#He was an older dog and one of the first ones to die when they stopped feeding them. It was really sad. I'd totally write a oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 1 month ago

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“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind.

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later.

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words.

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?”

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out.

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture.

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them.

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable.

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position.

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes.

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath��just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know.

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell. It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more. He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration.

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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joelsgu4tar · 7 months ago

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JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

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scientia-rex · 8 months ago

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One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

#death cw

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shadesoflsk · 8 months ago

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THE OLD WAY

pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader

summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.

warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.

word count: 4k

author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)

MY MASTERLIST

City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.

That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.

With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.

Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day.

But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.

Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance.

So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day.

“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came.

You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever.

He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception.

He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him.

However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.

And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was.

For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.

Oh.

Oh…

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch.

He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.

However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you?

On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind.

He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.

He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was.

Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.

“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.

“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?”

“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”

He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it.

“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty.

The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.

“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”

Leon didn’t think he would get this far.

“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.

“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!”

Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s.

“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.

“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.

Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.

Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water.

“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants.

“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks.

And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.

When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have.

“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body.

“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love.

For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body.

A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.

For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.

He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.

Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.

Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.

“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”

And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.

“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.

“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for.

“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you.

Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.

And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already.

As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.

Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul.

He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper.

“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you.

A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.

Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.

At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release.

“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling.

At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment.

For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control.

You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection.

“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy.

“You can…” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”

He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck.

“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.

In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air.

“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you.

“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.

He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly.

“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra.

And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy.

“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”

And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.

“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.

“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”

Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.

“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you.

“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.”

Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb.

It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body.

He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to.

“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest. “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.”

He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you.

His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.

“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”

Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.

And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.

“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.

The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste.

You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs.

After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach.

Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.

“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.

With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles.

“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright.

“More than okay.”

He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.

“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.

💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil

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changetyre · 4 months ago

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Gasps all around II Lando Norris Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Lando gets surprised with puppies and wishes nothing more than to share the moment with you.

WARNING: None, puppy fever?

A/N: Inspired by the recent content of Lando getting surprised by puppies and literally how I would react to seeing them.

"You sure you'll be okay here?" Lando asked you for the hundredth time as he had to run off to film something at the MTC. You had planned to go out for lunch afterward which is why you had accompanied him opting to stay in the waiting area so you wouldn't distract him.

"I'll be fine Lan, go-" You couldn't help but blush at his attentiveness always worried for your comfort.

"Okay, just come and knock if you need anything." Lando insisted.

"Lando we have to start." his pr manager peaked her head around the end of the hallway calling him with more urgency now.

"I love you, go." You nudged him forward.

"I love you more, okay I'll see you soon my love." Lando rushed away making you giggle.

Lando was confused as to what he was here for, they hadn't given him much detail only telling him they were going to surprise him with some fans once he had sat down in front of the cameras. He heard some squeaking from the hallway after he'd given the introduction to the video.

A small gasp escaped Lando's lips "What is this?" he eyed around suspiciously. "Is there a dog?" He asked a smile immediately tugging at his lips.

This time a large gasp escaped Lando's lips as a woman rounded the corner holding 3 tiny puppies in her arms. "What are you doing to me?!" Lando asked excitedly.

"oh my god." Lando waited anxiously as the woman settled beside him ready to hand over a puppy. Another gasp escaped Lando as he was handed the first puppy which he gently and carefully clutched to his chest. "Guys my fiancé would die if she was here." The team was not at all surprised at the fact that Lando mentioned his girlfriend not even a minute into the video.

Lando whined, pouting in cuteness at the small puppy in his hands just wishing he could share this moment with you knowing you were the biggest animal lover in the world, and dogs were simply your weakness.

"Do you want us to get her?" The team asked behind the cameras.

"Oh my god can you please, she would love this," Lando replied eagerly.

"I'll go get her." His pr manager said as he walked out the door to fetch you.

"What d'you think her reaction is going to be?" Someone asked behind the camera.

Lando laughed thinking about it. "She'll probably go *gasp* Lan! And just give me the most desperate look cause she'll want to hold them."

You sat on the couch in a waiting room reading when you saw Lando's P.R manager round the corner. "Hey y/n Lando's asking for you." She said casually.

You furrowed your brows confused. "Is everything okay?" You got worried for a second as you got up immediately following her.

"Yeah he's fine he just said he had to talk to you-" She hid her smirk as she led you towards their filming room.

As soon as you crossed the door your eyes landed on Lando sat on the floor with three tiny puppies on his lap. You gasped immediately. "Lan!" You looked at him desperately pleading with your eyes for him to let you near them.

The room around you erupted in laughter making you confused but you didn't have enough time to worry about what they were laughing at as a dog you hadn't noticed approached you from the side.

It was a black dog, definitely older but just as cute wagging his tail and asking for your attention. "Oh my god." You crouched down dropping everything in your hands ready to pet him. You failed to notice one of the cameras panning over to you, Lando watching you lovingly.

"You are just the cutest thing in the world aren't you?" You spoke softly to the dog as it licked your face wagging its tail excitedly.

"Come here baby," Lando called to you gesturing to the space beside him.

You looked at him but suddenly shied away noticing the cameras and eyes on you. "Oh I probably shouldn't-" You laughed nervously.

"Nonsense please go join him." The producer encouraged you.

You accepted but still nervously made your way over to Lando, he took your hand as you crouched down to sit next to him, Lando making sure to pull you as close to him as physically possible without you sitting on top of him.

"They're all up for adoption baby." Lando revealed.

"Oh my god." You pouted, your eyes watering at simply the thought, overcome with emotions. "I'm gonna cry Lan." You hid behind his arm.

Lando giggled at your lack of emotional control when it came to dogs. "Look at this one my love," Lando whispered back to you.

For a few minutes, it was as if it was Lando and you, the rest of the crew disappearing for a bit which they were careful to capture. Lando looked down at one of the small puppies, with brown spots, his face brown except for his little snout, the puppy nibbled on Lando's necklace.

"Lan I'm seriously going to cry I want to take them all home." A few tears actually escaped your eyes as you imagined the puppies having to leave once their time here was over.

"Aww darling-" Lando used his free hand to bring you closer to him planting a kiss on your temple.

You continued playing with the puppies and the bigger dog, your emotions going from pure joy to sadness at the thought of the dogs going back to a shelter. Although Lando carefully watched you, you also kept an eye on him and the brown puppy he had shown you, you could tell Lando had grown attached.

"This one is full chillin'-" Lando spoke to the camera as the brown puppy tucked into his arm. "he's like I'm home." Your heart skipped a beat at the insinuation.

Lando handed you the other 2 puppies as he stayed with the brown one. You watched him, watched as the puppy cuddled up to him, laying down on his legs before hiding his face in his arms, your heart swooning at the sight. "Yeah you're home, I know," Lando said and you knew in his heart he'd probably decided something.

After a few minutes all the dogs were starting to be put away but Lando held onto the brown puppy, staring at him lovingly. "Lan?" You called to him as the woman was ready to finally take him away.

"Oh-" Lando noticed the cameras had stopped rolling at this point. He turned to look at you, an unspoken question in his eyes.

You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed. "I think we're keeping him." Lando smiled, turning to the woman.

The woman smiled, glad Lando had taken the decision. "We're his home now." Lando smiled excitedly at you, and you nodded in agreement, this was a dream come true and another big step in your new life with him.

#f1 x reader #f1 #changetyre #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #f1fluff #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris x you

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anticapitalistclown · 12 days ago

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clownie how are you? I wanted to request lookism boys reacting to the trend "chat can you watch my boyfriend?" its ok if you don't want to

Chat, Can you watch my boyfriend?

Gun, Jaegyeon, Vasco

Gun

Gun was focused on making dinner for the night when he heard your fast steps "Chat, can you watch my boyfriend for me? I'll be right back" before he could process anything your mobile was on the kitchen counter, and you already disappeared.

Gun raised an eyebrow and read the chat "is he really y/n's bf?" he read the question "yes, yes I am" he turned to keep cooking when a notification popped "gangnamoppa2: what is y/n doing with a loser" Gun chuckled while slicing the sashimi with his knife "the girl you're spending money on, sleeps with me every night" he shaped the rice to prepare the niguiri "who's the loser here?".

When you reappeared you found Gun giving a sushi masterclass while the chat was going crazy, you started to read the comments:

gangnamoppa2: this boy would do no good to my y/n, you should drop him

zoey: chat, let the man cook

yumin: who was that Daniel guy he was talking about?

ninjagoo: break up with him on live lol

baek: chat, don't be mean!

