#at the beggining when i wanted to be above everything

[righteousdelusions]

One year ago in a fit of rage I ended a long distance relationship, and you guys all know how hard that was for me. But at least the playlist was fire 🤪

[rafesbimbo]

idk if you'd like it but could you do like a pastors daughter!reader with mean or sexist!rafe and she's just so dumb and clueless abt the world and he loves it and how 'pure' she is ?

going thru major catholic guild rn and feel like you'd eat this tf upp ! 🙏

-౨ৎ

warnings: fingering, dirty talk, praise, slight power imbalance, public/semi-public setting (implied), consensual sexual touching, dom!rafe

a/n: as a fellow preachers daughter, this is one of my best requests!!

“you don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

rafe’s voice was low as he leaned against the truck, watching you squirm under his gaze. your dress was too sweet, too white, your lip caught between your teeth like you were nervous just standing near him.

you shook your head, voice soft. “i didn’t mean to do anything."

he smirked, tilting his head. “that’s the thing, angel. you don’t have to mean it. you just show up in your sunday best with those big eyes, actin’ like the world’s some storybook.”

you shifted, unsure whether to be offended or… flattered. something about the way he looked at you made your skin feel too tight. like he knew things you didn’t.

like he wanted to show you.

he stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “bet no one’s ever even kissed you huh?”

you blinked up at him, throat dry. “i—no. not really.”

his smile turned sharp. “course not. they wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

his hand grazed your cheek, knuckles warm and rough. not innocent. not sweet. but you didn’t pull away.

“you want me to show you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t answer. but you didn’t stop him either.

rafe’s fingers slid down your jaw, slow and possessive, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

“thought so,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “you don’t know how pretty you look beggin’ without sayin’ a word.”

you swallowed, heart thudding so loud it drowned out everything else. he was too close. too calm. like he knew exactly what you were going to do before you did it.

“tell me to stop,” he said, but it didn’t sound like a suggestion. it sounded like a test.

you looked up at him, lips parted, breath shaking. but the words didn’t come. you couldn’t lie—not when his touch felt like gravity, like something you’d fall into no matter how hard you tried not to.

his hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling you just close enough for your noses to brush. “didn’t think so,” he said with a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

then he kissed you.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t slow. it was claiming—like he’d been waiting, like he’d known this moment would come and now that it had, he wasn’t about to waste it. your hands gripped the edge of his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

you didn’t push.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, lips tingling, dizzy from the heat of it all.

rafe’s voice was rough when he spoke again. "didn't think you'd like it that much."

you barely had time to breathe before rafe’s mouth was on yours again, rougher this time—more certain.

his hands found your waist, gripping tight, dragging you closer like he was done pretending he could play this slow.

“you’re killin’ me, wearin’ this little thing,” he muttered against your lips, tugging at the hem of your dress. “lookin’ all doll-like”

your head tilted back as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you whimper. your hands clutched his shoulders, your legs brushing his, heat blooming between your thighs like fire catching dry grass.

“rafe…” his name came out like a gasp, like a prayer.

he chuckled darkly, fingers sliding under the edge of your dress. “there she is,” he murmured. “all breathless for me. you this soft for everyone, or just me?”

you didn’t answer—you couldn’t. not with his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, teasing.

“spread your legs, angel,” he whispered, voice low and wicked.

your cheeks burned, heart pounding as you obeyed, trembling under his touch. he slid his fingers higher, finding the thin fabric of your panties soaked through.

“fuck,” he hissed. “you’re drenched. all that from a couple kisses?”

you nodded, helpless. his hand slipped beneath the fabric, middle finger running through your slick folds, and you nearly buckled against him.

“rafe—”

“shh,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours as he circled your clit with slow, practiced strokes. “just take it. let me show you how good it gets.”

you moaned, soft and broken, hips rocking into his hand as pleasure built hot and fast. he watched you the whole time—eyes dark, mouth parted, like he was memorizing every sound you made.

“good girl,” he murmured. “just like that. makin’ a mess all over my fingers.”

and when you finally came, shaking in his arms, he didn’t stop—just held you through it, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “i’m not done with you yet.”

[vcmpbyt]

Waiting for the all-desired face sitting fic for remmick…

† REMMICKxFEM!READER

⊹ A/N; well... its been 25 years.. ITS HERE,, !! this could count as a second part of this drabble ! i'm going through the most insane writers block and everything i write feels repetitive so bare with me remmick nation ;;

⊹ WARNINGS; porn no plot. no distinct descriptions of reader. not proofread at all </3 . ⊹ MASTERLIST

=͟͟͞͞ ✧

his mouth parted, eyes wide and gleaming, the ghost of his own orgasm still twitching through him. sweat glimmered at his temples, his lips were slick, and so was his cock, soft now, resting against his thigh, glistening from the mess you’d made him make. he blinked up at you, already slack jawed and glassy eyed, pupils blown wide with need. remmick looked wrecked- without ever having gotten inside you. “you earned it,” you cooed, dragging the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone, smearing a little of his own spit there. “you did real nice. sat there, touched that cock like i told you, didn’t cum on my couch this time,” you grinned, “reckon you want a taste now, don’tcha?” he nodded so fast it looked like his neck might snap. “yes, ma’am,” he breathed, voice wrecked. his hands slid under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the couch, his breath hitched when he saw how wet you were. it wasn’t subtle- your folds glistened, flushed and needy, your clit swollen from the teasing and the show he’d put on. he dove in like a man starved, his tongue was wide, flat, desperate, licking up your folds with a groan that vibrated into your skin, shooting up your spine and making your thighs twitch. he nuzzled his face in it, the noises getting louder and louder, nose pressing right against your clit. he flattened his tongue against your slit again, dragging it up agonizingly slow. he didn’t suck when he reached your clit, just gave it little kitten licks, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your mouth parted, how your hips shifted forward just a bit. “look at her,” he murmured, lips brushing against your folds as he spoke. “all soaked n’ swollen for me. she’s starvin’, ain’t she? been beggin’ for a mouth like mine.” his tongue darted out again, sloppier this time, licking circles around your clit while two fingers spread you open. he stared at your pussy, letting a line of spit fall from his mouth and land right on your entrance, mixing with the wet already there. “so fuckin’ pretty, so warm- bet she could break my nose if you let her- i’d let her.” you rolled your hips against his mouth then, his nose bumped your clit again as he pushed his tongue into your entrance, and the filthy sound he let out made your cunt flutter around his tongue. “that’s it,” you whispered, fingers tight in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his mouth. “keep goin’. just like that, you make me come, i’ll think about lettin’ you sleep in my bed tonight.” remmick moaned, loud and broken, he redoubled his efforts, tongue fucking into you while one hand moved up to press against your stomach, holding you still. 

you’d lost track of time, lost track of which round of pleasure this had been. you were straddling his chest now, thighs on either side of his head, just far enough above his mouth- a tease. his neck strained, tongue out while his hands dug into the plush of your hips. “let me have it- let me eat it proper, like you deserve- ” your cunt hovered just above his open mouth, and he whimpered at the sight of it- already soaked lips parted. you lowered yourself slowly until the soft, swollen lips of your pussy kissed his mouth. his tongue circled your clit, lapped at your entrance, pushed inside and pulled out again. his hands were everywhere- gripping your ass, pulling you tighter against his face. you rocked your hips just slightly, grinding down on his tongue, and he choked out a moan, hands digging bruises into your thighs as he sucked your clit into his mouth and stayed there, mouth fluttering around it. “ye’r so sweet,” he muttered drunk off your pussy, “fuck- i can’t breathe, and i like it- ” as if he could’ve in the first place. his face was a mess, your arousal smeared across his chin and cheeks, hair stuck to his forehead. his eyes rolled back when your hips started to move faster, you grind down hard against his mouth, your thighs closing around his ears, your hands finding his hair and pulling. he opened his mouth wider, letting you ride his face fully now, tongue dipping into your entrance even deeper. “that’s it, use me,” he slurred, “use me how you want. rub that pretty pussy all over me- fuck- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop- ” you rocked against his mouth faster, feeling the edge building, the tension tightening in your gut with every filthy word he moaned into your cunt, and he could practically smell it. your orgasm hit hard- spine arching. you didn’t even moan- just ground down against his mouth, thighs trembling as you rode his tongue through it, used his filthy, ruined face to come just like he’d begged for while he licked every drop. his face was soaked, cock was leaking against his stomach. when you finally shifted off him he whimpered like a kicked dog.

“did i do good?”

[itsrubesshawty]

Spit it out.

This is set before “Your Pack Alpha and Vampire mate meet about you”

Tw: overdose

The text had come in hours ago.

Just a single word.

“Sorry.”

Sam had stared at it for longer than he wanted to admit, thumb hovering above his screen, jaw clenched. Something about it was wrong. Not just the word—everything. The silence after. The emptiness it carried.

He hadn’t been able to sit still after that.

Now he stood outside Darlin’s apartment, heart in his throat. The scent hit him first—through the wood, through the lock—faint but wrong. Wrong in the way that made his cold blood lurch inside him.

Fear.

He knocked once. No answer.

“Darlin’?” he called, loud enough to echo down the hallway.

Still nothing.

He didn’t wait after that. He shoved the door open.

It wasn’t just the smell. It was the stillness. Everything inside felt frozen—like time had stopped, like the world had paused in the middle of a scream.

“Darlin’!”

He found them in the bathroom.

On the floor. Slumped against the side of the tub. A puddle of sick soaking into their shirt. A half-empty bottle of cheap liquor on the counter. Pill bottles scattered across the tile like bones.

Sam’s heart stopped. Then roared to life.

He was on the floor beside them in seconds, hands shaking as he cradled the back of their head. “Hey—hey, hey, breathe, come on, you’re okay, stay with me—”

Darlin’ coughed, a wet, broken sound, and more bile splattered down their front. Their whole body trembled, weak and limp in his arms.

“No—n-no, Sam—” Their voice cracked, hoarse and slurred. “Don’t… don’t tell David—please—please don’t tell him—”

“Shhh. Shhh, don’t do that,” Sam whispered, holding the back of their neck, fingers glowing with barely restrained healing magic. “Don’t waste breath beggin’ me, you’re okay—you’re okay—I’ve got you—”

“I didn’t mean to,” Darlin choked out. “I just… I wanted it to stop. Just for a minute.”

Sam’s heart shattered in slow motion.

The magic pulsed from his palms into their spine—gentle, like warm water washing over frayed nerves. Not enough to burn through the pain, but enough to steady them. Enough to keep their heart from giving out.

They gagged again, and he held them upright while their body purged what it could. When it passed, they collapsed into his chest, breath shallow and uneven.

“Don’t tell him,” they whispered again, barely audible. “He’ll hate me. He’ll think I’m weak.”

Sam gritted his teeth, rage burning behind his ribs—not at them, never at them—but at the world, at the people who made Darlin’ believe that pain made them lesser. That survival was something shameful.

“I’m not gonna tell him,” he said, softer now. “Not unless you want me to. This isn’t about David. This is about you.”

They whimpered—just a small, wounded sound—and Sam pulled them closer, sitting back against the wall and letting them curl into him.

“I’m sorry,” they said again, voice breaking.

