panagiotisparis

[baede-6]

Character ask game: Cayde-6 7, 22, & 26 For 26: Stick Cayde, Eris & the Drifter temporarily and accidentally locked in an elevator (pre Excision for continuity reasons). What happens?

*cracks knuckles*

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

❤️:I like a lot of the art that people make when it comes to Cayde (and Destiny in general).Some people are so,so talented.Drawings,cosplay,props,figures,blender renderings,what have you,I love it. The more love I see for one of my favorite characters,the better.Cayde deserves all of that love. I've also adored seeing New Lights get to meet Cayde for the first time in The Final Shape and fall in love with his character. It's something special.A whole new generation of Cayde fans.❤️

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

♠️:I'm honestly not as big of a fanfic reader as I used to be.Although,I do like it when people send me fanfics they've written,and I do read those (and if anyone ever wants to recommend fics,feel free and I'll take a look.❤️)

Something I like: 

❤️:In the few fanfics I have read involving Cayde,I like it when he gets to go on a quick adventure outside of the Tower,getting into some shenanigans and gets back in one piece. I also enjoy it if any of the Hunter gang are involved (or at least referenced) in said shenanigans,or if it makes me feel something,a good story should always make you feel something. Whether it makes you laugh or tugs on your heartstrings.

Some things I don't like:

-When people write Cayde where he uses slang like "rizz","babygirl","sigma"or "skibbity" casually in a sentence (yes, I've seen people write him like this,"babygirl" in the romantic sense?Maybe,but in the slang sense,no.I can't see him saying that.),if he were human (and not a centuries old Guardian 😅),I'm fairly certain based on his personality in the game, he'd be somewhere between his mid/late 30's-mid forties (Also basing this a little on both of his V.As who are currently in their 50's,but during most of Cayde's screentime throughout the games,they were in their 40's), he'd have no idea what those words meant.Even if he spent time around younger Guardians,it'd be like your dad using slang to sound cool and failing miserably at it,not to mention literally none of the characters talk like that in the game,which makes it even harder to imagine. (I personally couldn't take a character seriously, if they did.)

-When people write him like he wouldn't know what any real life current pop culture would be.Yes,Destiny takes place hundreds of years in the future,but he literally makes a reference to watching Firefly,a show that came out in 2002,and was cancelled after one season.(Also one of my favorite shows btw.😘)Cayde references it because his V.A is Nathan Fillion,who played the main character,Malcom Reynolds,on the show. It's an Easter egg,but it's still canon. He references it in idle dialogue in D1.

Here's a video I found, if anyone wants to hear him say it.

"Look, I'd love to stand here with you all day, but, um... *tut* I got a... a show I like to binge-watch... it was... cancelled early. Still love it."

So saying he wouldn't at least know what something more popular and super ingrained in our current culture, like Star Trek or Star Wars is, would be a little far fetched in my opinion. Not to mention the people at Bungie are a bunch of nerds and there are literally hundreds of pop culture references throughout the actual games. (This has nothing to do with Cayde,but just further proving my point,one of the ornaments for Malfeasance itself is a Firefly reference. "Aim to misbehave"? Yeah,that line is a direct reference to Firefly.I also kinda wanted an excuse to use one of my favorite gifs of Mal. 👀)

I also understand that not everyone is a massive kriffing nerd like I am,and the likelihood of that being common knowledge is slim,so I at least understand why some people might not know that,but it's just a preference of mine. (Also historically,in real life, we know a lot about events,customs,and trends from hundreds of years ago,so saying the same of the Destiny-verse,which takes place in the future, isn't a stretch. Even if all historical records were destroyed,there would still be word of mouth stories handed down through the centuries.)

Needless to say, people can write and interpret Cayde however they want,I couldn't give a cotton sock,I'm an adult and I'm just answering the question and giving my opinions and preferences.Take them with a grain of salt. 😄

You do you, kiddos. 👈👈😎

Nothing but love.❤️

Go wild, and have fun.😘

26. Freebie Question:

♠️:I know Cayde and Drifter have history, so they would probably be reminiscing the old days,throwing snark at each other,trying to come up with some crazy scheme to get out of the elevator (or y'know,all three at the same time)much to Eris' chagrin. Eris would probably suggest using some kind of magic to get out of the elevator (like how she's pulled the Guardian out of situations before). Any way you go about it,I think Cayde and Drifter would be driving Eris a little nuts. 😅

Thank you so much for the ask! ❤️♠️

If you read this far, you get a gold star sticker. ⭐

[fireflysymphony]

Aventurine w a fem! bodyguard reader smut... 👀

Aventurine x fem! bodyguard reader

MDNI 18+ content ahead

A/N: thank you for the request! I really like the concept. I wrote it as a mix of headcanons and a quick drabble at the end. I hope you enjoy it <3

Word count: 2.7k

Content warning: Fem! Reader, slight exhibitionism, pet names, fingering, teasing, praise, needy lovestruck Aventurine, slight degradation, slight begging (on his end), pretty soft sex, Aventurine’s daddy kink strikes again, I have a lack of gun knowledge but just roll with it, not proofread

Headcanons

Let me make this really clear: HE’S not the one who needs protection right now; it’s YOU.

The second he met you he was sizing you up with that cute little smirk of his, making it pretty obvious that all professionalism was lost the very moment he saw such a pretty number was working for him.

You should have run then.

What was the IPC thinking when they hired you for this? Is this some type of wrath from the Aeons? What did you do to deserve this punishment?

From the very beginning, he’s a pain to deal with, but you don’t have the authority to talk back, only giving him tight smiles and apologetic words. He knows this and takes full advantage of the situation.

“Y’know, princess, if you’re going to be with me all the time, shouldn’t I have a prettier view? I don’t like having to leave everything up to the imagination. Do you think red or blue is more your color? Ah~ I’ll buy both.” And you’re sitting there seething as he taps away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to your displeasure. Was he just joking? What was he doing?

The VERY next day you see Aventurine holding up not one but two skin tight dresses with fabric only hiding your more intimate areas. It was more like lingerie than a dress like something you’d see on a stripper.

He evidently wasn’t just teasing you.

As politely as you could, you told him it would hinder your fighting ability if anyone were to attack, so you absolutely couldn’t wear it. He made some futile comment about how he’d love to see you try so he could get a peek up your skirt to, you know, “negate the traumatizing experience of him being attacked.”

In the end, you won the argument, and Aventurine threw a tantrum, muttering something about giving them to a woman who’d actually appreciate a gift like that. You told him straight to his face that he should just give it to the many women he brought to bed each night then.

The surprised and hurt look on his face will forever be carved into your memory.

After that, he actively stopped calling you by his nicknames which, deep inside, you missed, or it might just be the guilt of seeing his usually inalterable flirtatious self turn into a sad kicked puppy of a man. You held onto your pride though and forced yourself to bite back any apology or reconsiderations of his request you may have had. The man should have known your job was on the line, and his insensitive acts of fickle flirtation could not sway you.

The very next day he was up to his usual antics, and you got the impression that he only seemed upset to try to guilt you. Asshole. It only made you more upset with him. Did he like playing with your emotions?

Did I mention he loves it when you say his name? Sometimes he’ll ignore your presence just to hear you say “Mr. Aventurine? Boss?! Sir, I’m talking to you.” In your signature annoyed tone. It makes his heart melt. The only thing he can think of is imagining how your little pants and sighs of his name sound while he’s on top of you. How would you sound if you weren’t constantly annoyed at him? If he brought you pleasure?

Honestly, he was whipped for you from day one, and his actions might sound annoying and overly flirtatious, but that’s just how he shows love.

I could tell you so many things that this man has done for your attention, but that’d probably be the length of the Holy Bible. There are so many places this could go, but I think this instance of his sticks out the most amongst many akin to it.

—

You were used to casinos at this point. The loud blaring sounds of people playing the slot machines and thick, suffocating smell of alcohol were background sensations at this point. You couldn’t even bother to give them a second thought, not when a gun was pointed at the man you were supposed to be protecting. Safe to say the poker game was ruined. Champagne soiled the cards, shards of glass from the glasses littered the floor and table, and Aventurine, stupid Aventurine, had his hands raised in the air, his signature smirk pointed at the assailant like his own brand of deadly weapon.

“Hey, hey, now. This isn’t the place to have one of those, is it? Look, you ruined the cards!” Adventurine laughed, making a circling motion with his hand as if trying to gesture to the table of cards which were now soaked a yellowish brown color. Your hand rested on your gun, ready to fire at any sign of him about to pull the trigger. “Can’t we talk this out? I’m sure with a little persuasion you be happy to hand over-“

Your pistol fired later than his. Shit.

All that registered in your mind was the crying of two men, and Aventurine hunched over with a pained expression as he gripped his stomach. You were trained for this, but in your state of panic, you ran to him instead of making sure the attacker was dead. You scooped him up, struggling to carry him with your gun pointed at the now surrounded shooter while retreating from the casino. You wished you could make sure he was dead, but attending to Aventurine’s injuries were your first priority.

“You idiot. I told you to stop provoking people and look where we are!” You scolded him, Aventurine now quiet and clinging to your shoulders. You were too panicked to question his unusual behavior after just being shot in the stomach. “..If you’re worried, you won’t die. I got you.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Princess.” He laughed, setting his chin on your shoulder. Sensing something was off, you turned down an alleyway and skidded to a stop. He wasn’t screaming in pain nor were his cheeks stained with tears, even the adrenaline wouldn’t keep him from crying out, right? “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on. No, I’m not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you dropped him to the ground before crouching down and lifting his shirt up. No wounds in sight.

“Getting rather intimate, aren’t we? You should give me the chance to do this to you.”

“Shut up! What did you do, Aventurine?!” You demanded, yanking his shirt back down before leaning back on your haunches. He looked satisfied with himself as he shuffled to lean against the alley wall. His hat and glasses were gone, probably from the scuffle. He’d have her go get them later.

“Uh-uh, remember who you’re talking to, beautiful.” He smiled, running his hand through his hair and covering his right eye, the other one illuminating his face well enough to be able to see his features in the darkness. “But since you haven’t figured it out, I simply hired someone to shoot me with a blank which, by the way, hurt like a bitch still. I might still need you to kiss my booboo.”

He saw you were about to open your mouth again and placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And before you ask: I replaced your bullets with blanks too, so you didn’t shoot an innocent man. I’m not that cruel.”

“You’re cruel to me.” You murmured, knocking his hand away from your face. He smiled and gave you a little shrug, just like a mischievous toddler who was proud when he colored on the walls. “You're impossible. I can’t believe I was actually worried for your life!”

“Worried? I make crazy bets all the time, princess. Gambling my life is no strange feat to me, you should know this.” He smiled again, this time actually touching your lips with the tip of his finger. Your lips parted, the fabric of his gloves sending you spinning. How soft were his actual fingers? What did they look like under those gloves? Were they long, slender, and delicate, or did they have some edge to them, all calloused and rugged? You imagined the former; Aventurine didn’t do much. “But, I have a pretty good hand right now. I bet you won’t stop me from playing it and showing you my cards.”

“But you’re gambling with my feelings too. That’s different. I don’t like being used.” You steadied yourself against the wall, trying to rid your mind of thoughts about his hands. Wait, when did he get so close? You were backed against the wall now, Aventurine caging you there with his lanky form.

“And I’ll make it up to you, just relax, babydoll. I just needed to be close to you. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He placed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand fit perfectly with her cheek as if their bodies were crafted for each other. You weren’t so sure, but the way you were feeling right now wasn’t professional.

“Let me take care of you instead for a chance.” He left featherlight kisses on your forehead, trailing down the side of your face. Each kiss grew longer than the last, his lips unable to pull away from you. He cupped both of your cheeks, his lips nearly touching yours as he spoke. “You aren’t pushing me away. I did all this for a moment alone with you, away from prying eyes. Now the IPC can’t punish you if you indulge a little. Please, pretty girl, let me have this. Let me have you.”

You shuddered from his warm breath on your mouth, months of his teasing and antics festering inside you. Defeat was so easy in this moment, the taste of another person’s lips a fleeting memory ever since you got this job. His constant advances would only get worse the more you rejected him. Aventurine always got what he was due. Always. Whatever it be you warming his bed one night or taking you in the back of an alleyway, he’d get it. Deep down, you loved being chased, but now the hunter finally cornered its prey.

“Not again. Never again after this, okay? One time so you make it fucking count.” You grabbed him by his shirt collar, smashing your lips against his, the taste of champagne filling your mouth. He knew what he was doing and held the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. Your actions caught him off guard though; he prepared for the crushing reality of you pushing him away, but you didn’t. Now he just needed to act like he knew you wouldn’t all along.

The softness of his lips lulled you into a daze, your hands aching from how tight you held onto him. Each time he pulled back for a breath, you didn’t give him much time to rest before your lips were on his again, asking for more which he provided with no hesitance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, taking the delicate flesh between his teeth and playing with it before letting his tongue mold into yours.

“Someone’s a little needy. I could tell by the way you act that you’re pent up, but this is bad.” He fully pulled away with his face flushed, binding your wrists together and holding them above your head with one hand. He left open mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Not bothering to waste anymore time, he used his teeth to free your chest from the buttons of your blouse. “Fucking me in an alleyway like this? You must have wanted me from the beginning. Please say you’ve always wanted me, pretty girl. Please… please… fromday one, I’ve always needed you…”

He pulled down your bra with his teeth, kissing and sucking at your breasts with a hunger similar to that of a starving man. His tongue flicked over your delicate buds, moaning at the feeling of your warmth in his mouth. You were starting to think he was right. He acted like he really did need you. As you saw him buried in your chest, eyes filled with lust and desire, all your second thoughts faded to dust.

“Mr. Aventurine…” You tugged on his hair, blond locks soft as the finest silk. Of course he was soft and so delicate; he felt like he could break with one wrong move from you. How was he so torturous and annoying yet the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Aventurine’s heart stopped at the sound of your whiny cry of his name. The sound he’s been craving was more beautiful than he could have ever thought.

“I got you, my princess. You’re so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous.” He held up his free hand to his lips, biting at the fabric a few times before getting a hold of the glove and slowly pulling it off. He kept eye contact with you as he did, giving you the impression he was trying to be seductive about it. Before you could say anything about it though, he was already back to your body, hands roaming down to the waistband of your pants.

Within moments, your pants and undergarments were bunched at your knees, and Aventurine got straight to abusing your clit, your already slick folds acting as the perfect lube. “You’re so wet for me. What a naughty, naughty girl you are. So bad, you couldn't hold back that professional facade for long. Were your panties always dripping when you got home? Did you touch yourself and think about me doing this? What a fucking slut.”

He chuckled and collected the slick before shoving a single finger into you, letting out a louder moan than you. He loved the way you felt around him, how tight you were squeezing just one finger. “Fuck… so tight. Can you even take another?” He managed to get another finger into you, stretching you out as he twisted deeper inside of you. He worked at a slow pace while also kissing your neck and chest, selfishly leaving marks in his wake. Eventually, he sped up, losing himself as he pounded into you with another finger.

Your body convulsed, hiccuping in pleasure. “Fuck! Fuck! S-sir-! Shit, I’m gonna- gonna...” You leaned your head on his shoulder, biting down hard to silence your moans and other noises. What had been but five minutes, and you were already falling apart.

“So fast and easy. Cum then, you fucking whore, cum all over daddy’s fingers.” He demanded, slamming his fingers deeper inside of you. You threw your head back, crying out profanities you hope nobody passing by heard. Your walls clenched around him, a wave of pleasure crashing through your body as you coated his fingers in your pleasure.

“There you go, just like that. You feel so good squeezing my fingers like that, good girl.” He pulled out of you after helping you come down from your high, his long, slender fingers covered in your release. He didn’t waste any time in getting rid of the evidence, moaning at your taste as he licked himself clean. “So good, I love you…”

He hoped you didn’t hear that last part, biting his lip to silence the words he just spoke. Thankfully, you looked too dazed to care. If you brought it up later, he’d tease you until you didn’t think it happened.

He let go of your wrists and embraced you, cradling your head against his chest and letting you put yourself back together. He kissed your forehead, mumbling any praises he could think of in your ear. He wanted to savor this moment because in a few minutes, he knew he’d be pushed away again. No matter how good he made you feel; you’d make it clear to him that you’d never fall for one of his traps again. That’s just the woman you were, and he didn’t make bets he knew he couldn’t win.

A/N: this kinda got out of hand, and Aventurine bangs his bodyguard turned into Aventurine becomes a menace (again). If anyone likes this, I’d be happy to make a part two with more detail on how they got together. I apologize to the requester if this isn’t what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoyed it! <3

Requests are open!

[paperbackribs]

update: 🐺werewolf Steve, 🦇bat Eddie completed on Ao3 here

How to survive a werewolf attack, Eddie mentally repeats to himself in a determinedly bright manner, channelling every nature documentary he’s ignored. His resolve does little to quiet the jolt of fear that had run through him as it turned into— that.

“How to survive a werewolf attack,” Eddie mutters to himself as it pads one giant paw towards him in the middle of Steve’s living room, hoping that speaking aloud will clear the bees buzzing in his brain, focusing all his thoughts in one direction: he should run.

“How the fuck do I survive a werewolf attack?” Eddie frantically yells at Dustin standing by the couch, grinning a gummy smile back at him with his hands casually thrown in his pockets.

The wolf growls lightly at his tone and Eddie’s head snaps back, alarmed that he’d allowed himself to look away from those intent yellow eyes for even a moment. But as scary as the predatory look is, the size of its head is just as terrifying. As large as Eddie’s torso with a wide, fanged mouth to match. Faintly, Eddie mentally compares one long tooth to the length of his hand.

This is how he dies Eddie realises with a thumping heart.

Not the bats.

Not Vecna.

No, a giant, golden mahogany werewolf nearly as tall as his fully grown adult body is going to open that massive mouth and swallow him down whole.

The beast stops, gaze narrowing to the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty blood slash fresh meat vibe he must be giving off. It sits back on its heels; a movement Eddie feels shudder through the carpet at his feet and turns its head to Robin with a slight whine.

She scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush at its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby.” Shifting her fingers to scratch under its ears, the werewolf—Steve, Eddie hastily corrects himself as Robin continues to glare at him—half-closes its eyes in bliss. Though, he notes that it—he—still keeps his gaze steadily trained on Eddie.

Swallowing, Eddie tries to remember what they had just been talking about, but it’s lost in the chaotic whirlwind of his thoughts and the adrenalin urging his heels back. All of it consumed by the conviction that Eddie is prey in front of predator and about to be fed to what used to be Steve Harrington.

“Oh my god,” he moans, hands coming up to pull his hair down to hide behind, “Am I a sacrifice?”

Lucas sighs in exasperation, “I told you we should’ve showed him photos or something first.” Max makes a derisive sound and sits cross-legged next to Steve’s wide chest; he gently leans against her with a small thump of his tail. “He was always going to freak out, may as well get it over with.”

Eddie would really like to get the small child away from the massive beast right now; despite the fact that Max is a sophomore and would likely rip him a new one at even the suggestion. But it does help, seeing her casually play with the fur under her hand, and the bees die down a little, just enough to remember why they had called him here.

“You wanted to show me this—” Max squints at him and Eddie changes tack “—show me Steve turning into a wolf because you’re concerned about me.” The ridiculousness of it strikes through him, bubbling over into half-hysterical laughter. “Shouldn’t you be worried about the massive fucking fangs near Max’s head right now.”

The wolf lets out a gusty sound that Eddie can only imagine is a sigh and thumps onto his belly, stretching his head out to rest on crossed-over paws as big as dinner plates. The position should look less threatening, but all Eddie can see is how the jaw of the creature has been thrown into sharp relief, emphasising how far it could probably unhinge if given an incentive. He slaps his hand back over his pulsing neck again.

El appears by his side and he nearly jumps a foot, not having noticed her approach while focusing so fiercely on the wolf. She takes his hand, gently saying, “It is okay, Eddie. He’s only Steve and he would never hurt you.”

He keeps a hold of her hand. The Steve he’s come to know since Spring Break has seemed like a pretty good dude, sure; but, the one thing he does know, is that the guy would take a bullet for every kid in this room.

It's not cowardice to hide behind a kid, he reassures himself. Not when the kid isn’t in any danger. Max shoots him a dark look again and he suspects that she’s seen through his intentions. He clears his throat, focussing on El’s kind and reassuring squeeze of his hand, “Right. Why is Steve a werewolf?”

“Good question,” the bill of Dustin’s hat bobs in his approval, “Back in ’84 we were in these tunnels, you see and —”

“Short version, Dustin,” Robin interrupts, which is frankly ironic of her Eddie thinks, knowing she falls into extended explanations herself.

Dustin screws up his face, but condenses the story, “We were attacked by dog versions of the demogorgons and since then Steve has gone all furry whenever he wants.” He waves a hand at the prostrate wolf who continues to placidly watch their conversation, “I see where you went with werewolf but technically, he’s not forced to turn at a full moon.”

Will exchanges a look with Mike as they lean against the opposite wall, “Not technically, no. But he does get weird around it.” El tugs him to sit down with her and Max, but Eddie lets go of her hand, unwilling to let cede the high ground when it’s the only thing keeping his feet ready to run if Steve decides to demonstrate how weird he can get.

“Shouldn’t he have…” Eddie waves a hand over his face with a splaying motion of his fingers. He hasn’t seen a demogorgon yet, but the kids had described them to him, and the demo-bats apparently had the same set-up of gaping maws exploding like a fanged cross over their face.

“Another great question, Eddie,” Max rolls her eyes, “Let me just consult my instruction manual on the Upside Down and get back to you.”

“It’s a fair question, Max,” Lucas says softly and she relents, “Yeah, but he looks like he’s about to throw up and Steve would hate the mess.” The wolf snorts and nudges her with his muzzle; she lightly strokes the top of his nose with a responding smile.

“Our best guess is that the demo-dogs and demo-bats are a weird mix of actual animal and Upside Down creepiness,” Robin says, letting go of Steve to sit on the couch behind him, “And Steve got infected with the actual animal part but the woo-woo creepiness is what helps him turn into the wolf.”

Eddie’s guts turn to liquid, and he hovers suddenly uncertain hands over his body; right beside the areas still scarred from his own demo-bat bites. “Wait a second,” he rasps, “Steve got bit by the dog version and he turns into this. So if I got bit by the bat versions…”

“That’s why we’re telling you,” Lucas explains frankly, “It didn’t happen straight away with Steve so we thought that you should have a heads up at the very least.” Dustin gestures down Eddie’s body with a demanding hand, “And you can tell us if you notice any weird changes.”

“What?” Eddie asks a little wildly, “Like if my voice drops and I get hair in new and wonderful places?” Robin and Dustin exchange worried glances and the latter falls back on a soothing tone that he hasn’t managed since cornering Eddie in the boathouse while he was on the run, “There’s no guarantee that you were infected…” Robin winces at the word choice as Eddie’s eyes widen. “…but you should tell us if you notice anything different, just in case.”

Eddie wants to collapse onto the floor. Just crouch there with his hands pressed comfortingly against his eyes to shut out the insanity this afternoon has turned into. But eyeing how close Steve with his monster fangs is, Eddie refuses to get any closer. He may as well lay on his back and strip for good measure. That way Steve won’t get any denim stuck in his teeth; he thinks the last thought with a small hiccup.

The massive head raises and turns to look over its—his—shoulder with a questioning whine. Robin’s faces hardens slightly, and her arms come up to cross over her chest. “You go for a run or something, I’ve got this.”

Eddie watches those tree trunks for legs rise and feels something quake inside, doing nothing for his pounding pulse that had only just started to subside. Steve looks back at him one more time before licking Dustin’s hand and butting his head against Robin’s knee to trot through the living room towards the backyard.

Chapter 1

[azrielbrainrot]

Your Name Is a Sin I Breathe Like Oxygen

Pairing: Demon!Rhysand x Angel!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Corruption

Description: Rhysand won't rest until he's brought his angel down to hell with him.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, hand job, things that shouldn't be happening in a church, this is definitely sacrilegious, slight dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk

Word Count: 3,5k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story kept getting longer and longer, i don't know what happened, but I could actually write a part 2 eventually if anyone wants. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

It's not often you find yourself walking alone. If you put aside the apprehension you were feeling you could admit that it was a beautiful night, and that walking through the field with only the faint sound of the wind and faraway crickets felt incredibly relaxing. Unfortunately, the reason behind this walk was anything but relaxing, in fact it was about to change your life forever.

An abandoned church comes into view, the fact that no believers lingered within should have been enough for you to turn back, but you find yourself walking towards it instead. The overgrown weeds and flowers obscured the path, one no one had used in decades - no one except for him, and now you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you walk closer, the undeniably dark energy coming from inside could only mean one thing. It makes you pause in your steps, walking to him would be giving in, you knew better than anyone, but walking away brought a weight to your chest you didn't think you could survive, didn't think you would want to.

And so you step inside, one foot in front of the other, leading you deeper into sin, straight to your downfall.

The inside of the church was barren, almost every object having been sold or destroyed by humans. Had he brought you here to show you how ungrateful and destructive humans could be? It certainly wasn't anything new to you.

The demon stood at the altar, back turned to you as he studied the way the weeds had traveled up the walls, obscuring any remaining holy images. The black clothes he wore were the complete contrast to your long white dress. The suit pants fit him perfectly, tailored to his body, and the shirt seemed to be made of a soft almost translucent material, showcasing the muscles hiding under it. There was no doubt in your mind that he had led numerous souls to perdition.

You knew he could feel your presence, probably ever since you set foot on this field. At first you almost feel thankful that he was choosing to ignore you and let you make your own decision with no rush, but it soon turned into annoyance when you realized he's forcing you to accept that you came here of your own choice, so you can't try to blame him. It shouldn't surprise you that he's not going easy on you, he never has.

“Rhysand,” you call out his name when it's obvious he won't be the one to acknowledge you first.

Your voice trembles despite your best efforts, and even though you've grown accustomed to seeing him, - more than you ever should have, - a chill still runs down your spine when he turns slowly and his striking violet eyes fall on you, heart racing in your chest as his smirk grows.

“I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, my sweet angel,” he says with a hint of pride.

His voice sends goosebumps over your skin, unfortunately you can't even bring yourself to try and justify them as a result of solely fear, there's something else blooming in the pit of your stomach, and growing heavier on your chest.

Rhysand walks to you, every instinct telling you to turn back and run, but you don't, you stay in place, watching him take every step with damning anticipation.

“Are you finally ready to stop playing these fruitless games?”

A glare passes through your eyes, but you hold your tongue. What he calls games was your duty to God and the remaining angels, to the good in the world, one you had failed completely by even breathing near him, let alone the lengthy talks you've had. Still, you couldn't deny that you had been grasping at it far longer than you should have.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had fallen the first time you saw him and let him tease you to no end without ever reaching for your sword, when you saw an injured demon and decided to help him instead of finishing the job, you lost the moment you allowed him to ever put a smile on your face, and a need you couldn't even begin to explain inside you.

He raises a hand slowly, tentatively reaching for your face, half expecting you to push him away like you had done every other time. When you still don't move, only looking into his eyes, not even sure what you were searching for, he lets out a breath, smirk broadening on his face, putting his sharp canines on display. He had already won, you both knew it.

“Not running from me this time?”

His hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your skin softly, much too innocently for the look playing in his eyes and the dark energy emitting off him in thick waves. When the pad of his thumb runs over your bottom lip, playing with the plump flesh, and you still don't move, a sound suspiciously close to a moan escapes him.

“Gonna let me do anything I want to you?” He leans closer, breath hitting your skin, and you can't help but close your eyes, nails sinking into the palms of your hands, balling your fists as hard as you could. It was too much, he was too much.

A tremble runs through your form, that calm and collected front you put up crumbling with every second. You nod, eyes still closed and heart racing when you feel his lips fall on yours, delicately, so unlike him. This isn't something you ever remember doing, if you had at all, the memories of your human life had long since been erased, but your lips move against his as if kissing him came naturally to you.

When he pulls away, far too soon for your liking, you open your eyes on instinct, fear rearing its head as you watch him. The glamor he wore in the human world had been dropped, revealing sharp canine teeth and slits running through his beautiful violet irises. The marks etched onto his chest were unknown to you, but you recognized them as some sort of demonic spell.

His hand was wrapped around your neck, having moved there while he kissed you, except now it was covered in black up to his wrist, the pigment visible in lines as it ran through his veins up his arm. And his wings, you're surprised they hadn't been the first thing you noticed. They stood tall behind him, dark crimson bat-like wings, easily twice the size of your white feathered ones. You can't help, but pull your own in closer to your body at the sight.

Rhysand looked positively wicked, downright sinful, as he studied you intensely, eyes running through every inch of exposed skin with a knowing look shining in the violet. This was the face of a predator watching its prey, except he had no plans of killing you, and that excited you far too much for your own good.

“Need you to answer me, angel,” he purrs, holding onto your chin when you go to nod once again, “Use your words.”

Your eyes widen slightly, swallowing down the nerves before finally finding your voice, and whatever courage or stupidity you had left, “I won't run. Not from you.”

A moan escapes him, a pleased sound coming from deep in his chest, and he kisses you again, a lot more passionately than before, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you struggle to keep up. His hands roam over your body, sending a flurry of butterflies flying inside your stomach, pulling you closer into him, humming into the kiss when you finally manage to move, your hands reaching for his chest tentatively, falling over his overheated skin.

A noise behind him almost pulls your attention away, but he quickly steals it back when he starts kissing down your neck, biting softly onto the unmarred skin, marking it with his teeth, a demon was marking you as his own, and God helped you, you were moaning in pleasure as he did.

It's only when he starts walking backwards, a firm arm wrapped around your waist pulling you along with him and sits down, that you notice the sound you heard earlier was a chair being magically pushed to the center of the altar. Your body wants to follow him, wanting to keep his mouth on your neck, or bring it back to yours, but his hands fall on your hips, stopping you, keeping you on your feet, standing between his legs as he looks up at you with a smirk, one that keeps growing as he takes note of your heavy lidded eyes and soft pants escaping your agape mouth, the crease between your brows.

“I'll keep kissing you in a moment,” he assures, your treacherous body relaxing under his grip. He chuckles at this, you were certainly making this a lot easier for him than he imagined.

“Wanna take your dress off for me first?”

This makes you tense up once more, almost taking a step back if it weren't for his hold on you. He lets out an understanding hum, though it comes out tainted with a hint of condescension.

“I know they like keeping you innocent and pure up there, but if you want to keep going you'll have to let go of all of that.” He tilts his head, catching your gaze. “I can't fuck you properly with your clothes on.”

It's obvious you couldn't keep the embarrassment over his choice of words out of your expression when he laughs, leaning forward and hiding his face on your stomach, only worsening the already accelerated rhythm of your heart.

“I'm not sure how I feel about you using me for your own amusement,” you did your best to keep your voice from trembling, grasping for some sense of control over the situation.

“You know exactly how it makes you feel,” he murmurs against the fabric of your dress, kissing over your navel before leaning back against the chair, both of his hands falling from your body, and immediately you miss his warmth on you.

Rhysand doesn't say anything else, but he didn't need to, his eyes said it all as he watched you, he wouldn't repeat himself. You find yourself looking up behind him, where familiar statues should be if this were a working church. Could they see you now?

“Eyes on me,” the demon orders. Your gaze meets his immediately, a hint of fear running through your body. “The only people in the world that matter right now are you and me.”

He was wrong. Your actions would cause a lot of trouble and it wouldn't be only for you. The same way his triumph over you wouldn't affect only him. This moment would be recorded in history for both of your worlds, but you had already made your choice, you were more than aware that it was the wrong one as well, and so you reach for the buttons on your dress, undoing them with shaky hands, eyes never straying from his this time, not even when you let the dress drop at your feet, revealing your untainted skin to his hungry eyes.

It feels like the world stopped spinning when his eyes moved from yours and traveled down your body, taking note of every inch appreciatively. Fighting the urge to cover yourself was harder than you imagined it would be, and for some reason the urge to touch him and strip him of his own clothes was even stronger.

“Get on your knees.”

“What?”

The desire in his eyes only grows when he senses your hesitation. He wanted you to fall kneeling down at the altar, the same way you had ascended.

Rhysand sits up again, reaching for your hand and bringing two of your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and swirling his tongue around. You can't help but let out a gasp, your thighs pressing together, eyes transfixed on his mouth.

He pulls them out and kisses your palm innocently, unable to hide the grin on his lips. “ I want you to suck my cock, angel,” he clarifies, as if you didn't know what he meant, as if that wasn't the reason you were holding back.

“I've never-” You swallow, not wanting to avert your gaze and be warned against it again, but finding it incredibly difficult to keep looking into those sinful violet eyes of his. “I don't know how.”

“I'll teach you.”

He made it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world, that he wasn't talking about something that would condemn you to eternal damnation at his side, but you knew what you wanted to do, knew what you were going to do, and so you drop to your knees in front of the demon, looking up at him like he was your God.

You can almost feel the light getting sucked out of you, disappearing in the midst of his darkness. It almost makes you wonder how you ended up like this, if fate had already seen this end for you, if it would have still happened if you hadn't met him. The thought makes your heart feel tight for some reason.

His hand grabs your neck unexpectedly, pulling you up so he could kiss you once again, easing your nerves somewhat, everything else disappearing when his mouth fell over yours. When he pulls away you find yourself chasing after him, and he simply chuckles and gives you one more kiss, pulling away for good with a playful lick over your lips, leaning back against the chair like a king on his throne.

“You need to take my cock out to start,” he says after a while with a hint of amusement. You didn't know why you thought he would make this any easier. Shaky hands fall over his pants, slowly unbuttoning them, trying your best to ignore the beating of your heart and most of all the hardness visible through the fabric. Rhysand seemed to enjoy every second of it, you could almost hear him purring in delight.

With a deep breath you push his underwear down, revealing him to your terrified but curious eyes, gasping softly when his cock springs free, falling against his stomach. Biting your lip, your hand moved to grab him, not knowing what else to do, you squeeze him harder, a tingling feeling rushing over your stomach when he rewards you with a moan, startled eyes finding his.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you find him already watching you, he hadn't taken his eyes off you ever since you first arrived after all, but it almost makes you feel like you were caught doing something you were not supposed to.

“Maybe you're a natural.”

“I-”

“I know, angel,” he assures, voice deepened by something you couldn't quite put your finger on, his hand coming down to cup your head, bringing you in closer, a sigh escaping him when you offer no resistance. “I'll show you.”

Rhysand surprises you one more time when he leans up and lets his spit drop over the head of his cock, his hand spreading it down to the base and falling over yours, guiding your hand up and down his length, tightening your hold on him.

“I'll let you start slow,” he says with a teasing grin in between moans, “so you can't say I'm not considerate.”

You roll your eyes lightly, too focused on the task at hand and your every instinct screaming at you, to tamper it down. He chuckles and lets go of your hand, letting you take over, entranced by the way your fist barely fits around him and every noise that escapes him.

“As good as this feels, I know your mouth will feel a lot better.”

Right. You knew that's what he wanted, but while this is manageable, just the thought of going further makes you freeze.

“I shouldn't be doing this,” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“No, you shouldn't,” he murmurs, looking down at you with an evil twinkle in his eyes, “but that doesn't matter anymore.”

You couldn't turn back the clock, and even if you begged on your knees and repented for thousands of years you wouldn't be allowed back into heaven, not after letting things get this far. You've passed the point of no return, there was nothing stopping you from letting yourself get consumed by sin, by him.

He notices the change in your eyes, but says nothing, his hand moving back to your head instead, helping guide your movements just like he had promised he would earlier, still keeping his touch light in case you wanted to move back.

“Lick me from base to tip, fuck just like that. Keep your eyes on me.” You do your best to let your body follow his commands without thinking, focusing on the sounds he makes, finding power in knowing you're the reason behind them. “Now suck over the head, swirl your tongue around like I did with your fingers.”

It's hard to know what to expect when you never thought you'd be doing something like this in the first place, but you certainly didn't realize how enjoyable it could be for you. The choked moan he lets out when you suck on the head again without him instructing you to, gathering the liquid leaking from his tip with your tongue brings you more pleasure than anything ever has before.

