unanswered-prayers

anonymous asked:

Can you do a Wonho (sir) and JB (daddy) threesome. You wanted to have a new sexual experience so a lot of new kinks come into play. Any link you want. Please?

Exposure: 

“We are gathered here today..” You started once again groaning and biting on your bottom lip as you turned, pacing the floor once again. The soft brown carpet rubbing against your toes as you walked a few little steps to the right and then turned again to pace the same distance to the left, your breath becoming short as your stomach tied in knots.

“Y/N I swear to God if you start off any other sentence with a phrase like that I’m leaving.” Jaebum barked angrily.

“No!” You shouted looking forward at him and your other best friend Wonho pouting because you wanted this to work. You needed it to work.

“Then tell us what’s on your mind, please? You’ve been pacing back and forth for almost an hour starting off the same sentence with different setups only to stop again and Jaebum is right, it’s a bit worrying and annoying.” Wonho gently scratched the side of his head pouting up at you because he hated to make you mad or to see you seem so distressed. You clicked your tongue matching his pout as you watched them both, your arms crossing under your breast, pushing your breast up a bit and squeezing them together. You weren’t always the smartest when it came to people hitting on you but you knew in your heart they had both just looked at your breast and it made you nervous as fuck. Walking forward with slow steps you stood a few feet from them before you cleared your throat nodding.

“Hear ye, hear ye-“

“That’s it I’m leaving!” Jaebum groaned standing up he grabbed at his leather jacket from the couch turning his back on you. You balled your hands up in fist frowning as he got his things ready. You felt your stomach sink, but you knew you were a scaredy cat anyway. Looking down you decided maybe it was best if he left because you didn’t know if you had the heart to tell them what’s on your mind. “Why can’t you just fucking talk to me?!” Jaebum said angrily facing the wall. “I thought we were best friends.” He stated again walking towards the door, Wonho following behind him causing your face to get red from frustration and embarrassment.

“How do you.. Tell your guys friends you want a threesome with them without making it awkward? Especially when you practically are close enough to use the word brother but you fantasize so much about them you can’t say that word..” You mumbled softly shutting your eyes partway because you didn’t expect them to hear you over all the rustling of them putting on their shoes next to your door. But it appears they did hear you because Jaebum was staring at you with his mouth open, shutting the door slowly he took a few steps towards you.

‘What.. Did you say y/n?” He asked softly, noticing how tight and rigid your body was. Your fist balled up and your skin turning a shade deeper than a red rose. He felt a bit guilty for getting so mad at you. Seeing you shake your head side to side he smirked to himself slipping off his shoes and taking back off his leather jacket to reveal just his white T-shirt. He walked towards you his hand under your chin as he backed you up quickly against a wall causing you to gasp and look up at him. “I asked you a question. Are you going to answer.. Kitten?” He asked softly letting his thumb stroke your jaw slowly. His warm touch enough to make you tremble against the wall. His thumb played with your bottom lip until he was pushing it down a bit causing you to open your mouth. Your eyes were glued to him the entire time, feeling his body press hard against yours. And if you weren’t against the wall you probably would have fell.

“I want you.. I want you both.” You stated again chewing on your lip but he was quick to tug it down and groan at you. Pressing his forward against yours, his hands gripped at your side roughly, one of his legs sliding between yours. He wanted answers, his eyes burned with so much but the want was there and you could feel the hardening of his pants.

“Don’t fuck with me right now Y/n. I want you to tell me exactly what you want and I want you to say it right now. Or I’m leaving.” Jaebum had wanted you, he had confessed to Wonho many nights while he was drunk and sober the things he would do to you. How he would touch you and make you beg. Wonho was no different he wanted to be inside of you as well. It had been many nights that they caught you masturbating when they stayed over. The vibration of your toys was too much and it always got them curious and too hard for their own good. But you were the youngest of the two and they didn’t want to force you to do anything, they wanted it to be your decision. Now here you were unable to tell them that it was them who made your panties wet with just one look. Both of them standing there with dark gazes, hair slicked back revealing their handsome faces and you would give it all to ride them. Whimpering to snap out of your thoughts you looked off to the side towards the giant black clock that hung up on the opening of your wall before the kitchen.

“Jaebum.. I’m not kidding. For months now, I have thought about you and Wonho. Sex is fun and all but its become dull for me, and it’s been awhile since I’ve touched anyone or let them touch me. And I see you two come around with tank tops or sweats or anything tight and I get needy and I ruin my panties. I want to be treated like a slut. A dirty little kitten who wants and needs her daddies to take care of her.” You were dying on the inside but it was now or never you had to convince them because if you didn’t you knew they would shrug it off and tell you to wait. “I’m not that experienced I know. But, I brought a lot of toys.. And rope. And I want you to fuck me.. Both of you.” You looked back up at Jaebum who was speechless and almost drooling. You couldn’t read the look on his face but it didn’t take long for your unanswered prayers to be opened because Jaebum was pulling back with a smirk looking at Wonho.

“What do you say Hoseok? Is it time that we got out our own fantasies on this little kitten since we have all felt some sexual want?” He asked and your heart skipped a beat muttering a faint ‘what’ because you couldn’t believe they talked about these things together.

“I wouldn’t want anything more than to see her cute little toys and pound that pussy from behind until it’s talking to me.” Hoseok purred licking over his bottom lip as he leaned against the door his arms were crossed like yours had been earlier revealing his taught muscles.

“Then it’s settled. Princess think of a safe word.” Jaebum started.

“Saggy balls.” You replied causing both males to grimace and look at you.

“Why saggy balls?” Hoseok asked choking on his spit.

“Well.. I have thought about this a lot. And I have watched a few things so I know that saggy balls does not turn me on saying it, it just sounds gross and wet and-“Jaebum put his hand over your mouth giving you a pure look of not wanting you to continue.

“Spare us princess or it’ll take longer for us to get back hard.” He groaned nodding before smirking. “You’ve thought about this a lot and I’m proud. Let’s go, shall we? I’m ready to touch you.”

Jaebum grabbed your hand pulling you behind him and down the hallway towards you room. Your body followed behind him, and Hoseok followed behind the both of you, his eyes looking down at your ass and he couldn’t help but walk closer to you his hand reaching out to touch your ass cheeks that were peeking out from under the shorts, you gasped and looked back at him biting on your bottom lip giving him that innocent look that drove him mad and he could feel himself ready to pounce on you, so bad that a guttural growl left his lips as you all entered into your room. You let Jaebum’s hand go walking towards your closet to find the pink bag stash of toys you had, blushing softly you squirmed not wanting to come out.

“Fucking tease.” Hoseok hissed and Jaebum patted his head smirking. “That’s why as a daddy you get to punish her now don’t you? And maybe tease her back. Yah! Y/N if you take any longer I’ll come in there and drag you out myself!” Jaebum barked and it caused your skin to chill, almost running out of the closet you smiled sheepishly at them holding up the bag.

“Good girl.. Now strip for us. And make sure that you don’t go too fast.” Jaebum backed up pressing the bag on the bed waiting for you.

Nodding your hands gripped at the hems of your shirt, you put on your best pouty lips and innocent gaze that wasn’t hard to obtain after weeks of practice so that you could get what you want. But within that innocent gaze you couldn’t help but turn it a bit seductive because they knew you were a sexual minx when you wanted to be. Your hands pulled up your shirt slowly and you threw it behind you, revealing your smooth skin and wild hair that was starting to get fucked up. Your hands moved up to unclip the back of your bra and you took it off slowly letting it fall. Hands gripping at your plump breast you played with him, letting your fingers flick against your nipples setting off Hoseok. He strode towards you yanking your hands down before he got in your face looking at you.

“Who allowed you to touch yourself huh? Huh?” He asked reaching one hand around to slap your ass cheeks, gasps and moans sliding from your lips as your heart thudded against your chest and you shook your head.

“N-no one. I’m sorry daddy.” You pouted pressing your hands on his chest as he slapped your ass cheeks again causing them to sound off. He smirked nodding he moved behind you looking over at Jaebum breathing against your ear he whispered.

“Continue. And if you touch yourself, well you don’t get to cum.” He whispered licking the shell of your ear slowly.

You nodded your head letting your hands move to your shorts, unsnapping the button you undid them, your hand sliding them down, Hoseok pushed at your back making you bend over for him, he moaned seeing the black lace hug your ass, the little bow above your crack making his dick jump in the confines of his boxers. He pulled your panties harshly to pull your body back against him, grinding his hips against your ass, he elicited moans from both of your lips, his hooded eyes staring down at you as he rasped out. “Jaebum.. Come get her.” He was afraid it would end too fast if he kept touching you. Jaebum had the more restraint surprisingly as he pulled you close to his body. He got down on his knees after you stood up, spreading your legs wide he kissed along your v-line looking up at you as his hands pulled down your panties slowly and off of you. He stood up going towards the bed, he opened the pink bag again having inspected it.

“She chose well Hoseok. But I think someone helped her.” He teased you pulling out a lavender collar that had rhinestones on it. He walked up to you pulling you forward with his finger under your chin he pressed his lips against yours, moaning against your lips he gave you a full-on kiss. His hands worked to wrap the collar around your neck, fastening the strap at the back of your head. Jaebum licked across your bottom lip as the kiss continued to get heated, but he pulled back to look at you nodding. “I think, we will definitely be getting you more of these.” He promised as he moved back only to grab at a leash that you picked out, it was black sleek and simple. He pushed it through the clear loop pulling you to him, he kissed you more walking until he was backing up against the bed. He pushed you down gently on it smiling crookedly at you he tilted his head. “Against the headboard kitten.” You followed suit moving to lay with your back against the headboard and you loved seeing that they were pleased by the things you were doing.

