#Girl really carried him all the way up to Sanctuary on her own.

[cowgurrrl]

I present more Joel Miller headcanons: Pre-Outbreak Edition

Author’s note: that ask about preoutbreak!Joel got me thinkin 🤔 (gif by @userpascals)

Oh my god he’s so soft

He definitely went to Mommy and Me playtimes with Sarah after her mom left to try to make friends and all the moms couldn’t stop talking about the young hot dad

Got into contracting because his dad owned the business and let him come on as a partner when Sarah’s mom got pregnant

Tommy definitely moves in with Joel once he returns from Desert Storm and helps Joel raise Sarah (even though he’s still a kid himself)

Joel is a Worrier™️. Every time Sarah would lose a little bit of weight or fall behind on a milestone, he would be rushing to call her pediatrician or his mom to make sure he didn’t accidentally break his daughter

Have you seen that TikTok of the baby laying on his dad’s guitar? I totally think Joel would’ve played guitar and sang for Sarah on nights when she couldn’t sleep

There’s a great picture Tommy took floating around somewhere in Austin of a three-month old Sarah reaching for Joel’s guitar while he looks down at her and sings. He looks so tired and his hair is a mess and there’s spit up on his shirt but his eyes are so bright and happy

Her favorite song was Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker and Joel could probably play it with his eyes closed

Joel would totally be the dad to carry his baby around in a Baby Bjorne so he can have free hands. Sarah loved it so much that when she outgrew it, they both had trouble adjusting

Sarah loves going to the zoo so much as a toddler that one year Joel splurges and gets them season passes

They end up in the butterfly sanctuary or the aquarium for HOURS every weekend

That girl ADORES her dad and uncle like those men are her whole world

Sarah takes her first steps in the kitchen because Joel put her down and she was DETERMINED to make it known how much she wanted to be held (yes, Joel cried)

Her first word is Dada (yes, Joel cried)

On her first day of kindergarten, Sarah had no problems walking right into school with her huge looking backpack but Joel was the one who lingered in the doorway, watching his little girl go and make friends on her own for the first time ever (yes, Joel cried)

He really tries not to work so much but life and bills get in the way so he works more than he wants to but he still manages to rent the newest Disney movie from Blockbuster when it comes out

That man would be so Southern holy shit

His mama raised him to be a polite gentleman and he tries to raise Sarah with the same manners

He would also be the type of Texan who calls everyone pet names. He uses pretty much all of them: mama, honey, sweetheart, darlin’, etc, but baby girl is reserved for Sarah

During Fair Week when Sarah gets out of school, Joel, Tommy, and Sarah load into the truck and go to the county fair

Same thing for Fiesta in San Antonio. It’s a long drive but he justifies it because he gets to spend time with his family

When he gets jobs out in Lockhart or Ottine, he always stops by Buc-ee’s to get Sarah a new shirt

There was one point where Joel Miller was punctual but after Sarah was born, he’s always late

He’s always the last one into PTA meetings, parent-teacher conference, and whatever else but the important thing is that he’s there

As Sarah gets older, he would reach out to her mom every so often, half-hoping she would want to know about Sarah, but never gets a response

They definitely do matching Halloween costumes for as long as she lets him get away with it

Her first Halloween, Joel was a fireman and Sarah was a Dalmatian

Every Christmas season, they go out to the Miller family ranch in West Texas and spend time together. It’s not a lot of property and the house is older than Joel but it’s cozy and Sarah loves it

Joel often feels like he doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to raising Sarah but when she brings home a class assignment for him to hang on the fridge, he cries again

Sarah had to write about heroes. Her class had been learning about firefighters, doctors, and nurses and the kids got to pick anyone and write about why they’re heroes. Some kids picked Spider-Man or their dogs or even the school crossing guard, Mrs. Quintanilla, but Sarah picked her dad

“My dad is my hero because he works very hard! He helps fix people’s houses and gives them safe homes to live in. I love my dad because he is my best friend and he takes care of me and sings to me. That is why my dad is my hero,” her scribbly second grade handwriting is transcribed by her teacher on her paper

He hugged Sarah tight and left it on the fridge for a year before carefully tucking it away in a memory box to look at for when he feels down

Being a single parent is tough but Sarah makes it all worth it

[shadowqueenjude]

Ok Emerie and Nuan: how would they meet?

(also y’all tell me if I should continue this)

Emerie had a wild smile on her face as she cut through the crowd of Illyrians. With Nesta’s death powers on their side and the newly formed Valkyrie group, the shocked Illyrian warriors stood no chance. After some killings, the men began to surrender; they knew they were overpowered. They allowed Emerie to take the women, and it was not long before they’d all been rounded up. Emerie gently sent a teenage girl into the crowd before walking to the front to high-five Gwyn and Nesta. “Another fabulous win, girls. These Valkyries are good enough to revive the legend.” Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie shared conspiratorial grins.

“Where will you be taking this lot?” Nesta asked Emerie, popping one of her homemade samosas into her mouth. “The House of Wind sanctuary is nearly full.”

Emerie shook her head. “No…this group was pretty bad. I think it’s time we take these ladies where they really need to go: the center of healing.”

“Dawn Court?” Nesta asked. “But who will take you there?”

Emerie shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you two need to keep my shop running.” They nodded. “Half the girls can go sleep in the library for the night. The other half is coming with me.”

As Nesta and Gwyn heralded half of the group to the House of Wind, Emerie guided the other half to her own shop. She allowed the women inside, loosening a tile on the floorboard. Underneath it was a ladder that led into a small bunker. Emerie had had it constructed herself in the off chance that she had to do something such as this. She just hadn’t imagined being able to save this many at once.

“If you can’t descend the ladder on your own, tell me,” she said as the ladies formed a line, descending into the bunker one by one. Most were able to get down safely, albeit shakily. A couple of them, Emerie had to carry down the ladder. She was amazed at how strong she had gotten in the past few months. She would’ve been her father’s dream child-if she was a male, that is.

Emerie closed her eyes, thought of her rage towards her father, then let it go like dust on the wind. She tried to give each person a warm blanket from her clothing store, but it was difficult. Emerie technically had a double salary now: one from her business, and one from being a Valkyrie. As a result, she had no problem giving away these clothes for free. They were more important than this business, anyhow.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Emerie said. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Emerie was no healer, but she tried her best to keep the women with severe injuries from getting any worse. Hopefully the Dawn Court would have better things to offer. When she figured out how to get there, at least.

The next day, Emerie tamped down her nerves, finding her best dress to appear before the High Lord of the Night Court. She didn’t trust the male by a long shot; she knew there was bad blood between him and Nesta, and Emerie had a feeling that there was a lot more that Nesta wasn’t telling her and Gwyn. But there was no one else to go to.

Emerie hadn’t worn this dress before because it was once her mother’s, plus it was a little more revealing than she preferred. But seeing how Rhysand’s right hand woman Mor dressed, Emerie suspected that he would appreciate this style of dressing.

The walk from her shop to the residence of Rhysand wasn’t long, especially with her new Valkyrie training. She hardly broke a sweat walking up to the entrance. The guards hardly spared her a glance before letting her in. Emerie swept by them, ignoring the way her stilettos pinched her heels and toes.

She found the Morrigan lounging on a couch nearby, her head in some papers. Emerie looked away. She had a major, frankly embarrassing crush on the woman. It was ridiculous, really; Emerie hadn’t had many female idols to look up to as a child, so the legendary Morrigan who had escaped the Hewn City to become one of the greatest warriors, who was so old she was practically a goddess, had been her idol. Training with her while becoming a Valkyrie had brought to her attention how beautiful she was too. But everything she had learned about her from Nesta made her want to punch her in the face. She wished she could erase her attraction to her too.

“I need to speak with the High Lord,” Emerie said, projecting her voice with authority. Morrigan looked up at her. Emerie willed herself not to react to her big brown eyes staring at her. “He is busy,” Morrigan said dismissively. Bitch. “Come back another day.”

“No,” Emerie snapped, glaring down at her. “This is an emergency.”

Morrigan still demonstrated little sign of urgency aside from placing her papers to the side. “For whom?”

“A group of Illyrian women, if you care,” Emerie snapped. Probably not, since you’ve been sitting on your ass all this time; those thoughts, however, remained unspoken. Morrigan stood up, her papers forgotten. She was in a tight red dress with cuts between her breasts, up the sides of her legs, and around her hips. Did she just dress like that on a regular basis?

“I’ll get you an audience,” she said, striding away. Emerie hurried after her. Emerie found Morrigan knocking on a door with an antique finish that reminded Emerie uncomfortably of her own father’s office door.

After several minutes, the High Lord of Night opened the door, irritation stark in his violet eyes. Emerie refused to be intimidated; this was his job she was doing: protecting his people.

“I need help transporting around thirty women to the Dawn Court,” Emerie said before Rhysand could interrupt. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Emerie suppressed the answer she wanted to give: Why do you think? Instead with forced calm, she answered, “These are Illyrian women who have been abused by the males in their family. Some are hurt-badly. I need to get them out, and the current sanctuary is nearly full.”

Rhysand nodded. “I’ll arrange for that. Wait on top of the House of Wind.” Emerie held in her sigh of relief until she was far away from Rhysand and Morrigan.

While Emerie waited at the top of the House of Wind with the girls, she saw a small group of people with wings coming. Emerie saw red when she realized that one of them was the high lady herself. How dare she, a child not of Night, take their wings as her own while refusing to help the people who lose them every day…

The entire Inner Circle aside from Nesta’s mate was there along with two strange shadowy-looking things that looked similar to Azriel.

“Are the women ready?” Rhysand asked. Emerie nodded. Then they began winnowing the ladies away, or in the shadowsingers and other shadow-like creatures (what were they called again? wraths? that didn’t sound right), melting into darkness. Rhysand himself winnowed her.

When she arrived at the Dawn Court, Emerie was stunned into silence. The soft orange glow of the sky was so peaceful, and even from this distance the buildings looked majestic. The crowd had gathered there, and Emerie pushed herself to the front of the line to speak to border patrol.

“Hello,” she said. Best to be brief and pull rank. “I am Emerie. Carynthian and Valkyrie. Some of these girls are badly injured, and our High Lord requests that you allow these ladies to be healed by the greatest healers Prythian has to offer.”

The guards raised a brow at her qualifications, but they nodded. “You may go in,” the leader said. Emerie gestured to the Illyrians, and for the first time, they entered another court of Prythian.

