#She would have lived in the woods. At least until she had time to make a decision

[bonefall]

Same anon- wasnt trying to imply that with blossom either! Just wanted to say that it could've been read that way and could be triggering to some, and the fact that no one speaks up felt off, even if its against the code. I've never read the more recent books either, so by the way the posts were spaced it felt like the series goes Df battle > Tempest > Ashfur in the span of a few moons, meaning blossom went from one horrible event to another and was still feeling isolated and shameful. Sorry if anything came off as confrontational or mean!

As for the 'why dont they leave?' thing, I think we all default to how Ravenpaw actually DOES leave and we just apply the same logic. As humans we naturally draw connections, and if we see a situation where a whole clan turns on one cat, we ask why didn't they just do what Ravenpaw (or Dovewing iirc) did and decide they can't deal with this and it's better to move on. It's a pattern that we itch to see fulfilled: Tigerclaw turns everyone on Ravenpaw so he leaves, Dovewing gets her whole clan telling her to do better so she leaves, Blossomfall gets named as a traitor and repeatedly gets dishonor titles to remind her of all her faults- why do cat not leave???

But yeah, if Blossom got to heal, i retract my statement entirely. I just was going off the logic that she felt isolated/cut off and that being told she's better off invisible would just shove her further into that belief. I do wanna ask, do you know what the thing Blossom spoke up about that got her slapped with the title?

Ah, I see! Let me clear up the order of events so far;

ThunderClan's Tempest, shortly after the Great Battle, dealing with the Clan moving on. Contains some parts of the canonical Dovewing's Silence but mostly Bramblestar's Storm

AVOS, with Blossomfall joining the Kin and being rescued sometime towards the end. Still working out some kind of incident where her kits are either stolen, or have to be retrieved-- the sire is not known

Squirrelflight’s Horror, a book about how Bramblestar turns a tense political situation into an excuse to leverage his power to abuse his deputy after feeling slighted.

TBC, which is at least a year after AVOS, with all of Blossomfall's children now being young warriors and her life coming back into order

So Blossomfall is having a pretty long journey here! Her life has been rocky and she can be a really nasty person, but she was brought back into ThunderClan because she is still loved. There are people who really want to see her get better.

And as for when she gets Clearface'd, I'm torn on it either being the first sign and SUPER shocking because it was just the normal amount of Blossom-sass, OR it coming right after the death of Bristlefrost and she argued that

"Bristlefrost was a codebreaker but who cares! She was a warrior of ThunderClan! There's no way that StarClan--"

And then interrupted and quashed with the title.

So, first option, to demonstrate Bramblefake's new level of malice at the earliest possible point and use Bristlefrost's death as the "turning point" of the arc where cruelty becomes violence,

Or, as a direct response to Bristlefrost's death, and the moment where there begins to be suspicion, because Bramblestar is NOT this good at naming.

[sinsofsummers]

sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 Lou!! Congratulations 🎊🎉 on 6k!!

So how about Arranged Marriage w/ Simon?

Again congrats to 6k 🙃💛🦡

.⋆｡Give 'Em Hell｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Your parents think you need to get married and settle down, so they called in a favour. A big military man of a husband might do you some good just not in the way they think

Warnings: arranged marriage, sort of sugar baby/daddy relationship, misogynist parents, future revenge, mention of hook-ups WC: 986

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You often wondered about the true scope of your family’s stupidity. Sure, there were moments in your childhood where you had the vivid thought that no one could be as ignorant and blatantly idiotic as your parents were but somehow, they had absolutely hit rock bottom of moronic decisions.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m getting married?” Your mother gasped.

“Watch your tone young lady, that is no way to speak to your parents.” She scolded as your father’s expression hardened. There was no question that your parents were ‘traditional’ believing that women were less than their male counterparts in every way but while they had constantly lectured you on those beliefs, they hadn’t gone so far as to inflict them upon you, until now at least. They even helped you and encouraged you through college!

“You’ve been running wild long enough, it’s time for you to do your duty,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “We’ve let you chase your silly little dreams but you’re getting older and your clock is ticking.” Your father clicked his tongue and reached for the tumbler of expensive bourbon on the table beside his recliner.

“We’ve picked out a good man!” Your mother chirped from her place on the expensive love seat next to your father, “He’s highly decorated in the military, he can give you a good life.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! I’m not marrying anybody! Period!” You snarled. Anger curled in your gut, turning your tone sour.

Your father’s glass slammed down onto the wood, making your mother flinch. “You will marry him or I will make your life a living hell. I make one call and no one will want to hire you, not even as a fucking garbage collector. You know the connections I have. Suck it up and be a responsible adult for once.” 

——————

“I don’t want a husband.” The man across from you made a sound that you thought might have been a laugh. Simon, as you had learned from your parents, was a Lieutenant in a special ops task force. Never married, no family to speak of and copious amounts of money, your mother had gleefully added as she literally dragged you into the official-looking building where you would be meeting your future spouse.

He was by all means, an intimidating man. Almost 6 and a half feet tall and wearing a stupid balaclava with a skull on it, he looked more fitting being in a slasher movie than in a conference room negotiating marriage stipulations. His bulky, tattooed arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him seem even bigger to you, as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t want a wife.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. 

“Then why are you here?” 

His massive shoulders rolled back as his head tilted, cracking his neck. “Same as you— orders.” You hummed under your breath and forced your gaze away from his tanned arms and up to his eyes. He was obviously a quiet man but in no way did that intimidate you. He seemed more pissed off at your father who had so rudely guided (shoved) you into the room than he did at you.

You cleared your throat. “I won’t fuck you.” This time, his laugh was more discernible. His broad chest rumbled with the sound.

“‘M not expecting you to, not unless you beg,” you made a face at him but Simon continued, “I get deployed most of the time, I’d just like someone to take care of the house and spend my money.”

“So I would be your sugar baby.” He shrugged.

“If that’s what ya wanna call it. Do what cha want, I don’t care. We just need to show up to official events together.” 

You planted your elbows on the table between you and stared into his brown eyes. Simon didn’t waver. “So you wouldn’t have an issue with me getting a job?”

“None.” He answered quickly.

“Going back to school?”

“I’d happily pay for it.” You raised an eyebrow before a devious smirk crossed your lips.

“Get a lover?” His eyes blazed while he mirrored your position, the swivel chair beneath him groaning with his mass as he leaned forwards, planting his massive palms onto the table.

“I’d like to see you try.” Against your will, heat raced through your body, setting your nerves alight with the thrum of arousal.  Simon’s mask shifted and you imagined that he was smirking at you. 

You tamped down the feeling of wetness between your soft thighs, forcing yourself to remember exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. “You’re a lot different than I was expecting.”

He huffed. “So are you. Thought I was getting stuck with some bratty trust fund baby who’s never even set foot in a thrift store.”

“I thought you were gonna be a crusty old man who wanted me to put out so he could feel better about his broken dick and receding hairline.” Silence settled between you before suddenly, you both broke into peels of laughter, an oppressive weight suddenly lifted from the room. 

You were relieved; Simon seemed at least like a decent human being if nothing else and it appeared that you could continue living your life, although without the occasional hook up here and there. But considering how handsome you presumed your almost husband to be, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I guess we both got lucky didn’t we?” You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Or just benefitting from the sheer incompetence of the people that thought this was a good idea.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“So, should we do this then?” You asked. Simon rose from his seat and offered you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. As he pulled you to your feet, he uttered:

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

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🥀🕊 dead dove: don't eat (this fic contains dark material - read at your own risk)

hiiii, it's @ariestrxsh (this is my backup account, and here is my contribution to kinktober 🖤 no taglist included on this account bc it would be really complicated)

🥀🕊 content warning: smut, prey/predator dynamic, primal kink, establishment of safeword, knifeplay, rough sex, degradation, daddy kink, roughdom!chris

🥀🕊 author's note: if the idea of being chased around in the forest at night and then being brutally fucked by chris sturniolo doesn't sound fun to you, don't read this!!! i don't ever want my writing to trigger, offend, or upset anyone, so please just skip this one if the material sounds unpleasant to you. this is just for those of us who have this little dark fantasy. 🖤

🥀🕊 summary: while housesitting for your boss, an unsuspecting visitor drops by, and the night takes a twist.

a forest

"I'll give you a two-minute headstart," he rasped into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You took off, sprinting into the vast forest that was lit up by the full moon. Your sneakers crushed twigs and dead leaves as you wandered deeper into the woods.

You stopped for a moment to take in the sound of your surroundings, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. So quiet you could hear your heart about to pound out of your chest, along with the sound of adrenaline pumping your blood through your veins.

The thick, grey clouds in the sky slowly moved into the way of the moon, obstructing the light it emmited momentarily. You were excited to be chased, but something about this situation still triggered a primal fear in you. You started to run again, trying not to lose your sense of direction along with all the other sensory deprivation you were experiencing.

Suddenly, your shoelace snagged on a branch that had fallen, launching you forward into the forest floor beneath you.

*flashback to several hours earlier*

Your car made its way down the winding dirt road as you navigated directions to your boss' house, the branches above creating a dense canopy above you while you meandered through the tunnel of trees.

She was a sweet lady who owned the dog grooming business you worked at, and she was offering you some extra money to house sit for her, feed her cats, and water her plants while she was away on vacation.

It was a nice way to make some extra cash, and a nice way for you to get away from your roommates for a little while and enjoy some peace and quiet in the little woodsy area she lived in. An even bigger plus, she told you to help yourself to any of the food in her fridge and pantry, so it wouldn't spoil or go stale in the time that she was gone.

You slammed on your brakes, nearly losing traction and kicking up dirt as a fawn leaped out of nowhere and into the path of your car and stopped a few feet in front of your headlights. Your heart raced, but you immediately let out a sigh of relief as it got away safely and trotted off in another direction.

You'd never been to your boss' place before, but it wasn't hard to find, considering it was the only house around, and the nearest neighbors were at least a couple of miles away. You located your destination, and as you slowly ascended the driveway and admired the wooden structure, the full clouds above you started to release a light drizzle of rain.

It was a big, gorgeous, and charming home. You could tell a lot of work and money had gone into it, and you were even more excited to see the inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepped out into the rain, and found the creepy owl statue, which the house key was hidden under. You put the key in the lock, turned it until you heard the click, and let yourself in.

It had a very rustic vibe, which really fit your boss, and you were so lost in the decor and the architecture that you were startled when a sweet, long-haired, black cat appeared at your feet and started rubbing up against your bare leg. She placed her two front paws on your black Converse shoe and peered up at you. "Hi, sweetie," you whispered, squatting down to let her smell you.

After she sniffed you for a few seconds, she drove her sweet face into your hand, and you scratched her under the chin. She started walking off in the other direction, looking back at you as if she wanted you to follow her.

You walked through the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room where two empty food bowls sat on the ground next to the fridge. "Awh, are you hungry?" You asked the cat as if she could respond to you, and you emptied a bit of dry food into both of the bowls, and as the sound of kibble ricocheting off the metal containers filled the room, another cat came bounding into view.

He was a short-haired brown tabby with white paws and a bit of white at the tip of his tail, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at you and ran the other direction to find something to hide under. "Can't win them all over, huh?" You said, peering down at the black cat as she gobbled up her food. She glanced back up at you and let out a soft meow as if she understood and went back to snacking.

You slowly walked through the rest of the house, acquainting yourself with the layout. You found your way to the guest room, which was right where you were told it was. Two doors down on the left after you walked through the second hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms.

You set your bag down on the bed you'd be sleeping in tonight and backtracked to the kitchen to check out the drink and snack selection. You found a bottle of bourbon stored in the pantry that looked pretty fancy. You were of age, and your boss did say you could have any food or beverages she had, so you poured yourself a glass of bourbon over ice after you'd found her stash of whiskey glasses.

You grabbed some garlic stuffed olives from the fridge along with some aged cheddar and crackers you found, and you made your way to the living room to check out the entertainment. While you were flipping through apps on the television, you noticed some pictures above the fireplace.

Your boss had mentioned she had a son your age, but you'd never seen him until your gaze landed on his senior photo. "Holy shit," you whispered, admiring his beautiful smile and his lovely, blue eyes. Why hadn't your boss told you her son was so hot?

You popped an olive into your mouth and washed it down with a small sip of bourbon as you studied the picture collection she had on the mantel above the fireplace. Your eyes were immediately drawn to all the pictures of her son, and you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander while you looked at his photos. You'd never seen a man so attractive before.

You picked up a photograph of him in which he was shirtless and carried it back over to the couch with you. After looking at his picture a bit longer and taking a few more sips of your alcoholic drink, you turned your attention back to the television.

The sun had set by now, and you'd settled on watching Jennifer's Body. You'd seen it a dozen times before, but it was the only movie that sparked your interest after looking through several films on several different streaming services. Plus, you thought the movie was fitting, given it was October.

You were drinking your second glass of bourbon while you snacked on cheese and crackers when the scene came on where Jennifer and Needy make out. You were so lost in the steamy kiss that you had no idea anyone was in the room with you.

"Whatcha watching?" A voice came out of nowhere. You snapped your neck around, nearly dropping your drink, paused the movie, and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" before you could take in any of the boy's features. "I'm Chris. Who the fuck are you?" He returned the question, snorting at you.

"Sorry, you must be my boss' son," you quickly apologized, realizing he was the same man in the pictures. He was even more attractive in person. You stood up, wiping your crumby hands off on your striped shirt and your cut-off jean shorts.

You introduced yourself and extended your hand to shake his, but his gorgeous blue eyes flicked to the photo you had of him on the coffee table in front of you. "Like that picture of me?" He flashed you his million-dollar smile.

You ignored his question that felt like more of an accusation. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I was told I'd be staying here all alone," you responded, still caught off guard by his presence. "Well, I didn't know anyone would be here either. My mom told me someone was watching the cats, but I didn't know that meant you'd be here full time," Chris said, still caught off guard by your presence.

"Well, your mom told me I could sleep here and eat what you guys had in the fridge. I'm not doing anything weird," you replied. "Sure, you're not," Chris smirked, his gaze flicking back up at the frozen frame on the television of the girl-on-girl kiss scene you were watching. "It's not weird at all to watch porn on your boss' couch while you have a picture of her son next to you."

"Oh, my god, I'm not watching porn. This is just some horror movie on Hulu," you turned bright red, reaching for the remote and shutting off the film. "Well, either way, I won't tell my mom you're drinking her bourbon and watching softcore lesbian porn in her living room as long as you don't tell my mom I stop by here sometimes when she's out of town. I have a long weekend, and I just wanted to get away from my dormmates and come spend some time alone here," Chris told you.

"It's not porn.. whatever," you shook your head, giving up trying to defend yourself. "Your secret is safe with me," you said, taking in all his aesthetically pleasing features. "You don't mind if I hang out and stay the night here, do you? I just drove like two and a half hours, and I'm pretty tired," he bit his lip at you, and you nearly melted.

"No, I don't mind. After all, it is your house." Chris plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. "You smoke?" He asked, looking up at you. "Yeah," you responded, sitting back down on the couch beside him.

"Smoke this joint with me on the deck?" He offered, while he packed the paper full of ground weed. "Sure," you accepted. He looked into your eyes while he licked and sealed the joint. "Follow me," he muttered as he stood up and started to make his way to the back door that led out to the wooden deck that wrapped around the back-half of the house.

The rain had let up by now, but the scent still lingered in the air. The two of your found yourselves leaning over the railing, staring up at the full moon and the few stars that were visible between the clouds while you passed the lit joint back and forth.

"Guess I should have asked this before I invited you to smoke with me, but how old are you?" He wondered. "Twenty-one. How about you?" You asked, giving him the joint back after blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Same. You like working for my mom?" He wondered, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, actually. You know, everyone really respects her because she's a little bit of a hard ass, but she's really understanding. She doesn't treat us like cogs in her machine like some of my former employers. She treats us like we're actually human," you shrugged. "That's been my experience with her, too. She's a no-bullshit type of woman. Kind of hard on you when you need it. But a really caring and genuine person," Chris told you, taking another hit.

"What are you studying in school?" You asked him. "I've changed my major like a dozen times because I can't focus on any one thing, but right now, I'm leaning towards something in finance," he replied.

"I like the taste of these rolling papers," you told him. "Yeah? They're vanilla," he responded. "That's the best flavor. Except when it comes to sex," you mumbled under your breath and giggled. "Oh, yeah?" Chris raised his eyebrows and glanced at you, smiling and shocked to hear you say such a thing. "How freaky are you?" He asked, taking another puff off the joint.

"Well, freaky is subjective," you started off. "And that's how I know you're a freak," Chris glared in your direction, still smiling. "If you'd given me a definitive no, when then, that answers that question. If you'd given me a definitive yes, that could have meant that your definition of freaky is like getting your hair pulled while you're in doggy or something," he replied, passing you back the doobie. "Well, I do like that," you chuckled. "Yeah, but what other freaky shit are you into?" Chris' curiosity had been sparked.

"I'm not telling you. I just met you," You widened your eyes at Chris and shot him an embarrassed smile. "You're the one that brought it up. I'll tell you what I'm into if you tell me what you're into," Chris promised, dying to hear you confess all your naughty fantasies to him. You rolled your eyes at him while you heavily blushed.