Jaebum moved to grab the rope, going to stand with his feet by the bed, he moved to push you on your stomach tying your arms around your back by your elbows and down making sure it was sturdy before he lifted you to rest against the headboard again groaning at the sheer arousal seeping through his bones. He moved to grab at some more beige rope, tying them around your parted legs, he kept your thigs spread wide with the bottom of your thighs pressing against your calf muscles. He looked down at you, his finger inching forward and he was playing like he was about to touch your pussy only to pull away with a sly smirk on his lips. “Not yet.” He moved to lay on the bed, on his stomach, his hands caressing under your ass cheeks gently. Licking his lips, he watched your whole clench and unclench, your needy state coming out quickly but he loved it. Leaning down he licked against your ass hole slowly. Around the rim, tasting you for the first time ever. His wet tongue pressing against you lewdly until he felt he had teased enough, that was Hoseok’s job. Jaebum pushed his thick tongue into you slowly stretching you out, his eyes basking in the sight before him, your mouth hanging open and flustered state as you watched him tongue fuck your ass. You were so tight and he could only imagine what it would be like to fuck you with his dick. How you would grip on him, maybe moan a bit too louder. A shudder raked through his body and he continued to let his tongue wiggle in and out of you slowly dipping deep until he felt he had coated you with his tongue enough. He pulled back reaching in the back to grab at a clear butt plug that had the ends shaped like a heart with a blue gem in the middle of it. Licking on it slowly he watched you as his tongue lathered up the toy in spit, he pulled it from his plump lips only to push it inside of your tight ring of muscle, his lips finding yours once again to distract from the pain he knew you would. He pushed until the plug was settled inside of you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. He let his tongue flick and play with yours until he was sucking on your tongue rolling it around his and pulling it into his mouth. Your little whimpers for him made Hoseok stare in awe, of course he was slightly jealous and he wanted attention but he wouldn’t be greedy because well he enjoyed a good show.

Soon Jaebum was pulling back, staring down at you he moved off the bed smiling and tilting his head to the side, eyes roaming over to Hoseok who had off his shirt, revealing his defined abs and hardened bulge that was resting tightly confined in his pants. “She’s all yours.” Jaebum nodded moving to sit in a chair at your desk taking off his own shirt and pants swiftly not wanting to miss a moment of this.

“It seems the little teasing kitten is all bound up. Nowhere to run and hide. Well good for you, your daddy is here and he is going to pet this pretty little pussy until you’re all worked up. But don’t worry beautiful, I’ll pet you too.” He winked climbing between your legs, leaving your breath to escape your body as you watched him. He lifted his hands, which roamed your body ever so slowly. Eyes dancing on your face, Hoseok let his hands move everywhere, against your collarbones up and down your neck until he was pressing them against the valley of your breast and down in between and against your stomach. He got worse, letting his hands move against your breast but pulling back before he got to your nipples, his hands going to caress the insides of your thighs ever so close to your pussy only so that he could drag them away with his nails against your skin. Hoseok kept up this little teasing game and it was driving you mad. Your legs tightening up though you couldn’t go anywhere, your perky taught nipples were so hard that it hurt. You were whining frustrated with want every time that he was touching your body. It got worse when he added his mouth, pressing wet lewd kisses against your skin but avoiding your breast and pussy all together. “Aww, seems the pretty kitty is mad.” He cooed feigning sorry as he looked up at you letting his tongue flick against your bruised-up collarbone.

“Not my fault daddy doesn’t know how to handle this kitty.” You spat back at him not thinking straight just wanting to piss him off. Immediately your hair was being jerked back as Hoseok sucked harshly at your neck against your spot, nipping against it occasionally turning you into a screaming mess your eyes shut as you groaned wishing you could touch him.

“Now that wasn’t very nice.” He tsked at you, letting his tongue flick against your skin before he pulled back, causing your head to throb but it only made you wetter. “And look, you’re ruining your sheets when I haven’t even touched you yet.” He shook his head chuckling rummaging through your pink bag next to him, he took out a white vibrator smirking at he turned it on letting the head spin. He moved the toy forward until it was pressing on your soaked-out clit earning a high-pitched cry of pleasure from your lips as your body arched off the bed as much as it could. The high vibrations were pressing against your clit, pulling the wetness from your pussy. He smirked keeping it in place and you couldn’t hold his eye contact you had to look away to Jaebum, and if that wasn’t bad enough you could see him with his hard dick in hand stroking himself and lightly panting, a thin film of sweat covering his body as he moved his hand and bucked his hips up. His smothering eyes told you everything that you needed to know. Your eyes drift shut, your toes curled and you weren’t good at hiding that you were close to your orgasm because Hoseok caught on and moved the toy from your pussy earning louder protest cries from you as you opened your eyes. He growled slapping your pussy harshly with his left palm, how needy and submissive you looked was just too much for him. Pulling his hand back he spread your pussy lips open with two hands watching as your pussy clenched and unclenched along with your tight asshole that had the plug sucked deep into it. “Such greedy little holes this fucking pussy has. It seems your previous affairs couldn’t get the job done. If only I could help.” Hoseok whined pressing the toy back against your clit with his fingers from his free hand keeping your lips spread apart so that you could feel it better. Your hips jerked harshly, your mouth open as you took swallows of air, gulping and watching him. “If you cum, I’m going to punish you.” Hoseok warned as if what he was doing wasn’t punishment enough. He watched you feeling himself getting harder, it was hurting at this point and he wanted nothing more to do then to fuck you senseless.

“I can’t hold it.” You whimpered to him, your hands balling up into fist as tears started to brim your eyes. Your stomach tightened, and your breathing was becoming too fast for you to get enough breaths to let out your words.

“You know what I want.” Hoseok said sternly, his face drawing closer until his lips were inching from yours eyes baring into yours causing you to shut them. “Open them, open your eyes right now and tell me what I want.” Hoseok demanded. His voice barked orders and he moved the toy up and down your clit quickly causing your pussy to drip more, the vibrations were tearing you apart. Opening your eyes up you looked up at him moaning his name, trying to say what you needed without too many moans or it wouldn’t come out right.

“Hoseok ah~ Hose-daddy. Daddy please.” You started biting on your lip. “Daddy please, I’m so fucking wet and needy. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you, to upset you I just wanted you to touch me more- I can’t hold it daddy! Please fuck please!” You shouted out and he gave you a smile the little relief you felt in your heart quickly died out when he took the toy away and shut it off licking it clean. But he didn’t finish you off he only reached a hand down after a few seconds to slap against your clit, and that one hit had you cumming and crying out against the headboard. Disbelief swam through you and how easy it was for him to touch you and turn you into a mess.

“Daddy forgives you. If you keep behaving like a good girl daddy promises he will make you cum. Now you have to get Jaebum off with your mouth, and if you do good I’ll fuck this little pretty pussy until your headboard is screaming as loud as you are. Would you like that?” Hoseok asked letting his fingers slide up and down your soaked slit before he was pushing his first two inside of you causing you to release more gasping noises and you gave a nod of your head. “Use your words kitten.” Hoseok cooed softly leaning down to flick his tongue against your slit. Your mouth dropped open, nodding your head, you felt your pussy clench around his fingers, wanting more than anything to feel him hard and pressed deep inside of you, wanting to feel the sheer force of his hips slamming against yours.

“Y-yes daddy. Yes daddy I’ll be good. I’ll do anything. “You gave your word pouting as Hoseok pulled back to lick his lips and his fingers.

“My meal is so sweet. I must remember that when I just need a taste of something.” Hoseok winked as he pulled back from your body. Jaebum made his way over to you, his hard shaft throbbing as he watched Hoseok move you to brace on your knees. Your body was a mess, and he loved every bit of how the male teased you. He had been so on edge but he wanted to fuck your mouth first, he couldn’t cum without you getting him off in some form first. He played through your soft locks with his large hands, soon he was opening your mouth up, using his dick and he pushed it past your plump lips. Watching as your eyes stare up at him, how you took him into your mouth.

“Who would’ve ever known you looked so fucking sexy with my dick in your mouth kitten. Do you want daddy’s milk?” He teased cheekily wiggling his eyebrows. Biting on his bottom lip he grabbed at your hair with one hand the other moving down to slap at your plump ass cheeks watching them bounce as your hips bucked forward. He let you control the pace at first, seeing as how you were enjoying it. And you were enjoying it, your mouth had watered as you looked at his size along. You knew that he would stretch you out, that it would burn to have his tip pressing against your throat. He was thick and his veins your tongue loved to play with, tracing up and down every inch of flesh that you could fit in your mouth. The corners of your mouth started to bead up with your saliva but you didn’t care because his moans and groans as he petted your head was enough to make you want to do anything. You had been so caught up in him, you didn’t hear the rustling of clothes as Hoseok undressed. He aligned his tip with the opening of your pussy and he pushed in slowly gasping as your pussy took him in. You choked back a moan around Jaebum’s shaft and he snapped his hips harshly against your face causing you to gag lightly and look up at him.

“I think I’ve found my new favorite sound. Kitten gagging on my dick like the fucking little slut she is. Do you like being filled up with our dicks hmm? Do you like the fact that both of your holes are filled? And guess what?” Jaebum added as he tilted his head stopping his movement so that Hoseok could bury himself to the hilt inside of your tight pussy. Your vice like grip had him shaking and ready to cum all ready but he had to hold it. “Both of your holes will have white in them.” Jaebum winked and you let out a muffled cry in response squeezing around Hoseok who couldn’t help but snap his hips forward harshly. Fucking you from behind was his greatest pleasure, you were so wet it was easy to slide in. Pussy making squelching noises as he pounded into you. His hands first gripping at your hips to lift your ass more since you couldn’t move. He was loving how it jiggled and bounced against his hips one hand moving down to slap the plump cheeks until he was sure his hand print was going to be on your ass for a while.