“Stop apologizin’. You’re not a crime scene. You’re not broken.” His fingers threaded through their hair, brushing back sweat and tears. “You’re just tired. And fuck, I get it. But don’t scare me like that again, Darlin’. Please.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

That broke something inside him.

He let out a breath like a punch to the chest, leaned down, pressed his forehead to theirs. “You texted me one word and I ran here like the goddamn building was on fire. You think I wouldn’t come?”

“I don’t know,” they whispered. “Sometimes I think people only stay when I’m doing okay. When I’m easy to love.”

Sam exhaled slowly, struggling to keep his voice level. “You’re not easy to love right now. You’re hard to love, Darlin’. But I’m still here. Not ‘cause you’re perfect, not ‘cause you’re calm or quiet or fixed. I’m here because you’re you.”

Silence fell between them. Thick. Heavy. Honest.

Darlin’ shifted, fingers curled into the front of his shirt like they were still falling. “My head hurts,” they muttered, eyes half-lidded.

“Yeah. That’ll happen when you take a bunch of shit that was never meant to be in your system.” He let his hand hover over their stomach, breath steadying. “I’m gonna heal you. More this time. It’s gonna feel like you’re burning from the inside for a second, but it’ll flush the rest out. You with me?”

A slow nod.

Then the glow intensified.

Darlin’ tensed in his arms, gasped. A rush of warmth and pressure tore through them like wildfire, and they cried out, gripping him tighter. He whispered through it, grounding them, anchoring them. His voice was low, steady, even when his own eyes stung.

It passed. Eventually.

Their body went limp again—lighter now, less sick. Just… empty.

“Sam…” Their voice was thinner now. Fragile. “If I hadn’t texted you…”

“Don’t,” he cut in, eyes sharp. “Don’t say it. You did text me. And I came. That’s what matters.”

Darlin’ blinked, tears welling again. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.”

Sam stared at them, unblinking. “Deal with you?”

“Like this. Messed up. Scared. Crying on the bathroom floor.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Darlin’, I’d take a hundred nights like this over a single day where I don’t know if you’re okay.”

They buried their face in his chest again.

And this time, he didn’t say anything. He just held them, until their breathing evened out, until their hands stopped shaking, until the apartment smelled more like healing than blood and shame.

Until they believed—for even just a moment—that they were allowed to fall apart without being left behind.

[thedykeparade]

Wyatt Russell's performance in Thunderbolts* is so insanely good, and I think maybe it goes a bit unnoticed because it's more subtle (by this I mean that besides him yelling at Bob in the vault or his void flashback he doesn't get any big emotional moments like Florence, Lewis and even David do) but he really is SO good, we need to talk about it more.

He nails all of it. The funny, the sarcasm, the bitterness and the anger but also how broken John is and the guilt and regret he feels. And then there are the little moments where the best parts of him come out and you can see that he is actually capable of being a caring, empathetic person (protecting his teammates, knocking out bob's dad in the void, sharing the cactus berries, not arguing with Yelena because he knows she is lashing out and trying to tell her to go easy on her dad).

AND THEN there are the moments where you realize what he has is not just a desperate need for validation but a deep desire to belong. I think that's why in the beggining he can't accept that Valentina wanted him dead. I mean, it's not like she was his friend or anything but at least someone wanted him for something, he was useful to someone.

The guy lost his best friend and then lost basically everything else. (And yes, a lot of it was his own fault but the point still stands, in fact, I think it's even more heartbreaking because he knows it's his fault). He acts like he is above everyone else because he felt the rejection of the entire world but when he lets his guard down it's so obvious that he could really use a friend 😭.

That scene with the girls in the back of the truck, the way he shows them his gun and asks if they like his helmet, he almost sounds like a little kid trying to make friends talking about the things he likes 🥺.

...Anyways, I wanted to make an appreciation post for Wyatt and ended up rambling about John Walker and now I don't know how to conclude it. So that's is it i guess 😭.

[autrytonic]

Before I Break

18 + / MDNI

Content • Arthur Morgan, fem!reader, cunnilingus, edging, LH Arthur if you squint

Author's Note • Can y'all tell I've been on an LH binge lately? Somethin' about a good man going bad makes me stomach knot up somethin' fierce. I hope y'all are enjoying my recent influx of dominant, dark, and passive energy— I have really enjoyed channeling it into my writing! Enjoy, dolls 🤍

You don’t even remember how it started.

Maybe it was the way you looked at him with that longing gaze while rinsing off in the river earlier, or the way your thighs shifted curtly under your skirt at dinner.

Whatever it was, it set something off in Arthur.

Now you’re back in his tent, flat on your back against his cot, wrists pinned above your head by one of his strong hands, your legs spread wide and shaking as he hovers between them—completely clothed, in contrast to your vulnerable state.

“You think I didn’t notice you teasin’ me all damn day?” he growls low, dragging his tongue slow and firm over your inner thigh. “Flashin’ me that little smile like you don’t know what you’re doin’.”

You whimper, already slick and swollen, desperate for friction. He’s barely touched you and you’re already ready to fall apart.

His mouth brushes your clit, just barely—just enough to make your back arch. But then he pulls back again, chuckling as you groan in frustration.

“Aw, not yet,” he says. “You think you get to come just ‘cause you’re drippin’? Nah, darlin’. Not tonight.”

His fingers trail up your slit, featherlight. When he finds your clit again, he rubs it in slow, maddening circles—never quite enough pressure to tip you over.

“You’re already so close, ain’t ya?” he murmurs. “All soaked and twitchy. Poor thing.”

You nod frantically, panting. “Arthur, please—”

“Uh-uh,” he cuts you off, sliding two thick fingers inside of you just as slow as everything else. “You’ll take what I give you. And you’ll wait for it.”

His fingers curl deep, hitting that spot that makes your hips jerk. His palm grinds perfectly against your clit as he builds a steady rhythm—and for a moment, you really think he’s going to finally put you out of your misery.

Your moans pick up, breath hitching, muscles coiling—

And then he stops.

Just pulls out.

You cry out, thighs trembling violently. “No, no, no—Arthur—!”

He slaps your thigh lightly, shushing you with a smirk. “You’re not comin’ till I say so, girl. You understand me?”

You nod desperately, legs kicking uselessly against the cot.

“Good.”

He does it again. And again.

Each time he works you to the edge, reading your body like it’s a map, waiting for the exact second you’re about to crumble— then snatching it away, leaving you gasping and aching and soaked.

“Damn, look at you,” he growls, running his thumb through the slick mess between your thighs. “You’re throbbin’, beggin’, squirming like a bitch in heat.”

You whimper his name, hips bucking up, completely wrecked.

“You ready to beg for it?” he murmurs, hovering just over your mouth now. “Ready to tell me what a needy little thing you are?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tears in your eyes from the frustration. “Please, Arthur, I need it. I need to come so bad it hurts—”

“That’s more like it,” he purrs, voice gravelly with satisfaction. “You just sayin’ that, or you really mean it?”

“I mean it,” you sob, hips rocking against air. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—”

He groans, finally releasing your wrists so he can slide back down between your legs. He doesn’t waste another second—his mouth is on your clit, tongue relentless, fingers pumping into you hard and fast now.

The orgasm crashes over you like a wave—blinding, shattering, violent. You scream into the crook of your arm, whole body locking up as your release floods his hand.

“Atta girl,” he growls, still working you through it. “That’s what I wanted. Look at this mess. Look at what I did to you.”

When you finally come down, gasping and limp, he leans up and kisses you—hot and slow.

“Next time,” he whispers against your mouth, “I’m gonna see how many times I can stop you before you break.”

taglist • @photo1030 , @stottlemorgan ,

@rope-and-ride-me-cowboah , @fxndxm-axg

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16 @brianna-merlim @staley83 @oceanticspace @insaneintheemembranev2 @dummylovewp @xmiaacxio @meyukoo @grilka @itsgivingdepression @timebomb1101 @inejghafasdagger @koshkahhh @juliperezsilveira @pandaofsilentdeath @straw--b3rry

-------------------------------------------

TW: Cussing, Walkers (Zombies), tension, kidnapping, helplessness, coercion, lecherous behavior, predatory behavior, angst, Negan is a Villan, SA (Implied, offscreen), panic attack.

Part 45

Dead Weight - Part 46

The gates of Alexandria swing open, and Daryl feels something in his chest ease for the first time in weeks. Home. Or as close to home as anywhere could be these days.

But the relief is short-lived when he looks at you walking beside him, your shoulders hunched inward, eyes darting around like you're expecting an attack from every shadow.

She ain't the same, he thinks, jaw clenching. Hell, she ain't been the same since that night she threw herself over me, beggin' for my life. The memory makes his stomach turn.

He should've protected you.

Should've been stronger, faster, better.

Instead, your paying the price for his failures.

Glen is the first to spot you both, his face lighting up with relief and joy. "Oh thank God, you're both okay!" He rushes forward, arms outstretched for his usual enthusiastic hug.

But you flinch so hard you nearly stumble backward, your hands coming up defensively. "No—don't—sorry, I just—" Your voice cracks, and you wrap your arms around yourself.

Glen stops dead, his hands falling to his sides, confusion and hurt flickering across his features. "Hey, It's just me ... I wasn't gonna ..."

Daryl's hands curl into fists. Glen's been one of your closest friends since the prison. You've never flinched away from Glen in your life. Never looked at him like he might hurt you.

What did that bastard do to her? The thought makes Daryl want to put his fist through the nearest wall. He'd only seen the way Negan looked at you in passing, or through Dwight's relutant updates.

Seeing you like this, seeing you afraid of touch from people who'd never hurt you...

Makes his whole chest ache.

"It's fine," you manage, but your voice is barely above a whisper. "I'm fine, I'm sorry"

You're not fine.

Anyone with eyes can see that.

Carl appears next, relief written all over his young face. "You're back," he says simply, but there's so much emotion in those two words. He steps forward for a hug—the same kid who's been your constant since he was eight years old, who you've worried over and cared for through everything.

You try. Daryl can see you trying to be normal, to let Carl embrace you. But your whole body goes rigid when the teen's arms wrap around you, and you have to force yourself not to pull away immediately.

"Sorry," you mumble against Carl's shoulder, and Daryl can hear the self-hatred in your voice. "I'm sorry, Carl. I'm so sorry."

What the hell's she apologizin' for ?, Daryl asks himself and the rage in his chest burns hotter.

Carl pulls back, looking between you and Daryl with understanding beyond his years. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

Rick appears, taking in the scene with sharp eyes. Daryl can see him cataloging the changes—the way you stand closer to the fence than the center of the group, the way you keep your arms wrapped around yourself, the careful distance you maintain from everyone.

"We need to get you both inside," Rick says quietly. "And we need to talk. Negan's going to come back, and when he does, he can't know you're here."

At the mention of Negan's name, you go pale. Daryl notices the way your breathing quickens, how your hands start to shake slightly.

She's scared, he realizes. She's fuckin' terrified.

"We need to move tomorrow," Rick continues. "Go to the Kingdom, start building alliances. We can't do this alone."

"No." The word comes out sharper than you intended, and everyone turns to look at you. "I mean... What if he finds out? What if—"

"Hey." Daryl's voice is rough, but gentle. He wants to reach for you, wants to pull you close like he used. But he can see how you're holding yourself, can see that even his touch might be too much right now.

