sassily on its hip. The left arms were…gone.

“Cayde, what the fuck?”

“He’s all right! Get it?”

Vera lowered her sniper, still staring. She wasn’t going togive him the reaction he was hoping for, she wasn’t, so she turned on her heeland unsheathed her knife, returning to her previous job.

“Aw come on, that one was good!”

“…Cayde. You are my best friend in this whole wide world forsome reason, but I have never heard worse jokes in my life. Period.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again,eyeing her knife as he did so. “You knowwhat?”

“What?”

“I like to think I’m very…cleaver.”

“Cayde. Cayde Iswear, if you make one more stupid pun, I will literally stab you.”

“Well that’s not very-“

“Consider your next words carefully, asshole.”

“-knife of you.”

Vera was on him in a flash, pulling his hood down over hisface and wrestling him to the ground as he struggled to free himself. Theybarely heard the comms beep again over Cayde’s exaggerated and static-y screech,but they both paused as they heard Andal’s loud laughter.

“Andal! Andy, old buddy ol’ pal, please, you gotta stop her,she’s gonna murder me!”

“Vera, please don’t kill him. We need him.”

“He has a ghost, Andal, and he knows what he did.”

“…fair enough. Continue.”

The line went dead again, and Cayde’s offended gasp turnedinto a shout of horror as Vera pounced on him again, tying his cloak around hishead before shoving him away. Cayde stumbled for a second, trying to untie thecloak while blind, before his shoulders slumped and he sat down.

“Real mature, Vera.”

“Listen, I’ll untie you if you promise to stop with thepuns. Okay?”

“Okay, okay. I just seemed to get a little, ah, tied up inthem.”

Vera shoved him over again, stomping off as he cackledmanically.

“C’mon, one quick match before bed. No more crucible, just meand you on the mat, alright?”

Shaxx glances over his data pad, looking over Vera. Sheseems relaxed enough, grinning at him as she leans back on their counter. Butthat mischievous glint in her eye…

“You know I’m going to win, right?”

“Sure, big guy. Sure. But…”

“But?”

“If you’re so sure…then how about we make thingsinteresting? I get a friend to helpme-“

“I’m not going up against you and Cayde. I don’t have thepatience to find both of you at once, especially not with his puns.”

“No, no. Not Cayde. Someone…someone a lot better. Trust me.You’ll like them.”

Shaxx gives her another onceover before shrugging. It couldn’t be that bad then, could it?

Shaxx rounds the corner into the private training room,stopping dead in his tracks as he lays eyes on Vera.

She’s talking to a warlock.

The warlock.

Vera spots him just as he’s debating on back peddling-Lord Shaxx does not run, but, contrary topopular opinion, he does know when to make a tactical retreat—and waves himover, that evil smile on her lips again.

He hates how much he loves her, sometimes.

“Hey! This is Sloane, the new warlock I’ve been working withand telling you about. And the one you were, ah, bragging about earlier.”

Sloane smiles at him and there’s almost something shy aboutit, the cockiness he’d seen earlier in the crucible gone. She gives a smallwave at him and he gives one back without thinking, his stomach doing a tinyflip as he realizes that, fuck, Vera was right, this warlock is cute, too.

Vera claps her hands together, obviously already pleasedwith how things are going. “Alright then! Do we wanna get ready? Armor is greaton the field, but I don’t want to break my hands right now.”

Shaxx nods, turning to the benches so he can strip off the hardlayers of upper armor. He can feel eyes on him and when he glances back, Sloaneglances away, while Vera winks at him. A surge of pride rolls through him andhe stretches, showing off just slightly, and he grins under his helmet at thewolf whistle he gets in response from Vera.

He pauses for a moment when his hand reaches his helmet,realizing Sloane hasn’t seen him without it before. His hand drops from it as he debates inside of his head, trying to battle down the small surgeof nervousness, and Vera’s light touch on his arm pulls him out of it.

“Hey, you don’t haveto take it off if you don’t want to, okay? I know you like keeping it toyourself, and Sloane understands, too.”

He shakes his head at her, reaching up again to remove the helmet.If Vera trusted Sloane, then he could trust her, too.

Vera smiles at him, so much warmth and affection in her eyesthat he can barely stand it, and he feels the tips of his ears burn when shestands almost on her tip toes to give him the lightest kiss on his nose, hersmile now mirrored by his own.

She gives him another peck, this time of the lips, beforeturning to see if the warlock behind her is ready. Sloane nods, a small smileon her face, and he can see Vera’s grin even before she turns back around,leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“And when we win,she’s coming to dinner with us.”

She backs away from him and takes her place beside Sloane beforehe has time to protest or even process, and she pointedly ignores that look heshoots her before he takes up his own position.

It’s a five second countdownbefore the match begins, and he takes the moment to watch them. There’ssomething…predatory in the way they already are, like they’re molded to fightalong side each other, and Shaxx feels a jolt of excitement. If they’re as goodtogether as he thinks, this is going to be very interesting indeed.

They were andShaxx fucking hates it and he hates how much he loves it.

He think he stands a chance in the beginning, when the alarmsounds and Vera immediately makes a clumsy and aggressive lunge towards him. Hesidesteps it easily, turning to face her as she tumbles forward and spinsaround to face him. And then she’s making another lunge, tackling him aroundthe middle and clinging on to him, trying grapple him down and gain some sortof leverage.

She’s easily thrown off again and Shaxx is wondering what,exactly, she’s doing, when a weight hits him from behind and nearly topples himover.

Sloane.

He’d not been paying enough attention to her, too caught upin Vera’s strange behavior, and, as Sloane locks her legs around his torso andher arms around his neck, he realizes that Vera had specifically been trying todistract him.

Vera tries to take advantage of his predicament, going totake him out at the knees, but he grabs her and throws her while also trying tofight Sloane off. The warlock isn’t letting go, however, and he gets caught upwith her when Vera makes her next move, running at him and catching him aroundthe middle as she swings herself around, using her momentum to take him outfrom behind and sending him crashing to the ground.

For a split second he’s concerned that he’s going to hurt Sloane,coming down with so much force while she’s on his back, but she swings herselfaround in a split second, comfortably landing on his chest. He feels a flush onhis face that isn’t entirely exertion as he tries to buck her off, but Veraquickly pins his legs and hooks her chin over Sloane’s shoulder, grinning downat him.

“Told you we’d win, big boy.”

He groans in displeasure, tossing his arm over his face asthey both smile down at him.

“Fine. Fine. Dinner it is, then.”

He hears a small noise of confusion and looks up to see Sloanelooking between him and Vera, a small purple flush on her face that hadn’t beenas prominent a few moments ago. Vera grins back at her and Shaxx realizes, asthe blush deepens, that Vera hadn’t told her about the wager.

“Good! Me ‘n you and our Blueberry here are going to have agood time, I think. Don’t you?”

He makes an absent noise of affirmation, feeling his ownblush spread as Sloane glances down at him, wide eyed and almost purple at thispoint.

Traveler, but he wants to kiss her. And from the look Verais giving her, she’s thinking much the same.

Vera chuckles lowly in that smooth and wicked tone she getswhen she’s done something particularly evil, and picks herself up. Sloane remainsseated for a moment, still glancing back and forth between them, before Vera’slight touch on her arm has her scrambling up, offering a hand to Shaxx whileshe’s unable to look him in the eye.

Shaxx takes the hand and there is a small part of him in hismind—the part that he’s now named after Vera—that tells him he should pull herdown on top of him instead, but he doesn’t push his luck. He stands, toweringover the smaller warlock, and Vera hands him his things with a small smile onher lips.

“So, we’re getting d-dinner then?” Sloane stutters, andShaxx can see the affection in Vera’s eyes, so much like what she had given himearlier.

“It seems so?”

“Only,” Vera says, handing Sloane her things as well, “ifyou two are okay with it still. But if you are, then tomorrow night at ourplace?”

Sloane nods, a broad and bright grin starting to spread overher face as they walk together towards the door.

“I’m going this way, I’ll-I’ll see you guys then!”

Shaxx and Vera return her excited and nervous little wave,and they pretend they don’t hear Buddy’s exclamation of happiness theyround the corner.

Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to call her out on herexcitement when they both devolve into little exclamations, leaning on each otheras they recall just how cute their sweet Blueberry was.

[lachalaine]

Hey look, it's Jackie's birthday. And hey look, it's a gift from Touya! AND HEY LOOK, HE -- really uh. Went. Overboard this time. The gift turns out to be a painting. A miniature framed recreation of the Birth of Adam. Except Adam is Touya, and God is Jackie. And it's extremely gaudy and tasteless and wow look at that renaissance era nudity, hoo boy. As for the real Touya who bestowed this gift on Jackie? He's smirking like a fool, as if DARING her to hang this THING on the wall for all to see.

Jackie’s 23rd Birthday !!