Your whole body was on fire, your pussy continued to release wetness for Hoseok, his ass slapping had made you a whimpering mess, and with Jaebum face fucking you all that you could do was stay in the position you were put in and take it. Your hands balled up from the pleasure, the feeling of the large dick inside of your pussy molding against your insides pulling and pushing in and out of your pussy with everything. Hoseok was making it hard for you to focus on flicking your tongue up and down the underside of Jaebum’s dick. He watched you through hooded eyes, your own lust filled eyes dropping some as the spit ran down your parted jaws. Hoseok was letting his speed get erratic but before he came he pulled back to let himself rest. Jaebum felt himself getting back towards his peek, but he didn’t want to cum without you so pulling away he let you catch some breath as both males switched positions.

Hoseok wasted no time, sliding his dick back into your mouth and you took it moaning his name as you watched him. He was almost where Jaebum was when it came to girth and length so taking him down your throat was a task as well. Your tongue swirled around the tip of his dick and you lapped eagerly at his slit until he was squirming, the overstimulation causing him to push himself deeper into your mouth. You worked your tongue on Hoseok, letting your mouth hollow as you sucked harshly against his shaft. Your nose touching the base of his dick every time he slid deeper into your mouth. Because he was so close to cumming while he was fucking your pussy, it didn’t take long for Hoseok to be spilling his warm seed into your mouth. You grimaced slightly, not liking nor hating the taste but you sucked at him, cleaning him off and swallowing around him. He pulled from your lips slowly watching as his half-erected dick slipped from your wet swollen lips.

“My turn.” Jaebum called out, picking you up by your waist Jaebum pressed his back against the headboard letting your back rest against his chest. He lifted your hips aligning you with his dick that was standing proud and tall. He used his hips to circle slightly at your opening smirking because he could feel your wetness drip onto him and that caused him to shudder and guide you down onto his dick. He stretched you out, and your head rolled back as you took him in, once you were sure he was shoved inside your loosening pussy, you squeezed around him winding your hips to ride him without letting him pull back. You could hear the heavy breathing from the male under you as he held you up, your feet on his knees with your bound legs still spread wide. Hoseok watched the scene in front of him and he crawled between the both of your parted legs to latch his lips onto your breast finally.

Jaebum started to slide you down onto his dick slowly but he made sure that you were taking all of him each time that he thrust his hips up inside of you. He kept the pace for a bit, hearing the sucking noises that Hoseok was making with your breast he didn’t want to fuck you too hard until he felt like you were ready.

“Do you like that baby? Do you like feeling daddy’s dick all buried inside of this tight needy pussy. You clench around me like you’ve needed this dick. You should’ve told me. I’m always happy to tear down walls.” Jaebum mumbled against your ear kissing it. He pulled out of you only to snap his hips up against yours earning a loud cry. Smirking he kept this up, even pausing your hips to keep you from moving (to resist the little movement you had anyway) and he fucked you harder. Your whole body was being pleasured and you could feel that your orgasm was going to come through you at any time. Your hands pressed against Jaebum’s lower stomach, your head rolled sideways so that you could watch Hoseok play and mark on your breast. Between the two boys you didn’t know who to moan for so you ended up moaning both of their names because to you it was better that way. Hoseok reached down with one hand letting his fingers dance against your wet throbbing clit. With Jaebum holding you still he could easily rub you until you were screaming out gibberish warning that you were close. “That’s right baby. Cum for us. Cum for your daddies.” Jaebum said sharply feeling his own orgasm press against you. He needed to get you off, so he focused on anything else that he could besides how good you felt, and how tight you were wrapping around him as he bounced you.

“Holy shit! Jaebum~ Ah shit Hoseok!” You were proud in your fuzzy mind that you managed to get both names past your chapped and bruised lips as you let your orgasm sweep through you. Your essence sliding out and onto Jaebum’s shaft and that did it, with only a few more quick shallow thrusts you felt him slamming up against you causing his cum to shoot up into your insides. He held you close. His hips were jerking harshly but in a few more movements he let himself slow down his thrusts to ride out your orgasms together holding you close. Hoseok smirked leaning down he licked up at your clit, pulling back to watch the cum seep from your abused pussy. Hoseok got off the bed moving to get wipes for both you and Jaebum who were nothing more than a panting pair on the bed.

Jaebum pulled out of you, and he helped Hoseok clean you up and untie you. Your body still shaking and glowing from the orgasm you lay on your stomach trying to regain your senses. Both males came to lay on either side of you, holding you close the covers were thrown over your exhausted body and you shut your eyes with a light smirk on your lips happy that your planned worked.

“I hope you continue to smile in your slip, because as soon as you wake up, round two starts and I can’t wait until kitten is screaming again.” Hoseok purred causing you to open your eyes wide. He smirked and pecked your lips before shutting his own eyes earning a chuckle from Jaebum.

“That’s what you get for keeping us waiting after we found you playing with yourself multiple times.” You were so horrified and terrified that if you said anything it led to instant punishment so instead you played it off and shut your eyes hoping that sleep would come soon and stay around.

God knows best. He knows what you need. Sometimes, I’ve prayed so hard for something and felt utterly dejected when I didn’t get what I wanted. But months or years later I see that if I had got the thing I wanted, I would have lost out on something even bigger and better, something I didn’t even know I needed. God’s plan for your life is good. He loves you too much to let you settle for the second best.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6

9

GOD BLESS AMERICA | a southern gothic mix

Songs for the fear of hellfire, for the wind that carries unanswered prayers, for the witches still out there who didn’t burn nor drown nor hang, and for the one black heart that beats the same underneath a ghost town, a dry-cracked wasteland and a deep dark bayou

BLOOD ON MY NAME the brothers bright BOTTOM OF THE RIVER delta rae RAISE HELL brandi carlile BURY THEM DEEP ghoultown NO PLACE TO HIDE jace everett BILGEWATER brown bird DRINK THE WATER justin cross AWAKE O SLEEPER the brothers bright SERPENTINE CYCLE OF MONEY danny schmidt, carrie elkin LOSE YOUR SOUL dead man’s bones FEAR OF FIREFLIES calla NIGHTMARE WORLD those poor bastards THE SHADOW OF THE UNDERTAKER sons of perdition THE LETHAL TEMPTRESS mendoza line  BANG BANG (MY BABY SHOT ME DOWN) nancy sinatra HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN lauren o’connell O DEATH jen titus WE ARE ON FIRE cocorosie

For all of the waiting: You’re going to be alright. Even on the days of “I’ve had enough” and “I can’t wait any longer,” by the grace of God, you are going to be alright. Everything won’t always work out the way you think it will, but it will always work out according to God’s Will, because it is only what He wills that will last. Find peace in knowing that.

Find peace in Him when you’re meeting new people and you’re unsure what their role in your life is going to be in the future. Find peace in Him when you’re pouring into projects and things you’re passionate about, unsure of what the outcome will look like years down the line. Find peace in Him when it seems like the clock is literally ticking on unanswered your prayers. In all of this, find peace in knowing that God is still here, protecting you and guiding you to where you need to.

None of us have been promised an easy life of getting what we want when we want it, but we have been promised Eternal Life through Jesus, which is far greater and more valuable than anything in this life that we could ever want.

Wear this truth on your heart every single day. Let it shine through your emotions, your actions, and even your facial expressions: “I may be waiting on something, but my God, Who is fully aware and fully capable of all things has remained faithful to me. He always provide me with what I need and I trust Him. I trust His timing and His Word, because He is always faithful in leading me right where I need to be.”

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” - Psalm 91:4

Let His faithfulness shield you from the worry that storms your mind. Let it be what you cling to when it seems that everyone else’s prayers are being answered and you are still waiting. God is faithful and if you know it to be true in your life, praise Him even while waiting. Waiting on the Lord doesn’t mean standing around doing nothing. This is the time to faithful to Him, as He has been faithful to you. This is the time to make the most of today because you know He holds your tomorrow.

Written by @morganhnichols for #QWCDevos

I grew up in god’s back pocket.
 
To me, he was less Almighty and more
like the grown up friend who didn’t know
how to talk to children. Our conversations were always—
stilted.
 
Barely ten, I watched the church chisel my father
into a pillar of brimstone. Or salt.
Watched him swallow scripture and
spit up salvation.
Standing on the sidelines, or the pews,
I saw sickness butcher him into buckle
and cracked leather. Each diagnosis
pulled the east Texas outta him somethin’ fierce.
 
He got worse: pill bottles and albuterol
piled up like unanswered prayers
on the kitchen counter, returned to sender,
until I ask my mother if maybe god just—
moved away.
— 

excerpt from PREACHER’S KID, by Ashe Vernon

(from the book Wrong Side of a Fistfight)

Here’s that fic I wrote that I don’t like.  It’s untitled, but it’s inspired by the song Unanswered Prayers by Garth Brooks.


Even though the sun hasn’t quite reached halfway to its zenith, the day is already hot enough that Dean is eyeing the pond on the far side of the park with serious consideration.  The fact that it’s brown and muddy, and the surrounding land is torn up by ducks and geese and stinks of bird shit is only slightly off putting.  Which means he’s either suffering from heat stroke, because gross, or it’s time to head over to the lemonade stand for some cold liquid refreshment.

“Hey, babe?”  He calls over his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to get a lemonade.  Want one?”