Carol recognizes the signs immediately - the way your breathing is getting shorter, how your hands are starting to shake, the glassy look creeping into your eyes.

She's seen this before, in herself, in others who've survived the unsurvivable. Without drawing attention to what she's doing, she moves closer to you.

"Hi," Carol says quietly, her voice cutting through the rising panic with practiced calm. "Look at me for a second." She positions herself in your line of sight, not crowding you but close enough that you can focus on her face instead of the spiraling thoughts. "We're going to figure this out together, okay? But right now, I need you to breathe with me."

She demonstrates, taking slow, deliberate breaths, and you find yourself automatically trying to match her rhythm. "That's it" she says softly, Her presence is steady, grounding, and somehow the panic begins to ebb just enough for you to think clearly again.

"You're safe right now," Carol continues, her voice never wavering from that calm, sure tone. "Right here, right now, you're safe. But he will come to visit, and both you and Daryl can't be here when that happens"

"What if he comes back while we're gone?" you continue, and Daryl can hear the panic curling around your voice. "What if he knows we escaped? What if he takes it out on everyone else?"

Rick's expression softens with understanding. "He won't know. We'll be careful."

But Daryl can see you're not convinced. You're thinking about consequences, about retaliation, about all the ways Negan could hurt the people you care about.

Just like you were thinking when you threw yourself over Daryl that night, begging for his life.

Always puttin' everyone else first, he thinks.

"I don't know," you whisper, and Daryl can see you retreating inward, building walls to protect yourself.

Thinks she's gonna cause retaliation, Daryl realizes with a sick feeling.

The worst part is, he doesn't know how to fix this. Doesn't know how to reach you when you're drowning in fear and self-blame. All he knows is that he failed to protect you and now you're paying the price.

Should've been me, he thinks for the hundredth time since the Sanctuary. Should've let me take the goddamn hit.

But it wasn't. And now he has to figure out how to help you heal from wounds he can't even see, while fighting his own demons about not being enough, not being worthy of the sacrifice you made for him.

Merle was right, the familiar voice whispers in his head. Look what hangin' around w'me got 'er.

Daryl pushes the voice away, but it leaves its mark. Just like it always does.

Later that evening, you find yourself in Judith's nursery, gently rocking her to sleep. The familiar routine is soothing, one of the few things that feels normal anymore. When Carol appears in the doorway, her face soft with understanding, you don't flinch.

Something about Carol, even with her righteousness, has always felt safe.

"How are you holding up?" she asks quietly, settling into the chair beside you.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, then catch yourself. "No, I'm not fine. I hate that I can't even hug Glen without falling apart. I hate that Carl thinks he did something wrong when he's never done anything but love me."

Carol reaches over and gently touches your hand. When you don't pull away, she keeps it there. "You've been through a lot. Your body is trying to protect you, even from people you love. It doesn't mean your choosing to do it."

"I feel broken," you whisper, looking down at Judith's peaceful face. "I feel like he's still there, still watching, still—" You cut yourself off, unable to finish.

"You know, when I was at the Kingdom, I met someone I think you'd like," Carol says, changing the subject with the gentle skill of someone who understands.

"The king there, Ezekiel. He's... different. Kind. Theatrical, but genuinely good. He has this way of making people feel safe."

You nod, not trusting your voice.

"We're going to get through this," Carol says firmly. "You won't be alone."

The water runs scalding hot, but you barely feel it anymore. Your skin is raw and red from scrubbing, but you can't stop.

Can't get clean enough.

The soap burns the abraded skin on your arms, but still you scrub harder, trying to wash away the memory of his hands, his breath, his voice whispering things that made your skin crawl.

Get it off.

Get it off.

Get it off.

The dress you wore at the Sanctuary lies crumpled on the bedroom floor - that awful thing he made you wear, said it looked "real pretty" on you.

Your breathing becomes ragged as the panic rises. The small bathroom feels like it's closing in, the steam making it hard to breathe. You slide down the shower wall until you're sitting on the floor, hot water beating down on you as sobs wrack your body.

You want to scream, but your throat feels to tight.

You hear footsteps outside the bathroom door, then a gentle knock.

"Hey." Daryl's voice is soft, careful. "Y'alright?"

You try to answer, but only a choked sound comes out.

"I, uh... I put some clothes out on the bed for you. "Ones y'like."

The kindness in his voice breaks something loose in your chest, and you cry harder. He's trying so hard to take care of you, and you can't even function properly anymore.

"Take y'time," he says quietly. "M'here if you need anythin'."

When you finally turn off the water, your skin is pruned and raw. You dry off mechanically, avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror.

On the bed, Daryl has laid out your most comfortable clothes - soft cotton pants and one of your favorite t-shirts. But when you pick up the shirt, something feels wrong. It's too light or too thin, too something.

Without really thinking about it, you set it aside and go to the dresser you share with Daryl. Your hands find one of his flannels - the yellow one that's gone soft with age and washing, he doesnt wear it much anymore. When you put it on, wrapping the oversized fabric around yourself, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

It smells like him - like home.

Daryl notices the t-shirt still on the bed when he comes to check on you. He sees you curled up in his flannel instead, looking lost, and something in his chest tightens.

There's a flicker of something that might be hope.

He picks up the discarded dress from the floor, holding it away from himself like it might contaminate him too. The fabric feels wrong in his hand - tainted with memories of what happened to you while wearing it. Carol watches from the couch as he carries it downstairs without a word.

He doesn't ask permission.

Doesn't need to.

This thing needs to be destroyed.

Carol follows, helping him build up the fire. They watch in silence as the fabric catches, curls, and turns to ash.

The flames seem to purge something from the air, and Carol catches Daryl's eye.

"When's the last time you slept?" Carol settles beside him, studying his profile.

Daryl shrugs. "Don't matter."

"It matters."

They sit in silence for a while before Daryl finally speaks, his voice rough with emotion. "I failed her, Carol. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed."

"Daryl—"

"Nah, listen." He turns to face her, and Carol can see the pain etched in every line of his face.

"She threw herself over me that night. Begged for my life. Offered to be one of his ..." he can't finish the sentence, it makes him feel sick. "If he left m'alone... And what did I do? Nothin'. I let him take her."

"You were outnumbered and outgunned. There was nothing you could have done."

"There's always somethin'." His hands clench into fists. "She can't even stand to be touched now. Can't hug the people she loves without breakin' apart. That's my fault."

Carol's voice is gentle but firm. "It's Negan's fault. Not yours."

"I love her," Daryl says suddenly, the words torn from somewhere deep inside. "I love her, Carol. Been too scared to tell her, too scared I ain't good enough for someone like her."

"And now?"

"Now m'more scared. What if she can't stand my touch neither? What if every time she looks at me, she remembers that prick ? What if lovin' me gets her hurt again ?"

Carol is quiet for a long moment. "You know what I see when I look at her with you?"

Daryl shakes his head.

"I see someone who feels safest when you're near. Even now, even hurt like she is, she gravitates toward you. She trusts you in a way she doesn't trust anyone else."

"Then why won't she let me help her?"

"Because she's scared too. Scared of being vulnerable, scared of being a burden, scared of being hurt again. But that doesn't mean she doesn't need you. It just means she needs you to be patient."

Daryl nods, but Carol can see the doubt still eating at him.

"She made her choice that night," Carol continues. "She chose to protect you because you matter to her. Don't water that down by believing you're not worth it."

"What if I can't fix this? What if I can't—"

"Then you'll be there while she heals herself. Love isn't about fixing someone, Daryl. It's about standing beside them while they find their own way back."

That night, your danp hair curls over the edges of your pillow in your shared room, you watch Daryl lean agasint the doorway. He's keeping as much distance as possible, clearly trying not to crowd you.

"Daryl?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

He looks up immediately. "Yeah?"

"Stay? Please?"

"Course," he says simply, settling back against the pillows.

You stay on your side close enough to feel his presence, but not close enough to touch.

He doesn't reach for you, doesn't try to hold you like he used to, but knowing he's there makes the darkness feel less overwhelming.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being patient with me. For not making me feel broken."

"Y'ain't broken," he says into the darkness.

For a while, you both lie there in the quiet darkness, the space between you achingly empty. You can hear Daryl's breathing gradually slow and deepen as sleep takes him, and eventually, lulled by the familiar sound, you drift off too.

Hours pass.

In sleep, Daryl's body relaxes completely for the first time in weeks. The hypervigilance that kept his muscles coiled tight during waking hours finally releases its grip.

Old habits and deeper instincts take over - the same ones that used to draw him to you every night, when you both to seek comfort in each other's warmth like gravity.

His body shifts unconsciously, turning toward you like a compass finding true north. In the depths of sleep, muscle memory guides him as his arm slides across the small space between you, coming to rest across your waist in a gesture as natural as breathing.

For a few peaceful moments, you both sleep the way you used to - close, connected, safe in each other's presence.

But peace doesn't last long, you wake up disoriented, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest. There's weight across your body, an arm pinning you down, and the world tilts sideways as terror floods your system.

Your skin feels like it's crawling, every nerve ending screaming danger.

The darkness presses in from all sides, and for a terrifying, all-consuming moment you're back in that room with Negan - his voice a predatory whisper in your ear, his hands claiming territory on your skin that wasn't his to take.

"No, no, don't!"

The words tear from your throat raw and desperate. You scramble away so violently you nearly fall off the bed, your body moving on pure instinct, pressing yourself against the headboard with wild, unfocused eyes.

Your chest heaves as you hyperventilate, the room spinning around you.

Daryl jerks awake, immediately pulling his arm back like he's been burned.

"Hey, hey, S'me. It's just me." His voice is soft, but there's panic underneath - panic for you, not at you.

But you can't hear him over the roar of blood in your ears, over the phantom sensations still crawling across your skin.

The room is dark, full of shifting shadows that could hide anything, anyone. Your vision tunnels to a singular point, and all you can feel is trapped.

"Don't touch me, please don't touch me," you gasp, the words coming out in broken sobs, but even as you say it, some distant part of you knows this isn't right.

You know that voice, know those hands wouldn't hurt you.

Daryl's heart shatters watching you cower from him, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately.

Every instinct screams at him to reach for you, to pull you close and promise you're safe, but he knows that's the last thing you need right now.

"Look at me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... feel."

He moves like he's telegraphing every motion. His hands hover in the space between you, not quite touching, waiting. When you don't pull away, he very gently, very carefully, takes your trembling hands in his.

He guides your fingers to his head with movements so tentative they're almost reverent, like he's afraid you'll shatter at any moment.

"S'me," he whispers, and there's something broken in his voice. "Its jus' me."

Your fingers tangle in the long strands, and slowly, slowly, recognition begins to dawn through the fog of panic.

This isn't Negan. This is Daryl- the hair you've run your fingers through countless times, soft, familiar and safe.

Next, he brings your hands to his face, letting you map the familiar territory. The stubble that's rougher in some places than others, the scar on his chin from a childhood accident, the way his skin crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles.

"Daryl?" Your voice is small, uncertain, like a child waking from a nightmare.

"Yeah." The relief in his voice is palpable.

The panic gradually recedes like a tide pulling back, leaving you shaky and exhausted in its wake.