Uh oh. It was Touya. Touya on her birthday. Touya carrying agift. Touya handing it to her. Touya now smiling at her like he was planningsomething very Touya-like. Which would not bode well for anyone who’s name didn’tsound like ‘Touya’.

She was almost too terrified to unwrap it.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” She asks instead,deadpan as can be in her manner of greeting. It isn’t much; certainly not theway you should be greeting someone who’d gone out of their way to provide her sucha – kind gesture. Selfless. Thoughtful. Sweet.

…she didn’t think any of those words would apply to whatTouya was giving her, honestly. Was it women’s intuition that told her that? Or just too much timespent together with him? Or maybe it was that shit eating grin spread wide across his face?

Whatever it was, she had no clue. But her brain was ringing warningbells in her head, in a repetitive manner that she belatedly realized sounded remarkably alike to the familiar barkof her Delphox. Weird.

—- maybe she should just give him the benefit of thedoubt.

With somewhat of a heavy sigh, the female shakes her head torid herself of such suspicious thoughts, before doing her best to genuinelysmile at him as she gingerly reaches over to accept the gift in hand. It’s notlike there was a bomb in there right? “Thank you, Touya. You shouldn’t have.” Sheutters softly as fingertips delicately begin to uncover the gift. Even despiteher concerns over his intentions, it’s hard to deny the sense of childlike joythat begins to thrum within her at the thought of having received any present at all.

A resounding joy – so innocent, kind and naive – that abruptlyturns to entirely abject horror as soon as she gets the wrapping off.

“Oh my god.”

More like “Oh. I am God.” In this gorgeous rendition, atleast. Complete with the whole package of dreamy looks and full frontal nudity,ho ho ho!

She was currently debating screaming. 

Mahogany hues roamed over the painting as her mouth dropped further and further with every second she stared. Hand reaches towards her chest, almost as though she neededto cover herself to keep herself decent, even if it was Touya that was the one that wascompletely bare naked. Paint me like one of your French girls, eh? The female couldn’t seem to turn away, peering down at the painting as she cringed, gazing over details andtrying, trying to make sense of thewhole damn thing.

Were her boobs really that prominent from afar, holy fuck! And Touya’s body - well, obviously they’d both seen each other in less than nothing before but - 

Wait, hold up. Bigger question.

Whose fucking bodies were used as the reference????

“W – w – wh – “ Any chance of her getting a reply to her suddenlypressing questions were otherwise hampered by the acquirement of a rather suddenstutter. Or maybe that was just her brain breaking down, who really knew anymore? She’dseemed to have stopped breathing however, you could be certain of that much.

And then – after a short while of what seems to be her brain fullyshutting down and then rebooting – it comes. 

“Why?”

Useless question. Absolutely useless. In all her months of knowing this man, did Touya everactually need a reason to doanything?

She wished he did.

“I – I mean I have some concerns.” She splutters as her voicepitches upwards in alarm, turning the frame back and forth, trying to maybe findsomething a little more of substance to the gift, maybe a clue or a joke or anote that said something along the lines of “Hey! You didn’t think I actuallypaid to have someone paint this really, reallygaudy ass picture of us in varying states of undress, right?” After all, thatexcuse of a dress on her painted form was more of a loincloth and it was very clingy. Very, very clingy, Jesus Christ. 

…there had to be a reason for this, right? A rational one? Ametaphor maybe, of some sort?

Like how the pair of them always trying to peek at eachother naked was now somehow immortalized in painting for all eternity?

A Delphox in the middle of their fingertips would have madeit all the more on point.

…oh lord. She wanted to cry.

Mahogany hues gazed upwards at Touya in blank dismay, unsurewhether to kill him now or just laugh. Or kill him while laughing. Being his friend wasmaking her lose what was left of her sanity it’d seemed, so trust that this particularinstance would be the most appropriate thing to finally knock her over theedge.

Aaaahahahahahah, she wanted to wring his neck. But that –that seemed to be exactly what he wantedher to do, judging by how smug he now seemed to be as he sat there watching herinternal meltdown. She wasn’t entirely sure what his intentions fully were but Touyaalways did seem to have a penchant for messing with her. That or he just did it naturally, she wasn’t certain anymore. 

He was probably luring her into doing something. Murdering him perhaps? Maybe.For how else would anyone have reacted? There was no way in hell anyone sanecould possibly appreciate something so– so –

Ah.

That made sense.

Bright smile crops up on her visage as she ever so abruptly beams athim, almost as though a switch in her head had suddenly turned on. There’s a hint of mania nowglimmering in her eyes, but she wouldn’t dare speak of it. Wouldn’t let him get the better of her this time. Nope. No siree. Not a snowballschance in all the blazing flames of hell.

Ah, her pride. Fuck her.

“It’s beautiful,Touya. Absolutely – “ She choked. “Wonderful! This thing, the artistry and the details are so on point, and it’s so – so – “ Jackie resisted the urge to winceas she peered at the painting once more. “Painfullyobvious that it’s me. And it’s you! Because,you know. Body type. Eyes. Hair. The whole fucking caboodle.” She wasn’t sure she still wanted to ask who the body references were, honestly. It was difficult enough just staring at herself, how much more if she started examining him?

They were doing that enough in real life, thank you very much. And she was digging herself into a grave. She was probably goingto cry herself to sleep tonight. But that was fine. That was all peachy perfectly fine. 

What was important was that she did not let him win.

“You look very good in this. In fact – it looks so good,that I think I’ll hang it up. Right here, in my living room!” She exclaims asshe brings herself to her feet, walking right over to an empty spot on the wallwhere she could finally place it and once Touya had left, could also so subsequently make somecardboard cutouts of some doll clothes in case anyone came over and startedasking questions. Like why the fuck she was staring in a renaissance-esque paintingwith a naked man that so far until now she’d been trying to convince herself was no morethan a friend.

A friend she wanted to kill. A hot friend she wanted to kill; very attractive, as evidenced by both her experiencehaving close contact with him and her newly acquired painting. But a friend shewanted to kill nonetheless.

Jackie was starting to think she might have bad taste in men.

Before she can further second guess herself, she ends up reaching up and hanging thething on the wall – feeling as though her house was already screaming bloodymurder for her for even having allowed it to exist within the premises. Her hands wereshaking as she stepped back, pulling them to her chest – more so in an effortin order to convince herself not to tear it back down.

It looked – with no insult meant to the models but merely tothe setting and the style and nearly everything but the models – absolutely fucking horrendous.

And she wanted to die.

“Beautiful.” She squeaks, turning to him with a combination of what seemed to be both a grin and grimace; a look that only seemed to make her look constipated. “Thank you, Touya. You’re the – best. Absolute fucking best.”

Just you wait until she got her fucking revenge.

// @binarycolours​

[gegging]

A Team Like This

Summary: After Miss Pauling has a particularly bad night, and mostly because of them, the team decides to do something nice for her.

Word Count: 2,957

“Hey, hey! Miss Pauling! Miss Pau-”

“Oh, God. Not now Scout, please.” Miss Pauling sighed, hoping everything would be quiet in the base around this time. Well, honestly, what was she expecting! All she needed to see was Scout as energetic as ever to know that no one would be settled down.

“Uh, but, I was wondering if you wanted to join me an’ the pals for a couple of drinks!” He stammered slightly at first, gesturing to a room where particularly a lot of noise was coming from.

“No.” She answered bluntly, trying to pry off her heels and shutting the front door. If there was ever a time for Scout to be… well, Scout, this wasn’t it.

“Awe, why not? You work too hard, y’know! All ya need to do is unwind a little, it’ll be fun!” He persisted, still in her face, and still pushing her buttons. One of these days…

“For the last time, all I want to do is get some sleE-” Her voice raised in surprise, when she was cut off by Scout who, she really trusted would’ve listened to her this time, grabbed her hand and started dragging her off to the room of loud cheering and laughing.

“Sorry, you can’t be a loner this time, I jus’ won’t allow it!” Scout declared, not easing the grip on her hand. If Miss Pauling didn’t know any better she’d say he was drunk. That was sarcasm. Of course he was. She rolled her eyes in response to this. 

She was soon greeted with a combination of slightly drunk to super drunk mercenaries. Demo and Heavy were arm wrestling, though it looked like Heavy wasn’t even trying just to let Demo feel victorious in his state, even though it would most likely be forgotten in the morning. Sniper seemed to be refereeing the contest, if refereeing meant quietly focusing on it as if it was the most triumphant thing ever.

“Good God, never thought I’d see the day.” He muttered.

In another corner of the bottle littered room, Medic and Pyro seemed to be having an interesting conversation, with Medic nodding and responding to the muffled sounds that were in fact Pyro. Archimedes was also somewhat included in the conversation by Medic.

Engie was nowhere to be found, and Miss Pauling didn’t blame him. She’d do anything to be alone right now, preferably downing some wine while in bed.