“Get me one with raspberries?”

Dean smiles.  “You bet.  Back in a few.”

Before he leaves the shade under the awning, he presses a kiss to a warm cheek.  He gets a distracted smile in response, but doesn’t stick around for more.  He’s caught in the siren song coming from the stand at the other end of the Farmer’s Market that sells fresh squeezed lemonade.  His mouth is already watering at the thought.

It’s even hotter outside the shade, and he can feel the sun’s heat sinking into his shoulders and arms, making him glad he remembered sunscreen this week.  He’ll probably still end up with a slew of new freckles, though.  At least there’s a slight breeze cooling his skin where it’s bared by his shorts and tank top.  He plucks at his shirt, encouraging a little air circulation under the sweat-damp material.  

The line at the lemonade stand isn’t too long, at least.  He steps up behind the others waiting their turn, and hums under his breath, letting his mind wander over the latest notes he’d received from his editor.  It’s a little frustrating that he’s going to have to cut a scene he’d been planning for so long, but also a relief that Charlie agrees with his decision.  As usual he’d gotten caught up in writer’s block due to being stubborn about the direction of the story, but after talking it out with her, his mind is already racing ahead to the next five scenes.

He’s almost to the front of the line when a voice he hasn’t heard in years breaks him from his musings.

“Dean?”

“Lisa?”  Dean grins as he turns to greet her.  “Holy shit, hi!”

It’s as natural as breathing to accept the hug she offers him with outstretched arms.  Although there’s the slightest twinge of oddness when he realizes she’s not quite as tiny as he remembers her to be.

The hug is tight, but short and she steps back to look up at him, her dark eyes alight with happiness.  “Wow.  Dean Winchester.  I wasn’t sure sure it was you at first.  How long has it been?”

He purses his lips as he digs through old memories.  The last one he can vaguely recall is a lazy Sunday spent fishing on a summer day just like this one.  “Man… I think it was the summer after graduation?  So seventeen… eighteen years?”

Lisa rolls her eyes with a groan.  “Oh god, has it really been that long?  Now I feel old.”

He chuckles at her distress.  “Well if it makes you feel better, you look great.”

And she does.  A quick glance reveals that she’s still fit and trim.  Her hair is still glossy and thick, and her skin smooth.  Only the faint laugh lines around her eyes and the sharper edge of her cheekbones show her age at all.  When he was a kid, his eyes would have lingered on her body or her mouth, but while he still finds her beautiful, she no longer makes his heart race the way it did when he was in high school.

Her cheeks flush under the compliment.  “Well thank you.  You’re looking good too.”  She circles her fingers in the direction of his eyes.  “The glasses are cute.”

Striking a dignified pose, he reaches up and pushes them up higher on the bridge of his nose.  “I’ve been told they make me look distinguished.”

Lisa laughs, light and melodious.  “I guess that’s better than ‘nerdy’.”

He waves a dismissive hand.  “I’d take that as a compliment these days.”

She blinks at him, and he can tell she’s surprised.  But before she can respond, the last person in line ahead of him leaves with their lemonade, and the young man running the stand calls for the next customer.

“You want something?” Dean asks Lisa, hooking a thumb towards the menu hanging next to the stall.  She nods, then immediately tries to talk him out of paying, but he won’t hear it.  “It’s just a lemonade, Lis’.”  The old nickname rolls of his tongue.  “It’s not like I’m buying a fancy dinner.”

After a moment she relents, and Dean orders two large lemonades and a large raspberry lemonade.  When Lisa lifts a questioning brow at the third order, he grins.  “That one is for the ol’ ball and chain.”

Her eyebrows go up.  “You’re married?”

“Yeah, going on ten years now.”  He accepts the first drink from the kid making them, and passes it over to Lisa.  She looks so flabbergasted that he laughs.  “What?  Didn’t think anyone would want me?”

She accepts the cup, but gives him a stern look.  “It’s not that.  I’m just surprised you finally settled down.”

With a wince and a nod, he accepts her explanation.  “Fair point.”  He accepts the other two drinks, and steps away from the stand to give the next customer room to order.  “Want to meet ‘em?  We have a booth over that way-” he gestures with his own drink, “-selling honey.”

She smiles brightly.  “I’d love to.”

He tilts his head in a motion to follow him and sets off across the market, weaving through the empty spots in the crowds.  Despite the heat, he’s not in a hurry.  The ice in his lemonade chills it enough that he’s worried about brain freeze if he sucks it down too fast, and now he’s able to actually enjoy the day.  As well as the company.

“So you sell honey now?” Lisa asks in between sips of her own drink.

“Yeah, we have a bunch of hives.  Although that’s just fun money.  I pay the bills with my books.”

Lisa almost misses a step, and she looks up at him with wide eyes.  “Your books?  Are you saying you’re a writer?”

“Published and everything.”  Okay, so he may be bragging a little bit, but he is kinda famous now.  

“What do you write?”

“Horror mostly.”  He grins down at her.  “It’s cathartic to turn all the noise in my head into bloody death and destruction on the pages.”

She pales slightly.  “Really?”

“Most of my stories have a happy ending.”  Not his first few books.  It took finding his his own happy ending - and beyond - to learn how to write them for his characters.  

“Huh.  Maybe I’ll have to check them out.”

He can tell from her tone that she’s not really interested.  It’s a little bit of a bummer, but he knows the horror genre isn’t for everyone.  Especially for someone as optimistic as Lisa.  So he decides to change the subject.  “What about you?  What’s been going on in your life and what brings you back to Lawrence?”

She visibly brightens.  “I’m moving back here to be closer to my family.  Plus I’m opening a yoga studio.”

“Oh yeah?  That’s pretty awesome.”  The crowds part and he can see the honey stand not too far away.  There’s a young couple sorting through the jars, pointing out different flavors to each other as they try to decide which one they want.  Dean always suggests the blackberry.  It’s his favorite.

“I’m excited for it,” she says.  Then her voice turns shy.  “I also… have a son.”

That grabs Dean’s attention, and he turns his head so he can focus on her again.  “Wow, really?  Tell me about him.”

“His name is Ben, and he’s thirteen.”  Lisa goes on to tell him about how Ben is a little flirt with the girls, and loves classic rock.  She laughs and points out how it’s funny that her son is turning out so much like the bad boy type that she’s always been into.  “His dad’s not around,” she says with a shrug and a grin, “So apparently I’m the bad influence.”

Dean scoffs.  “Sounds to me like you’re the best influence.”

She laughs.  “Thanks, I guess.”

They’re stopped just outside the stand now, and the couple picking through the honey has made their decision and are walking away with their purchase.  Dean leads Lisa into the empty space they leave behind.  He meets curious blue eyes over the table still half full of honey jars.  Ten years, and those eyes still make his pulse race as if he’s looking at his crush instead of his spouse.  “Hey, babe, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

With a nod, Castiel stashes the money he just made in the cash box and gently closes the lid.  As if it’s a delicate piece of crystal and not a clunky metal box.  Dean’s eyes follow the movements of his long, delicate fingers before turning to Lisa to gauge her reaction to his husband.  

She looks slightly confused, her smile not quite as full as it was before, and he bites his bottom lip to suppress a grin.  It used to be hard to come out to people.  But now, he enjoys the shock factor.  It’s almost as good as hearing fans talk about how scared shitless they are when they read his books.  And Lisa hadn’t been a part of his life for several years by the time he came to terms with his bisexuality, so she had no clue about the secret he’d been keeping from the world when they were in high school.

Castiel comes around the table and stands next to Dean.  He accepts the raspberry lemonade Dean hands him with a grateful smile, and then turns his attention to Lisa.  “Hello.”

“Lisa, this is my husband Castiel.”  Dean snakes an arm around Castiel’s waist and pulls him close.  The back of his shirt is even more damp than Dean’s despite the fact that he’s stayed in the shade the whole time they’ve been at the Market.  “Cas, this is Lisa.  We were a thing way back in highschool.”

Lisa looks back and forth between them for a moment, disbelief clear in her eyes.  But it fades quickly when she realizes Dean is serious.  “Hello, Cas.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you as well,” Castiel says, all formality, because heaven forbid he shed his private schooled, silver-spoon-in-the-mouth, upbringing.  Not that Dean minds.  He thinks it’s sexy.  “Dean has talked about you, and I’m happy to put a face with the name.”

“Oh no!” Lisa laughs.  “That doesn’t sound good.”

Castiel’s smile is gentle, but his eyes shine with good humor.  “I’ve only heard good things, I promise.”

Lisa laughs again and expresses her disbelief, but Castiel is insistent.  Eventually their conversation turns to the honey sold at the stand, and Dean stands back and watches them interact while sipping his lemonade.  

It’s odd, seeing his past and his present standing side by side, talking about the pollination habits of bees.  Lisa had been his everything when they were kids.  Eighteen had seemed so grown up at the time, but looking back on it now from the comfort of his mid-thirties, he can only shake his head at how young they’d truly been.  It’s no wonder their relationship hadn’t worked out.  Despite wanting the apple pie dream of a marriage, kids, and little house with the white picket fence, Dean had the heart of a wanderer and hesitated to promise to plant roots.  Not to mention the fact that he still had a lot of growing up to do, although he hadn’t realized it at the time.  Lisa was ready to settle down, and kept turning Dean down when he asked her to hop in the car and go adventuring with him.  When they both realized that things between them weren’t going to go past a promise ring, they’d drifted apart.  

Dean had prayed every night for a long time that she’d change her mind.  But when he came back to Lawrence after a year on the road, he’d learned that she’d moved away.  With no way to find her he’d finally given up hope that they’d get back together and give life together a go.  And he’d gone back out on the road, looking for the happiness he longed for.