[sunbecms]

* (   CHAY SUEDE.  CIS MAN.  HE/HIM.   )   ⸺   Ꮺ  ⋆   greetings, buffalos !  walking around campus , sporting his BRAIDED TWINE BRACELET we’ve spotted LEIGHTON DE LOURDES BEHRENS ,  a thirty-two year old who contributes to our thriving community as a DOCTOR. according to our intel , they’ve been around the sanctuary for FIVE YEARS and they DON’T agree with the decision to close the gates . 

trigger warnings :  abuse , addiction , parental issues , violence , alcohol , medical , death 

leighton de lourdes behrens may sound like a fancy , luxurious name , but it carries the weight of anything but to its owner .  as a baby , leighton was born into an environment that yielded nothing positive and no room for a child to grow .  the parents he never had time to know were impoverished and suffering addictions — the only presence of them that remained in his life was his surname , de lourdes .  at the young age in which he ended up in another’s care , he was re-given the name leighton because the caretaker ( a very liberally used term here , as he continued to suffer in their ‘care’ , ) had once read the name in a book and thought it sounded prestigious .  his early identity was practically erased but leighton was none the wiser .   

by the time he entered the foster care system , leighton was hardly a child and had never received proper schooling , structure , or love .  family and trust were not things he’d inherited , and the abusive cycle in which he found himself continued .  leighton was somewhat reclusive , known as a strange loner who kept to himself and could be violent at times if other children - or even adults - tried to mess with him .  he never saw a need to connect with others as they had brought him very little in life anyway . 

it wasn’t until a persistent , pestering girl just a few years younger than him squirmed her way into his world that leighton considered there was value in companionship .  this other child was jack behrens — his foster sister — and after a year or so , the solidified bubble in which he protected himself grew to include jack .  over the years she became his sole family and his other half ; anyone who dared harm jack might as well have been harming leighton , and he would fight back on her behalf without hesitation .  this innate bond served the brother and sister well during and after the outbreak years later .  

despite growth in his personal life , leighton continued to fail miserably in school and often cut class to explore the city , sneak out , and drink underage .  there were a few times he nearly ended up in juvenile hall , and the trajectory of his life did not look bright .  during early years of high school , a rather blunt and observant science teacher pointed out to leighton that he was very smart and talented at life sciences , but that he was wasting all potential and was going to end up being a statistic .  up until this point in his life , leighton had never even considered an alternative , never really thought about his own potential - no one had ever called him smart before .  it was a revelation , and over time this teacher took him under his wing and encouraged him to study medicine . 

by graduation , leighton held on just enough to make it through and get into a community college on scholarship .  his academics were subpar , but his test scores were high and he showed promise .  to everyone’s surprise , leighton made it into med school .  he didn’t quite fit in , didn’t have the correct clothes or books , and if it weren’t for jack’s encouragement and the promise of getting them out of their horrific situation someday , leighton probably would have dropped out . 

he was just starting out his medical schooling when the outbreak began .  he could have completely stopped , but the world was in dire need of doctors as they stood on the front lines dying left and right from the mysterious virus .  leighton became somewhat of a soldier , receiving shoddy medical training and crash courses from a doctor mentor who’d been a guest lecturer , and his skills helped protect himself and jack during their travels until they eventually ended up at the sanctuary .  

even after five years at the sanctuary , leighton still feels restless .  he’s never been able to kick the survival mode he was born in , and his inability to connect with people continues to haunt him oftentimes as an adult .  due to so much of his training being informal , leighton is quietly insecure about his doctor-ing skills and underestimates his own immense talent .  

wanted connections ?? 

➤  a couple confidants , a close friend who leighton can confide in and feel comfortable with when he is too much in his own head or is filled with self doubt ; also an adult mentor who can help keep him on track

➤  bad / good influences , people who persuade leighton one way or another to give into his bad or good tendencies 

➤  ex romantic interest(s) , either former flings that didn’t work out or weren’t too serious , or ex romantic partners who got too close and then either devastated leighton’s heart or vice versa ; gender doesn’t matter . 

➤ a brotp , look i know they’re in the middle of an apocalypse and all that but i love good ole bros being bros sometimes

➤  ( fre ? ) enemies , leighton and this person just clash and probably always will 

➤  opposites attract , friends who are different from leighton and try to pull him from his mental shell 

➤  etc , i’m very open to wcs you want for your own muses or ideas you think may work ! 

[cherricdwines]

closed starter ;

@cvnin-e / zephyr & acre

         ━━━━        A CATHEDRAL OF SHADOWS. the nightclub was a cathedral of shadows where flickering neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat, their glow mingling with the smoke curling in languid tendrils above the crowd. the air buzzed with electric tension, music throbbing through the walls and mimicking the steady rhythm of an unseen predator. bodies swayed together in a ritualistic dance. the whole place felt like a sanctuary of the damned, its occupants slick with sweat and its floors sticky with unknown substances. a place where only those willing to lose themselves — or who had already done so — truly belonged.

zephyr maddon leaned against the back wall, half-hidden in the dim light, her gaze drifting over the sea of strangers and searching for the one face that BURNED like an ember in her thoughts. letting out a slow breath, she felt the weight of the night settle over her like a shroud. the girl couldn’t help but wonder how she ended up in a place like this, where the line between sacred and profane blurred, where secrets buried themselves in the bassline. tugging at the edges of her black dress, fingers brushed the silver cross hanging around her neck. it felt like a mockery, really, this fragile image of purity resting against her skin. skin that still carried the remnants of an illicit encounter. her thoughts slipped into that familiar spiral: the way he had looked at her with something twisted that mirrored her own desires.

they came tonight as something she dared not put a name to and there was a sort of wicked satisfaction that came with being surrounded by people who had not a clue of what festered beneath their facades. a part of zephyr found it poetic — two souls damning themselves under the watchful eye of a world too blind to see.

her eyes caught a glimpse of crimson light flashing across the far wall, a shade that bled like a warning. she felt the pounding bass in her chest, each beat a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. disappear and forget. at least, that’s what he had told her moments before they walked through the front doors. disappear and forget. but the night had a way of twisting intentions, turning the simplest of actions into something laced with consequences.

somewhere out there, he was moving through the throng, closing the distance between them. her fingers tightened around the cross, its edges biting into her skin and for a moment, she wondered if she was praying or merely holding onto the last thread of her conscience. when she finally saw him emerging from the crowd, her pulse quickened — the pull between them undeniable and relentless. refusing to move from her spot in the corner, she waits for his arrival. he seemed to move fluidly, deliberately, as if the chaos of bodies parting for him was just an afterthought. the crowd blurred, colors and lights smearing together. it all became background noise. the drinks, dancing, fleeting touches. the stolen glances and brushes of skin disguised as accidents. it all became peripheral.

she caught the faint scent of smoke and leather as he drew closer — cinnamon and amber trailing close behind. the music throbbed low and heavy, mocking the beating of her heart. nerves spark under her skin as he closes the distance, stopping just shy of touching her. close enough for warmth to BLEED between them. close enough for his presence to overwhelm the air she breathed.

it was maddening. this dance they played always teetering on the edge of disaster. when her eyes flick up to meet his, she doesn’t flinch. no, the corners of her lips curve into a smile. the temptation to reach out, to erase the gap between them gnawed at her. they were surrounded by people, a writhing mass of oblivious strangers lost in their own pursuits. yet here they stood. playing with a fire that was already burning too hot.

acre maddon was magnetic, pulling her closer without him needing to move. tension hung thick in the air, thick enough to taste.

hazel eyes flicker over his face, searching for a crack. for a sign that this — that they brought him a similar feeling of guilt. she found none. just the same hunger reflected back at her. zephyr straightens, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “i thought we were forgetting, disappearing.” her words slip between them like silk.

their connection was like a blade held to their throats, dangerous and thrilling. it was impossible to pull away without leaving scars. perhaps that was the point. they were already tangled in something complicated and the deeper they went, the harder it became to see a way out.

how long could they play this game?

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

(Saw a video on Nicks death lines, got upset, made this to fix it. It turned out a lot longer)

Nick: (Taking cover behind a wall from Triggermen, wounded badly)

Triggermen: (Firing heavily, closing in around the synth Detective)

Nick: (Strained, hand on his chest) “We aren't done here… It'll take more than that…” (Looks down at the blue staining through his clothes) “Oh… thats a lot of coolant…”

Jasmine: (Appears to shoot down the remaining Triggermen, sprinting over) “Dad?!?” (Puts an arm around him to hold him up)

Nick: (Leaning heavily on the teen girl, eyes flickering on and off) (Weakly) “Been roughed up pretty bad here Doll…”

Jasmine: (Glancing Nick over with wide eyes) “Well no SHIT Sherlock!” (Helping him hobble to the exit)

More Triggermen: (Charges into the room, firing at the pair)

Jasmine: (Pushes her and Nick down behind a counter) “Shit...” (Drawing out her pistol with one hand)

Nick: (Pained) “Not… like this…” (Slumps downwards, eyes ominously flicking off and staring into space)

Jasmine: “DADDY NO!!!” (Lays him on the floor, glaring deathly up at the Triggermen) (Through gritted teeth) “Now you'll have to deal with me Fuckers…” (Pulls out her dagger)

[Loud gunshots and screaming, blood splattering everywhere followed by thuds of bodies hitting the floor]

Jasmine: (Runs back to Nick, easily lifting him up using the fireman's carry) “Im not losing you too…” (Makes another mad break for the exit)

[Hours later at Sanctuary]

Nick: (Sitting up on a bed in the Red Rocket station, completely repaired) “Huh?- What the…”

Sturges: “Hey you, you're finally awake-...”

Nick: (Frantically standing up, remembering the last events) “Where's Jasmine?!?”

Jasmine: (Standing in the darkest corner, unmoved since she got them both there) (Quietly) “Here…”

Nick: (Sighs in relief at his daughter being safe) “Hey there kiddo… quite the hectic day we've had huh?”

Jasmine: (Doesn't move, just stares at Nick absently)

Sturges: (Leaves to give them a moment)

Nick: (Assuring smile) “Sweetheart, I’m fine, see?” (Holds out his arms to gesture at himself)

Jasmine: “………” (Slingshots herself into Nicks arms, gripping him in a hug and bursting into tears) “YOU MORON I WAS SCARED AS HELL!!! WHY DID YOU GO IN THERE ALONE?!?”

Nick: (Stumbles back, sitting down on the bed with his crying kid in his arms) “Hey, shhh. Its okay, I am alright now…” (Stroking the teens hair)

Jasmine: (Sobbing in his shirt) “NO IT’S NOT ALRIGHT! YOU KISSED DEATHS ASS AND I WAS THERE TO WITNESS ALL OF IT!!!”

Nick: (Goes quiet at her words)

Jasmine: (Softly whimpering) “I cant lose you too Daddy… I cant… Not like everyone else…”

Nick: (Rocking the girl side to side, placing a kiss on the top of her head) “I know Doll… I‘m so sorry.”