"Okay, fine. I really like being tied up, spit on, choked, slapped around, having my hair pulled.." You started to say, but your voice trailed off. "What else, pretty girl? I can tell you're holding back with me," Chris lowered his gaze to your lips. "Well, you might judge me," you said, taking a puff of the joint and returning it to Chris. "I don't kink-shame," Chris chuckled in a low voice.

"Okay, well I like being degraded, humiliated, talked down to, that kind of thing," you responded, nibbling on your lip and looking for Chris' reaction. "Keep going," he encouraged you, intrigued to hear what else you were going to say. "I kind of get turned on by things that would scare the average person. Like knives, blood, and like being chased. Stuff like that," you admitted, gazing down at the ground, afraid of what he'd think of you.

"Such a little whore," he said in a seductive tone. Your heart raced, and you peered up at him. "What a coincidence, because I like degrading and humiliating girls like you, and I love to hunt my prey before I fuck it," Chris curled his lips into a menacing smile while his dark eyes piercing through you. He put out the joint and clenched his jaw at you waiting for you to say something, but the words were caught in your throat.

"I mean, I'm making assumptions here, but I think you're into me, and I think you want me to chase you," Chris sneered at you, tilting your chin up at him. You hesitantly nodded your head. "You can be my little fawn, and I'll be the hungry coyote," Chris cooed, running his thumb along your bottom lip that was pink with arousal. You nodded again. He took a few steps closer to you until you could feel the warmth coming off his body.

"Just remember. I know this forest better than you do, princess," his words triggered the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. "In honor of Halloween, your safeword is Beetlejuice."

You weren't sure how long you'd been running for. It could have been forty-five seconds, or it could have been ten minutes. You felt disoriented, your perception seemingly disconnected from reality as time seemed to fold in on itself. The smell of wet dirt filled your senses as you got a face full of it. You placed both of your hands on the soil and grass beneath you to prop yourself back up onto your feet, but your shoelace was still stuck.

Instead, you scooted yourself down towards your feet, frantically reaching around for the branch you were caught on. After fiddling around with it for a few seconds, you whispered to yourself, "Shit." You ultimately decided to pull your shoelace untied, and tried to knot it back up quickly before getting to your feet and bounding further into the woods.

You weren't sure if you were even running the right way or if you were tracing your footsteps back from where you just came. That's when you heard his footsteps, dead autumn leaves crushing under his weight, and you whipped around in the direction you heard the crunch.

You hoped it was the attractive boy you just met, stealthily setting his sights on you through the trees where he could see you but you couldn't see him, rather than an actual coyote, but you expected him to chase you and tackle you right away. Instead, he was behaving like a four-legged wild animal - stalking you. Hunting you.

You heard a few more brittle leaves and twigs crack as he slowly stepped closer to you. You took off, sprinting as fast as you could, still a bit unsure about what was chasing you. He was hot on your heels, and you made it only a few more feet before he lunged forward, grappling you to the forest floor.

You fell on your stomach, and the pressure knocked the air out of you. You were almost relieved when you felt human hands tearing at your clothes, and you heard Chris whisper, rasping in your ear from behind you, "Gotcha!" He ripped your shirt off of your torso in a swift motion, and you gasped as you tried to get away from him, but his hands were strong, and he had all his body weight on you, his erection stabbing you in the backside as you squirmed, digging your nails into the soil beneath you.

You grew increasingly wet as you heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and his zipper. Then he tugged your shorts down and took them off you. He didn't waste his time, pulling your panties to the side and lining his length up with your entrance.

He roughly pushed into you, causing you to sharply inhale and whimper as he started moving his hips back and forth, stretching you out. You'd been caught and defeated, but you loved every second of the way Chris took you. You began arching your back and leaning back into the boy while he fucked you senseless.

You could hear his deep, animalistic grunts in your ear and you could feel his hot, shallow breath on the back of your neck. You couldn't conceal how much you loved it. You threw your head back and let out a few loud, satisfied sounds.

Your hands and your knees dug into the soft ground beneath you while you graciously took Chris' rod. He pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass echoed throughout the forest and reverberated through your body. Chris placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed the side of your face into the dirt while he began to fuck you harder.

"You fucking love it, don't you? Such a worthless little cunt," Chris grunted breathlessly. You responded by rolling your eyes back into your head and moaning at his words. "I'm gonna flip you around, slut, and if you try to run away from me, it's not gonna go well for you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

As soon as he pulled himself out of you and went to grab you and turn you onto your back, you jumped up and took off running in nothing but your thong and your sneakers. You couldn't wait to see what he had in mind.

"Bitch!" Chris growled as he pulled up his pants and started chasing after you again. You didn't get far before he tackled you to the ground again and flipped you onto your back. "What did I fucking tell you? Defiant little brat. You're gonna be sorry you ran from me," Chris chuckled under his breath as he nudged your legs open and pinned both your wrists above your head with one of his strong, veiny hands.

You watched Chris pull something out of his pocket, and you noticed the way the moonlight bounced off of it and made it glimmer. It was something long and metal. As well as sharp, you noted as Chris started teasing you with it. He took the blade and started running it along the center of your rib cage.

He brought the knife up to your chest and started grazing the curve of your breasts. Your breath quickened. You shuddered at the feeling of the cool metal as he subtly grazed your nipples with it. He did this over and over until adrenaline was flowing through you. You were both worried and excited that he may actually draw blood.

He dragged the cold, sharp edge down your stomach and replaced the tantalizing feeling of the blade against the sensitive buds on your chest with his soft, pouty lips. He engulfed each nipple, swirling his tongue around and eliciting sweet whines from you while the knife grazed the insides of your thighs. You felt it rest up against your vulva through your panties, and suddenly, Chris took the switchblade, hooked it into the strap of your underwear, and sliced them off of you.

You gasped and squirmed beneath him, fear and excitement flooding your system. The forest was so eerily quiet besides the sounds of your desperate mewls that Chris could hear your heartbeat. "Do you trust me?" Chris whispered in a creepy voice as he took the switchblade and held it up to your neck, nestling his cock back into your sweet, wet pussy.

You barely knew him, but you had to trust him. After all, he was weilding a weapon and holding it about an inch away from your carotid artery and one subtle move, purposeful or accidental, could end your life or at the very least, put you in critical condition. "Yes," you managed to choke out.

"Your pussy is all mine. You're nothing more than my little cock sleeve. Isn't that right?" Chris degraded you while he thrusted into you, still holding your wrists down overhead. It turned you on even more that you were letting a stranger fuck you, and not just any stranger - your boss' son.

"Fuck, you take daddy's cock so well," he chuckled, causing you to smile and letting your eyes roll back into your head once more. You hadn't even told Chris about your daddy kink, but it's like he could smell it on you. "Yes, daddy," you whined as he pounded deep into you, hitting the spot with every stroke. He knew just what to say and do and how to fuck you just right.

Chris loved the way your cunt swallowed his length perfectly and how warm and wet you were as he did what he pleased. He loved the way you were getting off on your own fear and adrenaline. He could feel you losing control, your body convulsing beneath him and your tight hole rhythmically clenching around him. Waves of euphoria traveled through your veins, filling every one of your senses with pleasure.

"You're so pathetic and needy to cum, aren't you?" Chris cooed in a condescending tone. "Yes, daddy," you whimpered. "I don't know if you deserve to. You've been such a naughty girl," he shot back. "Please, daddy," you whined, squirming around. He relished in the way you begged over and over, flirting with the idea of letting you cum with every desperate plea that escaped your lips.

"Beg harder for it, slut," Chris replied in a deep voice. "Daddy, please, I need it," you cried out. He delivered a few more hard thrusts before he gave in to your whining. "Okay, fine. Cum on my daddy's cock, slut," Chris huffed, pressing the knife to your neck with just a bit more pressure.

All you needed were those magic words, and you reached the point of no return. Your orgasm swept you under like a strong current you couldn't stop, carrying you in its flow, and you surrendered to the feeling. It ripped through you mercilessly, leaving you in a pool of your own drool and cum. You spasmed around Chris' cock while you finished onto him.

The way your body reacted tipped Chris over the edge as well, sending him through the same euphoric sensations. He loudly moaned, slammed his eyes shut, and slacked his jaw before he pulled out and finished all over your stomach. He admired the way the moonlight caught his load and made it glitter against your flesh. "Fuck, I needed that," Chris breathlessly mumbled, squeezing out every last drop.

He switched the blade shut, put it back into his pocket, and pulled up his pants while the two of you caught your breath. Your legs were numb, and you couldn't think straight, recovering from the thrilling experience. You laid still for a few moments, your gaze fixed on the stars that were scattered overheard and barely visible through the storm clouds.

Chris grabbed you, slung your naked and mud-covered body over his shoulder, and then climbed to his feet to carry you back to the house. "Don't worry. I know exactly where we are. I'm gonna get you back safe."

[yourmomsawh0r3]

don’t let me go

pairing: tyler owen’s x f! reader

language: B/N - brothers name

L/N- last name

summary: Tyler has always protected Y/N, his best friend's little sister, from childhood scrapes to unwanted advances, but during a house party, their long-held feelings finally surface as they share a tender moment.

p.s: i’m thinking about making this into a series lmk your thoughtsss

The L/N’s house was like a second home for tyler . y/n’s brother, B/N, and Tyler had been inseparable since they were little, and Tyler was always around, whether it was for dinners, holidays, or random game nights. Tyler was practically a brother to her or at least, that’s what she convinced herself. The way her heart fluttered every time he threw a teasing grin her way told a different story, but it was the kind of secret she buried deep. B/N would never let it happen. He was too protective, always watching out for her like a hawk.

Tyler had been a fixture in Y/N’s life for as long as she could remember. He was B/N’s best friend, the boy who practically lived at their house. When they were kids, B/N always tried to keep her out of their games, insisting she was “too young” or “just a girl.” But Tyler never saw it that way.

“I want to play too!” Y/N would say, running out into the backyard where the boys would be setting up for a game of baseball or catch.

B/N would roll his eyes. “No, Y/N. This is for us. You wouldn’t even know what to do.”

But Tyler? He’d always smile at her, his brown eyes full of mischief, and toss her the ball. “Don’t listen to him. Come on, we’ll make our own team.”

Y/N beamed as she caught the ball, and Jake would groan in defeat, knowing Tyler wasn’t going to budge. No matter how many times B/N tried to push her out of their games or call her a nuisance, Tyler would let her join in, telling her to ignore her brother’s grumbling.

She’d follow Tyler and B/N everywhere, whether they were riding bikes down the street or building forts in the woods behind the house. Every time she got a scrape or bruise from keeping up with their reckless adventures, Tyler was always the one who took care of her.

One summer, they had all been climbing the big oak tree at the edge of the property. Y/N had insisted on going as high as the boys, even though B/N warned her not to. But halfway up, she slipped, scraping her knee against the rough bark as she slid down a few feet.

“Ow!” she cried, clutching her knee.

B/N glanced at her briefly before turning back to the tree. “I told you not to climb that high. You’re fine.”

But Tyler was already climbing down after her. “Let me see,” he said, crouching beside her once he was back on the ground.

“I’m okay,” she said, trying to be brave, though tears welled up in her eyes.

Tyler wasn’t having it. He pulled out a bandana from his pocket and gently wiped away the dirt and blood. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt,” he said softly, his touch careful as he cleaned her scrape. “But you’ll be alright. It’s not too bad.”

Y/N sniffled, watching as Tyler tied the bandana around her knee like a makeshift bandage. “There. Good as new,” he said with a smile, ruffling her hair.

From then on, every time she got hurt, Tyler was the one she went to. Jake would shrug it off, saying it was part of playing rough, but Tyler never hesitated to clean her cuts or sit with her until she felt better. It became their thing, even when they got older. Tyler was the one who made sure she was okay, whether it was a scraped knee or a bruised heart.

And as the years passed, things changed. Y/N grew up, no longer the little girl tagging along with her brother and his best friend. But Tyler? He never stopped looking out for her. Even when B/N kept trying to treat her like his annoying little sister, Tyler always made her feel like she belonged.

Tonight, like most nights, the house was buzzing. Their parents were out of town, so naturally, B/N had thrown a party. The living room was full of their friends, music thumping, drinks in hand. Y/N had managed to escape the chaos, slipping into the kitchen to refill her drink, when she felt the telltale signs of trouble approaching. Some guy she barely knew his name had been eyeing her all night, and now he was cornering her.

“Come on, Y/N, one dance won’t hurt,” he slurred, leaning in too close for comfort.

“I’m good, really,” she said, trying to keep her tone light but firm. She edged away, but he followed.

Before she could make another move, Tyler appeared beside her like he’d been summoned. “She said no, man. Back off.”

The guy sneered. “What are you, her babysitter?”

“Something like that,” Tyler replied, his voice low, muscles tensing.

Things escalated quickly. The guy grabbed for Y/N’s arm, and in the next instant, Tyler’s fist connected with his jaw. The crack echoed over the music, and chaos erupted. B/N, drunk and stumbling, managed to pull Tyler off the guy before things got worse, yelling at everyone to get out.

Soon, the house was empty except for Jake, who’d crashed upstairs, and Y/N, now hovering over Tyler as he sat on the kitchen counter, nursing a split lip and bruised knuckles.

“You didn’t have to punch him,” Y/N murmured, dabbing a wet cloth on his lip.

Tyler winced but didn’t pull away. “He wasn’t taking no for an answer. I wasn’t about to let that slide.”

Y/N’s gaze softened as she continued cleaning his wounds. Tyler was always overprotective, always stepping in when she needed him, but tonight felt different. There was something in the way he looked at her now, his eyes tracing her features as she worked.

When she finished, she threw the cloth in the sink, only to turn back and find Tyler watching her. His hand reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You looked beautiful tonight,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, maybe from the fight, maybe from something else.

Her heart skipped. She was used to their banter, the back-and-forth teasing that everyone assumed was sibling-like, but this? This was something new.

“Oh yeah?” she replied, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You sure you’re not concussed?”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “No concussion. Just saying what I’ve always thought.”

Her breath caught, but she kept up the act, leaning in slightly as she raised a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Tyler Owens.”

His eyes darkened, a glint of mischief flashing in them. “And if I was?”

Y/N’s pulse raced. She leaned back, crossing her arms with mock seriousness. “Well, I’d say you’ve got terrible timing. My brother’s upstairs, and he’d kill us both if he knew what you were thinking right now.”

Tyler shrugged, a slow grin spreading across his face. “B/N’s drunk and passed out. I think we’re safe… for now.”

They stood there, the space between them thick with unspoken words. For once, neither of them bantered to fill the silence. Instead, Tyler’s fingers brushed her cheek again, lingering just long enough to make her cheeks flush.

“Maybe one day,” he murmured, his voice low, “we won’t have to worry about your brother.”

“Maybe,” Y/N whispered back, her heart still racing.

Now, sitting in the kitchen after the fight at the party, Y/N couldn’t help but think back to all those times Tyler had been the one to take care of her. Cleaning his wounds was almost like a role reversal, but in a way, it felt familiar like they’d come full circle.

As she dabbed at his knuckles with a wet cloth, she smiled to herself, remembering how patient he had always been, how he never treated her like she didn’t belong.

Tyler noticed her smile and raised a brow. “What’s that look for?”

She glanced up, her eyes soft. “Just thinking how you’ve always been the one to patch me up, and now it’s my turn.”

Tyler smirked, his gaze locking onto hers. “I guess it is, huh? Seems like we’ve been taking care of each other forever.”

Y/N’s chest warmed at his words, the familiar banter between them giving way to something more serious. “You’ve always been good to me, Tyler,” she said softly, her hands still gently cleaning his knuckles. “Even when B/N wasn’t.”

“B/N’s just… B/N” Tyler replied with a chuckle. “He’s always been protective of you, but he doesn’t get to decide who you hang out with or what you do. You’ve always held your own.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as she gave him a playful look. “And yet, here you are, still playing the big protector.”

“Old habits die hard,” Tyler said with a grin, but his voice was softer this time, his hand reaching up to brush that same loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Her breath hitched again, her heart skipping at the tenderness in his touch. “You didn’t need to punch that guy, you know.”

Tyler’s expression hardened slightly. “No, I did. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, and no way was I going to let him treat you like that.”

Y/N looked down, feeling the weight of his words. “Thanks for always having my back.”

His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment before he pulled it away, but not before he whispered, “I’ll always have your back, Y/N. Always.”

The moment hung in the air between them, and for the first time in years, Y/N realized just how much she meant to him, how much he had always cared, even if it had always been under the guise of “just looking out for B/N’s little sister.”

But tonight? Tonight, that pretense was falling away, and maybe, just maybe, they were both ready for something more.

NEXT CHAPTER

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[daceydeath]

Her Knight

Pairing: Knight San x Princess Reader Word Count: 6.3k Genre: Fantasy AU, Romance, Smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit Activities

Another ball to attend another prince to meet but your Knight in shining armor is always there to save you.