Eight years, thousands more miles on the Impala, and a couple published books later, Dean met Castiel.  He’d been out trolling for a one night stand, but he’d been hooked by Castiel’s dark messy hair, passionate blue eyes instead.  And he discovered a man to love under the thick layer of sexy.  One night turned into two, which turned into a week, and somehow it spread into the last ten years.  And hopefully their whole lives to come.

They had the marriage part of Dean’s childhood dreams, but instead of a house in a nice neighborhood they had a little farmhouse with a small orchard on the edge of town Dean had grown up in.  They weren’t sure yet if they wanted to expand their family past their siblings and nieces and nephews, but it wasn’t off the table yet.  In the meantime Dean had his books, Castiel had his bees, and most of all, they had each other.  Maybe it wasn’t “apple pie”, but since pecan is his favorite anyway, it worked out perfectly.

At eighteen he hadn’t known this kind of happiness could exist.

He wonders if he could have found it with Lisa.  Perhaps.  He’d definitely loved her.  But with almost two decades between their time together and now, he certainly can’t imagine what his life would have been like if he’d gotten what he’d prayed for back then.  He doesn’t even want to try.

“Well, I’d better get out of here,” Lisa says.  “It’s almost time for me to pick Ben up from baseball practice.”

Dean shakes away his thoughts, and focuses on her.  “You should bring him around some time.  I’d love to meet him.”

“I’d like that.”  And she looks like she genuinely means it.  Which is great.  Dean would love to rekindle their friendship.

Castiel and Lisa exchange goodbyes, and then Castiel leans into Dean’s side while they both watch her disappear into the crowd.  

“She seems very nice,” Castiel murmurs.

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

He feels Castiel’s eyes on the side of his face.  “Just cool?  Wasn’t she the girl you prayed to God you’d get to keep forever?”

Dean chuckles and turns to meet Castiel’s eyes.  His husband’s lips are just barely turned up at the corner, a sure tell that he’s teasing.  “I can’t believe you remember that.  We were both wasted when I told you about her.”

“You were wasted,” Castiel counters.  “My tolerance for alcohol is higher than yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t brag.”  Dean leans in and presses a kiss to Castiel’s lips.  

When they pull apart, Dean sighs.  He’s not sure it’s possible for him to ever get tired of Castiel’s kisses.

“I’m pretty thankfully actually,” Dean murmurs.  He traces shapes against Castiel’s chest through the soft fabric of his t-shirt.  His finger brushes over the little golden cross hidden under the shirt’s collar.  Castiel has rarely taken it off since Dean gave it to him on their five year anniversary.  Dean’s firmly settled into being an atheist, but Castiel still has his faith, yet it’s not something that’s ever come between them.  “For not getting an answer to that prayer.”

“Hmm… yes, I’m rather grateful to Him for that myself.”  Castiel pecks him on the lips again, and then pulls away.  His fingers curl in the hem of Dean’s shirt, and he pulls him around the table and back under the shade of their booth.  

They don’t have more than a minute to sip at their drinks together before another customer comes up to the stand.  Castiel sets his lemonade aside so that he can assist them, and Dean watches him fondly.

His relationship with God had always been tenuous, even before he decided he didn’t believe at all.  But right then and there, he sends up a prayer of thanks for all the good things in his life.  You know, just in case someone is listening.  He may not have gotten what he asked for, not exactly.  But he wouldn’t trade what he has now for anything else in the world.

[SFW] Genji comes home to Reader

The enticing scent of bacon and waffles lifted you from a peaceful slumber. With a stretch you rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. The sound of a man’s cheerful humming made you swell with glee. There was only one other person with a key to your apartment and that was, “Genji!”

“Good morning my love. I have returned with breakfast! I hope you are hungry.” Genji brandished a tray of hash browns fresh from the oven.

“Oh my God, what are you wearing?” You erupted in laughter when you noticed his attire. He had borrowed your 1950s inspired black and white polka dot apron and was strutting around the kitchen like a domesticated housewife. “You look absolutely ravishing, darling.” He perked up, genuinely thrilled by your compliment.

“You really think so? I thought it made me look flat chested…” He frowned, looking down at his lack of breasts.

“Aren’t cyborg ninjas supposed to be streamlined?”

“Right as always!” A beep from the waffle iron signaled it was time to feast. The two of you tucked into a full course meal. In between bites you chatted about this and that. Genji told you all about his latest mission, you talked about the girls at work. It was a ritual you honored for its simplicity. With him being away as often as he was, you both agreed to dedicate free time to the relationship. Another of your favored activities was simply lying in bed together.

Genji understood the limitations of his omnic body and knew it was something alien to hold. Zenyatta suggested removing what armor he could. With Dr. Zeigler’s blessing, you’d become practiced at detaching the beige chassis that covered Genji’s stomach. His torso, neck, and head were the only human parts left of his former body. Out of those, only his belly and face could safely be exposed.

This portion of him had become particularly ticklish after the augments were installed; it was the last place he had any organic sensation. Of course what good was knowing someone’s tickle spot without exploiting it every once and awhile?

You waited until he’d nuzzled into your silken hair before slipping a hand down and teasing the sensitive skin. He squeaked out a startled sound and tried to wriggle away. This never lasted long but you loved it just the same.

Once he’d settled down the two of you connected on a more physical level, making sweet, slow, passionate love until late afternoon. In your post coital bliss he talked about all the placed you two should go.

“I would give anything for you to visit the Shambali temple in Nepal. Master Zenyatta has been eager to meet you.”

“We could always host him here. I know the apartment is small but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I still need to visit Lena in London. It’s been ages since we last talked.”

“My brother asks about you as well. We’ve been together for…. How long was it? 8 months?”

“Genji!” you laughed, “It’s been 3 damn years. Our anniversary was last month!”

“Oh that’s right. I got you confused with one of the other girls…” He chuckled and kissed you reassuringly. “Hanzo wants to know if I plan on marrying you.”

“Yeah well Hanzo can worry about his own love life. He’s like, 40, and still single.” Genji snickered at your playful jab.

“Does that mean you don’t want to marry me?”

“Oh Genji. I would marry you in an instant but… Overwatch needs you. The world needs you. I’m just one girl. How could I be so selfish?” This answer did not satisfy the cyborg but he bit his tongue for now.

As the perfect day came to an end a heavy melancholy set in. Each morning was a gamble. Genji could be summoned at a moment’s notice and there was nothing you could do. So to make the most of every night Genji tucked you in and told you a bedtime story. It was a childish practice but you wouldn’t give it up for the world. This night, however, held something special in store.

“Are you ready my beloved?” You nodded and curled up into his embrace. “Very well. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. She lived alone in an ivory tower with only one valiant knight to protect her. But the knight was also sworn to protect the people of her kingdom. Sometimes he had to travel far and wide to keep her enemies at bay and the princess was very lonely. The knight was often conflicted about how best to serve the princess and the kingdom. Should he continue to fight the warlords abroad or should he stand vigilant at the tower?” You looked up at him. His eyes glistened as the story went on.

“He knew a decision had to be made but feared making the wrong choice. If he abandoned the kingdom then many would die. But if he left the princess he’d be sacrificing the love of his life. The knight prayed for guidance every day, but his prayers went unanswered. He asked the lord that trained him but still had no way of knowing what to do. So he returned to ivory tower and laid down his sword before the princess.”

“Genji… What is this?” But he continued on.

“‘Princess,’ he cried, ‘Help me, for I am lost. I have sworn to protect the kingdom and I have sworn to protect you, but I am just one man. I cannot keep walking down this path but I fear my choice will have terrible consequences. I beg of you, please guide me. Tell me what to do.’”

He closed his eyes burrowed into your shoulder. You felt the hot tears on your skin. With a shaky voice you finished the story.

“The princess wept for her valiant knight. It pained her to see him so troubled. But the princess was as wise as she was beautiful and knew the answer to all of his problems. ‘Brave warrior. You have been a loyal and faithful servant to me and to my kingdom. For this I offer you absolution. I will take away all of your burdens. I will provide you the strength to carry on. I will heal you, protect you, give you shelter from the storm. For you I will do whatever it takes to make your dreams come true. But you must go on one final quest.”

“Genji… Will you marry me?”

And without hesitation his answer was,  “Yes!”

Do It Again

This one’s for @avasmommy224‘s Birthday Challenge - Happy 30th my love!
Hope you have an AWESOME day, followed by an incredible year. May the writing gods bless you with so many ideas you pray for writers block!
Enjoy, Jenn - this one’s for you!

Prompt: “Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth”
Word Count: 2139
Warnings: Fluff, Smut - take that as your summary as well!
A/N: Thank you to @wi-deangirl77 for giving this a once over and making sure it made sense! Use the gif to inspire your imagination!

“Ow!” Jensen’s voice was rough with sleep, but he was sure as shit awake now.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, swatting me with the pillow he’d pulled from under his head. I flinched back, capturing the pillow and thumping it back down on him.
“I just wanted a piece of that fine ass!” I whispered, resting my head back to the dip in the small of his back, savoring in the warmth of his bare skin.
“No need to bite,” he growled, reaching to slap at my pantie-clad behind, running his hand up my thigh towards my knee that rested near his face, giving it a squeeze.
“And I was having such a nice dream too.” He murmured, lifting himself to rest his lips against my bare leg. I was aware from an eagle-eye view, we probably looked like a ying-yang, perfectly describing us, our differences that made us a whole.