And, finally, Spy, usually not one to celebrate with the “nincompoops”, sat in the corner in his own chair, smoking and enjoying what Miss Pauling could only assume was some fancy liquor. Someone who was probably the only sane one in the room.

To a point.

“See, doesn’t this look like a buncha’ fun already?” Scout smiled, as Miss Pauling dug her bare heels into the ground as an attempt to stop him. “I already told you, Scout! No!” She exasperated, using hand gestures.

Scout was about to argue again, before Soldier beat him to it. Someone Miss Pauling failed to already notice in the room. And, he was… naked.

She stiffened as Doe gave her a more than strong pat on the back, guffawing. “Miss Pauling, ma’am, thank God you got here when you could! We men are dangerously low on beer, and it would be an honor if you could go into town, and buy some more.” He kept a hand on her shoulder, as if he was giving her the opportunity to do the a truly heroic thing.

Her face seemed to form a sour, tight-lipped expression in response.

“Hey, now, I was jus’ talkin’ to her! You always think you can always try to barge into the conversation, an’-”

It soon diluted into a heated argument between both Soldier and Scout, and right in Pauling’s ears no less. Her patience could only wear down so thin.

Right when she thought the arguing mercs would be the lowest point of her night, aside from what had already happened earlier in her evening, the so called “arm-wrestling” contest managed to catch up with her.

“No way!” Heavy yelled, “I lost that match for sure, again. You just too strong!” He lied, trying not to smirk. But, Demo was having none of it.

“H-how could I?! You’re the Heavy Weapon’s Guy, for Christ sake! You.. you’re known as Heavy! You’re Russian! How could I win against a Heavy Weapon’s Guy from Russia!” He argued in-between sloppy sips of beer. 

“Why don’t we let Miss Pauling be judge of next match!” He gestured toward the woman, naive to her already pained expression. “She will tell you, that you are winner!”

Sniper rubbed his chin, “It’s true, I just can’t call it for myself.” He pondered.

The three started adding to the already loud voices of Scout and Soldier, coaxing her into helping them out and still arguing about the matter at the same time.

Her expression seemed to sour even more, and it would’ve been apparent if anyone was actually paying attention instead of babbling like children.

Archimedes flying over to see what the fuss was about, and promptly landing on Miss Pauling’s hair, while a frantic medic chased after the bird in an attempt to get him back, all while adding to the fuss, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut the f*#% up!” She shrieked, balling her fists up and shutting her eyes.

Everyone immediately stopped whatever they were doing, and whatever sound they were making; save for Pyro, who wasn’t paying attention.  Even spy, still sitting away from the group, stopped mid-smoke.

Her face was red and hair disheveled to the point of her looking like a madwoman. Taking a deep breath, she managed to sound calm, except for having a shaky tone of anger on some words, “I have had a very bad night. I am not getting you more beer, or judging your stupid contest, or “drinking” with you.” She looked at Scout on that last part. “I am tired, and going to bed.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room and to her own. Usually, she didn’t find herself staying at her room at the base, but she was far too exhausted. If she had to drive another second she would go insane.

The room she left behind was silent and frightened, to say the least.

“Well, that was awkward.” Medic broke the silence.

“Jeez, was it somethin’ I said?” Scout asked, and everyone else started murmuring silently, wondering what the Hell just happened. No one had ever seen Miss Pauling that angry, not until now. A few men in the room would’ve admitted feeling slightly threatened.

“It was something you all said, you imbeciles.” Spy spoke up from his chair, “Especially you Scout, you brought her into the mess, after all.”

“Wha? Me? I was trying to give an opportunity to let loose! I thought she would have fun!”

“It seemed obvious enough, she didn’t.” He took a long drag of the cigarette, before snuffing it out, and standing up.

“You all don’t appreciate what Miss Pauling does for us. Out there every day, risking her life for our sakes, covering up our mistakes. And, what thanks do we give her? None. Nothing other than the ramblings and favors that come from you all. Des morceaux incompatibles de merde.” The last part was muttered, despite no one else understanding French. Well, except maybe that last word. 

“How do we fix it?” Heavy wondered, rubbing his chin and feeling twinges of guilt, about what everyone else must’ve been feeling around the time. He hadn't really sensed that the small woman was distressed, otherwise he would’ve been more sensible. A sensible drunk.

“The answers pretty obvious there, Heavy! We let her clean the whole base tomorrow, I know she’s been yearning for tha-” Soldier was promptly smacked by Medic before he could finish his assumption. “... I mean, let’s get her some flowers!” He grinned.

“Not bad,” Spy rubbed his chin, “I just hope you have the same definition of flowers as we do…” He added, rather sarcastically. It wasn’t easy to trust Doe’s vocabulary.

“I have an idea myself.” Medic announced, getting ready to speak with a smug look on his face. “We get her-”

“Good lord, no you are not going to give her various organs as gifts.” Spy stopped him before he could go any further, “If you were a woman in distress would you find a bloody liver comforting?”

Medic raised a finger,

“Don’t answer that.”

He took a second and crossed his arms, a disappointed look on his face, “Never mind.”

“Oh, oh! I know! Pick on me, pick on me!” Scout raised his hand, waiting for the balaclava clad man to call on him. It was too bad this wasn’t elementary school, though some similarities remained.

Spy sighed, “Yes?”

“Tomorrow, we oughta make her a breakfast in bed! I used to do that for my own ma when she seemed to have bad days! Always worked.” He smirked.

“Scout, that is-” Spy was almost going to automatically dismiss any ridiculous thought the boy would have, but quickly realized otherwise, “... not a bad idea. I am… surprised.”

“Ha, a better idea than any of these bozos have had.” Scout crossed his arms, relishing in his turn to be smug.

“It’s a start is what it is.” Spy added, lighting another cigarette.

Miss Pauling awoke with a sixth sense of already knowing she had dark circles under her eyes, and most likely looked like the grinch. All she could do was sigh, sitting up in the stiff bed, and getting ready to get out and go back to work. She couldn’t remember off the top of her head what was in store for today, but a flashback of last night did remind her that… wow, she was a bitch.

Those were her own thoughts, but in a way, she didn’t regret it. She acted perfectly reasonable for someone who had to deal with a bunch of drunk children after trying to have a fun night out, and getting stood up by the first date she would’ve had in a long time.

“Whatever. It’s all good. I’m all good.” She breathed, ready to take a shower and get off this base as quickly as possible. Everything was starting to feel peachy again, in her eyes. All she had to do was forget.

A timid pair of knocks came at her door, “Miss Pauling?” It was Scout.

Never mind about the peachiness.

Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he would go away. It was a strategy if anything… then again, this was Scout they were talking about.

“Miss Pauling? I know you’re in there!”

She pinched her nose, “What.” She responded with a flat tone. Not even out of bed and she already had to deal with the remains of last night.

“Um, I gotta- Ow! We gotta surprise for ya’.”

We? Oh no. No. She didn’t relish in the fact of having multiple people waiting at the door. She didn’t even pay attention to the surprise aspect of that. “I have to go to work.” She replied after a moment.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you can just put that off for… awhile? But, really, you're goin’ to like this!” He assured, some other voices murmuring on the other side of the door, like they were helping him on what to say.

Miss Pauling rubbed her face, not responding for the longest time. She again went back to the notion that, maybe if she ignored him, or them, they'd just go away.

Then came the suspicious rattling sounds from the other side of the door. And, a click. An unlocking sound.

“... Miss Pauling you still there? Are you in bed an’ everything? Cuz, don't freak out, we maybe… sorta, lock picked your door…”

She widened her eyes, pulling the covers up slightly and glaring at the man boy from behind the door, “Scout-whoever, don't come in.” She warned, tone low.

“It'll be okay! You're really going to like this!” He assured once more, creaking the door open ever so slightly.

“Scout. What did I just sa-” She had leaned over and picked up one of her stray heels, preparing to chuck it at whoever dared peek around the corner of the cracked door. She was cut off by the door being kicked open and being greeted by a bombard of “SURPRISE!” From the whole gang.

She yelped and threw her heel as soon as the door was kicked open, hitting sniper in the head and knocking him down momentarily, “...Ouch.”

Her mouth was covered slightly, muttering a “sorry”, before she could take in the sight in front of her. At first her concern for sniper turned into anger for the group,

“What were you idiots thinking?! Get ou- What is this?” She stopped herself, noticing that Scout was holding a tray of various breakfast food with a nervous grin on his face. Everyone else seemed to be smiling as well, with soldier holding a bouquet of flowers, and Demo holding a bottle of wine. Pyro was also holding something, but she couldn't tell what.

Scout started speaking, “Well, er, you seemed to be having a bad night last night-” Spy, who was standing next to Scout gave him a subtle nudge, “Because of us, mainly, so we thought we’d… y’know, apologize.”

Her eyebrow was raised, but she didn't say anything yet.

“So, uh, we made ya’ a breakfast in bed!” He added, walking up to the bed and setting it down on her lap.