“Try taking as much into your mouth as you can.” The way his voice is getting breathier motivates you to do better, wanting to make him feel even a bit of the way you did every time he's around. “Just be careful with your teeth and relax your throat, you're doing so good for me.”

He helped you with his grip on your head, pushing himself inside your mouth slowly, pausing for a moment every time you gagged. It was hard to hold his gaze, not only from embarrassment but also from the tears gathering in your eyes, but you did, God you did every little thing he told you to and more, reveling in his reactions.

“What a good little angel.”

This makes you glare up at him, teeth scraping along his skin as a warning, of course he only laughs in response, thumbing at your cheek, entranced by the way his sweet little angel sucks his cock, a little fire in her eyes, just the way he likes it.

A shudder runs through him, and you suspect you know exactly what it means. Fitting all of him inside your mouth would be impossible, it feels surreal that you even made it this far, so you start pumping your hand over the rest of his length in sync with the way your mouth moves over him, having to stop yourself from smiling when it draws out even louder moans from him, his hand tugging at your hair harder, losing himself - it wasn't even close to how far you drifted from your now former self, but it was a start, a small victory of your own even if you won it amidst your defeat.

Even if it happened because of your efforts, you're still surprised when he spills inside your mouth, hips lifting off the chair to thrust in a couple of times as he lets out sick praises and mumbles of your name. When he pulls out of you, the strain in your jaw catches up to you, and you can't help but cough when you take in too much air.

You swallowed everything on instinct, not truly knowing what else to do, but it seemed to please him as he caressed your face, making an even bigger mess of it, with a triumphant look in his eyes. This is what he had always wanted, to see you broken at his feet, completely at his mercy.

“What now?”

You were almost scared to ask, afraid he would throw you away now that he's gotten what he wanted. Your voice came out scratchy, a slow ache forming in your abused throat, a reminder of what you had done.

The demon looked confused for a moment, his smile faltering slightly and a crease forming between his brows, almost as if he didn't understand your defeated expression. You had never asked but judging from his body, he had been born a demon so he would never know what it was like to be an angel, and fall in such a shameful way.

He blows air through his nose and looks up for a moment, amusement settling over his face. Grabbing you by your underarms, he lifts you up onto his lap before you even have a chance to react, hands falling over his chest.

“Now I'm going to take you to your new home, my little demon,” he whispers, leaning closer and brushing his lips against yours playfully, unable to hide the chuckle when your eyes widen further at the new pet name, “and I'm going to help you with that little problem between your legs, show you pleasure you never thought possible.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

illicit affairs | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Two attempts are always better than one, right? If you're serious about getting pregnant then you can't just hope that Joel can manage to do it by trying once every month. It might be wrong, but seeing him camped out on the couch gives you the perfect excuse to try one more time this month, without distractions.

Warnings | Joel Miller being a fucking stud as always, breeding kink, size kink, dubious moral choices by both reader and Joel, Tommy getting cucked (as usual), dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex,

Word Count | 2.7k

Authors Note | Well..... this certainly isn't how I anticipated this series going, but it makes sense, right? Can't just fuck once a month and expect to make a baby. I am absolutely feral for how much you guys are enjoying this series that wasn't meant to be a series and I hope you continue to do so in the future. And also, don't worry, Tommy is back next time in full force, I promise! If you've not read parts one and two, you can find them linked below on the series masterlist - this probably won't make much sense otherwise.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Joel wakes the next morning, crick in his neck and lower back screaming at him for a night scrunched up on his brother’s couch, it’s the smell of bacon and the sizzling sound of something cooking in oil that hits him first. He pushes himself up slowly, running a hand over his face before his eyes search for the wall clock. It’s just after seven, he doesn’t have to pick Sarah up for another few hours. 

The next thing that strikes him is your voice. It’s quiet, like you’re trying not to wake him up, but you’re singing, or rather humming along to some song on the radio. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t care to find out, he just sits and listens for a while, letting the sweet sound almost lull him back to sleep. 

When Joel hears the clatter of plates being moved around, he stands, stretching out his back until it cracks in several places. God, he’s getting old. He slowly and softly makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you. You’re moving scrambled eggs around in the pan on the hob, two plates on the side that already have slices of bacon on them, and he can see slices of bread sat in the toaster waiting to be made. It’s domestic and he realizes he really shouldn’t like seeing it as much as he does. He shouldn’t be here, this should be his brother, but he doesn’t exactly hate it. 

“You didn’t have t’make me breakfast.” He speaks, you don’t jump which makes him think you knew he was there all along. 

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch all night,” You counter, looking at him over your shoulder, “I guess we wore each other out, only right I send you off with a hearty breakfast.” 

Joel doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he walks deeper into the kitchen. He’s driven by the fact that all you’re wearing is a large flannel shirt, obviously not one of your own, buttoned up over some underwear. You’re fucking magnetic to him, he knows you shouldn’t be, should be as far out of his reach as possible, but he’s only doing you a favour right? The more he repeats it to himself, the more he might believe it. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as his hands play with them hem of the shirt, although your voice is teasing, it doesn’t warn him to stop, almost dares him to go further. 

Joel hears you chuckle as his hands palm your ass, “You gonna tell me to stop, pretty girl?” 

“You’re trying to get me pregnant, are you not?” You ask, shifting the pan with the eggs off the heat. 

“That I am,” Joel is now pressed firmly against your back, hands wandering underneath the shirt to rest on your hips, “But you gotta tell me if you want me to stop, just me and you this mornin’, sweetheart.” 

“I’m still good to go,” You murmur, moving your ass into him, feeling his already growing erection in his jeans, “So, give me what I want, stud.” 

He doesn’t need telling twice. Never does. He lets his big palm sink beneath the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping almost immediately through your folds to sink down to where you’re already soaked. He knows some of that has to be him from last night, but as he drags his fingers up, covered in slick to your clit, hearing how you’re already moaning his name, he knows it’s not all him, this is your slick, mixed with him, and it drives him wild. Drives him wild that he’s marked you like this, that you’re just walking around with a piece of him inside of you. 

He's almost shocked by how quickly he brings you to the edge with his fingers this morning. Clearly, you’re still sensitive from the four orgasms he gave you the night before, something that still makes his chest puff, his male ego boosted that he went one better than Tommy for you. 

“Still all sensitive for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He leans down to whisper into your ear as his name falls a mile a minute from your mouth, “Gonna come for me?” 

“Fuck – Joel – ohmygod,” He can feel your legs starting to shake, he makes sure the arm he’s got pressed to your lower belly keeps you upright, pressed against him, “Don’t you dare stop.” 

“Didn’t plan on it.” He chuckles, letting his tongue lick hot stripes to you ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth and nibbles. 

He feels your legs buckle, but that palm manages to keep you upright as you come for him. The way his name sounds in your high-pitched squeal when you let go for him has his cock throbbing in his jeans. If he was any younger, he could almost guarantee this alone would have him spilling himself into his jeans already. 

He lets you catch your breath for a moment as he undoes his jeans, stepping out of them and his underwear, though he leaves his shirt on. He has to be inside you right now or he thinks he might pass out. He drags your own underwear down your legs, kicking them to the side once you’ve stepped out of them, before he’s literally slamming his cock into you with full force. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” You keen, “Fuck, you’re so big inside me.” 

“I know babygirl, I know,” He stills for a moment, letting himself get used to the way your pussy is clenching him, literally pulling him in deeper, “A lot, ain’t it?” 

You let out a sigh as Joel pulls himself out before slamming back into you, “I can take it,” You whine, pushing back to meet his thrusts halfway, “Fuck me harder, Joel.” 

He brings a hand up to fist your hair, pulling your head back so you’re arching into him, “Careful what you wish for,” He moans, “Beggin’ me to go harder, filthy girl.” 

Joel can’t quite believe how good this feels. He thought, when he slid his cock into you from behind that he might feel guilty – bending his brother’s girlfriend over the stove without him knowing anything about it – but the way he’s got his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back so you arch perfectly for him, his hips snapping into your ass in a way that has his vision blurring, he can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe that makes him a piece of shit, but you asked for this just as much as he wanted to give it to you. 

He uses the hand tight in the strands of your hair to pull your face to the side. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he can’t stop himself from asking for it any longer, “Kiss me, pretty girl,” He growls, pulling your mouth to within a hair’s breadth of his own, “Give me that last piece of you, I know you want to.” 

He can see you hesitate. Can sense the flicker of doubt across your face. He won’t force this, but fucking hell does he want it. Wants to feel those pretty lips on his own, wants to know exactly what your mouth tastes like. He grips your hip with his free hand, fingers digging into the skin, sure enough likely to leave bruises there, as he continues his pounding into you. 

All of a sudden, you turn your head fully, your own free hand coming up to tangle in the curls on his head pulling his mouth to yours. The angle makes it messy, more of an open-mouthed mash up of tongues that anything else, but it fucking lights Joel on fire. He pulls away and slips his cock from your tight heat, turning you around so your back is to the stove. He pulls your naked body to his own and attaches his mouth back to yours like his life depended on it. 

He can feel his cock slipping between your slick folds as he focuses his attention on his mouth attached to yours. It’s depraved, the way his tongue melds with your own, licking into your mouth like he’s a man starved. Which he technically is, he can’t remember the last time he kissed a woman, let alone one as perfect as you. 

When he pulls away from you, hands on your ass to lift you up so he can carry you to the kitchen island and sit you on top, he focuses on the string of saliva that attaches your mouth to his. He pulls away just enough that it breaks, settling on the hair on his chin. He almost busts his nut all over your lower belly when you lean across and lick it from his face, grin plastered on your mouth like you know exactly what you’ve just done to him. 

You reach down between the two of you, gripping Joel’s cock in your hand, guiding it back to your spread cunt, “I think you better put this back inside me, huh?” You whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Think you might be about to come, am I right Joel?” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He curses, head to the ceiling, “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, pretty girl,” He takes his cock from your grip, sliding it slowly back into your slick pussy, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure as he does, “How many babies you want?” He asks, royally pushing his fucking luck now, “Tell me you want more than one, tell me I get to come inside your pretty pussy forever.” 

“You’ll have to ask your brother.” You and your smart fucking mouth, Joel thinks, looking down between the two of you where he’s splitting you open, watching as his thick cock slides effortlessly into your cunt, like you were made for him. 

“Didn’t have to ask him this morning,” Joel growls at you, hand resting at the base of your throat, “This was all you, babygirl.” 

He doesn’t think before he takes hold of the material of the shirt you’re wearing and yanks it open, buttons flying all over the kitchen surface. Joel lets it gape open, those big hands of his gripping the soft skin of your waist as he starts pounding into you again. He leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, soothing it with the pad of his tongue, before he switches to the other side. 

“Such pretty tits, baby,” He groans, moving his lips up to kiss across your neck, “Even prettier when I put this baby inside you.” 

His cock is brutal inside you. He can see the start of the discomfort on your face, still sore and stretched from last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he can hold on much longer, not when he looks down at the sight of you, spread out, dripping slick onto the countertop, legs spread as far as humanely possible, tits bouncing with every hard punch of his cock inside you. 

“Want me to fill you up, babygirl?” He asks, leaning down to capture your lips one last time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you alone again, he knows kissing you in front of his brother would probably get him shot, so he’s going to take it all whilst he can. 

“Give it to me Joel, fuck,” You moan, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you upright, “Look at me whilst you do it,” You demands, “I wanna see your eyes when you pump me full of cum.” 

You’re looking up at him, bottom lip bitten between teeth as he stuffs his cock into you twice, three times. He looks you dead in the eye as he lets your name drop from his lips, hand gripping so hard at your skin it’s painful. He does exactly what you say though, looks straight into your eyes as his cock fills your full of his cum. Dark and dangerous, like predator has caught its pray, spread it out underneath him and fully devoured it. 

He lets out the softest of groans as he slips his cock from you, watching as his cum drips from your pussy. It’s depraved, but he takes two of his fingers and pushes as much of it as possible back inside you, curling his fingers up inside you, before he slips them out, covered in his own cum and the slick from your pussy.

He holds them up to your mouth, “You wanna taste, pretty girl?” 

Joel swears he sees the devil when you take hold of his hand and drag that perfect little tongue over his fingers. He thinks he might feel his cock begin to harden again when you take them all the way into your mouth and swirl your tongue over them to get them clean, he’s only a man, he can’t help but imagine what that mouth might feel like wrapped around his cock. 

He helps you down from the counter, passes you the underwear he discarded early and then slips out of his own plaid shirt, offering it to you for ruining the one you were currently wearing. You could very easily wander up the stairs and get another shirt, but you take it from him, wrap it around yourself and do up the buttons. 

“Sit down,” You speak softly to him once he’s got his jeans on properly, “I’ll finish breakfast.” 

Joel watches closely as you pour coffee and reheat the eggs slightly, piling a significantly bigger portion onto his plate than your own. You butter the toast and then sit down next to him, eating in silence. He expects it to be awkward, but it’s the complete opposite. It’s comfortable, warm even, just two people enjoying breakfast together before they must go back to their respective lives outside of each other. 

When you’ve both finishes, you take the plates and stack the in the sink before Joel realizes he’s still got to pick Sarah up. You smile at him when he stands, going to unbutton his shirt to give it back to him when he puts a warm hand on your arm.

“Keep it,” He says softly, “Looks miles better on you than it does on me.” 

Your head dips and then you smile, “Thank you.” 

He doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for – the shirt? Probably not. But he smiles and kisses your cheek all the same before he’s making sure he’s got his keys and then he’s leaving. 

All Joel can think about on his drive to pick Sarah up is the massive fucking line he’s just crossed. He can paint it in whatever light he wants to – normal couples fuck all the time, at every possible moment, when they’re trying to have a baby, so why should this be any different? That’s all it was, is what he repeats to himself, all fucking day, thinking of the way you begged him to fill you up again, the way your lips felt against his when you finally gave in and kissed him. But there’s still that fucking niggling feeling that he’s fucked it all up, mixed his own feelings in somewhere along the line. He should have never been with you without the knowing stare of his brother, looking out for any signs of concern. 

If only Joel knew that Tommy knew exactly what was happening that morning. If only he knew that you’d padded quietly down the stairs and found him soundly asleep on that couch, first instinct to reach for your phone and sent Tommy that text message. 

Joel seemed to stay the night on the couch. I know you’ll be driving, so totally get if not, but mind if we try again this morning? Might have a bit more luck relying on two instead of one this month. 

You’d waited just moments for Tommy’s reply, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching Joel’s chest rise and fall in his sleep. 

Course not sugar, you can tell me all about it when I get in and get you all to myself. 

[islandofsages]

Hey ! Can I ask for the Diasomnia boys reacting to a male!Ignihyde!reader who join the gargoyle club (idk if it's name) ?

Like, the reader is really just interest in the gargoyles, and isn't scare of Malleus (or anyone, really. Man is too tired for being scare.)

Ignore it if you don't want to write it.

Have a good day/night ! And happy new year too.

characters: diasomnia boys x male ignihyde reader

tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, imagines + scenario format; mentions of malleus in literally everything, lilia being a dad

warnings: none

author's notes: reader is so idgaf energy i love it. also i just remembered the small font feature exists LMAO do tell me if it's too small, i'll change it back to the original size!! if not, i'll change my previous posts to the smaller font. also you have a good day/night too anon ! and happy new year :D

Malleus Draconia

Oh? You want to join the Gargoyle Studies Club? You’re being serious? Oh!

Words cannot describe how happy he is about a fellow gargoyle appreciator though his expression doesn’t really show that

And to think you see him as just another dude… such honor was bestowed upon him…!

He’ll excitedly bring you to every gargoyle he’s found on campus and infodump about them - and you’d write them down somewhere if you’re in the mood

Sometimes you’d find new gargoyles and bring him to them and you start to do likewise

Even outside of club activities you two geek out about gargoyles at times which has earned you two the title of nerds

“Have I told you about the time I’ve met talking gargoyles? I never thought I would see such a day…”

Gargoyles aside, he has times where he confides his personal daily life in you and in turn, he’ll ask you what’s it like being in Ignihyde, etc

After being around each other so much, it feels weird when you guys aren’t together - some people would ask where Malleus is whenever you’re on your own, and vice versa

People found it weird how close an Ignihyde student is to someone from a different dorm too and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or not

But in a sense, Malleus really is your other nerdy half.

Sebek Zigvolt

You?????? Join the club where Malleus is president and is the only member of?????????

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’RE WORTHY OF JOINING SUCH A CLUB?”

Well, for one, the fact that you’re unfazed by his constant yelling and therefore probably too tired to be fazed by anything, consequently making you the perfect companion to Malleus because you wouldn’t react inappropriately to Malleus’ conduct

And that you actually are interested in gargoyles. That too. You tell all this to him

He clutches his head with one hand, debating your logic. You don’t know how and why but he accepts your argument

That doesn’t stop him from monitoring you two’s activities from afar but, again, you couldn’t care less. A sixteen year old’s fanatics is just part of the growing process

Outside of club activities, he interrogates you on what you’ve discussed with Malleus and you just tell him the truth: gargoyles

At some point, he gets so engrossed in your infodump about gargoyles his eyes shine with a new light

Of course, he mentions something about Malleus obviously liking something so interesting and befitting of his status - but he also thanks you for enlightening him on the topic and that he’ll go to you for more information if need be

You’ve converted him. You sometimes see him clutching a book about gargoyles around the school. It’s filled with notes sticking out of the pages. And a portion of that sometimes he’ll run to you to confirm about a fact or two

Maybe it’s safe to say you two are kind of friends now.

Silver

He doesn’t think too much of it other than being glad that Malleus finally has a fellow gargoyle fan he can geek out with

He’d see you and Malleus chatting it up around campus and he can’t stop the tender smile on his face from making an appearance

Sometimes he himself will try to strike up a conversation with you and gargoyle geek aside, he finds that you’re just a pleasant person to talk to and be around

He admits he’s not too close with any of the folks from Ignihyde aside for the Shroud brothers but you brush him off by saying that nobody is really

He also admires how you don’t really let anything get to you. Again, you shrug it off by half-joking that you’re too tired to be scared by anything at this point

He somewhat empathizes with you on that point, grieving over his narcoleptic tendencies with a heavy sigh

You try your best to cheer him up or if you have experience with such things, you give him advice on how to manage it

You then jest that he can tag along with you and Malleus’ club activities whenever he’s free if he wants. The more, the merrier, right?