Keep reading

Valentine’s Day Love Languages: Receiving Gifts

You stared at the small box in your hands. It contained a necklace. Not a fancy, expensive one or anything (after all, Jonathan could only do so much), but a nice one nonetheless. It was the fourth gift you had received from him in the last month and while you loved your boyfriend with all of your heart, the box felt heavy in your hands. And it wasn’t because the necklace itself was heavy.

Jonathan Byers was very inexperienced in the realm of dating. Apparently not every girl in the small town of Hawkins was hot for a lanky, shy introvert whose hands were practically glued to his camera. So when you waltzed into his life and eventually into his heart, he wasn’t sure how to take it.

Do most people like holding hands? Is something supposed to happen on movie dates? What about kissing on the first date, was that alright?

As much as these questions plagued Jonathan, he lived in fear of how much embarrassment he thought he’d be plagued by if he asked you any of these. You weren’t necessarily someone who got around, but between the two of you, two official boyfriends and one crush that went nowhere was comparatively far more experienced, even if you never went beyond a simple make-out session with either of them. You therefore found yourself less upset and more amused when you later learned that he turned to Nancy for advice. The end result?

“Well, people like to get gifts,” Nancy shrugged. “I’d say maybe start the first date off with a bouquet or something – nothing major, y’know?” She then quickly added, “It helps if it’s something from the heart, though.”

Keep reading

Elorcan Werewolf AU part 9

“even a white rose 

has a black shadow”     

Elorcan Werewolf 9

Elide Lochan was locked in a cell, a chain latched firmly onto her ankles. Her shadow would bend and stretch to a dance of melancholy and insanity, dark dreams drenching her sleep. The cold would seep into her bones, every movement emitting a crack and the occasional snap. Purple crescents shaped under her eyes, her throat a rasp of what she once was.

Elide covered her ears as screeches filled the air—the rusted food tray sliding under the opposite side of the wall through a thin slat and grating against the splintered stones. Her spine remained curled as she slowly rocked into herself, the flurry of scratches scraping against her ears.

Elide slowly leaned forward, fingers reaching for the edge of the tray. Her hand wrapped around the cup of water, stale and murky. A noise of determination escaped her cracked throat as she pulled the cup to herself, her hands wobbling.

The cup spilled.

The fluid slithered through the cracks in the floor, weaving through the ground.

Elide pressed her cheek against the floor, the droplets caressing her face and nails caked with grime. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, allowing the water streaks to trickle into her mouth.

Elide laid there, loneliness wrapping around her like a blanket, laying there on the cold stones, chained, and waiting for time to drag on.

And on and on.

Her cell opened, the jarring sound rattling her into clearer conscience, and Vernon’s face peered down. Fear whipped through her.

Not again, she silently begged. A couple more seconds.

Her prayers went unanswered.

“Ready to try again?” he smirked, and jerked the chain out.

Her body dragged along the stones, and slumped against the base of the rocky stairs. She felt every crack along the ground cutting her spine and shredding her ears. The chain clattered to the floor, and a sharp kick to her side sent her to the first step at the base of the cave.

“You know what happens if you can’t make it,” he hissed, the stench of alcohol oozing from his breath.

Elide knew.

And Vernon knew too, a belt snugly fit into his hands, his black-collared shirt already unbuttoned.

“Climb,” he ordered.

And she did.

Up and up and up.

To the unreachable light. 


Elide could not breathe.

She could not think.

She could not focus.

She could only move — every whisper of movement laced with a burning sensation over her hands, knees, and feet to her very lungs.

Her eyes failed her long ago, the tiny slivers of sunlight a shrapnel scraping into her irises. Even with her lids closed, fractures of brightness invaded, too much light for a too long stay stay in the darkness — in hell.

Her hands scraped over stones, scars scratching open. So much blood had spilled and bathed over her body that she could taste the crimson, salted liquid in her tongue.

She didn’t have the energy to spit it out.

Not when her body would seize her with huge wracking spells; her throat closed up and she coughed on her own blood. Her lungs burned, her throat wheezing to a cacophony.

The climb reduced her to submit fully to her knees and hands, a wounded and shattered animal in human form with nothing but the raw emotions of enmity — except no longer did her instincts sing to live, but to relinquish in death’s calling.

Every crack in the ground furthered the descent into madness and rage. The echoing sounds in remembrance of the lash of the whip and the tearing of her clothes set her forward, almost as she’d been duly programmed to climb and climb — tortuously slowly and painfully — skimming the cracked ground with numb hands bearing running lines of red soaking her skin all the way from her ribs down to her toes.

Swabs of cotton blossomed underneath her forehead, her throat thick with saliva from panting and scratches from rasping out her mantra over and over again.

Lorcan, Lorcan, Lorcan.

Lorcan Salvaterre.

Commander of the Lycan Pack.

Her mate.

Hers.

Was.

Blood spilled out her mouth. Her hand caught inside a wedge of slab, her wrist splintering as she pitifully tried — memories slamming and wedging into every corner — tried to stop remembering, old wounds reopening.

Elide gurgled in the blood rinsing her mouth as her bone snapped.

Her cheek rested against cold stone as she heaved, greedily inhaling the musty air that no longer fuller reeked of the rotten, decaying stench of poisoned flesh.

Lorcan Salvaterre.

Her hand clawed along another stone when she heard the lash of the belt at her toes.

“I loved you.”

She saw red beneath her lids as she hauled her body up, her legs shaking and arms shuddering. There was no more youthful joy with dazzling hopes of love. Reality proved the coldness severing any warmth.

“You did not give me a chance, Elide. So I will not give you a second one.”

She collapsed along the stones, a seizure wracking her body, blood spilling out of her cracked lips. Everything swam underneath her, a buzzing sound cutting across her forehead and through her ears. Her only chances were this torture of trying and failing.

Give up, a part of her said. Give up, the walls and shadows and blood and flesh and bone whispered.

So she gave up.

Gave up to heartbreak.

Almost.

A part of her wanted to consent.

To submit to the darkness.

But that tiny, shredded sliver of hope still shone within her. A tiny thread of sanctuary

A dry laugh sounded behind her, a rasping voice that sent shivers across her skin.

She’d been still too long.

The whip lashed across her back.

Her body didn’t have enough energy to arch off the ground—instead she laid limp and broken and shattered. Salt wove through her mouth, grime caking her tastebuds, and salt oozing in thick waves out.

She could feel a hand working up her thigh, and the familiar, rotten stench overcoming her. She could not conjure up the scent of her once-mate anymore, emptiness and bitterness plaguing her.

Not again.  

“Looks like another failure,” the dark voice tsked, darkness overcoming her, shadows leaping over the dark walls collapsing over her and squeezing the last remains of breath from her lungs.

It burned.


Aelin’s door banged open again, the smell of fried noodles and apple juice filling her nostrils. She pressed down the uncomfortable feeling of distaste squirming in her stomach, and noted Manon’s similar look of uneasiness. Elide’s absence had affected them both, nourishment no longer appealing; it had been the Elide, the Pack Doctor apprentice, who had made sure they afforded time to eat rather than completely dive into Pack duties.

The palace door closed, and the scent of familiarity washed over her.

“Rowan,” Aelin greeted, turning her face away, and then paused. “Or should I say personal chef now?”

A snort. “Emrys cooked.”

“So you’re the messenger boy?”

Pine-green eyes flashed. “A boy wouldn’t have had you moaning yesterday.”

Her cheeks flushed at the whisper of memory while Manon sneered at the male, pointing a warning claw at the male. Rowan stilled at the challenge emanating from the half-Lycan.

Gods, not again.

The Prince of Lycans set the plates at the foot of Aelin’s bed with a clatter, and strode to her Beta, coldness and fury radiating from the testosterone-filled body.

“Stand down,” Aelin ordered quietly, watching Manon silently tense. The last thing they all needed was an internal conflict, especially when her own pack member and the Lycan commander were missing.

Rage flickered through those pine-green eyes from his mate’s command. Rowan let out a growl building from the base of his throat, but otherwise stalked back to her bed, breathing in the scent from her blankets and pillows. The muscles at his back and shoulders rippled.

How delicate these males were, exercising self-control daily, each strand chipping away with each passing day.

Aelin reverted back to pacing around her room, ignoring her mate’s constant fussy looks and worrying tactics—and the occasional careful and well-guarded look towards Manon.

Too many plates of untouched fruits, meats, and vegetables piled up in her room, nectar tea and water lining against her walls. The amount of food Rowan had brought her started to resemble a banquet, and if the Prince of Lycans didn’t stop soon, she wouldn’t be able to walk through her own damned temporary room without swimming through a sea of plates and bowls. Walking around this room in the castle consumed her from the normalcy of living within her own controlling borders. Not to mention the other female residents in the Lycan castle lived just a hall down, driving her senses to the edge.

Manon stabbed a nail through a blood-red apple, peeling the skin off into perfectly thin curls. Each strip, no doubt, tasted bland and dry, a reflection of the past couple months turned into emptiness and dread, living in a proliferation of well-kept fear.

“How could anyone obtain Yellowleg’s poison?” Aelin stared out the window where she could only imagine the nightmare Elide was living in daylight. The rays no longer held warmth she could soak in like a security blanket, but rather held a mockery of what she could not protect even in broad daylight. Her skin felt cold, but one look from her mate had a different type of heat racing through her.

She looked away.

Manon’s teeth latched around the peel. “I don’t understand how the poison still could have affected Lorcan after he killed Essar.”

Aelin paused, a myriad of dark scenarios crossing over her mind. She rubbed her temples, a slight draft breezing in and skimming over her skin. Abruptly slamming the window shut, tension rolled over her, not even her mate’s presence able to soothe her. “It doesn’t add up in the first place. If Essar is dead, then who controlled Lorcan while he was at the castle?”