[detachedminxsfics]

Jealous Girl

Characters: Negan x F!Reader

Summary: You and Negan catch feelings for another after the two of you begin having sex on the regular, but you can't have what you want.

Word count: 1.7K+

Warnings: NSFW - Mentions of sexual encounters, implied dom/sub dynamic, worship kink, slight leather glove fetish, decent use of the word fuck because comic accurate Negan *chefs kiss*

A/N: I 100% wrote this whilst listening to Jealous Girl - Lana Del Rey, so consider this heavily inspired by it.

"Darling." Negan rasped, placing his index finger just below your chin and softly cupping it, his thumb brushing lightly across your bottom lip.

Jealousy, it floods you and burns through to the core of your being, as much as you hated to admit it. It was unbearable. Negan was in the hallway, his tongue down Sherry's throat as he pressed her back up against the wall and she ran her hands down the sleeves of his leather jacket. You and Negan, much to the both of yours misfortune, were very much attracted to one another. 'A thing', as most would call it. You were never sure how you two really established your dynamic, just that you spent too much time alone together, and unsurprisingly, one thing led to another. You'd been splayed over the front seats of the loading van as he 'rewarded' you for being so useful on a supply run, had your legs dangling over his shoulders as your sweat glistened bodies stuck to the black leather sofa in his bedroom, just to name a few of your intimate run-ins. But the one time you lifted your head from his chest to give him that look, your pupils blown out in infatuation as you both lay nude sharing warmth with one another and your body rested on top of him, he knew. He knew exactly what you wanted, and he knew just how much he couldn't give it to you. Even if he wanted to. If you wanted him that badly, you'd have to compromise.

"Mhm?" You hummed in response, partially concerned as to why his voice was tinged with that serious tone. It sure as hell grasped your full attention, even in the aftermath of coming down from your orgasm-induced high.

"You're a freaky girl, and you know I like that. But I know you've got your soft side too, and I can see that look in your eye. You can't go falling in love with me baby, you know that." Though his tone softened, his words did not. Harsh, but true.

You'd anticipated this conversation, dreaded it even, but the two of you could no longer delay the inevitable. Your brows began to furrow as the light in your expression began to dampen, nevertheless Negan caught it.

"Hey." He cut you off with a firm and assertive tone, his brows furrowed with thinly veiled irritation. When he was sure he'd grasped your full attention again and that his words would no longer fall on deaf ears, he continued.

"This ain't the 'no strings attached' conversation, cause that won't work for either of us, but this has gotta be kept on the down-low. I go parading you around and I'm breaking my own rules, fuck I'm not even supposed to be screwing around with you in the first place."

Your eyes wandered down to the mattress beneath you. He wasn't wrong. Negan had 6 wives, and they'd all bargained with him one way or another. They agreed to be totally loyal to him, in spite of their previous partners, and cheating was strictly forbidden. As you'd witnessed with your own eyes the act of adultery was mostly punishable by disfiguration or death inflicted upon the offender's paramour, a sentence predictably carried out by the man himself, Sanctuary's own judge, jury and executioner. He was breaking his own rule, the total damned hypocrite he is.

"I know Negan, I know. Just, don't go forgetting about me, okay?"

When you averted your gaze back to meet his eye he was smiling, not a genuine one, but his signature shit-eating grin.

"Hell, doll you got nothing to worry about, I ain't forgetting about that pussy anytime soon."

You scoffed and fawned a look of offense, false of course. You were giggling before you knew it, laughing as you leant in to press your lips on his and whispered.

"Shut up you bastard."

That was the last time you and Negan had spoken, or fucked, so this was possibly the worst first sight of him since then you could've seen. Dwight was just down the hall a little farther from Negan, standing with a handful of saviours all chatting in the halls, and god was he watching. Negan was doing this on purpose of course, to prove a point and put on a show, but that didn't make the temperature of your blood any cooler. When he finally pulled back Negan licked his lonely lips and flashed that arrogant smile, his brows raised as he basked in the joy of exactly what he was doing to Dwight. After he leant in and whispered something in Sherry's ear she gave him a reluctant smile and they parted ways. Sherry headed off down the hall, the sound of her heels reverberating throughout whilst Negan headed into his bedroom. You took a moment and spared the group of saviours down the hall a quick glance just to make sure they'd gotten invested back into whatever conversation they were having and when it seemed all clear, you hurried to his room. No knock awaiting patient permission, no courtesy. You just swung the door open and closed it behind you just as hastily, the sudden entrance capturing Negan's attention distinctly. He was in the middle of carefully laying Lucille down onto the rectangular glass coffee table when you burst in.

"Doll? What are yo-"

"Shut up, stop. I am going fucking insane. I know you'll screw them, I know that you gotta keep up appearances, but this shit hurts." You balled your fists at your sides and huffed as you threw the weight of the words from your shoulders.

You weren't angry with him per say, but more frustrated with yourself. This wasn't your usual self, at least certainly not the version of you that the other saviours were accustomed to. Or the version that Negan was attracted to.

"Slow down, before you go all crazy on me again, okay? I thought we'd spoken about this."

He enunciated his words with that patient sternness again, that way in which he grounded you better than anything you'd ever known.

"We did, but you and Sherry..."

You clenched your jaw, too embarassed to admit to him what he very quickly picked up on.

"Are you jealous?"

There was an underlying excitement in his voice as he questioned you, like he was enjoying the idea of your undivided and desperate attention.

"What do you think?" You sarcastically quipped, it was far easier than saying 'yes' and admitting to it, or lying completely.

Negan leaned back a little, assuming his usual posture, and gave a throaty chuckle. Not mocking you by any means, but almost praising you. Offhandedly, he ceased in removing the last remaining leather glove clad to his left hand and began to stalk towards you, a sickening pep in his step all the while. When he reached you he brushed his bare hand over your cheek, smoothing it over with his thumb.

“Kneel.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You were startled, to say the least. It was the last thing you expected him to say after telling him that it pissed you off to see him making out with somebody else. As strange as it were with the purest of confusion etched across your features Negan removed his hand from your face as you began to lower to your knees, a soft and muted thud sounding after you finally knelt against the concrete floor of his bedroom. He was towering you now, looming over you with that dirty smile and those dark eyes, swirling with all kinds of evil. He raised his gloved hand and began to reach over and grasp your chin, forcing your already titled head to remain upward, gazing up at him wantonly.

“Say it.”

A beat passed in silence, you were too taken aback to fully understand what he was asking.

“Don’t make me ask twice, sweetheart. Who are you?”

You swallowed nervously as he increased the pressure on your jaw a little, the leather of his glove creaking against your skin.

“I’m Negan.”

A smirk played on his lips, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth as his tongue darted out and wet his lips.

“Again.”

This is what Negan does, how he works people. He toys with you, wears you down, finds that thing that makes you tick, and then he drives a knife in it. For you it was your self esteem, you took great pride in the way you held yourself. You were the badass, at least as far as the other saviours knew. You pulled your weight in the gun fights, you minimised the fallout, you were part of Negan’s inner circle. A real higher up in the Sanctuary’s food chain, but next to Negan? You were this. Kneeling, a dazed mess doing whatever he asked of you, and he adored it.

“I’m Negan.”

He breathed in and began to draw out a long and exasperated throaty laugh, or at least the start of one.

“Good girl.”

He praised, leaning down to push his lips against yours with his grip still remaining on your chin. And you returned it with considerable fervour of course, as eager and lust-driven as ever. When he parted his lips from yours he grinned down at you, the sight of your inquisitive eyes gazing up at him fixedly as intoxicating and ego stroking for him as ever. He was dangerously close now, his breath faintly fanning over your lips as he spoke lowly.

“This is what I have over you, okay baby? We’re not equals, and never will be, and you’d do well to remember that. However.” He paused and lifted his leather clad thumb towards your bottom lip, pressing on it and lightly dragging it down, you could almost taste it.

“This is what you got over me. There ain’t nobody in this whole place that can storm up in here the way you just did, unless they got some sort of death wish. But you, no you come up in here full badass, and I fucking love you for it. That’s what makes you special, something you definitely got over any of the girls, over anybody in this whole damned place. And that’s why you could never be one of my wives, you’re better than that, stronger. Understand?”

That was all you ever really needed to hear. It wasn’t perfect, some days would be worse than others most certainly, but it was the flaming apocalypse. You could die tomorrow, or next week, maybe even today. So the impromptu arrangement the two of you had made would have to do. You nodded in response, and he finally removed his gloved hand from your jaw and held it out in front of you for you to take. Placing your hand in his he helped hoist you to your feet, and the air in the room settled again.

“Besides, I’m sure as hell no one can beat you in the bedroom department.”

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[raewritez]

promise

based on this request: hiiii can i request a zuko x earthbender!reader where they get along rlly well when he comes to the air temple and they slowly develop feelings and confess before the final battle? tyyyy ❤️

       Silent tears streamed down your face as Katara held Aang tightly in her arms. You all sat upon Appa, the cool night breeze whipping your hair around as you grasped the sides of the saddle. Katara worked her magic on the lighting wound Azula had marked Aang with minutes ago while you and Sokka took Appa’s reins. You were so scared. You all were. Through her sobs, Katara had managed to explain what had just gone down; the Dai Li, Zuko siding with his sister, and Azula shooting Aang with lightning. You had never hated the Fire Nation Prince more than you did now, his actions filling you to the brim with loathing and animosity. You looked back at Katara’s tear-streaked face, Aang’s head pressed snugly into her neck. He’ll be ok, you assured yourself. He always is. 

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

“Hello, Zuko here.”

You stared in disbelief at the figure in front of you, his hair falling over his face and his arm raised in an awkward hello.

“I heard you guys flying around down there, so, I just thought I'd wait for you here.” 

If you weren't surprised before, you definitely were when Appa suddenly growled and opted to run his giant tongue along Zuko’s face. He explained why he was there, insisting he could teach Aang fire bending and that “he had changed”. You rolled your eyes at that, you’d heard that one before. 

After disclosing that he had sent a literal assassin after all of you, he was sent away, mainly by Katara who possessed no shortage of threats that you had no doubt she would carry through with. Really, who did he think he was?! He had spent months chasing you, there was no way you could trust him. Was there?

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

A couple weeks had passed from the whole Combustion Man incident, and, much to you and Katara’s annoyance, Zuko had been accepted into the group. You spent the first couple days sending him piercing glares and cold shoulders, but as time passed you reluctantly found yourself warming up to him. He wasn’t at all like you had pegged him as, in fact he was probably the biggest dork you knew, and with Sokka as one of your best friends that was saying something. Zuko had embarked on a couple “life changing field trips”, as Toph put it, and in his most recent escapade he and Katara had confronted her mother’s killer. Now, you found yourself standing at the shores of Ember Island, and while you could tell that the place held some painful memories for Zuko, you couldn’t help but enjoy the scenery.

