#(this would be the meeting immediately before the current thread

[goldenbeastkeeper]

@witchnordemon

Valor was late.

He hadn't even come at all the last time Lord Belos had left the manor for a full day, and today he wasted half the day lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, debating whether or not he should skip out on today, too.

It was only his promise to keep returning that got him up out of bed.

When he got there, he stared at the fabric-covered tablet for a long moment. Moving his arm felt like fighting against a current, but eventually, he managed to grasp the fabric and pull it down, revealing the Collector's disk beneath.

It was only after that that he took his mask off, and that revealed an extremely tired face, with his normally bright magenta eyes duller than the Collector had ever seen them before.

[slytherin-pen]

Diplomacy Be Damned

pairing: Kallias x Reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: some fighting, burn injury, Kallias loses his temper to defend you, Beron being Beron

a/n: dipping my toes into writing about Kallias. i need to read up on some headcannons since we have so little canon info about him. dug this one out the drafts lmao

The halls of the Winter Court glistened with ethereal beauty. Walls carved from ice, crystalline chandeliers dripping with frozen jewels that caught and refracted the faint glow of faelight. The chill in the air was familiar, comforting even, though it did little to ease the tension rising in the room.

The High Lords had gathered again to discuss the threat of Koschei. And as always, it felt like sitting in the eye of a storm.

You sat quietly beside Kallias, your mate, the bond between you a steady hum under your skin, a thread of warmth woven through the cold. His hand brushed yours subtly, an anchor amidst the political currents swirling around the grand table.

Beron was speaking.

Of course, he was.

You had the displeasure of sitting near him, Kallias and one of his sons were all that was between you. On your right sat Thesan and Tarquin with their respective councils. The Inner Circle, Helion, and an empty spot for Tamlin across from you. The large circular table made of ice was designed with the much-needed space that was necessary for these tumultuous meetings in mind. Usually, Autumn would be positioned on the same side as Night, but with Lucien Vanserra’s new position as their emissary you convinced Kallias to rearrange the seating chart so the poor male did not have to sit near the male who caused him so much suffering, and instead next to his true father. You were reconsidering that moment of compassion now.

Arrogant and venomous, Beron’s words were dripping with condescension as he spoke of sacrifices and violence with the casual cruelty only the Autumn Court’s High Lord could master. You saw the way Kallias’ jaw tightened, the faint narrowing of his eyes, the only signs of his control slipping.

Across the room, Feyre Archeron sat beside High Lord Rhysand, her posture rigid, and nails tapping rhymically against the table as Beron’s smug remarks continued. You could see it in her eyes, she was losing her patience with him, as was everyone else in this room.

“If Koschei wants the Archeron witch so badly, I say let him have her,” Beron drawled with a flourish of his hands. “There’s no sense in going to war over one useless female.”

A burst of flames shot across the room, wild and uncontrolled. It was meant for Beron. You knew that. Everyone knew that.

But Feyre had still not yet mastered her aim, and you were sitting in its path.

The searing heat hit you before you could react, fire licking across your shoulder, burning through the layers of fabric, biting into flesh. A sharp, involuntary cry escaped you as pain erupted and you fell backward out of your chair.

The room exploded into chaos.

Kallias’ reaction was immediate, his power blowing an icy wind that extinguished the remaining flames. The chill of his power was a different kind of sting, but an improvement nonetheless. He helped you rise, his hands on your waist as he sat you down in his chair. You gazed up at him to tell him it was alright, to just adjourn the meeting for a moment until you saw his face.

Fury.

Uncontained, unrelenting fury.

His eyes blazed with a rage colder than the harshest winter as he turned on Rhysand and Feyre, his power crackling in the air like a blizzard ready to consume.

“What were you thinking?” His voice was a snarl, low and dangerous, ice creeping across the marble floor like the tide rising at a beach.

Rhysand rose, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but there was a readiness in his stance. “It was an accident—”

“An accident?” Kallias roared, his magic lashing out, frost racing across the walls, shards of ice falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the table. “She burned my mate!”

You tried to stand, the pain sharp and unyielding, but Kallias was already at your side again, lowering you back down to the seat. His breath came fast, uneven, his fury battling with fear. The smell of your charred flesh permeated the room, even Lucien across the table wrinkled his nose at the all too familiar scent.

Beron, ever the viper, chuckled darkly from his seat. “Seems the High Lady still can’t control her temper. At least it wasn't my wife this time.”

That was all it took.

Kallias and Rhysand lunged.

Power collided—ice, darkness, and fire. Winter’s wrath and Night’s might against the burn of Autumn. Beron blocked Kallias’ strike with a shield of fire, but the sheer force sent shockwaves through the hall, cracks spiderwebbing across the floor. Rhysand’s darkness engulfed Beron, snuffing out his flames.

“Enough!” Helion shouted, stepping between them, his golden power radiating as he formed a shield around everyone else.

But Kallias wasn’t listening. He could only think to protect, avenge, defend. His magic surged again, colder than death itself, as he bared his teeth.

“Kallias,” you managed to rasp, your voice raw from both the pain and the rising fear of what he might do.

He froze.

Then he was in front of you, dropping to his knees, cradling your face in his hands. His fury didn’t vanish—it was there, sizzling beneath the surface—but his focus shifted entirely to you.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion. “I��ve got you.”

With a burst of his power, he winnowed you both away, the freezing air swallowing the sound of shouts and curses from the meeting room.

He had taken you to your shared chambers, the familiar scent of fir trees and eucalyptus wrapped around you like a comforting cocoon.

Kallias didn’t waste a moment. He led you to the edge of the bed to sit and carefully peeled away the burnt fabric. The sight of the angry, blistered skin made his breath hitch. He strode into the washroom to retrieve healing supplies before returning to your side. His fingers hovered above the wound, trembling slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as if it were his fault. “I should’ve—”

“You couldn’t have stopped it,” you assured, wincing as he dabbed a cool cloth over the burn, the chill both soothing and sharp.

But Kallias didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw, his eyes shadowed with guilt as he worked. He was meticulous, his hands gentle, as if he feared hurting you more.

After delicately applying healing salves to the burns and wrapping them with a bandage, he sat beside you, his head in his hands.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, it just tingles now. The salves are working.”

He released a sigh of relief. Then, softly, “When I saw you fall…” his voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “I’ve faced war and impending death, but nothing has ever terrified me like that.”

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

His grip tightened, pulling you into his arms with a desperation that made your heart ache. He held you as if you might disappear, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

“I don’t ever want to feel that again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling his tension slowly ease. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

[sevsevteen]

Can I request please 🙏 reader just listened to circles or cheers of youth (or literally any of the sad depressing im gonna sob song genre that woozi loooves) and they show up at woozi’s studio an emotional mess and woozi just comforts them

i can't resist this request with MY CURRENT OBSESSION WITH WOOZI 🥹 ...sad music is literally my whole life. with happy burstday just out, woozi's solo destiny is the perfect song for this round !!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

You weren’t supposed to be here yet - technically. The agreed time to meet and listen to the new Happy Burstday album was still a good hour away. But your schedule ended early, and with the kind of week you had, you found yourself quietly slipping into Woozi's Universe Factory studio. It wasn't the first time you came unannounced anyway, Woozi always kept it open when he knew you’d be coming.

The studio was dimly lit, quiet save for the low hum of the monitors still glowing blue. The monitor was open, screen stacked with demo files and folders - and among them, you noticed one single project labelled:

“DESTINY\_FINAL\_MSTR.wav”

You knew the tracklist by now. You also knew this was Woozi’s solo.

It was the one you were most excited for. Woozi hadn’t let anyone hear it yet. Not even Seungcheol, which said a lot.

He’d just smiled, eyes crinkling in his usual secretive way, and said: “It’s personal.”

Curiosity bubbled up. Not nosy - just... admiring. You respected your precious producer immensely - not just as a leader or fellow member, but as an artist. A quiet genius, one who always listened more than he spoke, always gave before asking for anything in return.

With one final glance toward the hallway to make sure no one was coming, you reached for the headphones, slid them on, and pressed play.

Woozi wasn't here yet anyways.

And that was when the room fell away.

The track started slow. Just his voice and a few chords - raw, like a breath into dawn.

“I didn't believe in fate, because I thought it would only hurt...”

His voice wasn’t polished here. It was personal - laced with hesitation and something aching. The lyrics painted something deeper than love - it felt like fate, like loss and hope threaded into one. A letter never sent. A wish made at the end of a long day.

It wasn’t like the other tracks. It didn’t soar; it floated. Like a whispered memory, or a quiet realization - the kind you have when the world is still and your thoughts are loud.

As the chorus hit, layered vocals and strings building into a vulnerable tune, your eyes stung. A hand flew to your mouth. You didn’t know when you started crying - only that now, you couldn’t stop.

“A lot of sadness and pain must also be destiny, right? I want to believe that it is a shower that will pass quickly.”

By the last chorus, you were full-on bawling - knees pulled up to your chest on woozi's chair, sleeves damp as you tried to wipe away the overwhelming tide of tears.

That’s how Woozi found you.

.

The door clicked open softly.

He froze.

You, curled on his chair with headphones still around your neck, looked up with red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face.

His heart immediately dropped.

His voice was gentler than usual, alarmed but not panicked. “Hey- what happened? Are you hurt?”

He blinked, completely caught off guard.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, swiping a sleeve across your cheeks. “I listened to your song. I wasn’t supposed to, but I did and-”

Woozi didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he stepped in quietly and walked over.

“Come here,” he murmured, making a stop beside you. Without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head as you melted into the warmth of him.

You fell into him like second nature.

And the both of you sat there like that for a while - your trembling subsiding slowly, the quiet hum of the studio equipment grounding you.

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You whispered, voice muffled in his sweater.

“I think it means more that you did,” Woozi replied. “That’s the biggest compliment I could ever get.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered into his chest, voice shaking. “You’re beautiful. How does someone even sing like that?”

You looked up at him, eyes still glistening. “You really sang that from your heart, didn’t you?”

He gave a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “But I think…I wanted someone to hear it like this. Just like this.”

And you did.

The moment held.

Because in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the quiet comfort of being seen, of being heard - and of standing beside the person who made “destiny” feel like something possible, even in a world that rarely slowed down long enough to believe in it.

--

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ along with destiny, i listened to svt's playlist of sad songs (Pinwheel, Habit, & Hug are my babies, go and fight a wall) and had to take a pause while writing this to bawl my eyes out

[girliism]

patrick zweig x reader

-

“oh please pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“hello.”

“oh thank god. i thought you weren’t gonna answer.”

“i’ll always answer for you.”

there was a pause like there always is when either of you says anything a little too intimate.

patrick clears his throat. “but um why are you calling shouldn’t you be at your bachelorette party?”

your sigh echos through the phone. “i’m actually currently hiding out in the bathroom at a stripclub after having three different strippers half hard cocks thrust into my face.”

patrick’s loud laugh fills your ears, and you have to roll your eyes. “so what, do you need a get away driver? want me to come get you?”

you shook your head as if her could see you. “no, no. i just needed a little break from my bridesmaids.” you said the title in a mocking manner. “i thought this wedding stuff was supposed to be fun.” you say quietly.

“you could always come hang out with me.”

before you could respond there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“are you done in there we have to move on to our next location.” you gave a half assed answer back to whoever was at the door would leave.

“i have to go.”

-

the rest of the night you let your bridesmaids drag you around new york before you started to complain.

“seriously you guys i’m so so tired, and my feet hurt. i would love to stay out but i really really can’t.” before they could try and convince you you shut to door in their faces. letting out a loud sigh you threw your bags next to the door.

you got yourself ready for the night. washing away the activities of tonight before slipping into your pajamas.

it was 3 am and you couldn’t sleep. you toss and turn, you count sheep, you even try to get yourself off but couldn’t be further from in the mood. patrick’s words rang through your head. “you could always come hang out with me.”