She was almost in a daze, wondering what the heck had happened to her team. Maybe last night she was too brash, and could only see them as good for nothing drunks, at the time. Usually it was different, and she got along with mostly everyone.

“I- “ She started, stammering, unsure what to say before Soldier stepped forward, practically shoving the bouquet of flowers in her face.

“Miss Pauling, I got you these flowers, it was my idea after all, so they're the toughest flowers I could find!”

Everyone around her shrugged in response. Doe could be unintentionally sweet when it came to certain situations, surprisingly so.

“Uh, wow, th-” She stammered even further, struggling to grasp the flowers while Soldier continued to boast about them. He, thankfully, was shoved aside by an even more excited, mumbling Pyro who had a gift of his own.

Judging from the looks of just about everyone else in the room, no one knew what it was either. Until he unveiled it of course.

“Oh, uh, a… mixtape?” Miss Pauling herself was surprised, examining the small box. It was titled, “Hot Tracks” and admittedly it concerned her what would actually be on this tape. This was Pyro after all, who was a major mystery themselves.

The initial wave of daziness and confusion soon slipped past Miss Pauling, and she couldn't help but smile. “Awe, Pyro, this is so sweet of you. Thank you.” She looked at them and gave their hand a friendly squeeze.

“Mmph!” They responded, beaming from behind the mask.

“And, Soldier, these flowers are really beautiful.” She addressed him.

He saluted her, “I’m glad I could accomplish my mission with valor.”

“And, Scout.” She started, looking at the boy still in front of her, “...Everyone, this all really… means a lot. I still have to apologize for my own behavior last night, I shouldn't have yelled and…” she coughed slightly, “Sorry.”

Spy spoke up, “Non, Miss Pauling, we, or they, all acted brash and rude. Behaviors you did not deserve to receive. This is our way of apologizing.”

Scout rolled his eyes at the older man, crossing his arms, and wishing he was the first to say that.

“Da, we all appreciate you, Miss Pauling.” Heavy spoke up, “I’m sorry.”

Demo approached the bedside, “Aye, I as well.” He tried to secretly slip her a bottle of one of his favorite whiskey brands, which she accepted with no hesitation, whispering a small “thank you”.

“If you ever are in need of some blackmarket organs or free medical care, my clinic iz always open, Miss Pauling.” Medic spoke up, looking proud of what he had to offer.  

“And, I'm always there for anything of yours that might be fixin’.” Engie added his own gift. Of course, that would've been open to her regardless.

Everyone looked at Mundy, who wasn't totally paying attention at first. A nudge from Heavy quickly brought him up to speed. “Oh, um, hm, I guess if you ever have trouble killing someone discreetly, give me a shout.” He grinned slightly, tipping his hat.

Miss Pauling was still taken back by all of this, but smiling, smiling widely. “I, wow, it… you know what? Thank you. It means a lot, and I try to make sure I don’t… lose my temper like that.”

“Please,” Spy scoffed, “Even if you do, it’s perfectly understandable with this group imbeciles. We should leave you to it.”

She smirked at that, looking down at her watch, “Right, I am… Late! Okay, thank you all so much, but… please get out so I can change.”

Everyone muttered their goodbyes, filing out of the room. Scout was still trying to talk her up, disappointed about having to leave at the time when she had to change. He was soon silenced by Spy dragging him out by the collar of his shirt.

It left her with herself and the sudden bombardments of breakfast, and gifts from her teammates. Getting out of bed at last, she took a few bites of the breakfast and started getting changed quickly, knowing the administrator wouldn’t be too happy with her now.

Still, she was pretty lucky to be apart of a team like this.

[theaccursedninth]

It was dark. 

That’s the first thing he noticed. Dark and very...very loud. 

Malekith groaned, and when his face pinched and his closed lids bunched closer to the bridge of his nose, he realized where the dark came from. A moment taken, then another, reaching up with an arm that felt like lead to rub his face. A dull pain throbbed at the side of his head, one of greater strength biting at the base. 

Where...? Ventured a wary thought. An excellent question. Black-on-blues peeped open, hissing at the orange lights on the other side. Round lights, lining the...ceiling? Walls? Like a cold bucket of ice the Dark Elf sat up (or tried; the world swerved, forcing him to slow.) Orange lights. Round lights. Round things, muses a different thought, an old thought that chills his belly. 

“Gah...”

Head ducked again, cradled between limbs that still won’t function properly. The pain behind his head blossoms anew, biting down his neck and in between his shoulders. He shut his eyes again, drawing in a sharp breath. The noise began to take form: beeping, grinding, an engine rearing to life--

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The Dark Elf froze.

“Took you long enough.”

That voice. He knew that voice. It’s your voice.  Not anymore. Which meant...

What did that mean?

“Hello, oi, gonna sit there all day or help me out?”

“STOP.” Growled the Elf, switching to his native tongue. A huff followed. Then silence. How, he thought, how is this possible? Imagination? Hallucination? Perhaps a result of this splintering pain? That must have been it. He’d hit his head too hard (how hard, that damned Asgardian threw you through half of London and your ship. You walked away from that, alright.) Maybe the hammer did it, maybe he’d gone back to war, maybe that was it, without the aether a direct blow might--

“Hey, you done yet?”

The Accursed’s head shot up. He bared his teeth, but aggression dissolved into sickly shock at the face scrutinizing him. His old face.

The face of the Doctor.

“Malekith, come on, need your help, here.” Huffed the leather-clad...Time Lord. He snapped his fingers, then walked around a column in the center of the circular room. Familiar room. You’re inside the TARDIS.

“...am I dead?” He asked, limp and hoarse and hardly fitting for Svartalfheim’s ruler. The...the Doctor paused. His broad forehead pinched. 

“You don’t remember what ‘appened.” It wasn’t a question. Nor did it answer his. Anxiety crept over the Dark Elf’s hearts. Hands fell to his lap, a trembling breath from his lips. 

“...am I dead.” He said again. The Doctor’s frown deepened. 

“No, you’re not. One of the perks of bein’ a Time Lord-Elf. Got a few tricks up the old sleeve, don’t you?” 

He’d heard the voice in passing--a whisper now and then when faced with conflict. Never had it rung with such clarity, beating the Dark Elf over his throbbing head. He preferred the whisper. 

Carefully, and swaying slightly, Malekith rose to his...knees. Knees were the best he could do. The Doctor knew it, too. He stopped fidgeting with...the console...and folded his arms. 

“Better get a hold of yourself, Malekith. Stormy seas ahead, in a matter of speaking. Gotta brace yourself for impact.”  He spoke bluntly, and yet...an air of mystery rang through the old Time Lord’s words. Stormy seas? Impact? 

The Accursed growled again, a frustrated, rumbling sound that scraped his plated chest. “What...” he tried again, clenching, unclenching the hand pressed against the TARDIS’ floor. “What...the Hel are you talking about? What happened?”

Something unmistakably sad filled the Doctor’s clear blue eyes. His smile--a cheeky, decorative piece he’d been toting thus far--tempered. He then walked around to the Elf, bending with an outstretched hand. “Up you get.” He said, gentler, but with that tainted sorrow still. “Gonna be a long road. I’ll help while I can, but my time’s comin’ to an end.”

Your time? Thought Malekith, but he’d grown tired of arguing, tired of the bleeping, crunching sounds and the awful, persistent throbbing in his bones. A heavy sigh shook his weary frame. He raised an arm, and clasped the Time Lord’s hand. 

“Up you get.” Barked an ancient voice--muffled but coarse. Like a dulled blade. The Accursed groaned again, turning away. It didn’t last long, sudden pain splicing through the darkness.

Wait. Darkness?

Malekith’s eyes flew open. Gone were the hexagonal shapes and warm hues of the TARDIS, inky blacks and icy blues closing in like a medieval chamber. More pain--sudden, explosive, and the Dark Elf hissed, curling on--trying to curl on his side. Something pulled and jerked at his sides. Restraints, he realized, after an unsuccessful attempt to lift his arms. Something hot and sticky oozed down the side of his torso; the source of the pain (some of the pain.) Alarm exploded behind his eyes, forcing his gaze up and into two pairs of murderous blue-on-black eyes. 

“What are you.” One of the Elves--the first, whose outstretched blade dripped with new blood (his blood??)--hissed. The second one, no less vicious, cast his mate a condescending scowl. 

“He is not of our kind, do not speak in our tongue.” What? Malekith’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Sudden fear, a suffocating fear he had not felt amidst his people...ever...seized his chest. He coughed, winced again and tried to find his voice. 

“I understand you perfectly.” He nearly choked. It hurt, but more than that, something...something in his voice felt...lacking. Different. Similar, but...muted. As though a millenia’s gravel had be swept away. Again, his eyes widened and reflexively he tried to grasp his throat. The impulse halted with the pull against his wrist, and the startled refute of the two soldiers above. 