He ponders it for a minute and nods. You didn’t think he’d actually accept the offer

“I don’t see a reason to refuse. Sebek and I have accompanied Malleus on his trips before. I’m sure this time around will be more fun with you here.”

And so you all do. You all have a royal time together - and the joy on Silver’s face is especially princely.

Lilia Vanrouge

He sheds (crocodile) tears at the thought of Malleus finally having an additional member in his one-man club more friends

Since you’re chill about it, he is too! As long as you get along with Malleus, everything will be fine and dandy

If anything, he’s a bit impressed by how it takes more than the average amount to gain a reaction out of you 

…and a bit concerned. Are you sure you’re getting enough nutrients? His paternal instincts kick in when you tell him you’re too tired to have a reaction to anything

He knows that Ignihyde students are mostly shut-ins but he still advises you and makes sure you get a balanced diet

It’s like he’s adopted yet another son

“Oh, (Y/N), you really ought to take care of yourself more.”

You grow a bit annoyed at him sometimes but you know his intentions are good so you don’t protest

You do feel very loved though. You didn’t expect this much from just joining a club for a topic you’re genuinely interested in

But you have to admit it is kind of hard to come by people who aren’t intimidated by the Malleus Draconia, even if you don’t see it as anything special

What’s special, though, is the affection Lilia holds for you.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Any chance you could do a famous single mum reader x Harry fic

since he’s a certified MILF lover

CRUSH

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven't given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy's afterparty and you finally tell him why you're so adamant about keeping your distance.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry will forever remember tonight.

It’s his second time going home as a Grammy winner and nothing can ruin this experience for him, not even how his performance was ruined. He did it again and nothing else matters for now.

Or at least that’s how he should be feeling as he is celebrating with his friends and other winners and artists at the after party, but something keeps bugging him.

Just hours earlier he ran into you again and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since then. It’s no surprise you were at the award show, even though you’re not a singer he could have expected to run into you at one of the most important nights of the year. Yet, he was still surprised to see you walk down the red carpet, but it might have been because you always have that effect on him no matter what.

If someone asked Harry who his celebrity crush was he would say you with no hesitation or remorse. He’s been enamored with you since the first time he met you at some other after party a few years ago. The two of you were introduced by a mutual friend and he stuck to your side for as long as possible, drinking up every word, every laughter and every look you gifted him with. He thought you were way out of his league, he still does, but that doesn’t stop him from yearning after you like a lovesick puppy every time your paths cross. Harry can’t tell how many times he tried to flirt with you before, but his flirty comments were met with soft rejection every time, you never seemed to be returning the gentle feelings and though it was devastating, he knew he could do nothing.

He could at least call you his friend, more or less. He definitely has a tither connection with you than with most people in this room, there’s a bigger circle of friends you both share so you end up meeting every few months without planning it and there are periods when you’re even texting.

He hasn’t talked to you for a while now, so seeing you brought his feelings back he’s been harboring for so long.

Now as he’s sipping on his drink he can’t help but keep looking around, trying to spot you in the crowd to no avail for now. He pulls out his phone and opens the message thread with you, rereading the last few texts he exchanged with you a while back. His thumb hovers over the screen, fighting the urge to hit you up with a message when an elbow meets his side. Looking up he sees Mitch beside him.

“Your crush is here,” he informs Harry with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the bar.

He follows his friend’s gaze and spots you only seconds later. You’ve changed out of your burgundy gown he saw you wearing earlier, sporting a chic pant suit this time, but you’re just as breathtaking as ever.

Mitch just chuckles when Harry gets up without a word and heads over to you. Pushing between guests he ignores everyone who might try to strike a conversation up with him until he finally reaches you.

“Y/N, hi!” he smiles at you warmly. You turn to face him with a cocktail in your hands, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Harry! What a nice surprise!” you chuckle. “Congrats on your wins!” You don’t hesitate to put an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug that he returns gladly.

“Thank you.”

“Though it was no surprise you won, the album is amazing.”

“You listened to it?”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hmm, probably… Satellite.”

“Great choice.”

The conversation keeps flowing and suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you even though it’s a crowded party that’s happening around you. Harry realizes that no matter how much time passes between each time he sees you, he will always catch himself falling for you over and over again. He tries to flirt with you this time as well and this is the first time he can feel like his rizz is not going straight over your head.

“Y/N, I need you to be very honest with me,” he starts, when you both had a few drinks. Neither of you is drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“About what?” you chuckle.

“Do I have a chance with you? For real, I’m not playing here,” he smirks, placing one hand to his chest, while holding up the other one, his half empty glass rising into the air.

You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you busy yourself with your own drink.

“Ah, it hurts!” he acts as if he was shot in the chest. “Am I that ugly and boring?”

“Of course, you’re not!” you roll your eyes.

“Okay, do you like me?”

“I do,” you admit, avoiding to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, then let’s take this conversation over to my place.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head.

“We can go to yours as well, I’m fine with that too,” Harry half jokes, but he notices that you’re not laughing. “Y/N, what is it then?”

“I need to get some air.” Jumping to your feet you leave your drink behind and head out to the back of the place that’s the smoking area, hoping to be alone for a bit, but Harry rushes after you, determined to get answers this time.

He finds you in a dark corner, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out into the void.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… fine.”

“I just… fuck, I really like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and… I couldn’t just not shoot my shot.”

“You’ve been shooting your shot for a long time.” He finally sees a tiny smile on your lips.

“So you did notice my attempts?” he grins. “Just chose to ignore them, I guess?”

“Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t ignore them anymore?”

“No. I can’t date you.”

“Can’t as in…?”

Sighing, your head falls back, against the wall as you close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them and finally looking at him.

“I don’t date.”

“Why?”

“Because of Arian.”

The picture is finally crystal clear in Harry’s head. You’re depriving yourself from dating because of your son.

It’s no news to Harry that you’re a mother, he has even met your five year-old son, but he never thought of him as the reason why you keep rejecting him. You keep your private life pretty hush hush, especially since you split from your ex, Arian’s father three years ago. No one knows why you called it quits and there’s actually no photo of the little boy online either, that’s how dedicated you are to protect him from the public. Harry completely understands it, but he doesn’t see why you can’t date because of Arian.

“The little guy doesn’t want to share you with anyone else?” he tries to joke.

“I’m a single mother who is also an actress. My life is complicated enough without dates and boyfriends.”

“Woah, we’re only talking about one boyfriend,” Harry puts his hands to his chest. You crack a smile, but it’s not as genuine as he would want it to be.

“It’s just not the right time for me to start dating again. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a little hurt you’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m sure dating a single mother is not exactly your dream either.”

“Y/N, I haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up. Arian is a cool little guy and I have no problem with you being a mother.”

“You will at one point, trust me,” you scoff and Harry tries not to take it personal. You’re just trying to protect yourself and your son, it’s not against him.

“What if I prove that it’s fine? That I’m not just some random guy who will come and go?”

Staring back at him you chew on his words as you tilt your head to the side.

“We’ll see.”

At first the peace and quiet takes over your waking mind. You feel a gentle breeze from the window you left open for the night and you stretch long underneath the silky covers when it finally dawns on you.

It’s peaceful. And quiet. You haven’t had a morning like this in about… well, five years. Arian loves to wake you up whenever you’re home, jumping on the mattress, or just cuddling to you, either way, he never misses a chance to spend a morning with you.

So where is he now?

Slight panic rushes through your veins as you quickly wrap yourself in your silky robe and head out to find your baby. All the worst case scenarios flash through your mind, but they dissolve the moment you reach the stairs and hear his laughter coming from the kitchen. With careful steps you approach the source of his voice that’s mixed with another one, a more mature male voice that you don’t recognize at first but when you round the corner and see what’s happening in your kitchen, recognition washes over you.

Harry Styles is making pancakes in your kitchen with your son. And they are making a big mess, but Arian seems to be enjoying it. Music is playing in the background and there’s a ginormous bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. Your heart flutters in your chest as you walk closer.

“Mommy!” Arian notices you and climbing off his stool he runs over to you and you gladly pick him up into your arms.

“Hey baby, what’s… what’s happening here?”

“Harry is making us pancakes!” He throws his hands up into the air in excitement as you walk over to the kitchen island and sit him down on top of it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he smiles at you so charmingly, it’s hard to focus on the fact that he is in your house on a Saturday morning.

“Hi, what do you… Um, what are you doing here?”

“Mommy, I told you, he is making us pancakes!” Arian giggles.

“I know, baby. Hey, you’re still in your pajamas, why don’t you go up and change?” You help him off the counter and gently push him towards the stairs. He runs off singing to himself.

“Before you throw me out,” Harry starts, holding the spatula up, “You told me to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That it’s fine that you’re a mom. So, this is our first date, in your house, with your son, so you don’t have to worry about him or get a babysitter.”

“How did you even get into my house?” you chuckle in disbelief. You’re definitely touched by the gesture, you don’t like to spend time away from Arian when you’re not working.

Grinning, he starts flipping the pancakes in the pan.

“Well, I might or might not have contacted your agent who hooked me up with your housekeeper who let me in this morning.”

“Wow, my own staff betrayed me,” you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say betrayed. They both were happy to help me, because they want what’s best for you.”

“And that would be you?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at his cockiness. He shrugs, but his smirk tells it all.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the stove off. “I really did mean it. I don’t care that you’re a mom. It’s all good, it’s part of you. I don’t want to just come and go in your and Arian’s life. Just give me a chance to prove that it could work.”

He must have some kind of magic power over you, because he really just waltzed in here, made some pancakes and convinced you to change your mind.

“Arian will always come first for me, Harry.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he nods.

“That means that even in my limited free time, you’ll most likely have to share me with him. I’m not the type to let nannies and babysitters raise my child.”

“And I love that about you. Arian is lucky to have you as his mother.”

Staring back at him you want to say no, but you simply can’t. It’s impossible.

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay as in… You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes, but don’t fuck it up,” you chuckle as Harry walks closer and his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. It’s the first time he is physically this close to you, but it feels like he’s been doing it since forever, like you belong in his arms.

“Never,” he smirks and as he leans closer you hear a pair of tiny feet running down the stairs, so you step back just in time for Arian’s return.

“Give me the pancakes!” he giggles, climbing up to a stool and you smile at Harry.

“See, he is already cockblocking you,” you whisper to him chuckling.

“Touché,” he sighs with a smirk. “But he is cute, so it’s alright.” Shaking it all off he turns to Arian as he places the pancakes on a plate. “So, what do you want on top?”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part VIII

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you lie to yourself. Chapter Warnings: Sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, praise kink, wall sex, semi-public sex, library sex, unrealistic refractory periods. Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

You don’t know what this is and you don’t know how to navigate it. 

Every night from dusk to midnight, you are in his bed. He makes you no promises and you don’t ask him to. You tell yourself that it’s meaningless, harmless, a bit of fun.

You ignore the fact that most sensible people would not define bedding a prince as a harmless bit of fun. Especially not when you’re a servant. Especially not when there’s so much that you could lose.

You ignore the fact that the longer it goes on, the more the meaningless parts start to feel substantive, the more it nudges at something in the center of your chest.

You ignore it all because if you don’t, if you stop and think very carefully about it, that’s when you will realize that you’ve wandered too far down a path that you ought not to have taken in the first place and by that point, it will be too late.

It is getting late and you are trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your head is resting on Loki’s chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat. His fingers have been trailing up your spine and into your hair and back down again. It’s soothing and it also gives you chills—a pleasant contradiction, much like Loki himself.

“I must leave tomorrow,” he says suddenly. “I have business on Midgard.”

“Oh,” you say. You’re not really sure how to feel about that. You’re not really sure whether you’re supposed to feel anything about that. Probably not. “How long do you expect to be away?”

He sighs. “Two months, at least. Likely more.”

“Long enough to cause trouble, I imagine,” you say lightly. There is an unexpected lump in your throat, but you’re doing your best to ignore it. There’s no reason there should be a lump in your throat; therefore it does not exist. You repeat this to yourself confidently, like saying it more than once will make it true.

“Well, naturally.” He rolls over, pulling you with him so that you are on your back and pinned beneath him. “I am the god of mischief, after all.”

“I suppose you are.” You recognize that look in his eyes. “And what mischief are you planning now, your highness?”

He hums and presses a kiss against your collarbone. “The usual sort.” He is growing hard against your belly. “I must have you at least once more before I depart on my journey.”

Despite all your complicated and confusing feelings, your body is warming to his touch, that all too familiar aching need stirring in your hips. “Only once?” you say as you open your legs to him.

“I said at least once. Try to pay attention, darling.”

In the end, he has you twice more, though the last one is quicker than you’d like, motivated by the lateness of the hour. He helps you dress and delays you once more at the door with a long and lingering kiss that you will find yourself returning to many times over the next several weeks.

“I really must go,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ll be missed if I’m away much longer.”

“Surely another minute won’t hurt,” he says, lowering his head to nuzzle the place where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m afraid you underestimate the power of very nosy kitchen maids.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I shall speak to Fritjof about the staffing.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s still a flicker of fear that runs through you at the sound of Fritjof’s name. “You wouldn’t,” you say, forcing your voice to sound light and unbothered.

He laughs quietly. “You’re right. I avoid speaking to that old bat whenever I can.”

You are used to hiding your true feelings about Fritjof. “He’s particular,” you say.

“He’s abhorrent,” says Loki. “If I were king, he would be the first I’d release from service.”

You can’t help but feel a little relieved by this statement. Sometimes it’s easy to feel like Fritjof’s unpleasantness is all in your head, or even just an overreaction.

You can’t say any of this, though, so you keep your expression neutral and polite. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice. “You’re simply accustomed to being well-mannered about it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say so if I was.”

He laughs quietly and runs a fingertip along your cheek. “I suppose not.”

There’s a beat of silence and the lateness of the hour strikes you once again. “I really must go,” you say.

“I know.” He looks at you carefully before leaning in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle, almost tender in a way that makes you want to indulge in silly daydreams.

But the kiss ends, though his hand remains cupped against your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll send for you when I return,” he says.

You want to believe him, but there’s a part of you that’s afraid that this might be the end of your extraordinary little dalliance. Surely his attention will wander elsewhere once he returns. You hastily dismiss the thought and force what you hope is a believable smile.

“Safe travels, highness.”

You’re surprised by how immediately you feel Loki’s absence. 

It’s not just the sex, though you certainly miss that. You miss his company, his dry and sarcastic remarks, the way that his eyes light up when you say something sharp or clever. His smile, his quiet huff of laughter against your shoulder, the way his long fingers curl around yours. The way he listens, the way his brow furrows when he’s deep in thought.

You try very hard not to think about what any of that might mean.

You resume your clandestine trips to the library, but you find it’s hard not to think of Loki in a space that you associate so closely with him: here is a book that you know he likes, there is the chair he prefers. The memory of his kiss burns on your lips, the ghost of his touch seared into your skin like a tattoo.

Deep down, you know what this means, though you won’t admit it just yet. Not even to yourself.

The first few days are difficult, but after a few stumbling missteps, you slowly find your way back into the rhythm you found back before Loki upended your days.

You’re soon reminded, though, that these forbidden trips are not without their risks.

It’s only blind luck that saves you. You are coming back from the library, cutting across the dining hall to save time when you notice the lace on your boot has come undone. You bend down to tie it and it’s only then in the sudden silence that you hear footsteps approaching.

You draw back quickly into the shadows, pressing yourself flat against one of the large stone columns. From this vantage point, you can just see the doorway at the far end of the room.

A figure appears and your heart nearly flies out of your chest.

There in the flickering torchlight is Fritjof. 

You hold your breath as he crosses the room. It might be your imagination, but you would swear he looks more sinister in this light, with his beady eyes and the torchlight casting gloomy shadows across his face.

He’s a little past your column when he pauses, the sharp flare of his nostrils the only sign of life in his eerily still frame. Your heart is pounding so hard that you worry it might somehow give you away, impossible as it seems. He doesn’t know about the library, you tell yourself, willing it to be true. He doesn’t know I’m here.

His gaze sweeps over the room, his eyes squinting against the torchlight. The permanent line between his eyebrows deepens, almost as if he knows something is not quite right.

But finally, after a long moment, he seems to think better of it and continues on his way, footsteps echoing ominously in the large room.

You only let out your held breath when he leaves. You wait until his footsteps fade and then you make yourself count to one hundred before you tiptoe your way back to your room, your heart pounding the whole way.

If you were sensible, you would give up going to the library. You know that.

But with Loki gone, it’s the only thing you have to look forward to, and for that reason, you can’t quite convince yourself to give it up, though you do start taking a different route back.

And agonizingly slowly, those first four weeks pass.

On the first night of the fifth week, it occurs to you that you’re a little over halfway through. Assuming, of course, that it’s only two months and not longer like he thought it could be.

Assuming, of course, that he still wants you when he returns.

You decide that you’re not going to think about either possibility or the little blip of melancholy that creates strange tightness in your chest. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.

On the third night of the fifth week, you hear footsteps in the stacks.

It must be Fritjof.

You try not to panic as you set the book carefully on the shelf, listening intently. There was always part of you that knew that this was too risky to continue, that being discovered was always the inevitable conclusion. He’d nearly caught you once already, why didn’t you think this time would be different?

A voice comes from behind you. “And what business does a kitchen maid have in the palace library?”

There’s about a half second of terror before you realize that the voice is not Fritjof’s. 

It’s Loki’s.

Before you can turn around, strong arms are wrapping around your waist from behind, a broad chest pressing against your back. You relax almost instantly, your fear turning to something that you will later recognize as joy.

“You’re shaking,” he says, pressing a kiss against your neck.

“You frightened me half to death,” you say, your heart beating wildly, half from joy and half from fear. “I thought you were Fritjof.”

“Such grievous attacks on my character already?” he tuts against your neck, though you can feel him smiling. “Any sensible man would be offended by such a comparison.”

“He nearly caught me last week. And you’re much earlier than you said—I didn’t think to expect you.”