You tilted your head to your boyfriend "oppa, you started a war" Gun smiled triumphant "leave those losers and come eat with me".

Jaegyeon

Jaegyeon was installing a new steering wheel to Initial N, when you jumped on the passenger seat and left the phone on the dashboard "chat, watch my boyfriend for me, I'll be back real quick" you winked at the camera and left.

Jaegyeon absolutely couldn't care less about the chat, his first priority was Initial N and the new steering wheel "that's it, my dear Initial N, you've got a new toy" he said proud.

serasin: bro is cute but talks to his car

Jaegyeon read the comment "serasin, Initial N is like part of the family" the chat wouldn't get it.

monkseob: Initial N or y/n?

Jaegyeon was frozen "do I have to choose?" he sighed "okay chat, stop" his hand grabbed the steering wheel "y/n is very dear to me, but Initial N and I have a longer relationship"

2secondqueen: creep

snapper: tf is wrong with him?

"shut up" Jaegyeon looked at Inital N "Initial N has brought me places and I protected Initial N from the kings" Jaegyeon pouted "damn, it's been Initial N and me against the world, huh? I'm getting emotional" he saw you rushing back to him with a smile "I'll choose y/n".

Vasco

You pinched your boyfriend's cheeks and placed your phone on his table "chat, watch my boyfriend for me" you left the room, leaving him confused "y/n?" he called you, but there was no response "she maybe needs to go to the restroom" he looked confused at the chat "hello".

mimi: bro's scary af

baek: mf looks 30

clownie: he's kinda cute tho~

Vasco stared at the comments and pouted "I don't understand what you're saying" he looked at the door, how much are you going to take? "I guess my y/n has a lot of foreign fans" Vasco sighed "well, I'm Vasco, I like dogs and I want to get married in a future and have three daughters, and a kangaroo too" he looked dreamy "and when I'm older and about to die me and the kangaroo-" his speech was interrupted by you "I'm back" you smiled at him "where you constipated?" he asked you "no!" you giggled.

boxking: respect bro

dong: he's the one

yuna: wait! I want to know how the kangaroo story ends!

#lookism #lookism x reader #park jong gun #jong gun #park gun #gun park #jaegyeon na #vasco #vasco lookism #lee euntae #jonggun #park jonggun

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visenyaism · 3 months ago

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HOTD blog post GRRM posted and almost immediately deleted under the cut for archival purposes

Beware the Butterflies

SEPTEMBER 4, 2024

Profile Pic

Back in July, I promised you some further thoughts about Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing… after my commentary on the first two episodes of HotD season 2, “A Son for a Son” and “Rhaenyra the Cruel.”

Those were terrific episodes: well written, well directed, powerfully acted. A great way to kick off the new season. Fans and critics alike seemed to agree. There was only one aspect of the episodes that drew significant criticism: the handling of Blood and Cheese, and the death of Prince Jaehaerys. From the commentary I saw on line, opinion was split there. The readers of FIRE & BLOOD found the sequence underwhelming, a disappointment, watered down from what they were expecting. Viewers who had not read the book had no such problems. Most of them found the sequence a real gut-punch, tragic, horrifying, nightmarish, etc. Some reported being reduced to tears.

I found myself agreeing with both sides.

In my book, Aegon and Helaena have three children, not two. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are six years old. They have a younger brother, Maelor, who is two. When Blood and Cheese break in on Helaena and the kids, they tell her they are debt collectors come to exact revenge for the death of Prince Lucerys: a son for a son. As Helaena has two sons, however, they demand that she choose which one should die. She resists and offers her own life instead, but the killers insist it has to be a son. If she does not name one, they will kill all three of the children. To save the life of the twins, Helaena names Maelor. But Blood kills the older boy, Jaehaerys, instead, while Cheese tells little Maelor that his mother wanted him dead. (Whether the boy is old enough to understand that is not at all certain).

That’s not how it happens on the show. There is no Maelor in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, only the twins (both of whom look younger than six, but I am no sure judge of children’s ages, so I can’t be sure how old they are supposed to be). Blood can’t seem to tell the twins apart, so Helaena is asked to reveal which one is the boy. (You would think a glance up his PJs would reveal that, without involving the mother). Instead of offering her own life to save the kids, Helaena offers them a necklace. Blood and Cheese are not tempted. Blood saws Prince Jaehaerys’s head off. We are spared the sight of that; a sound effect suffices. (In the book, he lops the head off with a sword).

It is a bloody, brutal scene, no doubt. How not? An innocent child is being butchered in front of his mother.

I still believe the scene in the book is stronger. The readers have the right of that. The two killers are crueler in the book. I thought the actors who played the killers on the show were excellent… but the characters are crueler, harder, and more frightening in FIRE & BLOOD. In the show, Blood is a gold cloak. In the book, he is a former gold cloak, stripped of his office for beating a woman to death. Book Blood is the sort of man who might think making a woman choose which of her sons should die is amusing, especially when they double down on the wanton cruelty by murdering the boy she tries to save. Book Cheese is worse too; he does not kick a dog, true, but he does not have a dog, and he’s the one who tells Maelor that his mom wants him head. I would also suggest that Helaena shows more courage, more strength in the book, by offering her own own life to save her son. Offering a piece of jewelry is just not the same.

As I saw it, the “Sophie’s Choice” aspect was the strongest part of the sequence, the darkest, the most visceral. I hated to lose that. And judging from the comments on line, most of the fans seemed to agree.

When Ryan Condal first told me what he meant to do, ages ago (back in 2022, might be) I argued against it, for all these reasons. I did not argue long, or with much heat, however. The change weakened the sequence, I felt, but only a bit. And Ryan had what seemed to be practical reasons for it; they did not want to deal with casting another child, especially a two-year old toddler. Kids that young will inevitably slow down production, and there would be budget implications. Budget was already an issue on HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, it made sense to save money wherever we could. Moreover, Ryan assured me that we were not losing Prince Maelor, simply postponing him. Queen Helaena could still give birth to him in season three, presumably after getting with child late in season two. That made sense to me, so I withdrew my objections and acquiesced to the change.

I still love the episode, and the Blood and Cheese sequence overall. Losing the “Helaena’s Choice” beat did weaken the scene, but not to any great degree. Only the book readers would even notice its absence; viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD would still find the scenes heart-rending. Maelor did not actually DO anything in the scene, after all. How could he? He was only two years old.

There is another aspect to the removal of the young princeling, however.

Those of you who hate spoilers should STOP READING HERE. Spoilers will follow, at least for the readers among you. If you have never read FIRE & BLOOD, maybe it does not matter, because all I am going to “spoil” here are things that happen in the book that may NEVER happen on the series. Starting with Maelor himself.

Sometime between the initial decision to remove Maelor, a big change was made. The prince’s birth was no longer just going to be pushed back to season 3. He was never going to be born at all. The younger son of Aegon and Helaena would never appear.

Most of you know about the Butterfly Effect, I assume.

Yes, there was a movie with that title a few years back. It’s a familiar concept in chaos theory as well. But most science fiction fans were first exposed to the idea in Ray Bradbury’s classic time travel story, “A Sound of Thunder,” wherein a time traveler from the present panics and crushes a butterfly while hunting a T-Rex. When he returns to his own time, he discovers that the world has changed in huge and frightening ways. One dead butterfly has rewritten history. The lesson being that change begets change, and even small and seemingly insignificant alterations to a timeline — or a story — can have a profound effect on all that follows.

Maelor is a two year old toddler in FIRE & BLOOD, but like our butterfly he has an impact on the story all out of proportion to his size. The readers among you may recall that when it appears that Rhaenyra and her blacks are about to capture King’s Landing, Queen Alicent becomes concerned for the safety of Helaena’s remaining children, and takes steps to save them by smuggling them out of the city. The task is given is two knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Willis Fell is commanded to deliver Princess Jaehaera to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, while Maelor is given over to Ser Rickard Thorne to be escorted across the Mander to the protection of the Hightower army on its way to King’s Landing.

Willis Fell delivers Jaehaera safely to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, but Ser Rickard fares less well. He and Maelor get as far as Bitterbridge, where he is revealed as a Kingsuard in a tavern called the Hogs Head. Once discovered, Ser Rickard fights bravely to protect his young charge and bring him to safety, but he does not even make it across the bridge before some crossbows bring him down, Prince Maelor is torn from his arms.. and then, sadly, ripped to pieces by the mob fighting over the boy and the huge reward that Rhaenyra has offered for his capture and return.