-

three soft knocks sounded through patrick’s hotel room. he originally ignored them but three more came.

“sorry but i didn’t order room service-” he started, opening the door without look through the peek hole. instead of if being a worker it was you in a navy blue slip dress and white slippers carrying two bottles of champagne.

“still wanna hang out?”

patrick stepped aside to let you in, and as if it were your own room you immediately crawled into his bed settling down. patrick slid in next to you grabbing one of the bottles of champagne, popping it open and taking a big glup. “we should watch 27 dress. since, you know, you’re getting married tomorrow.”

“asshole.” you said unseriously, taking the bottle from him chugging back some of the alcoholic beverage.

you and patrick passed back and forth the bottle of champagne taking sips, and eating from the large basket of fries you guys had ordered. ignoring the way your fingertips would sometimes brush, neither of you moving to separate them just letting them linger for a second.

“i don’t wanna get married.” you say softly, watching as jane nicholas switches between dresses. you feel patrick’s eyes on you but you don’t turn to meet them.

“why?”

you shrug, picking at an imaginary loose thread sighing. patrick in all the years that he’s known you he has never seen you so… unsure. not even when you guys were sixteen and patrick got way to drunk at a charity event and crashed his dads car. you knew exactly what to do and who to call. but right now you just looked defeated.

“i mean, it’s not like it’s even my wedding. all just a business transaction. patrick, i didn’t even get pick my own bridesmaids. oh! and my main of honor is the daughter of some guy my dads trying to close a deal with.” you scoffed, letting out everything you’ve been feeling since the night to said yes to the proposal. “at first i was fine with it but i don’t know anymore.”

you sounded so hopeless and patrick didn’t know what else to do but trace little soothing shapes on your bare knee.

“why didn’t you ask me patrick?”

the question caught him off guard. he knew what you were talking about but it still shocked him.

when your parents had deemed you were getting to old and need to marry because in their words. “you have nothing other skills my dear, the least you can do it marry for the business.” patrick had been their first contending, he always was since the two of you met. he came from a very wealthy family and your fathers were already friends. but patrick said, no.

“i don’t know what you mean-” you cut him off with a scoff and an eye roll. “why. didn’t. you. ask me patrick?” you finally turned to look at him, and said with a small voice. “i wanted you to ask me.”

patrick sat up taking his hand off of you and running it through his hair.

“you— you deserve someone better than me.” patrick shrugged. and it’s true, you did. you deserved someone with a stable life, who’s parents weren’t just waiting for him to give up and join them in the family business. you deserved someone who didn’t live in their fucking car half the time.

“someone better being a man i hardly know.”

patrick’s mouth moved faster than his brain.

“you’ll learn to love him.”

you stare at him shocked. “you sound like my mother.”

the brunette winces but doesn’t say anything. it’s silent as you guys sit there watching the movie but not paying attention before you speak again.

“i deserved you.”

patrick scoffed, shaking his head. “you don’t believe that. you see how i live, paycheck to paycheck. driving around in my broken honda to tennis matches only to lose. you don’t fucking deserve that.”

patrick never thought he was good enough for you not even when he was in his “prime” always thought he was too dumb, too immature, too reckless for you. you who was prefect, never a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in sight.

“you deserve someone who can take care of you, who won’t drag you down. you’re use to a certain way of living and being with me at this moment in my life would bore you. you’d grow to hate me.”

you groan. “have you ever thought that maybe i don’t care about that. i have enough money to take care of myself i don’t need a babysitter.” you covered your face with your hands taking a deep breath. “this probably stupid to say before my wedding but fuck it.” you look him right in the eye.

“patrick i’d live in your smelly honda for the rest of life if it ment being with you. your not the brightest but there’s no way you missed all the years i spent absolutely pinning after you. i love you patrick i’ve loved you since the day i met you in that damn coat closet when you were hiding from your parents and i’m gonna keep loving you.” the tears in your eyes fall slowly down cheeks.

patrick took forever to respond and it had you thinking the worst. he didn’t need to say it you already knew he was gonna reject you.

you scoff a laugh. “i’m so stupid.” you whisper to yourself, moving to get out of the bed and forget this ever happened. but before you could make it fully out patrick’s hand took hold of your wrist yanking you softly in to his embrace.

your lips met patrick’s halfway in a kiss the both of you have been dreaming of for far too long. it started out soft, patrick wanted to take his time molding his lips against yours but you needed him. you snake your hands into his curly hair and pulling him closer to you, dragging his body down on top of yours.

patrick’s body fitted itself in between your legs, one of his hands coming to rest on your hip.

“push me away, tell me to stop.” he said, against the skin of your neck as he tracked kisses down your sternum, bunching your dress up and places them on your stomach. you shook your head, arching up into the touch. “no.” you sucked in a breath when his lips brushes against the waistline of your panties. “i want you. i want you. i want you. i want you.” your chanting turned to moaning when patrick’s face disappeared between your legs.

-

come morning you were gone, the only evidence of you being there was a slight dent in the empty pillow next to patrick’s, and the dull ache on his back that your nails left behind.

“shit.”

his head hurt from his mini hangover and from the knowledge that in a few short hours he’d lose you forever.

he needed to drag himself out of bed and in to the shower then head over to the reception just so see you before you said i do.

-

as much as you had wanted to stay in patrick’s bed and wake up to him you knew you couldn’t. you had a responsibility.

“you look so beautiful, my dear.”

your mother rested her hands on your bare shoulders, placing her smiling face next to yours. your cheeks nearly touching as she looked at you through the mirror. “though i do wish you picked the other dress.”

there it was.

you let out a sigh standing up for vanity. “well, this was the dress i choose can’t you just be happy with that.” your mother came close to you reaching her hand up to yank out a little fly away hair from your scalp. “the other dress was better.” you rolled your eyes when she turned her back to you checking her watch.

“it almost time. remember all you have to do is walk down the aisle and say i do. think you can do that?”

you wanted to say no, you wanted to take off this dress and get out of this stuff room. but instead you bite the inside of your cheek and gave a short nod. she walked to door, opening it before turning back to you for one last piece of advice.

“and don’t forget to smile.”

when the door shut you let out breath you didn’t even know you holding in. you paced back and fourth, the skirt of your dress flowing around you. the door to your dressing room opened causing you to groan expecting to be faced with your mother not a certain brown haired boy you left stranded this morning.

“hey.”

“hi.”

“your dress is nice.”

“thanks.”

you guys stood there staring at each other awkwardly. you didn’t know what to say, patrick was scared to say what he wanted to say.

“so you’re still gonna do this, still gonna get married.” patrick’s question broke the silence. you sighed again for the hundredth time today. “yes, patrick i am. i’ve tried and there’s only so much i can do.” it was taking everything in you to hold back your tears and patrick’s sad puppy like stare wasn’t helping.

“don’t do this.” patrick stepped closer to you grabbing your hands. “please don’t do this.” you let go of hands and threw you arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“thanks for last night, pat.”

patrick buried his face into the crook of you neck, breathing your scent in. his hands flexed against your lower back pushing you closers.

a knock at the door tore you two apart. you gave patrick one last look before leaving there. again.

-

the wedding march plays when you enter the room. everyone standing up from their seats. the two little flower girls skip ahead of you, dropping white rose petals in their wake. multiple pairs of eyes are on you, watching as you walk down the long aisle with your arm linked with your fathers. when you reach the end you hand off your flowers to your mother, place a kiss on your father’s cheek, before taking place in front of your husband to be.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

patrick kinda blacked out the first half of the ceremony. the second you walked out nothing else seemed to matter. you were practically glowing under all the lights, thought the glow didn’t quite reach your eyes. the priest next words seemed to break patrick out of his hypnosis.

“speak now or forever hold your peace” there was a pause, no one in the audience stood up prompting the priest to continue.

“wait, i object.” patrick shot up out of his seat causing everyone to turn and look at him. “patrick!” he ignored his mothers sharp call of his name, moving out of the pews to stand in the middle of the aisle.

“i object.” he this time with more confidence. “you were right last night. you don’t deserve this sham of a marriage. you don’t deserve to get married to guy you’ve known for four months and who makes you wear flats on your wedding day so you don’t appear taller.”

you stifled a laugh.

“i know my life right now is kinda shit, and i was trying to be selfless by letting you go, but fuck it. i love you, i love you so much. so, leave that loser and come with me.” patrick held his hand out.

you didn’t need to think twice before pulling off the ring on your finger and dropping in the hand of the man in front of you.

“what do you think you’re doing.” your mother stopped you half way down the stairs. you looked at her sighed. “something for myself.” you pushed past her, running a little to reach patrick. your hands found each other’s, fingers interlocking as you walked out the reception leaving behind all the confused murmuring.

-

“that would have been really embarrassing if you hadn’t come with me.” patrick joked, grabbing his keys from the valet. “let’s get out of here i’m starving.”

“patrick.”

he stopped and turn to look at you. you reaching forward, your hands grabbing onto his cheeks pulling him in for a kiss.

“i love you.”

patrick couldn’t help the blush and smile that crept onto his face. he took hold of your hands leading you to the passengers seat opening the door for you.

“your chariot my lady.”

you hopped into the passengers seat and patrick slid into the drivers, starting the car and driving away from the dramatic scene he just caused.

-

[castiwls]

invisible string .ᐟ

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt; 'And isn't it just so pretty to think. All along there was some Invisible string tying you to me?'

Requested; anon

Notes; reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Fate wasn’t something you truly believed in. The force sure, but fate? That was something children were told to help keep them optimistic or explain coincidences which were just slightly too perfect - parental intervention or not.

Things happened for a reason - but fate was not a reason.

Anakin Skywalker however seemed to be determined to make you believe that fate was real and that it was fate that the two of you ended up in the hallway and the same time at the exact moment a droid decided to trip you up and right into his arms.

Of course, you’d heard of him but you’d never met him. Your master had once described life as being led by a little golden string. Every event was linked and sometimes some people's strings intertwined together when those people were meant to meet.

Anakin seemed convinced that your strings were meant to intertwine and he was doing everything he could to make sure you knew this. First, it was the fact that you were both born on Tatooine and then it became the fact that you both were in the same youngling group (you never spoke) and finally the fact that you both just happened to have quarters in the same wing.

You continued to push that “it’s just a coincidence. It’s not fate, we’re the same age of course we’d be in the same temple group.” Every time Anakin would simply laugh before shrugging and making a comment about how. “A coincidence is fate.” He’d grin wrapping an arm over your shoulder and joining you on whatever errand you were running.

Though Anakin Skywalker was anything if not determined. And he was determined to make you see that your meeting was years in the making - every little action had led to your strings intertwining more and more until that one day in the corridor. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Can I help?” You jumped slightly as a voice broke through the silence and you whipped around to find Anakin grinning back at you, half his body hidden behind the door frame. 

“How did you even find me?” 

“I have my ways.”

“You asked half the temple didn't you?”

“...No” 

You huffed as he stepped closer to where you were currently sat hunched over a droid which you’d spent the last three hours trying to fix. “You look a bit stuck there.” Anakin gestured to the parts strewn all over the floor before crouching down to pick one up. 

“Use this. It’s easier to tighten the smaller bolts.” He pressed the tool into your hand with a small smile. You frowned blinking at him for a moment before nodding and taking the tool. “Thanks.” You did as he said and quickly found him to be right. 

The bolt tightened almost immediately and Anakin made a small noise of satisfaction as you stared down at the bolt. You’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the damn thing to tighten and he’d solved it in less than a minute.

“See. Like I said, much easier.” He squeezed your shoulder before moving to sit down properly beside you. “Here.” He reached over to gently take the tool and the droid. “Let me.” 

He worked in relative silence for a while as you watched. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of befriending me?” Your words surprised you - the thought not meant to have left your lips but Anakin simply smiled. 