He presses a soft kiss against your neck. “Are you disappointed?”

“That depends on how churlish you intend to be,” you say.

He laughs and it only makes you ache for him. He turns you around and before you can get a proper look at him, he’s pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply.

The restless, yearning ache that you’ve felt in your soul since he left finally stills when his lips touch yours. Kissing Loki feels like coming home—it feels so perfect, so right that it would scare you a little bit if there were room in your heart for any feeling other than joy.

It’s a minute or so later when he finally draws back just a little���only enough to speak. “Did you miss me?” he breathes against your lips.

Happy as you are, your first instinct is to deflect. You can’t be vulnerable. Not yet. “I would ask the same of you,” you say.

Instead of answering you directly, he presses his hips against yours so you can feel the hard length of him already straining at the confines of his trousers. You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Now give me a proper answer,” he says, his voice dipping into a slight growl that awakens that familiar, aching heat low in your hips.

A shiver snakes up your spine. “Yes,” you say. “Very much.”

His eyes flash and suddenly he’s pressing you back against the shelf and kissing you deeply. Desperately. You arch against him as his hands palm your breasts before dropping to your hips to pull you closer still, close enough that you can’t help but feel the hard press of his cock against you.

He pulls away abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you deeper into the stacks.

“Where are we going?” There’s a breathy quality to your voice that you hope doesn’t reveal too much.

“You’ll see.”

His destination is a dark, secluded corner near a collection of atlases. Before you can ask more questions, he’s pressing you up against a wall and you realize with a thrill that he intends to have you right here in the library.

“We could be seen,” you say as he hitches up your skirts and hooks your leg up around his waist. But your voice lacks conviction and you can both hear it.

“It’s late and no one ever comes back here.” His hand slips between your thighs, pushing your undergarments aside. “And I need you now.”

It’s a thrilling admission made all the more compelling by his long fingers stroking your slick folds and circling your clit.

“Oh, you did miss me,” he breathes as he slides a finger inside of you. “My poor little kitchen maid, so slick and unsatisfied.”

You are aching and a whimper catches in the back of your throat as he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. You grab his shoulders as a second finger joins the first. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need?” he purrs as he curls his fingers. “Do you need to come before I fuck you into this wall?”

You nod, panting. “Please.”

He chuckles darkly. “Darling, you know that’s not good enough.”

Your clit is throbbing as you tense around his fingers. You’re so close and his time away has left you needy and desperate. “Make me come, Loki. Please.”

His grin is wicked. “Good girl.”

His eyes take on a particular kind of focus that you only ever see when he’s got you hot and bothered and chasing an orgasm. His fingers are fucking into you with a slow precision, the heel of his palm grinding against your throbbing clit, nudging you closer.

“You’re so close,” he says, looking at you hungrily. “I love it when you’re like this, all wild and wanton.” He licks his lips. “You’re going to have to be quiet, though. Can you do that, darling?”

You manage a nod, but barely. The leg that’s not hooked around his waist is trembling.

“I’ve got you, sweet,” he murmurs, his arm firmly squeezing your waist. “Let go. Come for me.”

Your breath is coming in quick, shallow bursts. The instruction to be quiet seemed doable at first, but the feeling that’s cresting inside of you is so much bigger and stronger than you thought. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

“Loki,” you gasp in the last few seconds. “I can’t—”

Somehow, he understands your meaning because he covers your mouth with his, muffling your cries as you come hard, your fingernails digging into his back as you shake so hard your leg threatens to give out.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until the last shudder pulses through you.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he says reverently. “Just lovely.”

“Please—”

You don’t have to say any more. He fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers and frees his cock. There’s no teasing, no delay as he positions himself at your entrance—he wants you too badly to play his usual games, his desire heightened by your weeks apart. He slides into you easily, lifting you fully off the floor as he sheathes himself in you. You whimper and he sighs, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Norns, I missed this,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss you.

If you’d planned things properly, you would be back in his room or somewhere private where you could be as loud as you needed to be. This reunion has awoken something primal and hungry in both of you and staying quiet is a struggle. His hips take up a quick pace, driving into you with a speed and force that speaks to the profound need that had brought you to the corner of the library in the first place. He quickly finds the angle that makes you see stars and soon enough, you’re trembling around him.

“You take my cock so well, darling,” he mumbles against your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. “So good for me, so tight.”

“I’m so close—”

“I know, lovely, I can feel you.” He presses his forehead against yours, emerald eyes intent. “Come with me,” he grits out.

You keep your eyes locked with his until the force of your orgasm tips your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you clench around his cock. He is close behind, gasping out your name as he buries his face in your neck.

It’s a good minute or so before he withdraws, and he seems reluctant to do so. There is something decadent and scandalous about his spend dripping down the inside of your thigh, but you decide you rather like the feeling. It makes you feel like his in a very raw and primal way.

You try not to think about the fact that you have any desire to be his.

He takes your hands in his and a green light spreads over the two of you. When it dissipates, you find yourself in his chambers, in front of his bed.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” you ask.

“It requires some concentration and my mind was singularly occupied,” he says. “I can’t imagine that you would have been very pleased had we arrived in separate places.”

He is right, but you don't want to say as much.

“I’d thought that your skill with magic was too great for such silly mistakes,” you say instead.

“I see my absence has not blunted your tongue.”

You smirk. “I hope you didn’t expect it to. I could not bear for you to be disappointed.”

He chuckles. “Not at all.”

He kisses you again and it’s slow and intimate in a way you don’t expect, in a way that warms you from the inside out.

“I’ve quite forgotten what you look like in my bed,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I suppose I could remind you,” you say.

He kisses you once more. “Turn around.”

He undoes the buttons on the back of your dress with achingly slow precision, pressing soft kisses against the back of your neck and all along your shoulders and spine. Your dress and then your shift and undergarments fall to the floor until you are bare before him.

His fingertips lightly trail along your rib cage and under the curve of your breasts. You suck in a shaky breath. You’ve just had him, but you’re already aching for him again.

His thumbs brush against your nipples and a soft moan falls from your lips.

“You can’t possibly need me again so soon,” he says, but you can tell from the rasp in his voice that this is not one-sided in the slightest. “You’re still dripping with my seed.”

You arch your back so that your ass presses against the growing bulge in his trousers. “You speak as though I am the only one with such a need.”

He hums, pressing back against you. “Perhaps you’re not.”

You look over your shoulder. “Well, your highness?”

He laughs low in his throat, one hand sliding between your legs, gently circling your still sensitive clit. “And here I thought you would be too sated for such boldness.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to try harder this time.”

You’re immediately gratified by the feeling of his bare skin at your back and you barely suppress a shiver. Typically if he resorts to magic to remove his clothes, it ends quite enjoyably for you.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck the boldness right out of you,” he says, his voice growing dark in a way that makes the muscles of your cunt ache in anticipation. You bend at the waist, bracing your hands against the edge of the bed to support yourself as he drags his cock along your dripping folds. “You speak sharply now, but we both know that you turn into a whimpering mess the moment you have my cock in your tight and greedy cunt.”

Quite suddenly, he’s at your entrance and pressing into you, his passage eased by the heady combination of your slickness and his come from earlier. Your back arches and you push up on your tiptoes, trying to take him deeper.

You can’t quite help the sigh that escapes your lips, even though it causes him to chuckle because it proves his point. His fingers massage your clit and you shudder, letting out a soft moan.

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, darling,” he says. “It’s been weeks since I last heard you scream for me.”

You cast a glance over your shoulder. “Like I said, highness: you’ll just have to try harder.”

His eyes darken in a way that makes you shiver. “You’ve grown bolder in my absence, love.”

You smirk. “Then teach me a lesson.”

Your intention is to goad him into fucking you hard enough to make the ache of these last few weeks disappear. His wide, feral grin makes you think you might have succeeded.

“Well, darling,” he purrs, his hips snapping hard against you in a way that makes your toes curl, “if you insist.”

He slips easily into a brisk pace, his fingers rubbing languorously at your clit. The contrast between the two is enough to make you moan in a way that’s so so wanton it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Yes, I want to hear all of your lovely noises,” he purrs. “Let me hear how much you missed me.”

His slow pace on your clit is still at odds with the way he’s fucking you and it’s driving you absolutely wild. You’re only getting the added stimulation on every other thrust and while it feels good, it’s not helping you get any closer to coming.

You tolerate it for as long as you can stand, but eventually you can’t help but moan. “Please, Loki.”

“Please what, my love?” he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“More.”

He knows your body well enough at this point that he doesn’t have to ask what you mean—he simply begins massaging your clit in time with the thrust of his cock, making you keen.

“Like that?”

You can only moan in assent and he lets out a low chuckle as he continues with his new pace.

This is what you really needed, you think. His large hand firm on your hips, fingers on your clit, his movements just a little rough, his skin slapping against yours as he drives into you with hard and steady thrusts. You can feel the edge starting to approach, all of your muscles tingling and tensing in anticipation of your release. 

He knows your body well—too well, perhaps—and he recognizes how your muscles tighten and twitch around his cock right before you come undone.

And he stops, withdrawing from you completely. “Not yet,” he says.

The whine you let out is perhaps the most pathetic noise you’ve ever made in your life. “Loki, please.”

He turns you around, silencing your protests with a slow, deep kiss. “I need you closer,” he mumbles against your lips.

You let him guide you down onto the bed. While you like it when he takes you from behind, there’s an intimacy to having him on top of you. You can catalog his expressions, count the flecks of gold in his green eyes. You feel simultaneously as though you are perched on a cliff of great height and peering down, but also warm and safe.

It’s a feeling that you probably ought to interrogate; instead you push it from your mind.

He kisses you as he eases back into you and you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He’s slow and gentle with you. You thought you wanted fast and rough, but this…this is an unexpected perfection. You can feel every inch of him stretching and stroking the velvety inner walls of your cunt and every movement is somehow better than the last.

The buildup is slow and unhurried, the opposite of the library, the opposite of how he’d been driving into you mere moments before. He looks deep into your eyes, interrupted only when your lashes or his flutter shut against the rising tides within you both. It’s stirring something in your heart and you find yourself wanting to tell him that you missed this, you missed him, but the words stick in your throat and you suppose that’s probably for the best because these sort of things shouldn’t be spoken aloud when you are a servant who is bedding a prince in secret.

You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. Probably not ever. Instead, you draw your focus to the coil that is slowly winding in the pit of your stomach and roll your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. You pull him down to kiss you, hoping that his focus on taking you to your peak eclipses the fact that there’s far too much feeling in your kiss.

And moments later, your toes curl one last time and you cry out as you completely unravel. He groans deeply and gives two more sharp thrusts before he succumbs to his own bliss.

He gradually slows to a halt, dropping his head to your chest as he catches his breath. You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him on top of you, still pressed inside you, the feel of his sheets on your back. You missed this. You missed him. You—

You shouldn’t continue that thought. You shouldn’t admit to that feeling, even to yourself. It’s stupid. It’s dangerous.

Don’t say it. Don’t think it.

Loki gives a satisfied sigh, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The next time I say I need to be away for weeks at a time, tell me I’m a fool,” he mumbles.

“I’ll tell you you’re a fool regardless of your travel plans,” you say.

His laughter rumbling against your bare skin might be one of the best sounds in the world. “I would expect no less.”

He eases out of you, vanishing the mess and quickly pulling you to his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his chest, draping your leg across his stomach for good measure.

“Did it go well?” you say after a moment of quiet. “Your business on Midgard, I mean.”

He sighs. “It was tedious. I’d rather have stayed here.”

You wonder if he means here on Asgard or here in bed with you. You’re not foolish enough to ask, though you are foolish enough to hope.

“I think it sounds exciting,” you say. “I’ve never left Asgard.”

“I’ll take you, someday.”

The promise in those words—and their sheer impossibility—raises a lump in your throat. “I rather think that would be frowned upon,” you say lightly.

“All the more reason for it.” He strokes a hand along your thigh. “And how did you occupy yourself without my stimulating company?”

“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” you say. “I started reading in the library again.”

“I suppose I have been monopolizing your evenings,” he says, fingers tickling your thigh. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t simply take a book to your quarters.”

You swat at his hand. “You know that’s not permitted.”

He catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Neither is this, technically.”

“Yes, well.” You clear your throat. “I’d rather not give anyone more reasons to look more closely at my evening activities for that reason.”

“Am I to understand that you prefer my bed to the finest Asgardian literature?”

“That may be your understanding, but that’s not what I said.”

“Well.” He presses a kiss against the top of your head. “I suppose I’ll have to make my bed more tempting, then.”

It’s the sort of offhand comment you write off as a silly flirtation—he doesn’t mean anything by it, surely. It’s entirely forgettable.

Except…the next night, there’s a stack of books for you beside his bed.

“What’s this?” you say, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“I told you I intended to make my bed more tempting,” he says.

His eyes are glittering with mischief, but the gesture itself is achingly sweet, one that plucks at your heartstrings and reminds you of all the feelings that you’re pretending you’re not having. He had retrieved the book you’d been reading last night, along with titles by authors you mentioned liking back in the garden so many weeks ago. 

That night, he makes you read aloud from a book of love poems while he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue moving in iambs and dactyls on your clit until you come with poetry and his name on your lips. In the afterglow, you curl up next to him and read while he does the same, until you need each other again. It’s a new part of your routine, one that you’ll repeat many times in the coming days.

It’s there in the hazy paradise between prose and the bliss of his touch that a small, secret voice inside of you begins to admit that as much as you say it’s a harmless bit of fun, the situation has spiraled out of control in the worst possible way:

You’ve fallen in love with him. And you know it’s only a matter of time before he breaks your heart.

Next chapter coming soon

[gayozpin]

An Observation on Current Jaime and Confiding in People

The beautiful thing about Jaime Reyes? He's no stranger to opening up and being honest with how he feels.

Oh the wonders of growing up in a healthy and loving household!

But it is interesting to see that recently, as the weight of Jaime's responsibilities and actions increases, as things continue to change, we see Jaime withdraw into himself more and more and needing to be promoted by others to open up.

And see, the impulse is to be like, “Well Jaime has always talked to his family in the original run, he should always be open and honest with them," which yes! Jaime never was and still isn't a closed off person. Like ask him how he's feeling and he'll most likely open up.

BUT I personally enjoy the idea that as Jaime falls deeper and deeper into this life of heroing, as he gets older, it becomes more difficult to talk about certain things without being afraid that his friends and family will see him differently. Perhaps he feels like he has to “grow up" now and stand on his own, instead of allowing himself to lean on others, like you would as a child when things got scary or confusing and you would look to your guardian for help.

It can take time to realize that yes, even as an adult, you ARE allowed to seek support and lean on others when things get tough, but striking the balance of being independent and knowing when you need help takes time and a lot of self exploration. And well, Jaime's still young! And honestly experiencing SO MUCH at once.

So when it was revealed that Jaime hadn't told his parents yet about what happened to the Blood Scarab:

It was both, surprising and NOT surprising. Like not only is that NOT the kind of conversation you can have over the phone, but it's a stomach churning thing to reveal. It's the kind of thing that makes your blood run cold because YOU KNOW your parents. You know their beliefs. And while Bianca and Alberto would never stop loving Jaime or shame him for what happened...

... it's likely difficult for Jaime to see this. He's probably deeply afraid that his family will see him differently. That they'll be disappointed or worse, be afraid of him.

Because how can their heroic son do such a thing? When he would NEVER compromise his beliefs? ... Right?

He's probably scared, despite being assured time and time again that they'll always love him, he can always come to them for anything, and he'll always be their son above all else. That they know Jaime is a good person. Alberto and Bianca understand the nature of making mistakes, and what matters is that you tried your best, and what you do after.

And perhaps to those reading this, it would be considered OOC for Jaime to be afraid of his parents' reactions. Bianca and Alberto have never done anything to make Jaime doubt for a second that they would ever stop loving him, yet emotions can be illogical and I would say that Jaime is probably afraid of the weight of this revelation.

Because the reality is that it's not an easy pill to swallow. Killing the Blood Scarab when there could have been another way? Learning that there is no way to control Khaji Da because they aren't a thing, but a living being with their own impulses and fears?

God, who the hell WOULDN'T be afraid of sharing something so haunting that it could potentially shift how someone sees you?? ESPECIALLY when it's your parents who you love and look up to. Like you don't want to let them down, y'know?

And so as Jaime sinks deeper and deeper into this life, as he's faced with crazier enemies and even more difficult situations, it's probably going to get even harder for Jaime to talk about these things with his family.

BUT, I don't think Jaime will ever fully shut out his loved ones because he is too loved and cared about for his family to allow it. They know him, and they can tell when something is wrong. They might have to poke and prod, but it doesn't take much for Jaime to open up. And Jaime loves his family and friends too much to lose them. It may take some time for Jaime to work through this fear, but with support, he'll find the courage to seek support!

So yeah! I love that Jaime is both willing to go to people and talk about how he's feeling, while also having the cat-like tendency to slink away when it's something REALLY difficult or painful to talk about. Like most people haha!

And that's the post! If you have read this far, thank you so much for reading!! I appreciate it! ♡

[utilitycaster]

Ok I'm probably going to regret reinventing 17th century European religious philosophy here but:

Ludinus's issue with the gods as stated to Imogen and Fearne (and I will state right now that we know he was lying or deliberately misleading at points in that conversation so I don't exactly take him at his word, but let's assume he does mean this) is that they did not prevent the Calamity. I have the following questions.

Does he have any loyalty/feelings about the Titans given that they would have killed all the people in the era of the Schism, ie, the gods averted that Calamity? My guess is no, which means that whole avenue of discussing the Titans was something of a dead end.

How should Calamity have been averted? The Prime Deities during the Age of Arcanum largely let people do what they wanted, which is what led to one of those mortals releasing the Betrayer Gods. Should the gods have struck down Vespin Chloras before he actually did anything, Minority Report style? Can the gods even predict based on the actions of a single individual or small group, because my guess is they can't, particularly since within the current stream of gameplay they absolutely cannot [ie, the reason the Changebringer can't tell FCG to stay or run is because Matt Mercer is the Changebringer and he doesn't know how people will roll; you do need to consider the medium here]. But if they could: so you think they should strike down mortals on the basis of thoughtcrimes? Or control them? In that case, why is Aeor a problem? There's a lot you can argue is justified once you permit the gods to override free will and kill people over mere potential for catastrophe.