When your breathing finally evens out, when the wild look fades from your eyes, only then does Daryl move.

He takes your hands - the same hands that were just clawing at the air in terror - and brings them to his lips.

He turns his head slightly, angling so his lips find the soft flesh at the base of your thumb first, soft and lingering, like he's trying to kiss away all the memories of fear.

The kiss is feather-light, barely there, but you feel it like a brand of safety against your skin. His breath is warm as he murmurs against your palm, "Y'safe."

His thumb traces over your knuckles with the barest whisper of pressure, back and forth in a soothing rhythm.

"Ain't nobody gonna hurt you while I'm here," he drawls, his voice thick with emotion. "Never again."

When he moves to your other hand, he takes even more care, if that's possible. His lips brush against the center of your palm this time, lingering there as if he's trying to pour all his love and protection into that single point of contact.

"M'here" he whispers against your skin. "Y'know me. Y'know I'd walk into a herd 'fore I let anyone lay a finger on you."

His own hands are steady despite the tremor you can hear in his voice, and he brings your joined hands up so your palms rest against his cheeks.

"Ain't gonna let anythin' hurt ya"

"I'm sorry," you whisper, shame flooding through you.

"Nothin' to be sorry for." His voice is firm, final.

The moonlight filters through the small window, casting gentle shadows across the sloped ceiling above your shared bed. "Jus' you and me," he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the attic room.

His hands cover yours, guiding your fingers through the longer strands at his temples with infinite patience. "Y'here?" he whispers.

Your fingers follow his guidance, threading through the soft hair that curls slightly at the ends. The texture grounds you, reminds you of countless nights curled against him.

"Y'with me ?," he breathes, his eyes closing as your touch becomes more sure.

You nod slowly, sinking back into the comfort of reality, like a plush blanket.

The attic creaks softly around you, the old house settling into the night. Here, in this small space that's become yours and Daryl's sanctuary, the world narrows to just this - his hair between your fingers, his quiet voice anchoring you to the present.

"Ain't nowhere else m'gonna be," he tells you so quietly its almost swallowed by the darkness, his forehead almost touching yours. "Just right here, wit' you."

Your fingers find the longer pieces at the back, and you run one strand between your fingers, focusing on the texture, the realness of it. In the darkness, with your hands in his hair and his quiet presence beside you, you finally feel safe enough to close your eyes again.

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Being locked in a closet with all Diaboys NSFW please <33

SETUP:

Someone (probably Admin) locked you and each vampire in a cramped, dark closet — the kind that forces body heat to rise and limbs to tangle. There's no room to move, no way to escape, and you can feel the way their breath hitches when you squirm against them. The door is stuck, and the tension? Even worse.

Shu Sakamaki

Lazy smirk. “Tch. Guess we’ll kill time some other way.” He slouches down, dragging you into his lap. Hands snake up your thighs. “So warm already? We haven’t even started, Livestock.” His mouth trails lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck while his fingers trace the waistband of your underwear, humming lowly. “Want me to make you forget where we are?”

Reiji Sakamaki

“Tch. How undignified.” But he doesn’t push you away—no, he uses it. “You’re trembling already. Is it fear? Or anticipation?” His voice drips with condescension as he pins your wrists above your head, his knee between your thighs. “Perhaps I should punish you here for being so indecent… letting your scent intoxicate me like this.”

Ayato Sakamaki

“Ore-sama’s so close to you, huh?” He presses his body flush to yours, cocky grin fading to something darker. “I can feel you, Chichinashi… your heart’s pounding.” His hands grope and wander under your clothes. “What if I just lifted your skirt and had you here? Would you scream? Or beg for more?”

Kanato Sakamaki

He giggles. “This is fun~ like a secret game. Can you stay quiet?” His hands are cold, roaming under your shirt as he whispers right into your ear. “I want to hear you whimper. But we’ll get in trouble if you’re too loud, won’t we?” He nips at your throat, humming as he toys with your nipples through your bra. “So be a good doll and squirm quietly.”

Laito Sakamaki

“Oh my, Bitch-chan~ You’re pressed so tight against me… Can you feel what you do to me?” He rocks against you slowly, voice dripping with heat. “We could make this so much more fun. I’ll keep my hand over your mouth if you can’t control yourself.” His fingers are already under your panties, teasing your entrance. “Let’s see how wet you get before someone hears.”

Subaru Sakamaki

He’s stiff at first. “D-don’t get so close…!” But you’re both flushed, panting, pressed against each other. When you shift your hips and brush against his arousal, he groans low. “You’re doing this on purpose… right?” His hand slips under your skirt, breathing ragged. “Tch. Fine. If you want it… I’ll give it to you. But don’t cry when I wreck you right here.”

Ruki Mukami

“How indecent,” he murmurs, but the way his fingers slide around your throat say otherwise. “Trapped together like this… what a perfect chance to break you down.” His voice is dark velvet. “I want you to beg—quietly.” He pulls you down into his lap, his clothed length grinding into you. “Let’s see how disciplined you can be while I ruin your composure.”

Kou Mukami

“Heh~ So close, little kitten. You smell like sin already.” He presses his forehead to yours, smirking as his hands roam under your shirt. “What if someone opened the door and saw me fingering you like this?” He pushes your panties aside, slowly sliding a finger in. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Such a naughty girl~”

Yuma Mukami

“Shit, you’re practically beggin’ for it.” He grabs your hips, pinning you against the wall. His breath is hot, full of grit and hunger. “You grind against me again like that, and I’m gonna make you come on my thigh before we even get outta here.” His voice is low and filthy. “Think you can take me in this cramped-ass space, Sow?”

Azusa Mukami

“Ah… you’re so close… I can feel… everything…” His fingers tremble as they slide along your skin, his voice soft and breathless. “Do you want me… to touch you more?” His arousal presses against your thigh, and he lets out the tiniest gasp when you grind into him. “Let’s… hurt together. Gently… or not.”

Carla Tsukinami

“How curious… your pulse quickens the longer we remain in darkness.” He’s composed, but there’s hunger in his eyes. “Perhaps I should see just how easily you come undone without ever being seen.” He touches you with expert precision, voice calm but commanding. “Let me hear you whisper my name as you fall apart.”

Shin Tsukinami

He’s grinning like a devil. “I could fuck you right here.” His fingers trail teasing circles over your thighs. “Cramped. Hot. Desperate.” He pulls you into his lap, grinding into you. “Want my scent on you when they open the door? Want them to know who made you cry like that?”

Kino

He growls low. “You’ve got no idea how dangerous this is, sweetheart.” He’s breathless, hand already slipped under your waistband. “You shouldn’t press that pretty ass against me like that unless you want me to lose control.” And he does. Rough kisses, whispered filth, hot grinding—he wants to ruin you before the door even opens.

[jaredwnch]

You were waiting for him. Pretending to stretch, still in your little practice shorts, smug and slick with sweat. You knew he was watching—Jason always watched. That locker room door never shut unless he had something to say. But this time? He had something to take.

“You done showin’ off?” His voice rolled behind you like thunder, low and dangerous.

You smirked, not even turning around. “You done lurking?”

Wrong move.

In a blink, Jason’s behind you—his hand gripping the back of your neck, the other palming your hip so hard it nearly bruises.

“Smart mouth,” he mutters. “Always talkin’. Always pushin’. You want attention so bad, sweetheart? You got it.”

He shoves you gently but firmly against the lockers. Cold metal meets your cheek, but the heat between your thighs makes you forget everything but him.

“Color?” he grits.

“Green,” you whisper. Breathless.

That’s all he needs.

Your shorts are tugged down fast—not torn, but close. His hand trails down your spine, fingers dragging heat, and then crack—his palm smacks your ass, sharp and stinging. You gasp, spine arching.

“That shut you up?” he asks darkly, landing another.

You whimper. “No.”

Another slap. Harder.

Jason chuckles darkly. “Oh, I love your attitude.”

He sinks to his knees behind you, kissing the sting he left behind. “But you gotta learn what happens when you act like a brat.”

Your panties are next, soaked and ruined. You hear his belt unbuckle, the clink making your legs shake. Then—his cock, hot and heavy, brushing the inside of your thigh.

He teases your entrance with it, dragging the thick head through your folds, gathering every bit of your slick.

“So ready for me already,” he murmurs. “This what you needed?”

You whine. “Please.”

Jason doesn’t ease in. He claims you—slow at first, just to stretch you out—but once you’re full, once you’re crying out his name against the locker door, he slams his hips into yours like he’s got something to prove.

And he does.

He fucks you hard, relentless, a hand at your throat and the other gripping your hip, dragging you back onto his cock with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Beggin’, takin’ it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

You’re moaning now, breath broken, face hot, hands scrambling uselessly against the lockers. Each thrust sends shockwaves through you, pressure building so fast it’s blinding.

“Jason—oh my God—”

“You gonna come for me?” he hisses in your ear. “Cream all over my cock like you owe me?”

You nod frantically, thighs shaking. “Please—please—I need—”

“Then come.”

Your orgasm rips through you—loud, wet, messy. You cry out as your walls clench around him, and Jason groans, gripping your hair as he chases his own high.

He fucks you through it, deeper, harder, until he spills inside you with a low growl, your name on his tongue like a warning and a prayer.

The only sound afterward is your ragged breathing and the hum of fluorescent lights above.

Jason leans in, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, still inside you.

“You ever pull that shit again,” he pants, “I’ll bend you over the bleachers next time.”

You just smile.

“Promise?”

[tinybrooms]

The Beggining - Thomas Hewitt x Fem Reader

Thomas Hewitt (TCM: Beggining) and Female Reader

NOTE: This is my first one shot and it's pretty long, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

Summary: Y/N has been the only friend Thomas has had his entire life and he will give his life to protect her when she needs it and after all, they're meant to be.

Warnings: Reader being abused, family being killed, hard lenguage, kill references, slasher content and fluff.

________________________________________________________

Everything was packed and ready to move to Austin, the town had fallen into a decline that there was no possibility of continuing to subsist in the place where you were born and that meant leaving everything behind to start a new life, your mama, a single woman in charge of 3 girls did everything possible to put food on the table, first working as a packer in the old meat factory and then helping Luda Mae at the small gas station, but money was little and they couldn't support two households with the few cents that the drivers left every time they filled up with gas and everything even worse when the pumps ran dry.

You were the oldest of those 3 girls, little Jo Anne was 5 years old while Ella had just turned 11 and was beginning to be a young lady, taking you as an example to combine her clothes and comb her hair as golden as the sun in a cute way.

One day before moving to Austin you decided to make your favorite dessert, some small bonbons filled with cherry jelly, your favorite fruit and you plated them in a nice container to take to the Hewitts' house, you wanted to say goodbye to them for being your second family but Above all, you wanted to say goodbye to Tommy, your best friend for as long as you can remember.

The road to the Hewitt's farm was short but the hot summer sun and the warm afternoon wind made you feel that it had taken you a little longer to reach the residence in the middle of a dry cornfield, your footsteps sounded as they stepped on the leaves and a greeting In the distance made you look towards an old tractor that made more noise than it seemed to move.

-Hello there little one, what'ya doing here? -Old Monty came down, wiping his hands on his pants, approaching you while he adjusted his glasses.