Another god forsaken ball, with more god forsaken suitors that were either inbred or as exciting as drapery but your father insisted that you find a suitable match before your next name day celebration so that you would have time to plan an appropriate wedding for that of a future queen. Your only semblance of comfort was that this would be the last ball of the season and if no match was found you would be free for at least the winter months before the next ball season began so that you could spend another season mustering the courage to tell your father that you didn't want to marry a prince your heart belonged to someone else. Marriage to a man you barely knew was the last thing you wanted you had barely even seen your twentieth winter and you still had so much you wanted to do before your freedom was taken from you by an man, who would most likely spend his time demanding you remain demure and dull so that he could live out his fantasy of being a king to a mighty kingdom, regardless of the fact it would be your queendom not his. So you once again were being strapped into a corset so tight you would only be able to drink and not eat and a gown so heavy it would surely leave bruises on your hips from the weight.

Standing before the ornate mirror in your chambers your ladies in waiting scampered around collecting under skirts, ribbons, jewels and shoes to make the dressing process easier for you but all it ended up doing was giving you a headache as they argued whether the diamonds, pearls, gold looked better with your attire. As the princess royal you were expected to be dressed to a level of opulence that few could match dresses of the finest silks and velvets, covered in jewels and gold threads were common place for you and so the aristocrats and minor royals followed your lead having clothes tailored in whatever shades you wore.  Normally you stuck to a pastel gowns that were covered in lightweight sheer layers that, while looking beautiful, allowed you to move a little more freely, tonight you had picked a black gown that was heavily embellished with gold, your corset whilst covered in not just gold but also pearls and small semi precious stones. It was excessive in every way and that was exactly what you wanted, two younger sons of the neighboring kingdom were set to be in attendance and you wanted very much to drive them away with your wasteful appearance so they would see being matched to you more of a burden than an asset.

"your highness?" Your handmaid interrupted your daydreaming to help you begin dressing "If you would be so kind as to hold the bed frame we can begin your lacings" she smiled meekly, being careful to speak respectfully.

"Of course Bessy" you smiled not caring if your ladies in waiting were listening, your handmaids were your friends and you wouldn't treat them poorly just because of their station in life. Moving to grasp the wood tightly Bessy and her assistance Clara pulled each lace viciously, knocking the air from your lungs each time until finally Bessy placed her knee against your back for one last tug to ensure you were properly cinched in, leaving you breathing as heavily as you could.

Your ladies in waiting sat you down to begin fussing with your hair and makeup, you could always style yourself but you found it easier to just sit and be preened within an inch of your life.

"Princess, I must tell you what I heard about Prince Heeseung!" Lady Lisbeth whispered excitedly pinning your hair up into an elegant updo "I heard he has rejected three other kingdoms invites to meet you tonight and that he has high hopes of securing your hand over his brother".  

"I heard that his brother Prince Sunghoon has already found a paramour but is keeping her hidden so he is only playing the part of the competitive brother" Lady Hari interjected quickly before lowering her voice so that only you could hear her as she powdered your skin "But that would give you freedom if you allowed him to bring her with him".

"I wouldn't count on a match being made tonight though" Lady Sana smiled at you in the mirror giving you a sly wink "The knights of the realm have returned from your fathers conquest today so tonight will probably turn rowdy quite quickly with war stories and drunken antics".

"Anything to get me a few more months you couldn't help but mumble as Lady Sana moved to latch the Queen's Jewel around your throat, a large oval solitaire diamond that showed your rank and lineage, it hung heavily just below you collarbones shining brilliantly in the flickering light.

"Did they all return?" you asked almost indifferently hoping to look more concerned with their wellbeing for the kingdom's sake and not your own.

"Not all returned princess, but most have arrived back safely and triumphantly" Lady Hari answered, looking at you pleased with your appearance.

"Father must be very pleased then, I will make sure to congratulate both father and his loyal knights during the festivities then" you smiled with faux enthusiasm knowing that at least while congratulating the returned knights you would be free from your suitors advances, provided they were interested.

You bid you ladies farewell for the time being and waited until it was just you and your maids remaining within hearing range making sure your quarters were completely empty.

"Bessy how many did we lose?" you inquired trying to keep your voice even despite how nervous you were "and do you know who made it back safely?".

"Only two fell and five more were injured but made it back" Bessy smiled leaning in closer to you just to be safe from any prying ears "your favorite knights are all well though Ser San is expected to be rewarded for his bravery in rescuing Ser Yunho and Ser Mingi from enemy forces".

"Excellent, that's excellent" you breathed a sigh of relief "I have not got many friends Bessy, just you and the few maids that are purely my own and the knights who have to guard me. I don't want to lose any of you".

"You won't lose us your highness we will be with you until you decide otherwise" Bessy grinned, her and Clara, preparing your gown to finally be placed over all of your underskirts to complete your outfit and prepare you to go to the ballroom to greet your fathers guests.

Taking a final sip of wine you brushed the velvet of your skirt down one last time before opening the door to your quarters to find the guard who would take you to the ballroom. You prepared yourself for another night of dodging advances and hopefully leaving bad impressions on men who would marry you for a power play.  Sansa and Hari stood at the top of the grand staircase waiting for you to make your entry. The minstrels were quietened and the beginning of your title announced  before you stepped into view of the crowd of onlooking guests.

"May we present the Princess Royal, First of her Family and Heir to the Crown of Eastwood" he called loudly into the cavernous room as you felt all eyes fall on you and your attire. When you made the first landing the minstrels began to play and the buzz of the guests continuing their conversations filled the room once more leaving you free to make your way to your father and hopefully to begin the round of slow congratulations of his returned knights, who all looked resplendently dashing in their black and red military uniforms.

"My sweetest daughter" your father called to you clapping his hands loudly as you made your way through the crowd.

"Your only daughter father" you teased back grinning as he stretched his arms out to take your hands.

"You look particularly beautiful tonight my child" he smiled toothily before pulling you gently towards him to kiss your cheek.

"I heard your brave knights have returned, father and triumphantly at that" you beamed "you must be so pleased with their success I must congratulate them for honoring you".

"They did, and you should, they will be your knights one day and you should treat them with the respect their loyalty deserves." he nodded seriously as you tried your hardest to appear that you were focusing on his words with absolute concentration "You will make a fine ruler one day child, but first you must meet the Princes from Northwilds they have traveled far to attend this evening". You dutifully smiled and nodded letting your father escort you towards a group of men in deep blue and gold ensembles which you assumed to be military style uniforms from the Nothwilds kingdom. All ten of them bowed deeply when they noticed your father's and your presence.

"King Arin, we thank you for this generous invitation Eastwood is a most beautiful kingdom" A tall rather handsome man stepped forward taking your father's hand and bowing again to place his forehead against your father's ring which contained the royal seal.

"Prince Heeseung, I am most delighted you could make the trip, I realize that Northwilds is quite a journey from us. This is my daughter the Princess Royal" he introduced you, letting you curtsy despite you being of higher rank than either of the princes.

"We are most blessed to make your acquaintance" Prince Heeseung bowed, stretching out his hand to take yours and kiss the back of it softly. "This is my brother Prince Sunghoon" he gestured behind himself for his brother to step forward and greet your father and then yourself, also pressing a kiss to the back of your hand although so featherlight you almost didn't feel it.

"The pleasure is mine Prince Heeseung, Prince Sunghoon" you smiled demurely trying to remain as neutral as possible so you didn't garner too much interest from them.

"I will leave you to mingle, child, but you should remember to thank the knights before the evening is over" your father winked no doubt, noticing your not particularly keen interaction with the brothers.

"Of course father, I won't neglect my duties to the kingdom" you bowed your head as he stepped away no doubt looking for a drink. Sana made her way to your side instantly replacing your fathers place at your side, taking your hand she squeezed it once to let you know it was he as you continued to smile at the princes.

"Princess, you look exquisite tonight" Heeseung complimented softly as his brother stepped back to engage back into the conversation he was having with his entourage.

"You look quite dashing yourself Prince Heeseung" you smiled tightly not enjoying the awkwardness of first meetings "Tell me what is the Northwilds like? I have yet to travel that far yet, father doesn't let me travel too far from the kingdom" you explained hoping that he would bring up anything about his kingdom that you could find interesting and prompt some sort of discourse.

"I have heard it can snow there for months at a time, is that true?" Sana asked, hoping to help further the conversation.

"Please call me Heeseung, I am of lesser rank than you Princess" he smiled hopefully at you "Northwilds can be bitterly cold in winter. It is true it snows nearly all of winter but it is quite pleasant in the summer and early autumn. We have quite a few lakes and forests which makes for pleasant day trips"  he continued.

"Oh I do like spending time near the water" Sana gushed beaming at him "Don't you your Highness?".

"Yes I do enjoy picnics by the waterfront and also horseback riding. Do you have good horses in Northwilds? I imagine they would be hardy creatures" you answered politely, noticing that Heeseung's eyes were firmly locked on Sana as she batted her eyelashes and giggled softly.

"Our horses are the most sturdy of all the kingdoms" Heeseung nodded, obviously enjoying the attention Sana was giving him.

"I should attend the greeting of our returned knights, Lady Sana, would you keep Prince Heeseung entertained until I return? and ensure both he and his brother are comfortable" you touched her shoulder gently in a gesture of thanks.

"Of course Princess, it would be my greatest honor" she gushed enthusiastically letting you make your exit without any protest from either of the princes.

Wandering towards the outer edge of the room you were sure you would find at least one knight trying to avoid an over eager dowager who wanted to thank him more than was warranted or wanted. Sure enough you found Ser Seonghwa desperately looking for a pillar to hide behind as an aristocrat made her way across the crowd towards him.

"Ser Seonghwa" You called, stepping into his line of vision and watching him visibly relax knowing you would give him an excuse to not speak to the older woman, who now looked quite put out that you had stolen the object of her desire.  

"Princess Royal" he greeted bowing deeply to you.

"I had heard you had returned today and victorious" you grinned "I was hoping I could thank you all for honoring my father so valiantly".

"It is our honor honestly Princess" he smiled again, his handsome face lighting up "May I escort you to some of the other knights, your highness?"

"Yes please Ser Seonghwa, I would love to thank you all personally for your efforts" you continued taking his arm and allowing him to guide you towards the back of the ballroom where the large windows and open gilt doors spilt light out into the gardens. "I also thought I might be able to save you for a little while, Seonghwa" you whispered once you got closer to your destination.

"I cannot thank you enough," Seonghwa grinned. "It will help boost the others that you would wish to spend some time with us lowly knights rather than the Princes from Northwilds".

"Believe me you lot are much preferred company" you smirked as he led you onto the lit terrace, large glass containers filled with candles surrounding the entire area to keep it as well lit as possible despite it not being twilight yet.

"Look who I found in my travels" Seonghwa called to a cluster of men dressed in identical uniforms, they didn't even need to turn around for you to know exactly who each of them was having spent enough time milling around the training grounds in hoping one of them would take pity on you and give you some sword fighting lessons or teach you archery, which they eventually did. You had become friends over those years and you began to treat each other as equals rather than what your ranks demanded, even if it had to occur mainly in secret.

"If it's another kitchen girl I would say don't bother, you always strike out with the kitchen staff" Ser Hongjoong yelled cheekily before his eyes landed on you walking at Seonghwa's side. "Princess Royal, what are you doing out here?" they all instantly stood at attention facing you.

"At ease I'm alone" you laughed watching them all relax again "I wanted to see how you were I didn't know you were back until a few hours ago".

"We're mostly intact" Hongjoong admitted softly as you let go of your hold on Seonghwa's arm to touch Hongjoong's shoulder affectionately.

"What does mostly intact mean? I wanted you to come back whole" you pouted taking in each of their appearances "Yunho, Mingi you're hurt" you couldn’t help the way your voice raised an octave as you moved to look at them closer your large black gown swishing against all of their legs as you passed them. Your hands fluttering uselessly over Yunho's bandaged hand and arm which bulged under his dress coat and Mingi with obvious bruising to his face.

"War doesn't leave you intact Princess" Jongho sighed, his eyes meeting yours sadly.

"Sana told me that some of you fell. Who? Who did we lose?" you asked carefully knowing that such a tight knit group would be sensitive to the loss of a friend and comrade.

"Changbin and Seungmin are gone, Felix and Minho are pretty badly injured. Chan and a few of the others are staying with them around the clock in case the worse happens they can send for help faster" Wooyoung grimaced.

"Fuck" you breathed shakily lamenting the loss of good men “I’m so sorry”.

"Did you just say fuck?" Seonghwa blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Yes? I swear all the time when you teach me how to fight, have you only just noticed?" you enquired confused.

"You say crap, quim womble and bollocks, once I heard you say shit but never fuck" Hongjoong roared laughing while Yeosang, San and Mingi all smirked.

"Well now you have heard me say fuck congratulations" you rolled your eyes quickly looking around San's broad shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear your profanity.

"It's just soldiers out here Princess" San smiled warmly looking down at you, you almost lost yourself in them but remembered yourself and decided to look at his dimple instead.

"Can't be too careful, I saved Seonghwa from a dowager but right now you are saving me from Prince Heeseung" you joked, nudging his chest with your shoulder.

“There is no way we can hide you though not in that dress at least" Mingi teased looking you up and down exaggeratedly.

"It is true you outshine every other woman here" Jongho whistled "must be looking to impress a prince tonight".

"More like hoping to horrify one" you smirked, poking your tongue out at him "I hope they will see me as frivolous and vapid so they don't want to stay". You were happy to admit your plan to them you knew they would never tell a soul.

“Why don’t you just tell your father you don’t want to marry?” Yunho shook his head clearly amused with your plan.

“Because unlike you Yunho I don’t get a lot of say in when I get married, father has decided it will be in the summer so I have that long to convince him to let me marry someone I actually like or he will pick for me”. You sighed trying to keep the sadness off of your face “I don’t really want to get stuck with some horrible man who just wants my throne”.

“Why haven’t you picked any of the others who have come then? Some of them were really quite nice or were they just not quite like the tales of knights who slay dragons from your silly books?” Wooyoung pressed as your cheeks began to flush pink at the implication of his question.

“You are never going to understand Wooyoung” you rolled your eyes before quickly putting more space between yourself and them as the sounds of Sana’s voice floated across the terrace. “Again brave knights I cannot express my gratitude for honoring my father” you smiled politely with your best formal voice back in place as they all tried not to snicker at your obvious change in demeanor.

“Princess Royal” Heeseung’s voice rang out loudly “I did wonder where you had gotten to, were you stolen away by these brutes?” he raised his eyebrow challengingly towards your friends and saviors.

“Of course not Prince Heeseung, these knights are my father’s best. They have just returned from their campaign. It is part of my duties to congratulate the brave men who honor my kingdom” your replied almost coldly, your eyes narrowing slightly at him.

“Still it is not proper that you be alone with men so far below your station” he continued, not really bothering to listen to your words making you frown.

“Your Highness, the prince may have had a little too much of your father’s favorite vintage” Sana stressed quickly, making you step back a fraction more from him “I thought some fresh air might help with that”.

“Perhaps it would” you smiled tightly, watching Sana carefully in case she needed help ridding herself from him “Where is prince Sunghoon?”.

“He has retired for the night, your Highness” Sana answered quickly, her voice quivering slightly.

“I see, I will accompany you then” you announced, making Prince Heesung grin at his perceived victory. “Ser San, Ser Jongho, would you join us please? There may be all sorts of wild beasts in the gardens at this time of night” you looked at them pleadingly.

“Of course your Royal Highness” San answered smoothly, bowing deeply as Jongho copied his actions, nodding.

“Thank you Sers I will feel much safer with you with us” you beamed noticing the twinkle of mischief in Jongho’s eyes and the laugh San was trying to hold in.

“I would be with you Princess Royal, you would need no further protection than that” Prince Heeseung started to protest, looking dissatisfied with your choice.

“I know Prince Heeseung but who would protect Lady Sana in the event of an attack surely you would be protecting me in that circumstance and Lady Sana is my closest confidant I would want her to be safe so why not bring a few more swords along” you explained flashing your best doe eyes at him.

“Of course you have thought this through far better than I have” he bowed in apology before San offered you his arm and Jongho took a torch from one of the wall sconces beside the very edge of he terrace to lead the way.

“Thank you Ser San” you graciously accepted, allowing him to lead you towards the cobblestone pathway that lay on the edge of the hedge maze. Prince Heeseung glowered as San but said nothing further as he fell into step behind you but you couldn’t help the silent giggle that passed your lips imagining him glaring at the wide expanse of San’s back as you walked. In the dimness that surrounded you now that dusk had properly fallen and the sun had long dropped behind the horizon you felt San’s fingers stroke small patterns into the back of your hand making butterflies dance in your belly. Prince Heeseung was muttering something to Sana that you couldn’t make out but when you turned your head to attempt to hear them better San squeezed your hand and met your eyes his endlessly deep brown eyes gesturing to Jongho in front of you before returning to your face as though he was studying you.

“Princess Royal” Jongho’s voice called back to you “Do you wish us to play another round of first to the middle? I know that it is one of your ladies in waiting’s favorite games to play when you have the time and it would be a good way to show Prince Heeseung the hedge maze” he asked in faux innocence making Sana agree enthusiastically and you nod.