Manon let out a low hiss, one that demanded bloodshed. A calm, killer look crested her face, and her claws slid out. Her eyes cut towards Aelin. “Now that is the real question.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “I doubt it would have been Essar. She did have give her heart to Lorcan, but she knew her boundaries. By the atrocities of her actions, the whole scenario seems absurd, almost as if she’d also been on the poison to act such.”

A pause.

Manon cocked her head, a predator accessing the situation and how to pin down the prey who’d slipped from their grasp one-too many times.

Rowan crossed his legs from Aelin’s bed, the gesture too simple—through the complications—for her eyes to handle. Growling, she chucked the plate of steamed broccoli and peppered carrots at her mate’s head.

The bastard merely flicked his hand, his magic neatly setting the trays on her bed.

Lunging forward, Aelin made way to tackle him, but Rowan hastily stood up, holding both palms up in the air.

Not in defeat, but in contemplation.

He frowned. “The day you came to the castle, pretending you were sick—” Rowan cast a hard look towards Aelin, who merely raised a brow “—you—” He turned towards Manon who had reduced the apple to the very core “—You said you saw Remelle in the palace. In the halls.”

Manon tossed the core in the air, and caught it within her hands without breaking the stare with the Prince of Lycans. “Yes.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “That’s…odd.”

It was Aelin’s turn to shoot her mate a glare. “Why’s that exactly?”

“Because she should have been in my room.”

The Alpha of the Fireheart Pack cocked a hand on her hip. “Oh?” Aelin put her mate’s words far out of her mind. When Elide was safe within her pack, then she could think about Rowan’s endeavors with other females. She told herself she didn’t care anyways, not when she had a line of unmated males, and even Alphas, desiring her—but still, the comment stung deep within her.

She’d make the Prince of Lycans think twice in who he was dealing with.

She’d started to think that the whatever deity out there was not some benevolent goddess anymore.

Rowan stalked closer towards her—daring her to interrupt and shut him out. “She’s been deigning to carry out her diplomatic meetings in my room, otherwise choosing to withhold information. That day, she was supposed to fill me in about the Morath Pack. Any details we could use to legally shut them down and use to show the Council.”

Manon let out a low hiss, ignoring Rowan’s hesitance and Aelin’s vehemence. “Morath,” The Beta gutturally gutted out so viciously Rowan’s teeth bared. “Remelle asked Elide how was Morath.”

Morath—Gods, Elide. Lorcan was right—it was that breeding place after all this time.

Vernon wasn’t trying to lie low.

“Even if Elide lived in Morath—” Rowan started, but Aelin’s face paled, realization pouring through her, a vast broken dam.

“It wasn’t Essar who poisoned Lorcan.”

Manon stiffened. “It was the one who is vying for your mate.”

Aelin’s heart stuttered. “Remelle.”

Manon clicked her teeth together, and turned towards Rowan, baring her teeth. “The first time I met Remelle, I was given the orders to not harm a hair on her head. Now?”

The Prince of Lycan’s eyes matched the half-Lycan’s dark glint full of malice and ill intent. “Those orders have reversed.”

Aelin watched Manon and Rowan stride out of the door, purpose filling each of their veins. She supposed it would be fun to have a little chat with the Lycan princess—find out her exact her role with Elide’s kidnapping and her intentions with her own mate—killing two birds with one stone.

The familiar scent of fresh air, pine, and snow filled her nostrils. Rowan pushed her door open again and stood footsteps away from her, a hard look on his face.

“I know what this may seem like, but if you trust me, believe me when I said nothing transpired.”

The Alpha of the Fireheart pack stared at the rotten core Manon had tossed on her floor. Dead and putrid—what state would she find Elide in? Even worse, she dreaded the state Lorcan would find Elide in. The retribution unleashed…

Mate or mateless, both had been tied together by the ineffable feelings of hope and life, a choice both had accepted.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Aelin said slowly, meeting her mate’s gaze. “I’m more worried about Remelle.”

She could feel the strings to her link with Manon and the waves of delight rolling through her Beta, just as a high-pitched, feminine scream pierced the air. A grin played over Aelin’s lips and she stalked to the door, sparing one last glance back.

“You coming?” she asked.

Rowan gave a slow shake of his head, and strode next to her, leaning slightly down. “When things settle down,” he said quietly. “I hope you will consider a future with me.”

The hairs at the nape of her neck prickled, and she opened her mouth, tongue tied with too many thoughts. She refused to give up her Alpha position, especially to live among royalty where she’d be nothing more than a trophy wife. “We—”

A body flew towards past their door, and crashed into the wall at the end of the hallway. Manon stalked down the hall, bloodlust written in her eyes, and crimson red dripping off her nails and onto the expensive sapphire carpets.

Remelle’s back was bent—snapped. A hand was pressed against her mouth, brimming with saliva and blood.

“A deal with Rogue Baba Yellowlegs,” Manon hissed, the rims of her dark gold eyes glazed with phantom ghosts. “Two drops of Yellowleg’s poison for the princess here for the promise of winning the queen’s crown in return to revoke Baba’s Rogue status.”

“And?” Aelin pushed.

“One drop in Essar’s breakfast tea. Under the spell, she’d been commanded to poison Lorcan’s goblet.”

Remelle’s shudder was confirmation enough.

Aelin pursed her lips. “Is Baba Yellowlegs still alive?”

Manon swung Wind Cleaver in a wide arc, and Remelle screamed, covering her eyes. “Yes! Yes she is!” When Manon’s claws slid out, the Lycan princess quickly added, “Morath,” her body trembling and convulsing.

Rowan frowned. “That’s most likely one of the quickest, successful interrogations I’ve ever seen.”

The Alpha of the Fireheart Pack smirked. “It’s why she’s my Beta.” Because the half-Lycan bred more unsatiasted ills inside of her, cultivated over the years, never receiving the closure comfort in her past. The wrath of a woman never worshipped.

Remelle screamed as the half-Lycan stalked towards her, swinging Wind Cleaver easily in one hand. The Lycan princess glanced desperately at Rowan, who merely nodded his head at Manon in expectation.

“Wait,” Aelin said, cracking her neck.

Manon looked at her impatiently, the black in her eyes dilating in anticipation.

“You get Sorscha and reinforcements to Morath as soon as possible.”

A nod from Manon, albeit unwillingly. The half-Lycan spared one last glance at the Lycan princess, who slumped against the wall in relief. And then her Beta was gone, a menace’s shadow.

To Elide, to restoration.

Aelin, Alpha of the Fireheart Pack and mate to the Prince of Lycans, stepped forward from under the doorway, and locked eyes with the Princess of Lycans.

“Remelle,” she purred. “You and I are going to have a nice, long civil chat.”

She drew Damaris from her sheath, the blade glinting against the overarching golden beams.

To the unanswered dreams and whisper of hope within them all.


Vernon rebuckled his pants, licking his lips in satisfaction. The experiments on captured wolves turned them into Ilken now guarded Morath so that not one soul would dare not survive a trip past his borders.

He’d gotten his empire, and built a kingdom out of skulls and death. He’d done the impossible without the interference of the Lycans blooded with Royalty. He’d beaten the heir to his Pack into submission.

He’d gotten it all. And so much more.

Nightmares turned into realities.

He had his secrets, his dark deeds, his gory graves, burning in his brain, a living hell, his own to hole up under lock and key.

His boots shoved the limp figure away from him, a nest of black hair lying dead against the slope of stones. Blood pooled around her, her stomach caved in, mouth open in a silent scream of terror. A perfect doll stuffed with poisoned needles and sewed with barbed words.

He had broken the Perranth spirit and heir, and carved out Morath, a devil’s realm of hell to rule absolutely.

A mirthless chuckle shuddered through him, seizing every pore. He’d brought down a Pack of light and hope, tore through every crack, and filled the gap with his own gushing red rivers of twisted wickedness.

The truth was out. That heinous acts could thrive and withhold a place in this too gray world.

He’d nudge the canvas towards the ink, and devour the white. Completely.

Vernon felt, rather than saw, a shift in the darkness—a different blackness with more volumes.

A hatchet whistled through the cave, and flew through a wide arc, nearly slicing the limp figure’s fingers, rottened and rottled.

A heavy, dark presence shattered the shapes of phantom and shadow.

Pure, undiluted rage and unfiltered feralness.

And barrenly broken.

The Alpha of the Morath Pack slowly turned around, revealing yellow-red teeth, caked with the crimson liquid of the broken body’s mortality. A nasty soul for the invading one in his land, his territory, his sanctuary.

“You missed,” he hissed in delight.

A warrior of moon’s darkness, not of the sun’s glory descended into the cave.

Deeper, deeper into hell. His hell and no one else’s. His, his, his and his own lovely-pieced heaven.

Welcome, he almost breathed, soaking in the other demon’s face.  Look at this little lush.

The darkness flared out, every vein within him throbbing as if pins and needles had stitched through him.

A hysterical laughter shot through him.

A consequence that had not foreseen.

A broken girl with a broken mate.

Put together, they healed.

He should have known. Wedged them further, despite the inevitable. His own secret darkness failed, to tell to another larger and loose dark, a spawn of wretched misery.

A wild, maniacal grin—a monster he had unknowingly forged. A living sin.

“Did I?” the twisted darkness rasped.

Vernon’s ankle collapsed, a chunk of flesh ripped and torn, blood seeping through the floor, dark ink swirling with the fading scarlet. A slice reeking of revenge felt to the depths of his marrow.

The hatchet yanked out of his ankle, and the Alpha’s knees kissed the stones. A pale hand, too twisted for true comprehension, gripped the hatchet.