“Because, I think you're an interesting person.” His shoulder bumped yours “And like I said it does seem kinda like fate that we just happened to have so much in common before we even spoke.” You huffed rolling your eyes as he laughed quietly.

“Remember that little thread that we were taught about?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yeah, that little thread is like fate-”

“Anakin-”

He simply cut you off placing the droid down. “I like you. And I don’t think it's a coincidence that we met.” You pursed your lips. He really wasn’t going to leave this alone. “It’s too perfect that we just happen to be from the same town and spent most of our childhoods in the same environment and never met. I think we were meant to meet when we did.”

You sucked in a breath watching him for a moment. You could almost hear the passion in his words almost. He really believed in this - that for whatever reason you were fated to meet.

“Let me prove it to you. Give me a month.” Anakin offered turning to face you fully. “Prove to you that the story about those strings was true.”

[pedropascallovebot]

Challenging

Luigi Mangione x reader

✧˖°.

a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened

cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here

⋆˙⟡

It had started off as a joke, really.

Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.

It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.

No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.

You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.

Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.

You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.

He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.

Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.

You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.

"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.

He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.

That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.

Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.

When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.

"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.

Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"

You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.

"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.

"Lay back for me."

He obeys.

Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.

"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.

"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.

"Hmm?"

You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.

"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.

Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.

"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"

You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.

Not yet. Not yet.

You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.

Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.

"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.

He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.

Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.

You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.

"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.

"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"

Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.

"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.

He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.

You don't think you've ever been this wet.

When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.

"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."

You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."

Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.

However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.

You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.

He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-

You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.

"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.

It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.

You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.

"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.

You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.

So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.

Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.

When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..

"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.

He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.

You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.

"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.

When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.

"There you are."

He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.

"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.

Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.

"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.

"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."

[sigh-ra]

MAY THE BEST MAN WIN ᝰ K. NANAMI

synopsis: a rejected job application to be his PA places Nanami Kento on the short end of the stick as the dejected applicant, not only began endorsing his opponent, Geto Suguru, but also melts his stoic demeanour; their discreet hookups enabled to taint Nanami's pristine reputation in the world of impactful falsehood, aka politics.

tags: nanami x reader, nsfw, fem! reader

LIAISING WITH HIS opponent's valuable, composed assistant would be pretty scandalous. This scenario would remain hypothetical so long as nobody discovered Nanami Kento, a venerable political presence competing for supervision over Tokyo’s jurisdiction, his ascendancy to improve the nation’s societal aspects appeared promising, and his intrigue with a woman employed on the opposing team, whom he detested with equal measure.  

Both he and the female he’d abruptly grown infatuated with obsessed over Japan's mishaps, formulating instantaneous solutions to endless predicaments, exhibited as a modern form of salvation for a densely populated herd destitute of direction; hence why the current election.

Despite being eulogised as the perfect candidate on numerous front-pages and receiving endless commend from other influential figures, Geto Suguru and his extremist views were nipping at Nanami’s tail, and with Geto’s perspicacious personal assistant bestowed both convenient attractiveness and ingenuous that stood out compared to other employees, specifically other male’s as the career path inclined toward that gender domineering the profession; Nanami wouldn’t be surprised if citizens elected his rival solely based on L/n Y/n being present.

He abhorred her accomplishments with evident discontent; however, each loathe was contended with an internal admiration as below that surfaced a more profound regret whenever he recalled flipping over her resume with a curt ‘next’, belittling her potential as his dismissiveness had betrayed him.

As of currently, Nanami was fervent in the notion of being severely seared by L/n Y/n’s eruption of heinous flames as every occurrence containing witty disputes between the astute representatives seethed pleasurably against his warm skin clothed with pricey threads; his opulent suits constructed from classic patterns clocked the metaphorical whips her sly remarks lashed against his tanned figure - an intimately controversial confession that he intended to remain sealed within his filthy mental vault.

Promiscuous drops of persuasion flickered at the end of each of her calculated talks, especially when she led central meetings, proposing numerous compromises he could consider during the scheduled period etched to occur at specific times, which always ran for longer due to the topics being labelled as paramount.

Nanami was not an oblivious airhead, acknowledging the taunting lilt in her tone when her audaciousness addressed him directly and fixated a spotlight on him to test his poise and agility to concoct an answer. Lower ranks either observed in awe of his intelligence/professionalism or envied him for being selected to engage with L/n, a seductive woman who was well aware of how to balance her femininity and diabolical tongue in a male-dominated field.

Her sophisticated mannerisms were partly a diversion to distract from her internal urges, which, when she’d first acted upon, immediately tossed her high prolific job of working directly under Geto Suguru, a broad man with goals to eradicate and start a new, on the line. However, knowing it required two to tango erased the anxiety of unemployment and wrecked public image as, fortunately, a blonde and lean male had just as much on the line they’d both risked to prance across.

An authoritative male who prioritised his occupation before any other relations of pleasure was prepared to dissemble his eminent reputation for some irresponsible pleasure as if he were undergoing adolescence once again, their altercations extremely perilous but an enthralling venture nevertheless.

This progression of secretive screwing was the one thing Nanami held such certainty for. The penalty they'd receive if caught amidst their rendezvouses within business hours, or any hours at all, was critical.

Nanami’s sturdy build dangerously whined, practically yearning to be seized in his current predicament of being caged between his mahogany desk with his beige slacks pooled around his ankles and a parted mouth belonging to an ally of his enemy.

"Your reputation is on the line. If caught, it floods down the drain," She murmured an obvious reminder, doe eyes that were peering up a contradiction to her air of haughtiness whilst she leisurely trailed her soothing palms up his bare thighs, applying more pressure the further she advanced.

Purposely, she heaved deliberate huffs against his swollen tip that nudged her bottom lip a few times, minuscule froths embedding into the micro crevices dispersed amongst the pouty cushions of sensual mouth, disrupting his momentary envision that depicted her as a sinner awaiting repentance, entertaining the myth she was an entity of divinity with a seraphic grin, when in reality she was a diabolic persona enabled with virulent thorns he’d present his palms prepared to bleed from.

"So is yours,” He retorted pointedly, “Yet you accepted my offer and are now down on your knees with an awaiting mouth.".

She mulled over his response with a subtle tilt of her head with feigned innocence. It was aggravating to witness her cunning attributes aid her in manoeuvring the conversation to play out in her favour, the ability to have him wanton and yearn for the enemy’s bliss. He would have concluded, ‘How diabolical for a being to be created such as herself’, had she not been so foolishly compelling to encounter.

"I suppose – but answer me this, Sir,” She examined his grounded jaw, minimising the distance between herself and his cock she had generated, his genitalia truthfully invigorated by her detestable antics as she discarded a gentle chaste kiss to his rosy tip. “If I were to walk away right now, would you be frustrated, or would I?".

Guileful riddles fractured Nanami’s glacial façade, his portrait powdered by the stereotypical colourant related to Cupid, confounded by characteristics he would have never predicted from their initial encounter.

"Don't act coy so suddenly," He hissed as he wound her silk tresses around his callous knuckles, a purposive yank on her strands.

Taunting snickers congested the void of his secluded office, his workspace littered with necessities but only two presences.

"An act? You know that's just how I am. Seeing the corruption of patience under my presence is mouthwatering." She innocently purred.

"Well, since it’s obvious that your mouth is good at talking," Nanami permitted his head to loll slightly, the deplorable urgency to endure the paradisiacal perimeters of her mischievous tongue curled around him excruciatingly evident.

Trickles of translucent gooeyness melded atop her lone tastebuds that craved an alternative substance to substitute the typical vocabulary clinging to her tongue’s guards that’d leech onto air particles beyond the cage of her canines.

“Be a good assistant and show me it’s just as good as making me cum.”.

“Is that you admitting you need me?” She enquired, and her calculated touch subbed for the lack of her oral talent, enveloped digits stroking at a leisurely rate, which evoked perspiration down his tensed nape as the damp beads permeated his unbuttoned collar whilst his abdominal region clenched in response to the confines of Satan’s playground sown into the routes of her palms that metaphorically sear his stoic member following every languid caress.  

Nanami could only lovingly shush her when a hefty sigh deflated his shoulders burdened with Tokyo’s worldly obstacles once she finally concluded her reign of tantalising torment by utilising her warm appendage to barely douse his erection with a developed lather of saliva, his stature perched against the support of his sturdy desk relied on further as her motions provided respite for her previous behaviour, alleviating the throbbing ache.

Momentarily screwing his vision closed, he rasped at the abrupt, overwhelming sensation of having his dick trapped between the narrow enclosure of her throat. His eyes widened, and he saw her almost gag but sneak a resolute glance.

The male threaded with tresses of spun aureate, each strand filaments from the incandesce sphere soon to exchange with its crescent counter-part, stretched out her mouth in a manner unlike ever before; however, she refused to let that specific factor refrain him from foregoing the vibrations of her hums, moaning both his moniker and other lovey titles with lewd undertones.

"You're doing so well, Sweetheart," He mumbled, her manicured nails clawing deeper into the puffy flesh of his thighs as his grip lingered atop the crown of her head, questioning whether the two peaks peeping out her cascading locks were hallucinatory or attested to the infernal identity he associated her with.

His impure fascination regarding whether she would appear ethereal with one of her most beneficial assets stuffed with himself proved correct; the accuracy of the endangering sight now engrained in his mind was now one he couldn’t bring himself to complain about.

Meanwhile, L/n’s head bobbed skilfully, gradually embracing his enormity, bestowed protruding veins immersed in the sprawl beneath the underside of his sturdy shaft, which she awarded extra attention to. Contrastingly, Nanami tossed affectionate glorification, maintaining the mutual gaze with the powerful woman who ensured he spectated her ruthless ministrations as she gagged when he twitched against the back of her throat, almost stupefied from the musky yet sweet taste.

Contrarily, the brutality behind his intentional thrusts enlivened her libido as longing brewed between her thighs suffocated by the stitching of her charcoal pencil skirt; the urge to relieve the ache by canting into her palm blockaded by her selection of apparel.

“There we go, be good to me, Love,” Nanami lowly pleaded, noticing dampness sting the seams of her ardent sight, which beamed at his indications he was nearing his erotic demise; his groans gravely as he attempted to resist in order to utilise her bewitching visage for as long as possible – but to no avail as Nanami stilled, propelling her delicately-carved nose into his pubic region with a chocked moan whilst a tepid, salty onslaught dripping with gratification scorched her sore throat.

"God dammit," He heaved with an orotund tone before an airy chuckle, somewhat musing at their circumstances before solemnity breached his utopia.

“You know…” He leaned down, placing a feathery peck atop her lips before helping her to his feet, lean arms secured around her sultry waist as she seized his funky tie, warm breath greeting his as a grunt of discomfort escaped his mouth from being abruptly hunched over. “I regret not giving you a chance. Having someone of your expertise would be good for my team.”.

“So I can imagine, but…”

He gawked with evident surprise; a malice simper carved by the devil ghosted her plump lips tainted with the aftermath of their illicit interaction.

"I’d still vote for Geto Suguru.”.

© 6ixtoru all rights are reserved. do NOT repost or copy my work

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

Challenges of Raising a 6 Month Old Demon

Rebel Without Pants

...

It was 9 am in your suite at the Hazbin Hotel and you were currently watching your husband and daughter fling themselves and each other out of the small shadow pockets they continued to open in a weird game of cat and mouse wack-a-mole. You let loose a loud sigh of exasperation as Alastor once again caught the small fawn by her tiny hoof and begin threading the pair of cotton pants unto it, only for her to use her own spectral tendrils to yank his tail. He sounded a surprised bleat, while his child wiggled out of his grasp and tossed the clothing onto the ground with a giggle.