On that note, Laerryn both was an unwitting architect of the Calamity (shorted on energy and then killed the Tree of Names, which served as a core planar defense system) but also averted the worst of it. Did the lives she saved by preventing the rise of Rau'shan and Ka'Mort outweigh the lives she took by destroying the Tree of Names? How should the gods have reacted?

Should, perhaps, the gods have all sealed themselves away earlier - perhaps post-Schism? If so, then the issue isn't the Divine Gate, now is it? Should the gods intervene or not intervene? Should they remove themselves or no? It feels like the issue isn't that they distanced themselves so that they can do less in the world, particularly if you wish to kill them, but that you really want to fucking kill them and they made that somewhat more difficult.

How do we know the gods (for example) didn't save Laudna? She was hanged and she's still alive; Morri would probably count this as saving her and I don't see the same desire to wipe out all Archfey. [real talk I find most discussion of Laudna specifically to be...incomprehensibly ignorant in its refusal to acknowledge that everything about it is player agency related, whether it's the story that the cast played out for Vox Machina or the decisions Marisha specifically made in creating the character, ie, do you think Matt should have said "well you can't play a Hollow One because that would mean the gods didn't save you" not to mention the fact that again, we are playing this within a game system where the existence Deus Ex Machina would in fact fucking suck ass; but even setting aside those reasons why this argument is stupid, it's still stupid. It's like a layer cake of stupid.] Again: do you want more intervention or less? Killing them guarantees less.

I'm assuming the problem with the Calamity is the vast loss of life, in which case, what's the math on how many people have been killed by the Vanguard or Imperium in the pursuit of unleashing Predathos? How many more will die?

If the release of Predathos doesn't result in the immediate demise of all the gods, and the Divine Gate is down, why isn't this a recipe for Calamity 2? What was the motivation for killing the gods again?

Should we kill mortal diviners who do not do all within their power to stop terrible things that may come to pass? If the issue is that some people have power without working for it, why haven't we killed all the sorcerers?

Should we be listening to a single word from someone who consumes random fey to live longer, and that's just the start of the CVS receipt of atrocities?

Is there a point where one's deeply held beliefs due to one's own personal trauma become invalidated due to one's actions as a result of that trauma? If so, why is the limit for Orym "is okay with killing people who are trying, directly, to kill you (which, frankly, isn't even a trauma response, that's just called not wanting to die, which I highly recommend as a personal philosophy), and gets upset when people defend those knowingly collaborating with his family's murderers" and the limit for Vanguard generals "family abandonment/just. buckets of murder of innocents./child soldier recruitment in multiple different contexts/eating fey as biohacking/destroying an entire city and the surrounding forest for hundreds of years (ongoing)/imperialism in multiple different contexts/I was going to make a gallows humor joke about how while neither exist in-world they've violated the Geneva Convention AND the IRB for testing on human subjects multiple times over but actually those both are in fact written in a lot of the same blood/probably some others that I'm forgetting"

[wishuroses]

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 such a sure thing, aonung.

✶ pairings: aonung x sully!reader

✶ warnings: awkward attempt at fluff, apologizing, rivals to friends but there’s something more, reader takes the place of neteyam but is slightly more assertive and even more prone to violence, aonung is a simp in the making and reader is here for a good time not a hard time, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 1k

✶ na’vi glossary: payoang – fish, skxawng – idiot.

✶ a/n: second fic on this profile! this is a little something i just had rotting in my notes app since like early february, it was more self indulgent at first but since i currently don’t have a single creative bone in my body i’ve decided to feed u guys with whatever this is while i try to rack up more ideas for future fics. happy reading! :-)

“What is going on here?”

You called out with a panicked lilt to your voice, the sand shifting beneath your feet and between your toes as you hurriedly marched towards the commotion.

You’d heard the stern yet desperate voice of your little sister, Kiri, yelling at someone– or maybe more than one– to ‘leave us alone’.

Your voice and Kiri’s did nothing to stop them, however, as the teens continued to poke and prod at your siblings as nothing but wicked laughter and unabashed insults left their mouths.

With a sharp exhale, you stomped up to Aonung and shoved him as hard as your strength could allow you to, which effectively caught him off guard. The braids that frame your face swayed from side to side dramatically, and almost comically so, beads audibly thudding against each other.

You thought about doing more than just shoving him, thinking that maybe full on linebacking him with the intent to injure would’ve definitely been more satisfactory in your taste, but you knew the numerous consequences that would swarm around your head like the annoying flies your father talked to you about.

Aonung stumbled back a few at the force of your push, resulting in everyone shifting their attention towards you. A look of surprise flashed across his face, but was replaced by a sly smirk as quick as it came, more arrogance emitting from him. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, his ears were tucked back against his head, as if he was embarrassed at getting shoved so hard and nearly falling on his ass. As he should be.

“Back off.. Now,” You stepped closer, digging a strong navy blue finger into his sternum. Both of your faces merely inches apart as your big amber eyes peered courageously back into his baby blue ones, stern gaze never once faltering. Such a shame, you thought, that such beautiful eyes belonged to someone so awful.

“And so help me Eywa, if I ever catch you–” You then turned to the rest of his gang, making sure to lock eyes with every single one of them, “or ANY of you lay a finger on my siblings ever again, you all will be down to 2 on each hand. Then we can discuss who the real freak is.” You say carefully, making sure each and every one of them heard your words.

“That is a promise.”

The irritated look in your eyes and the occasional flare of your nostrils assured him that you were dead serious, he had no doubt in his mind you were. The rough, accented edge to your voice made goosebumps rise from his skin. Aonung locked eyes with you once more, pupils dilating as you both gazed into each other’s eyes.

It was then that time seemed to melt between the both of you. A beautiful baby blue swimming in pools of striking amber.

If you weren’t huffing angrily with adrenaline running through your veins, you probably wouldn’t have missed the light dust of pink that bloomed upon his teal cheeks. After a beat of silence, Aonung relaxed and passively looked off to the side, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Good choice.”

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 ✿̅

It was nearing eclipse, the pinks and oranges of the sunny horizon reflected back into your wide, yet tired eyes. You were laid snug on your stomach by the shore, the foam of the waves kissing your hands as the grains of sand stuck snug against your tummy. The only thing that filled your senses were the waves crashing against the sand, the soft singing wind, and the odd saltiness and humidity that filled the air– which was something you’d barely gotten used to. Nonetheless, it was still comforting.. in a sense.

That was, until, the hairs on the back of your neck stood. You felt a shift in the atmosphere, almost as if someone else were there with you. Cautiously, you peeled your eyes away from the ocean and looked to your right immediately, only to find Aonung standing a great distance from you, not too far yet not too close either.

But it was still a bit too close for your liking.

His questionable behavior gained a look of confusion from you, as you sat up from your previous position to sit on your haunches. “..Hello? What is it?” You say, concerned at his sudden arrival, yet irritated at your alone time being disturbed by some ocean-dwelling creep who couldn’t keep his comments to himself. “If you say some dumb shit to me Aonung I swear–” At the expense of your words, he shuffled closer to your hunched form, sitting beside you at a pace so slow you were so sure he thought you were going to lunge at him.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trust yourself not to.

Aonung was so close that his arm occasionally grazed yours, making goosebumps arise from your skin at the foreign yet oddly calming contact. To your surprise, it didn’t bother you one bit. In an attempt to distract yourself from the extremely awkward encounter, you tediously wiped off the sand that dug into your stomach and thighs.

“Sorry. I have come to.. apologize?”

His revelation earned him a look of surprise, your eyebrows shot up immediately and your back straightened along with them. Your beads thudded together in unison at how quick you looked at him. “Are you asking me, or are you telling me?” You quipped, almost not believing the words that were said to you.

“I am telling you, skxawng.” He shot back quickly, his eyes trailing from the waves to your big ones; the ones that stared back at him, the ones that held so much emotion– yet he couldn’t figure out what they were. With a sigh, he averted his attention, finding the dangly bits of his loincloth to be much more interesting. “I apologize for acting that way towards you and your siblings. I was confused over everything, the sudden arrival of your family, and–as the future Olo’eyktan–protective of my clan, but I had nowhere else to air my feelings. So I took them out.. on all of you... I am so sorry.”

His voice wavered a little at the end of his statement, alarming you a great amount as you’ve never heard him get to this point before. Whether it was from embarrassment or if he was genuinely about to start bawling, you didn’t have a clue.

After a beat of silence, you shuffled closer and placed a gentle four-fingered hand on his back– hoping that your small gesture spoke enough words so that you didn’t have to. You heard his breath hitch a bit, and you hoped you hadn’t crossed any boundaries and made him uncomfortable. That thought was quickly replaced when he hadn’t made any plans to move away or to slap your hand away from him.

With a sigh, you gave a stiff pat to his back, making him look back at you with an expression you couldn’t read even if you tried. The corners of your lips quirked upwards as you locked eyes with him, only to look back at the beautiful view in front of you both. He never looked away from you, though, tracing your delicate features with his eyes.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud–not yet at least– but he thought you were beautiful. Despite you not looking like the Metkayina he was so used to seeing, and barely even your own, you were still pretty in your own weird way.

You weren’t yet ready to forgive him completely, as insults like those were like stones to your heart; but you were sure that amends could be made, and that people can change for the greater good.

“You’re good, payoang..” Your tone was light and airy when you responded, resulting in something weird happening to his poor, poor heart. He’d never heard your voice in a tone as gentle as this, only hearing your rough shouts, sneers, and the occasional threatening.

Aonung chuckled softly at the odd nickname, yet welcomed it nonetheless. He can admit, it was fair game with how many times he’d call you weird names, but this one seemed a bit more intimate.. had a bit more weight to it. “We’re good... but actions speak louder than words. I need you to respect my brother and my sister.”

“If you disrespect them, you disrespect me.”

Aonung nodded so quick you thought he would get a severe case of whiplash. “Yes, yes, I understand.” He was starting to become hyperaware of his surroundings, the hand that was still placed on his back felt like searing hot coal, but he didn’t dare flinch away.

“You are so, so pretty when you don’t threaten my life.” He said breathlessly, as if he was genuinely in awe of you, your appearance, your everything. It caught you off guard, the sudden confession, but the corners of your mouth quivered upwards into a bashful smile as a soft chuckle bubbled from your throat.

You felt shy under his gaze all of a sudden, dipping your chin downwards to look away from him, to get away from those eyes that held such intense emotion.

“Skxawng.”

[elix8r]

it's raining, it's pouring - teaser

FULL FIC HERE

PAIRING: cheetah hybrid!mark x house cat hybrid!y/n

GENRES: hybrid!au, smut, angst, enemies to ?

TEASER WC: 0.54k i'm editing it rn and i'm thinking that the end product will be around 5k?

SUMMARY:  Hating Mark could almost be considered your part-time job ever since Taeyong adopted him. But on one fateful night, a raging storm strikes, and with Taeyong nowhere to be found, you find yourself seeking an unlikely source of comfort - your annoying cheetah roommate. 

It was obvious that you were beyond stressed, and even without smelling you, Mark could feel anxiety radiating off of you. It was indeed storming terribly outside, and now Mark was becoming worried knowing that Taeyong was out there. But seeing your state, he came to the conclusion that it would do no one any good to have the both of you freaking out.

"Hey, I'm sure he's fine. I bet he's just waiting out the storm at his work. Why don't you come in here and wait together for him?" His words did not do much to ease your tension, but you did oblige (if it were other circumstances, you would never agree to enter his room, but desperate times called for desperate measures).

"But why isn't he answering my calls then? He knows that I hate storms, and I can't go through them without him! Mark, what if he's never coming back?" You had plopped yourself on top of his bed, eyes wide and lips quivering.

Mark sighed. "Y/N, now you're being ridiculous. Why would he just abandon us? He's probably not getting a signal or something more reasonable."

His dismissive response lacked empathy for your concerns, and you were now shedding tears. "What do you mean more reasonable? I think my concerns are valid! Maybe he's tired of us fighting all the time! I mean, we haven't been the best for him, and I know he's been having a hard time with us. It’s possible that he had it with us and just abandoned us to run away!"

The concern he previously felt was now gone as your dramatic rant slowly started to irk him more and more. Everyone knew that you were the main instigator of your fights, always being unfriendly towards Mark, so to have you group him with you had him scoffing. "You mean more like you were not being a good hybrid like you should have been. I mean, you're the one always instigating fights. I try my best to deal with you, but you're so bratty. Honestly, I'm surprised Taeyong's been able to deal with you this long."

Throughout the three years of living with Mark, you could only count a handful of times that he responded to you in such a manner. He was usually mild-mannered and overall just nice, so hearing this from him had you shocked. It was such a switch and instantly, you could feel his annoyance towards you in the air. 

"Ma-Mark, what do you mean?" Your cries had yet to stop, and Mark rolled his eyes at you. Were you that dumb that you hadn't caught on to how frustrated Taeyong had recently been with your behavior? Taeyong was usually very tolerant, but even he was having a hard time with you.

"Jesus Y/N, are you seriously that stupid?" Even Mark was shocked at how he was talking to you, but this pent-up anger towards you had been a long time coming. He had been holding it all in, trying to be as good as he could to you despite your actions towards him, but now he was reaching a boiling point. He was beyond annoyed, and maybe this cold hard wake-up call was needed for you to start behaving better.

[p4rallel-universe]

wolf-out

(Enid Sinclair x male reader) (this part could probably be read as a GN reader is intended to be male, and if i make some more parts they'll be more clear abt that)

summary: Something about being a teen werewolf in love makes Enid's sex drive act up.

nsfw

soaked in sweat, tousled hair stuck to her forehead, Enid wakes up. blankets twisted around her, half kicked off the bed, she's a mess.

additionally, that morning - just the same as the morning before, and the morning before that - she wakes up with a strange empty feeling inside her stomach. it's all because of a dream. a dream she can never really remember the details of, but when the vague memories of it come to her during the day her face flushes.

she isn't sure what's been going on with her lately. every morning she wakes up, feeling needy and then all throughout the day her thighs press together at the slightest inappropriate thought.

she tries to put it down to regular hormones. and definitely nothing to do with the fact that her lycanthropy-enhanced libido has probably kicked in now that she's found a mate.

speaking of, she's just about going crazy with everything you do recently. every fleeting touch has her flustered. the worst part is, you don't even realise you're doing it, obviously. your hand goes to her waist or rests on her thigh absentmindedly and you don't even see how it makes her want to collapse then and there.

when you find her at school that day, her face lights up. it lights up even more when you invite her over to your dorm that night. she kisses you quickly, "see you at 8!", and then when you run off again she takes a second to panic.

she wonders, should she...talk to you about it? tell you about her feelings? she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel you have to do anything just because she, for lack of better phrasing, can't stop being horny.

and it's not like she wants to have sex. well- she definitely does. but not yet. she doesn't know what she wants to do, but she wants- no, at this point, she needs to do something.

that night, about half 7, Enid gets ready to go over to your dorm. she's giddy and really, she can't wait. she loves to see you, even if it's just to sit around in your bed for a couple hours.

after selecting an ideal outfit for the night, which is really just a jumper and a pair of shorts - it's comfortable, but still flattering, because it's on her - and fixing her hair one last time, Enid bids Wednesday goodbye, telling her not to wait up for her (not that she would). leaving her dorm, her stomach tingles a little with something that's a bit like nerves.

when you greet her at your door, dressed in equally comfortable clothing, she immediately jumps into your arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. you sway back and forth for a bit until she let's go of you, and you invite her inside. taking her hand loosely, you lead her over to your bed and you sit down together. the second you sit, she snuggles right up into you.

an hour or so passes, and you've switched cuddling positions about 5 times, watched less than half a movie, laughed till you cried over really stupid memes on Enid's phone, and of course, kissed. a lot. the clock strikes 10 and Enid figures she should probably go home. nuzzled into your chest, legs entwined with yours, she really doesn't want to leave.

"why don't you just stay the night?" you groan, wanting nothing more than for her to stay right where she is,

"Y/N, i can't-" she replies, then considers it for a second - i mean, it's not like Wednesday will have any complaints about having the dorm to herself for the night, right? - ..."actually, yeah, i will!" she says, and you kiss her forehead, happy to not have to say goodbye.

somewhere between then and 4 hours later, you both fell asleep. you're holding her close to you, her arms are wrapped around you and your legs are tangled together. you both sleep peacefully like this, until suddenly Enid wakes up.

in her sleep, she's moved so that both her legs are wrapped around one of yours. the same provocative dream that's tormented her for days must have struck her again, as the ache between her legs is stronger than ever, and, by her position, she guesses she must've been unconsciously grinding against you. she pricks with shame, and is glad that you're still fast asleep otherwise she probably would've died from embarrassment.

but still, the feeling of shame can't compare to the dull ache that's she's suffered through, unreleased for days. and now that it's stronger than ever, she isn't sure she can sleep or even breathe without doing something about it.

hesitantly, she presses a kiss to your neck, pulling back to read your face, she gives you another. hands tentatively moving to your upper arm, she keeps pressing quick kisses to your exposed neck. when she notices you stirring, she pulls away and looks at your face. when your eyes open, half-lidded, she smiles before anything. your eyes. the way you're looking at her right now only makes her want stronger. she wants you to look at her, all of her, just like this.

before you can even say hey, she kisses you. taken aback, you hesitate to kiss back. when her hand moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, you start to reciprocate. she notices how the want behind how you're kissing her mirrors her own and it only excites her more. deepening the kiss, - Enid wants everything to be deeper, more intense right now - she slips her tongue into your mouth.

hearing your sighs of content, the way you're groaning in satisfaction at just kissing her, is driving Enid up the wall. lost in the bliss of it, without thinking she presses her heat intensely against your leg. the pressure is both too much and not enough, and somehow she just doesn't care anymore, and starts to rut gently against you. she's surprised when your hands move to her hips, rocking her back and forth. she gasps, her hands tightening their grip on your hair.

it's weird, how good it feels, just a little bit of friction, even through two layers of clothing. it's heaven already, and just what she's needed this whole week.

she can't explain the rush - the feeling of your hands on her body, fingers pressing into her hip, the back of her thigh - it's insane, how much she wants you right now. it's almost primal, the way she's rutting herself against you, panting into your mouth through messy kisses.

she picks up her pace, chasing the faint release she can feel building already. you break the kiss to move down to her neck. kissing her jaw, just underneath her ear. without thinking, she growls. deep and low, right into your ear.

the way she's desperately grinding herself against you, so needy. the hot sounds of her breathless panting, her literal growls. it flips a switch inside you, and Enid gasps when you switch your position so she's underneath you.

the closeness, chest to chest, Enid already twitching her hips upwards, trying to gain friction again. it's clear how turned on you both are. you resume kissing, messier than ever, and you immediately start grinding against eachother. this feels even better than just humping your leg. now she can feel how turned on you are as well, and the feeling of you pressed against her is electric.

you're both a panting mess, the room is hot, roasting even. Enid wastes no time in tugging your shirt off your body, and you throw it away carelessly. returning the favour, you tug on the bottom of her jumper and she practically rips it off of herself. Enid isn't really sure where this is going. it's hot, it's so hot. she does want more, but not right now. she just wants to keep doing exactly this, she needs to keep doing this until she finds the release she's needed following night after night of her brain sexually tormenting her.

the movements of your hips grow sloppier as you're both nearing climax. you're grunting and gasping, while Enid's high pitch moans ring out, contrasted by lower growls whenever friction hits a particular spot that drives her crazy.

it's bliss, and she almost doesn't want it to end. but it's going to, and soon. she can feel the first waves of an orgasm coming and her eyes are already fluttering shut.