The little girl who had hung onto that little thread twisted with hope.

A fading will focused on retribution, a face meaner than his own demons.

He hadn’t won.

The warrior slipped through his peripheral, the slickness of the liquids sliding over his hands too tangible.

“Tell me how you did it,” he insisted, not feebly—anything but. Foam bubbled at his lips. “Slipped through my defenses unharmed.”

His utopia. Meeting an end to greater darkness. There was no perfection, truer silencer than this. The Ilken had failed him, his fantasy had not been fulfilled, the girl had not crossed over the line. Into insanity.

The warrior stepped over his mangled ankle. A true devil in a lower hide.

More pain, but numb.

Onyx eyes peered into him, a smile promising more things than the sweet release of decaying. Hardened and unconquered. Eternal seconds of breathings for this very moment.

He repeated his words. Slurred.

Grasped at the syllables in response.

Knew the warrior opened his mouth.

Did not know the warrior had been broken and remade. Would remake the broken, shattered figure next to him, gripping the hatchet with a ferocity only the desperate could hold before fading away into dust.

The warrior knelt down next to him, and leaned close to his ear.

Opened his mouth. Said the words again—

Death cannot conquer love.

The sickened rose within him, swirling and spiraling savagely. Vernon howled at the sounds of answer, the clipped crunching cracks chipping away. Heard them over and over again, slithering down his ear and wrapping around him, a vice like grip. Choking him from the inside.

Again and again.

The Alpha of the Morath Pack heard the beating drums of madness crescending louder and louder and louder matching the beating within his own ribcage until all fell into silence and solemness.


She knew she was blinded.

Suffering in the darkness did not mean alleviation in the light.

Too bright, too sunny—she could not see the same way again.

The male warrior had stripped his shirt into thin slices and wrapped the fabric around her eyes, shielding them from the blinding sensations of radiant rays that ripped through her orbs.

But—

—she knew she was safe.

Secure, and sound.

Warm, and protected.

There was no words needed to fill the silence, not when a reunion of simple touching kissed away every troubled crack.

It was as if the past had washed away with the present.

A hand wove through her knotted hair and stroked her scalp, rubbing away the grime and dirt coating her roots.

“Elide,” he murmured, and Elide felt the vibrations rumbling through his chest.

Hers.

His.

Elide opened her eyes, the thread expanding and pouring through her. The warmth from that sliver span flashed through her, and she felt her insides match the other string’s song, the warrior whose arms she was in. Then—in that moment, she realized paradise was not a place, but a feeling.

Mates.

How could she forget that rough-hewn face and those onyx eyes—once haunted—now glimmering with that resounding hope pulsating through her.

Lorcan Salvaterre.

“I am an immortal, seen it all, met it all. But you—” The Commander of the Lycans looked at her with something akin to almost wonder in his eyes. “—You, Elide, are entirely different. You taught me ascension.” His fingers cupped her face, a gentle caress. “You taught me that life is finite and fragile.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Elide Lochan cried.

And her mate cried with her.


Elide felt the threads of connections flowing through her, more safety nets, more familiarities. More lives.

She could hear the sharp and feminine voice ringing through the air, and taste the death of Rogues on her tongue.

A blade whistled through the air, and she smiled.

Wind Cleaver.

Which only meant—the white-haired wolf stalked through the clearing, black blood and dust showering her leathers. Claws and teeth and all, she was still radiating the dominance of the powerful and unconquered, the unhinged lethalness of past and present.  

A fierce, feral grin. “If you call one werewolf, you invite the pack.”

Lycans and Fireheart Pack members filtered through the clearing, some scratched, some bleeding, some scarred. Blistered hands and broken joints.

But alive.

Seeing the Lycan carrying her in his arms, Manon gave him a warning glare, but a sharp nod. The white-haired warrior disappeared through the trees, the sound of wind and death weaving through the trees as more of the Ilken summoned, only to receive the hand of death.

This was not some pity party, but art—in death.

In the deserved.

“No,” she whispered, and her mate carried her to the edge of the thick, crooked trees where she could see glimpses of Sorscha and other medical care. Her chest rattled, and her throat cracked. But— “I want to be the one.”

She stared into those onyx eyes that carried her physically and mentally through the darkness, and willed them to understand.

“You want to be the one to bring Morath down,” her mate said, stroking her cheek.

Yes.

Her eyes fluttered close, tiredness overwhelming her. Every part of her still hurt and throbbed, but once these passings passed—

The once Alpha of the Perranth Pack would reclaim her throne.

“Elide,” Lorcan said, solemnly. “I need to know one thing before you pass out.”

Elide Lochan blurrily stared at the shape carrying her, stroking her. Loving her.

She could feel the presence of Sorscha pressing a damp cloth against her forehead, and her mate hooking her trembling fingers through his. Flesh thoroughly marked and matched.

“Do you—” A pause “—love—”

Elide Lochan screamed, a new flare of flame flashing through her. She saw red and felt raw, as if her insides were on fire. Her bones rattled and spine seemed to contract.

More pain.

To think it would end, she almost cackled.

What the hell is going on?” Lorcan roared, gripping her hands, which had started to tremble uncontrollably.

Sorscha—sweet Sorscha—swore, a rattle of a gasp emerging from the pale column of her throat. “She’s Settling.”

Elide Lochan nestled into the darkness, submitting to this other facet of pain and fracture.


Lorcan looked down at the trembling figure in his arms, twisting and turning. Her skin sweated in large rivulets, stinging even his hands.

His mate.

Suffering once again. They were dirty and dirt, but they could blossom from their own embittered seeds. Together.

He swore it. To her, to his mate, to his future.

Sorscha took a hesitant step forward. “By her conditions, I cannot guarantee that she’ll live through the process in becoming Lycan.”

He felt his darkness flare out, angry, bent on madness. Rage. “If you cannot guarantee,” he said lowly. “Then I will.”

He ignored Manon’s demands to halt and Sorscha’s protest. He sent one demand to Rowan Whitethorn, one if carried out, would pay off all of the Prince’s debts to him.

Lorcan Salvaterre whisked his mate away from the screams and tucked her thrashing body under his chin. Elide Lochan was his mate, so damned poison nor words nor ills could deprive him of.

And he would be damned if even Death could snatch that away from him.

Because death could could not conquer love. And love bled in war.  


Rowan Whitethorn tossed the Alpha of the Morath Pack into a cold cell.

Dark and damp.

Aelin and Manon and the entire Fireheart Pack had clawed at the dungeon entrance, demanding justice and retribution to end the pitiful existence of the monster of a man, Vernon.

But he had a deal and a command.

And he would make sure it would be upheld.

The Prince of the Lycans locked the door and watched the gears spur shut. Click after click after click.

No escape.

Confinement.

While Morath was in flames, the true dark core rested within the beating heart of the man who had raised an army of rogues into turned Ilken and experiment on the souls of once-purity.

It was only a matter of time before the pulsing faded away into ashes and dust.


The man clawed at the walls and howled and screamed and scratched and laughed.

Insanity and lunacy. His liar.

His bones started to rattle, blood burn, his teeth chatter, his eyes widen, his jaw unhinge, his insides boil, and his body twitch over and over into a dark and forbidden dance of nightmares and little secrets. 

A swooning flame swished through him, and the little specks flecked across his head. The chunk of missing flesh at his ankle seared and sparked. The demons within him caved him, a forbidden forgiveness. 

Shadow and phantom. Dark and dangerous.

Ill and inquiry.

Hueless and hellish.

And his Settling began. And a new reign dawned. 

HUGE post about Drautos

My speculations about Drautos based on little number of canon facts we have but still remaining mostly in headcanon space. MANY gifs.  

However you look at it, Titus Drautos is a man of ideas, or maybe better to say mental constructs. He put himself under immense pressure, being a double agent for 10+ years leading a major force for two opposing armies. Successfully leading both, I can’t stress that enough, because that’s just crazy. And for what? What possible motivations could he have had?  

There are two major ideas he seemed to be living by. Both artificially constructed and absolutely disconnected from him by the end of the movie.  

Personal grudge against king Regis and the wellbeing of his homeland.  

First, I just want to say that it’s very clear to me that neither pure power nor any other personal gain was ever his goal. And there was no loyalty or other positive feelings towards the Empire. That much is clear from his words and his actions. 

I’m going to take the majority of what he says at face value because some offhanded phrases were revealed to be meaningful later on and I think he is trying to tell the truth as much as possible not to get tangled in a web of lies as any respectable spy would do. 

Also I regard the majority of his words about someone to be actually about himself as it is a customary way to show character’s motivations in any story.    

Like here. Drautos is feeling he has no power without the magic on loan from a person he hates. That was probably the reason he started working with Niflheim in the first place, to get an alternative which he got in a form of his armor.    

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I Belong To You

Summary: Castiel is searching for a holy relic when he is drawn back to the bunker by the reader’s late night prayer.  He soothes her and, at her insistence, decides to stay the night as she sleeps.

Pairings/Characters: Castiel x Reader; Mentioned: Sam, Dean

Word Count: 848, including lyrics

Warnings: None that I can think of; the tiniest hint of angst but, really, it’s all fluff

A/N: This is my entry for @impalaimagining’s Taylor’s Concert Challenge.  My song prompt was “I Belong To You” by Muse, which is one of my favorite songs by that band!  I ended up having two ideas and this was the fluffier of the two and the one that I knew I could finish within a close proximity of the deadline once I started busting through the block (thanks for the extension but YAY! I didn’t need it!).  The other idea is a short angsty series, which I’m considering writing as well.

The song lyrics are in bold and italics and one brief flashback scene is in italics.

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