"Now see here, young lady!", the tall deer flung a pointed claw in the direction of the grinning diapered demon, "You WILL wear clothes! Or so help me, I will take away your-"

Your husband quickly looked around for something to make his threat credible, but smiled darkly when he eyed a certain container. "Or I will take away your yogurt covered eyes!", he continued to smirk triumphantly at Evangeline's low growl. She had been gifted those treats from her beloved Auntie Rosie from Cannibal Town and they were her favorite snack.

You knew this threat would not go over well with your daughter and could only watch as she tucked her ears back, hissed in static, and narrowed her eyes before darting into another shadow pit. The entire room was, then, painted in darkness as a wary Alastor stood firm in the middle. Waiting for the attack.

His tendrils stood flailing at the ready with different articles of clothing, when, suddenly, he was smacked on the back of his leg by a small, furry ragamuffin. He immediately went to grab his fleeing child before the feeling of weightlessness seized him. The shadows disappeared into the hole your fawn had created, and lured her father into, before you noticed Alastor falling past the tower windows and unto a confused Angel Dust outside. He must've not seen her trap hole with his own shadows covering the entirety of the room, you reasoned and looked down at the laughing spider holding your furious husband like a princess.

Turning around, Evangeline was under the bed trying to open the child proof clasp on her snack container. With a shriek of frustration when she was unable to overpower the magic lock, she threw it down at your feet in a silent request. Unfortunately for her, you were now running late for your meeting with Charlie so you fixed her with a hard stare. At that moment, your mate had made it back up to the tower window and began to coil his muscles and shake his growing antlers. (Many of which sported impaled baby shirts, socks, and pants)

Here we go again. You thought looking at your watch as the small fawn once again reared up at her father from the ground.

"Evangeline Hartfelt!", you spoke with intensity and at once commanded the attention in the room. You almost never raised your voice so the two deer immediately focused on your next words. "I have had enough of this foolishness." You walked forward to pick up the still locked, dented yogurt box and held it out to her. The small fawn's eyes widened with curiosity.

"If you be a good girl and dress properly, you may have your snack.", you fingered the latch open with a precise slowness, "if not, Mommy and Daddy will eat them all!"

The little deer hopped up quickly as you let out a forced evil laugh and brought an eye up to your lips. She allowed Alastor to properly dress her (he actually enjoyed picking out her outfits) with only a few whines when he groomed her fur covered head with his tongue. However, she nuzzled back into his cheek when he softly purred a bit and gently scratched at her tiny antlers.

You smiled and threw 2 of the yogurt eyes in their direction, which they happily caught with their teeth and followed you out the door to FINALLY begin the day.

...

Hey everyone 🙂 been a minute but I had this idea from the other day and wanted to write it really quick (inspired by my own tiny rebel who absolutely refuses to dress in anything but her diaper 😅)

I'm nearly done with the 4th chapter of The Rival and hope to have it out asap

-SSPR

[porcalinecunt]

𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 !

𐐂 what if kakucho was an incubus . . . ?

🩰 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐒! 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

🧴𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader. soft dom! kakucho. sub!reader. fingering. biting. blood. sound kink. size kink(?). soft sex. kakucho has a tail. cumshots.

a/n: happy 2024 yall! sorry i haven’t been posting much, school was kicking my ass and i’ll be just as busy for the next few months ahead. i want to continue the incubus series though so here’s kakucho! if you want to request a charecter, my inbox is open! as always, enjoy! 🤍

꒰ incubus! kakucho would notice you in your most vulnerable state, desperately riding what looked like a fuzzy depiction of another man. your body language and a face too euphoric for someone fucking a rando said enough about your troubles. you missed someone, and you missed them bad. at least, not for long.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would make sure his welcome was warm, retracting his claws and hiding his massive wings as you opened your eyes to meet him in yet another dream. his hands were soft, squeezing the plush of your thighs and hips. your confusion quickly washed away as you felt something slither around your arm. it was black and furry with a sharp, pointed end. his tail wrapped snug around your arm, almost pulling you closer to him.

꒰ incubus! kakucho slithers his fingers in your immediately, watching your face contort in pleasure as he finds your weak spots with ease. you could only stare in awe as he leans into your neck, biting into the soft skin. hot blood trickled down your chest, but your senses were so overwhelmed with pleasure that the sting faded into nothingness. nonetheless, he was careful. Treating you with a tenderness that most incubuses would throw into the wind, consider yourself a lucky one.

꒰ incubus! kakucho, after easing your pussy and drenching his fingers, would slowly sink his cock into you. he would only stop, as he watched you struggle to take it. you’re not the first mortal to struggle taking him, and certainly not the last. unable to keep your legs open, kakucho pushed them down until they touched your chest while keeping them together, exposing your cunny completely. he watched in awe as you swallowed him whole, sighing in response.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would savor every last sound you made. every loud moan and yelp your throat forced out just went straight to his dick, driving him deeper into your greedy cunt. despite your shy and hesitant demeanor, you refused to let him slip out even by accident. kakucho pushed himself forward, placing both hands besides your head, caging you completely. he admired you as your syrupy eyes looked around at the current position you were in as your mouth hung open.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would reach closer and closer to his orgasm, holding your legs and keeping your thighs spread apart while his pace grew sloppy. he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a long and slow kiss. incubuses would bust a lung laugh at the mere thought of intimacy with a mortal, but kakucho still had his shread of kindness that he gladly shared as you came around his cock from the shockingly gentle act.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would feel his dick twitch as the knot in his stomach began to snap. he’d pull out and give himself a few more strokes before threads of his seed would paint your trembling body. groaning and sighing, he adored the sight in front of him. your legs trembling while your chest and face were flushed. his cum spilled all over your stomach, some even reaching your chin. if only he could stay for longer, but it’s no big deal after all! you’ll see him again soon enough the next time you miss a hookup or ex. <3

🎀 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millennia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday

Tagged in for the WIP game earlier this week by the amazing @renmackree & @lucky-bishop 🥰

I'm currently working on the upcoming chapter six of my Sterek High School AU, call it off - so please enjoy a little snippet from that!

-

Inside, Stiles just about picks up the sound of footsteps thundering down the staircase, fast enough to be skipping at least two or three steps at a time. He is only left standing, waiting, for a few moments more before the door shudders and swings raucously open. The sight of Derek standing there, just a small step over that threshold, is enough to curve a smile quickly onto Stiles’ mouth.

Derek is softer like this, Stiles has delightedly had the opportunity to discover. At home, he does not bother with gel in his dark hair, and he wears clothes designed purely for comfort, like the cottony white t-shirt and loose grey basketball shorts he has on right now, his hairy feet bare as his toes curl into the carpet underneath them.

His face is open, comfortable, atypically at ease, too. There is no mask there tonight, no meticulously upheld façade. There is just the slow and easy spread of his smile in return, the spark of happiness in his pale eyes as he quietly takes all of Stiles in.

“Hey,” Stiles says.

“Hey,” Derek replies.

Stiles does not even consider resisting when Derek reaches out to him, threading their fingers easily together with the effortlessness of practice. He lets Derek tug him inside and slip the door closed behind them, and it is nothing of a surprise when he finds himself being pressed quickly back against it, the bulk of Derek’s athletic body happily trapping him against that solid wooden surface.

They are both still smiling as they sway towards one another to meet in a slow, soft kiss.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Derek says, still close enough that the words are a warm breath over Stiles’ mouth. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all night.”

“Sure,” Stiles says, shoulder lifting casually even as his stomach swoops and somersaults. “Anytime.”

It is scary, really, just how much unchecked truth rests in that simple statement. Anytime truly does mean any time. He is at Derek’s mercy, at Derek’s beck and call, anytime and anywhere. If Derek asks for him, if Derek wants him – Stiles cannot say no.

Leaning in again, Derek catches Stiles’ mouth in another kiss, his touch slipping underneath the hem of Stiles’ hoodie to brush faintly back and forth against his skin, just above the waistband of his jeans. Stiles buries his fingers into Derek’s soft hair and kisses back easily, eagerly, immediately, wiling away countless seconds just enjoying the feel of one another, just savouring in being finally alone, together, like this.

A faint line dents between Derek’s eyebrows when he pulls back just enough for Stiles to be able to see it. It takes Stiles a confused moment to figure out its cause, to understand what Derek’s clouded gaze is sweeping painstakingly over, but eventually, it clicks: the healing, but not yet all the way faded, bruise around Stiles’ eye.

Truthfully, Stiles is used to Derek carving out time to inspect its mending progress by now. Derek has done precisely this every single time that they have met up since. Stiles simply bears it quietly and without commentary or argument, because he learned quickly that no scoffing at Derek that he is fine, seriously, would ever be enough to get Derek to give up on this remorseful ritual.

The hand at Stiles’ side begins to drag slowly upwards, grazing lightly enough to tickle, just slightly, pulling a breathy laugh from his smiling mouth, his eyelashes fluttering helplessly against the height of his cheekbones. Undeterred by this reaction, or perhaps even motivated by it, Derek continues skating his gentle fingers up and up and up, until they are precisely where Stiles expects them to stop.

His touch is tender as it traces around yellowing edges. Stiles lets his head tip backwards against the front door.

“It looks better today than it did yesterday,” Derek says.

Stiles lets a smirk tick up one corner of his mouth.

“That tends to happen with wounds,” he says drily. “Time heals ‘em. Haven’t you heard?”

Derek huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes and flicking Stiles oh so lightly on the very tip of his nose. He slides his fingers beneath the curve of Stiles’ jaw, the pad of his thumb quick to settle just under the notch, gently cupping Stiles’ face as he looks him right in the eye.

“Smartass,” he accuses, enough fondness in that single word to have Stiles’ heart skipping over a beat. “And Theo – he’s still leaving you alone now, right?”

Now, it is Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, big guy,” he says. “No need to fret so much. That asshole is sufficiently terrified of you and all of your rippling muscles.”

Which is not even an exaggeration. Stiles still has no idea what Derek did or what Derek said to Theo, because Derek literally refuses to tell him the details of that interaction no matter how much he pokes and prods and pleads, but Theo has been well and truly warned into leaving Stiles alone.

Whenever Theo sees Stiles now, he looks the other way. Hell, if he spots Stiles even strolling in his general direction at school, he spins around and freaking sprints the other way. Whatever Derek did, said, or threatened, it is having its intended effect of scrubbing Theo’s target firmly away from Stiles’ back.

And – maybe Derek did it because he felt guilty enough about how he reacted in the first place, or maybe Derek did it because Paige pestered him enough to get involved, to speak to Theo, just like she promised Stiles she would have Derek do. But no matter the reason, and no matter the truth that Stiles may be too afraid to hear, Theo is leaving him alone now. He chooses to focus on the relief that afford him and thinks about nothing else.

“You’ll tell me if he starts up with you again,” Derek says.

He does not even bother framing it as a question. Stiles nods, anyway.

“I promise,” Stiles says. “You’ll be the first to know.”

What guarantee he has that Derek will not simply revert, will not simply fall back to behave and avoid and allow just like he did last time… Stiles does not know. He can only live in this moment, with Derek’s hands warm against him, and Derek’s soft smile lighting up in front of him, and he can let himself pretend, even just for this little while, that nothing else, past or future or outside of these tall walls, will ever come to matter.

-

No pressure tags! ❤️ @ahhhnorealnamesallowed @dear-massacre @like-lazarus @shieldofiron @teencopandthesourwolf

[miraculousshitandgigles]

Chrono gotham was a prompt that was a throwaway back in a old discord server I was a part of, nobody did it because most of them thought it was to challenging I couldn't agree more my skills aren't ment for this kind of prompt.

It basically goes when tim made his plan to get Bruce out of the time stream he knew that Bruce would be filled with time energy and would need to release it."which is a little canon but I can't really remember" so he made a plan to basically put Gotham in Chronostasis with this energy. It was a good plan as long as every Gotham rouge was in Gotham right.