“Impostor!” One--the second--accused. He too, now whipped out his blade. The point jabbed at the Accursed’s throat, but did not (yet) pierce his flesh. “Wicked cheat! You steal our lord’s face and our language along with it!” He snarled, and now the blade pressed against Malekith’s neck. His own teeth ground together, head back and against the wall behind him. Metallic, noted an afterthought, but brittle, too. (Where am I?) He tried to peer past the darkness, put name to shapes swimming in shadow, but it hurt to focus, hurt to breathe. New plan. Listen to their words. What did they say?

Steal his face. Steal their tongue. 

His stomach curled in on itself. 

“I...” he began, in Midgardian English, without thinking. A vicious cough rattled his chest. It was all the time needed. The first soldier lunged, slamming Malekith further into the wall. 

“Where is Malekith? How long have you been walking in his stead?” He was so close the Accursed could feel his quivering rage (or was it desperation?) Either way, it wasn’t--

And then, it clicked. Like a twentieth-century film in focus, a memory came floating back. Ambush, explosions. Shrapnel flying. Agony. A kindred soul in need of protection. (Who needs it, Malekith?) A golden shimmer chased away the violence. He shuddered, then looked from one elf to the other.

You regenerated.

His stomach sank.

“If you will not tell us, you will stay here until you die.” Said the first, but Malekith only half listened. He regenerated. By the sound of it, in front of his soldiers. Regenerated for the first time since...

Suddenly feeling very old and sick, he tuned back in. They continued discussing his face, weighing the quick and torturous death against a slow starvation. 

“We cannot kill him yet.” The first continued, pulling back.  “Who knows how long he’s walked in Malekith’s stead.”

“You fools!” Coughed Malekith, so lost in his own fears was he he’d forgotten to switch back to their language. If he had, he may not have noticed. 

If he had, he might have spared himself a startling horror. 

“I am--”

Whatever he was shriveled on his tongue. He choked, suddenly clammy, colder, and unrelated to the life-force dripping out one side. 

“Stormy seas ahead...better brace yourself for impact.”

He’d spoken with a northern accent.

Malekith jerked violently, straining against his shackles. Head tipped up, and sure enough, a peachy, flesh-colored hand dangled above his head. He thrashed again, trying desperately to reach around, down, feel out the unwanted change, but his damned people had listened well; even if he had been...even if he’d been at full strength, he may have trouble breaking them. Panic burst forward, rolling off his tongue in staggered shifts. “My face--” He managed, tensing, flexing, wound in his side forgotten “Let me see my face--!”

The Dark Elves regarded him a moment, as if considering. Disgust splattered one across the face. The other looked confused. Confused. Ha! He hadn’t the slightest idea!

Amidst his frightened flurry the Accursed failed to notice the significance that was the first soldier approaching again. A wild, terrified hope struck him; it crumpled, along with the rest of him, when the elf kicked him in the stomach. 

“You will stay until we decide how best to extract what we need.” The two of them then turned, marching off into the darkness. Fury, rage, whatever the word struck him hard and ruthless, diving headfirst amidst his frantic frenzy. Head shot up again, heaving, wheezing, shouting at the top of his lungs:

“Do not walk away from me show me my FACE!” 

[goandsavemyunicorn]

Soulmates (Dean x Reader)

Soulmate AU where you have a timer on your wrist counting down to when you meet your soulmate. It’s not Sirens, but I wanted to write it and pounded it out in like two hours on my phone. Dean x Reader

I glance at my wrist for the thousandth time this week, chewing on my lip. The timer is now under three days, making me more nervous than ever. I’m in the middle of getting my hair done, something my older sister, Rosie, insisted upon when I showed her my timer. 

Two days, sixteen hours, forty-two minutes and seven seconds. That’s how long I have to meet my soulmate, how long I have before my life changes forever. My hair is already four inches shorter, which isn’t much considering it was elbow length. My sister is chattering about something I don’t care about while the stylist rinses my hair, finally rid of the brightly colored streaks I put in last month. 

“Y/n. Are you paying attention?”

“Nope. What did you say, Rosie?” She sighs and stands up, holding a magazine. 

“I think you should do this dark brown color. It’s close to your natural color, but it’ll add dimension. And cover the bleach streaks.”

“Fine. I just don’t know why I can’t meet my soulmate looking like I usually look.”

“Because he would take one look at your hair and run away.” She says, sitting back down with her magazine and glass of sparkling water. The stylist starts combing in the new color, chatting with Rosie about wedding dresses and flowers. We finally finish my hair a few hours later, and Rosie pays the stylist before dragging me out to lunch with her husband, Ben, who she soulmated with three years ago. 

“So, y/n, I hear you’ve passed the three day mark. How are you feeling?” Ben asks, patting my shaky hand. 

“She’s nervous. Ooh, I can’t believe my baby sister is finally going to meet her soulmate!” Rosie gushes, clapping excitedly. Her blonde curls bounce as she claps, the light catching her shiny highlights. 

“Rosie. Chill.” I mutter, taking a big gulp of my drink. The liquor stings my throat, but I don’t care. Rosie pouts a little, leaning on Ben’s shoulder. Ben grins sheepishly, rubbing her back. 

“Anyway. Who wants food?” He waves at the waiter, who hurries over with a notepad. – Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, eight seconds. Rosie’s spent the last two days with me, cleaning my apartment obsessively, getting it and me ready for my soulmate. She even picked out a outfit for tonight, a little black dress and heeled ankle boots. My hair is in loose waves, old movie style, my makeup is done, and I even let her paint my nails for the first time in three years. 

“Y/n, sweetie, you’ve got to leave the apartment to meet the guy!” She pushes me out the door, shoving my keys and purse into my hands. I roll my eyes and walk down the hall to the elevator, wobbling a bit in my boots. Rosie is right alongside me, telling Ben she’ll see him at dinner in ten minutes. 

We part ways on the sidewalk, her climbing into a taxi and riding away as I walk the opposite direction, towards the club down the street. I cross the main road and step around a puddle, bumping into a huge, terrifying man. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He turns slowly, glaring down at me. Even in heels, he towers over me. 

“You will be.” I reach into my purse, digging for my phone to dial 911. Before I can push the final button, everything goes black as a sharp pain spreads across the side of my head. 

I open my eyes and groan, looking around a dark room. A basement, looks like. My hands are tied behind my back, my dress is torn, and I’m pretty sure my head is bleeding. The guy I bumped into earlier is standing in front of me with a gun and a wicked grin on his face. 

“Why am I here?” 

“You have half an hour to meet your soulmate. I’ve been keeping track, and there’s three possibilities in the world. The only one in this city happens to be an enemy of mine. The kind I want dead.” He chuckles and wipes a drop of blood off my forehead, then licks it off his thumb.

“That’s unsanitary.” I mumble, feeling a little dizzy.

“Shut up.” He smacks my cheek, then walks around to peer at my wrist. “Thirty-seven minutes.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Not a person, sweetheart. I’m a monster. Now shut up.” He stuffs a rag in my mouth, effectively silencing me. 

Half an hour later, there’s a loud, metallic thud somewhere upstairs, like a screen door being shot open. The big guy sneers and stands up, cocking his gun. 

“Looks like he’s early. Let’s see what happens next, shall we?” He ties a new rag around my face, blindfolding me. I hear him walk away, up some wooden stairs. I start screaming through the gag, only a small bit of noise sneaking out. There’s a scuffle upstairs, and my timer beeps softly, three times. Three minutes. More fighting noises, more beeping. Finally there’s a loud thump, and I hear feet rushing down the stairs. 

Beep. Five.

Beep. Four. 

Beep. Three. 

Beep. Two. 

Beep. One. 

The blindfold is ripped away, followed by the gag. Standing in front of me is a bow-legged man with eyes the color of Granny Smith apples, perfectly kissable lips, and a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. 

“Hey there, soulmate. I’m Dean.” 

“Y/n.” 

“That’s a pretty name, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Your head is bleeding pretty bad.” He unties me gently, lifting me into his arms. There’s a giant at the top of the stairs, holding my purse. He has too-long hair and puppy eyes, accompanied by some blood spattered on his clothes. 

“Is that her?” Dean nods, pulling me close against his chest. 

“Sammy, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Sam, my little brother.” I look Sam up and down, thoroughly confused. 

“He doesn’t look so little to me, Dean.” Both men laugh, then rush me out to a big black car and set me down in the backseat. Dean drives to a hospital, pulling up to the emergency room doors and jumping out to carry me in. 

“She needs a doctor, pronto.” He says to the girl at the desk. She starts typing rapidly, asking for my information and his. 

“What is your relationship to her?”

“Soulmate.”

“Since when, sir? Her emergency contact is a…Rosie?”

“Rosie’s my sister.” I mumble, feeling sleepy now. 

“Call her, then.” Dean says, setting me on the gurney a nurse walks up to us with. The desk girl nods and starts dialing, watching as I’m wheeled through the swinging double doors. Dean follows closely, squeezing my hand. 