Will any of that appear on the show? Maybe… but I don’t see how. The butterflies would seem to prohibit it. You could perhaps make Ser Rickard’s ward be Jaehaera instead of Maelor, but Jaehaera can’t be killed, she has a huge role to play as Aegon’s next heir. Could maybe make Maelor a newborn instead of a two year old, but that would scramble up the timeline, which is a bit of a mess already. I have no idea what Ryan has planned — if indeed he has planned anything — but given Maelor’s absence from episode 2, the simplest way to proceed would be just to drop him entirely, lose the bit where Alicent tries to send the kids to safety, drop Rickard Thorne or send him with Willis Fell so Jaehaera has two guards.

From what I know, that seems to be what Ryan is doing here. It’s simplest, yes, and may make sense in terms of budgets and shooting schedules. But simpler is not better. The Bitterbridge scene has tension, suspense, action, bloodshed, a bit of heroism and a lot of tragedy. Rickard Thorne is a tertiary character at best, most viewers (as opposed to readers) will never know he is gone, since they never knew him at all… but I rather liked giving him his brief moment of heroism, a taste of the courage and loyalty of the Kingsguard, regardless of whether they are black or green.

The butterflies are not done with us yet, however. In the book, when word of Prince Maelor’s death and the grisly manner of his passing (pp. 505) reaches the Red Keep, that proves to be the thing that drives Queen Helaena to suicide. She could barely stand to look at Maelor, knowing that she chose him to die in the “Sophie’s Choice” scene… and now he is dead in truth, her words having come true. The grief and guilt are too much for her to bear.

In Ryan’s outline for season 3, Helaena still kills herself… for no particular reason. There is no fresh horror, no triggering event to overwhelm the fragile young queen.

And the final butterfly follows soon thereafter.

Queen Helaena, a sweet and gentle soul, is much beloved by the smallfolk of King’s Landing. Rhaenyra was not, so when rumors began to arise that Helaena did not kill herself, but rather was murdered at Rhaenyra’s command, the commons are quick to believe them. “That night King’s Landing rose in bloody riot,” I wrote on p. 506 of FIRE & BLOOD. It is the beginning of the end for Rhaenyra’s rule over the city, ultimately leading to the Storming of the Dragonpit and the rise of the Shepherd’s mob that drives Rhaenyra to flee the city and return to Dragonstone… and her death.

Maelor by himself means little. He is a small child, does not have a line of dialogue, does nothing of consequence but die… but where and when and how, that does matter. Losing Maelor weakened the end of the Blood and Cheese sequence, but it also cost us the Bitterbridge scene with all its horror and heroism, it undercut the motivation for Helaena’s suicide, and that in turn sent thousands into the streets and alleys, screaming for justice for their “murdered” queen. None of that is essential, I suppose… but all of it does serve a purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner.

What will we offer the fans instead, once we’ve killed these butterflies? I have no idea. I do not recall that Ryan and I ever discussed this, back when he first told me they were pushing back on Aegon’s second son. Maelor himself is not essential… but if losing him means we also lose Bitterbridge, Helaena’s suicide, and the riots, well… that’s a considerable loss.

And there are larger and more toxic butterflies to come, if HOUSE OF THE DRAGON goes ahead with some of the changes being contemplated for seasons 3 and 4…

GRRM

#they got him.#asoiaf #hotd #can’t post abt maelor anymore. because of woke

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insomniactic-daydream · 2 months ago

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Beside You...

Pro Hero Bakugo ♡ Pro Hero Reader

Friends to Lovers

Summary: Bakugo always held victory close to his heart, but he held you closer.

From being kids in the playground, to freshly new homeowners talking about marriage, and til you both took your last breaths with a smile... you were the thing he held closest.

(This is Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga's fault for cooking up Die With A Smile. Had me in my feels.🫠)

TW: ANGST !! and some suggestive writing but no smut. Read at own risk.

Age 6

Bakugo knew from a young age who he's supposed to be. Even as kids change their future occupation to astronauts to doctors, he never had doubt. He was meant to be a hero. He was meant to protect you.

"Hey! Stop pulling my hair it's not funny!"

The young blonde hears your cries from a mile away as two of the older kids from the playground tug your hair and take your toy away.

"Or what? you're just a pathetic weakling who can't even fight back." The two kids laugh as they continue to torment you.

Suddenly, a big explosion was directed at the two bullies sending them flying. Bakugo had never had such perfect precision with his quirk before. It was his first perfect and biggest shots he's had since his quirk manifestation.

"Die you extras! If you even think about bullying her again, I'll blow you to bits!" He barked like a high squeaking chihuahua standing in front of your body that was thrown down from the blast. Safe to say you never saw those bullies again.

"Get up. Your dress is going to get dirty." Bakugo huffs, sounding angry but still holding his hand out with a blush.

Your eyes widen as you take his hand to get up, and you give him a big hug, causing him to be taken aback.

"You're my hero!"

Bakugo never went to the park without you after that. Not if both of your parents wanted to deal with constant crying/yelling from the two of you...

Age 14

After the U.A. exams, you and Bakugo sit in his room as you hold your head in your hands in defeat.

"Stop sulking. You don't even know if you got rejected yet." He says in his usual huff but still holds your hair back.

You mailed your results to his house so you could open it together.

"Easy for you to say. You had the highest points. I swear it took me forever to get one robot when I was too busy saving others from getting mauled by theirs." Y/n sighs as she reflects on the exams.

"I don't know Kats, I think I did better in the Shiketsu exam than I did U.A. I'll probably only be getting the acceptance there." You groan as you wipe some tears from your face.

"Shut up. You don't know shit yet." He said earning a scoff.

"I know I did dog shit at the exam, and that's enough. Sorry to say, but I don't think we'll be in the same class, or even the same school."

"I'll go to Shiketsu then."

You let out an audible laugh before looking at his face, dropping you smile instantly.

"Holy shit. You're serious?" You say before shaking your head. "No, you can't. Your dream is UA. Don't be switching shit up just because of me." You say before turning your body towards him.

"I don't care where I get my license at. I'm still going to be number one. No matter what. Beside can't be training if your ass is getting into trouble the whole other side of town",He said, rolling his eyes as he looked away from your widened gaze.

"Katsuki-," you say before getting cut off.

"Don't make a big deal out of it, princess." He quips, signaling to you that's the end of the discussion. He's going where you go.

Silence falls between the two of you until the sound of a car is heard right after. You both rush to get the letters and begin to open them. Revealing two holograms of All Might congratulating them on their acceptances to Class 1-A.

You grab him and jump up and down from excitement.

"See you idiot. You were overreacting." He says with his usual smirk. You roll your eyes. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic.

"Yeah, but still.." You say before kissing his cheek, causing him to freeze up. You smile at him.

"Thank you for wanting to cheer me up and wanting to stay by me."

His stares at your beautiful smile before looking away.

"Tch. Always, you big baby." He says before pulling you into his arms as you laugh.

Your romantic relationship didn't wait long after that moment.

Age 22

"Last fucking box." Bakugo grunts putting down the box down in the empty living room filled with the rest of the labeled boxes. While your slumped body lays on the couch, you just assembled.

Something about wanting to make the house feel more homey for the time being or procrastination for unpacking Bakugo calls it. Still, he takes the opportunity to lay next to you.

"Why didn't we just keep our apartment." You groan as you look at him. He glares at you.

"You were the one that suggested buying the house in full, princess." He said. They both earned quite a bit the last year and had money to spare.

"Besides, that place was getting too cramped for all our shit. You know this already." He says before grabbing your face as you pout.

"Ugh, but now we have to unpack all of this." You say as he smushes your cheeks. You wrap your arm around him.

You both lean in for a kiss, embracing the comfort of the couch. You both pull away and sit up, looking at all the boxes.

"Cmon, get your ass up and help me unpack." He says, trying to reach for a box before you blurt out.

"Let's get married today."

Just as he thinks you can never surprise him, you say shit like that.

He was planning on marrying you, like hell he would buy a house just for a girlfriend. You were his first and only, no doubt. But he didn't expect how this would play out.

"What?" He says in a shell-shocked tone.

"The court house doesn't close til 9. We still have time to make it over there. So what do you say." Going up to him with a sheepish smile.

"Fuck no." He says to you while you pause, smile dimming while thinking you misinterpreted his goals with you.