“Y/n” you heard.

You turned around to see Zuko wading out to your spot amongst the shallow waves.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled with a slight smile on his face, one that only you could seem to coax out of him.

“Just enjoying the sunset,” You shrugged. “It’s nice to take a break, Toph has been working me to the ground.” Zuko snickered at that, he had seen how Toph acted as your teacher: yelling and ordering and enjoying her authority much too much for it to be anything less than irritating for you. Although you were a skilled earth bender, Toph was attempting to teach you Metalbending, and all you had managed to do was flip a coin. You loved her dearly, but that girl was pulling at your last nerve.

Zuko placed himself next to you, gazing fondly at your profile before switching his attention to the sky streaked with oranges and reds. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s pretty.”

You nodded you head before turning slightly to look at him. He looked more relaxed than he had in days, reminding you of the whispered conversations you had shared by the firelight when everyone else was asleep, his face free of the worry lines and scowl that deepened over the course of the day. You silently admitted to yourself that he was beautiful, his raven locks sweeping across his forehead and the crimson skin of his scar blending in with the ochre gloaming. His expression suddenly changed, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Aang isn’t taking this seriously,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He wants to spend his time goofing off when there’s a war, when he has to fight my father in a few days!”

He sounded exasperated, and you couldn’t blame him. He had taken another load to his shoulders, the stress of the upcoming fight against the Fire Lord weighing heavily on him.

“Hey,” you said softly, nudging his side you your arm. “It’s going to be fine. Aang’s just a kid, but he has the biggest and bravest heart of anyone I know. He’s an amazing fire bender now! He’ll be ready.” Zuko didn’t look convinced, but he sighed and slumped his head. “You’re probably right.” He turned to you and nudged his head in the crook of your neck, a familiar position for the two of you for when he would wake up from night terrors under the light of the moon. He would silently crawl over to your sleeping bag and lay down near, a respectable amount of space between the two of you, only for you to find yourselves clinging to each other by morning.

You had told yourself he was just a friend, that he was the prince of the Fire Nation and you were only an Earth Kingdom peasant. But in moments like these, when he bared the most vulnerable side of himself to you, it was hard to believe that. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, his arms tenderly wrapped around your waist.

“Come on,” you spoke, lifting his head with your hand. “Let’s go back to the others. I heard Katara is making soup again.”

He perked up at that.

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

It had all happened so fast: Aang went missing, you got help from a cool lady with a shirshu, and you met up with the Order of the White Lotus. You and your friends sat around a campfire making small talk, when you noticed Zuko pacing frantically in front of the entrance to a tent. You stood up and walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Are you ok?” you asked softly.

“No, I'm not okay” he replied. “My uncle hates me, I know it. He loved and supported me in every way he could, and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?”

“Zuko, he loves you. And you’re sorry for what you did, right?” “More sorry than I've been about anything in my entire life.”

“Then he’ll forgive you,” you assured him. “He will.”

He nodded softly, building up his confidence. He gazed into your eyes and opened his mouth as to say something, “Y/n, I...” he trailed off and you looked at him curiously as a blush rose to his face. “I...um...thank you.” He rose to his feet and pushed the curtains apart, sparing you once last glance. 

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

You squirmed around in your sleeping bag, the confines of sleep seeming unbearable. Iroh had informed you all that you needed to split up, for each person to seek out their destiny. Your destiny lay with Sokka, Suki, and Toph; the four of you would depart to the skies at dawn to take down the Fire Nation airfleet. Zuko and Katara would fly to the palace, where Zuko would take down Azula to become Fire Lord. Fire Lord. Your Zuko.  

You shut your eyes tightly, seeking sanctuary from the thoughts raging in your head. You snuggled deeper into your sleeping bag, only for your eyes to snap open when you felt a hand softly shaking you. You glanced up to see Zuko’s face, his expression laced with urgency and something else you couldn’t place.

“I need to talk to you, Y/n” he breathed out.

You nodded and followed him as he lead you away from your sleeping friends. Once you had reached a small clearing, he turned to you and opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/n,” he breathed your name out like a prayer. “I-”

You furrowed your brows. “Zuko?” you questioned, confused about his behavior. He examined your face with such intensity that you were tempted to turn away but his eyes, warm and amber as ever, locked you in place.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, gaping at you in a way you were unfamiliar with.

“Zuko, what’s-” you were cut off as a warm pair of lips pressed against your own. His hands tangled desperately into your hair, and after recovering from your initial shock you quickly snaked your arms around his neck. He kissed you like a starving man, clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him from floating away. 

You reciprocated eagerly, his soft tresses gliding through your fingers as his lips molded with yours. You cupped his face so tenderly that it evoked a whimper from the back of his throat. Eventually you broke apart, thirsting for air, as he nuzzled his face farther into your palm. You glanced up at him, unsure for a moment before shy, soft smiles broke out across both your lips. He leaned forward once again and pressed a delicate kiss against you lips, conveying all the affection and adoration he held for you.

Katara found you the next morning, hand intertwined and relaxed expressions upon both your profiles. She hated to disturb the peace, but there were Fire Lords to make, destinies to actualize.

Later, between whispered goodbyes and tear-stained hugs, Zuko approached you again. He pressed his lips against your hair and leaned his forehead against yours. In his eyes gleamed a silent vow, a promise to return. As he and Katara rose up on Appa and you and your closest friends headed off to your futures, you knew it would be kept.

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

All Cream, No Sugar

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Here is my sfw fic that was submitted to my friend @writing-in-april​ for the 4th Fic Swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ ‘s Discord! Not my best work because I have been struggling to manage time lately and balance everything with my school and personal life. But I hope it is enjoyable nonetheless!

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

It was Thursday. Possibly the worst day of the week. Even more awful than Monday. It always felt like a barricade between the beginning of the week and the weekend. The glorious, lazy weekend. Honestly, now that I think about it...Thursday has the same kind of feel as November.   

I chuckled to myself as I left my apartment. My mind was a special place, and I guess today was no different. Better than thinking about my finals, though. Literally anything was better to think about instead of final exams. That’s why I’m treating myself to a break at my favorite coffee shop. I deserve it, really, after the studying I have been doing all day. At least, that’s what I tell myself so I feel okay about spending all this money on coffee. 

The car ride over there was quick enough. I lived on the outskirts of the city, but this place has the best coffee, and I would drive a ridiculous amount of time to get to it. No matter the distance, it would be worth it. 

And maybe...just maybe…I would see that guy that comes in sometimes. The one with the messy hair and the sweater vests. He was so intriguing. I don’t even know his name, but I always notice when he comes in while I’m there. It was pretty much impossible not to. Hopefully one day I would work up the nerve to talk to him. Maybe that day would be today. 

I walked in the building, and the smell of coffee and sweets immediately hit me. It was so comforting. Almost like a tiny sanctuary away from home, and I was always so appreciative. 

As soon as the little bell on the door rang, the barista behind the counter looked up and shot me a smile. They recognized me quite often. 

“Hey, (Y/N), the usual?” she called from across the floor. 

“You know it,” I said with a wink. 

I took my favorite seat in the shop and looked around. It was pretty empty today, which was just the way I like it. It means less time to wait for my coffee and I can sit in peace. The only thing that would make it better is if that guy came in and I got my big girl pants on to ask him his name. 

After a few minutes, my coffee was brought to me and I handed the waiter some cash for my order, with a good amount leftover for a tip. His smile was bright and thankful, and it made me hopeful for today.

Each time the door opened and another person walked in, my heart skipped a beat. I stopped counting when I got to 10 people that turned out not to be him. It irked me more than I care to admit. 

I was starting to lose hope, staring daggers at the dregs of my leftover coffee. Perhaps I thought I would find him there? I just wanted to see him. 

A tap on my shoulder drew me out of my thoughts. Well, it startled me out of them more like. With a gasp, I jumped and looked up at the person who tapped on me. It was the barista who greeted me and made my coffee. Sophie. My favorite barista to spill all my problems to. 

“You okay? You look like you’re really thinking hard about something.”

I sighed and almost smiled at how ridiculous I was being. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. And I was thinking about something. Can you sit for a minute?”

She nodded, “I’m on break, thankfully.”

Once she took her seat across from me at the tiny table, I wrapped my fingers around the now room temperature coffee cup in front of me. 

“So, what’s up? What could you possibly be thinking about that’s got you looking like that?”

“Um, well. There’s this guy…”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit, as if to ask me to continue. 

“You might have seen him in here before. He comes in as much as I do, which is why I noticed him.”

“What does he look like?”

“Well, he’s tall. He wears sweaters a lot...um…oh, his hair is kind of messy, but in a cute way. And he has this dumb little satchel he carries sometimes-”

“Does he look like that guy?” Sophie asked as she pointed behind me. 

I followed where her finger was pointing by the door and sure enough, he was there. But he was there with another girl I had never seen him with before. She had dark hair and striking eyes, along with a certain air about her that just gave off badass vibes. Of course he would have a girlfriend. And a gorgeous one at that. 

I turned back to Sophie quickly before he noticed me staring. 

“Uh, yeah. That would be him. But I’ve never seen that girl before. It figures, though. Just my luck.”

The pair began walking farther into the shop, talking quietly as they approached the counter to order. The more they talked and smiled at each other, the more my heart seemed to falter. 

“Oh, (Y/N),” Sophie said quietly so only I would hear, “I’m so sorry.” 

I didn’t respond to her. I didn’t have to. The look in my eyes was enough to let her know what I was thinking and feeling. 

Her break was about to be over, so she placed a hand gently on top of mine, and with a small smile, left me there. 

Well, there was only one thing left to do. Get another coffee, and maybe something sweet to drown my sorrows in. 

I took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing my empty cup to throw away when I got to the front to order. I didn’t see them anywhere now. They must have ordered already and found a seat. But truthfully, I didn’t look around for them long. I didn’t want to. 

I ordered a black coffee and a doughnut, and waited for a second for them to hand me my order instead of going back to my table to wait. Sometimes they put too much creamer in the coffee, so this way I could go over to the cream and sugar stand and make it myself. 

Coffee and doughnut in hand, I made my way over to the small fridge they left out for customers to put in their own creamer and milk. I wasn’t really feeling the flavored seasonal creamers they had, so I just grabbed the half and half and started pouring. I didn’t really want any sugar either. I had my doughnut, which I probably wouldn’t even eat to be honest. My stomach was in knots. 

A sudden voice behind me knocked me out of my thoughts. 