It gets out of hand quickly Tim plan work of course but like half the justice league,plus all the bats are here and like a lot heavy hitters as well and tim plan used making something to get all of their rouges into Gotham he didn't expect dark side to take the bate as well. With a bunch of others as well.

And then the Chrono stasis happens and yeah the justice league, titans , and young justice are all fine at half power for sure but their fine at first. It becomes obvious without any of the bats most of information network is gone they make it by with what they have but responses that where once planned a month in advance where days or immediate reactions because they had no idea.

At first not having super man isn't a bad thing until the justice league needs to deal with one of his more common problems maybe or somebody who isn't exactly a justice league threat normally because super man just deals with them and now the league needs constant checks on them.

The titans, and young justice fuse with justice league just to keep going. An then their the political problems at first it's like how did we deal with these before and the answer is batman blocked them or him and/or Superman did negotiations if wonder woman's still around she's can do some of them but she's isn't made for this she doesn't have Clarks charisma or Bruces blackmail and political understanding.

They get by they really do but it's by a thread and this makes something else really cool. The potential for crossovers. Like ladybug and Danny phantom for example like of course we can't help where doing everything we can already send them a training manual and invite maybe and see if their okay if yes Don't worry about it, Martian manhunter is needed in Peru for helping with the floods and black canary is in a UN meeting. Flash oh he's currently covering for like three cities and barley has help so of course he not helping. What about cyborg oh he's like the last thread of are intelligence network he's doing his best but sorry. Green lantern sorry after 3 of 5 got sealed their constantly needed in space.

And the list goes on and it's gives this amazing opportunity to write how the league gets threw it or how when the bats return how they so much to clean up. Or how they start helping these other groups that appeared like ladybug and Danny it's a real good prompt just a lot of moving parts and trauma to work threw because the bats just went threw hell and the league is not much better.

Edited: hey a lot villains are also stuck btw so theirs that as well

[luneariaa]

this really took me some time to decide on how to actually write the story lmaoo;; ngl the plot got somehow lost 😭

contains angst but comforting ending; not much proofread.

also tagging @sody-toast !!

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 💜🌻

"So, the usual, Mike?"

The girl behind the cash register machine asks for confirmation, along with a friendly smile plastered upon her face. Mike is spaced out-- as per usual, so when hearing those words, it's enough to bring him back to reality.

"Oh, yes." He gave his own quick reply, before seemingly becoming a bit lost in his own thoughts of the past once again.

"Got it!"

While the girl has her back facing him, he simply waits there silently. But that is, until he sees someone rather familiar from the distance.

He sees you, waving at him while grinning happily from afar outside the bakery he was currently in.

Your sudden appearance sends him into a temporary state of shock, clearly not expecting this. Without wasting any time, he reaches for the door and goes out, the food he ordered being left forgotten as he chases you out while you run someplace.

As his feet hit the hard ground below onto the pavement outside, he eventually caught up to you pretty quickly.

"Hey!"

Slowing down a bit, he grabs your wrist and prevents you from running away any further. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

He wasn't even realizing that he's been smiling a bit all the while, though it didn't last when he finally realizes that it's not you that he's been chasing. It's just a total stranger who happens to pass by the streets, now looking at him weirdly.

That's not you, never was. He's just trying to convince himself that you were the one who just waved at him. Smiling, laughing at him..

By this point, he just feels pathetic and ashamed of himself.

But was it truly his fault, when all he's trying is to cling to the thin thread that he created upon himself? To come to terms with you being truly gone, but it's a hard process for him despite it happened a few years ago; he lost count.

Just great.

Working at Freddy's once again, and it's already quite exhausting for him. But he needed the job for the cash; for him and Abby.

So far, nothing really interesting has happened, so this leads to him deciding to take a quick nap at his security desk. What could go wrong, right? But the second he closes his eyes, his thoughts immediately drift back to you, replaying old memories that have passed through time.

Mike could remember the days when you both would spend time with each other even with limited time possible. Your eyes would meet his own every so often, a soft smile playing on your lips that's reserved for him.

The look of pure adoration and love in your eyes that he would never get tired of. And you're wearing the outfit that he bought for you during your first date with him.

How could he ever look away whenever you decided to wear it? It looks so perfect on you, he couldn't stop staring for hours shamelessly.

But nothing lasts forever. That's what he keeps trying to remind himself with.

You were supposed to buy something from the store while Mike was away at work around that time of day, but that fateful day has also marked your forever end as well.

You never came back.

The day you died-- it was a hit-and-run accident. Blood was everywhere, even staining your own clothes. Your head was being hit hard on the road, which caused you to go unconscious almost instantly. The phone you previously were holding has flung elsewhere; the screen cracked badly.

Maybe he shouldn't let you out that day. Maybe he should've stayed at home. Maybe, just maybe..

He would've changed the past if he could, but alas, there's nothing that he can do. He's just a human, after all.

A series of painful images flash through his mind while he's still asleep-- one of them being the day he found out that you're being involved in the said accident. He could never forget no matter how hard he tried to.

"No, no, no, no.."

"Not again. Damn it." He covers his face with his own hands out of frustration. He just wants the nightmares to stop.

But at the same moment, he could've sworn he could feel your touch; hugging him from behind. The soft caress of your hand on his back is unmistakable. He could feel it.

Mike takes a few deep breaths, as if to try to compose himself. His attempts to reach back to return your mere touch are futile, nonetheless, only grabbing at the nothingness in the air.

It's a harsh reality, and you are not coming back.

Mike was starting to give up once more, but stopped from doing so when he felt your mere touch on his cheeks. It feels so tender, loving, warm.. He could see you standing in front of him; placing a needed kiss on his forehead affectionately, before a warm smile was plastered on your features.

No words were needed at the moment. He doesn't really care if he's going insane due to the whole situation; he just needed you.

Even when you're not coming back alive-- to him, his memory of you will live on forever.

"Stay." His voice sounded quiet and hoarse, almost begging. "Please.."

You didn't respond, however. But the smile on your face is enough to reassure him that you're there with him at that exact moment.

But it's enough for him. He knows that you'll be with him for as long as he's alive when you start to embrace him ever so tightly and lovingly.

And that's all he needs.

© 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚜.

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Chapter 10: Old Friend New Life

Summary:

Geralt was given an address by Emhyr to seek the answers why he must accept the contract. There, Geralt meets an old friend and the witcher got more than he bargained for.   Spoiler: This chapter follows one of the three endings of Blood and Wine, making it the canon ending for this fic.

The address led Geralt to an antique-esque establishment that has seen better days and looked out of place among its more up-to-date, prestigious neighbors. It looks like it belonged in a different district. Or a different century. Several centuries. Without the empires’ intervention in preserving heritage structures, the council of merchants- and the capitals planning committee would have demolished the place and erected a building to match the current times.

Geralt glanced up at the shop’s sign above the gray awning, and grinned.

Vinne Exotisch

The etching below it: a goblet surrounded by grapes and an assortment of painted herbs and tubers that are generally identified as deadly poisons. There was an odd sign that did not belong, carved in the center of the goblet.

Geralt recognized it immediately. To the ignorant, it is just any other daring danger symbol. Geralt has seen them carved inside the walls of the human pens in Tesham Mutna.

The symbol of the Gharasham Tribe.

The door opened from the inside and a well-dressed young man exited, holding a wine bottle wrapped in dark brown paper that looked finer than the establishment it belonged to. Geralt grabbed the door before it closes, entered and flipped the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSE”.

A familiar cultured voice greeted him from behind the counter.

“Pick your poison, witcher, I believe I may have a bottle or two that you’ve not tried yet but I guarantee, it is far more satisfying that the usual concoctions you imbibed before a hunt, and much more intoxicating than all the wines in Toussaint.”

Geralt smiled, unbuckling his swords to rest on the counter surface.

“Well, well, you finally decided to market your mandrake brews to the public. I expected you’d be a barber-surgeon or a medic, not a vintner.”

Regis stepped out from behind the counter to shake Geralts’ proffered hand. The witcher, instead, pulled the vampire into a bear hug. After, Geralt held Regis at arms length and gave his old friend a look over, and chuckled.

“Heh, mister fancy pants! Traded your threadbare coat for some expensive threads-” he sniffed “- and smelling of soap instead of the inside of an apothecary.”

Regis gave him a full toothed grin, showing off those frighteningly sharp teeth. “Why not! In this city, cleanliness is next to godliness is the unwritten strict policy that every citizen of the empire takes into heart.”

Like the majority of the nilfgaardians, Emiel Regis wore black. His doublet is embroidered with gold threads in the pattern of elven vines partly covered by a fine short black cloak chained across and below his left armpit. He posed like a matador for Geralt.

“You like it? The outfit gives off an air of trust: which is very vital for a merchant selling exotics. Separates the snake oil salesmen from the experts.”

An eccentric expert more like, Geralt though humorously. “I never cared for doublets so I don’t know much about fashion. Try asking Yennefer. But you do look like you belong with the nobility. I can’t say the same about your shop.”

Regis waved a hand in dismissal. “Ah yes, this building is outdated, but it adds to the appeal of my exotic brews. Did you notice the sign outside?”

“Pretty hard to miss, since you advertise the tribe you belonged to. That is a dangerous symbol to wave about around these parts, even if, as you say, that nilfgaardians are so modern in their sensibilities that they think your kind are just boogeymen to scare the children to behave.”

“No humans have seen our vampire symbols, apart from yourself. And there are Toussaintous who mistook the visible ones as signs of the old gods of this world, even pray to them.”

[mercurialharpy]

Disappointment even when you don't meet your shitty heroes, but they still haunt you.

Step into my own personal wayback machine for a moment. It was Fall of 1992, I was rooming with five young women I barely knew in a college dorm suite, at a college I'd transferred to the year before. I remember looking at an end table and on it, was a comic book. I'd never been into comics personally. Like most folks at the time I'd imagine, I (incorrectly) assumed that comics were for kids, and strictly for superheroes.

I was about to learn how wrong I was. This happened to be an issue of The Sandman, and was borrowed by one of my roommates from her boyfriend. He happened to be there when I was thumbing through it. I don't remember exactly what we said; all I recall was he disappeared, and re-appeared a half an hour later with Preludes and Nocturnes, a collection of The Sandman issues 1-8. I was hooked. Completely and absolutely. From that moment forward, I was a Neil Gaiman fan, and although I wasn't a hardcore consumer of every piece he's done, I would stan him and defend him and his work to anyone who would listen. My roommate and her (now) husband, who remained friends with me for decades after college, have had more than one book signed for me from the man himself.

Following the end of the original Sandman series, the novel American Gods became my second favorite. When, in the late 2010s and early 2020s, I learned my two favorite works were finally in production for television, I was beside myself with joy. Vindication. At least for me, being a fan of Gaiman was like being in a club no one else wanted to be in but you.

In following the threads of the main plot of the series, Morpheus himself was an outcast because of the trauma he suffered at the hands of vile people. In turn, he was not a particularly nice guy. I absolutely got the message that you could be a literal god, and be broken at the same time. This, paired with learning about Greek Mythology while in school, gave me a deep and satisfying understanding of the material that persisted for years. Almost a decade before The Sopranos or Breaking Bad lit a fire under the antihero archetype, Gaiman had it on lock with his work. The best foreshadowing is when you don't see it coming at all, I suppose. I will always be a fan of the work. But I'm not in the club anymore. Even now, I'm gazing at a bound version of the entire Sandman series on the shelf, and I've given serious consideration to tossing it out with the trash bin entirely. In all honesty, I had a sinking feeling when I watched the premier of American Gods on Starz (a now defunct network). It was at once a very good show, and a very flawed adaptation of the novel. In one of the promo pieces for the show, I remember reading that Gaiman was immediately at odds with Producer Bryan Fuller, and the differences ultimately caused Fuller to leave the project while taking some of the A list actors with him. All I could think was "uh-oh. This isn't going to make it to the end." And boy was I right. But not exactly for the reasons I thought.