“We’re gonna do an MRI, then we’ll stitch you up, okay?” The doctor says softly, shining a little light at my pupils. I nod slightly and look at Dean, who’s pale and nervous. 

“Sir, you’re welcome to wait in the hallway.” They wheel me into the MRI lab, and get me strapped in for the scan. It goes quickly, makes some strange noises, but nothing too scary. 

“Looks like it’s just a concussion. You’re gonna be fine.” The doctor pats my shoulder, then we go back into the hallway and into a different room. Dean sits beside the bed, holding my hand while the doctor starts stitching up my head. They put a tube in my arm with fluids and some kind of pain medication that makes me sleepier, then leave the room. Fifteen minutes later, Rosie comes bursting into the room. 

“Oh my god, sweetie, are you alright?!” She frowns, staring at the bandage on my head. 

“I’m peachy, Rosie. Now shhhhhh.” I mumble, squeezing Dean’s hand.

“I was so worried!” 

“Rosie. Shush. You’re too loud. Also, this is Dean. He’s my soulmate.” Dean waves at Rosie, who squeals excitedly and reaches out to shake his free hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He says, shaking her hand. She squeals again, then pulls out her phone. 

“I’m calling dad, Y/n. Go back to sleep.” She leaves the room, already chatting to our father. 

“Yeah, we may want to blow town before she calls anyone else. My family is insane and they’ve been waiting for this ‘too long’, which means they’ll all be here tomorrow morning. With balloons and flowers.” I say, matching up my fingertips with Dean’s. 

“I can handle that. As long as nobody hears that I killed a monster for you, we’re cool.” He chuckles, kissing my forehead. I smile and drift off, the morphine doing its magic. 

The next morning, I wake up to a room full of people, mostly my family. My father is standing on my left side, glaring across the bed at Dean. Rosie is beside my father, with an excited look on her face. Sam is sitting in a chair by the window, and there’s a man with blue eyes wearing a trench coat standing next to him. Two more people walk in, a girl with long red hair and a nerdy t-shirt on, and my brother, Rob.

Rob takes up a space behind my father, the same glare occupying his face. The redhead goes and stands beside Dean, grinning. She’s holding a battered copy of Lord of the Rings. 

“So, introductions, before someone glares a hole in my soulmate’s face.” I poke my dad’s arm, frowning at him.

“Everyone, this is Dean, my soulmate. Rob, my brother, Rosie, my sister, and Mitch, my father.” I point at each person as I say their names, trying to kill the tension in the room. 

“My brother, Sam. Charlie, family nerd, and Cas, my best friend.” Dean says, squeezing my hand. My father scowls and outstretches one hand, which Dean shakes. 

“Firm handshake. I hate you a little less.” My father mutters, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Dad. Be nice.” I sit up a little, tugging at my pillow. 

“I brought you flowers! And shook this kid’s hand!” He says, gesturing at a large vase full of white daisies, lilies, and carnations.

“Thanks for the flowers. Be nice to him, he is my soulmate.” I grin up at my father, whose face softens a little. Rob steps forward and squeezes my shoulder gently, grinning. 

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Rob.” 

“I was gonna bring flowers, but figured a teddy bear might be better.” He reveals a fluffy bear from behind his back, dressed in a little leather jacket. 

“He’s adorable, Rob. Thank you.” I set the bear on the bed next to me, then look up at Dean. 

“The doctor said they might release you later today. Then we can all go grab lunch, okay?” 

“Sounds great. Nothing too fancy, right?”

“Italian, or American?”

“Mmm, American.” I grin, ignoring my father’s eyeroll. 

Three hours later, I sign the release paperwork and the doctor waves me off. The eight of us head down the road to a Tex-Mex place, grouped in two cars. Rob rides with Dean in his car, forcing me and Dean’s friend Cas into my father’s truck. 

At the restaurant, Dean helps me out of the truck and leads us all inside, resting his hand on my waist. Lunch goes by pretty easily, without any death threats or serious arguments. 

Dean and I finally escape back to my apartment, and I immediately start packing. The entire building is supposed to be short-term living for those who haven’t met their soulmate yet, and when they do, they have to skedaddle. My meager belongings all fit into a single large suitcase and two cardboard file boxes, all of which Dean refuses to let me carry on my own. 

In the world we live in, soulmates spend the first year after they meet getting to know each other in a secured location, usually owned by one of the parties involved. They are occasionally visited by family and friends. Then there’s engagement, which can last from six months to a year, depending on how long planning the wedding takes. 

–

“Guess what, baby.” Dean kisses my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“What?” I grin, kissing his cheek. 

“We’re going out tonight. It’s been a year.” The two of us have been staying in this bunker, getting to know each other, since the day after we left my apartment. 

“I’ll make sure to wear something special.” He grins down at me, green eyes sparkling. 

“I’ll let you get ready, then. Charlie is dropping by later with the stuff you asked for, she said she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Sweet! I had a couple things delivered to her place for tonight.” I run off to take a shower, stopping in my room to grab my towel and my favorite soap.

“Hey girl! I brought your things!” Charlie yells through my door. 

“Come on in. I’m just doing my hair.” I yell back, turning off the hair dryer. She walks in and sets the bag on my bed, grinning.

“You’re going to look so good! I totally peeked, by the way. Love the color.” I giggle and look in he bag, pulling out a lacy, strappy bra and matching panties. They’re dark green, and somehow even sexy not on a person. 

“Thanks, Charlie!” I hug her tightly, then go back to my mirror to start curling my hair the way it was when I met Dean, minus the head wound and blood. She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her. 

At exactly five o'clock, I wander down the hall to the bunker’s library, wearing a flowy black dress with long sleeves. My heels click on the cement floor with each step, echoing around the hallway. Dean looks up as I walk in, and his jaw drops. 

“Holy… you look amazing.” 

“You look pretty good yourself.” I grin, noting the color of his tie. Dark green. The same color as my lingerie. He picks a long velvet box up off the table, grinning back at me. 

“This is for you.” He opens it, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant of tiny emeralds surrounding a diamond.

“It’s beautiful, Dean. I love it.” I kiss his cheek and lift my hair up, letting him clasp it around my neck. He leads me out to the garage, where his Impala has been deep cleaned recently, evidenced by the damp floor and shiny exterior. We drive to a fancy restaurant and stop at the valet stand, where Dean rushes around the front of the car to help me out. We’re ushered to a back table, decorated with candles. 

Dinner passes quickly, and the two of us leave in a sleepy haze. Back at the bunker, we walk in to all the lights off. Dean lights a few candles, humming softly, then turns to face me. 

“Y/n.” 

“Yes?” Dean pulls a tiny velvet box from his pocket, and drops to one knee in front of me. 

“Marry me?” I grin and lean down to kiss him. 

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips, running my fingers through his hair. A cheer erupts through the bunker, making me jump. The lights turn on, and I finally see that the room is full of our friends and family. 

“Did you plan this, Winchester?” I giggle and kiss him again as he slips the ring onto my finger. It matches the necklace he gave me earlier, to a tee. 

“Sure did.”

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

-fin-

Let me know how y'all like this! If it gets good feedback I’ll write more @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

[lonely-kitten-named-bambi-backup]

At the start, you were sweetly, naturally attracted to me

————————————————————————-

Trigger warnings: Incubus Taehyung (so sexual powers and to clarify, whilst y/n is clearly affected by meeting him at the beginning, he’s not using his powers until after she has consented to it, non verbally in the club, possibly verbally later on), voice fetishisation, public sex, pet names, Pet/Master dynamic, degradation, cum play, thigh riding, overstimulation, bondage, sensory play in the form of ice play, clit spanking, implied aftercare, cock warming.

I picture Tae, in this fic, looking like how he did for the Korean BST video. I know Incubus Tae is obviously veering into fantasy territory but I do hope you like it.

Playlist for writing this fic: Often by The Weeknd, Mirotic by TVXQ (my original hoe song), Playboy by Jonghyun (at the Agit) {he wrote the song, although Exo’s version is equally worthy hoe-writing material}, Stigma by V and House of Cards by the BTS vocal line (I know these last two songs are very sad but the way they are sung and arranged sounds so sexy) and House of Cards/Playboy MASHUP by Ryuseralover (my ultimate hoe song) (seriously check them out for the most crackiest, most eargasm-y and best kpop mashups of your life).

Bambi x ————————————————————————

You were quite frankly bored. No one had excited you. You could very well excite yourself, your left hand and your Hitachi Wand could attest to that, but any recent conquests were dull.

You could very well find the boy “to take home to mum and dad”, your people skills and your endless helpful nature helping you to land the best boyfriend material the market had to offer. However they were all too… vanilla. Their definition of kinky being fucking you doggy style (and whilst you were a fan of doggy style, it didn’t satisfy all your sexual needs).