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, it was stupid ide - "You say before getting interrupted.

"Fuck that's not what I meant, Babe." He says before grabbing your pulling away figure.

"I wanna marry your ass, but I'm not doing it at a courthouse just because you're trying to avoid moving into our damn house." He says before peppering you with kisses. His grip on you tightening.

"I just needed to make sure that meant moving into a home meant what I thought it meant." You mumble between kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Of course it does, dumbass." He says, deepening the kiss as he walks and pulls you down to the couch. Falling into each other's embrace.

It's definitely a creative way of getting comfortable in the new home.

Age 45

"Fucking shit" Bakugo groans after the building collapsed on the two of you by the villian you both were trying to stop for months now.

"Katsuki." You weakly groan beneath him as the raging headache ensued from the collision of the building.

Bakugo look around them, sighing in relief as he realizes his wife is okay, and so is he. He tries to get but stops when he hears you yelp in pain.

"Stop, don't move, Katsuki!" You breathe tiredly. Only then does Bakugo look down and see the large metal bar piercing the two of you together. It's shocking the two of you are still alive.

Bakugo looks into your eyes as you whimper in pain. His adrenaline is beginning to stop as he winces in pain, too. But he puts on a brave face.

"Shh.. Fuck. It's okay, baby. We're going to get out of here okay, rescue shouldn't take long." He now says breathlessly holding you close.

You smile weakly at him, grabbing caressing his face.

"You're no liar, Katsuki. It's okay." You say while your voice cracks with emotion. He grits his teeth as tears spill out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry... I can't save us this time, baby " He says, choking on tears and blood. Your tears beging to spill, too.

"There was still so much I wanted to do with you." He sobs out as you listen, sobbing too.

"Fuck, we should've stopped ages ago, our stubborn asses. Should've retired early, go on a vacation, fuck maybe even had a child or two." He huffs out in a sad laughter as you both realize just how different your lives could've been if you had stopped being heroes year before.

Maybe your guy's death would have been more peaceful; one with old gray hair and wrinkles.

You give out a weak laugh. Your vision starts to get smaller, so you try to soak up every last detail of your husband's face.

"I don't regret this." You say choking on your blood. He stares lovingly into your eyes. His vision too slowly giving out.

"I loved that I got to spend every moment with you, Kats. I fucking love you're annoying ass so much. I couldn't imagine breathing without you next to me." You say with a weak smile, gasping for air with each pause.

Bakugo weakly smiles back at you as he brushes the debris off your face. Taking your beauty in for the final time.

"Good thing we don't have to" He says his final comeback as he pulls you in and puts his lips on yours.

Taking each other's final breath...

[If] our time on Earth was through, I'd wanna hold you just for a while, and die with a smile.

If the world was ending, I wanna be next to you~♡

Alternative Happy Ending

Shut up, I'm not crying you are 😭.

It's literally one of the most emotional pieces I've ever written in my life.

Blame Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga. 😭

#x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo #bhna bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #angst #mha angst #mha x reader #mha x you #sobbing

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ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

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My Reading List:

Daryl Dixon

This is a masterlist of some of my favorite works by other writers on tumblr! Features, one shots, drabbles, headcanons, etc. Anything reader x daryl that I enjoyed a lot. Will constantly update as I find more.

To the authors whose work is linked here: I wasn't sure if I should tag you or if that would be rude or annoying plz lmk if tagging is not preferred and I will remove your tag and leave it as just the link!

2 Batteries Away (mildly angsty smut) - by @pirateprincessblog

Wha's up there? (funny little convo) - by @celtic-crossbow

She's alrigh' (another funny little convo. This author is great with these) - by @celtic-crossbow

Can you flip me on my back? (smutty drabble that made me die) - by @dixonzzgirl

Dog headcannons (omg?? this was geniusly adorable????) - by @dixonzzgirl

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness (smutty one shot) - by @scudslut

Long Before (long, smutty, beautifully written reader!greene x Daryl) - by @ladywuvly

When Skies are Gray (we only have the first chapter so far but I'm already hooked) - by @optimist-pine

The World Keeps Getting Hotter (Daryl fears death for the first time, because of you) - by @celtic-crossbow

Older and Older Pt 2 (first fic is younger reader tormenting Daryl with her suggestiveness, second is the smutty payoff for his suffering) - by @d1xonss

Love me, love my cat (Daryl isn’t a cat guy but he doesn’t have a damn choice) by - @spectacular-skywalker

Best Served Cold (Walsh!Reader gets revenge on cheating fiancé with Daryl) - by @gutsby

Afterglow (a lovely Bethyl where Beth survived and ends up in the CRM) - by @galadrieljones

Failed to Protect You (a sad self insert but worth the tears) - by @on-twd-writing

Sleeveless (suggestive & lusty little one shot) - by @fluffy-dixon

Get Off My Back (angsty and cute) - by @metanoiahh

Shane’s Girl (ongoing Walsh!Reader x Daryl Dixon) - by @wannabespacesmuggler

“You’re so, so, so pretty.” (drunk!daryl fluff) - by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Take me High and I’ll Sing (Daryl overworking himself like the stubborn princess he is) - by @celtic-crossbow

The Fair (very sad but very good!) - by @xoxo-sarah

There Ain’t No God Here (spicy breath play smut) - by @darylbae

#reading list #masterlist #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #drabble #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl #fluff #smut #one shot #x reader #masterposts

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foressfaction · 2 months ago

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Warning: mentions of s*icide and other topics that could be triggering

“My trust in you is like a dog with a broken leg”

Time to yap

Can we just talk about how I think if Toby ever got caught and arrested by the police that he would straight up just let them. His life is so shit and aside from maybe in AUs where he lives with his work partners (Tim and Brian) or with Jack, that he is practically homeless and has been barely scrapping by. Lets just say even in one of those AUs he’d surrender due to pure panic cause being held at gun point would probably freak bro the fuck out and he’d have no possible choice. Now of course he’d put up a good chase but maybe in a situation the authorities just run into him. He’d just let it happen.

I’d feel the police would know who he is even after the years. I don’t think he’d look much different other than the changes that are inevitable. I feel they’d be gentle. Though yes. He killed people, has weapons. But by then they learned the story, I just think they’d be gentle. He would have a look of pure fear for once other than what goes on in his head. All he knows is fear, anger, guilt. I think that would be very prominent in his arrest.

He doesn’t know his rights, he doesn’t know how to comply, just lets his body be escorted and almost dragged away into what ever vehicle they would transport him.

In court his mom who still lived would face him for the first time in years after thinking both of her kids were dead. What she saw of her brutally murdered ex husbands body still haunted her. And probably wouldn’t leave her mind upon first glance at her son. She sees him as a killer, but certainly not a monster. Tears would stream but her face would stay blank. Her black mascara running down her pale skin.

Her hair has grown longer and put up in a neat bun, some loose strands from the family’s genetic frizzy hair.

She’d lay eyes on her son that had gone missing all those years ago after such a traumatic event. She knew him better than anyone.

But Toby… he wouldn’t even know who she is. He would have this gut wrenching feeling something was off, everytime he would look at her, like he was supose to know something, feel something. But nothing.

I feel like the court would consist of questions, ones that would only be answered by the sweet sound of silence and head tilt downwards. Obviously he didn’t remember his past. But they would ask so much about it. About Lyra, about the fire, his home life. They probably would mention that his mom is in the room, and ask what she thinks.

She wouldn’t respond sometimes, still in complete numbness and shock that her son was not only alive, but had been homeless and taking more lives of the innocent. At first it was a case of escaping abuse, but there was something far more sinister going on as well.

He looks so much older than what she remembers. So worn out looking and exhausted. His eyes were so dark. She’d recall. So lifeless. Deep down she loved him dearly and wanted nothing bad to happen to him. But that was not up to her. He was a murderer.

I feel there would be a moment where they’d touch hands. He would be shaken up, just like when he was little. But he was so different at the same time. To him this was just some ordinary woman. She also looked so different. He wouldn’t even be able to form words, as that feeling of belonging forced itself to so badly be seen.

Connie would watch her son die. Not by body, but by soul. As he would be sentenced to life in a phych ward. Where there he would be treated like a dog at a pound, a prisoner of multiple first degree murder charges. Including the one of his father.

And in that cell block, behind those bars. He would slowly but surely lose his mind and become inhuman, unresponsive. A living life sized dog that would snap at any hand.