“Oh yes please Ser Jongho, Sana and I both adore that game. Would you like to play Prince Heeseung? It is a very simple game but such fun” you turned to look at him excitedly “We all take turns entering the maze and the one that reaches the middle first wins a prize of their choosing”.

“Any prize they choose?” Heeseung asked with a sly smile on his face.

“Well obviously not anything I wouldn’t give you the kingdom or anything silly like that it is usually a token for example a piece of jewelry, a favor from me, a special dessert from the kitchens that sort of thing” you rationalized hoping that he would agree to play so that you could help Sana escape him for a little while.

“I would enjoy that,” he answered simply, looking between Sana and you. 

“The Princess Royal shall go first, then it will be your turn and then mine” Sana volunteered, hoping that as long as she took a different start path to him it would be fine.

“Shall we start? Ser San, would you stay here and guard the entrance while we play?” you enquired watching San nod in silent agreement before you picked up your skirts slightly so they didn’t catch on the branches and made your way into the maze, you took the first right then second left which you knew led to a dead end then you waited quietly it didn’t take long before your heard heavy footsteps that passed by on the other side of the thick green wall that led deeper into the maze. You waited for a few moments prepared to count to twenty before you attempted to make your way back to the entrance hoping that San would be waiting for you when you heard more footsteps.

“Princess?” San whispered quietly rounding the corner to the deadend that you were waiting in “He’s long gone shall we head back?” his breathtaking smile lighting up his whole face.

“Yes,why not?” you stepped towards him “I’m so glad you came home San” you admitted taking his hand in yours “I would have been devastated if you had been lost”.

“It would take more than one campaign to stop me coming home to you Princess” you flushed quickly back tracking his words “I mean to your kingdom Princess, there is no other kingdom I would rather serve”. He met your eyes shyly.

“San…” you breathed, noticing the pretty color that now dusted his cheekbones. You were almost standing so close to him that if someone was to come across you it would have surely looked improper but you didnt care you were far too lost in the depths of his eyes that swam with such emotion that you could not bring yourself to look away.

“Princess, I…” San stumbled his words as he unconsciously pulled you slightly closer to him, your chest almost pressed against his and his hand still grasping yours firmly in the few moments of silence that followed. “Why haven’t you agreed to any of the suitors your father has invited to the kingdom?”.

“I already have someone I wish to be with, but he doesn’t know” you confessed without a shred of fear as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards “He’s someone my father trusts very much and once this ball season has ended I wanted to talk to him about it”. San’s other hand moved to grip your waist making your eyes widen slightly.

“Would the King allow you to be with this man?” he asked quietly, his voice deeper than it had been before making you feel a little light headed.

“I desperately hope so” you swallowed hard his hand letting go of yours leaving it to feel cool without the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, very slowly he moved so that it was now creeping up your arm leaving goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers brushed against you.

“May I?” he murmured his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath fanning across your face, his hand finally stopping to cup your cheek.

“Please San” you mumbled closing your eyes the moment his lips brushed against yours tentatively pausing to allow you to stop him going further which gave you the opportunity to place your hand against his chest to feel his heart beating rapidly within his ribcage. You leaned in a little more, pressing your lips against his fully, finally feeling the warmth of his plush lips against yours, smiling against you he pulled you against his chest slowly sliding his lips against yours until you felt dizzy.

“I need to get you back to the castle my Princess” he breathed against you lips pecking them once more before stepping back from you the smirk on his face showing how pleased he was with your reciprocation of his actions.

“Yes, you should escort me back to my quarters” you agreed blinking a few times to shake the feeling that was lingering in your belly from his use of my princess. “I don’t want to return to the ballroom”.

“Your wish is my command” he teased taking your hand in his and leading you back out of the maze instead of returning the way you came San led you through the darker side of the gardens towards the entrance that the knights often used when they came and went from the castle leading your through empty passageways and hallways until you reached the wing your quarters were in, you entered letting San stop at your door to let the guard know he would be taking over and to go get some rest before he would be following you inside.

You sat at your vanity waiting, removing your jewelry and hair pins before wiping the makeup from your face. You had already slipped off your underskirts which made your dress considerably less dramatic but there was no way you would be able to get out of your corset without your maids help so you just watched your reflection until you heard your door close and the lock click shut.

“San?” you called watching his shadow appear in the room.

“I’m here my Princess” he smiled warmly.

“I…I…I don’t know where to start” you chewed on your lip softly, the trepidation you felt was obvious.

“Is the man you want me Princess?” he asked tenderly his voice sweet like honey making you feel warm as it surrounded you making you nod silently.

“I love you San, I always have” you admitted shyly, your face burning with blush.

“God’s I’ve dreamed you would say that to me one day” he groaned striding to you and pulling you into his arms his lips pressing against yours once more this time not hiding the emotions he felt for you, his tongue traced the seam of your lips encouraging you to let him deepen the kiss which your did his tongue slipping past your lips to slid against your own in a slow sensual dance. You couldn’t help the faint moan that escaped your throat as his hands moved to hold you as close to him as he could. When he finally broke away from you he pressed his forehead against yours as you panted for breath.

“I loved you from the first moment I came to this kingdom and I will love you until my last breath” he declared to you sincerely “If your father allows this I will worship you from this day forth if you let me”. You nodded as tears came to your eyes, you had never imagined that San would ever return your feeling he was a far more worldly man and could have any woman in the kingdom yet he had wanted to be yours just as desperately as you had wanted him. Your lips crashed back into him too lost in the joy of his love to think about anything else, hands buried in his hair to hold him close to you as his arms encircled you, picking you up and pressing you against the wall beside the vanity. Pressing himself fully against you.

You let your hands fall to his shoulders to hold him as he began kissing his way down your neck towards your chest, your corset giving him enough space to get well below your collarbone before finding your lips again his hands had bunched your skirt up around your hips allowing him to press against your core more easily making you wiggle against him and cause him to let a deep groan escape his throat.

“Easy Princess, I might not be able to stop if we go too far” San panted against your neck, mouthing at the junction of your shoulder as you shivered in his arms.

“I want to, please I think I’m on fire” you whined wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

“Shit, my love, if I deflower you the king will kill me” he ground out between his clenched teeth as you rolled your hips experimentally against him.

“He would never harm the father of my child” you whimpered the feeling of his hardness grinding against your cotton covered core giving you the friction you desperately needed.

“Fuck don’t say things like that” growled his hands sliding between you and the wall to tug at your laces while he kissed you again making your need for him grow with each muffled sound that passed between your mouths. He flung the black top of your corsent to the side your under corset undone enough for him to get access to your breasts making you cry out as he took one of your hardened nipples between his kiss swollen lips teasing it and suckling at it until your head tipped back against the wall. Carefully lowering you to the fur rug on the floor he roughly tugged your undergarments away allowing you time to wiggle your corset off without undoing it completely leaving you bare to him.

“So beautiful” he whispered reverently his hand cupping your cheek again before slowly dragging it down your body making your skin erupt in a feeling of fire licking at your skin, he undid his uniform throwing the jacket and undershirt behind him before working on the laces of his pants allowing you to see him in all his glory, you couldn't help your fingers from reaching out and tracing the old scars that crossed his chest the silver skin standing out in the glow of the room his eyes boring into you watching your every expression as you took your time touching him before he slid his fingers from your hip to your center achingly slowly slipping them between your folds making your mouth fall open in surprise.

“San” you gasped, unsure of what he was doing.

“Let me pleasure you my love” he smiled reassuringly, moving to kiss you once more as one of his fingers began circling your bud causing you to begin mewling into his mouth “That’s it my love let me show you how much I love you”.

Subconsciously you spread your thighs apart wider to allow him to touch you more, another of his long fingers pressing against your entrance slightly before entering you, he sunk his digit deeper and deeper making your eyes roll back as you began to rock against his hand. Another finger began stretching your velvet walls, the feeling sending surges of pleasure through you as they massaged your walls.

“Saaan” you moaned the feeling building and building deep inside you like a coil waiting to snap.

“When it feels too good and you cannot hold it in, let go my love” he cooed, kissing your neck as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you.

“Oh San…agh..ngh” you cried out feeling the coil explode and white hot pleasure flood your veins.

“Good girl” San mumbled moving to slot himself between your thighs. “Tell me if this hurts you and I will stop”.

You nodded dazed from the floaty feeling that still filled your brain, only clearing when you felt a much larger stretch beginning as San cautiously entered you inch by inch until you were fully impaled on his cock the feeling almost painful as he stilled to let you adjust to the sensation of being completely full. Kissing you deeply he slowly dragged his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting back in his gentle pace to help you not feel anything but pain.

“Does it hurt my love?” he gasped against your lips, continuing to languidly move his hips.

“No feels good” you moaned quietly, no longer feeling unsure of the feeling of him moving inside you. He hissed in pleasure speeding up the rocking of his hips helping you to wrap one leg around him, each snap of his hips making the coil tighten again making you roll your hips to meet his thrust making him moan loudly and your walls flutter.

“Fuck just like that my love you feel like heaven” he grunted watching your face as your mouth dropped open again and your moans got louder “Good girl, let go when you want to alright, I want to feel you on my cock” he babbled making you start to see white again as fire spread through your veins again and you couldn’t he but scream as your second high hit you.

“San, San, San” you chanted before he rapidly pulled away from you his cock in his hand as he covered your tummy and breasts in thick white ropes of his release.

“Sorry My love let me clean you up" he panted, grabbing his undershirt from the floor and wiping you clean before collapsing beside you “Couldn’t risk letting go inside you at least not until your father lets me marry you”. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you at the idea of him still needing to keep you safe even whilst deflowering you.

"Let me get you into bed so that you don’t catch a cold from being on the stone floor” he smiled bashfully, helping you to get into your bed still nude but at least warmer as he cleaned up the clothes that we strewn around the room and partially dressed himself.

“Are you leaving?” you whimpered panic rising in your throat.

“I will never leave you but I cannot stay here all night, your maids will find me” he smiled climbing onto the bed beside you we can’t have a scandal in the castle.

“Come with me tomorrow when I talk to my father?” you implored cuddling into his side, his fingers softly combing through your hair.

“Of course my love” He whispered kissing your head as your eyes fell closed

A/N: Thank you again for reading my darlings xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[woso-dreamzzz]

Secret III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You're a bit messy

When Mapi takes you out to the park, she doesn't expect it to rain.

But it does.

It rains and rains and rains until she's shivering in the cold and wet as you very determinedly stamp around in the mud by the bank of the lake.

"Be careful!" Mapi calls after you and you stick your tongue out at her.

It was a stupid idea to be caught without an umbrella and without a coat but this was Barcelona and she really wasn't expecting it.

"Come on!" She winces as you sink lower into the mud, ruining the new Sambas she had specifically bought for you.

"But Mami-"

"No, Skatt," Mapi says, covering her horror with a little laugh," Let's go home now."

You huff in annoyance, dipping down once more into the mud before running to her side, hands firmly in your pockets as you drag your muddy feet all the way back to Mapi's nice, clean car.

"Oh!" Ingrid exclaims when you come running into the house about twenty minutes later," You look all messy, Skatt! Did you have fun!"

You push a strand of wet hair out of your face as you grin. "Uh-huh."

You hurry off into the bathroom, leaving a trail of muddy footprints after you.

"She's ruined them," Mapi laments.

"Well," Ingrid replies, pursing her lips," Seeing as the last four pairs of the same shoes ended up the same way, you can't be surprised Mapi."

"Yes I can! I thought it would be different!"

Ingrid shakes her head fondly, pushing out from the kitchen table. "I told you," She says," Skatt doesn't need fancy shoes. You need to start putting her in her wellies even when you don't think it'll rain. Save the fancy shoes for dinners and birthday parties."

Mapi pouts, scuffing her own Sambas on the hard wood flooring. "I just wanted us to match."

"I know."

And Ingrid does know. You look like her, overwhelmingly so. It makes sense obviously but you're truly like her mini and sometimes Mapi's been called things like your auntie or babysitter by strangers and Ingrid knows Mapi hates it.

"But you can match for fancy events," Ingrid continues," It's not worth it ruining another set of shoes because Skatt decided to go digging again."

The bath starts running and Mapi smiles wryly.

"At least she knows it's bath time when she gets muddy."

"Yes," Ingrid says fondly," We've trained her well." She leans towards the bathroom. "Skatt! Are you getting undressed?"

"Yes, Mama!"

"Do you want to wash her up or should I?"

"You can," Mapi says," I'll grab her a change of clothes. You might need to do her hair. It wasn't tied up properly."

"Got it."

When Ingrid enters the bathroom, she's thrown. There's a remarkably lifelike frog toy kicking around in the water. She's never seen it before but she knows Mapi stopped off at the shops before the park and your interest in frogs is almost as high as your interest in bugs so Ingrid supposes you had convinced Mapi to buy it for you.

She lathers up your hair with shampoo after cleaning your body and you hum happily.

"Did you see a lot of bugs on your trip today?"

"Uh-hu! Saw dragonfly and gnats and flies and bumblebees-"

The power on the toy is really going strong, Ingrid notes, because it keeps swimming in circles and she has to wonder what store Mapi bought it at because it's unlike any other bath toy Ingrid's ever seen before.

"-And wasps and Mami had to run away after seeing it because she was scared it was going to string her."

"That's nice, Skatt." Ingrid rinses out your hair, pulls out the plug of the bath and moves to the living room to start towel drying your hair.

Mapi goes to grab your dirty clothes and throw them in the laundry.

That's when it croaks at her.

That's also when she screams.

A frog stares back at her, perched on the taps.

It stares.

Mapi screams again.

"Mapi?!" Ingrid bursts into the room," What is it? Are you hurt?!"

"What is that?!" Mapi points a shaking finger at the creature and you, still wrapped up in your towel, poke your head around the door.

"My frog!"

"What?!" Mapi and Ingrid both demand, whirling around to look at you.

"My frog!" You repeat," Found him in the park. He was sad so I brought him home!"

Ingrid massages her temples and Mapi shrieks again when she sees the frog hop into the now empty bathtub.

"We can't keep the frog."

You grown. "Why not? We kept my millipede."

Ingrid goes pale. "What millipede?"

"The millipede in my terrarium." You point your own finger at Mapi. "The one Mami bought for me."

"She what?!"

"Ingrid...I can explain!"

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Still going through the slowest Deathly Hallows reread, and I encountered this lovely Tomarrymort moment I felt like sharing. I mean, I saw some people mention how Hermione refers to their mental connection as a relationship:

“You never really tried!” she said hotly. “I don’t get it, Harry—do you like having this special connection or relationship or what—whatever—” She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up. “Like it?” he said quietly. “Would you like it?” “I—no—I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean—” “I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he’s most dangerous. But I’m going to use it.”

(DH, 202)

Above Harry clearly denies it, but later in Deathly Hallows, there's a moment I didn't see talked about as much, where Harry, in his own mind, agrees with Hermione:

Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before

(DH, 375)

Not only did Harry lie to Hermione but he actually prizes his connection to Voldemort for its usefulness and for the sense of purpose it gives Harry. Now, I want to expand on the latter one.

I already talked about how in Deathly Hallows, Voldemort's sole purpose and obsession is Harry, but, Harry isn't much different. Like, he has a few other things going on, but a lot of his sense of purpose and sense of self hinges on Voldemort.

The reason these visions from Voldemort become so important to him is that he feels it's the only useful thing he can do since they're stuck on the Horcruxes' front. They give him a sense of purpose. The fact he connects the loss of his connection with Voldemort and the destruction of his wand is so fascinating to me.

Because Harry's wand is so important to him, he describes it as a piece of himself, like a living thing that is part of him:

The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly. Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the wand to Hermione

(DH, 300)

Without realizing it, he was digging his fingers into his arms as if he were trying to resist physical pain. He had spilled his own blood more times than he could count; he had lost all the bones in his right arm once; this journey had already given him scars to his chest and forearm to join those on his hand and forehead, but never, until this moment, had he felt himself to be fatally weakened, vulnerable, and naked, as though the best part of his magical power had been torn from him.

(DH, 303)

Connecting something he thinks about like this and his connection to Voldemort is... well, it's interesting, to say the least.

I mean, of course, there is the twin core and its protection, and it's clear why he would connect his wand to Voldemort, but Harry was always fond of his wand despite its connection to Voldemort, not because of it:

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia.

(GoF, 310)

So, I find all this kinda interesting. How during the final book Harry's sense of purpose and being becomes more and more hinged on Voldemort while essentially the same thing is going on with Voldemort who forgot about the ministry entirly and is only focused on killing Harry.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of them. This place is something that they had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not their home and it has never been, until now. Now, Avery, at least, is stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, she’d had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, she is met with a smiling family picture. Only, she’s not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of her bags in one hand behind her today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind her, reminding her that she’s standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings. Avery’s last name isn’t Mitchell because her biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because her mother’s husband knew she wasn’t his and would rather die before letting her take his name.

She shrugs her duffel bag closer to her body and turns left. Bradley huffs under the weight of her luggage, watching her walk her cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of her single duffel bag, she turns slowly to face him and frowns slightly. “My room.” 