Surprise would be too weak of a word for your partners’ reactions to you just mentioning the word ‘overstimulation’. God forbid that those that you thought would be understanding ever hear you say the word ‘bondage’, they’d be absolutely flabbergasted.

You never understood why it warranted such an overreaction. Yes, you weren’t a Jessica Rabbit (although you did have the tits, thank you mama), you didn’t see why only the femme fatales of the world could be the only ones to have their sexuality recognised and legitimatised, at least by the men you encountered. In your eyes, it was simple: you could be a civically engaged, friendly and conscientious person and a hypersexual being at the same time. Or as said most eloquently put by Ludacris “we want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed”. You just wanted someone for once to take your sexual desires seriously, to see you for the ‘freak’ you were.

So that’s how you ended up in a suffocatingly tight, crimson red bodycon dress, stupidly high stiletto heels (no more jumper dresses and combat boots for you, for at least tonight) and a mug beat for the gods, or at least hopefully beat enough to get you a good dicking down. You would dance, act coy, be brazen yet somehow slightly aloof, doing anything to emulate the bombshells and the vixens who seemed to score the most sensual of men. Your unmet carnal desires demanded it.

Two hours in and you had yet to find any potential suitors, your gut instinct and pure frustration refusing to let you to settle for any mediocre lover. Putting up an act for so long had worn on your patience to the point that all pretences were gone. Little did you know your knight in a skin tight Gucci suit was ready to come and rescue you from Sexual Frustration Land, population: you.

He had been observing you all night, taking note of your try-hard behaviour. He couldn’t fault you, you were really putting in an Olympic effort to score some kinky action tonight. Before any of your antics, he had noticed you, or at least your aura. You seemed like someone he could have a lot of fun with, a lot of sinful fun with. Now he just needed to catch your eye.

You stood up, ready to admit defeat and head home and then you saw him. His eyes caught yours first, the cerulean blue seeming almost unnatural, but suiting an ethereal beauty like him perfectly. Your eyes darted down to him licking his peachy lips, only to rise to see one of his perfectly maintained brows lift up in amusingly accusational way. You had been caught. His even more amused smirk serving as proof of that. Whether you knew it yet or not, from this point on you were screwed, and very soon quite literally.

You’ve fallen for him, he noted, as you turned away. You were seemingly trying to play coy again, whether out of embarrassment or the slickness between your thighs, his heightened senses could already smell, or both. He couldn’t quite tell yet, but he would be damned if he let you go. Why of course, he saw you.

You didn’t know how you felt about this uncomfortably arousing feeling, whether you found it pleasant or even a healthy thing that you were already wet by just looking at a man. But it wasn’t just any man, it was him, or at least that’s what your sexual spidy senses were telling you. And so, you decided to make sure to keep locking your gaze with his from across the room, only looking away to tease him, to test him, to tempt him.

Although, you soon began to get bored of the pretence again, not because it wasn’t working but because you’d rather just cut to the chase.

Before you could make any move, he raised his eyebrow, as if asking for permission. You nodded, presuming he would come over, and then soon felt your body flood with overwhelming pleasure. Your first thought was that you must not get out much if you had already cum, just from some simple eye fucking alone. He then smirked and raised his eyebrow again, as if he knew. When you stared him down, as if challenging him, the second sudden orgasm took you less by surprise. By the third you knew he was the culprit and you were going to make sure he would deliver that pleasure again, but within a much closer proximity.

So as comfortably and calmly as you could manage, whilst wearing soaked panties, you headed towards your knight in a skin tight Gucci suit, the man who has held your gaze for most of the night.

Using your people skills, you decided to take the initiative to introduce yourself first. “I couldn’t help but notice you staring at me all night, so I thought I should come and introduce myself. I’m y/n and you are?” You were already shuddering, feeling another wave ready to burst all through your body as you wait for him to tell you his name.

He gives that same amused smirk from before, and you feel the tension within your stomach tighten, reaching breaking point as you hear his sinful voice for the first time. He steadies your body with one arm around your waist and through the haze of your orgasmic pleasure, the only thing you could make out was his name, Taehyung.

You somehow manage to hold in any sounds as you ride out the waves of pleasure, letting them slowly dissipate from your body. Taehyung, half amused and half impressed, brought your hand to his lips, kissing your hand, a playful smirk painting his face as he pulled away. You had slowly come to realise that Taehyung, this mischievous man, was related to the phantom orgasms you were having, so you smirked and lent in to whisper, hot breath fanning his ear and neck. “This may be very forward of me, but Taehyung, would you like to head back to my place? It’s just that you’ve been eye fucking me all night.”

He was shocked and highly aroused by your bold language (and not just because of his incubus lineage but because no one had been this forward with him from the get go). You were just perfect. He leant forward, to murmur in your ear, his deep voice making you even wetter, if that was humanly possible, “I’ll fuck you right here, if you’re game”.

You led your blonde beauty to the dance floor, the slight hiking up of the hem of your dress serving as an invitation. An invitation he was going to take.

Forever a tease, he began to dance with you, his back to your front, the only indication of his devious intentions being the phantom touch you felt against your glistening lips, spreading your juices. It was an appetiser for the main course.

With all your focus on the phantom hands, you had failed to realise what Taehyung was doing, his cock already freed from the fly of his slacks and the back of the dress hiked up enough for him to enter you. He let you feel him slide your panties to the side, one last non-verbal ask for consent and when you leant back into his touch, he gave you what you wanted.

Whilst his suit was tailored, practically a second skin, you had wondered how it mangaed to hide all he was packing. By God was he packing. He wasn’t uncomfortably big but his size was commendable, definitely bigger than average. You were grateful that you were so wet, needing all the lubrication you could get. And despite all that, all you could feel from the moment your skin made contact with his, the moment your eyes meet across the room, was the most divine of pleasures, of the most sinful kind.

His entrance was just like that, a slow burn and then a raging inferno all at once, all pleasurable but all consuming at the same time. You’d never felt this hot and bothered in your life and it was only the beginning. ‘Oh Lord have mercy’, you thought. ‘Oh if only you knew just how ironic that thought would be’, Taehyung’s thoughts responded in his mind, a smirk playing on his lips. He continued, this time aloud, by your ear, in his deep-ass voice that was practically dripping with sex, ‘I’m not the Lord and I won’t have mercy, but I’m a incubus and I’ll make you feel so good Baby.“

Half surprised and half not, you whisper yelled your response, “I didn’t say that aloud. How did you know how to reply?”

He let out a melodic chuckle before responding in his husky voice, “Sex demons have a lot of powers, as you’ve already… hmm let’s say… experienced. I try not to use them, but sometimes it’s just happens. I don’t like to read minds, its invasive, but yours has been siren, calling me the whole night. I couldn’t help myself even if I tried. Now I know it’s a bit to take in but do you still want me to make you feel good?” When you nodded, he smirked. (He wouldn’t tell you this now but he was also relieved, glad that such an enthralling beauty hadn’t rejected him and so he’d be at your service tonight).

As Taehyung got into a rhythm, you wondered how you both looked like to all the other patrons. Could they even tell that you two were fucking? Their bodies were pressed together, so close, surrounding you both on all sides. Their combined body heat would usually be stifling but Taehyung had already set you alight with his actions. The loud music and drunken haze of your fellow club goers helped to prevent the discovery of your sin.

As a add-on to your earlier note, you soon came to realise that not only was Taehyung hung but he clearly knew how to use it. Whilst there was clearly more to Taehyung than met the eye, he was otherworldly, as you just discovered, you were now too far gone in the throes of passion to care. You took what he gave you, and then some, and what he gave you was a lot. The thrusting wasn’t as harsh as you bet it could be, he could be, but it was deep, so very deep, and assured and all you needed. (Whilst Taehyung had no shame and didn’t care if you two got caught, he didn’t want you both to be kicked out before you had both climaxed at least once.)

You then grinded back against Taehyung, partly to disguise his thrusts, to make it look like you were both dancing, and partly because you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. Yet, to you, the thrill of fucking in public was so incredibly hot, even with the threat of getting caught… especially with the threat of getting caught.

As you discovered from the moment Taehyung entered you, what was even hotter than his voice was his touch. His length was girthy enough to stretch you out exactly the way you’d like. It meant that your velvet walls could feel every throbbing vein in it’s entirety. It was also hotter in a more literal sense, every touch of his skin against yours licking your skin with a flame, leaving a warm tingle in its aftermath and only adding to the fire in your loins.

His length, girth and his deep thrusts not only allowed him to constantly rub against your g-spot, but for him to start touching your cervix. You couldn’t be happier, the obscene knowledge of him being so deep, whilst this fact was unbeknownst to the crowd on the dance floor, practically made you drip.

If you thought of the instant orgasms were torture, this was a slow and painful death. Everything was too much and not enough, the complete manifestation of lust. Or put in better terms, Taehyung was the compete manifestation of lust.