So now we know. All of the articles I could find discussing the allegations against Gaiman and his current wife are behind paywalls, so I'm not going to link them here. I would recommend heading to Reddit for the ugly details. Both the decades-old assault allegations, and Gaiman's jaw-dropping responses, have left me questioning what exactly I should do with a piece of foundational literature that as a writer, I depended on as one of my touch stones. Another creator on Tumblr (of course I can't find the blog NOW when I need it) mentioned that supporting the remaining seasons of The Sandman TV series and Good Omens is probably a good thing despite a moral imperative to stop supporting the author; it helps maintain an ecosystem of actors and TV/film production that has suffered terribly in the wake of the Covid Pandemic and the recent writer's strike. But that doesn't solve my internal struggle. In discussing the situation with my partner, he quipped "Well, why would he stop being an asshole, if he was consistently rewarded for it? Networks were tripping over themselves to offer this guy deals. Someone had to know what was really going on, and chose to ignore it." Oof. Late-stage capitalism strikes again. While researching this post, I came across a quote from actor Norm MacDonald, from his memoir "Based On A True Story:" “It's true what they say. Never meet your heroes. It turns out they're all a bunch of fucking assholes. They're probably the reason you turned into such a fucking asshole - because they were your heroes and you spent all your time trying to be like them.”

Yup. Accurate. A good Wiccan friend, who has since passed into the Summerlands, told me during a particularly ugly divorce "Harpy, remember the opposite of love is indifference, not hate. " This quote is often attributed to Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. The source notwithstanding, this quote never sat right with me. In America, we are now contending with an almost terminal lack of empathy, as the authoritarian shit-show circus revs its engine. We are, again, a place where the cruelty is the point, and it appears co-conspirators are literally lining up to inflict as much damage as possible on weaker individuals without agency. I care. I'll never stop caring. This is my fatal flaw, my hubris. My middle-finger to the gods that be, telling me not to care, and look the other way. I will not obey in advance. And I will not pretend that something I loved dearly wasn’t created and elevated via the suffering of other women, directly or indirectly. In short, I refuse to be haunted by an author I once had boundless respect for. As a Norse Pagan, I don't pray to the gods for forgiveness per se. We (or as least I, in my practice) make offerings, and ask for help in just being a better person; take responsibility for missteps and hurtful things, as we know not even the Gods are immune from consequences.

I see none of this kind of contrition coming from Gaiman. I see a lot of narcissistic self-soothing and justification that just, well...turns my stomach. Musician Tori Amos's response to the allegations alone made me sob. I know well, having been the victim of narcissistic bullshit in the past. This avoidance may be a strategy for side-stepping potential legal exposure. Or, it could be that he's just an actual predatory asshole. For now, the book stays on the shelf. But I won't be touching it, or looking at it for a while. The ghosts will just have to chill for a minute, and be content with indifference for now.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 50 ~ Bring me to Life

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 4

✧ Word Count : 7.5k

In this chapter ~ When all hope seemed to be lost and the sickness only getting worse, the group finally returns with the meds after a very close call. With her newfound freedom, Rose decides to take full advantage to spend it doing something exciting. Although, nothing can last forever, and just as she was finally feeling happy again, it all came crashing back down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ROSE POV ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of coughing bounced off of the walls around the three of us as we tried to help a man named Henry who was currently fighting for his life. Glenn and I panted heavily as we tried to hold him down on the ground as he continued to squirm, while Hershel was attempting to lower a tube down his throat so we could get air in his lungs.

"Henry, we need you to calm down. We're trying to help." Hershel said through the man's coughs and heavy breaths.

He kept fighting the feeling of the thick tube slowly slipping down his throat, and I honestly couldn't blame him, it probably felt awful. I wanted to gag just looking at the scene. But we needed to do this in order for him to live, clearing his lungs for him because his body could no longer fight and do it himself.

Eventually, Hershel got it down far enough and attached the airbag on the other end, squeezing it quickly so air could flow into his lungs, and the man stopped struggling almost immediately as his eyes fluttered closed. Glenn and I both sighed in relief as we pulled our hands away from his chest, continuing to cough and try to catch our own breaths after watching him struggle for so long.

"Drink some of that," Hershel nodded to the cups of tea sitting next to Glenn, "Both of you."

Glenn lazily handed one of the mugs to me as he lifted the glass up to his lips as well. Hershel just continued to squeeze the bag for Henry every few seconds as he watched us breath, drinking the tea he continued to provide.

"Some council meeting, huh?" Hershel asked, his tone sounding as if he hoped to bring light to the situation.

I huffed out a breath, "We're a few members short."

"I think we should make some new rules before they get back." the old man announced, "I hereby declare, we have spaghetti Tuesdays...every Wednesday." he joked. The two of us just looked at him blankly. "But first we have to find some spaghetti."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I let out a dry chuckle, "You know what, I would love to live to see spaghetti Wednesdays."

The two men both gave me a look, staring at me with disapproving eyes, "Oh, what? He can make a joke, but I can't. Hypocrites."

Hershel chuckled lightly, "You okay to take over?" he asked holding the airbag out to me and I nodded, "Every five to six seconds, squeeze. You start feeling lightheaded, grab somebody else to take over. We'll take it in shifts."

I nodded again and began to squeeze the bag like he instructed me. I was determined to keep him alive for as long as I could, hoping that the group would be back any minute now and save the man's life. We had already lost too many people in the time that they were gone, I wanted desperately to avoid another. I could feel that everyone else was holding on by a thread.

Not only that, but my worry for the ones who went out was only growing more by each hour that they hadn't returned. In the back of my mind I knew that they were okay, they were smart enough to make a trip like this. But I couldn't help but think it was too far of a trip to make in such a short amount of time. It really hit me then, and only then, that I truly might die before Daryl came back.

I was racking my brain as I continued to keep Henry alive, thinking back to the last thing I said to him before he took off. Until I remembered I just told him I loved him, and felt myself sigh in slight relief, knowing that if I were to die, at least my last words to him was something meaningful.

About an hour passed and I was starting to feel tired, my hands growing weaker by the second as they started to cramp up. Keeping someone breathing really was a lot of work, I didn't know how Hershel was holding his shit together so well. Glenn took notice and offered to take over, allowing me to take a break as I slowly waddled my way out of the cell, wanting to check on a few others in the space. But Hershel seemed to read my mind, coming up to me the second I left the room and asked if I could make his rounds with him.

We walked down the stairs silently and looked in to check on who was still alive. We passed by a few breathing people before Hershel stopped suddenly at a cell and saw a man with blood coming out of his eyes, and I peered down at his chest to see he was completely still. I closed my eyes when I saw him, and Hershel was quick to set his light down to fully walk into the room. I knew what I had to do, and I slowly took out my knife with a breath, but Hershel placed his hand on top of mine.

"No. Not here." he whispered.

He then walked back out of the room quickly while I watched the deceased man, making sure he didn't come back at the wrong time. The old man returned only a few seconds later with a stretcher so we could roll him out and put him down without anyone else having to see.

"Help me get him on this." he whispered.

I sighed as my mind began to wander, "But what about in a couple of hours, when Henry's dead,-"

"Rose." he whispered sternly.

"How are we going to get his body down the stairs and across the cellblock without anyone noticing?" I asked, "It's hard enough to do that when they're on the ground level."

"If that happens- if- you're going to help me." he responded.

I took in a breath as I looked at him seriously, "And what if I'm gone?" I asked quietly.

"Shut up," he whispered harshly, not even wanting to think about my words, "Help me get him on this."

Letting out a heavy breath, I moved to grab his legs to help pick the man up, setting him down on the stretcher gently without making too much noise. We then slowly tried to make our way out of the cellblock without too many people noticing, not wanting them to be aware of the amount of people we were taking out. Though right as we were about to make it up to the door, a child's voice suddenly cut through the quiet cellblock.

"What are you doing?" Lizzy asked.

The two of us whipped around to see the younger girl standing there with a tilted head as she eyed the covered body. I hesitated for a moment, but Hershel was quick to think of something that wouldn't scare her, walking over to bend down to her level.

"We're taking Mr. Jacobson to a quieter place," he said simply before raising his hand to feel her forehead, "Why don't you go get my copy of Tom Sawyer from my room. I want you to read it by tonight."

She coughed into her hand harshly before looking back up to him with a shaking head, "I won't finish it."

"Why?" he asked.

"It's going to get too dark." she replied.

Hershel only nodded in understanding, "Well, give it your best try." he said calmly, hoping to distract her.

I watched as she slowly nodded and walked away, but not without looking back at us a few different times, before completely disappearing back into the darkness of her cell. To be honest that kid always creeped me out.

Though once she had gone back to her room, we quickly ushered the body out of the cellblock and took him down the hall a bit so we could keep this as quiet as possible. The stretcher came to a stop as we glanced around for a moment, pulling out my knife again as I stood up near the man's head, glancing back up towards Hershel with heavy eyes.

"You haven't had to do this yet have you?" I asked him.

He quickly shook his head, "There was one late last night, Glenn did it. People don't need to see it; I don't want them to."

It seemed as though as soon as he finished his sentence, the man beneath the sheet began to groan and try to sit up as he came back to life. I brought my hand down on his chest to keep him still before plunging my knife into the side of his head, ripping it out harshly as his blood began to seep through the white cloth. I mindlessly placed my knife back on my his securely as I looked down at his dead body, hearing Hershel recite a few words from the bible like some kind of funeral.

But my vison slowly began to blur, feeling myself begin to break out into a cold sweat as I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I blinked repeatedly to try and stay awake, steadying myself with my hands on the stretcher, but the darkness was slowly consuming me, and I knew I couldn't last another second as I fell to the floor.

The last thing I managed to hear, was Hershel's panicked voice calling my name before it all went quiet.

My face scrunched up a little as I could see the dim light behind my eyelids, feeling a soft touch running across my head. I grew confused the longer my eyes remained closed, finally peeling them open again as my vison was still just as blurry as before, trying to allow them to adjust as I woke. Eventually my gaze focused on Glenn who hovered above me, his head facing down and his hand resting against my head, gently stroking my forehead with his thumb.

But once he lifted his head to look at me again, seeing me returning to consciousness, he sighed in obvious relief. "Oh, thank God," he muttered as he placed a kiss on my forehead, "Jesus...you've been out for hours." 

My mouth parted in slight shock as I glanced past his head and noticed it was now dark outside. The day completely vanishing it seemed like. I shook my head and tried to think of the last thing I remembered before passing out, "What happened?"

"After you left to put that guy down, you just passed out cold. Hershel had to bring you back in here and lay you down, he said it was probably from exhaustion, dehydration..." he rambled on before sighing again, "God...I thought I was going to lose you." he finished sadly.

"I'm okay." I whispered in reassurance, resting my hand on top of his own as I slowly came back to reality.

He nodded, "Okay, good... just sit tight for a second, I'll be right back. I've gotta check on Henry quick, he's just in the next room."

"Okay," I agreed as he gave me a small smile, shakily standing back up to head outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I stared back up at the ceiling.

I laid there perfectly still as the minutes passed, trying to gather my thoughts as I leaned over, reaching for the cup of water conveniently placed right by my side. I knew I needed to get up, find Hershel to let him know I was okay, wanting to know if there were any signs from Daryl. But I paused suddenly when it hit me then that Glenn had yet to return, causing me to realize the area had grown oddly silent. A chill ran up my spine as it didn't sit right with me, slowly sitting up on my cot to try and listen for any noise, even so much as someone walking. Anything.

Lizzy's familiar voice then suddenly called out for Hershel in a slight panic, and that alone made my ears perk up. I slowly got out of bed while wincing at my sore muscles before someone else then started to scream. I tried to push myself to move faster out of the room, looking over the balcony to see that there were walkers everywhere, some killing the people who were still alive, while others fought with everything they had to try and defend themselves.