Avery doesn’t remember Bradley. Not in her own memories, anyway. She knows he was around, she’s seen him in pictures but the image in her head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a very slight familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” Avery realises with a hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was hers. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was hers, too. It’s not like she had ever kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that she would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of them. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on her face, right in front of him, is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. Avery thinks about it and finds herself pretty sure that she’s never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that she had stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on her face, he hadn’t even considered leaving her here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for her sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” Avery agrees, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like hers, anyway. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. She calls Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of her bags and nodding for her to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as they walk silently across it, neither one of them would know that. Neither one of them was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind her, following her up. She stops at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind her.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around her and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at her. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, her shoes along the tan oak floors. Her fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Suddenly, Avery’s throat is thick with the knowledge that all she knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that she’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding her of why exactly it is that she’s here.

Fire burns behind her eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets her bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling her eyes out, and Avery refuses to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again.

That thick feeling sits in her throat like a stack of weights as she sits down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking her weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to her and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since she had even set foot in this house last. If she had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… she sits and thinks to herself about if she would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting her head, she blinks at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing her onto her feet again. 

Mobile once more, Avery turns slowly to take in her surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, she was prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing she wants is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” She nods, setting into motion to help take the sheets off.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, she hasn’t seen how he has been for the past few days.

“I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to her with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of them until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

Then, there’s a moment of total stillness between the two of them. Her gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of them.

Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of them.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

Avery watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. She wonders if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. She stands there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew her dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking her brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, Avery can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside her shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, her experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to her as any of the other guys in the stories she grew up hearing about. Her very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at her.

He can’t hide from her forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of them as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when she had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of them, now. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. Avery has barely unpacked. She set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever her space to claim.

She chews absentmindedly at the bite she had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above their heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why she isn’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for Avery. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here she is, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at her. Her hair is up differently now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs, tidier than it had been earlier. She’s wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes she got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think she looks that much like her old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when she offers him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. They both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” Avery asks quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows she probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in her spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

She stops chewing. That last bite sits in her mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. She stares across at him, awkwardly making herself swallow down the last of her bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at her mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” She tells him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. She’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” She picks up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell her not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches her, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.”

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For her, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into hers under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” She hums, pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that Avery wakes up. He hears her coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s hers, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making her uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as she strolls into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at her eyes.

She’s wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt she had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making her lift her gaze from busily tapping at her phone. Her gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, she finds his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. She locks her gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” She heads right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when she grabs the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. Avery the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching her face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” Avery skims her fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much she knows about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for her to get herself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” She asks, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make her coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. She swings it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if she’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across her mind — what’ll happen to this place when she leaves it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into her tone as she curls her fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on her face, stuck between whether she’s sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of her tongue with a shrug of her shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for her without thought. His palm claps against her shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on her shoulder, her eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what she’s searching for, or whether she finds it. His fingers squeeze softly against her skin before the touch is gone all together.

They drink their coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in their silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — she doesn’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces her not to wear the more formal dress she had thought she’d have to wear. She slips into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes her dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, she watches him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; she silently appreciates that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when sleep is cut from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep Avery up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with her car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles Avery from her daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” She’s stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before she’s taking her next breath, leaving him to catch up to her. 

His long strides have him at her side before long, reaching ahead of her to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at her side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops her from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.

He catches her forearm as she tries to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on her forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of her wrist as he nods his head towards her.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way Avery has stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards Avery, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who the girl at Bradley's side must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, Avery's lips parting slightly as she realises that this stranger is headed right for her. Bradley feels Avery's arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way she's trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch Avery when he can see how unnerved it makes her.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from her forearm and his palm falls flat between her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid Lynn's hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while Avery continues down the hall.

Bradley catches up to her as she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against her thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind the young woman he had arranged this meeting with. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Avery checks back over her shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind her, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into hers and shakes her hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting her hand go, he then reaches to her right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps her back as he leans into the handshake.

Avery steps away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to her than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

Avery sits in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him, not really.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

Avery blinks at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Her brows knit together, lips pursed, unimpressed.

“But— he’s dead.” She frowns abruptly, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at her, her words like a jolt of ice-cold water, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in her expression, no fear or sadness. Pete deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from her side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

She shoots him a look. When it’s clear that she isn’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects are delivered to you.”

She drags her teeth across her plush bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictures the moment that this is all over. She can get out of here and pretend it never happened.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns her. He’d heard that she had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead her about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for her. 

She’s biting at the inside of her cheek so hard that she must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of her skirt and breathing like she’s trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing her across the parking lot, listening to her try to control her breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching her cautiously as she crowds herself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around her. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes her bicep, bending his knees so he can catch her eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

Avery knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, she’s sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left her with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of her plate for her. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at her bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

She sniffs, turning her gaze towards the ground. The lump in Avery’s throat burns and bobs as she tries to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that she is in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than her. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[charliewrites99]

I can't stop thinking how it would be like if Lestat had his interview with Daniel instead of Louis:

"He was the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He also hated himself, which always helps."

"And then he accused me of killing his brother. As if I didn't wait respectful three days after his death to ask Louis back to my bed."

"His mother was hateful. I could smell it. Great fashion sense though. Dark green was in season at the time."

"I turned him in a church. It was...Oh Daniel, the English language fails to capture the picture. Mainly because it's a garbage language."

"He was really freaking out about the baby, like they can't make a new one."

"And then he went into the woods with him. Like a common prostitute."

"So, Daniel, wanna fuck?"

"Naturally Claudia was an ungratefull little brat, who would be nothing without me. But she at least hunted people, which was more than what Louis was doing. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to live with a vampire who hunts vermin? Like a glorified house cat. Which he also ate. I was disgusted and yet I never judged him for it."

"I record one duet and suddenly I am cheating. I mean I was and he did catch me in bed with her, but he was such an over-reacter Daniel I am telling you."

"She didn't want to finish THE GAME?!!! Who does that?!! What kind of self-absorbed, inffuriating- NO I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!!!! *French cursing*"

"So, I turned her into a vampire. In retrospect it was a waste of time and blood. She lasted like two months. And ugh, the attitude."

"Louis cried, he still loved me I could see it. I could feel it. Claudia just used me as an ink bottle. I had to respect the commitment. Follow through was something Louis always strugled with."

"No, but seriously Daniel, I think we should fuck."

"And he put me in a light oak coffin that opened from the inside. After I specifically requested Rosewood. I know it was Claudia's doing."

"In the end *dramatic pause* I ate the rats. When I was younger I thought I would rather have been dead than to stoop so low, but here we were."

"I miss him Daniel, he was the reason I wanted to survive. Claudia hopefully perished in Central Europe somewhere. With her mismatched skirts."

"I won't turn you, but I can give you a night you won't forget until the end of you pathetic little human existance. You can top I don't care."

[little-forest-goblin]

Forget-me-nots

(In this Five x lila never happened. They only sibling bonded in that damned subway. also in this they didnt cease to exist and become marigolds they ended up going into a different timeline with none of there powers even existing)

Synopsis: After the cleanse everyone had ended up forgetting who they were in the messed up timelines and lived normal lives. But what happens when you remember your husband that doesn’t quite remember you.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Well this is an interesting turn of events.

You always did feel like something was off. Like something was missing but now knowing you were right is quite freaky to say the least. As a kid you wondered why you had strange dreams. dreams of another life. When you were a kid you’d lay down in your little bed tucked in cozy and snug and look out the window at the stars and moon until you would sleep and then the odd dreams would start. You would always ask your mom about it but she would tell you that its your imagination and that its just dreams and nothing to worry about but every night its like you were in another world. You began to look forward to these dreams brushing your teeth and hopping into bed as quick as possible. There was one thing that kept you coming back. Him. The boy in your dreams. As you grew up he grew up with you in the dreams. You and him got closer in the dreams. When you were younger you found it odd that his name was a five hargreeves. like the number five. you asked him about it but he never did give a straight answer. Either way you and him had your fun pissing off the father in your dreams, reginald. You hated that man even though he was just in your dreams. You hated how he treated vanya(viktor) but you were powerless against his cruel gaze and sharp words.

Around when you turned 13 your dreams took a turn. You and five had crushes on each other and were together all the time. One day in your dreams at the dinner table everyone was eating and doing their own things. Reginald was at the head listening to the record, luther and allison where giving eachother goo goo eyes, klaus was probably rolling a joint under the table, vanya(viktor) ate quietly trying to avoid any scrutiny from reginald, diego was also silently eating and ben was casually reading. Suddenly five took his knife and stabbed it into the table. reginald looked at him “Number 5?” he said in that monotonous tone of disinterest and mild annoyance. “I have a question.” Reginald looked back down at his food “Knowledge is a admirable goal, but you know the tules no talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr carlson” Five looked over at you and you gave him a look basically telling to ‘please tread lightly we both know how father is’ five smiled softly at you before looking back over at reginald with annoyance “I want to time travel” reginald shook his head softly using that damned tone “No” five was quick to answer “But im ready” he pushed out of his chair slowly making a light wood on tile scrape “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said” to prove it he demonstrated said spatial jumps by appearing next to reginald at the head of the table “See?” reginald sighed and picked up his glass “A spatial jump is trivial when compared to the unknowns of time travel one is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.” you silently looked and saw vanya(viktor) silently shaking her head telling him that its not a good idea to continue with this. you must’ve missed some of the conversation cause soon five over to you taking your hand and walking outside pushing open the gate and walking down the street. you were a little shook “Five, what are you doing?” you asked with concern. he didnt look at you and kept walking straight ahead. “We are going to time travel.” you were gonna protest saying what if reginald might be right which he of course countered saying that reginald was mean old bastard and that he doesnt know what he is talking about. You finally agreed and nervously but excitedly jumped with him. you were amazed by the things you saw. you looked around at what is the city but in a different time with a big smile. you laughed as you jumped again and he smiled at you with a small blush tinging his cheeks that you didn’t notice considering you were looking around eventually they jumped into the winter time. you gave a small yelp at the suddenness of the cold and laughed with him as he chuckled at your yelp and then you humped again and were plunged into a hellish landscape. the world destroyed. Fires that burned and raged on. Buildings crumpled and destroyed. dust and smoke lay thick in the air. “F-Five! what happened?! whats going on?!” you panicked and looked to him. he looked just as confused and worried as you “I-I dont know! hold on im getting us back home!” he tried to use his time traveling powers but it just didnt work his hands glowed blue ans crackled to life but it just wouldn’t work. you and him panicked and you and him ran back to what was once the academy. there you saw it crumpled and you saw him fall to his knee’s in shock and distraught. you came over to him and held him even though you were shaking and panicking yourself you tried to help him the best you could.

From that day on your dreams had changed significantly. Every night your dreams felt like years. you and him trapped in that apocalyptic hell surviving on what you can whether its bugs and rotten food. sickness and weariness. you both had each other and thats all that you needed. You and him grew closer in the dreams. Eventually when you were both around the age of 18 you and him officially dated. You and him together and your love uniting you two to be a surviving duo. Though you wished the situation was different but you are glad you could do it with him. you both even made a good friend named dolores. God she was great funny and had a kind heart and had sass to her. Eventually when you where both in your mid twenties you and him had been dating for 6 or 7 years you and him married. He had made matching wedding rings he had made for the metal scrap. it was beautiful and you said yes immediately. You and him were now Mr and Mrs hargreeves. Dolores was the biggest supporter of this happening. Now you wish you could say the dreams didn’t affect you in the waking world but oh they did. You felt wrong every time you had a boyfriend or girlfriend cause you felt like a married woman and hell you even caught yourself saying ‘me and my husband’ a few times which threw people off and you’d have to correct yourself apologizing and making up any excuse that fit. Either way you felt dirty and disloyal for dating so you stayed single and waited till night to be by your husband again.

Eventually at a certain point in the dreams you and him grew old and eventually the handler came along recruiting you and him into the commission to be assassins. He never stopped writing in that journal of his to help you and him leave this and go back home. Eventually you and him did it and got home and to summarize that apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse until you and him were older and he worked for the CIA and lila and diego and all that. Until one day everything clicked in place after a certain dream of being in the cleanse and letting the universe reset and it felt like your life now and the dreams collided into one being merging into you until you woke with a start with a remembrance of everything. Holy shit those aren’t dreams those are real. That was your life. Its like realization hit you like a truck. No wonder you never dreamed of anything else. No wonder you had trouble getting in relationships. No wonder something felt missing but felt right when in the dream.

For a while you fell into this depression missing your husband and missing being with and around him. Missing the small things and missing the shared moments whether it was comfortable silence. One day you were out getting coffee at a coffee shop cause you just needed something to wake you up before heading to work. you walked out the shop and accidentally bumped into someone. You paused and turned to them “Oh my god im so sorry!” the man turned to you and you felt goosebumps down your legs and spine. It was five your beloved husband. You stared in shock and he looked at you and fixed his suit “Its alright. I should’ve been more careful.” He seemed to avoid your eye as he fixed his suit not looking at you at all until he walked away without giving a glance. you stared dumbfounded as he walked and turned the corner. You stood for a moment considering following him but your rational thought told you thats a bad idea cause you’ll look like a creep but eventually the desperation got to you and you followed after him making sure to try and stay hidden. God you felt like a creep but you just needed to know.

Eventually you found he lived in an apartment building a few blocks from your own. why you never saw him? you don’t know. Either way when you got home you tried to figure out a way for him to maybe recognize you. Did he remember you? Did he also have what he thought were dreams? You thought for days until you got an idea and you rushed grabbing your purse and keys and headed out to your car.

~Fives POV~

Its been a few days. A few days and that strange woman wont leave my head. Its been tearing me apart. Who was she? why does she seem familiar? When she bumped me why did my skin tingle and alight like a fireplace having a lit match thrown in. For days now i’ve been sitting and pondering about her but i’ve tried in vain to make her leave my head. I’ve tried to distract myself to no avail. Its a Saturday afternoon and its oddly peaceful. Im making my normal cup of coffee though i should drink water. I can hear her in my head telling me to drink water instead of so much coffee all the time. I smile softly looking back at the dreams. I look at my ring finger seeing the ring i made in my dreams. I couldn’t bare to part with it i had to make it. I wanted her to be real and put that ring on her finger all over again but in the waking world. Suddenly a knock at the door interrupt my thoughts. I groan and went to the door. Who is here at this time of day? i look through the peephole seeing no one. odd. i open the chain lock and look around seeing nobody until i look to the floor and there laid a bouquet. Not just any bouquet its full of scorpion grasses or more commonly known as forget me nots. where did i read or learn about this? i have no clue. wait where did i learn this? I look at there blue color and then suddenly there’s a throb in my head and i remember something in my dreams. Forget me nots… the untouched field…his proposal…

With shaking hands i picked up the bouquet and looked at it gently feeling one of the petals. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

~in the “dream”~

The sun beat down on you and him. Thankfully there was a light breeze and they had gotten to a more rural area. countryside if you will. the years they spent here cause the plants to come back but in full force growing over things and vining up walls and over bricks and glass. You and him carefully were searching the ruins of the house careful for glass and rust. Five called to you “Careful for any glass, love!” you chuckled and looked to him as he searched under some bricks of what used to be a kitchen portion of the small farmhouse “You act as if we haven’t been doing this since we were 13.” he gave a lopsided smile and stood up from his crouched position “Yes but i also remember you distinctly cutting your arm on some collapsed metal rafting after i told you to be careful for them.” you looked at him in amused disbelief “That was one time! one time! You still hold that over my head?!” you laughed in amusement and incredulously. he put his hands in his pocket and walked closer to you “Not holding over your head, love, just watching out for my clumsy girl and no its been multiple times now.” he stopped infront of you with a smug but loving look. You were about to protest but opted to stay quiet and continue you and his search for sustenance all while grumbling about how yo it not all THAT clumsy. He laughed amused by your silence “What was that love?” you looked to him and narrowed your eyes playfully “Shouldn’t you be helping me out here?” he chuckled and went over to the kitchen to search cabinets. After some time of you searching with no avail you stood dusting your gloved hands off and looked around till you looked out a broken window to behind the house seeing a field. you curiously went to the unhinged door and stepped through to find a flower field. A field of forget me nots. You took in the beauty. it’s been a while since you saw beauty such as this in a dead end world. You smiled walking of the old porch and into the middle of the field and laid down in the middle of it smiling closing your eyes and sighing. Meanwhile five had found some food in a cabinet and thank god for it being unopened canned food and not twinkies. he shudders when he thinks of that. he calls to you “Babe! i found some food. We even got some canned pie filling. i call dibs on…” he trails off when he doesnt hear you answer. he turned his head and walked to the once was the living room. “Babe?” he looked around till he saw your figure laid in the field. he smiled and went out the back door and went to you standing over you. “enjoying yourself, love?” you opened your eyes looking up at him smiling and nodded. he chuckled and looked around at the peace and serenity of the moment. he looked back to you and decided now was the tight time. “Babe, i wanna ask you something.” you furrowed your brows a little and sat up “What is it baby? something wrong?” he chuckled and smiled and watched as you stood “No nothing wrong infact better then ever.” he took your hand kissing the top of it then bringing your hand over his heart. “My love, you have been the best thing to happen to me. Before dating, before getting stuck in the apocalypse and before things went to shit. I love you and always will. You have been the best thing to happen to me.” your eyes went a little wide as he lowered to own knee “Five…” he smiled up at her pulling out the ring that was to fit her finger “Y/N L/N will you be my wife?” you smiled and tears fell down he cheeks and she nodded “Yes!” she leaped on him in a hug laughing he felt relief flood him like a tidal wave. he hugged you back tightly till he pulled back and took your hand sliding the ring on your fingers and kissing you to seal the deal.