There however, he considered himself free. Even if the torture of the facility progressed, the Operator couldn’t reach him here. A feeling he longed for. But was it really worth it.

Toby dies in this place at the age of 31 due to starving himself as a form of s*uicide. His grief practically killed him and the staff let it happen.

It was all rumored to have been on purpose but it’s still a mystery on what happened to him those years ago. The answer would be unbelievable to most. Which is why he ended up here in the first place. He is so unbelievably ill.

#creepypasta #slenderverse #foressfaction #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons #headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon #Spotify

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mitsvriii · 11 months ago

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"Nothing's New"

In which your partner is never going to pay attention to you, because they’re too focused on their dead lover

Bell’s notes: “writer bell goes too far with this fic-” im /j no ones gonna say that, angst powers pls work tho, like im asdlkfjawel;fjsd;jf;lska, i cant write dude, let me like, plan this out in my head before writing nonsense, LIKE BRO, feral over angst LORD, 100k likes and you get part 2 /jjjj, growling i love angst, MWHAHAHA, sorry ely, yuka, mhie, snob, and zee if you read this 😔😔😔, i listened to “IT Girl” while writing this 😋, got carried away with Ayato’s part oopsies, i believe Guizhong for the ladies but whatever 😔😔😔, cut out Wanderer & Childe in the end because i’m TIRED, not proofread

Story details: Ayato lowkey a bitch, scratch that highkey, reader has self-doubt, Neuvilette doesn’t mean to be mean he just ISSS, GUIZHONG DID NOTHING STOP MAKING HER THE ONE IN BLAME IN THESE ZHONGLI SCENARIOS, oh and I couldn’t be bothered with Xiao’s part like a quarter through he’s such a flexible yet straight character, it’s the way you can tell when I got lazy with each part, chance Xiao & Zhongli are gonna be ooc as i’ve never written anything but short headcanons for them before

Characters & Triggers: Ayato, Neuvilette, Xiao, & Zhongli; reader has self-doubt, mention of death, mention of martial neglect

Reader details: female reader in Ayato’s part is explicit. female reader in Neuvilette’s part can be interpreted with the way you read it. the other parts, however, shouldn’t have a specified reader type. reader’s personality, race/ethnicity, height, physical descriptions, or anything of the sort is not mentioned. if anything is let me know and i’ll edit it.

Ayato: No surprise the Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t pay attention to his new wife, the one that he didn’t marry first. You knew that he didn’t love you, and most likely never would because you were, in fact, the second pick. Actually, it was probably in the hundreds based on the amount of marriage arrangement offers Ayato had gotten considering he was one of the biggest figures in Inazuma. It didn’t matter, but he most likely picked you because your clan was a small one to put it lightly, so he most likely chose it, and you, because it wouldn’t be a hassle with the press. But of course, he would choose the person and clan that seemed, “easy”. It hurt seeing some of the people’s sympathetic stares, such as Ayaka’s, Thoma’s, and a few of the older women working in the estate. You got used to the lack of greeting from Ayato when he got off work, the lack of warmth beside you at night. You found it hilarious, although you were hysteric at the time as you had just found out that Ayato was off that day and neglected to see you, that he never, ever laid down in the same bed as you. It doesn’t matter no matter how hard you work around the estate, how long you sit up doing his work, which you soon quit once he yelled at you like a homeless dog, or even the distinct flower you made out of one of Ayato’s favorite sweets that he ignored. Not even a glance at your general direction, either. After a while, you decided to do some digging on his past wife, only to find out that she was in fact near perfect. Perfect reputation, perfect everything, to put it shortly. Shortly after asking Ayaka what happened to her, by pulling the sad, guilty wife card, you found out she was a victim of an assassination attempt that turned into a success. Of course, Ayato and his perfect wife would only be torn apart by death. It was poetic, and it made you sick. So what were you to do but endure the slow torture that you and Ayato’s marriage was? After all, nothing you could do could change how he felt about you.

Neuvillette: The famous hydro dragon, at least to those who knew his ‘secret’. His past lover, unfortunately, died before him, no doubt to his immortality. Of course, you would soon die, maybe in a few decades but, hey, it wasn’t like he would miss you. You could only wait awake at night as Neuvillette went to fix himself his own meal, despite you staying up to cook him one and await for his return from work. It’s not that was the only time he never paid attention to you, after all the man had most likely been grieving his wife for centuries at this point in time. So what were you to do besides stay and watch this man be emotionally constipated around you? Why did he even marry you in the first place, then? It couldn’t be because his past wife resembled you, and it certainly wasn’t because you both acted the same. Was it because he needed someone to cling to? I mean, you weren’t exactly someone who seemed to not fit the criteria of a compassionate co-worker who would comfort Neuvillette in his times of distress. Did Neuvilette only come to you because you were his way of grieving? It would make partial sense, to cling to the nearest piece of comfort to help with the pain of loss. It made you feel like nothing but an object meant for his emotional wants, but in reality, that’s all you ever are and will ever be to him.

Xiao: The famous adeptus long ago, had someone close to him. Shame they fell to waste during the archon wars, along with the other adepti. It was no surprise that everyone familiar with Liyue stories knew about the two of them together, which unfortunately included you. It didn’t pain you that much until your oh-so-loveable boyfriend got distracted by two kids playing with a Xiao lantern and one of her. After that, it only devolved into more. The lack of visits to your room in the inn, the lack of responses whenever you left your little notes for him near your meet-up place, and the extreme lack of thank-you-notes whenever you left Xiao almond tofu. It didn’t matter that you started to skip and completely ignore doing all of these things just to see if he would notice because the adeptus failed to appear in your room just to check in to see if you were okay. This behavior was unlike him, at least in the sense of him completely ignoring you. The only answer you could think of, that logically made sense, of course, was that he was reminded of his past loved one because of the run-in with the lanterns you two had while out in Liyue. So in terms, he seemed to disconnect with you because of the memories of his past significant other? You knew the adepti didn’t die peacefully, you could tell that much from the stories, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that also applied to Xiao’s past lover. There was nothing you could do about it though, because if you knew Xiao, he wouldn’t talk about her to you nor push her aside for you.

Zhongli: Guizhong. Of course, you were familiar with the name, everyone in Liyue was. Everyone might be a stretch considering the visitors and children, but the point’s been made. Morax and Guizhong were close. Close in a sense of possibly having relationship affairs but that was only explicit to you because of the way your lover would glace at glaze lilies. You couldn’t call him your lover, could you? Not with the way he would hum to the glaze lilies, the way his eyes would also drift away from you whenever you talked as you took strolls through Guilu Plains, and the way he would opt to tell stories of specific tales of his time as Morax, ones that included Guizhong in some way. It got to the point where you had to make up tasks that you had to do daily just to get away from the walks you two took, not to hear the different-yet-similar stories of Morax and totally not Guizhong. It was childish of you to be doing so, you had yourself convinced, as you couldn’t blame Guizhong for any of it. She had no part of this besides well, besides being your number one stressor for the past few weeks. It was tiring yet somehow for the sake of not wanting a glare or side-eye from Zhongli about his stories, which you never thought you’d get that tired of hearing, you kept your mouth shut, despite how hard it was. You knew it would only take so much more, though, before you said something about it.

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x you #xiao x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #ayato x you #ayato x reader #genshin angst #genshin headcannons

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thatawkwardmoth · 5 months ago

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I'm sorry but if you think Logan would be a bad dad or just straight up not care about his children, read the comics or watch X-Men evolution.

Yes, Logan is a brute and he's 'not nice' a lot of the time. But if you think that this man wouldn't raise Laura, Gabby, Jubilee and all his other little shitheads out in a cabin in Canada, far away from people (but close enough for cell service, he gets it Jubilee, please stop yelling in his ear about Instagram), you're dead wrong.

Gabby's room would have built in bookshelves and she'd have a killer treehouse outside, her bedframe would be hand carved wood with pieces meant to withstand her claw for a while. She'd have plushies and posters and whatever she wanted. Logan could go without food for a while just for her to get the things she liked. She could not go without food and neither could the rest of the shitheads. Yes, Laura is her main adult but Logan won't let Gabby have a lackluster childhood.