I had watched this familiar scene before, the sight taking me back to when the illness first started. A pit formed in my stomach as I knew we couldn't let it happen again. 

My eyes widened as I turned to rush and find Glenn, but when I made it towards the next room, Henry was nowhere to be found, and Glenn was laying flat on the floor. I instantly dropped to my knees in a panic, turning his head to see he was choking and could no longer breathe, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he struggled.

My stomach dropped, "Hershel!" I called out as I laid him down on his back, beginning to press firmly on his chest to keep his heart beating, performing CPR.

My hands pumped up and down on his chest at a steady pace as I counted to thirty in my head, pinching his nose and tilting his head back so I could breathe into his mouth, before counting all over again. I felt tears forming in my eyes when I saw he still wasn't responding, only growing worse as he fought for his life.

"Come on, Glenn please!" I cried, "Hershel!" I called again over my shoulder, desperate for the old man's help as my vision began to blur.

I repeated the actions over and over again, I wasn't going to stop until he had a heartbeat. My back was still facing the doorway as I hovered over him, barely even hearing the sound of a walker slowly making its way closer before I finally turned around it face it. It was just about to grab my leg until I reached for my knife and stabbed its head harshly, not even bothering to pull it back out as I faced Glenn again.

My arms began to shake as I cried, pushing down harsher and harsher as I refused to believe that this was it for him. I couldn't let him die, not when he was so sure that the two of us would make it out of this together. There was no way in hell I was going to give up on him.

Just as I was about to lean down and breathe into his mouth again, he was dramatically gasping for air, leaning over to spit out a bunch of blood that were once filling his lungs. I sighed in relief as my cheeks were wet with tears, patting his back to try and help him get it all out and clear his lungs.

Hershel then frantically turned the corner with wide eyes once he saw the state we were in, "He stopped breathing." I informed him, trying to catch my breath.

"You saved his life." he replied, "Hold on, we're going to need that airbag." he said before turning back around to find it.

"Wait!" I called out, seeing him stop in his tracks, "I'll go find it. Just keep him breathing, I don't think I can do it anymore." I said as I continued to try and catch my breath.

The man nodded frantically, quickly switched places with me as I walked out of the cell to try and find the airbag we had made. I racked my brain for where it could be, thinking back to the last person who had it. Before I stopped dead in my tracks once my eyes landed on a certain figure that I recognized quite well.

Henry had turned and was now trapped over the balcony, his body lying on the netting that kept him from falling down towards the bottom level of the cellblock...the airbag still attached to his bloody face.

"Son of a bitch." I cursed quietly, before slowly pushing myself to move forward.

I kicked each of my legs over the railing clumsily, falling to my knees in an instant on the flimsy net that was now struggling to support both of our bodies. He noticed me quickly as I gasped for air, taking it to his advantage as he crawled over toward me in an instant, not giving me a chance to balance. He hovered on top of me as his teeth chomped right near my face, my arms struggling to keep the dead weight off of me as my jaw clenched. I could feel my muscles shake wildly as I turned my head away from his face, gritting my teeth as he attempted to sink his teeth into my flesh.

I tried to maneuver his weight slowly, reaching for the airbag from where it was latched onto his face, keeping his teeth away from me as best as I could. I cried out suddenly, not being strong enough to handle it on my own as I was only one step closer to death, before a sudden voice called my name from below me.

My gaze snapped down to see Maggie with wide eyes, aiming her gun towards the walker's head as she saw it was about to kill me, but my screams of protest stopped her. "No! You might hit the bag we need it for Glenn!" I yelled as I continued to struggle with the walker.

I groaned as I continued to fight with the dead, my arms nearly giving out as I tried to reach for the bag one last time. But the weight suddenly subsided in a split second as it collapsed on top of me dead, looking back down to see Maggie lowering her gun.

I nodded quickly in appreciation as I shoved the thing off of me, tugging the airbag from its mouth before trying to stand up on the wobbly net. My heart was racing in my chest and my limbs had never felt weaker as I fought with everything I had to try and make it back up to him, steadying myself on the railing.

"He's turning blue!" Hershel's urgent voice called out, only pushing me to move faster as I lifted myself back onto the second level in a not so graceful manner.

The moment I reentered the room, I handed the airbag to Hershel and couldn't pull my eyes away from his face as he continued to struggle. He was wheezing and gasping for air as blood continued to pour out of his mouth and my breath caught in my throat. I felt tears slip down my face effortlessly once again as Maggie held him down so Hershel could place the tube down his throat to get him breathing again.

My eyes never moved away from him the entire time, standing there like a goddamn statue, not allowing myself to relax until I knew he would be okay.

Once he successfully got it down his throat, he started to squeeze the bag, and Glenn finally stopped struggling as the room went quiet once again. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and plopped down onto the floor in exhaustion, my hands shaking from adrenaline. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead staring down at him as his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. I could barely process the fact that I almost lost him so easily, I didn't want to think about it too much. He was almost ripped away from all of us, and it scared me so badly.

Maggie then noticed me struggling to catch my breath and placed a hand on my leg as she glanced back at me, "Ro? You okay?" she asked.

I tried to form some kind of reply but nothing came out as I started to cough again, blood beginning to pour out of my mouth. I heard Hershel instruct Maggie to keep squeezing the bag for Glenn as he quickly moved over to me, switching places as they both frantically moved. He gently pushed me over to the side so I could get all of the blood out of my mouth, but it just kept coming, a never ending cycle that I couldn't escape from nor prevent. My eyes started to get heavy again and he visibly noticed as he patted my back harder.

"Come on Rose, stay with us." he pleaded as he slowly lifted me up and onto the nearby mattress I was in front of.

I was trying, but I couldn't stop coughing as I struggled to stay awake. I kept trying to tell myself that Glenn needed the airbag, he needed it to stay alive and I needed to pull through for him. But I felt so tired and Hershel's steady voice started to fade again into almost nothing as it was replaced with a slight ringing. I felt myself slowly slipping away again like I did once before, knowing in the back of my mind that this could be it.

Until I suddenly heard the cellblock door slam open and a familiar voice calling my name.

The life was instantly brought back into me as my ears perked up hearing the sound of his sweet voice, however I didn't open my eyes. Though I knew that I was conscious, my eyelids felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds, the feeling being almost painful for me to open my eyes again.

"Up here!" Hershel yelled back, hearing heavy footsteps echo around the place before they were suddenly right in front of the entrance, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"What happened? She pass out?" he asked frantically.

I mustered all the strength I had left in that moment, opening my eyes slightly to see Daryl standing right above me with a bag hanging lazily from his grasp. He noticed almost immediately that my eyes squinted open, not wasting another second before he was kneeling at my side.

"Rosie? Baby?" he whispered softly, the pet name just slipping right out to prove how scared he was, raising his hand to run his thumb over my cheek.

I cleared my throat roughly before nodding my head, "I'm here." I breathed heavily.

There were sighs of relief all over the room upon hearing the sound of my strained and tired voice. I then felt Daryl lean down to place a kiss on the top of my head, "Thank God yer okay." he whispered against my hair, "Yer okay." he repeated.

I smiled weakly at him and saw Bob lingering in the doorway, hesitantly making his way inside to hand out the medicine we needed.

"We need to get her an IV to get the meds in her." Hershel said, beginning to stand.

I sat up quickly upon hearing that, "No." I protested before a cough cut off my words, "Glenn," I breathed, "Help Glenn first."

All eyes were on me in question, but everyone seemed to understand as I laid back down, resting my eyes again. Relief filled my entire being now knowing that Glenn, Sasha, and anyone else who was left was going to be okay. I was going to be okay. A weight was lifted from me, knowing now I could finally relax as everything was falling into place.

Opening my eyes again to look at Daryl, his gaze had never left me, "You're back." I said weakly.

He smiled, "Yeah m' back, angel. And yer gonna be okay." he said quietly, pushing some of my hair back and out of my face.

"You know I'm too stubborn to die."

He chuckled lightly, "Damn straight."

It had been about a week before Hershel would even let me step outside. He wanted me to recover fully before being around everybody else, and I haven't had any human contact other than him in a whole seven days. I had briefly seen Maggie and Glenn since they were in the same cellblock that I was in with Glenn still recovering, but that was it.

After Daryl and the others came back with the meds, he wouldn't let us see each other for the soul purpose so no one else would get sick. So now I was anxiously waiting for his approval, so I could see everyone again after what felt like an eternity. He held the stethoscope up to my chest, telling me to take deep breaths as he listened to the sound of my lungs. But once he was done checking nearly everything under the sun, he didn't utter a word, silently knowing I was dying for him to say something.

I rolled my eyes at his silence, "Oh, spit it out please!" I exclaimed.

He chuckled before slowly nodding his head, "Well it looks like you're in luck...you're free to go, dear."

I squealed in excitement before quickly wrapping my arms around him in a hug, feeling him laugh again before squeezing me back tightly. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him always, how I noticed how hard he was working to save not only my life, but everyone else's. And how I knew he would still look after me even though I was completely in the clear.

When we pulled away from one another, he kept his hands on my shoulders to make sure I wouldn't rush right out, "But take it easy, you hear me? Doctor's orders." he said.

"Oh please, I've been taking it easy for a whole week. I think I'll be okay." I assured.

He nodded, giving my shoulders a soft squeeze, "I love you...I just want you safe and healthy. I'm allowed to worry."

My eyes softened as he voiced his concerns and his adoration, leaning back in to hug him once more as if I couldn't help it, "I love you too..." I whispered, "Thank you for just...everything."

"It's my pleasure, dear." he said as he held me tight, before pulling away again to keep his hands securely on my arms as if he was scared to let me go. It warmed my heart at the thought, knowing that he's always cared for me like a daughter, and I couldn't have cherished it more.

"Why're you acting like we're never going to see each other again?" I laughed, "I'm just going outside for a bit."

He nodded, "I know. But be careful, alright. Don't push yourself too hard."

I rolled my eyes slightly, "Yeah, yeah." I muttered while giving his hand a squeeze and standing to my feet, "See you later, old man." I said over my shoulder, hearing him chuckle to himself as I made my way out of cellblock A.

As soon as I stepped outside the prison walls, I instantly felt relieved as I breathed in the fresh air. I always loved being in the sun because of how much happiness it brought me. Being inside for that long didn't exactly do me any good, feeling like an actual prisoner most of the time as I could hardly even stand up on my own without Hershel scurrying to make sure I wouldn't fall on my ass.

"Rose!" 

I turned around when I heard the brief call of my name, seeing Carl and Beth rushing over toward me quickly with excited smiles. My face broke out into a grin of my own when I caught a glimpse of them, opening my arms for them as they both collided into me to give me a giant hug. I hung onto them tightly, slowly realizing how much I had missed them the longer I held them again in my arms.

"Oh, I missed my babies." I muttered as I squeezed them tighter, hearing them both laugh happily.

"We missed you too." Carl said seriously, beginning to pull away.

"I was so worried about you." Beth said as she looked at me now, clear sadness filling her voice as her features contorted in concern.

I shook my head quickly, "Hey, I'm okay. You don't have to worry about me." I said while placing a hand on each of their cheeks.

Whether they realized it or not, they both leaned into my touch the second I reached up, my heart warming at the sight. I knew how concerned they were, but I would rather go through that a million times over than have them be the one to catch the illness. I would have been a nervous wreck, so I was silently grateful that they were perfectly healthy, and not the other way around.

"So, what are you guys doing?" I asked as I pulled away.

Carl shrugged, "Just taking a walk, do you want to come?"

I went to answer, but then my eyes briefly landed on where Daryl and Rick were standing, leaning against a few of the cars as they spoke. "How about I take a raincheck?"

The two of them turned to where I had been staring before giving each other a certain look, Beth starting to make kissy faces at me which caused me to roll my eyes while Carl snickered to himself. "Oh, shut up." I muttered as I pushed her shoulder. "Bye you two!" I called over my shoulder.