“All cream, no sugar, huh? I’m the total opposite.”

I was so startled that my hand seemed to seize up, causing me to jerk the carton of half and half away from the cup. Now there was liquid all over the counter. 

“Oh. I’m so sorry- Here, let me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I still hadn’t looked at who was talking to me, so when the footsteps got closer and I felt someone next to me, I decided I should finally look up. 

It was him. The guy. The one I came here for. Except now he was standing right next to me. 

He grabbed a handful of paper towels and started wiping up the mess on the counter while I stood wide-eyed and in shock. I should probably say something. 

“I’m so sorry. I was...thinking about something and you startled me. I feel so clumsy.”

He looked up at me with a hint of a smile on his face. 

“No, it’s really my fault. I’m not good at talking to people.” 

Once he had finished cleaning up, he threw the paper towels away and turned back towards me. 

“What’s your name? I see you in here sometimes. I guess you could say we’re both regulars.”

A lump formed in my throat that I had to swallow down forcefully. He saw me in here sometimes? He noticed me? Did he ever see me looking at him? Oh no. 

“Um, my name is (Y/N). I see you in here sometimes too. The coffee here is really good, yeah?”

He smiled again, but bigger and more pronounced this time. Nodding his head, he shifted his bag and looked back at me. 

“My name’s Spencer. It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

Now it was my turn to smile. This was going pretty good, all things considered. It’s too bad about that girl he’s with, though. Speaking of the girl, she was walking towards us right now. Fantastic. Just what my anxiety needed. 

“Spencer, we just got a call. Did you not pay attention to your phone?” the woman said in a hurry as she came closer. 

Spencer jumped a bit and started to dig in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and laughed nervously. 

“I have it on silent. Whoops.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and then seemed to notice me standing there. 

“Ohh, I see. You had it on mute so you could talk to this girl you were telling me about, hmm? Better hope I don’t tell Hotch”

Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times, and I was simply shocked. He wanted to talk to me? Like, on purpose? He told this woman about me?

“I’ll meet you outside, Emily,” Spencer groaned at her.

The woman named Emily smiled at me and winked before leaving. So now it was just me and Spencer, standing awkwardly together. Great. 

“I, um...ignore her. She’s a colleague from work...and apparently my wing woman now.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. So she was just a friend. I had gotten myself all sad and anxious for nothing. Honestly, that’s typical for me though, so…

I could only smile. So much so that it made my cheeks hurt. 

“So, do you have to leave? For work or something?”

Spencer shifted his weight nervously.

“Yeah, I um, yeah I’m sorry. I really would like to stay and talk more. I hope you don’t find it weird I told her about you, by the way. I just notice you in here a lot and I think you’re really pretty and I just-”

He cut himself off suddenly and looked at me sadly.

“I have to go, but here.” 

Hurriedly, he pulled out a scrap piece of paper from his bag and a pen. He leaned over the counter and quickly wrote his name and number on the paper and handed it to me somewhat forcefully. 

“Text me or call me...you know, if you want. Um, I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

He turned on his heel and began walking towards the door. 

“Spencer!” I called across the shop.

Spencer stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me, almost with an excited glint in his eye.

I held the paper he gave me gently in my hand and took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart.

“I noticed you, too.”

[twdbegins]

when you can, can you do a Simon age gap smut, where the reader keeps turning down all the boys her age that try to get with her because she likes older men, can older men do it better and cuz ya know Simon is breathtaking, please and thank you

This got lost in my inbox somehow! So sorry for the wait!

__

Preferences

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language.

Word Count: 1,651

“Are you saying it’s because I’m attractive?”

__

Being in your early twenties is a hard time for anyone. You’re now out of your adolescence years, being thrown into the deep end of adulthood and trying to navigate your way through life. Being thrown in a zombie apocalypse doubled your struggles.

“How many times do I have to tell you no?” You snapped at the puppy eyed guy that had been following you around for the whole day.

Travis was a sweet guy. He meant well and he was always kind to you, but you simply weren’t interested. He was rather persistent that you go out with him or even at least give him a chance. He tried to keep up with your fast pace as you whisked through the hallways.

“Come on, [Y/N]. I’d just like to go out with you sometime,” He attempted to persuade you; “It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. That’s what they all said. It always ended up being a romantic thing, and you weren’t sure how many different ways you could turn him down easily before having to get aggressive.

“Travis. I said no and I mean no.” You said, stopping your fast walk and hoping he’d catch the sharp edge in your tone.

Defeated and dejected, Travis let out a heavy sigh and hung his head. He pushed past you to go sulk for the rest of the day. You didn’t like hurting anyone’s feelings, but sometimes the men around the Sanctuary just couldn’t take a hint. You leaned against the nearest wall, rubbing your forehead stressfully.

There weren’t many younger Saviors here. There were maybe 15 or so that were actually close to your age, and you had turned down probably about 8 of them over the course of your time at the Sanctuary. You just didn’t feel attraction towards any of them. You heard heavy footsteps approaching, accompanied with a low whistle.

“Damn, sweetheart. That’s the third one this week you’ve turned down.” The familiar voice bellowed.

You looked to see Simon striding towards you, his hand motioning to Travis who he had just passed by. You groaned.

“He’s the most stubborn one yet.” You announced, feeling a slight blush as Simon took the vacant spot next to you on the wall.

Truth was, if there were any man at the Sanctuary that you wanted the attention of, it was the infamous right-hand man. Simon was a real man. He was built, strong, intelligent, charming, and devilishly handsome. You had a gut feeling that he knew his way around a woman. If only there was a way you could put your theory to the test.

“Travis is a great guy.” Simon noted.

“Yeah, and so is Alan, Ron, and Cedric,” You said, referring to the other guys you had shut down; “I’m just not interested.”

“You know, most women would be flattered at the amount of attention you get.” Simon pointed out, crossing his arms and looking over at you with his dark brown eyes.

You could smell his cologne. It was faint, but it was heavenly.

“Yeah, but is it because they’re actually interested or because I’m the only available woman around?” You questioned aloud.

You were well aware that (other than Negan’s wives, who were strictly off limits) you were pretty much the only young, spry woman around. The Sanctuary was of male majority, and most of them were incredibly sexually frustrated, especially the younger ones.

“I was that age once. Trust me, there’s other reasons.” Simon said boldly, a grin appearing on his face.

You scoffed, but hid the deepening blush on your face. He was one smooth charmer.

“Are you saying it’s because I’m attractive?” You suggested, really hoping that’s what he meant.

He shrugged.

“Maybe. I mean, if I were in their shoes, I’d try like hell to even get you to spare me a passing glance,” He admitted; “I’m not so sure you’d want to get involved with me though. I’m not exactly 25 anymore.”

You felt a spark of thrill. You had a chance. This chance was too good and too perfect to pass up.

“You might be surprised.” You flirted, trying not to sheepishly smile.

He was surprised. He turned his frame towards you as realization washed over him.

“You saying that you have a thing for older guys?” He pondered.

“Maybe.” You repeated what he had said slyly.

He smirked, a dark chuckle erupting from his chest. He leaned his arm against the wall, drawing closer to you. He was dangerously close. Your lips almost touching.

“I thought I was crazy for thinking that you’re always eye fucking me,” He chided; “I guess my old intuition is still in working order.”

You laughed, slipping just your fingertips into his waistband. This is what you were interested in.

“I wonder what else of yours is in ‘working order’.” You hinted.

He hummed lowly.

“You sure you want to go for it?” He asked for consent.

“Hell yes.” You replied immediately.

His lips crashed into yours, rough kisses that were hungry and unexpected. His hands were under your ass in seconds, hoisting you around his waist and carrying you to his room that wasn’t too far from the hallway you were in. You were making out like a mad, horny teenage couple that hadn’t seen each other for a long summer. You had never been in his room before, but you didn’t care much for looking around at his decor.

He tossed you onto the bed, earning a squeak from you when your back hit the mattress. Both of your clothes were strewn across the room, your naked bodies pressed against one another warmly. His lips were hot on your neck as he sucked harsh hickeys, the slight pain and immense pleasure were a perfect mix. Your moans and the sounds of his lips on your skin were the only sounds in the room.

“You’re already so wet.” He said, reaching and rubbing slow circles onto your clit.

You whimpered out, his fingers working magic on your sensitive sex. He slipped two of his fingers inside of you, his fingers curled and massaged your inner walls, feeling how she was coated with slickness. You had almost forgotten that this was supposed to be about him, but that didn’t stop you from rolling your hips as you began to grind into his fingers.

“Shit. Oh...” You breathed out as he pumped his fingers and curled mercilessly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He growled into your ear; “You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of seeing you like this. You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing to make you feel good.” He said, bringing you close to the beginning of your climax.

But you didn’t want to finish just yet. You stilled his hand, making him withdraw his fingers. He looked you dead in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You felt prideful when he did so.

You purposefully moaned in his ear, sending him over the edge. He was between your knees, having your legs around his waist in seconds. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you firmly around him. He scanned over your naked body that was sprawled out on the bed.

Seeing you laid out underneath him, squirming with expectation was arousing and maddening. There were so many things that you did (some intentional and some not) that drove him absolutely wild. You way you bit your lower lip whenever you caught him staring at you, only using your imagination to wonder what he was thinking when he looked at you.

He pushed his shaft through your folds, relishing and groaning at the feel of you once more. Your alluring sigh signaled him to start moving, pulling out and back in at a rapid pace. Your inviting sounds were music to his ears.

You pushed your body down to meet each of his thrusts, allowing him to hit just the right spot. You could feel the pent up tension that he had built up with each rough entrance back into you. He held your hands above your head, his other hand pinning your hips to the mattress.

He pulled out again and one particular slam back into you caused you to moan louder than normal, causing Simon to speed up even more. Your chest bouncing with his every thrust. You were completely focused on the feeling of him dragging in and out of you. He let out a noise that resembled a growl that sent vibrations all through your body. Every cell in your body felt like it might combust with pleasure.

“You’re such a good girl. Taking me so well,” He said thrusting hard and pounding back into you; “I didn’t know what I’d been missing out on.”

Your face was contorted with ecstasy and pleasure. He watched how your breasts bounced every time he railed back into you, your loud sounds were music to his ears.

“You feel so fucking good. There’s no way Travis could’ve fucked me this good.” You praised, meeting his thrusts halfway.

Simon moved your leg over his shoulder and pounded into you even harder now. You almost cried out at the new angle. Your other leg tightened around him, his dick twitching deep within you.

You involuntarily clenched around him with a pitchy cry, releasing and hitting your high. He felt his own spiral, thrusting a time or two more and spilled his release into you. He groaned in solace, pulling out of you. Your hearts were pounding and your minds were racing. You looked up at him and smiled with joy as the look of euphoria in his eyes. You persuaded him to fall next to you so he didn’t totally collapse.