~End of “Dream”~

He was wide eyed shocked as dreams collided with reality and realization hit his face “Oh my god….”

~Your POV~

you where hiding as you watched him from the door. a little stalkerish? yes. then again thats your husband and it seems as though he is remembering. You smiled as everything went according to plan now all you had to do was walk out and reveal yourself but sadly your shoe laces had come undone and you fell out in the open with a ‘Umph’ you groaned and sat back up “Ow son of a bi-“ you then remembered and looked to five who was looking at you with shock and love and desperation. “babe…its you…Y/N” you looked to him nervously swallowed and nodded “Five?” you and him felt whole again seeing eachother but the desperation to be closer pulled you in and you ran into his arms as fast as you had fallen. You peppered his face in kisses “Oh i never thought i’d see you again! I thought i’d be destined to be alone.” he chuckled and held you close then captured your lips in a tender kiss till he pulled back and laid his forehead on his. his hands on either of your cheeks. “I cant tell you how much i missed you.” She smiled and held his own face between her hands. “I love you five” he smiled and kissed you again pulling back softly “I love you too”. Everything my felt right again. Whole. Complete. You had your husband back and he had his wife back. For the rest of the day both you and him where wrapped up in each others arms. embraced. Catching up with whats been going on and laid down in bed kissing and cuddling. Everything was as it should be.

———————————————————————

Hey y’all i hope you guys liked this story! Im not to good at writing but I’m trying my best. I hope you enjoyed and hope you have a good day ❤️

P.S sorry for any grammatical errors

[sl-ut]

like real people do

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby is one hundred percent, totally, and completely straight. that is, until she meets y/n.

warnings: UNEDITED, swearing, slight hints of nsfw, alcohol consumption, a hint of homophobia? (not really but just in case)

words: 5.9K

date posted: 08/02/24

The years had not been kind to Abby. By the time that she and her friends were celebrating her twenty-first birthday, the woman had suffered many losses; the death of her mother at a young age, her father’s murder a few years back, and most recently, her breakup with Owen. She was quick to discover that the universe was not exactly on her side. 

From her perspective, Owen was not just a boyfriend. Of course, he was hardly even that at most times, but he also represented the time in her life where everything was good; Salt Lake City, spending time in the woods with him and her dad, playing stupid little games to pass the time with him, Manny, and Mel…he reminded her of when everything was easier. She sometimes felt guilty for this, considering that she sometimes couldn’t tell whether her emotional attachment to him was because of how much she cared for him or for the impossible standards she’s always held him to. 

Seattle represented a new beginning for her and her friends. They were able to find a new community, stay together, and live a semi-normal life that even the Fireflies were unable to offer them. Things were good there, people generally liked her, and she was quickly making her way up the ranks as one of the top WLF soldiers, though there were certainly some downsides. At the WLF compound, she began to see things in a new light; She was able to focus on herself for once, do the things that she wanted and branch out more than before. She was no longer limited to the small world of the few Fireflies who actually made it out of Salt Lake City. 

It’s for this reason that she holds herself at least somewhat accountable for how things ended with Owen. Of course, she didn’t blame herself for his infidelity, nor for him choosing to do so with one of her closest friends, but she knew that it was her distance that caused the rift to form between them. She felt betrayed by them, obviously, but as time passed, it seemed clear to her that she was more hurt by the fact that it was her two closest confidants who had caused the pain, not the fact that Owen and Mel had been sleeping together for months before she and Owen called it quits. 

Her saving grace during this period of her life came in the form of someone she would later consider her best friend, despite how offended Manny gets each time she calls her that. Her first interaction with Y/n was the moment that she knew she needed to have her in her life, one way or another. 

She hadn’t noticed her right away, but who would? Amidst the thunderous crowd of the cafeteria just before lunch, it would be nearly impossible to notice anyone who she wasn’t directly looking for, which in a way, is how Abby noticed her to begin with. Manny was actually the one to sniff her out first, as he so often did with pretty girls, his midnight black hair standing out against the white fluorescent lighting. She beelined for him, an annoyed expression crossing her features as she figured out the reason why he’d been late for patrol.

“Manny!” She barked, “How many times do I have to drag your ass to the gate before you actually show up on ti–”

Her attention was immediately caught by the figure sitting across the table from him, eyes falling on a young woman with a look of shock on her face, clearly concerned by the large woman who’d nearly pulled Manny out of his seat with only one hand.

“Abby!” He greeted, doing his best to brush it off, “I was just on my way to meet you when I got distracted by this one,” He winked at the girl with a laugh, “Don’t blame me, it’s entirely her fault. Cierto, hermosa?”

Every engorged muscle in Abby’s body had to hold her back from physically gagging at his obnoxious charm, but she was a bit relieved to see that the girl did not seem to be falling for it so easily. 

“Whatever,” the blonde shook her head, trying to suppress any of the nerves that seemed to have wormed their way into her bloodstream under the girl’s stare, “We’re late, and I’m not taking anymore shit from Isaac over you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he began to head towards the door, offering a short goodbye to the girl before jogging to catch up with the blonde, who’d sped off in an attempt to get herself away from the girl. 

“Cute, right?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.

She shrugged, “Yeah, your standards seem to be on the rise, finally. What ever happened to the medic–what was her name again? Ginger?”

“Me and Y/n? In my dreams, sure,” He stared at her with a raised brow, “I’m not exactly…her type.”

Something clicked in her mind, and made the twisting feeling in her gut worsen. Goosebumps prickled at her skin as she thought back on the roaming stare of the girl in the cafeteria–Y/n, as Manny had called her. Had she been checking Abby out? And why did that idea excite her so much?

“Oh,” she hummed.

“You, however… you definitely were. Did you see the way she was looking at you? Like she wanted you to–”

“Shut up, would you?” She sneered, “I’m not–that’s not–”

“I know,” he sighed, though a knowing look crossed his features, “I know.”

A few days had passed before Abby had run into Y/n again, only this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Abby had been spending a lot of time in the library, especially since her breakup with Owen and even ended up sleeping there some nights when Manny took the liberty of reserving the room for himself and whatever girl he was dating at the time. She found some peace there, burying her nose into random books from before the outbreak and pretending that, for just a few minutes, she isn’t just the top scar killer in the WLF. There was hardly ever anyone else there, which was a definite plus; She still had a long way to go before she’d be used to all the attention she gets around the arena. This day in particular. though, someone else occupied her usual seat in the furthest corner, by the window. 

She jumped in surprise at the sight of another person in her place, holding her palm to her chest to hold in any noise that may have emitted from her throat. The girl raised her head to look over the thick spine of the hardcover book she was reading, surprise evident on her own face as well.

“Sorry,” Abby choked out, “I just wasn’t expecting…I’m usually the only one here.”

“Oh,” Y/n sat up straighter, laying her book page-down on the table in front of her, “Yeah, I usually take the book back to my room, but my roommate is a little…busy at the moment.”

Abby snorted, “I get what you mean. Mine too.”

There was a beat of silence before Y/n chimed in again, “What are you reading?”

Abby glanced down at the book in her hand, eyes scanning over the faded words on the cover. She actually hadn’t known what book she’d taken off the shelf, just slowly making her way through every book in the library, “Uh, Jane Air–Eyre. First one I grabbed.”

“That’s a good one,” Y/n nodded, “One of the classics, I think they used to call them.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Abby mentally kicked herself, of course she would completely blank in front of the girl she’d been thinking about all week (but she was still, totally not into her). “Uh, what about you?”

Y/n smiled, “A Complete History of the Western World. Call me nostalgic, but I like learning about how things were before.”

“Me too,” Abby smiles, “In a way, it’s kinda comforting to see that this isn’t how things always were, you know?”

Y/n grinned, which quickly turned into a frown, “Sorry, I didn’t even…I’m Y/n.”

Abby smiled tightly, cheeks burning red as she reached forward to accept the hand offered to her, “I’m–”

“Abby,” Y/n smiled bashfully, “I know. You’re Manny’s friend, and sort of a big deal around here.”

Abby shrugged, the red of her cheeks now stretching to reach the tips of her ears, “Yeah, that’s what everyone seems to say. Not sure if I really live up to that expectation, though.”

Y/n chuckled before glancing down at her cracked wrist watch, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she closed her book and stood up from her seat, “Sorry, not trying to run away from you or anything, just lost track of time. Talk to you later, Abby.”

The next few weeks passed with several more interactions between the pair, and Abby would actually consider Y/n to be a friend. They could often be found in the library together, or grabbing a bite to eat with one another and sometimes a few others. Manny often grumbled about Abby swooping in and stealing his friends, but he always seemed to be more than happy to see the two of them together. That strange feeling did not disappear, though, like Abby thought it would. In fact, it got considerably worse.

Instead of having a little bit of nerves around her, Abby was struggling to keep herself from constantly pulling her into her lap, or reaching out to hold her hand across the table, or to tell her how deeply in love with her she wa–except Abby is straight. She likes guys. She dated Owen, and she was deeply hurt by his betrayal, right?

That’s what she told herself. Each longing to touch Y/n was just her own loneliness talking, every time she wanted to be held, it was her basic human need for affection, not because she was romantically or sexually interested in another woman. In fact, she had a little bit of a crush on one of the guys she went on patrol with the other day, or so she told Y/n. She made an effort to make it abundantly clear to the girl that there would be no romantic relationship between them, and was relieved when Y/n didn’t seem to put off by it. She continued to hang out with her, and to invite her to different social events around the arena.

This one was different, though. Abby went, fully intending to spend the night by Y/n’s side, people watching and making fun of Manny as he struck out time and time again. She had arrived to the party with Nora, a bit of pep in her step as she slid into the common area, face falling as she immediately took notice of Y/n on the couch across the room, a soft smile on her face as she listened intently to whatever the girl next to her was saying, her arm curled loosely around Y/n’s shoulders.

Abby felt sick, almost giving in to the instinct to turn and run, and she is positive that if it hadn’t been for Nora being right behind her, she probably would have. She hesitantly stepped further into the room, glancing around awkwardly in hopes of finding someone to hide her from Y/n before she could catch her attention, though it only took a moment’s glance for Y/n to turn her head and shout, waving both Abby and Nora over to where she and the other girl were sitting. 

The girl’s name was Samyah, and Abby decided on the spot that she hated her. She hated the way that she talked, the way she dressed, they way she smelled, the way that Y/n looked at her, and most of all, she hated the way that she held Y/n’s hand as she led her out of the common room, hooded eyes making it clear what was about to happen. But it didn’t really matter, because Abby is straight and this wasn’t going to last anymore than one night.

Except it did. Weeks later, Samyah was still very present in Y/n’s life. Abby cringed every time she had to witness them kiss, or touch each other in any way beyond what could be considered platonic. She prayed every night that something would happen, that Samyah would cheat or die out on patrol, anything to have her away from Y/n for more than a few hours at a time, but when it really happened, she couldn’t help but fear that she may have willed it into existence–Abby wasn’t a religious person, but this seemed to be a bit too on the nose for it to not have been divine intervention. 

Y/n and Samyah had been hooking up for a few weeks when Y/n turned up at Abby’s room, cheeks glossy with tear stains and eyes burning red. Abby was quick to take her into her arms, ignoring the selfish part of her that was singing at the mere contact. She held her tightly, sitting her down on the edge of her bed and stroking the back of her head soothingly, waiting for her to tell her what had happened. 

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk,” She had whispered into her hair before pressing a firm kiss there.

It was less than a moment later when a sharp sniff could be heard and Y/n’s watery voice began to retell what had taken place earlier that evening.

“Samyah has a boyfriend, apparently,” She wept, “She told me she isn’t gay, she just wanted to see what it was like.”

Abby’s entire body burned hot with anger, and then with embarrassment. What would Y/n think if she were to tell her that she’d been wondering the same thing? How would she be able to move forward knowing fully-well that she was no different from Samyah, someone who she had been condemning over the way that she treated Y/n? 

But was it the same? Was it really? Since she had met Y/n, she hadn’t even glanced twice at Owen, let alone any other man. She was all she could think about, day and night, and yet she still couldn’t seem to come to terms with the fact her feelings for her might have been more than platonic. It wasn’t as if she were too ashamed or was actually against the idea of her dating another woman, she was just confused as to why these feelings hadn’t come up before. Sure, there were times where she thought Mel was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen, but that was back when there weren’t many other girls around (and she wasn’t screwing her Abby’s boyfriend), and there was once where she’d had a rather promiscuous dream about Nora, but nothing had ever evolved further than that. 

These thoughts started to keep her up at night. She liked Y/n, she really did, but was it worth risking her friendship only for Abby to decide that she wasn’t gay at all? What if she was just curious? It was normal for people her age to be interested in exploring these things, only she was sort of stuck in a situation where she was unable to. She couldn’t go to Y/n for help with this, that much was blatantly obvious, but what about someone else? She tried to think of other girls she could go to for help, but there was no one who she could immediately think of that she could go to without also risking her friendship with Y/n; she’d been insistent early on in their friendship that she was not interested in women at all, especially when Y/n made it clear that she most certainly was, and more precisely, in Abby, so what would she think if she found out that Abby had slept with another woman after insisting that she wasn’t interested? That might be more dangerous than going to her for help.

It was getting harder to ignore, as well. Y/n was increasingly dependant on Abby for comfort for weeks after she ended things with Samyah, not that Abby minded, but it was growing more difficult not to hold her to her chest as they share a pillow every night, to not reach out and take her hand every time they walk side-by side, to not push her onto the bed every time she undresses in front of her, to pin her down and–

Then Y/n moved on. She was still quite upset, but she had decided that she wasn’t going to spend any more time dwelling on someone who obviously did not care about her, so she met Reagan. Abby didn’t hate Reagan the same way that she had with Samyah, she clearly liked Y/n and treated her as well as she could, considering that they were in the middle of the apocalypse. She was funny, and she fit in with the rest of their friends better than Abby would have liked; she wanted to hate her so much, but the only reason she could think of was purely out of selfishness, that being the fact that Y/n spending time with Reagan meant that she was not spending time with Abby, and after a few weeks of near constant contact with one another, Abby was sure she was going through withdrawals.

It all came to a head when Manny demanded that she take some time off of patrol. With Reagan always around, she had taken it upon herself to start accepting extra duties to avoid having to spend time with the group, and more specifically, Y/n. He’d made some arrangements and assigned someone else to her shift without even telling her, and all but dragged her down the hall and into the rec room. Y/n and Reagan had yet to arrive, but Abby knew that, if she was going to be forced to sit and watch Reagan practically hang off of the girl that she was probably in love with, she was gonna need a drink.

Abby wasn’t normally a big drinker. In her early days in the WLF, there had been a few times where she’d had more than she probably needed, but it also meant that she didn’t necessarily have the highest tolerance, especially with Manny being the one mixing her drinks. He’d been more than excited when Abby went for her second drink, and decided that they needed to go drink for drink with one another. Needless to say, by the time Y/n arrived, Abby was drunk. 

“Abs!” The voice sounded excited as they curled their arms around Abby’s neck from behind, leaning over the back of the sofa she was sitting on to hug her warmly, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It almost felt like time had stopped the moment her eyes landed on Y/n, admiring the glint of the dim lights on her clean skin. Her hair was still damp, she’d just showered before coming to the party, and Abby couldn’t help but wish she’d also done so by the pooling of sweat on her forehead and palms. She leaned her head back against her shoulder, turning to glide her nose against her neck in a much more affectionate manner than she would have if she had been sober.

“Hi,” She mumbled, “You smell good.”

“It’s the lotion we found on patrol a few weeks ago,” Y/n laughed, “And you’re drunk.”

Abby shrugged, “No, just a little tipsy.”

Nora scoffed out a laugh as she plopped down on the armchair next to her, “Tipsy? Please, she’s been letting Manny mix her drinks all night.”

Y/n pulled away, leaving Abby to let out a small whine of defeat, “Uh oh. Something must be wrong to have you drinking Manny’s concoctions.”

“Hey!” The latino appeared seemingly out of thin air, “You’ve just lost yourself drink privileges.”

She raised her hands in surrender, “Not the threat you think it is, pendejo.”

Y/n threw herself onto the couch next to Abby, settling close enough for their arms to press against one another and sending Abby into what she assumed could only be early heart failure. 

“Seriously though, where’ve you been?”

The blonde shrugged once more, “Busy, I guess. Lots of patrols needed to be covered.”

“So you covered…all of them?”

Abby was quiet for a moment, then quickly changed the subject, “Where’s Reagan? Aren’t you two basically attached at the hip or something?”