He chuckled lowly, the vibrations going through his body to yours. His delectable voice whispering by your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps across you skin, “Hmm, you’re such a dirty slut, y/n. Letting me fuck you in a crowd, where anyone could see. It’s making you so wet Baby that you’re dripping all over my cock.“ He paused before he continued, “Hmm, can I call you Kitten, y/n? You’re just such good Kitten material.”

Usually you would tease your paramour, not giving in immediately, you had an interesting relationship with control at the best of times. An ordinary man would have earn such a honour to have you as his Kitten. But Taehyung was no ordinary man, he wasn’t a man full stop. He had you from the get go and for once, for at least tonight, you’d be happy to relinquish some control. “I’d like that Taehyung. Pet names are so fucking hot. They make me weak at the knees. Although I should warn you that I don’t give that honour to the many, so don’t disappoint your Kitten.”

His hands were encasing yours, places on your hips, fingers intertwined. He gave yours a squeeze, a silent sign of his gratitude and commitment to pleasure you like only an incubus could. You smiled at this, commitment acknowledged; your response being to grind harder against him.

Taehyung smirked and thrusted even harder, another important display of the unspoken body language between you two. The booming music of the club allowing him to speak using an indoor voice without getting caught, he finally gave you a verbal repsonse. “Hmm, well Kitten, I bet you could cum from just my cock. But the slut you are, my slut, you’ll always be wanting more. Won’t you Kitten?” And with that you felt your clit being rubbed, Taehyung’s hands still firmly on your hips, his naughty phantom hands coming out to play.

God you were done for. You were so damn close, the pleasure kept on building and building and you were anticipating the crescendo.

Aware of the effect that his voice had on you, Taehyung murmured against your ear, “Cum for me Kitten… Cum all over my cock.“

And that’s all it took, your moans drowned out by the thumping music. You melted into Taehyung’s hold; your legs turnt to jelly from the tsunami of pleasurable waves that came your way. Your clenching walls dragging Taehyung down with you after a couple more deep thrusts.

Once you were sure on your feet again, Taehyung pulled out, his seed surprisingly not dripping down your thighs. Once he had made sure you were both decent he spoke by your ear, in a hushed tone “I’d like to keep you full of my cum until I fuck you again later tonight. Now, I want you to give me a show, so let’s go Kitten.”

Taehyung took your hand, helping you through the crowd of unsuspecting dancers, to lead you to a VIP room. Three of the walls were made up partly by mahogany partition screens, allowing interesting streams of light through the cracks, illuminating a sinful man in a sinful way. It providing a risk of getting caught, just like your previous actions on the dance floor.

Taehyung sat down on an emerald-green deeply buttoned velvet sofa, his legs spread wide, his dark glint in his eyes. “I want you to ride me Kitten,” patting his thigh, his heated gaze never leaving yours.

As you came closer, he tutted. “Take your panties off, leave your dress on Kitten.” So you turned around and bent over, giving Taehyung an eye full, as you peeled off the soaked black lace panties. You then folded them into his jacket pocket, to serve as a reminder of your rendezvous.

Appeased by your actions, Taehyung pulled you down to straddle his left thigh, ready for you to give him a show.

Mind already clouded by lust from all that has happened earlier, you moved your hips with no inhibitions, grinding down hard on to the firm muscle of Taehyung’s thigh. Your unabashed riding turning Taehyung on no end, his pupils blown.

Your juices had already started to drip down onto Taehyung’s black slacks, making them even darker if that was even possible.

The material of his trousers helped to add to the delicious friction against your clit. So you continued to grind down with total abandon, working yourself up to your fifth orgasm of the night.

Taehyung couldn’t help but drink in the obscene sight of you, grinding down on his thigh, a lascivious smirk painting his face. A wink joining it as he flexed his thigh. His actions ripping a moan out of your throat, making you nearly topple over due to the extra stimulation.

Taehyung kept flexing his thigh, helping to add that extra bit of friction that you needed to build up to that sexual nirvana. How close you were was obvious this time, it being painted on your face, showing Taehyung how much he was affecting you. You were giving him the show he wanted.

By the time that the waves of your orgasm came, flooding your system with endorphins, you had practically soaked Taehyung’s trousers, them sticking to him better than any tailor could dream to achieve. His own seed still inside you, giving you that feeling of fullness. You suspected that Taehyung had something to do with that, but you didn’t want to get hung up on the details, as in this case the devil was inside you, beside you and he was too hot to handle.

You were brought back to reality by the sound of Taehyung growling by your ear, his grip on your hips practically bruising, yet oh so pleasurable. “I loved that little show you just gave me Kitten. You’re so dirty but we’re about to get practically filthy. I’m starving and it’s time for dessert.”

Ever the gentleman, he helped you to your feet, helping to smooth down your dress before he transported you back to his so-called ‘humble abode’.

“I wanted to go somewhere with a little more privacy, because I have plans Kitten… indecent plans… sinful plans. Are you down, Kitten?” You nodded, no words needed.

Taehyung was rubbing off on you in more ways than one, your own version of a lascivious smirk painting your face as you noted that he transported you to his bedroom.

“This may be very forward of me, but y/n, would you like to head back to my bed? It’s just that you’ve been cumming for me all night.“

Clearly you had rubbed off on Taehyung too, in more ways than one. The parallels not being lost on you for a second, neither was his intentions. There was only one way to respond.

“I’ll fuck you right here if you’re game”

That infamous smirk came back, the only warning before Taehyung’s lips crashes with yours, his sense of restraint gone out of the window. You had driven him crazy all night and now he was going to do the same to you.

In an moment of sincerity, Taehyung pulled away from the kiss and held you close, as he asked you to pick a safe word, your choice amusing him no end. The word you chose, ‘Lord’.

As the moment had come and gone, Taehyung proceeded to kiss you again, his naughty hands slowly peeled off your dress, leaving an pleasant warmth in their wake. When he pulled back, his smirk got even wider.

“No bra, Kitten? Hmm, you really are perfect Kitten material, prepared for your Master. Well your Master is prepared for you too, Kitten.” With that Taehyung threw you onto the bed and kissed up your arms, another silent ask for consent before tying your wrists to the bed posts.

Taehyung’s plump lips came down, ready to trace down your beautifully bare body. You shivered in anticipation and again when his lips left behind a confusing mixture of hellish heat and a chilling cold in the wake of their path. A little glimmer inbetween his lips giving away the secret to interesting blend of temperature and sensation. An ice cube.

By the third you were practically screaming for more, desperate for more stimulation, desperate to have Taehyung inside you once more. So desperate that you were not below begging. “Master please give me your cock. Please Master fuck me, I’m already so wet for you. Your cum is inside me, imagine how hot and wet a fuck your Kitten would be now.”

By now, Taehyung’s smirk was etched onto his, it a permanent fixture to your obscene actions. His next obscene action causing you to scream out his name, the riding crop being hit across your clit serving as enough to get you to cum again.

Taehyung soothed the pleasurable sting with his lips, kissing his precious Kitten’s clit. Whilst it soothed, Taehyung’s actions also inflamed, his heated touch diving you into the realm of overstimulation.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, it started to become pleasurable again and the desire for Taehyung’s cock grew (much like his cock did).

“Master, please your Kitten wants, no needs, your throbbing cock. Master, please your Kitten wants to be fucked by you and your throbbing cock. Please fuck me Master.”

Taehyung felt merciful.

His clothes were gone in a flash, giving you little time to wait for Taehyung’s entrance. His cum from your previous activities served as the perfect lube, it allowing him to glide that much more easily in and out of your heavenly pussy.

Taehyung couldn’t help but find the sight of his own cum on his cock a turn on, it driving him closer to the edge than he’d like to be. The only place he preferred it more was inside your cunt, which is why he kept on fucking it into you.

In all fairness though, everything you’d both done since fucking on the dance floor had driven him mad with lust and for a sex demon that’s quite a feat. He knew however that you were too far gone too and that it wouldn’t be long until you both cum again.

Taehyung deep voice commanded you for the last time tonight, “Kitten, look between your legs, looking at where I’m fucking you, how I’m fucking you. Look at how I’m fucking my cum deeper into you, my cum helping me to fuck your wet cunt. Now I want you to cum Kitten, cum from the sight of my cum-covered cock fucking you.”

This time you saw white, the outburst blinding you, robbing you of all your senses for a moment. It was only when you regained your wits that you felt warm seed painting your velvet walls again. The feeling of Taehyung’s cum inside you almost made you cum again, but even a sex-lover like you knew what your limits where.

But he proved himself, he did make you feel good, better than good. He made you feel so good that you felt legless, Taehyung deciding to magically clean you, since you were clearly in no state to leave his bed.

And so you stayed like that, limbs wrapped around each other’s bodies, Taehyung’s cock kept warm inside you, as he played with your hair. His melodic voice singing you a lullaby, sending you to sleep after a night of pure sinful bliss.