Laura's room would be covered. With whatever she wanted. Even if she changed her mind and redecorated a thousand times, it's her room. It's not a cell or some blank white room. She's not X-23. She's his girl, the Wolverine. She can have a small gym set up to train and keep her active, 100%. But she'll come to eat when called and won't overdo it, healing factor or not. Or Logan will lock the door and ground her. He keeps the porch light on for her every night, knowing sometimes she just wants to run, to stretch her legs and feel the freedom she has. He'll wait on the porch, beer in hand and offer her some food when she's back. Tell her Gabby's asleep and she's fine, like Laura can't hear her snoring. She's got his attitude and they butt head but he'll always be the first to remind her she's not an experiment. She can put up a hundred dumb posters and read a hundred dumb books that aren't educational, he doesn't care. He'll even listen with minimal grumbling.

Jubilee's room is more adult than her old one is. It's got a jack and jill bathroom that leads to Shogo's little nursery. It's not used very often, but it's got all the updated supplies, for her and the baby. She's got the whole lawn to use her powers and not deal with complaints (unless it's the people inside the house), a hand made playhouse for Shogo when he gets older. She's got it all, whenever she wants to just run away. Whenever she needs a vacation or just to come see him.

Kitty's got one too, it's not changed. She can be the Red Queen to Krakoa, the fearsome Shadowcat to others but she's still got a room at his cabin with pictures upon pictures lining the walls, plush X-Men toys bought with Jubilee to annoy them, little notes from Rachel and Illyana. It's like a piece of the old Shadowcat Logan refuses to let Kitty Kate get rid of. She's got her own bathroom so she stops phasing through the doors and walls of the other ones without knocking and she's got a little balcony for her plants to die on because she never remembers to water them and Logan also forgets even though he tries to remember.

Logan's got a room that he hardly ever uses. He finds the girls in it (and his sons sometimes) in it more than he is. His bed is the communal 'i had a nightmare but we're not talking about it' place. It's the only reason he's got a TV in there. To turn on whatever dumb thing they want to watch, even if he hates it, he'll sit through nine seasons. There are stickers on his dresser (on most things actually, Gabby's personal signature), a giant plush dog bed for Jonathan the Wolverine, multiple pillows he doesn't use but they do. He even made sure to buy a comfortable blanket set even though he doesn't care at all when it comes to himself. He's survived worse but if it brings them comfort, he's going that extra mile.

He's stunted emotionally and sometimes messes up but this cabin, the one he's fixed up and added onto, he knows he did right by them with this. But he refuses to fix the creaky steps or the painted light switches, the chipped tiles or the old decorations that he shoves in the attic. Those are the character the house has, memories he doesn't want to lose like he's lost so many before.

#logan howlett #james logan howlett #x men #laura kinney #gabby kinney #wolverine #kitty pryde #kate pryde #shadowcat #jubilation lee #jubilee #hes a dad #scout #honey badger

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steddiealltheway · 2 years ago

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(This is way way way longer than intend. You have been warned.)

Steve cannot stand Eddie Munson. And the feeling is definitely mutual. From their first meeting Eddie had sneered, “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. I never understood why they called him that when I was right there.” He had obnoxiously fluffed his hair as the kids had laughed along.

Okay, yeah. Maybe it wasn’t like the greatest insult of the century, but it was a cheap shot. Robin tells him that that’s the stupidest reason she’s ever heard when it came to an automatic dislike. But it’s not just that!

It’s the loud dramatics that Dustin is always praising and imitating. And the dumb faces Munson pulls that makes his eyes twinkle manically. It’s the constant jabs whenever he sees Steve - calling him “pretty boy” and “King Steve.” He tries not to flinch and give Munson the satisfaction - he hates that damn smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

The kids call them a divorced couple - throwing in “Mom and Dad are fighting again” every so often. He and Munson hate it - but that’s the only thing they’ll ever agree on.

But then the kids come up with an evil plan that isn’t revealed until it’s too late. Dustin invites Steve to a game night with the rest of the Party which… fine, he’ll come to it especially since they’re having it at his house. Sometimes he can’t say no to the kids - specifically when Will gives him those puppy dog eyes, but he’ll never admit to it.

But the dreaded day finally comes, and Steve is in the kitchen pulling a pizza out of the oven when he hears that damn voice. “You didn’t tell me this was Steve Harrington’s house,” Munson spits out Steve’s name as if it’s the most vile thing he’s ever said.

“You promised to join our game night no matter what!” Dustin argues.

That’s when Steve’s eyes land on Munson. He looks entirely out of his element for once and is just wearing that damn Hellfire shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with ripped black jeans. The lack of the usual leather jacket or flannel or something as a second layer makes Steve feel… weird- no, angry.

Munson snorts, “Comfy enough?”

Steve glances down at his yellow sweater and gives the older boy a confused glare. “Something wrong with what I’m wearing, Munson?” It’s his turn to spit out the boy’s name like it’s an insult.

“I would just prefer if you were wearing less,” Eddie says with a sarcastic smile, knowing the line will make Steve flush red with rage.

Butterflies stir and die in Steve’s stomach at the comment. “And I’d prefer if you were wearing more.”

“Flustered, Harrington?”

“In your dreams.”

Munson winks and comments, “Well you’re there often enough.”

Steve just knows he could win in a fight against him, and severely wants to try in this moment.

“What the fuck guys?” Dustin says. Okay, maybe Steve forgot he was there.

“Language,” Steve warns then continues, “Why did you invite him?”

“Why did he invite you,” Munson fires back at Steve although he wasn’t even talking to him.

Steve gestures around. “It’s my damn house!” Munson’s mouth opens and closes a few times, realizing there’s no good way to make a comeback out of that. Steve revels in the win.

Munson just sighs and stalks out of the kitchen towards where the rest of the group is loudly chatting.

Dustin stays where he was with his hands on his hips which looks like a poor reflection of Steve’s usual stance. “Can you guys behave and get along just for once?”

“Not if he’s going to act like that.”

Dustin sighs and opens his arms dramatically - Steve thinks he got that from Munson - saying, “If you two just gave up on whatever rivalry there is between you, then you’d really get along. Come on for just one night!”

Steve thinks about it for a moment. Not having to constantly be on edge around the other boy for one night. Not constantly being a target to Munson’s jabs and sarcastic flirtatious quips. Not dealing with him constantly getting up in his physical space just to rile him up. He replies to Dustin, “No way.” He can’t let his guard down for one night because… well… because… he just can’t!

Dustin sighs and steals a plate and three slices of pizza. “You’re going to need more pizza,” is all he says before he announces to everyone that thee pizza is ready.

Steve sighs and looks at his timer which is close to going off - meaning the other pizza already in the oven is done. He’s prepared. He warns the kids that the fresh one is hot but doesn’t bother when Eddie comes in. He only feels a little bad when he hears the boy curse under his breath.

And that’s definitely not why he pulls a cold Coke out of the fridge and hands it to him so he can relieve the pain. He just does it because it’s worth seeing the suspicious face Munson pulls at the kind gesture. Never let them know your next move.

Soon everyone is finishing up their pizza in Steve’s living room where Steve sits on the floor as far away from Munson as he can. “Okay, first up charades!” Steve gives Dustin a look after the announcement. “What? El has never played. Everyone partner up in teams of two!”

Teams of two makes no sense when it comes to this large of a group, but when does anything make sense when it comes to the kids? Oh shit. Everyone pairs off into teams of two - Mike and Will, El and Max, and Lucas and Dustin leaving…

“No way,” Munson announces before Steve can beat him to it.

“For this one game, guys,” Dustin pleads with them.

Steve is about to argue, but he catches the extremely judgmental face Max is making and doesn’t want to even hear whatever comment is swirling around in her head. “Fine. This one game.”

Munson gives him the same suspicious look as they get little scraps of paper to fill out with random things to mime during the game. Once a random bowl is filled with the paper, the teams pair off to sit in the chairs and on the couch.

There’s a small available space left on the couch. Steve takes up the entire space expecting Munson to sit on the floor in front of him. Instead, he shrugs and flops right on top of him. Steve just obnoxiously wraps his hands around his waist and pulls him in tighter until he can tuck his chin over his shoulder. “What a sweetheart,” Munson whispers into his ear then has the audacity to kiss his temple.

Steve tries to suppress a full body shiver and is shocked when Munson doesn’t comment on it. Then the game goes on. At one point, Steve starts absentmindedly stroking his thumb up and down Munson’s arm while watching El and Max score six points. But then there’s a hand in his hair, lightly scratching, and he becomes overly aware of everywhere he’s making contact with Eddie.