The smile on Y/n’s face flickered for a beat, and Abby immediately felt a pang of guilt squeeze at her stomach and regret filled her for hurling such a harsh tone at her.

“Something came up,” Y/n turned her gaze to her interlocked fingers in her lap, “She’s not gonna make it.”

Abby recognized a familiar sadness in her voice, one that she had hoped to never hear again, so she dropped the topic and instead found herself falling into a conversation similar to one they would have had before Reagan came into the picture. Things felt right again, especially as Y/n’s hand grasped onto her thick bicep everytime she laughed, and she didn’t push her hand away when she reached over and rested it on her knee–that had to mean something, right?

After Abby finished her fifth drink, things began to get too fuzzy for her to handle, her head dropping back onto the back of the couch with a grunt, her eyes squinting shut in a weak attempt to refocus herself. Y/n glanced up at her, concern painting her features as she reached a hand up to stroke Abby’s flushed cheek. 

“You feeling okay?”

Abby grunted in response, leaning her cheek even further into her hand.

Y/n chuckled at her, pulling herself away to stand up and taking hold of Abby’s hand. The blonde’s eyes popped open at the contact, staring up at the girl with hooded eyes as she attempted to pull her to her feet. Abby pushed herself up, forcing her entire body weight into Y/n’s figure faster than she could have anticipated, almost knocking them both to the floor.

“Woah, steady girl,” Y/n laughed, slinging one of her arms over her shoulder, “I think it’s time to get you to bed, don’t you think?”

Abby nodded sleepily, allowing her to pull her along down the hallway, thankfully not having to climb any stairs to Abby’s room with the girl who was 95% muscle on her back. She was able to get her into the room and seated on her mattress with very little trouble–Abby was very compliant with every order that came out of her mouth. 

She sat back, allowing her to wipe a wet cloth over her face gently, her eyes struggling to stay open even though she was eager to see her face up close and personal once more. 

“Can I ask you something?” She murmured quietly, using every ounce of her strength to keep herself from moaning under Y/n’s touch. 

“Of course.”

She paused for a moment, almost like she was thinking it over, though she had no control over the words that spilled out of her mouth, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Y/n stopped her movements, causing Abby’s eyes to shoot open and fall on the grinning face before her. She laughed softly, then louder until her laughter filled the room and bounced off of the walls. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she lifted a hand to cover her mouth to contain her giggles, “That’s just not what I was expecting. But,” Y/n reached around and tugged the elastic out of Abby’s blonde hair, carefully untwisting the braid until her long hair settled around her shoulders, “I think you are very pretty.”

She smiled, mumbling out a quiet thank you.

“I have another question.”

“I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you one first.”

Abby raised her eyebrows, but was quick to nod in agreement. 

Y/n leaned back against the footboard of Abby’s bed, setting the cloth aside, “Why’ve you been ignoring me lately?”

“I’m not–” the blonde argued, pausing to compose herself, “I’m not ignoring you. I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“Abby.”

The blonde girl winced at her stern tone, wary of meeting her gaze, “Look, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you, it’s just…” 

Don’t say it, her very sober subconscious was pleading with her, please.

Her drunk mouth didn’t listen, “Reagan.”

“Reagan?” Y/n frowned, “What about her?”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s lips, “Nuh-uh, it’s my turn.”

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but urging her to ask nonetheless.

“Do you love her?”

“Do I–Abby, why are you asking me this?”

Her bashful eyes fell to her lap, “I think you know why.”

“No, Abby I don’t–”

Her words were silenced, a hum of shock vibrating through her throat as Abby lurched forward, lips pressing sloppily against her own. Y/n froze, neither pulling away nor reciprocating, just remaining in place until Abby pulled away for air. 

Abby smiled, resting her forehead against Y/n’s softly. She was drunk, yes, but she had never felt more sober and in-tune with her own feelings as she was then, just after kissing the girl she was so hopelessly in love with for the very first time. 

The spell she was under broke the moment her eyelids fluttered open, allowing her to spot the hooded stare and tear-stained cheeks of the girl in front of her.

“Y/n? What’s–”

“You’re drunk, Abby,” she scowled, pushing herself away, “You should go to bed.”

“What? I just–No, please don’t go.”

Y/n turned to face her sharply, “Why? So you can use me for your own pleasure and then kick me to the curb?”

“What?”

“I mean–Jesus, Abby. You were there after Samyah. You were the one who told me she was such a bitch, that I deserved better, but you’re doing the same goddamn thing. Worst of all, you know how I feel about you, but you made it very clear to me that you didn’t feel the same, so I backed off.”

“I love you,” She stammered out, “I-I’m in love with you.”

Y/n laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

“Please,” Abby, fell to the floor as she tried to push her body off of the bed, “I’m telling you the truth. I-I didn’t know before, but I do now.”

Y/n sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose to collect herself, turning to face her once more before fleeing the room, “Go to bed, Abby. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Except they didn’t talk the next day. Or the one after that. Abby basically avoided Y/n like the plague after doing what she did. How could she? Everything that Y/n had said to her was true, she’d known it for weeks. Hell, it was the exact reason why she hadn’t made a move on her sooner. 

She knew she couldn’t escape her forever, though. The WLF stadium was pretty big, but they would both be living there for the rest of their (hopefully long) lives and would be bound to run into each other at some point in that time. She was also already in a fairly deep state of depression because of what had happened between the two of them, but also because of how much she just missed having her around. 

Which is why she found herself outside Y/n’s bedroom door after returning from a particularly risky patrol that had ended in only four of them returning from a group of seven. Abby was shaky as she made her way back inside the compound, her muscles screaming with every step and her body begging her for a shower and a long sleep, but her feet mindlessly carried her in the opposite direction of her own room. Her fist rapped against the thin wood before she could even process it, but she couldn’t run away now, not when she’d been pinned under a scar only an hour ago with a knife to her throat. 

Y/n looked a bit dishevelled as she opened the door, and Abby immediately thought the worst; had she really just shown up at her door at night? What if Reagan was in there? What had Y/n been doing in there when she knocked? Had Abby really interrupted her having sex with someone else?

But the lazy yawn that escaped her puffy lips forced Abby to realise that, no, she hadn’t interrupted her with someone else, she’d woken her up, which somehow made her feel worse.

“Abby?”

“Sorry, uh, is this a bad time?” She shifted her weight back and forth nervously. 

“No, I was just–no, it’s not,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, “You’ve been avoiding me. Again.”

“I know,” Abby frowned, “I’m sorry. For everything. You have every right to be mad at me–fuck, you have every right to never wanna talk to me again, but I just have to let you know how sorry I am and how much you mean to me.”

Y/n shifted her gaze to the floor for a moment before nodding, glancing back up at Abby and stepping back to open the door wider, “Wanna come in?”

Abby nodded eagerly, stepping inside with caution. She glanced around, taking in the small changes that had been made since she’d last been here. Y/n bedroom was, well, hardly even a bedroom. It was about the size of a large broom closet, just enough room to jam two twin beds and two small dressers inside, though she and her roommate had taken the initiative to make it somewhat cosy inside. Thankfully, the second bed was empty that night, meaning that she didn’t have to hold back.

“Wanna sit?” Y/n motioned to the foot of her bed as she took a seat near the headboard. 

“Uh,” Abby glanced down at her dirty attire, “I shouldn't. Sorry, I didn’t even change before I came here–fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Y/n shook her head, “Hey, it’s okay, Abs. We can sit on the floor?”

The blonde’s shoulders loosened at the use of that nickname, almost like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she lowered herself to sit directly across from Y/n on the carpeted floor. 

It was quiet for a beat, both of the girls sitting in silence as they watched, both anxiously waiting to see who would speak first. 

“Did you mean it?” Y/n was the first to crack.

“Did I mean…”

“You know what I’m talking about. You were drunk, but you avoided me like a clicker, Abby, so please don’t play dumb and just talk to me.”

Abby cleared her throat, “Yes. I meant it.”

Y/n let out a heavy breath, and Abby couldn’t tell if she was relieved or even more upset with her answer, “Okay, so you meant it. But why couldn’t you just tell me that? You knew how I felt about you when we first met, but you told me you weren’t interested so that was that.”

Abby shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. When we first met, I was…still dealing with how things ended with Owen. I was angry and hurt, and I really thought I would never get over it. But then, after a little while, I started to realise that I wasn’t heartbroken over him, I was angry that he and Mel didn’t have the decency to talk to me before they started fucking behind my back.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded, “But after that? Is it some kind of internalised homophobic shit going on? If it is, you could’ve talked to me about it, I could’ve helped you.”

“It’s not that. It wasn’t that I was scared or ashamed of myself, it was that I didn’t even really think about it, I guess. Then, when I finally did, you were with Samyah, and then that ended and you were so upset, and that got me thinking that…I don’t know, what if I was the same as her? What if I was just wanting to experiment? I didn’t wanna talk to you about it because I didn’t wanna lose you, and I didn’t want you to think that I was the same as her,” Abby could feel her eyes stinging from the sudden onset of tears, “And then by the time I realised that that wasn’t the case, you were already with Reagan.”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but Abby cut her off.

“I know, you’re with her, and if that’s what you want, then that’s fine. I want you to be happy. But I can’t leave here knowing that I didn’t tell you that I am in love with you, so much that I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

Y/n didn’t answer, not verbally. Instead, she threw herself across the room, clambering into Abby’s lap and messily pressing her lips against hers. Abby was quick to reciprocate, her lips moving against hers steadily and conforming the once sloppy movements into a more slow and rhythmic embrace. Her arms moved to wrap around her waist, palms sliding up and down her back greedily as Y/n gently took Abby’s flushed cheeks into her own hands. 

When they finally pulled away, they both broke into wide grins, leaning in to peck each other once more. 

“Reagan and I aren’t together. I guess I was just on the rebound and she was looking for a fling, but it’s over.” Y/n whispered, “ I love you too, so much that I do know what to do with myself.”

Abby laughed, eyes trailing down her body and finally settling on the dirt and mud and blood that had transferred from her own dirty clothes to Y/n’s. 

“Shit, sorry, got you kinda dirty.”

Y/n glanced down at herself, then shrugged with a sly glint in her eye, “It’s okay. It just means that we’re both gonna have to go shower before bed, right?”

Abby stared at her in awe for a moment, brain finally catching up to her words as she jumped to her feet, hauling Y/n up into her arms as she began a quick march in the direction of the women’s showers, the otherwise quiet hallway being disturbed by Y/n’s squeal of surprise and laughter as the tall blonde carried her. 

Though the laughter was certainly more bearable to the surrounding rooms than the sounds that echoed from the showers over the next hour, though Abby couldn’t find a single ounce of concern for the others in the moment, just glad that she was finally able to hold and touch and kiss Y/n, just like real people do.

[hedgehog-moss]

The Great Jungle Fence of ‘23

A majority of you poll-voters expressed the opinion that my fence would stop Pampe for 4 to 7 days and I am very touched by this popular endorsement of my fence-building skills, because her first escape happened after roughly 4 hours.

^ Pampe connoisseurs will know that her preferred way of defeating fences is by karate-chopping them with her neck, but I thought she could only do that if the fence was low enough for her to put some strength in the chop. The jungle fence was at least as tall as Pampe in the place where I found it all droopy-sad after she escaped, so I guess Pampe added a new jump-chop combo attack to her character sheet. I imagine it went something like this:

That’s okay! All new information about Pampe is carefully filed and will contribute to the creation of the Ultimate Fence. I decided to simply make this portion of the fence unneckchoppable by braiding branches from nearby trees into the fence like they did in Indonesia with that living bridge made by knitting the roots of two banyan trees. I ended up using five or six branches so it’d be solid enough, but here’s a pic of the beginning of the process:

The braided-branch part of the fence still stands undefeated, after 20 days. Pampe ate all the leaves but couldn’t get rid of the branches and had to concede this battleground.

I then found her staring pensively (worryingly) at another potential weak point of the fence: the gate. I used a standard wood pallet at first, tied to trees, but it wasn’t very high. I couldn’t add another pallet on top of it because that would make it inoperable as a door, so I went to explore the barn, which like all barns is full of dusty treasures. What object do I own that’s like a pallet, but much taller?

!!

A slatted bed base. Once tied to a tree it swings open easily, but it was an awful chore to carry it all the way across the pasture, I had to wait for a weekend when my mum was going to visit me. That conversation went like:

Me: Do you remember that old bed in the barn? Can you help me carry it (well part of it) across the pasture? Mum: Why on earth Me: Pampe. Fence. Mum: That’s a good reason

I was very proud of my new, impassable gate, but Pampe was weirdly nowhere to be seen as I was setting it up. Usually she’s here carefully observing over my shoulder when I add a new element to a fence, so that was alarming.

In a flash of insight I realised I had been tricked; she’d never had any intention of jumping over the pallet gate. Too easy, too predictable. She’d only examined the gate to scare me into trying to solve this non-problem and force me to use my only trump card (I don’t have several old beds in the barn), and meanwhile she’d gone and jumped over a different pallet in a different part of the fence.

That other pallet had a sheep netting stretched above it, so that a) I thought it was unjump-able, b) Pampe thought it was a more amusing challenge. Poor Baby Poldine was a bit distraught; she clearly didn’t dare to jump to follow her mum but she didn’t want to be left behind once again, so she tried to slip through the net, but that didn’t work either.

Poldine made a baa noise like a traumatised baby goat and Pampe grudgingly turned back to go bump noses with her through the fence, it was a cute mother-daughter moment.

I added a new length of wire mesh (see pink arrow in the below pic) above the pallet to discourage further jumping, and my mum went “So you can remove the sheep netting and use it elsewhere” and I was like, what, no! Do you think they remove parts of the fence every time a Jurassic Park dinosaur escapes? That makes no sense. I’m only going to add more elements to this fence. Forever and ever or until it works.

Pirlouit, a law-abiding animal with very modest fence needs, was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.

Also—for once, Pampe didn’t look annoyed about being escorted back where I wanted her to be, she was kind of bouncy and looked immensely entertained by all this.

I’ll spare you the details but she escaped again, this time by lifting the bottom of the fence in a place where it was weighed down with a crossbar, which she broke in two with the power of her neck. That was easy to fix; instead of a wooden crossbar I weighed down the base of the fence with massive rocks. Go ahead and neck chop those, Pampe. But this time around it had taken me forever to find the spot where she escaped, so I decided to make things easier for myself in the future—I cordoned off the area just outside the fence with police tape between trees, along the whole length of it. This way I’ll see easily where she escaped—the tape is very flimsy and I crisscrossed it in places, so she shouldn’t be able to get past it without breaking it.

... So I suppose I’ll have to start the next post with “You’ll never guess what I caught Pampe doing last night” and a photo of her like

Anyway, Pampe looked unamused this time.

Well, that’s all. For now. Pampérigouste is back in the lawful enclosure with her family and we are waiting for her next move. Here’s a photo of her alone in the unallowed half of her pasture the other evening, contemplating her freedom

[vampiricgf]

Home Is Where the Heart Is

stepdad leon kennedy x stepdaughter reader

wc: 2k+

warnings: stepcest, masturbation, fingering, intoxication, creampie, hickies, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl), reader is in their twenties but he's older

I need him so bad somebody has to step up and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart or something before I become completely delusional

You sigh as the door clicks behind you, the final death kneel of yet another failed, miserable date. The sound of low, canned tv voices drifts from the living room and you feel yourself deflate even further, not wanting to have to go through the motions of telling your stepfather about yet another boring, unfulfilling date. 

Maybe I should just throw my phone in a fucking river and become a crazy hermit-

“Hey, you just get in from the date?” His voice reaches you from around the corner in the foyer and there's no avoiding it. Time to tell him yet again that his step child has basically zero prospects and is doomed to be living here until she’s an ancient crone. Surely he’ll be thrilled about the idea of having to support you forever. 

“Yeah, it was fine.” You shrug, leaning against the wooden open frame of the archway as he meets your gaze and your bag drops from your loose grasp to rest against the wood flooring. He's unfocused, a little disheveled. 

Looks like we’ve both had shit nights if hes already drinking. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he gives you a sympathetic expression, “but plenty of fish in the sea, right?” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You sigh, turning to make way for the stairs, for the refuge of your bedroom and a few solid hours of unconsciousness where you could pretend you weren’t an embarrassing, lonely burden. “Good night, dad.” 

“Night hon,” you hear from behind you as you ascend to the second floor, debating on if you should wash your face or if you could get away with skipping it for at least tonight. 

Plenty of fish in the sea, yeah easy for him to say. Even if it had always felt weird you knew your stepfather was attractive, good looking and a little mysterious with the whole government agent thing. Not even you really knew the specifics, weren’t sure if even your own mother had known at all before her passing. The sudden thought of her makes your throat tighten up and you decide that yes, you can skip the stupid skincare tonight because sometimes you just have to lay in bed miserable for a bit. 

Maybe masturbating will help, at the very least it’ll get you closer to being exhausted enough to pass out and if Leon is downstairs you don’t have to be as paranoid about noise like you are most nights. 