You grinned at him breathlessly.

“Yeah. I am definitely into older guys.”

[plus-size-reader]

Everything He Wants pt.3

Carl Grimes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2080 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The reader and Carl finally get to the bottom of what they feel for each other, but doing something about it isn’t as easy as it seems. 

Part 1

Part 2 

—————————————————————————————————

There was a bit of awkward silence between all of you for a moment as the men did their best to figure out what was going on.

Clearly, there was something happening but even Carl was lost, and he was part of it. 

Rick and Negan had no hope of understanding, and frankly, that was by design. This was something you were going through with Carl and you didn’t want to involve them.

There was no way this was going to end well.

You couldn’t help but scoff, thinking about how something like that would go down. The two of you in love? It was insane. If Negan could hardly even handle a look shared between the two of you, a conversation would kill him.

However, you couldn’t exactly avoid it.

If you didn’t talk to Carl soon and figure out what was going on here, you were going to lose your mind. 

Since the last time you’d seen him, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the strange feeling you got when you were around him, and you weren’t sure where to go from here.

This wasn’t something you were used to, after all. You had never been in this situation before, but you knew one thing for sure.

It wasn’t in your nature to just accept anything, and the way you felt for Carl made you uncomfortable. Because of that, you needed to know how he was feeling or what was going on in his head before you went crazy.

This was too much.

“Hey Carl, why don’t we get out of here” you suggested, offering your hand to him which he took slowly, completely unsure if he was okay with what was happening. After all, this was just as new for him as it was for you, and it wasn’t exactly foolproof.

Neither of you had ever done this before.

You had no idea how this was going to go down, but to be fair, there was more at stake for Carl. He didn’t want to get his dad into any trouble, but once he deduced that Negan wouldn’t overreact, he followed your lead.

Nothing terrible could come from such a casual action, right? No one was going to die because you had a conversation.

You hoped.

Neither of you spoke until you were far enough away from the rest of the people in Alexandria to have some privacy, but when you did, it was casual enough. You had no idea where this was going, but Carl was easy to talk to.

Easier to talk to than anyone else you’d actually spoken to before.

“I’m so sorry about him, he can be just awful sometimes” you shrugged, acting as if your father had just made some inappropriate joke at a parent teacher conference, instead of being the murderer he truly was.

It was a bit dramatic, of course, but Carl decided it would be best not to address that. Instead, he nodded, trying his best to think of what he wanted to say. 

For some reason, his tongue always went numb around you and made it impossible to speak.

It was pathetic, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you hated him because of it. He should have been able to talk to you, at the very least, but it just didn’t look like that was going to happen.

You made him nervous.

“I’m really glad you came outside” you smiled, forcing yourself to channel some of Negan’s unending confidence you’d grown accustomed to instead of worrying about what could go wrong here.

Worst case, everything went up in flames and even if that happened, you never had to come here again. 

The only thing that could come out of this was good, or at least, something new.

In this world, you lived like every day was your last because it very much could have been, and this wasn’t going to be the end of the world. This was one of those things that people did all the time before.

There was no reason you couldn’t do it now.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I wanted to” he replied, swinging your two joined hands between your bodies. It should have been a casual motion, but instead, it was stiff and uncertain.

He clearly wasn’t much of a talker but that didn’t bother you, you could fill all the empty space there was.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” you hummed, doing your very best to address him. You had no idea what the best way to do this would be, but evidently, you had decided to just throw away all the strangeness in exchange for reality.

You were both real life people and there were no rules about how you needed to do this.

After all, you didn’t owe anyone anything.

“A little” he decided, still blowing his own mind with the fact he was here at all. There was no reason that the two of you should have had anything in common or cared about one another but here you were.

This was just what happened.

“To be fair though, I think that everything is weird anymore” you shrugged, thinking about how everything had changed. 

When you were kids, there was still so much normalcy ahead of you.

You never thought that this was where you would be, but here you were nonetheless.

This was what life was now.

“Yeah”

There was more silence between you as you walked, still holding Carl’s hand in your own, and before long, you were both outside his home, having made a huge circle around the walls of Alexandria.

The streets were still swarming with Saviors and Alexandrians alike as the raid ensued but you paid them no mind. 

For you, this was a real sanctuary, something that you hadn’t had in a long time.

There was just something about being with Carl that made you feel like the world wasn’t constantly on the edge of imploding.

It was nice.

You had no idea where this was going or how this had possibly happened, but you weren’t going to argue. Instead, you followed Carl into his home, ignoring all the saviors still littering the place, and made yourself at home.

“You wanna meet Judith?” he asked, his jaw tightening as he watched a few of your men carry out some boxes of things that they were never going to see again. 

It was just another reminder of why he shouldn’t be here with you at all.

You were always going to be the enemy.

...And even still, he was introducing you to his sister.

She was absolutely precious and you fell in love immediately. She was a giggly, cooing mess and you couldn’t help but swoon. She had this joy that just radiated off of her that no one else in this world could ever hope to imitate.

It was incredible, but as taken as you were with Judith, Carl was with you.

Even knowing that there was no way this was going to work, he couldn’t help himself.

It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t handle the sight of you with Judith cuddled in your arms. It was the most wholesome scene and it took his breath away, because he’d never felt like this before in his life.

He was in way too deep with you and it was going to be the end of him.

All in all, he was completely screwed.

Then, once Judith had gone down for her nap, you found yourself sitting on Carl’s bed, looking through a few dirty comic books. You hadn’t seen them in several years, of course, as the sanctuary didn’t consider them viable goods.

Still, you were glad to see them.

“You have quite the collection here” you hummed, leafing through the pages, now a bit weathered with age and grime. 

This was one thing you didn’t get at home, in the cold industrial environment of the sanctuary.

It wasn’t exactly personal.

Even with all the things that Negan made sure you had, you just felt like there was something more comfortable here than there. It was a home, which was much more than just somewhere that kept you safe.

It was more than a house.

“I like comics” he shrugged back, going out on a limb and sitting down beside you, taking another one of his discarded books in his hands, fiddling with the pages instead of looking you in the face.

He felt weird.

This was weird.

“I like you” you grinned, not looking at him as you spoke, your eyes staying trained on the page in your lap. You had no real idea where a statement like that would get you but you couldn’t help yourself.

You did like him.

There was silence between you both for a few more moments as Carl tried to decide what he wanted to do with that information. 

It wasn’t something that surprised him, because you both had been dancing around how you felt for one another, but that didn’t help him know what to do about it.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say or what you wanted to hear.

“I like you too” he smiled, doing his very best to keep his racing heart from stopping completely. This was shaping up to be the first time a girl ever liked him and that was nice, but he was terrified too.

He had never done anything like this before.

“That’s good, cause that would have made this whole thing a lot more awkward” you laughed, reaching out as gingerly as you could to take one of Carl’s hands in your own.

It wasn’t something that was new for either of you, as you held hands on your way up here but for some reason, this was a little different. 

There was something going on, something strange, but you had already decided to leave it go.

It was what it was.

This was what it was.

You wanted to say more, to do more, but before you could, you heard that familiar boisterous laugh of Negan. More than likely, this whole thing was coming to an end, which meant that you would have to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you didn’t exactly get a choice in the matter.

“I should probably get going. I’ll see you later” you allowed, reluctantly standing from your spot. You were racking your brain, desperately trying to think of any excuse you could find to stay.

...But there wasn’t one.

There was nothing you could say or do that was going to keep you from having to go back to the Sanctuary at some point.

Thankfully though, before you could get too far away from him, Carl decided that he wasn’t willing to just let you go. He was worried about it, worried about what would happen if he let you walk out that door like this.

He needed you to know just how important this whole thing was to him.

Gingerly, he did all that he could to pull you back down to his side with a hand on your wrist. 

Then, before he could remind himself that this whole thing was a terrible idea, he brought his lips to your own.

You had no idea what to do at first, but immediately found yourself kissing him back. It wasn’t something you saw coming, of course, but you couldn’t have been more glad that it was happening.

This was all you needed.

This whole time, the feelings you had for him were just swirling around in your stomach, nearly making you sick. However, now that you were here, pressed up against the male, you knew everything you needed to.

It didn’t matter that the two of you were on opposite sides of the war, or from completely different worlds. The two of you shared something much more important than that, experience.

You were the same age, living through the same things, and you didn’t even want to underestimate how important that was.

“Woah” you hummed, resting your forehead against his own as you tried to figure out how you were going to make this whole thing work. It was strange, but you knew that it was going to be fine.

You’d make it work.

Even Carl knew that.

He may not have been any good with words, but at least Carl could find it in himself to make a move.

[kikilefangirl]

Safety Net

Steve Rogers x Reader

(Word Count: 1.7k)

It was dark, but you knew movement on your property when you saw it.

Your grip on your gun tightened as you stared into the black abyss in front of you. The sound of footsteps crunching across your grass was off—different pairs of feet hitting the ground at different times. You counted more than three.

The gun wasn’t ideal. It was too much of a spectacle for the occasion. You pulled a knife out of its sheath, and sliced it through the air. You stuffed the gun into the waistband of your shorts, and crouched down. Thankfully, the intruders were too far to hear the slight groan of the floorboards under your bare feet. But they were too close for your liking.

In a strange stroke of fate, one of them moved recklessly, sprinting towards your front porch. You sprung into action, launching at them from the shadows.

You sliced a nice sized gash on the right leg. The pain caused an audible male groan, causing him to falter long enough to take advantage and place a knife to the man’s throat.

He stilled at the cold metal on his carotid.

“Y’all are either stupid, arrogant, or desperate to come here!” You called out. Your voice carried out into the darkness and the footsteps ceased. Your hostage didn’t dare struggle against you for fear of death, but how much his crew cared was unknown.

“Y/N, stand down.”

A red sphere of light formed, and none other than Steve Rogers stepped forward, bathed in its glow. You lowered the knife and your hostage bolted towards his companions.

Your focus never left Steve as you surveyed his group. The light came from the girl beside him, while none other than Bucky Barnes was on his other one.

“I have spare beds and medical supplies for your friends down in the bunker. Second door on the right.” You stated.

One by one you let Steve’s team pass you, with varying looks of venom and curiosity. When it came time to let the man himself inside, he spoke.

“Y/N, I know this—”

You cut him off with a hand in his chest.

“Not tonight, Rogers.”

You turned on your heel and left the large man standing in the doorway.

...

Strangely enough, you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

You woke up just before dawn and began cooking for your guests. If they were worth anything battle wise, Steve’s team would be up soon. You started on breakfast. Grits, sausage, the works. You imagined it had been some time since they had a proper meal. You felt eyes on your back, and chose to ignore them.