-Hello uncle Monty - you smiled watching him approach, greeting him with your hand - I came to say goodbye before we went to Austin, I brought my favorite dessert for you to eat tonight during dinner

-So you are leaving after all? Little Tommy still doesn't understand that you're leaving, he's been a little out of his mind these days - the old man sighed, putting his hands on his waist, closing his eyes a little for the strong evening sun

-I see…can I go inside? I would like to say goodbye - you looked at him letting out a little air feeling a blow in your chest, you knew that maybe you would never see your best friend again and the man just nodded making a gesture with his hand inviting you to go to the house while he returned to the old tractor

Your steps were slow, nervous and sad until you reached the entrance of the place and opened the screen door that made a peculiar squeak when opened, You left the plate on the kitchen table and wiped your hands on your skirt of your dress walking up the stairs slowly heading to the side of the hallway where you knew Tommy's bedroom was located.

The door was open a little and you could see his big back as he sewed what was apparently a shirt, your hand hit the door slowly making Thomas grunt without looking.

-Hello Tommy…- your voice sounded low and shy but it made Thomas turn around quickly looking at you as you opened the door and walked towards him, smiling and sitting next to him- how have you been? I heard that today was your last day at the meat factory

Thomas looked back at the floor barely nodding returning to his work with the needle and thread on his shirt

-What are you doing? Did you rip another one of your shirts again? -You smiled even though he didn't notice it and carefully took his hands to take the needle and help him - I'll do it for you.

The enormous man, submissive to your touch, let you take the things, looking at you through the strands of his long hair, releasing a sigh that sounded loud due to the obstruction of his mask.

-Do you remember that days ago I told you that tomorrow would be the day we were going to Austin? - You looked at him while you carefully sewed the sleeve of his shirt that covered your entire lap as if it were a blanket, Thomas just turned his face, looking at the other side of the room, clenching his fists, making his knuckles turn white.

- I know you don't want me to move Tommy, but I can't leave mama alone, I have to go with her to work and help her with my sisters - your hands fell into your lap looking at him sadly trying to get him to meet your eyes but he just lowered his head without growling as was his way of communicate - Tommy, don't be sad, we will always be friends, okay? I promise that whenever I can I will come visit you and bring you things from Austin - you smiled at him, taking his hand, making him look at you with his noticeably moist eyes.

After a few seconds looking at you, the huge man pounced on you, hugging you tightly, almost taking all the air out of your lungs, you felt that at any second one of your bones would break but that didn't matter to you, Tommy always gave those strong and wise hugs. You were going to miss him so you enjoyed it, the two of you staying like that for a few minutes until Charlie interrupted yelling from the kitchen with one of his mundane comments.

After a few hours and Luda Mae insisting that you stay for dinner, you went home again with a plate in your hands to take to your family, even though Thomas grunted and insisted on accompanying you home to spend more time together you convinced him that he should stay for reasons that Charlie only knew, you didn't want him to get in trouble so he agreed to stay, saying goodbye one last time with another hug and a kiss on your hair.

The breeze was fresh and the moonlight illuminated the path between the plants and trees that had already been formed from so many times that you and Thomas went or came to each other's house. After a few minutes walking you could see your small house with the lights on but something strange seemed to be noticeable when the door was open, you quickened your step almost running home entering while you looked everywhere noticing objects thrown and broken.

-Mama?…Ella? - You walked between the rooms looking for them, walking between glass and furniture lying on the floor - Mama?

Your steps stopped when you entered the kitchen, throwing the plate that was in your hands causing it to break into a thousand pieces while you tried to understand why your mother and sisters were on the floor unconscious among blood and pieces of clothing, the golden hair of Ella and Jo Anne was dyed a reddish color while your mother had a thin carmine line on her neck where a pool of blood formed, her dress was tangled around her waist and her underwear was missing.

Your steps backwards stopped when you hit your back on a wall, your vision blurred by tears and you could only run outside stumbling through the furniture to run towards the Hewitts' house, your only hope to help you.

It was a few meters ahead when you heard the engine of some motorcycles approaching while screams and shots in the air made you stop in fear, leaving you petrified.

-Well well, where are you going in such a hurry little doll? - A man with a beard and dressed in leather smiled at you, spitting out what looked like tobacco.

You couldn't say anything, your body was shaking and the tears didn't stop coming out of your eyes.

-Can't you talk, darling? The other bitches couldn't stop screaming a while ago and you don't say a word? - the other 2 men laughed while one of them got off his motorcycle, approaching you, pointing a gun at you, making your eyes widen with fear - I won't hurt you, I won't do anything you don't want, you look like a pretty girl, the kind that make cute sounds when they are fucked like the sluts they are

Your moans and cries came out muffled from your throat and your brain forced you to run as the only escape but a strong hand grabbed your hair, pulling you on your back while you screamed and moved your hands and legs trying to defend yourself from the scratchy hands that touched your body.

-Please let me go, I didn't do anything wrong - you screamed while your tears ran down the edges of your eyes, wetting your hair.

-Of course you haven't done anything wrong, little angel, that's why you're not a woman yet - the blonde-haired man laughed, putting his hand under your skirt, touching your between your legs, hurting you - stop moving, damn bitch, - his strong hand hit your cheek leaving you stunned

-Do it quickly, I want some of the slut too- the bearded man ordered as he took your wrists placing them on top of your head.

For you they were hours of agony, between blows, insults and three men abusing you, you lost track of time before falling unconscious among the neglected grass that covered the intruders, it was almost dawn when your eyes opened looking at the dark sky with some rays. of sun about to appear.

Your head hurt, your sore and weak body could barely get up, stumbling making you fall to your knees, your dress was torn causing one of your breasts to be exposed, your private part hurt and burned as if a knife had been stuck in your innocent crotch.

The path that took you 10 minutes to travel became a long trip of almost 40 minutes, your feet barely dragged and your dry mouth made your throat hurt every time you took a breath of air and when you looked at the Hewitt house a sigh came out of you in relief even though you still had to walk the entire driveway.

Luda Mae was walking carefully with a basket of clean clothes that she had recently washed by hand and was preparing to hang them on the clotheslines in the yard when she looked at you walking in the distance, she carefully adjusted her glasses on her sweaty nose and let out a frightened moan when she could recognize your battered form covered in bruises.

-Oh my sweet lord, oh my god - the woman almost screamed, dropping the basket on the floor, walking hurriedly towards you - for God's sake baby, who did this to you?

Your steps continued slowly, your chest rumbled with sobs as you looked at her and felt safe, but as soon as her arms held you, your body vanished, causing the woman to fall next to you on the floor, but not before taking care not to hit yourself.

-Thomas! Thomas, come here - the woman screamed hysterically, making Charlie and Monty quickly leave the house, Charlie still holding his cup of coffee which almost fell to the floor when Thomas rushed out to help his mother, but when he looked at you on the floor between her arms his steps hurried quickly as growls came from his throat.

-Take her inside carefully, son - Luda adjusted your corrupted dress to take care of your little privacy - Lord, have mercy on this poor girl - the woman was praying to herself as she followed her enormous son inside and the two men looked at the scene, frozen, scared of what that they had looked at.

Thomas ignored his mother's instructions and instead of lying down on the sofa in the living room he quickly went up to his room with you in his arms, laying you down on his bed slowly as if you were the most fragile and precious thing that his hands had ever held, his anxiety gnawed away his head looking at you unconscious and covered in wounds and bruises that went from your legs to your face, his growls were loud and aggressive and he didn't calm down until Luda took his arms making him look at her.

-Look at me son, Thomas relax -Luda looked at him tenderly but with a firm voice- this is not the time for you not to listen to me, we must take care of her and know what happened, do you understand? - Her hands went up to his cheeks, calming him a little while his chest rose and fell with an anger that he had never felt, not even the day he was fired from the factory and ended his boss's life.

Luda was in charge of commanding that day, she sent Monty and Charlie to your house to tell you what had happened, but as soon as they arrived and saw the scene, both men knelt down, bowing their heads, while old Monty shed a couple of tears, then After all he was the ''Uncle Monty'' of those little girls and someone had annihilated them, Charlie found a little humanity in his heart and ordered Monthy to find some sheets to cover the bodies of the three women to put them in the truck and take them home where they could give them a decent burial, after all they had been good people with their family and deserved respect.

When the men came home and told Luda what had happened, the woman couldn't help but cry and fall into a crisis when she saw the lifeless bodies of her friend and her little babies, what cruel person had done that to your family? They were the sweetest people in the whole town and they didn't deserve an ending like that.

While the three eldest were arranging everything to respectfully say goodbye to the three ladies, Thomas in his room had already carefully removed your torn dress, to be honest he had often imagined your body when Charlie forced him to watch those obscene movies or told him stories of how girls behaved when he touched them, but this time all his thoughts of desire disappeared when he saw you like that.

A bucket of warm water rested on his nightstand while he carefully cleaned your face with a small damp towel, when he removed all the dirt from your face, he could notice your broken lip and the bump on your cheek that was beginning to heal dyed purple, his hand slowly went down your neck cleaning and then carefully passing the towel between your breasts, your chest rose and fell slowly with your calm breathing, Thomas couldn't help but turn his gaze when he saw your breasts with scratches Just like your stomach that had red marks on your waist, his head didn't help him, he imagined what had you been suffer alone there and he wanted to kill slowly and painfully the person who had done that to you.

After all his thought's and after cleaning your legs covered in scratches and your injured knees, Thomas slowly separated your legs, squeezing his jaw looking at how your inner thighs had wounds, scratches that looked red on your skin that looked like porcelain, his hand covered In the damp cloth that every now and then he washed in the warm water, he slowly passed over the marks of the attack, as if he were afraid of hurting you even more than they had already done, your small moans of pain made him retreat in fear, but when he looked at your eyes closed without any sign of wanting to wake up, he returned to his tasks until he left you completely clean, then he took a Luda dress that he carefully put on you as if he were dressing a small doll that could break into a thousand pieces if he barely touched it with his big hands, the dress was too big on you but it covered your body and that was enough for him, he didn't want anyone else to look at you, you were his only and he was going to take care of you with his life.

After a few hours the sky had already begun to darken and your eyes tightened as you woke up in a room that you knew very well, you looked at the ceiling and the old closet on the side of the room, the old lamp on the nightstand was on and a blanket covered your legs, the heavy steps in the corridor made you look towards the door with fear, you knew that in that house you were not in danger but your state made you think that at any minute someone was going to attack you again.

But a large figure that covered almost the entire door frame appeared looking at you, releasing a deep sigh as he walked towards you.

-Tommy?…-your eyes moistened feeling safe, he walks to you letting his knees hit the floor next to the bed while his arms surrounded your waist and despite the pain, your arms surrounded his shoulders while you cried, hiding your face in his neck.

Not long after, Thomas looked at you with his frown, he was angry, more than that, you had never seen him this upset, his hand slowly touched your cheek over the bump and then pointed towards his chest, you knew what that meant, ''who was the one who make you this?'' cause he would be in charge of making them pay.