As you flop against the plush surface of your bed once the door shuts behind you your hand fumbles blindly at the nightstand on your right, searching for the drawer handle. With a huff you prop up on your elbow, yanking it open to reveal the sight of a sleek, glass dildo. It had been a treat purchase, something to reliably cheer you up on nights like this, of which there had been more than you cared to admit to yourself. The only thing you were really sad about, as you peeled off your shirt and slid down your jeans, was that you wasted a nice matching underwear set on no one. 

Eyes closed you let your mind drift as your hands run over your own skin, touching and teasing in just the way you enjoy, already biting your lip at the prospect of wearing yourself out on the little glass toy. But as your fingers brush over the dampness of your underwear, legs spread, you can’t help the way your mind drifts back to him. Your stepfather, all dirty blonde hair and eyes like the tides. It wasn’t fair. If you weren’t related by marriage he would be the type you’d be salivating over, desperate to drag into bed just to let him-

You failed to hear his footsteps on the stairs, failed to hear the doorknob being gripped and the heavy wood being swung open until it was too late. With a strangled cry you scramble back, hands pressed uselessly to your heaving chest, legs squeezed together and eyes wild as you stare at him in the doorway, holding your bag you’d left sitting in the open archway. 

“Oh my god dad-”

“I’m sorry, sorry, you left this and I, I figured you’d want it.” his voice trails weakly, lame, as his eyes look everywhere but at you and your skin burns with embarrassment and something else that makes your ribs feel like they’re being crushed. The secret shame of the fact that you’d been about to finger yourself to the thought of him and now here he is, in the flesh.

“Thanks but can you get out, like right now?” 

Despite your attempt at firmness the words fall flat somehow, betrayed by your still present desire and you can feel it. Feel the way his eyes now stick to you like your body is made of gummy taffy and he’s helplessly caught in the trap of it. The silence extends, growing heavy on the strange tension now gathering in the air like storm clouds. Your nerves are alight in a way that you can only describe as primal, high strung and waiting for some sign, some movement to indicate where this is going because suddenly you’re aware that you’re not the only one in control of it. 

“You’re too good for any of those guys anyway,” he speaks like a man deprived of water for hours, slightly hoarse and you can’t help the little shiver that quakes down your spine at the compliment. 

“Thanks, but… I didn’t mean for you to, you know, see.” 

“I’m sorry,” and hes stepping across the threshold and you know, you know this is descending into dangerous territory. The sort of thing you can’t come back from once it’s started. You feel your lip wobble, feel the familiar sting of tears about to gather in your waterline though from the humiliation or not is unclear. What is clear is that your stepfather at least has a semi at the moment, the slight bulge in his pants stroking your ego. “I could help you, if you want?”

You can hear it, naked desperation, and not for the first time you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You know it’s been hard, lonely, after all this time and not just for you and it’s like your body is suddenly attached to marionette strings, shyly nodding your head and uncurling from yourself. It’s strange, being so conscious now of the underwear you have on and the fact that you’d used a little of that sparkling dust stuff that makes skin look just an extra bit more tempting when it’s on display. 

You wonder if he’s ever thought of you before now, in this way. 

He lifts one knee, moving slowly, pressing down on the mattress next to your trembling legs, and his eyes don’t stop wandering your face, searching for any sign you’ve changed your mind before completely kneeling between your legs that have practically spread themselves. As one of his palms meets the blazing flesh of your thigh you can’t help the gasp that escape you, the way you reflexively move your arms to hug yourself, hide yourself again. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he says it like he’s soothing an anxiety ridden animal but it helps, the familiar affection of his voice immediately making your muscles relax minisculely. “It’s just you and me.”

And those words, just you and me, speak to the now overblown need pooling in your belly and you can’t help the way you unfurl for him, like some night blooming flower with all of it’s most tender parts exposed. The air feels balmy and thick against your skin as his hands, both now grasping your legs, run up and down your thighs in a relaxing rhythm. 

You watch as his eyes flick down to your underwear, you can feel how damp they are and you bite your lip as you see his posture shift as he takes in the sight of your barely clothed pussy, needy and already soaking the thin material. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks as one index finger starts tracing the hemmed edge of them, barely touching where you ache for him to put his fingers. Your hips squirm in response, trying to move so that his touch will land where you need it. But he can see what you’re doing and evades your attempts, making you whine. 

“If you want me to touch you, you gotta answer.”

“Was thinking about you,” you trail off, hesitant, “I wondered if you think about me.”

Finally he gives you what you want, running his finger over your slit , pressing down right on your throbbing clit just hard enough to make you gasp, your back arching ever so slightly against the mattress. “Shit, you’re so wet.”

He doesn’t answer you and you don’t need him to, already knowing the answer would be that he has and it makes smug satisfaction practically ooze from your body as you preen under his touch. Those calloused, thick fingers slipping past the barrier of your panties, making your mouth drop open and loosely you can recognize that the situation is beyond fucked, getting fingered by your stepfather isn’t something you can just come back from when daylight breaks as if it had never occurred but for now, none of that really matters. 

All that matters is the way his fingers slip inside you so easily, curling just right against your slick walls before pumping in and out, a steady pace as his other hand rubs circles against your hip to calm your twitchy muscles. The sounds of your harsh breathing and the faintly wet squelching of your pussy makes you lightheaded, delirium dripping down the back of your throat and acting like lighter fluid for the kindling of lust inside your gut. 

It feels like you’re being scorched, branded, from the inside out as the pace of his fingers gets more rapid, his thumb pressing against your clit to make you see stars behind your squeezed shut eyes. 

You can hear yourself babbling but it feels distant, far away and dreamlike as the tether between brain and body gets yanked tighter and tighter with each pass of his fingers, unrelenting even as you writhe and gasp against the sheets. 

“Kiss me,” you manage to squeeze the demand from your lungs and he’s quick to oblige, not leave his little girl begging. As your lips pressed together in a mess of rushed teeth clicking and spit slicked movement you feel him pull his fingers from you, hurriedly pulling down his waistband just enough for his cock to spring free. 

And you’re so eager for him, hand snaking down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his shaft and the moment you do he buries his face against the side of your neck with a groan, hips jerking as your thumb smears the fat beads of precum over the tip that you’re sure must be all flushed, a pretty shade of pink. His other hand is pulling your panties to the side and you know what he’s asking for without a word, rubbing the tip through your wetness as he shudders against you, teeth scraping the delicate skin of your throat. 

Feeling bold you angle your hips upward at just the moment when he moves his hips to push through your folds, but the motion makes his tip push deliciously against your entrance, the slide made effortless by the way he’d worked your pussy just moments ago. 

The feeling of it, being so completely full of him, the way he crowded every sense from sight to sound to touch was transendant. Rapturous, like being made whole after not even realizing you’d been incomplete, not realizing there was an entire missing piece. 

And suddenly any remaining guilt you felt for this vanished, dissipated like a wisp of smoke being blown away from a freshly extinguished candle. All that mattered in the world was the present moment, the two of you in this bed and your eyes rolling back as your spine arched at the feeling of him bottoming out inside you, the way he sucked at your neck in between little nips from his incisors. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped against you, moving from yout neck to your lips as his hips began to move, caging your head with his forearms. 

You can’t make your mouth form words, tongue feeling heavy and useless as a wad of cotton in your mouth as you moan in response, fingers twisting into the material of his shirt as you urge him on and the edges of your mind fray with every hit of his tip against the spot you can usually only reach with the dildo in your bedside drawer. 

His rhythm is sloppy, nonsensical, but you don’t mind, not when your own fingers are circling your clit just the way you like and you can feel yourself tightening around him, feel the way your bodys pulling him back in voraciously. This was what you needed, not some random asshole from an app that wouldn’t be able to fuck you half as well, no. A part of you always knew your stepfather would take better care of you, he always has. 

“Want you to come inside, please,” you whine out and hear his little oh fuck muffled against your mouth as you swallowed down his groans like they were the finest vintage as your own orgasm rushed in, like high tide when you least expect it, flooding the shoreline in a relentless barrage. It’s not hard to tell he’s particularly powerless against the way your pussy squeezes around him, growing ever tighter like you’re trying to wring every drop from his body and gives it to you readily, eagerly, with one last harsh thrust before his balls rest heavily against your ass and hes panting, struggling for breath against you as you feel warmth spreading, flooding hot and sticky inside as you two stay locked together. 

When the sun comes up, maybe you’ll feel a modicum of shame for what happened but in this moment all you can feel is a boneless type of bliss as his arms slide underneath you, hold you tight against him in a perverse pantomime of a hug with his cock still inside you as he mumbles into your hair. 

“You’re such a good girl, always been my good girl.”

[d1xonss]

Hey have a great day! 🫶🏻🪻Could you write about Reader who lives in Alexandria when The group first were brought by Aaron.Daryl noticing the resemblance between him and reader being distant from actual citizens in Alexandria and not wanting to participate in parties or fun always going out from the gates to forest.Reader also has a huge scar on her eye something like Carl’s. Daryl making her feel beautiful showing each other their scars and fluffy ending

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2k

AN ~ Me actually finishing a request that’s been sitting in my drafts forever?? Everyone clap😌. No but seriously, I'm proud of myself for finally getting this done, I hope it was worth the wait and you guys enjoy it. xoxox

You were the first person he noticed. That’s what he thought anyway. He wasn’t focused on the new houses, the strong walls, or the many unrealistic luxuries the new community provided. His curiosity solely remained on you from the very first moment he could remember.

You were different from the other people who lived in the area. Whilst they were all warm and welcoming the second he and his family stepped through the gates, you didn’t seem the least bit interested in their arrival. Though you were still present, watching from a distance as you absorbed the new faces, yet you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to greet them properly. He remembered how you stood on the porch of your house, your arms folded over your chest as you eyed everyone somewhat suspiciously. He remembered how your gaze seemed to linger on Carl and Judith, noting the two kids that needed a place like this to be safe.

But the thing he would surely never forget, was when he first spotted your scar. From a distance even, he could make out the shape of a long, crooked gash that traveled from the middle of your forehead and down toward your eye, stopping in the area right above your cheek. It was prominent, noticeable from even a hundred feet away, and something that surely was proof that you had been through a lot. Though even if you didn’t have any evidence on your skin, Daryl could still tell from your weariness that life outside of these walls wasn’t all that generous to you. Just as it hadn’t been for him.

Weeks seemed to pass by, and he still didn’t even know your name. Yet he was very observant whenever he managed to spot you walking down the streets of Alexandria, almost as if he had a sixth sense like he knew you were near. Most of the time he would just watch you, curious and hesitant, not looking to bother you though he couldn’t help but be intrigued. However, he picked up a pattern in your routine, noting that around the same time everyday you would leave the community to head off into the woods. For hours you would just disappear, not coming back until the sun was starting to cast an orange and pink glow to the sky. 

Though every time you would return, you came back with nothing. Not an animal, not a single can of food, nothing. It confused Daryl slightly, wondering what it was you did out there for the entire day only to come back empty handed.

He felt drawn to you, relating in a way that the others couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Whether you knew it or not, the two of you seemed to have a lot in common, not even needing to be on speaking terms to know that for a fact. Both quiet and reserved with a harsh past, not liking to interact much with others seeing as you hardly left your home, other than to head off into the forest day after day. The wilderness alone seemed to be something you both enjoyed as well. Perhaps you also liked to hunt, or maybe you also had a love for bikes and trinkets. Daryl didn’t know for sure, but one of these days, he wanted to find out.

The man wasn’t good with words, which was why it had taken him so long to build up the courage to speak to you in the first place. But when he spotted you sitting near the pond, reading a book he was surprisingly familiar with…he took a chance. For the first time in his life it seemed like, he threw caution to the wind and decided to go through with it before he changed his mind.

His hands clenched and unclenched nervously with each step he took to approach you, not even fully knowing what to say once he got there. He racked his brain over and over again as you were just a few feet away now, but ultimately he ended up with nothing, now awkwardly just standing in front of the bench you sat at.

But sensing his presence, you looked up from the pages to see him lingering near, his heart doing a flip in his chest. You were…beautiful. He had never really seen you up close until this very moment, but now that he had, it was like he never wanted to look away. He could see the gold flakes in your eyes, the freckles that were scattered all over your face, and lastly…the scar that was embedded in your flesh. But it didn’t bother him at all. In fact…he liked it.

A sheepish, lopsided smile crossed his face as he nervously ran a hand over the back of his neck, “Hey…”

He watched as you slowly smiled back at him, setting your book off to the side, something he didn’t necessarily expect. But you had a certain look to your expression, telling him that you had been wanting to seek him out just as much as he did you.

“Hi…” your voice spoke softly.

And from that point on, he was hooked.

The two of you had grown to be insuperable, which was somewhat of a shock to the rest of the community seeing as neither of you really liked anyone. But with each other, it was somehow different. Like there was an understanding there. You could be sat in comfortable silence without really being alone, enjoying each other's presence even if you didn’t have the energy to fill the quiet. Or you could have company when going on small runs or hunting trips, which Daryl ultimately found out you liked to do. Or there would be times where neither of you could seem to shut up, bouncing stories back and forth as you shared a bottle of whiskey which also helped loosen the tongue.

But the bottom line was, you were happy. For the first time in your life, you finally felt like you had found your person. A soulmate you didn’t even know existed, yet he seemed to fall right into your lap.

Though one afternoon, Daryl noticed you were a bit quieter than usual. At first he didn’t think much of it as he assumed you didn’t feel like talking much that day. But the longer he observed you, the more he could sense that something was wrong, that something might’ve been bugging you. And the truth was he was right, something had been bothering you. But you would rather die than bring it up to him.

Your voice filled the silence of the forest as the two of you sat in the grass of the clearing, reading aloud from the book that was propped up in your hands. Daryl observed you as he laid on his back, one arm placed underneath his head as the other drew absentminded circles up and down your arm. He usually wasn’t one for physical touch, in fact most of the time he cringed at the thought. But again, with you, it was different. He felt comfortable enough to be open and vulnerable with you, just as you were with him. Or so he thought until he slowly came to the realization that you were clearly keeping something from him.

Once you finished the chapter and closed the book to set aside, he let the silence linger for a moment before he spoke quietly, “You okay?”

You looked down at him, forcing a small smile, “Yeah…I’m fine. Why?”

He tilted his head, “Come on. Ya know you can talk to me bout anythin.” he said as he slowly sat up to scoot beside you, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A soft sigh left your lips, “I’m fine.” you repeated.

“Yer a terrible liar.” he retorted, though he didn’t push much further. He knew if you wanted to tell him, you would, and he didn’t want to make you uneasy by bringing up the subject over and over again. He just worried about you, being someone he cared about deeply, it came at a price of some heavy protectiveness.

You slowly shook your head as you looked down at the few wildflowers in front of you, “Just…one of those days.” you admitted quietly.

His heart sank a little as he knew what you meant by that. There were times where you would get down in the dumps about yourself, feeling a bit more insecure than usual. It was something common, hell he even knew the feeling himself, but it still hurt to see. Especially when he couldn’t wrap his head around it; to him you were the most stunning person in the entire world.

After a moment he gently reached out to take your chin in his grasp, turning your face so you would look at him. His eyes studied you, his thumb moving up to trace the line of your scar, the same insecurity that your mind seemed to linger on the most.

“Yer beautiful.” he said softly.

You huffed quietly with a slight roll of your eyes, clearly trying to brush off his comment as if it didn’t register or matter to you. “M’ serious.” he tried again.

“Well, I don’t feel beautiful.” you gently argued, “Everyone always stares…like this is the only thing they can see when they look at me.” you said quietly as you gestured to the thing marking your flesh.

He tilted his head a little as he took in your words, knowing where you were coming from as it couldn’t be easy having to deal with that every single day. But somehow he wanted to prove how special you were, how breathtaking you were in his eyes, how he hardly even focused on your flaws. Because to him, your “flaws” were only what made you more perfect to him.

“You wanna know how I see ya?”

You tilted your head at him, as if you knew his answer would make you cry and gag at the same time as affection was still something you were getting used to. Though at the same time, you wanted to hear.

“I see ya as someone who’s got the biggest heart the world has ever seen. I see ya…as someone brave, and smart…and stubborn as all hell.” he listed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the last one, knowing it was true.

“But mostly…when I look at you, I see the most beautiful person I ever laid my eyes on.”

The sincerity in his voice was enough to cause a lump to form in your throat, knowing that he meant every word. He truly cared about you, he had proved that time and time again since you had met him. Honestly, you didn’t know what you did to deserve someone who cared about you so dearly, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take it for granted. Not now, not ever.

“I know it’s not an easy thing to get past…shit, m’ still self conscious about my own demons sometimes. But whenever ya start to feel like this…I just want ya to know I’ll always be there to reassure ya. Alright?”

You slowly nodded your head, leaning forward to wrap your arms around him in a hug, sighing at the feeling of his touch. His hands gently gripped your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, willing to hold you for as long as you needed. Willing to tell you however many times you needed to hear it, just how special and important you were. He wanted to make sure you felt loved, knowing that you hadn’t received much of that in your past. It was like he wanted to heal your inner child, just like you were doing for him.

“I…” you started to say, but the words seemed to get lodged in your throat, not fully knowing how to express yourself comfortably.

But Daryl just tightened his grip on you, “I know…me too.”

~ Thanks for reading! (And for your patience)