“We had nowhere else to go.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you stiffened and stirred the grits harder. Although your back was to him, you heard the floor groan under his weight. He couldn’t have been much more than a few feet away.

“You gonna look at me?” Steve asked you. His tone was low and deep.

You clicked your tongue and turned the burner down. You still had on your short shorts, tank top, and no bra from the night before. Your headscarf was wrapped around your head, a weapon just in reaching distance. You came around slowly, schooling your features into a blank expression.

“Thank you, for letting us stay.” He said.

When you finally took him in, Steve was as captivating as he was when you saw him the first time. His hair was a shaggy mess on top of his head, though. And he’d grown a beard. His eyes however, were full of the same dutiful gaze you remembered.

“You came here for sanctuary, I’m giving it.”

Don’t ask me for more.

Steve frowned and put his hand on his hips.

“Y/N. What do you want me to say?” He pleaded. You ran your tongue across your front teeth. Before you could respond, the girl from the night before emerged from the bunker.

“I’m Wanda, thank you for your hospitality.” She said. You softened at her somewhat haggard appearance. Her clothes were ripped in places, and her hair wasn’t combed out. You’d come across her file before, but only in passing.

“I just washed some towels and I’ve got fresh clothes in my closet for you, if you want ‘em.” You knew what it was like to be a woman on the run, surrounded by nothing but men. Wanda lit up at your offer and thanked you, slipping into a language you didn’t speak. You nodded and she left.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, you stalked over to Steve, whose eyes had never left you.

“Tell your friends breakfast is ready.” You ordered. Steve nodded.

His hand came up to your cheek, and you could feel the rough calluses against your skin. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and melt. To keep Steve Rogers to yourself and stay in your hideaway.

He was a soldier—dutifully watching over those who couldn’t defend themselves. You were entirely different. You had been fucked over by enough people, enough times to know better. Why Steve didn’t, you had no clue.

You stepped back and folded your arms together.

“We get to work on game plans after breakfast. I’ll cash in some favors and see how far that’ll get y’all.” You told him.

The rest of Steve’s team was beginning to file into the kitchen. Steve held your hand, and the sudden warmth in front of everyone caught you off guard. Instinctively, you bristled at the contact.

You pointed Sam to a plate you made him, as a sort of apology for your misunderstanding. He gave a half smile and nodded in thanks.

“Listen up. Y’all got a week to get the hell out my house and plan your next moves. Meet me downstairs when y’all are done.” You announced. Without sparing Steve a glance, you promptly exited.

...

“Your best bet is a big city. I can get you passage from here to Cape Town, but after that you’re on your own.” You explained.

A chorus of tentative approval came from Steve’s group, but he hadn’t said anything yet. His eyes were glued to the different screens and maps.

“What if we went the back way. Get in by land and make our way to the coast.” He offered. You squinted, following his logic and trying to find truth in it.

“Waterways are crawling with authorities, legal or not. Y’all want that heat without a solid exit?” You pondered out loud. Steve was staring at you in complete earnest and everybody knew it.

“Plenty of blinds spots if we get enough distractions in the meantime.” He countered.

“I’m not keeping you safe here just for you to take bigger risks.” You said firmly.

The two of you were battle hardened strategists with too much history and a lot of unfinished business. Sam groaned from the other side of the bunker, cutting through your standoff.

“I, uh, need help in the kitchen. Y’all come help.” He called out. One by one, Steve’s team excused themselves with varying levels of awkwardness. Then it was just you and Steve in the bunker.

“I think that was intentional.” You joked. Steve placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

“Probably because you haven’t looked me in the eyes since we got here.” He replied.

“I’m not the one trying to get myself killed, Steve. You are. So don’t blame me for not wanting to look at the dead man walking.”

Your words hung in the air and a long silence followed.

“Come with me.” He said at last.

You scoffed, knowing full well you were retired. You had absolutely no desire to get back out in the field out of sheer self preservation. Steve talked a big game about love and a future, but he was in no shape or form willing to hang up the shield for it.

The two of you were at an impasse. Then Steve did the unexpected: he punched the wall.

It was a relatively controlled impact, but your house wasn’t built to sustain a super soldier’s outburst. An outburst that was a rarity in itself. Steve chest heaved less from effort and more from frustration. His jaw kept clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep it together. Dust from the wall coated his fist, and a solid chunk of cement dropped to the floor.

“I can feel something coming. I don’t––I don’t know what it is yet, but I feel it.” He said at last.

You made no move to approach the blonde, just waiting for him to finish processing the wave of emotions on his face. That was what you liked most about Steve. He never hid when he was angry or sad or lonely; his openness was a welcome change for you.

And this time it was more serious than it had ever been. You swallowed hard and made a beeline for the console. Punching in the code, a small chamber on the far side of the wall appeared, revealing the one thing you never thought you’d ever need again.

“Nat got one suit, I got another,” you started, meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time. A haunting uncertainty stared back at you.

You clasped your hand in Steve’s, gripping tight enough to turn the tips of your fingers white.

“I trust you, Rogers.” You admitted. You looked straight ahead at the suit, but you weren’t really there. You imagined the action you would see in it, and how devastating this phantom battle would be. A growing pit in your stomach nagged at you, Steve’s foreboding presence had fully transferred to you.

Something wet hit your cheeks. Tears to brace yourself, tears to mourn the peace you had here, and warmth. Steve wiped them away as they came, cradling your face with his free hand.

You craved the closeness––it was a string of touch and breath and skin the both of you lost in isolation, but found in each other. A new day was coming and you needed to be by his side when it did.

“I like the beard look.” You whispered. Steve snorted, but promised to keep it just for you. And the calm you felt with him was enough and would always be enough.

[bailey-whalieee]

Things Are Different Now

(So sorry this took so long, I had major writers block and graduation and goodness life got in the way, it’s been a mess, but I am back!! Look out for regular updates!)

THREE

✮

A week had passed and still the DA and the investigation officer had absolutely nothing on the shooting or why it happened. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky decided to pull Maggie from school for a few weeks to help her process what happened and her anxieties.

Maggie’s nightmares from the night of the party progressed into night terrors and her dad’s would awake to her screams and pleas. It was another reason why Steve and Bucky made the executive order to pull her out of school.

Steve and Bucky laid awake at 3:45 am, awaiting the heart wrenching screams that would soon emit from just down the hall. “Buck, you still awake?”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from his lips, “of course I am, punk.”

His hand intertwined with Bucky’s metal one, seeking comfort from the man. The nightly routine completely broke the men and it made them relive the first months after adopting their sweet girl.

Like clockwork, her screams echoed down the hallway and the two men rushed out of bed. Bucky and Steve felt as though there was something missing. It didn’t make any sense to them why her nightmares were so vivid and petrifying.

Her bed covers were tossed on the floor and Maggie thrashed violently on her mattress, pillowcase stained with tears.

“Maggie, sweetheart, hey, wake up. You’re okay, shh..”

The whimpers didn’t seem to want to stop and neither did the panicked breathing. Her own hands fought theirs as Steve and Bucky tried to wake her, fragments of sentences fell from her lips.

With a choking gasp, Maggie flinching away from the figures before realizing it was only her father’s.

“Hey, hey, doll.. Just breathe,” Bucky reassured, seeing the terrified glint in her eyes.

She locked eyes with Steve and immediately her bottom lip trembled and tears spilled down the red flushed cheeks. “Maggs, darling, what is going on? Honey, you haven’t had nightmares this bad since you were young. Are we missing something? You gotta start talking to us about this,” he coaxed, sitting on the messy bed.

“I-i…”

She drew a blank.. Not only did she have to make up another lie about the nightmares, but now she was just lying. “I don’t know.. Just scared okay?” she shrugged, her doe eyes irritated and puffy.

Bucky wanted to call her bluff.. He knew his daughter especially when she was hiding something, but it was four in the morning and the tiredness showed in her eyes. Maybe she needed to be pulled from school indefinitely, he thought..

“Okay honey.. Just get some sleep,” Steve sighed, smoothing down the mess of blonde curls.

As the two men turned to leave, Maggie whispered, “dad, papa, I’m sorry..”

Puzzled, they both turned around confused with the girl.

“For what maggs?”

“For being like this.. I know you guys are tired, and that you guys never asked for this,” she softly murmured out.

Steve and Bucky paused, before they sat back down on her bed. “Maggie, sweetheart, you are our daughter. Nothing is ever going to stop that from being true. We are here till the end of the line even if it means being here at four in the morning reminding you that whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours isn’t true,” Steve spoke gently, wiping the fallen tears off her face.

“Plus, your father had to deal with me when we were younger. This ain't nothing, doll,” Bucky chuckled, kissing the top of forehead.

“Get some sleep kiddo, we are going to go do something special today,” Steve winked, ruffling her hair once more.

Confused, she bid her goodnights and tried to lay back down, but the nightmare had reminded her of all the things she never used to be scared of.

✮

The morning came rather quickly and so did the smell of a familiar scent of something Maggie remembered from her childhood.

Bacon & chocolate chip pancakes.

The soft sound of 1920’s music played from the record player in the living room and her two father’s chuckling softly as they flipped pancakes and bacon. Stretching, Maggie made her appearance in the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” she yawned, finding her seat on the island.

Huffing, Bucky pointed the wooden spatula at his daughter accusingly, “can two loving father’s make their daughter her favorite breakfast without there being a catch?”

Rolling her eyes, she snickered, “oh may we not forget the time you made this breakfast when my fish died, or the time you guys made it when I failed the spelling bee. Or the time I broke my arm and you guys were trying to cheer me up.”

“Buck, she’s got a point..”

“Okay fine, we are going to take you to the botanical garden,” he smirked.

Maggie’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “wait seriously??”

“Yes Maggs, go do your thing and breakfast will be ready by the time you're done,” Steve chuckled, watching his daughter race back upstairs with a squeal.

Shaking their heads, Buck had one thought, “Stevie, I think we won’t have to worry about our daughter having children.. I think we are going to have to worry about her being a plant mom for the rest of her life.”

“I’m just glad she’s not interested in boys,” Steve laughed, “one less ass I have to kick.”

“Agreed, Stevie, agreed.”

Meanwhile, Maggie had decided on her outfit, settling on her all time favorite pants and a butterfly shirt she got for christmas one year. Steve often said her pants reminded him of a hippie and she would roll her eyes.

Practically, running back down stairs she skidded through the threshold of the kitchen excitement beaming from her body. Bucky and Steve’s face both held grins as they took in her outfit.