-I don't know who those men were, Tommy, but they hurt my family, I know that they were the ones who hurt my little sisters and mama - your voice was broken with your crying, his hand touched your face while his breathing sounded heavy - they were …motorcyclists, one had a beard, another was blonde, they were all dressed in leather - your eyes followed his enormous form as he stood up, turning quickly towards the door but your hand did not let go of his, making him stop - Tommy?…what? are you going to do?

He looked straight into your eyes, the blue of his eyes had disappeared, they were black and deep, you had never seen them that way, he just let go of your hand slowly and rushed out, making his heavy footsteps sound as he lowered the stairs.

After a few minutes Luda came up with a tray with tea and a plate of warm food, it looked like stew and smelled good but your stomach hurt from the blows you had received so you barely ate while the woman brushed your hair slowly with her fingers looking at you tenderly.

-Luda…where did Tommy go? - You looked at her curiously while you drank some iced tea that made your throat feel fresh.

-Tommy loves you too much, he would do everything possible for you to make you happy, you know? -She looked at you over her glasses while her hand stopped.

-I know, I would do the same for him but I'm not as big and strong as Tommy is, he takes care of himself and he also takes care of me.

-You're wrong about that honey, he is strong on the outside, my boy was blessed with a huge body that can intimidate anyone who stands in front of him, but on the inside my boy is just a pure soul who doesn't know how to deal with this horrible and disgusting world where we live, that is where you come to protect him, your heart and courage makes my Tommy feel safe and continues to be the strong and brave boy that he is

A small smile formed on your face thinking that you were very lucky to have Thomas in your life, everyone had always been cruel to him, they made fun of his poor ability to speak and his skin was always so sensitive and no one understood it, just You and that was enough, you had gotten used to only having Tommy's attention and affection for you that you wouldn't know how to deal if someone else took a little of his attention away.

That night Thomas did not come home, you spent most of the night looking at the door waiting to see him arrive but he never showed up, only the sound of the crickets and the wind coming through the window accompanied you and little by little you fell asleep between the blankets with its aroma.

It was early in the morning when you heard some murmurs and an argument downstairs that made you wake up.

-You can't do that, you don't know how she's going to take it, she's going to run away from here and accuse us, we would have to kill her too, is that what you want, damned idiot? - you could recognize Charlie's voice from his screams

-Stop calling him that way, he is not an idiot and he knows what he is doing-Luda shouted.

-Thomas, come here you damn bastard - Charlie shouted as loud footsteps went up the stairs that then became light as they approached the room.

There was Thomas, covered in blood, looking at you from the door, when he saw that you were awake, lowering his head thinking about what he would do but also thought if Charlie was right.

-Tommy?…why are you covered in blood? they hurt you? - Your hands rested on the bed, sitting up as fast as the pain allowed, he just shook his head and looked at you again, approaching - Are you okay?

Again his knees rested on the floor next to you while his blue eyes looked at you and his huge hand took yours carefully, his free hand rested on his chest pointing with his finger.

-You? -His hand moved slowly towards you, touching the center of your chest with his finger- me? - He nodded shyly taking both your hands in his, kissing both palms on the mask - I know you wouldn't hurt me, Tommy, you don't have to explain it to me.

He looked at you with relief and stood up offering you his hand to stand up, but when you tried, your sore knees felt like they were melting, making you stumble, Thomas holding you quickly and carefully by your waist.

-I'm fine Tommy… I just…- Thomas didn't let you finish your sentence when with his arm he held the back of your knees lifting you up making your arms quickly surround his neck in fear of falling.

His steps were delicate as he left the room and went down the stairs, three pairs of eyes looked at you, questioning his that you going down was the right thing to do, but Thomas cared little and continued on his way to the basement door.

The place was cold and damp, the walls surrounding the stairs had scratch marks and you could notice a couple of nails stuck in the cement, Thomas walked towards what looked like a work table and carefully sat you in a chair as he walked to a coat rack and took an old apron covered in red stains and put it on him.

-Tommy?…- He didn't pay attention to you for a few seconds, searching for something with his eyes until he took an electric chainsaw from a tool table and walked towards you, taking you again with one of his arms, walking to a place behind a shelf full of jars and he sit you delicately on a wooden table

You could notice three figures hanging from what seemed to be a nail where the animals were hanging in the slaughterhouse and when your eyes adjusted to the darkness you could notice the three men who had attacked you hanging from their tied hands, one of them moaning as they others were unconscious

Your hands quickly covered your face, fear took over your body when you looked at them, feeling the fear of being attacked again but Thomas approached you, took your hand and your scared eyes looked at him while your hands trembled.

-It's them Tommy…it's them - your voice hurts whispered the words when Thomas gently removed his hand and touched your face and then looked at the men, then his hand delicately touched your lap, caressing your wounds over the fabric of the dress and point at the men looking into your eyes - it's… him - your hand pointed at the bearded man

Thomas quickly walked away from you, pulling the motor of the chainsaw hard, turning it on with just two attempts to start it and with both hands he lifted it closed to the man, placing it on the crotch of the bastard who abused your innocence cutting him in half until he reached his neck.

Drops of blood jumped everywhere, Thomas was covered in it and you could feel the warm liquid wet your face.

You couldn't believe what you saw, but you couldn't believe that a feeling of fear didn't take over inside you, you had seen Thomas murder a man but inside you the only thing you felt was satisfaction and a small flight of butterflies, your Tommy, he had spent the entire night looking for the men who harmed his precious girl and was making them pay.

After finishing the first, Thomas looked at you with heavy breathing, he didn't need to say a single word, his eyes spoke for his and you understood his language perfectly

-Him too, Tommy…- you pointed at the blonde man and then touched your chest over the scratches that made your skin look swollen, Thomas didn't think twice when he lifted it again, closed it and moved it over the man, cutting his legs, his waist, his arms making him fall on the wet floor while he screamed in agony and then cut his head, the other man did not seem to react but he was not going to let him leave in peace, so he did the same with him and cut him in half When he finished his work he turned off the chainsaw and walked towards you, leaving it at your side to clean his hands wet with blood on his apron that was equally dirty and wet.

Your heart was beating fast, you were not afraid of Thomas, you did not feel in danger nor did you feel disgusted by him, on the contrary, it seemed that by seeing him perform the sickest actions he had finished convincing you of what you had begun to suspect years ago, what you felt was a deep and true love for the one who had done everything to heal you and defend your dignity.

-You did very well Tommy - you smiled at him, placing your hands on his cheeks over the mask, his blue eyes were so calm that it didn't look like he had finished with three men a few seconds ago, his forehead rested on yours while your fingers caressed his slow hair - thanks for taking care of me

He just gave a light growl as he hugged you around the waist, he wasn't going to let anyone else touch his little cherry, not even the sun could hurt your skin because he would be able to do anything to destroy it.

That afternoon and after Monty had spent the entire previous day making three graves in the back garden, Charlie, Luda, Thomas and you went out to say goodbye to your family, Luda had picked a couple of flowers in the front garden and Charlie surprised you when with his worldly mouth he said some beautiful words to say goodbye to your mama and your little sisters, Tommy never left your side, he was holding your hand, making sure your fragile legs did not collapse and make you fall.

-Well, all that remains us to say welcome to the family y/n, it will be a pleasure for us if you are a Hewitt, what'ya think? -Charlie approached you while Thomas worked hard to cover the graves with the dirt he threw with a shovel.

-Charlie… you shouldn't say that, it's so sudden.- Luda Mae looked at him, scolding him. She knew he wouldn't last long without saying an injudicious comment and she wasn't wrong.

-It's okay, Moma - you smiled at Luda, holding the small flowers waiting to put them on the graves. - It will be a pleasure for me to share Tommy's last name

-You see, mom - Charlie smiled, chewing his tobacco - our Tommy will be happy honey, welcome to the family

You barely placed the small flowers on the three graves and caressed the wood signs where the names of your family could be read, Tommy took your hand, caressing it carefully, with pain in your back you hug him, your arms were barely able to surround his torso as you continued reading over and over again the name on the wood that functioned as a tombstone.

-Do you think it's okay that I'm a Hewitt Tommy? - You raised your head looking at his eyes despite the rays of sun that crossed his long locks of hair, he just looked at you smiling a little making his eyes narrow as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders - Then I won't hesitate to tell everyone I meet that i am Mrs. Hewitt

Your hand took his slowly walking together to the house while you talked about things that he only answered by nodding or shaking his head, just when you were both a couple of steps away from reaching the entrance of the house the sound of tires made you both turn around to look at the car that came down the road approaching you

-Now what this people want? These damn city dwellers get lost and come to disturb my property - Luda Mae sighs, annoyed, looking from the porch.

-Come in Tommy…let me bring you your apron so you can work - you smiled as you entered the house knowing that now the family business needed you.

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[mal0nneiiii]

sans x reader cw: ecto pussy, reader w/ a strap-on, begging haha oops uh-- how'd this get here

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

"stars, baby please--!"

His voice is breaking as you drive your strap further into his needy cunt. The light of his magic is a beautiful cerulean, running down his femurs. You can feel his metacarpals trembling from where they're digging into your shoulders. The movements of his hips are clumsy, uneven. Poor lazybones doesn't even know how to ride you properly.. Your hands smooth down his chest, fingers dipping between each little divot of his ribs. His SOUL glows a little brighter.

"Please what? You've gotta use your words, y'know.."

All you get in response is a depraved whimper that sends a jolt of arousal right between your thighs. Your lips brush along his neck and a melodic rattle of his bones fills the room. "c-can't-- it's.. hmmff!" He frustratedly grumbles. "If you won't tell me, I'm gonna lay back and make you do all the work." ... He mumbles something intelligible into the crook of your neck. "Words, Sansy." Your palm flattens and smoothes along the curve of his spine, hand buried to the wrist underneath his ribcage. The small skeleton writhes from your touch. Slick dribbles from his neglected cunt as he gives weak little rolls of his hip to seek more of that delicious friction. His entire skull is almost azure in color, eyelights in the shape of wobbly hearts. "haa--ah! fuck me! please, 'm beggin ya here; fuck me already!" The moment you thrust into him at last, he moans in utter relief. You've never heard him reach that pitch before. You hit him in all the right spots, fill him in all the right ways. He can't get enough of you. His phalanges are clawing at the straps of your halter, trying to pull you ever closer and deeper to him. More, more, more. He just wants you and everything you're willing to give him. "yes!! harder! i can take it baby, i swear! jus' don't stop, pleasepleaseplease--" He prattles more into mindless babbling the closer he gets to his release. You whisper praises against his sternum, the thrum of his magic tingling against your lips. The moment he reaches his peak, he's howling your name to the stars above. You're there to help bring him back down to earth again, cradling the limp bag of bones in your lap and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his skull. Would Sans call himself greedy?

Not necessarily.. but when it comes to you, well; he wants everything.

[lis-likes-fics]

w1sh u were here

Pairings: Hobie Brown x Reader Word Count: 809 words Kink: Sexting Warnings: NSFW, sexting, sending nudes, technically pornography?, swearing, dirty texting... A/N: I lied, I am posting today bc I managed to pull something out of my ass. I hope you enjoyed this short fic bc the hardest thing about this was making all of Hobie's texts. I am a firm believer in Hobie being a terrible texter bc he doesn't commit to one style, and I hate him for it. Enjoy this fluffy smut. <3

hobes: I can’t stop thinking about you, luv.

you: oh yeah? what are you thinking about?

hobes: jus wonderin wut ur wearin 😘

you: your hoodie

hobes: and?

you: nothing.