"please, please-" she chants breathlessly, over and over in your ear.

her climax finally comes, and it's the greatest relief she's ever felt. the pleasure washes over her and her eyes squeeze shut. she can feel it in every part of her, literally buzzing in her fingertips. she chokes out a moan when she feels your hips stutter and you let out a gasping grunt when the pleasure of your own orgasm arrives. aftershocks hit you both and you twitch against eachother.

panting loudly, and completely blissed out. you collapse next to her. your fingers entertwine and you lie there for a second, holding hands as you both sigh in content.

"wow." you say, chuckling, and you look to her. she moves to snuggle into your chest, hand still joined with yours.

"yeah, wow." she smiles against your chest and you pet her hair gently. you're both exhausted. it's 3 AM at least, and you've really worn yourselves out.

you barely press a kiss to Enid's forehead before she's out cold. adorable in sleep, she's sprawled across you, lips slightly parted.

you smile at seeing her looking this beautiful. she's sweet, and hyper, and she's wild.

she's yours.

A/N - p4rallel-universe's first nsfw fic?? i'm so sick rn but i was very invested in writing this lmfao

[zarla-s]

Man it's been a long time since I've done an ask cluster! Let's see if I can get some down...

He's an extremely fun character to write for and play with! So in that sense I'm fond of him, haha. He's such a huge disaster of a person, there's always something fun to do with him. Well "fun" in a relative sense.

I don't have anything to forgive him for, he didn't hurt me. |D He hurt the brothers!

I do have an idea for a cute feature inspired by Six-Eared Macaque! I should really sit down and do that already... and finish the one I half started but never finished...

I don't think my opinion on any of them changed! I love them all, haha. Which ones I drew comics about just depends on which ones I get ideas for really. Sometimes I get Alphys ideas and sometimes I get Goatparents ideas! Inspiration is fickle!

I don't have any solid plans or anything. :B Just gonna keep chugging along with silly comics and art! Work on Defrag and such. I'd like to finish a Ladyverse comic I've had lying around forever, and I had vague plans for doing a doujin for them too I could work on... and also seeing if I could format Handplates into a book format... I've always got a bunch of projects, haha.

It works on that level! It wasn't intentional though. |D

I do enjoy speculation! I don't really have much of my own though, I didn't predict anything in chapter 2 so now I'm assuming I can't predict anything in the future chapters either, haha.

Emesis Blue is great! Some really beautiful visuals in there, very striking! Love the mood of it too and a lot of the surreal imagery. I think it helped spur me back into TF2 again, haha. Medic and Scout's relationship was so cute.

I have thought about this! It has its share of challenges though... I outlined them more in this post. A pdf would be more doable though... could even include some extra stuff as well! Hmm...

I can see that! He'd probably spend as much time out in the rain as he could just doing whatever to stay outside.

It was pretty much always going to end like that. I always wanted it to end on a hopeful note! Which might seem weird with how dark it is at the beginning. I DID for a brief period at the very beginning of Handplates think about stopping with the Pacifist run, but that was only because I thought going where I wanted to go would take too long and already the project seemed so dauntingly huge at the time, haha. But it was always going to end in a positive way!

Gaster talks about what he originally intended to create here, and he explains a bit about the physical experiments he runs on the brothers here. They aren't really a solution in and of themselves so much as tools to try and find a way to break the barrier. Really though, Gaster got stuck in the sunk-cost fallacy lol.

I don't really have opinions about what canon Gaster would be like. |D Handplates Gaster is his own thing really. Canon Gaster, who knows! Deltarune Gaster, who knows! I will say I hope Gaster stays a mystery in Deltarune and never actually shows up but I think the odds of that are really low at this point.

I thought about doing a script along those lines! I did a few rough drafts of one, but it never really went anywhere... it'd end up dead-ending or kind of meandering off. I might see if I can get an actual script down for a side-comic or something in the future... it might be better suited for a fic.

I was just thinking about this lately! I was picturing Gaster totally forgetting about that until he sees Papyrus squinting and is like OH GOD YOUR EYES THAT'S RIGHT D: and goes to get him looked at lol.

I couldn't come up with a good idea for Flowey which is a shame, I do like him, haha. If one comes to me though I might make a little side comic about it!

Gaster's LV is complicated... his stats in-game are ludicrous if I recall correctly. Did he carry the damage from his murders into the void, even if those murders weren't his in the new timeline? Deep thoughts.

He fed them anything he could find, haha. Which is why sometimes they just ended up with chocolate bars (which he intended as dinner for himself). He probably fed them more often than he fed himself lol. He did feed them fairly regularly though.

Not about skeletons, probably. |D

Man I know I had an explanation for this but it was so long ago... it's hard for me to remember. It could be that the Riverperson is just weird and has weird insight into elements of things, had a prophetic dream... I don't know! It bugs me now that I can't remember this, haha.

[mayasaurusss]

Day twelve: walk trough a graveyard. Contents: implied that reader and Shauna are togheter, but no romantic scenes.

A/N: this was originally gonna be the "Well...you grabbed my hand first" prompt but at the end I have noticed that I completley got derailed and forgot to write that prompt. So I moved what was going to be today's prompt tomorrow, and what was going to be the 22th prompt today. My bad!😥

"I just want to state, once again, how this might be the most...dickhead idea you've ever had". Shauna's fingers thighten on your hand, almost hurting. "Oh come on, it's just a graveyard". You didn't know what possessed your mind on this cold dark night, but you had decided to go take a walk in the town's graveyard; and forced Shauna to come with you.

"I'm bored" were the words that would doom Shauna's calm evening that night. "We've seen every movie, talked about every book, done everything," you threw your arms in the air, "and the fair won't come for another two weeks!". "We should do something exciting" Shauna hummed for behind her books, nose deep inside the pages. "What do you plan on doing?" your evil smirk should have been the first sing she had to look out for. "You know what should we do?".

"I hate you" she says as she walks closely behind you, pressing into your body and making walking through the vines difficult. Shauna would lie if she said she didn't feel creeped out by all this. As if to spur her fears even more, you hadn't decided to walk through the modern cemetery; that would have been far too boring. No, you decided to go to the old abandoned one outiside town, as old as the knowledge that bodies would infect the living if not buried. The graveyard's dates all the way back to the ending of the civil war. Most of the graveyars's dates of birth and death's are before the strike of the 20th century. It was dark, so dark that your flashlight could only light up an arm's lenght from you. Countless of graves laid dormant in the cemetery, vines growing in the stone's cracks. "Couldn't we have gone like...to, I dunno, a movie drive-in?" her voice is small against the darkness. She's whispering, scared that she might wake up something old. "You don't have to whisper. There is no one here" you say, far too loud in the stillness of the graveyard. "We've already seen all the movies there are out there, just this once we could do something more exciting! Halloween is coming up after all..." you bend down to examine a small doll left near a grave. "I keep telling you, it's not fucking possible we've seen all movies in existence" Shauna cringes as she watches you touch the old porcelain doll, a small bug crawling out of it's eye socket. "AND DON'T- don't touch that stuff. You don't know what might happen!". You let out a loud laugh, certanly disturbing whatever was lurking in the dark. "What? Are you afraid of some ghosts?" you continue walking, your feets untangling the vines on the ground. "N-No!" the hooting of an owl echoes from behind the trees. Coupled with the sound of falling leaves hitting the ground, it certainly did not put Shauna's nerves at ease. Well, not just of ghosts. "W-well, it's dirty; it could have- give you some strange sickeness" suddenly she's very interested to know to whom this doll belonged. The name has faded with time, but she can make out a date: "-rn in 1896-died in 1908". They were just a kid. "Put that doll back, now-"she stops when the sound of something falling echoes in the graveyard. An unnatural silence follows after.

"What the- what the fuck was that?!" she whipser-yells at you, her hand tugging and tighening around yours. You are trying so hard to keep calm, but your brain screams at you that there is something very wrong, something to run away from. You feel your words choke in your throath, "Pro-probably just a cat...".

"Cat's can't-!" a single small rock tumbles from the darkness towards you, stopping right at your feet. You move your head when Shauna gasps, just in time to see a pair of yellow eyes watching you.

It all takes a moment for you two to run out of the cemetery and let your feet carry you far away. You only stop when the air feels too thin and too little for you to breathe. Shauna's hands grip her knees, steadying herself; "What...what has-" you get up and expand your chest to make air flow freely from your lungs. "I don't know...". Some minutes after, your bain tries to rationalize everything that happened. "It was probably nothing. We were-" you swallow your saliva, "It was dark. We were just a bit scared and prob...probably mistoke a cat for a ghost or person" you hope that is the thruth. "You are right..." Shauna gets close to you, pressing her head on your shoulder. "The next time...we will watch a movie...".

After your little adventure, you and Shauna have spent the rest of the night in your room watching movies -strictly comedy, no horror- and she has fallen asleep on you. You have reminded yourself to ask for her forgivness in the morning, and to promise her that you'll never have any of these ideas ever.

You are about to dooze off, when you see something move. The street lights outside of your window shine on the roadway; just behind it, near a tree, a pair of yellow eyes watch you. It's too small to be a human; a small black cat jumps out of the grass and runs away. You let out a exhale of relief and close your eyes, almost missing the hand waving at you from the darkness.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 24 ~ Good Mourning

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 6.1k

In this chapter ~ An unexpected death occurs, leaving everyone heartbroken for the man's fate. However, the group decides to honor his last wishes, leaving Randall alive though they would still take him far away from the others to ensure everyone remained safe. Though it proves to be more difficult than they had planned as the man had seemed to escape. But the whole thing left a pit in Rose's stomach as she couldn't help but form distrust from a certain man whose face was written in suspicion.

After an hour or two had passed and the sun was finally gone, Daryl got up and left, saying he was going to help Rick and Shane take care of Randall before the chance was gone.

But the thing was, I was doing exactly what Dale said we would all be doing, hiding out in the tent in hopes I could forget the events happening just a few hundred feet away from me. Cowering away as if that would ease myself about the situation at all. I had only been sitting there for a few minutes, my leg bouncing from the anxiety and my mind racing at the possible things that could go wrong. Distracting myself with things around the space wasn't helping, in fact it was only driving me more wild if that were even possible.

The book I had originally picked up to read wasn't doing much, none of the words sticking with me as I only seemed to scan the pages with my eyes. My sketchbook wasn't a good option either, not being able to come up with a single new idea to draw as there was a physical cloud towering over my head. It was useless.

Eventually, I couldn't take sitting there any longer by myself, so I got up to my feet and headed outside the tent to take a walk and stretch my legs for a while. I slowly headed in the direction towards the field where Daryl and I had talked just a few moments ago, enjoying the silence and somewhat peaceful night, a few crickets chirping softly in the background.

But I paused suddenly and slowed down when I spotted a figure walking a good distance away from me, only squinting my eyes momentarily to see it was Dale seemingly doing the same thing I was. Taking a walk far from the shed. My steps stopped for a moment as I debated with myself if I should go up to him or not. Would he want to talk to me? Probably not, I had just argued with him over something he was so sure about, and I knew that it hurt him.

So I decided to just leave him be as I turned myself to move in the opposite direction. Though right as I was about to step away, I stopped again when I saw something slowly sneaking up on him from just behind his back. The realization hit me quickly that it was a lone walker and he had yet to hear it and turn around.

I broke out into a sprint without a second thought, getting out one of my knives to throw at it before it could reach him. I wanted to stop and aim at the dead thing, but it was too dark, and I was still too far away, so I just kept running. But the walker was only getting closer, inching its way further before I even had a chance at reaching him. And Dale still hadn't flinched, had hardly moved a muscle as he somehow didn't hear the noise creeping up behind him, and I panicked.

"Dale! Move now!" I yelled at him.

He turned around swiftly upon hearing my voice, his eyes widening once he finally saw the monster, beginning to fumble with the shotgun in his hands to fire. But he wasn't fast enough. The walker landed on top of him in an instant, a gunshot firing not a second later as the man's finger no doubt hovered over the trigger, before he let out a loud and deafening scream. That only made me run faster, pushing myself further even though my lungs started to burn, and my legs wanted to give out. He couldn't die. No way in hell.

He kept screaming in fear and pain as I finally got close enough to throw my knife directly towards the walkers head, just barely striking it towards the right side before it fell limp on top of him immediately. I ran the rest of the way over to him, shoving the body off of him before letting out a gasp of shock at what I saw before me. He was laying flat on his back in excruciating pain, as the walker somehow managed to tear his stomach open to shreds.

How could it have happened so fast? His blood was spilling out and coating his white shirt so quickly and drastically, it was all so hard to comprehend as I couldn't peel my eyes away from him.

My hands instinctively went up to cover my mouth, getting down to his level quickly to try and calm his heavy and panicked breathing. His eyes were wide as he couldn't even speak, the pain being too unbearable to even try. But my head turned around quickly over my shoulder, hearing the others shouting and rushing towards us through the tall grass blindly with flashlights in their hands as they tried to spot us.

"Over here! Guys!" I yelled as I stood back up, waving my hands to flag them down.

Once I saw the flashlights heading closer to us, I knelt down on the ground by Dale's head again, starting to whisper reassuring things to him in the calmest voice I could muster. But even he could tell how hard I was trying, how hard I was pretending that everything was going to be okay.

Daryl was the first one to make it over and he stood over us there in shock for a few seconds before kneeling down right beside me, telling Dale to hang in there.

Then almost everyone seemed to come over all at once. Rick, Shane, Lori, Carl, Glenn, Andrea, and Carol all looked at Dale in horror seeing the state that he was left in. They were all frantic as they stood there with wide eyes, Rick freaking out the most out of everyone as he snapped to the first person he saw.

"Hershel! Get Hershel!" Rick yelled.

Andrea was on Dale's other side in an instant, holding his hand as she sobbed. I felt warm tears start to pool in my eyes as well, looking down at him with nothing but regret forming in my stomach. I should've thrown my knife sooner, but I was too far away. I should've yelled sooner, but he barely heard me to begin with. On instinct, I grabbed Dale's other hand as my tears began to fall and I bowed my head, while Hershel seemed to get here in only a matter of a few minutes. Probably seeing how frantic and panicked Glenn was as he was the one to rush back towards the house.

"What can we do?" Rick asked desperately.

I heard nothing from the older man as he pondered about what to do, but in the back of my mind I already knew the answer. I sighed and gripped his hand tighter, feeling Daryl begin to rub my back from next to me although I could barely feel a thing. Barely hear a thing other than the slight ringing in my ears, the adrenaline beginning to wear off as my hands slightly shook.

"Can we move him?" Rick asked when Hershel didn't respond.

He only shook his head, "He won't make the trip." he muttered.

"We have to do the operation here, Glenn get back to the house!" Rick yelled.

"Rick!" Hershel yelled to get his attention. When I didn't hear him say anything else, I looked back up just in time to see him shaking his head with a sad expression, telling us that there was nothing we could do. Cries began to erupt from all around us as the realization sunk in, knowing what we would have to do next, slowly breaking my heart at just the thought. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, how I wish we could've been closer, or how I wish we hadn't argued as much in the end. How I wished we would've just listened to him and his reasons, instead of this all unfolding instead.

"I'm so sorry Dale, I'm so sorry." I whispered, knowing it was all I could think of to say to him.

He was in so much pain he didn't respond, but he tried his best to form a smile and squeezed my hand in reassurance. Though it didn't last long as he cried out once more at the sensation, tears reforming in the corners of his eyes as he tried not to yell too loudly.

"He's suffering, we have to do something." Andrea pleaded as her gaze snapped back and forth between him and everyone else surrounding the scene.

Rick turned back to us and let out a shaky breath, struggling to take out his gun and aim it at Dale's head. He couldn't bring himself to do it and I understood completely. How could you even prepare for something like this, shooting a man we all cared deeply for just for him to finally be at peace. It was horrible. I then suddenly felt Daryl's hand leave my back as he slowly stood up to walk over towards Rick. He gently took the gun out of his hold with a nod and took his place silently instead, pointing the gun towards his head. Dale started to look up to see what was happening, but I quickly stopped him.

"No, no Dale, look at me. Just look at me." I said as I squeezed his hand again.

His gaze panned over at me, his breathing still heavy and his mouth agape. I didn't want him to be looking at the thing that was about to end his life. I could tell he was thankful for a lot of things in that moment, but most of all I think he was thankful to not have to suffer any longer, and not have to go through it alone. I kept my eyes on him the whole time, not being able to look away.

"Sorry brother." I heard Daryl say, a single gunshot following only seconds later.

His hand fell limp in mine in a split second and couldn't help the heavy breath that passed my lips as I ducked my head back down towards the ground. A part of me was grateful that he didn't have to suffer anymore, not just now, but in this world. He wouldn't have to fear anything ever again. He was at peace.