"Bye!" they yelled back as they made their way to the field side by side.

I had a bit of pep in my step as I made my way over toward the vehicles, a part of me a bit surprised that they were talking in the first place considering how they left things. But right on cue, as if they could hear my thoughts, they both turned at the same time when they heard me walking up to them, and Daryl wasted no time jogging over the rest of the way.

He quickly picked me up into a hug, leaving me squealing in surprise as I squeezed him tightly around his shoulders. I felt him sway me back and forth a little as my feet still couldn't quite touch the ground, before lowering me back down with his arms still secured around my waist. I had missed him like crazy, wanting to spend every single second with him until the sun went down to make up for the lost time.

"I missed ya so much." he finally said, pulling back slightly to look me in the eye.

"I missed you more." I whispered.

Rick clearing his throat from behind us is what made our heads turn to look over at him at the same time, "You have an audience." he reminded awkwardly.

I huffed out a small laugh before pulling away from Daryl, making my way over towards him to wrap him in a hug as well. He rested his arms across my shoulders as he squeezed me once, "Hey, Rosie." he whispered.

"Hey," I smiled, "Um...since when did you and Daryl make up?" I whispered in his ear.

I heard him chuckle a little, "Well it took a lot of talking, and me telling him I apologized to you and all that. But we're okay."

"Good." I muttered while finally pulling away from him.

"So, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Refreshed," I said simply, "I can't wait to actually do something." I rubbed my hands together excitedly.

Daryl came closer to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "Well, why don't we get outta here and do somethin. Anythin you wanna do." he suggested.

I raised my eyebrows, "Anything?"

He nodded his head, "Mhm."

I thought about it for a few seconds before a slow smirk was brought onto my face, and I could tell that it made both men a bit nervous. "I don't like that glint in her eye." Rick said.

I smiled as I turned towards Daryl, "I know what I want to do." I spoke confidently.

"Shoot." he said.

"Teach me to drive your motorcycle." I stated without any hesitation.

He stared at me in slight disbelief for a moment, trying to decipher if I was being serious or not before shaking his head, "Nah, no way."

My mouth fell open slightly, "Oh come on! You said anything; that's what I want to do."

"That's really what ya want?" he asked hesitantly, watching as I surely nodded my head.

I had no idea why, but lately I had been itching to get out and ride on Daryl's motorcycle again. However, I wanted to be the one to drive. Though it made me a bit nervous, I couldn't deny that I was excited too, figuring now was a perfect time to learn. I was practically imprisoned for a week straight and I needed to do something.

He sighed and thought about it for a few moments before eventually giving in, "Alright."

I smiled brightly, kissing his cheek as a thank you before moving over towards his bike that was just a few feet away. In all honesty I didn't really know what compelled me to want to learn, but it sounded almost freeing. Although I thought it was funny that I wanted nothing to do with motorcycles in the beginning, and now I wanted to learn how to drive one. My guess could only be it was Daryl's constant bad influence on me. 

Being cooped up in a cell for a week made me realize how much I take for granted. I missed being outside in the sun, I missed having the wind whip me in the face, and I especially missed my family the most. I knew I hadn't taken the time to see all of them yet, but I knew I would eventually when the sun went down, all of us usually gathering around for dinner. My mind wandered to Sasha and Glenn, knowing that he was still recovering as he had a bit more trouble bouncing back. But Maggie was practically glued to his side so I knew he was just fine.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt Daryl begin to slow the bike down to a stop in the fairly open road, shutting it off briefly before turning back to look at me over his shoulder, "Alright, this ain't a toy. Ya gotta take this seriously."

I blinked, "Okay, dad."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "M' serious." 

"So am I." I smiled.

He huffed at my sarcastic state, before getting off the bike as I slid myself down to the driver's seat. He then hopped on the back as I glanced down at the handles, trying to get the feel of things before he started to instruct me. I grabbed the two of them hesitantly, knowing already which was the brake versus the clutch from what I've seen Daryl do in the past.

He placed his hands on top of mine and gave me a quick kiss on the side of my head before I felt him pause. I then glanced up in the rearview mirrors, seeing him looking at the back of my head in slight confusion.

"What?" I asked with a tilted head.

He pointed to the small purple clip I had my hair pinned back with, "Where did ya get this?"

I subconsciously touched the back of my hair, "Oh, Maggie gave it to me a few weeks ago. I thought I would pin my hair back today; you like it?" I asked.

He nodded his head, "Mhm, it's pretty." he approved, watching me smile as I turned my attention back towards the bike, hearing his voice become a little more nervous, "Mkay, start it up." he said hesitantly.

I paused momentarily as I tried to remember how, but quickly picked up on it as it roared to life, nodding to myself as I heard Daryl mutter good under his breath. "Alright, ya remember which one is the clutch?" he asked over the sound of the bike. I nodded my head and motioned towards it, "Good," he said again, "So, when ya wanna go, ya let go of the brake slowly and lift the clutch a little."

"Okay," I said to show that I understood, though he could quickly tell by the slight shake in my voice that I was nervous.

He kissed my head again, "It's okay, just trust yerself...and don't kill me."

"Yeah, that's helping." I spoke sarcastically.

He chuckled, "I'm kiddin, you'll do great. Just let go of the brake, lift the clutch a little." he repeated.

I took a breath and nodded before doing exactly what he told me to do. He removed his hands from mine and placed them around my waist to hold on while I slowly let go of the breaks to ease myself into it. The bike began moving pretty slowly, but it was moving. I smiled and got a little more confidence and sped up just the tiniest bit to try and slowly get more comfortable.

But whilst I was speeding up, I accidentally hit the clutch a little too hard and it sped up a lot faster than I wanted it to, and I could feel Daryl fly off of the back at the impact. I gasped in surprise and tried to get control of the bike to check and see if he was okay, but I couldn't turn around to look back without it turning the whole bike right along with me.

Though the seconds of panic didn't linger for very long as I could hear him laughing loudly from behind me, his heavy footsteps following shortly after to try and catch up with me. He hopped back on the second he was close enough while the bike was still going, placing his hands over mine again to get me to hit the brakes slowly to bring it to a stop. We were both laughing wildly as it finally came to a halt, causing me to turn around to glance at him with apologetic eyes.

"I'm so sorry." I breathed as I let out another laugh, covering my face in slight embarrassment.

He chuckled as he gently moved my hands to kiss my forehead, "Don't be sorry darlin, it was yer first time. Ya just gotta practice some more."

"Okay." I sighed, turning back around to try again.

It took some time, but eventually I was driving the bike at a normal speed and didn't kick Daryl off of it in the process. In just those few hours, I had laughed harder than I had in what felt like forever, and it felt good. He really brought out the best in me in ways that I wasn't able to describe.

I couldn't help but notice the way he was looking at me as I drove by on the bike by myself as he watched me from on the grass, with his arms folded over his chest and a proud smile on his lips. But I also didn't miss the lovesick look on his face every time I passed him, but I liked it, and I was pretty positive I looked at him the same damn way. I was glad we got to spend a few hours just enjoying each other's company, while we laughed at the few times I made an ass of myself in the process of learning how to operate the thing that he knew best.

Eventually we headed back to the prison and to my surprise, he let me drive back on my own. To him I was going painfully slow, but I wanted to be careful, cautious as if I would somehow knock him off all over again. 

Once we made it through the gates and up towards the prison, I hopped off first and saw that Daryl was about to follow my actions, but I stopped him. "Ah, wait." I said before holding my hand out for him to take.

He looked confused at first, but then seemed to realize what I was doing and rolled his eyes, taking my hand nonetheless. "I do that for a reason, so ya don't fall on yer ass." he said.

I smirked, "I thought I would be the gentleman for once. Plus I was the one driving, it's only fair."

He rolled his eyes again at my words, placing a kiss on the top of my head before we both turned to see Rick jogging over toward us with a small smile upon seeing our return.

"Hey, how was it?" he asked.

"Good. I didn't crash it." I responded while gesturing to the bike next to us dramatically.

He chuckled, "Good." he spoke with a nod, only turning more serious a second later, "I'm uh...I'm glad you came back when you did, I was actually going to ask your help for something."

Daryl narrowed his eyes a bit in concern, "What's wrong?" 

"I was on my way to tell Tyreese about Carol, but uh... I wanted to have some kind of backup. I don't think he'll freak out again, but just to be safe."

I could feel Daryl tense from next to me, "So, yer willin to put my girl at risk of gettin her ass beat, again? Nah, no way."

I turned to look him in the eye, "Hey, it's fine, I'll do it. Nothing's going to happen. Plus, Rick came by and apologized for everything, we're good." I reminded him.

"Yeah, he told me, but that don't mean I want ya in there." he said.

I shook my head at him, "I'll be fine."

He thought about it for a second, and then probably came to the realization that he couldn't stop me, nodding his head reluctantly in agreement. We then followed Rick, making our way through the prison to try and find Tyreese to break the news to him about who actually killed Karen and David. I didn't know how he would take it, but I hoped that since she was gone, he would be a little more relieved.

My mind went back to Daryl and how he was taking the loss of Carol. I knew that they were closer friends, and I could only imagine how hard it was to hear that she was gone. But he never seemed to mention it, to an outsider he didn't seem to be affected by it at all. Though I knew him better than that.

I gently nudged his side as we followed behind Rick, "How are you doing...about Carol?" I asked hesitantly, keeping my voice down.

He only shrugged, "Sucks...but I'll be alright." he said as he nudged my shoulder in return.

I nodded in understanding as I could see he didn't want to talk about it much. I knew he was hurt about what Rick did, I could see it in his eyes, but at the same time I knew he understood too. Otherwise he would be on his bike as we speak looking for her to come back.

The three of us made our way down to the tunnels now, Rick calling out into the space, "Tyreese! You down here?"

There was a moment of silence before he heard him call back, "Rick? That you?"

We all then followed the sound of his voice, seemingly at the same time he started to come out of the darkness. He was taken aback a little when his eyes landed on me, probably shocked that I was out of cellblock A as I hadn't seen him since he had taken me.

He smiled warmly, "Hey Rose...you feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah, Hershel finally let me go." I smiled.

He nodded, "Good," he said before looking back to the two men beside me, "Look you guys gotta see this." he said, pointing behind him.

"Can we take a beat? There's something we need to talk about." Rick said.

"It can wait, come on." he said urgently while heading back the way he came.

We all looked at each other cautiously before following the man back into the room where he came from. It was dark and the men had to raise their flashlights for us to see what he wanted to show us, but once my eyes landed on it, I couldn't help but let my mouth fall open a little. There was a dead rat up against the wall, with its insides spilling out of it.

I heard Daryl mutter, "The hell?" as he stepped closer to get a better look, shining his light over the bloody surface.

"I was just looking around, I needed...answers. Then I found this," Tyreese explained while pointing to the dead rat, "Same person who killed Karen and David did this. Remember the rats at the fence? They show up the same day she was killed, we got a psychopath living with us. We gotta find him Rick, and I'm not going to sleep until we do."

I almost wanted to laugh a little at Tyreese's detective skills, but I didn't. The rats had absolutely nothing to do with Karen and David and at this point I think he was just trying to find something, anything to lead him to who was responsible for killing them. None of us knew who was doing this with the rats, it was all too weird.

"Tyreese," Rick started calmly, "Whoever did this, I don't think that's who killed Karen."

Tyreese looked at him confused, "Why?" was all he could ask.

But before anyone could say another word, a large booming sound rang out from right outside the prison walls and the concrete around us crumbled a little at the impact. I jumped in surprise at the sudden explosive sound, growing confused and uneasy as my heart started to beat out of my chest. My eyes panned up to see Daryl who was already looking at me with the same panicked expression and I knew we both seemed to have the same sinking feeling.

"No..." I muttered.

~ Thanks for reading!

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