You sent an image.

hobes: fuck… hobes: You look fuckin amazing in my clothes babe

you: thx bby

hobes: you’d look even better without em tho. Just sayin

you: you tryna get me to send nudes, perv?

hobes: Maybe…😉 hobie: w1sh u were here rn

you: me too

you: what would you do if i was?

hobes: i’d kiss you. a lot. i’d never stop kissing you luv hobes: And, after that, I’d play with your nipples and listen to you start to moan. I’d be so hard for you, sweetheart…

you: yeah?

hobes: yea. id suck on ur tits and feel how wet u were for me.

you: how would you touch me?

hobes: Id put my fingers in your tight pussy, feel you up nice and good, rub at your little clit. hobes: You’d be fucking soaking, I know it. I’d eat you up, darling. hobes: tell me wut u want me to do to u luv

you: everything you said. want you to kiss me, want you to touch me, want your tongue on my tits and your fingers in me.

hobes: want me to eat you up?

you: yes

hobes: I’d make you feel so good. You’d be moaning so loud for me.

you: i wanna ride your face, hobie

hobes: i want you to ride my face

you: guess what?

hobes: wut?

you: i’m touching myself.

hobes: fuck. for me?

you: all for you.

You sent a video. “Fuck, Hobie. Wish you were here…”

hobes: chr1st u sound so pretty when u rub ur cl1t l1ke that

hobes sent a video. “I need your pretty little pussy over here, sweetheart. See what you do to me?”

you: fuck, you’re so hard you: you know what i wanna do?

hobes: Tell me.

you: wanna get on my knees and suck you off.

hobes: yeah?

you: yeah. i wanna feel your hands in my hair when i suck your cock. want you to call me your good girl.

hobes: u r my good girl, babes. ur my best fukn girl.

you: fuck, i’m so wet for you, hobie. wish you were here to touch me. my fingers don’t work as well as yours do…

hobes: Can’t get em far enough? You need my fingers to stretch you out nice and wide?

you: yeah. you: want you to pin me to a wall and fuck me

hobes: fuck youd love that wouldnt you? hobes: I’d pin your hands above your head and kiss you, turn you around and hold onto your beautiful fucking hips. You’d be squirming when I put my cock in you. hobes: Youd be beggin me to fuck you darling and youd be moanin like fuckin crazy for me, Id hold your tits and keep you still while I fucked you from behind and you would scream when you came on my cock. Id just keep fuckin you too hobes: still with me luv?

you: hard to type with one hand

hobes: gonna fucken take you to bed and put your legs on my shoulders. fold you in half while i fucked you babes. you’d be all messy for me.

you: i’m messy for you right now

You sent an image. “Mmm. Ah, I need you, baby. Fuck, m-yeah…”

you: this pussy’s missing you, baby

hobes: this dick’s missing you hobes: I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.

you: me too you: hobie i’m so close.

hobes: will you send me another pic baby?

You sent a video. “Hobie! Hobie, I’m cumming!  Fuck, I miss you so much. Ahhh, fuck!”

hobes sent a video. “Fuck. Mm-mmh, fuck. Yeah. Oh, fuck, yeah! Oh, sweetheart.” hobes sent an image.

you: fuck, hobie

hobes sent a voice message. “I love you, sweetheart. Wish you were here so I could show you how much. You make me so happy and you get me so hard, and I can’t wait to see you soon so I can kiss that pretty face you’ve got. Love you so much, darling.”

You sent a voice message. “I love you, too, baby. I can’t wait to see you either because, when I do, I’m kissing you so hard, you’ll pass out.” You sent a voice message. “Get some sleep… I know you have to  go to 928 tomorrow, and you’ll come see me after. I’ll be waiting for me. I love you.”

hobes: i luv u 2 bby

you: your typing is atrocious.

hobes: Thank you.

you: goodnight, bayb

hobes: “bayb”

you: shut the fuck up.

hobes: make me 😍

you: you make me sick.

hobes: I love you, too. Night.

you: night. go to sleep now.

hobes: no <3

You changed “hobes” to “hobo”.

hobo: :(

Tag yourself here...

[marsprincess889]

JYESHTA

The battle, the loneliness and the cost of victory

Mercury ruled, Mars's sign.

A very lonely nakshatra indeed. Jyeshta means "the eldest" and it's also known as "the best". But what does that all mean?

To understand Jyeshta, we have to remember that it's fully in the sign of Scorpio. The previous nakshatra- Anuradha, also fully in Scorpio, is its yoni consort. Scorpio is the natural ruler of the 8th house of death, transformation and the occult. It's shrouded in secrecy, yet Jyeshta nakshatra still manages to be one of the most notorious lunar mansions.

Jyeshta's symbol is a round protective talisman or an umbrella. It's ruling deity is Indra- the lightning god and the king of the gods, who is covered in eyes and thus sees everything. The goddess associated with Jyeshta is Dhumavati- an old hag who's always hungry. Jyeshta natives are known for their success in the material realm, but little do most know that there's a lot more to it than that.

We begin the story of Jyeshta with a somewhat outcasted underdog. They're not that understood, they are independent by nature, and most importantly, they do not trust a soul. Why so defensive, some might ask, but that's the eyes from which Jyeshtas see the world. Despite humble begginings, they're usually not pitied or treated as a victim. Since they do not like asking for help, they rarely get it, and honestly, that's the way they like it.

The underdog enters the world stage, immideately attracting attention because they do not follow anyone else's rules, but rather- their own. They have their uniqueness that protects them. Combat by combat, they defeat each and every one of their opponents and soon are seen as a new threat. With that comes jealousy, with jealousy comes resentment and/or respect. With all that comes fear. Jyeshta's power is "to rise, conquer and gain courage in battle". The battle is life, but what does it mean to rise and conquer? How does one outsmart their opponents? The answer is you simply do not fight them.

When you view someone as an opponent you automatically set yourself up for losing. The opponents are equals but since you're an individual and since you know that you can't trust anyone but yourself, why would you play by their rules? Why would you equate yourself to them? Jyeshtas honor their own uniquness by protecting their energy (mercury rulership, very similar to Ashlesha) and learning their lesson from the previous mercury-ruled nakshatra- Ashlesha, they only engage in a fight with worthy opponents. Jyeshtas know they're only one worthy opponent for them and that's themselves. So, they just work on being better and better, not getting distracted by petty and unimportant squabbles, literally rising above the unnessecary conflict and thus conquering everything they rose above.

But is success all there is to life? Jyeshta is the survivor, always thinking about the next step and enjoying the independence despite being so widely disliked because of their difference, because of their uniqueness and success. Sure, they're content being themselves, but as natural loners they struggle with emotional intelligence, hence their reputation as insensitive jerks for masculine people or rude bitches for feminine people.

A Jyeshta story- The Queen's Gambit

I want to analyze a fictional Jyeshta story that has been brought to life on screen- The Queen's Gambit. The writer of the novel - Walter Tevis had Ketu in Jyeshta nakshatra. Ketu represents your stored primal creative energy, past lives, the past in general, the father's lineage and a person's daemon. A daemon is basically the opposite sex version of you who is the personification of your creative and sexual energy. Walter Tevis wrote about the archetype of a Jyeshta woman, making her the protagonist of his story. Considering that I haven't read the book, I'll analyze the Netflix series that it inspired.

Chess overall is a very Jyeshta game. It's a competitive sport but it requires concentration, intelligence, discipline, talent and skill. If you make one miscalculation, then you're lost.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Our protagonist, Beth Harmon, begins as an 8 year old girl who lost her mother and was taken to an orphanage. There she never looked at elders the same way that others did, having a critical mind and an independence and uniqueness to her that set her apart from others from an early age. She was exceptionally good at maths and unusually so, considering her age. One day, she goes into the basement and finds the custodian_ Mr. Shaibel playing chess with himself. She's immideately drawn to the game and doesn't leave him alone until he explains the rules. Since then, she's hooked.

She eventually leaves the orphanage, getting adopted by a childless couple at 15. She already thinks like an adult and treats her new mother's authority like it's nothing and she's not really challenged in that. Jyeshta is the stage where you're the authority, you're the only one who's responsible for yourself, you're the eldest, the wisest and that energy makes others want to depend on you in one way or another. It's where you find the strength in yourself to make everyone else submit. So, Beth started to earn money by playing chess. It's important to note that her new mother had a drinking problem and despite that, Beth didn't drink herself before she thought she deserved it. Only after achieving some success does she slowly start getting addicted to substances, her addiction increasing as her success grew bigger.

Being the best in the game was not exactly easy for Beth, as she struggled with her love life. Jyeshtas are often not concerned with the emotional aspect of life, despite having a certain sensuality to themselves. They're naturally closed off and because of that many people find them mysterious. They won't hesitate to to attack anyone though, but their every move is calculated and planned.

Beth was bullied at school and that's a common Jyeshta theme (see my The Princess Diaries post) but she never paid any attention to it and later we see the mean girl she was at school with living a completely different life than her- the one that she would not want. The scene perfectly captures the difference between the Jyeshta archetype and the masses. Jyeshta is focused on winning, defeating themselves and by that defeating their opponents so they have little time for anything else. In contrast, her high school classmate was married and with a child, living a typical suburban American life.

In another scene, we see her success and loneliness turn to arrogance and rudeness as she encounters and old opponent, friend and ex-lover who was living a simple life and showed his contentment with that. That shows a more negative and quite a sad side of the Jyeshta archetype.

She hits rock bottom, starts to lose her focus and at the last minute, when she has no money to fly to Moscow for the tournament, a helping hand comes in. We'll get into why she accepts that help.

Her helper was her childhood friend from the orphanage_ Jolene, who was snarky and honest to her from the start. It's very telling that she was Beth's first friend. Jyeshta is a full-circle moment, it's the growing into your own power after you've defeated your past self, after you've managed to move on from past pains. When Beth had had closure with Jolene and after attending Mr. Shaibel's funeral, she goes into the orphanage and enters the basement. She sees how he had all the newspaper pages about Beth taped to the wall. Beth breaks down and cries. After confronting the core part of herself, she accepts help from Jolene because she's already healed that part of herself, so she'll have no unwelcome ties with Jolene, only the one she chose. She's conquered herself from that time and now is free to rule it. The only thing that was left to do was to go out there and be herself, because after you defeat yourself, there's truly no one else to defeat.

She defeats the Soviet champion and and makes peace with all parts of herself. When she's about to leave Moscow Beth gets out of the car and takes a walk, truly enjoying life. With the war with herself behind, she remembered why she's so good at chess, because she truly loves it so much. She enjoyed the competition and the tension, she loved the battle. There was no reason not to, not when she was unafraid of being who she was. After all these combats, she realized that there was only one real enemy-herself, and defeating that enemy requires bravery, the strength to bear the hardship and skill, a lot of skill to survive and all of that based on cunning.

When you realize that, the world is your oyster. It's all a game, and it's your game, you're alone.

She sees a big group of old men playing chess with each other in a park. Beth stops by, and the men, recognizing her, invite her to play. Beth sits down, smiling, knowing they'll both enjoy the game she takes her gloves off and says...