He wants to kill him. He also wants to melt against him and give into the touch, but that’s exactly what Eddie wants! So, he ups his game, in whatever game they’re playing, and moves his hand to Eddie’s thigh finding the closest rip in his jeans and hooking his thumb under the material to lightly stroke at the skin there. Then he uses his other hand to sneak a hand under the hem of Eddie’s shirt and stroke at the skin at his waist.

Steve can feel the shape intake of breath as Eddie tenses up then relaxes back against him. The hand in his hair then tugs roughly, and Steve bites back a fucking moan.

He freezes as he realizes where they are. And who they’re around. Steve takes a quick glance around but finds everyone too intrigued in the game to notice whatever the fuck is happening between him and Eddie. The other boy must notice the freeze in his antics because his hand quickly comes out of his hair. “Kids,” Steve whispers.

“Right,” Eddie whispers back. Then the round is ending, and Dustin is jumping up to play which clears a space on the couch next to them. Steve takes the moment to gently move Eddie off of him, knees coming up immediately after the other boy is gone, and he finds Eddie snatching a pillow on his lap. What the fuck.

Steve tries to clear his head during the round, but Eddie’s arm is still pressed against him and it’s overwhelmingly distracting. God he can’t stand him.

Sooner than he expects, Dustin and Lucas’s round is over only racking up four answers and a bitter argument. Steve realizes he and Eddie are the last group to go up. Eddie nudges him to get up, pillow still firmly in his lap, and Steve would make a comment if the sight didn’t make his head spin.

He takes a deep breath as Dustin starts the timer for them, and Steve snatches up a piece of paper - train wreck. Yeah, that’s how he feels. He makes an awkward gesture of his hands coming together then blowing up that no one could possibly get.

“Train wreck.”

Steve grabs another paper - ice. He makes a cube shape with his hand and shivers.

“Igloo… No, ice.”

Dracula. Steve tries making fangs.

“Vampire.” Steve gestures for more. “Dracula!”

Lightsaber. Steve pretends to hold one and slice.

“Lightsaber.”

Steve hears Dustin whisper under his breath, “What the fuck?” As he pulls out paper after paper until the timer runs out.

The kids stare at the two in awe and shock as Dustin announces, “Eighteen. You guys got eighteen…”

Steve and Eddie share a look of slight discomfort. That can’t mean anything. Really. It can’t. Maybe Steve is just good at charades. So, Steve just nods at the man and sits on the couch in front of him. Another round in and Eddie is hooking his legs around Steve’s torso, and Steve is shooting him a glare. Insufferable asshole. He lays his head against his knee to mess with him as Eddie plays with his hair.

Soon enough, it’s their turn again, and Steve is grateful because he was about to embarrassingly doze off comfortably because of Eddie Munson. He takes his place on the couch and watches as Eddie prepares to start. This is the moment they prove everyone wrong about being a good team.

Eddie’s hands make a circle. “Ferris wheel.” Eddie shoots him a look and picks up the next paper. Shit.

His hand awkwardly flops in what Steve supposes is meant to be a wave. “A wave.” Eddie gestures for more. “The ocean.” Eddie picks up another paper.

Eddie points up then use the same hand to gesture something coming up. Something rising… “Sunrise.” Eddie picks up another paper.

Their round goes on the same as before, but this time the kids are all laughing as Steve guesses stuff almost immediately after Eddie makes a gesture. The timer goes off, and Dustin announces, “Twenty-five!”

A big grin splits out on Eddie’s face which Steve is sure he mirrors as he runs over to him and gives him a high-five. “That was so metal!” Eddie says, eyes twinkling with glee. Steve wants to stay in this moment forever.

Wait. No. He doesn’t. He fires back, “Just because I’m excellent at guessing, it had nothing to do with you, Munson.” Unfortunately, the name doesn’t quite land as it usually does, it now sounds a bit twisted up in joy.

Nonetheless, Eddie’s smile slightly falters as he punches Steve’s arm and replies, “I’m just great at miming stuff, Harrington.”

Dustin clears his throat, and Steve realizes they have an audience. “Next up we have Pictionary which is just charades but with drawing. Does anyone want to change groups?”

Steve freezes. Shit. This is supposed to be when he and Munson argue that yes, they do, but before they can Dustin says with a little too much excitement, “Looks like no one does, so we’ll keep it the same!” He goes off to wheel in a whiteboard Steve happened to find in his dad’s unused office.

Eddie sits on the arm of the couch this time - which Steve realizes could’ve been an option the whole time - and whispers, “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Because no one wanted to change groups.”

“Well, I didn’t see you raise your hand.”

“I didn’t see you raise your hand either,” Steve fires back but then the reality of what he said hits him. Shit. Eddie shoots him a shit eating grin.

Two rounds in, he’s sliding off the arm of the couch and into Steve’s lap complaining about it being uncomfortable. For some reason, Steve doesn’t tell him to just sit on the floor like he did.

Pictionary goes the same as charades does, with Steve and Eddie somehow on the same wavelength with every single scribble. On their last turn, Eddie’s marker dies out and Steve somehow guesses that the invisible scribbles are the Statue of Liberty.

I think that’s what really does it for everyone. The kids start demanding to know how they’re cheating, and Eddie and Steve actually team up to defend themselves on how they have no idea how they’re so good at the games.

The whole things has everyone switching teams, but it turns out that only Steve and Eddie can guess each other’s gestures and scribbles. At one point Steve yells at Dustin, “How could you not get the Loch Ness Monster from that?!”

And Dustin yells back, “How could you get it from his hand just going up and down?!”

Even when they all agree to do a round of everyone excluding the other half of Steve or Eddie, they find they can only guess around five things from Steve or Eddie on average. They let Steve and Eddie team up one last time and they score above twenty correct guesses on both turns.

It becomes suspicious to the point that Eddie and Steve both start questioning the group on whether they’re faking it. But when Max says, “I don’t think any one of us could’ve guessed that when Eddie’s hand started going up and it wasn’t even past his shoulder that it meant a giraffe - except for you,” Steve cringes and realizes she’s probably right.

He glances at his watch just for something to do when he realizes that they’ve actually been on this argument for a long time. Long enough that Nancy should be there any minute to pick a few of the kids up.

Sure enough, there’s a knock on Steve’s door. “Looks like Nancy is here.”

The teens start to complain about how time has gone too fast, and they'll have to beat Steve and Eddie another time. Dustin finally gets to the door first, then he yells, "Last one to make it to the car is the true loser!" The kids bolt.

Nancy puts her arms up as they pass her. She gives Steve and Eddie a tight smile after she finds all the kids struggling to fit themselves in her car.

"I brought half of them here; I can take them back," Eddie offers kindly. Jeez, Steve wishes he could be like that with him.

"Thank you, but I think they'd kill me if I tried to kick any of them out. You know how they are."

"We definitely do," Steve says and smiles brightly at Nancy. "Tell Robin I said hi."

Nancy's smile turns into a real one as a blush rises on her face. She nods and quickly says her goodbyes. Steve closes the door only to realize Eddie is still there. "Want to help me clean up?" Steve asks, fully expecting a rude response from the man.

"Sure," Eddie says instead, moving to pick up empty soda cans. Steve tries not to let his eyes linger as he bends over to do so. He shakes his head and moves to clean the whiteboard and wheel it back to his father's office.

When he comes back, he finds Eddie has stacked all the cans haphazardly in his arms. "Where's the trash can?" Steve motions for him to follow and pulls out the drawer in his kitchen with his trash can. "Rich people," Eddie mumbles as he drops the cans in.

Steve moves the pizza pans into the sink to wash later as Eddie comes up behind him. "We make a pretty good team, Harrington."

Steve scoffs and turns around, finding Eddie smiling openly at him. He doesn't like it. It feels too... suspicious. "In your dreams, Munson."

Eddie's face falls again. "At least you're nice in my dreams."

Steve laughs. He's got to be kidding. "Why would I be nice to you? You can't stand me, and the feeling is mutual, buddy."

Steve becomes overly aware of how trapped he is with his back digging into the counter. It's worse when Eddie leans forward and puts his hands on the counter at each side. Steve's crossed arms are the only reason Eddie isn't fully pressed up against him. And he does not want to put his arms down and fulfill the want in his traitorous mind.

Eddie breath ghosts over his lips as he says, "Yeah, you invade my space at every given moment with your hands itching to touch me because you can't stand me so much."

Steve cocks his head and leans further into Eddie's space, not afraid of the close proximity. "Yet look who's the one invading mine first."

"And look who's leaning into it."

With that Steve shoves Eddie off of him. He doesn't want to play these fucking mind games with the asshole. What he really wants is to get as far away from his as possible and to take a really cold shower.