The yellow socks peaked through her cuffed jeans, a vivid reminder of sunshine and sunny days. They hadn’t seen her smile like this in weeks and to be honest, they never wanted to see it go away.

After breakfast, and lots of hippie jokes from Steve and Bucky, they finally decided to pile into the large Ford Expedition. In all honesty, Maggie had forgotten about the horrors that had happened over the past couple weeks and the weight of it all disappeared for just a moment.

“So, does this mean I get to buy plants while we are here father’s?” she asked wiggling her eyebrow as they all stepped out of the vehicle.

Taking a long sarcastic breath, Bucky sighed, “I suppose so, doll.. If you really need them.”

“Rookie mistake, Buck.. Now she is going to say she needs them all,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head at the man.

Maggie ignored their bickering and awe took over her features as she walked around the planted sanctuary.

Bucky and Steve smiled watching their normally tense daughter return back to her calm self. “Maggs look at this long leafy thing,” Buck pointed, inspecting the plant.

Turning on her heels, she examined what seemed to be a spider plant and spilled the useless information about plants and she gushed about the types of spider plants and how they are useful.

A cold feeling washed over her body when she caught out of the corner of her eye, the same military style boots from that night. Stopping mid sentence, Maggie froze. All of the air expelled from her lungs and both of the super-soldiers noticed the shift in the air.

“Maggie?”

No.

No.

Not again.  

“I’ll be right back,” Maggie breathed, not wasting a second before practically running to the bathroom. She could hear Steve and Bucky calling out her name, but she ignored them, only allowing her feet to carry her faster.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other with confusion, how odd?

Her breaths came out rushed and rugged as she entered the bathroom, not knowing exactly if he was actually there or if she had just imagined the combat boots.

She had to calm down. It may not even be him? Maggie couldn’t help, but think about all the what if’s that could happen. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket alarming the already shaken up women.

Unknown

you ought to be more careful. you never know who is lurking about.

1:26 pm

A chill ran up her spine as she sat in the bathroom stall, tears begging to be set free. She couldn’t just sit in the bathroom stall, knowing full well that Steve and Bucky would burst through the door not giving two shits about it being a women’s bathroom if she tried.

Gathering herself back together, she wiped the smeared mascara off her cheeks and took a deep breath.

Gods, why couldn’t this just be over?

‘Should I confess? Maybe I should tell them..’ she thought to herself exiting the bathroom searching for two pairs of familiar blue eyes.

Finally she spotted her two fathers, leaned up against a metal pole admiring the pond with bountiful amounts of fish. Making a beeline for them, she wrapped her arms around Bucky taking in his cologne.

He shot a glance at Steve, raising an eyebrow but nonetheless returning the hug back to his daughter. “Maggs? You okay, darlin’?” he asked, concerned with the surprise hug.

Sighing, she gave him a small smile, “just needed a hug.”

She turned to her other father wrapping her arms around him, and Steve chuckled shaking his head at her antics.

“Papa's, can we just go home and watch a movie or something, there’s a lot of people here?” she asked, knowing that it wasn’t the people it was just one person who might be lurking closer than she wanted.

Steve’s face scrunched up at her announcement, “I think you have been spending too much time with your father.”

“Hey now punk,” Bucky jokingly warned, “c’mon Maggs we will leave pop’s to his own devices since he doesn’t want to hang with us.”

Letting out a laugh, she shook her head at their jests at one another pulling on Bucky’s gloved hand as a sign it was time to go.

Staying high alert, she almost searched for the boots hoping that maybe she would have the courage to go after him. Deep down she wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for her on the other side of those damn combat boots and she knew it.

M&M

maggie, we need to talk asap.

1:41 pm

Furrowing her eyebrow, Maggie’s stomach almost dropped just by looking at the text. It felt like she couldn’t escape that feeling anymore.

Maggs

meet me at my house in ten.

1:43 pm

Clicking out of iMessage, she sighed trying not to allow her anxious thoughts to take over. Gods, she prayed that it was anything, but the shooting or related to the shooting. Maggie had bit off more than she could chew of this damn accident.

“Maggs, you okay? Look a lil’ bummed out, doll?” Bucky looked up into the rearview mirror the vehicle.

She smiled tightly, “yeah, Em is coming over. It’s an emergency.”

Steve turned around from the passenger seat looking concerned, “everything okay?”

Nodding, she shrunk more into the leather seat hoping to just disappear before shortly saying, “boy problems.”

Bucky and Steve almost choked on the air they were breathing. “W-what? Boy problems? Doll, you're not talking to boys yet, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong.. Papa and I won’t stop you, but they really do suck and…”

At this point, Maggie zoned out not even listening to anything Bucky panickingly stuttered out. Emma’s text burnt itself in the back of her mind and the thoughts were relentless.

‘Gods please let this be a boy problem… please.’

✮

When they arrived back, Emma’s car parked itself by their mailbox and she practically darted out of the car and into the house. Maggie knew exactly where she would find Emma.. Either curled up on her bed under the mounds of pillows or on her carpeted floor.

Pushing the bedroom door open, Maggie found Emma holding several envelopes and swollen red eyes.

Emma’s eyes were sunken in like she hadn’t slept very much and her face flushed a deep red. “Em..?”

She shoved the envelopes into Maggie’s hands, before a new wave of tears overtook the girl. Not knowing what to do, she opened the already torn envelopes wordlessly. Countless photos of her best friend, laid in her hands with several letters all written with the same message in fancy red ink.

‘This isn’t over Emma Anderson, this is only the beginning. - black wolf’

“Em, who is this?” Maggie uttered, speechless.

She looked at Maggie absolutely floored by her question, “are you fucking kidding me, Maggie? Do I know who this is? No, Maggie. I don’t fucking know who the hell it is. I’m going to guess it was that little prick who almost killed us, and thanks to you, I can’t tell anyone.”

“Emma, I didn’t know-”

“You know what Maggie Rogers-Barnes, how about you take care of this? Since you wanna be like your daddies and save the fucking world, fix it. You’re going to end up just like those kids. Dead. Fuck you for getting me into this mess and not letting the cops do their jobs.”

Every word hit Maggie like a slap in the face and her jaw went slack.

“You know what Maggie, just forget it. You’ll never be that hero you told me about, cause you’re too much of a damn coward to tell anyone about what happened at that damn party. Don’t text me again. Fuck you, fuck this friendship,” and with that, Emma walked out of her bedroom and back to her car.

Breathing harshly, she allowed the tears to freely fall down her face. This could not be happening. No, the one thing she wanted to keep until she died just walked out of her life.

Hearing the loud footsteps rushing up the stairs, Maggie hid the envelopes under her laptop trying to cover up her tears.

“Hey babydoll, everything okay? We heard some yelling and then Emma just left,” Steve furrowed his eyebrow noticing the wetness of her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, “yeah, just a little fight over something stupid. Can I ask you guys an irrelevant question?”

“Of course doll.”

“Shoot, honey.”

“You guys always told me that I should stand up for what I believe in and that I should fight for something even if it is hard, right? Because, I am so scared that people will be mad if I do,” she ended, feeling tears prick in the back of her eyes.

“Maggs, one of the hardest fights will always be following everyone else or you can take the hard path that won’t be easy and do what it is right,” Bucky spoke, watching his conflicted daughter.

“When I didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords, it was the hardest thing I had done, but Maggie I stood up for what I believed in and I did it. I fought a lot of pissed off people and faced criminal offenses, but it was so worth it. Don’t let anybody tell you what is right or wrong. Figure that out on your own,” Steve concluded with a soft smile, “besides, I got your dad through the deal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving him lightly.

Smiling gently, she mumbled a small, “thanks dad’s.”

And with that, Maggie formulated a plan in her mind.

She would fix this no matter what it took even if it meant her own life. She screwed it up. It didn’t matter if it took hell freezing over to make amends, Maggie made the decision that night that it was time to fix it.

✮

[acourtofsnakes]

Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, swearing, angst? Hints of fluff?

AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it? 👀

Also, thank you to @ithinkwehitametaphor​ for sending me the gif! i couldn’t for the life of me find it and you honestly saved my life 

Wordcount: About 3465

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar​  @weirdowithnobeardo​

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ​

Mando’a Translation: Tor – justice 

He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone. 

Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself. 

He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.

Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours. 

He almost laughed at himself. 

The Creed was all he had. 

Until…. Until the kid had come along. 

Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed. 

He couldn’t kill it, him, couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones. 

One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window. 

Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable. 

Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety. 

Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?

You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that. 

So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it. 

In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services. 

And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family. 

A Clan.

The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues. 

That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship. 

So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.

So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her. 

A survivor’s look. 

Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore. 

And himself… Maker, he was just so tired. 

So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan. 

Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park. 

He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you. 

He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him. 

Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him. 

But… this felt.. different. 

You were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him, laughing as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.

You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took. 

He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you. 

But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.

No, you had completely, utterly given up.  He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs. 

And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like. 

He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there. 

Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained. 

He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle. 

It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine. He nodded, turning around and making all of one step. 

But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. It might be infected. What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?

Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole. He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away. 

Help her. 

The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve. 

It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere. 

A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all. 

Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs. 

A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for. 

He was hunter. You were prey. 

That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit. 

Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while. 

It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone. 

Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?

His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped. 

But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship. 

Maker, he had to get rid of you soon. 

It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning. 

Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours. 

With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two. 

That’s the way it was meant to happen. 

Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up. 

And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it. 

But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more. 

And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name. 

And then…

Your name. That’s what he said. 

And that’s when it went wrong. 

Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence. 

His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts. 

Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body. 

No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. What the fuck was he?

Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-

And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower. 

He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep. 

He left himself open to attack. 

That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight.  

Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you. 

You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu. 

And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you. 

Beautiful. 

There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant. 

He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head. 

He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you. 

But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you. 

And that was his second fuck up of the night. 

What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you. 

Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him. 

He couldn’t save you. 

He was going to watch you die defending him. 

Just like his parents. 

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips. 

All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest. 

Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh. 

An opening, that’s all he had to do. 

And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back. 

You took your opening. 

He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck. 

The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars. 

Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to. 

This was it then. 

The way he would go. 

Nothing noble, or heroic. 

Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough. 

At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that. 

And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek. 

No. No. 

What were you doing?? 

You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run. 

He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant. 

Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?

Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun. 

He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle. 

Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him. 

Gazing right into his eyes. 

How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go. 

Go.

Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something. 

So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish. 

He put his life in your hands. 

If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children. 

Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into. 

Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them. 

But, if you let him live…

Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes. 

He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not  

But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara. 

Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself. 

They were the options. 

A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes. 

These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you. 

Only it was too late. 

Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could. 

His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb. 

Previous chapter| Next Chapter

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

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