If you liked this PLEASE like, comment or reblog, or even message me. If you have jyeshta or if you know them or if you like The Queen's Gambit, definitely let me know what you think. This was a bit stressful, considering my ketu is in jyeshta and it was not easy to dig into the deepest parts of myself. This series came out while i was going through a ketu antardasha that shook me to the core and it spoke to me so much. Anyways, thanks for reading, love you and take care 🤍.

[radioactivatedspider]

Sensitive Girl

Main Masterlist Supernatural Masterlist

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Pairings; Dean Winchester x reader

Genre; Kink/BDSM (light), Contemporary Romance, PWP (Plot What Plot?), Emotional Intimacy

Warnings; NSFW content, overstimulation, consensual bondage (straps), vibrator use, oral sex (female receiving), mild orgasm control/denial, dirty talk, soft dom!Dean, aftercare implied.

Summary: Strapped down and helpless, Y/N’s sensitive body melts under Dean’s slow, teasing touch as he drives her wild with a vibrator—each orgasm hotter and longer than the last, his love and control pushing her to the edge again and again.

642 words

You were already shaking by the time Dean clicked the vibrator to the second setting.

Strapped down to the bed in the bunker—hands bound above your head, thighs spread and secured to the posts—your body was flushed and trembling, drenched in sweat and slick. Dean was on his knees between your legs, bare chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His green eyes were sharp, laser-focused on the way your soaked, swollen pussy fluttered around nothing, clit twitching with every ghost of the toy he hadn’t even fully pressed into you yet.

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” Dean murmured, running a warm palm up your thigh. “Look at this little thing.” He tapped your clit with the vibrator and watched your whole body jolt. “Pinkest, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip. Your body arched off the bed as best it could, held tight by the cuffs and leather straps. Everything felt hot—your skin, your core, your breath that kept coming out in shaky pants. You were already two orgasms in, and the third was building fast.

“Dean—Dean, please,” you moaned, voice nearly cracking.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing slow circles just beside your clit now, deliberately avoiding it. “Use your words.”

“I—I can’t take it,” you whimpered. “It’s too much.”

His brows lifted slightly, lips twitching at the corners.

“That so?” he muttered, teasing the vibrator down through your folds again. “This pussy says otherwise. She’s beggin’ me for more.”

You cried out when he pressed the toy flush to your clit again, on the third setting now—buzzing, torturously steady. Your legs shook against the restraints as your hips rolled without your permission. You were soaked, dripping down onto the towel Dean had tossed under your ass before he started.

He leaned forward, breath fanning over your core as he held the vibrator in place.

“C’mon, baby. Give it to me,” he rasped. “Wanna see that cute little face when you come. Wanna feel how hard you squeeze when you fall apart. Let me have it.”

The orgasm came fast—sharp and dizzying, tearing a cry from your throat. You arched against the cuffs, your clit pulsing wildly as tears slipped from your lashes. Dean watched the whole thing unfold like it was a goddamn miracle, and when you came down, your breath catching on sobs and giggles and little whines, he only kissed the inside of your thigh.

Then flicked the toy to the fourth setting.

You shrieked.

“Dean!”

“I know, baby, I know,” he crooned, kissing your mound as he slid the toy over your clit again, softer this time, letting it hum against the swollen bundle of nerves. “I got you. I got you. Just a little more.”

You squirmed against the sheets, tugging at the leather cuffs, thighs trembling violently. Your pussy was so wet it sounded obscene, the toy sloshing through slick every time he moved it.

Dean’s other hand gripped your waist, holding you still. “This sensitive little body of yours,” he murmured. “She was made for this. You were made for me.”

You couldn’t respond. You could only sob and moan and pant as the fourth orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled. Your thighs locked. Your throat went raw calling his name.

“Atta girl,” he whispered, kissing your clit gently now. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

The vibrator finally stopped. The room spun. And Dean gently, carefully, undid your restraints.

You fell into his arms, all soft and warm and dazed.

“I got you,” he murmured again, wrapping a blanket around your spent body and pressing kisses to your forehead. “You did so good, baby. My good girl.”

You barely whispered against his neck, voice broken and sweet. “Love you.”

Dean smiled against your hair. “Yeah, I love you too. Sensitive little thing.”

And he’d do it all again tomorrow.

Taglist: @star-yawnznn

[nalesnik-z-morela]

Good Omens The Final bingo bc i've been having Thoughts sice i watched s1 and s2

About the way of presenting the movie:

🔹Narration like in s1

🔹Minisode(s)? (i'm almost hopeless)

🔹"The present day" boards [btw how tf long are Aziracrow going to be in the divorce??]

🔹S1 and s2 references

🔹New stuff from s1 and s2 we'll understand better/differently after watching the final (like Crowley jokingly pointing some weapon at Aziraphale in s1) (or i hope that w/out reading the book but after watching The Final, for example, it would be more obvious that it was Aziraphale who set this policeman's notes on fire)

Stuff i really hope to see (🔶) and everything else i think would make sense in the series (🔸):

🔶Book references that weren't used yet (well, im pretty sure we'll get those)

🔶Clear Terry Partchett vibes from the book (i need this, the whole fandom does)

🔶Aziracrow dancing waltz to the main theme PLEASE

🔶The dance ending (inspired by "Tango" by S. Mrożek, i will elaborate on that because i came up with beautiful symbolism to this, the link will be here when i make the post)

🔶Aura Centauri reference? (It would make perfect sense with the theory post to-be-linked above at at least two levels)

🔶Aziraphale and Crowley wearing clothes that aren't they usual colours as a symbol of not belonging anymore to Hell or Heaven

🔶"Just enough of a bastard to be worth liking"

🔶"My dear", "dearest" (PLES IM BEGGIN ON MY KNES)

🔶Silly Bible references

🔸The thing opening car window -?? The time corb?

🔸Crowley saving Aziraphale

🔸Or Aziraphale saving Crowley

🔸Aziraphale in Heaven doing Inteligent Stuff™/looking for clues, trying to break the system

🔸Aziraphale getting that the system is broken? Quitting paricipating in it??

🔸They both feeling lonley ;-; (the Bildad episode reference intended)

🔸Crowley stopping time

🔸Or Crowley trying to make time go faster? Or just sleeping? [Fuck nah, that's too depressive] (is it even possible to wake him up if he can sleep any amount of time?)

🔸14th century? Aziraphale alone? (Aziraphale bringing 14th century vibes to the function [Heaven] bc it's the only time he was alone for such long time??)

🔸Crowley not following fashion or trends bc he feels that what he has now is somehow connected to Aziraphale

🔸"Show must go on" by Queen

🔸Aziraphale "falling" (realising Heaven doesn't want everybody's good and neither his, loosing his beliefs in it)

🔸Aziraphale not being able to handle stuff in Heaven and missing Earth (that he misses Crowley is obvious, he will fkn discorporate)

🔸"Nothing lasts forever" in a positive way

🔸Aziracrow holding each other's hands, touching (protectively), physical touch as love language pls ;-;

🔸Other love languages

🔸Aziraphale being protective about Crowley

🔸[Will this be the season where it's Aziraphale of them two who walks first again in the intro? Will they be there together at all? Probably not, maybe they will take turns] (edit: will there even be an intro? I hope so)

🔸The end of Earth? What will it be? Will it happen at all?

🔸The end of Crowley and Aziraphale? (Please don't)

🔸 Aziraphale and Crowley doubting their decision? At least not being sure anymore about it?

🔸Crowley honestly talking about his feelings of any kind

🔸So fkn tired, everyone

🔸Aziraphale being badass (just as in the books), maybe the "fall" would make him be more like this

🔸Aziraphale not being able to think while stressed (like when he made up Jim name, or told angels the Half Miracle was about love etc)

🔸Wings (maybe Aziraphale protecting Crowley from Hell and Crowley protecting Azi from Heaven)

🔸Aziraphale getting suddenly obsessed and lit up over something (like with The Clues, magic tricks, gavotte etc.)

🔸Crowley's flat again

🔸Any Crowley's music besides Queen and The Velvet Underground (because not only he has the Bentley, at his flat he has a whole collection! Ordered alphabetically! We get tones of Aziraphale's books but no Crowley's music. Or am i overlooking something?)

Because i need it and Aziracrow needs it but i'm afraid to hope for it:

🟡Aziraphale and Crowley hugging, embracing (comfortingly, comfortably)

🟡"If performing at the West End doesn't make you a professional conjurer, i don't know what does" paralel but the most honest, from the bottom of heart

🟡"I told you to trust me. And you did!" paralel

🟡Angel and demon dancing on a top of a pin

🟡"Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen (it wouldn't really add much in most contexts i'm imagining but one: as a contrast to those tough, depressive even, times of separation, i just need Aziracrow to have a really good time together, pretty please)

About characters and lore bc im curious (or just because):

◽More Gabriel & Beelzebub content

◽More angel Crowley content

◽Bentley playing Aziraphale's music

◽God

◽The rooftop scene from s2 intro

◽"You get people wet, they're standing in the rain, look each other in the eyes and - vavoom! They realise they were meant for each other" but it's Aziracrow (jk... unless?) (edit: well it actually already happened as im thinking about it now)

◽Adam?????

◽The four horsepeople because the world is ending again (i want those bikers who were behind them in the book to have The Conversation)

◽Characters like Tyler, you know the kind

◽Agness Nutter prophecies?

◽Past apology dance(s)

◽Maggie and Nina seeing that something is definitely not alright, also not knowing where Aziraphale is

◽Muriel learning to interact with people (i mean the process)

◽Aziraphale-Adam paralel: Aziraphale telling God that they're not his parent (the paralel shouldn't be exact but the line should stand, i think)

◽Aziraphale telling God/Heaven that he's a fallen angel (as he thought in the Bildad episode), maybe telling other angels that they are/should be fallen

◽"That is not on!" and present Cowley as contrast paralels (;-;)

◽Stairs to/from Heaven/Hell (not elevators)

◽Why is Metatron a thing

◽What did Metatron need Muriel for (except for replacing Aziraphale)? They're literally waiting to see

◽Who miracled Bentley? Was it Crowley or was it not?

◽Aziraphale's golden marks

◽The 1941 photo

◽I'd like to point out that tartan probably WAS fashionable at some point, what does Crowley think about it? Can we see him in it?

◽Aziraphale lying to God. Again.

◽Is Aziraphale insecure about his body? ("Crowley's" fit while bathing in holy water, his everyday fits, his reaction to Gabriel telling him he's fat etc he's litterally me, no free will in that brain)

◽Did something happen between 1941 and (as far as i remember) 1967 and if so, what was it

◽Miscomunication as a parallel to the wink of the two nuns (or was what we've got everything we're getting?)

◽Nina being silly in a sister Mary way

◽War between Heaven and Hell, before the beginning (also i want to know what monkey Furfur was talking about. Or if it's just me not getting a reference)

◽Creation of Hell, Lucifer and all the demons

◽Time loop?

◽Aziraphale's ring lore (maybe it has something to do with Heaven, i want symbolic stuff with it)

◽Who called Aziraphale to ask about Agnes Nutter's book in s1?

◽Other demons pre fall

◽Heaven lore