But that didn't make it any less painful for the rest of us. Gathering the strength to pick my head back up, I glanced back to them, seeing the broken and guilty looks on their faces, all of us having a moment of silence for the man we all grew to care about.

After witnessing the many depressing events, it only caused a very long and restless night. I couldn't fall asleep, whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was Dale suffering and screaming. Replaying over and over again in my mind. It was horrible, traumatizing for us all to watch him slowly pass, leaving only the burning image behind our eyelids. Daryl couldn't seem to fall asleep either with the way he constantly moved, and I couldn't even imagine how he was feeling. Being the one to put Dale down himself, it was surely weighing him down more than he let on.

We didn't say anything the whole night, though we both knew the other was awake. We just simply laid there huddled close to one another, listening to the calmness of the night. Both of us seemed to have a mutual understanding that we didn't feel like talking. We were just simply there for each other in silence, and right now that's all we needed.

But the next morning seemed even harder. That's when we had the ceremony for Dale, and all of us gathered around to listen and mourn the loss of someone else. It seemed like just a few days ago we were in the same small circle, gathered around for Sophia as we said our final goodbye. Now having to do it all over again in such a short span of time, it was a lot.

I tried my hardest to listen to Rick's words as he spoke about him but I couldn't seem to stay focused, spacing in and out, letting my mind wander while the guilt slowly ate away at me. I knew I shouldn't keep blaming myself for the losses we seemed to take, but how could I not? How could I not when I always felt like I could've done more.

The only thing I managed to hear Rick say is that we would honor Dale, and prove that this group isn't broken. I had a feeling I knew what he meant by that without him having to say anything else. Randall was going to live. At this point I didn't really care what we did with him anymore because of how much had happened. How much damage that one man had caused when he didn't even step one foot out of that shed.

After Rick was done speaking and minutes of complete silence passed over us, people slowly began to disperse back towards the house. Taking it upon themselves to process this in their own way. I picked my head up after a moment, glancing around to everyone who was left, and pausing when I saw Glenn. He stood completely still, staring longingly at Dale's grave with reddened eyes, more tears only building up and threatening to spill.

It hurt to look at him, to see how much it was affecting him. Everyone could easily see that Dale had grown to be a father figure towards Glenn, and the loss was only taking a toll on him in unimaginable ways.

Daryl hadn't moved from his place right next to me the whole time, even as the remaining people stood in silence, but I felt him subtly nudge my arm after a while. My eyes glanced back up to him enough to see him briefly nod his head away from the remainder of the group so we could talk. I followed him wordlessly as he walked in front of me, wanting to get away from all the depressing shit that seemed to follow us like the goddamn plague. But I knew in the back of my mind no matter how much I wanted to escape it; it would somehow always be there.

The two of us got a good distance away from everyone else, before he finally turned around to face me again, "You doin okay?" he hesitatnly asked.

I nodded my head silently, knowing that if I opened my mouth to try and speak, the floodgates would only open once more. During the whole small ceremony I didn't cry, not because I didn't want to, but because I was embarrassed. I was tired of crying, and I was especially tired of crying in front of Daryl. Somehow always managing to catch my not so great moments.

"Say somethin." he spoke in a soft voice.

Closing my eyes with a deep sigh, I muttered, "I'm okay."

But my voice cracking towards the end, just proved how much I wasn't okay. Not in the slightest. That's all it took and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face like a fucking dam that broke instantly. But upon seeing this, he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around me tightly in a hug, rubbing my back reassuringly. I let out a breath as I buried my face into his chest, crying quietly as I finally let everything out that I had been holding back. His chin rested on top of my head, his soothing voice echoing around the silent space.

"I know, I know. It's gonna be alright." he spoke softly.

I wanted to believe him more than anything even though the hope I once had was slowly dimming, I still nodded my head regardless.

After a few moments of being a complete mess, I got control of my breathing and was able to pull my head away to actually look him in the eye. He studied me with an emotion I couldn't quite figure out, although I could tell he was still worried. He was so incredibly patient with me, it amazed me.

"Thanks." I whispered as I wiped my cheeks.

He shook his head, "Ya don't gotta thank me. I just want ya to be okay." he said sadly.

"I will be," I reassured him, "I just need some time...and like...a shot of whiskey or something." I half joked with a breathy laugh.

He chuckled quietly before nodding his head in agreement, "You and me both." he said, "I was supposed ta go out with Shane, Andrea, and T-Dog to check the perimeter, but...I can stay if ya need me to."

"No, no it's okay. I'll be okay." I waved him off.

"Ya sure?" he asked.

I nodded my head, "Go check the perimeter, I'll see you later, yeah?"

He nodded with a small smile on his face, quickly looking behind me just past my head to see if anyone could see us, before pulling me into a gentle kiss. I gladly kissed him back, feeling my heart quicken at the softness of his lips. He then pulled back after a moment or two, and started kissing lightly all over my face until I let out a quiet laugh, attempting to push him away at the tickling feeling it left.

"Ah, music to my ears." he said with a full on proud smile.

My heart began to warm at his words, kissing him once more before we began to walk back towards the house side by side.

As the house began to come into view, Daryl squeezed my hand briefly before heading off towards the vehicles where the others were waiting for him. I found myself glancing around the farm after he left, scanning the area to try and figure out a way to pass some time without having to linger on the new loss too much. My eyes then landed on the pretty pink curtains flowing out of Beth's room, her window open to let in the slight breeze.

I felt myself smile as I made my way up the porch and into the house to head up to her room, wanting to check up on her. It had been a little bit since I had last seen her and I wanted to make sure she was doing better since the last time we spoke.

For the most part she stayed in her room, especially since every single discussion we would have about Randall, the kids weren't allowed to be in the room. It's not that we didn't want them to have an opinion on the matter, but we also didn't want them to have to hear every single thing that was said. Because believe me when Shane opened his mouth, it got ugly.

But other than that she would only come down for meals and to just get out of her room briefly every once and a while. Mostly keeping to herself after everything.

As I came up the last few steps, I saw her sitting down on the edge of her bed with the guitar in her hands, practicing a few chords I had taught her. I smiled a little to myself and approached the slightly opened door quietly, knocking a few times to bring her attention towards me.

She looked up and an instant smile broke onto her face, "Hi Rose."

"Hi hon." I greeted as I passed through the threshold.

Her smile slightly faltered when I entered the room further, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of her bed as she tilted her head a little towards me. "How're you doing?" she asked quietly.

I gave her a confused look, "I should be asking how you're doing."

She waved me off, "I'm okay, I promise. I was just asking you because you know... Dale. I can see how hard it's been on you guys."

"Oh." I muttered quietly with a nod, "I'm doing better, you're too sweet to check on me."

She smiled and reached out to grab my hand lightly, "You've practically been looking out for me since you got here...I want to look out for you too."

"I think that was the other way around. You were looking after me when I was shot, remember?" I asked.

"Well yeah, but I'm talking about after that." she said with a light laugh.

I smiled at her, "Well, I guess we just like looking out for each other, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess we do. And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon." she said, giving my hand a soft squeeze.

My heart warmed at her words, "Me either, hon." I said before glancing back towards the guitar that was now on the other side of the bed, not wanting to get all emotional again after the morning I already had. "You think you're ready for another lesson?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up "Yes!" she said, reaching over to grab the object quickly.

I began to teach her two more chords that were a little more difficult than last time, watching her struggle a little with it at first before she excelled. She was truly a natural when it came to this stuff, knowing in the back of my mind that it took me weeks to learn the things she's practically mastered in just a few days. Though she practiced a lot, I could tell that somehow this was her calling; music.

I also couldn't ignore the obvious progress she was making, not only in learning the new instrument, but also with how she was mentally. She seemed to be lighter than before, a little bit of life returning to her eyes when she looked at me that wasn't always there before. Even though she still seemed to be having a rough time with everything all at once, progress was still progress. And I couldn't have been more proud of her.

After practicing for far longer than either of us intended, there was a sudden knock at the door that made us both turn around towards the doorway to see Carl. Except the look he had on his face almost made me do a double take. His stance came off as nervous and jittery as he lingered in the doorway, not taking a single step inside as his eyes went back and forth between the two of us.

"Hey kid...what's up?" I asked a bit hesitantly.

"Uh..." he trailed off, looking towards Beth before back to me, "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked me.

I nodded my head, slightly concerned, "Yeah," I said before turning back to Beth, "I guess we'll stop here for today, just keep practicing that one chord and we can go over more tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Yeah, I'd really love that. Thanks Ro." she said with a smile.

I nodded before getting off the bed, heading towards where Carl was standing. He didn't hesitate to grab my hand quickly and pull me out of the room and down the steps, almost causing me to trip. He didn't stop or pause until we were outside and far enough away from everyone else so no one could hear the conversation we were about to have. I was only growing more concerned than before as I watched him try to find the words to say to me.

"Carl?" I said to get his attention, "What's wrong?"

He sighed before slowly reaching behind his back, pulling out a gun that I recognized. It was Daryl's. He handed it over to me wordlessly and looked anywhere but my eyes.

"Where did you find this?" I asked him, seeing if he would tell me the truth.

"I...I took it from Daryl's bag." he muttered, his eyes staring down at his shoes.

Though when I didn't respond or say anything at all, he took a chance and looked back up at me. I could easily see the tears building up in his eyes as he admitted that, thinking I would be mad, but I easily could tell there was something else on his conscience. Something else that made my face instantly soften upon seeing him so upset yet trying desperately to keep it together.

I got down to his level to look him in the eye, "That's not it, I can tell. Talk to me kid." I said in a soft voice.

He then broke down, "Rose it's all my fault, it's my fault Dale died!" he cried, "I was out in the woods when I saw a walker that was stuck in the mud. I wanted to shoot it with the gun but then it got free, and I didn't kill it. It was the same walker that killed Dale. I recognized it, I got Dale killed!"

At this point my eyes were wide and he was a sobbing mess. It took me a second to process everything he had just told me, but I quickly put the gun on the ground beside me and placed both of my hands on the side of his face to wipe his tears away.

"Hey, hey, you did not get Dale killed. You hear me? None of us could've known what was going to happen, this was not your fault." I said in a soft voice.

More tears fell from his eyes, "But-"

"No, no buts." I interrupted, "You were not the cause of that. Please do not blame yourself, okay?"

He looked at me for a moment before nodding his head and quickly wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I let out a breath as I hugged him back just as tight, wanting to do anything I could to keep him from blaming himself about Dale. I knew the feeling all too well and it wasn't a good habit to be picked up, and I could only imagine what it would do to someone his age. He was still just a kid.

He sniffled as he slowly let go of me, "Can you...please not tell my parents? They would kill me if they knew what I did." he pleaded.

I shook my head, "Carl, they have to know what happened. You had a gun." I said, watching his face drop drastically at the fear of getting into trouble. "Listen...I won't say anything to them, but that means you have to tell them yourself. Deal?"

He thought about silently it for a moment as he bit his lip in thought, before agreeing, "Deal." he said with a nod.

I nodded in return as I adjusted the hat on top of his head, my hand then landing on the side of his face to wipe any remaining tears that still stained his cheeks. But my comfort only seemed to make his lip quiver, wrapping his arms around me again as a clear weight was lifted off of him.

"Thanks for listening to me." he whispered gratefully.

"Anytime kid." I said before letting him go, "I'm always right here when you need me." I assured, brushing some of the hair away from his face.

He nodded before slowly heading back off towards the house. I watched him walk away for a moment before sighing to myself, looking back down to the ground and picking up the missing gun before I made my way back to our camp to put it back with his things. In the back of my mind I knew he probably noticed his weapon had been missing for a while, but I wouldn't make Carl tell him like I wanted him to tell his parents. The kid was always watching him with wide eyes as if he was slightly intimidated by him, and I didn't want to kill him or anything.

Though when I walked in the tent to put it back, I quickly noticed that he, along with the others, weren't back yet. Probably still circling around the property to make sure all the lingering walkers were being taken care of. With nothing else really to do to pass the time, I figured I would finally finish the painting of the house while I still had the chance. The weather was only getting colder now so I wanted to use as much time outside as I could.

I also just needed to distract and calm myself, and painting sounded the most relaxing to me right now. So I picked up my things and made my way back to the spot that I seemed to have claimed over the weeks, sitting back down to examine the house for what could be the last time. I worked quietly by myself as I finished up the small details with the paintbrush, a few others moving their belongings, walking in and out of the house catching my eye.

Just a few days ago, Hershel announced that he would allow all of us to move into their house for the winter considering it was getting a bit too cold to keep sleeping outside. It was very nice of him to offer, but I knew it was going to be jam packed in that place. There were a lot of us and not a lot of room the house had left to offer, but it was still better than freezing our asses off.

My thoughts stopped short however when I saw Maggie walk out through the screen door, before a small smile traced her lips as she began to walk over to me.

She took a seat beside me with a huff, "How're you doing babe?" she asked.

I looked at her with raised brows, "Babe? What are we official now?" I joked.

She laughed and shook her head, "Sorry, I used to call my friends that before everything. I don't have to if you don't wan-"

"No, it's okay." I assured and gave her a smile, "And I'm doing about as okay as I can be. How about you?"

She sighed, "I'm doing fine, it's just...I know Glenn was close to him. I feel awful watching him grieve and I wish I could do something to help him."

"We all just need some time to process it. It was a lot...I know it's going to be hard to move on, but we will." I replied.

She nodded her head in agreement, "Yeah, we will."

A few hours had passed in a flash before the group finally made it back from trailing across the whole acre, the day only feeling like it was dragging on and on. But the second they made it back, Rick wasted no time grabbing Daryl to take Randall out and get it over with before the day was over. And of course Shane had to run his mouth about that. Not only at the fact that we were now sparing this man's life, but also because Rick trusted Daryl more than he did his best friend. But again, they weren't exactly close like that anymore, in fact they were only drifting further.

But Randall, we weren't going to kill him, but we still didn't trust him enough to let him stay here, even if it was what Dale wanted, to give him a chance. We couldn't risk it. None of us really knew him and none of us wanted to know him, we just wanted him gone.

I stood on the porch next to Rick and Daryl, listening to their plan on where they were going to take him as  they looked down at their map. T-Dog had offered to go get him after he overheard part of their conversation, heading towards the shed in a flash. They had a truck loaded up right in front of us and everything, going on and on about how many miles they should drive out to make sure he wasn't coming back.

"You guys sure you don't want me to come with?" I asked suddenly.

"No." they both voiced at the same time without even missing a beat.

My eyes widened as I scoffed at the two of them, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned up against the white pillar, "Damn alright then, might as well put me on a leash while you're at it."

Rick chuckled and only gave me an amused smile, "Why would we put you on a leash?" he asked.

"Because you're both pretty controlling about this." I pointed out.

Daryl only scoffed as he began to fold up the map in his hands, "We just want ya safe, dar-" he started, but immediately stopped himself.

My eyes widened as I looked at him from just behind Rick's head, pressing my lips together to hold back the laugh I almost let out. Daryl's cheeks burned a bright red, and I could tell he was kicking himself for slipping up though he tried to just brush it off as he cleared his throat awkwardly. Rick looked at the man with a tilt of his head, attempting to say something, but T-Dog's voice thankfully cut through the painful silent air.

"He's gone!" the man yelled.

My eyes widened. I froze, genuinely wondering if I had heard him right. Oh but I did, Rick and Daryl's panicked expressions only resembled my own.

In a split second, the three of us didn't hesitate to take off down the porch, jogging across the large field to see for ourselves. T-Dog only followed close behind us, running beside us just as frantically as he didn't even have enough time to process the sudden sight himself. The door was open only a crack as we approached it, pushing it all the way open to see the shed completely empty, the handcuffs that were once on his wrists were still chained up and perfectly intact.

My mouth parted in shock as I scanned the small space top to bottom for any kind of indication on how he escaped, but found none. It seemed almost impossible.

The rest of the group was quick to spot us all lingering by the shed, only assuming the worst as they fanned out of the house to join us and see what the hell was going on. They all approached loudly, asking us question after question when we knew just as little as they did. Though I couldn't pull myself to listen to any of them as I racked my brain as to how he managed to get out of here when the door was locked from the outside. How he was able to slip his hands through metal handcuffs that were meant to keep anyone and everyone put right where they were.

There was no blind spot, no loose wooden board, no nothing. None of it made any sense, and it only caused everyone around us to panic.

"Rick! Rick!" a sudden voice screamed from the trees just beside us.

Everyone's heads whipped around at the same time towards the sound to see Shane making his way out of the woods, blood dripping heavily from his nose. His steps were heavy and fast as he made his way over to us, smoke coming out of his ears with how angry he looked.

"What the hell happened?" I yelled.

"He's armed, he's got my gun!" he said as his pace only sped up.

Carl then spoke up, "Are you okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

He shook his head, "I'm fine, the little bastard just snuck up on me and clocked me in the face." he responded.

Rick then turned around to the rest of us, "Alright Hershel, T-Dog, get everyone back in the house. Glenn, Daryl, Rose, come with us." he quickly instructed without a second thought.

I stepped up immediately, taking the gun Glenn was handing over and opening the chamber to check the bullets as the rest of them spoke behind me.

"T, I'm gonna need that gun." Shane said.

"Just let him go, that was the plan wasn't it? To just let him go?" Carol asked.

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun." Rick snapped.

"No, don't go out there you don't know what can happen." Carol argued, genuine fear and concern filling her entire being.

But Rick only ignored her, knowing we couldn't just let this go. "Get everyone back in the house, lock all the doors, and stay put!"

Once Rick stepped forward to move, the rest of us followed right after that, walking right into the danger zone it seemed like from how serious this became. Zero to one hundred in just a matter of a minute.

But Shane looked back at me suddenly from his place next to Rick, locking his eyes with mine, and the sight was enough to send goosebumps rising on my skin. Though I held his gaze, trying not to show what had just happened, but he caught on quicker than I would've liked, the small smirk on his face instantly gave him away.

From the lone feeling I had, just by merely looking him in the eye, I could tell instantly that something wasn't right. Like something bad was about to happen.

~ Thanks for reading!

(Merry late Christmas!)