Eddie laughs, and Steve just needs him to shut the fuck up for once. And that's the exact moment he storms into Eddie's space and kisses him.

And that's the exact moment he realizes he's fucked up.

(Thank you @henderdads for encouraging me to turn my concept into a ficlet, and since I am unable to stop myself from writing way more than I intend and making everything into a wip... I will be dropping the AO3 Link to this once I continue it. Also, this isn't even the whole first chapter or part to this story ahhhh)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #another... wip #are you kidding me

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carlsangel · 3 months ago

Text

his guardian angel (g.i.t.w, ch 6)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: breaking bones, blood all that jazz

masterlist here!

other chapters here! (plus a map to alexandria to make it make sense is here!)

Seeing Carl get shot was something you expected back when you first met him. Granted, back then you were making assumptions to tell yourself not to get attached. You didn’t expect him to get shot, but you told yourself he could. Seeing it was different than imagining it. He’s told you everything about himself. Maybe it was a bit fast for only knowing him a week, but you were the only person who would understand.

He told you about Lori. Every detail about her. The fact that her bathroom had a very distinct smell that came from a wallflower she used the same scent in all the time. He talked about the memories he had of walking in when he was little and she’d be putting her hair up in a clip or putting on deodorant. He mentioned her terrible pancakes she made on Sundays as well. He was grateful for his dog.

He talked about his dog that he had before the turn as well. He didn’t only feed Lori’s terrible pancakes to him but he also spent a lot of time with him. Sometimes if he fell while playing outside and scraped his skin, his dog would lick his face to make him laugh. It was a precious dog, from what he remembers.

His memories with Shane, well those were so sweet. He remembers his first day of school one year, he was sort of nervous. He wasn’t sure why, he was really little but he remembers Shane trying to make him feel better. It mostly worked, he went to school and had an amazing day. When his dad and Shane got home, they celebrated with pizza. He also talked to you about how he didn’t want those memories to be tainted by the fact that he watched him die so young. He realized that his dad had a reason to kill him as he got older, and he felt bad for resenting Rick like he did.

Thinking about everything he told you, right in that moment when he was shot, hurt like hell. It terrified you, almost like it was all for nothing. He didn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t have been there, in that spot in that moment. His life flashed before your eyes.

But that couldn’t stop you from doing what you came for,

You focus back on Carl and watch as his dad picks him up. You wanted to ensure he’d get somewhere safe. You wanted to help him. If you couldn’t be on the floor with him, you could serve as his guardian angel.

He has people protecting him in every which way, his dad runs through the walkers with him in his arms, in front of him is the woman who you know to be Michonne. She’s slicing through them like they were nothing, meanwhile you begin to shoot. Any walker that approaches Rick at his sides, you kill. You find out the general direction they are running to, so you clear the entrance for them. Meanwhile you can hear walkers pooling at the bottom of the house you were on top of. It didn’t occur to you that there may be people inside.

So you panic. You clear a couple more walkers through the path and they get him inside. If you drop from the roof of the front of house, the building they ran into is straight ahead. He’s safe now, you can go to him. So you do. You safely maneuver yourself to the front of the roof to find there’s a somewhat of a clear path. It was now or never. You slide down the roof and hit the floor quite hard; a sharp pain overtaking any other feeling in your body. Your feet tingle and you feel like you can’t walk but you have to. You have to run.

There were walkers left and right, you used the back of your rifle to push them away. You can’t help but think that this run feels like forever, especially with your backpack and rifle dragging you down. Not to mention the excruciating pain in your ankle. You run onto the porch and slam into the door, you scramble to get the door open but instead, someone opens it and pulls you inside. With pulling you inside, they also pull you to the floor. You hit the floor hard, your backpack and the belongings inside jabbing into your back and you wince. Above you was Rick, an axe in his hand which he held to you.

“Who are you?” His voice is grim and gruff. You didn’t realize it but your hands were raised as if you were in a stick up. Michonne rushes over and pulls him off you. The others in the room are shocked to see you, especially Aaron. He’d look for you constantly before Carl, he’s the one who supplied you with a lot without even interacting. “She’s just a kid.” He shouts. “The Ghost in the Woods. She’s just a kid.” Aaron says in astonishment. You sit up, letting your backpack and rifle slide off your shoulder and you press your hand against your back to alleviate the pain. “Holy shit.” You croak, Aaron moves to help you. He gets you standing and while he does that, you can’t help but notice Rick storm out of the building, which you soon learn is the infirmary.

Upon standing up you see Carl and the wound in his eye. You pull from Aaron to look at him, then the woman working on him. “He’s alive?” You question in pure disbelief. How did he manage to live? “Yes, for now, but I need space to work on him. Sit down and I’ll check on you after.” She orders, focusing on the sutures in his eye. You nod and let Aaron help you. Soon everyone’s rushed out of the infirmary. You sit there in silence, listening to the sound of people grunting and shouting as they fight the dead. It’s just you, the doctor, and Carl.

You’re somewhere you never thought you’d be in a million years.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

A couple hours later, after finding out you’d broken your ankle after hopping off roofs a bunch, you were told you’d be stuck in the infirmary. All the walkers were killed, you were told about some fire in the large pond Alexandria had and you were sad to miss it. People came in and out, getting checked up while you rested. While sleeping, you couldn’t help but recognize a familiar voice. Your eyes flicker open and you look to the people in the room.

You’re so delirious, that when you wake up to be met with the sight of your sister, you think you are dead. Or dreaming. It’s a cruel ass dream if it is. But, you know you aren’t because your head is pounding and the pain in your ankle is throbbing. She barely walks in the door and sees you. She calls out to you so you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, but she’s already tackling you in a hug. That’s when you knew it was all real. You can smell and feel her hair, plus the soft jolts that come from her body as she sobs into your shoulder.

She looks so different. She’s drenched in blood. Her face is more mature and her hair is longer. She looks incredibly tired. But she’s absolutely ecstatic. “I’ve been looking for you.” She tells you, pulling away from your shoulder to admire you. Granted you’re covered in walker insides and you smell like shit, but she still admires you. “You have?” You mutter. She nods and smiles brightly. “I just arrived here with a group. The…leader his name is Rick. How did you get here?” She looks concerned as she gently holds the back of your head, taking in your presence.

“It’s a long story.”

She sits in bed with you and you share your stories. Apparently she found the group after the prison fell and had been with them since. Carl never really mentioned her, you didn’t notice her when she arrived at the gate either, mainly because you were too focused on Carl. She also looks nothing like she did when you’d last seen her. When she arrived her hair was a massive mess that didn’t give you a chance to look at her face. All the other times you could’ve observed her you spent with Carl. She felt bad when she found out how you’d been living. Being the Ghost in the Woods and all.

A bit later, maybe a day and a half went by and you hadn’t seen Carl. Now, you were clean and patched up. You left him alone for a while, just because he was upset about losing his eye. It freaked him out and he needed time to process. Although, he was relieved to hear that you were there. But, soon enough, your sister took you into his room to see him. He was awake and sat up in bed. He was happy to see you. You trudge in, your arm on your sister’s shoulder and shes holding on you tightly around the waist. She sits you down at the edge of his bed and you look at him for a moment and just smile. He looks between you and your sister. It takes him a moment and he squints his eye.

“That’s…” He croaks out. He soon realizes how similar you two look and he puts the pieces together. “Your sister.” He smiles softly, quite shocked but still calm and quiet. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You question jokingly. Your sister giggles at his astonishment and leaves the room. “I’m glad you two found each other. You deserve it.” He tells you. You smile brightly at him. “I’m glad you’re alive. You had me worried you know?” Your words are nervous, yet almost giddy. “You were worried?” He teases. “I thought you said no attachments.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah whatever.” You scoot over and lay your back against him and he wraps his arm around you, leaning his head against yours.

He was content. He was happy. But so were you. You didn’t have to isolate yourself anymore. Maybe you lost your dad, but that’s just apart of life. You got your sister back.

Maybe attachment isn’t the worst thing in the world.

a/n: i hope u guys enjoyed the series i love it to DEATH!!!! if you want to request more fics or drabbles and stuff pertaining to this series i will for sure write it bc im so sad its over but YEAH!!! ermmm…that’s all i have to say :)) thank u for readingggg OKAY I LOVE YOU BYE!!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver @baileebear @tabathastan @sstar-ggirl

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd smut #twd fanfiction #ghost in the woods

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