*licks orange*

Title: Just Purr-fect
A/N: i finally wrote something for the cat au ayyyye

Three.  Three cats. Thomas had three cats when he wanted only one.


Granted, Logan originally was meant to be an only cat. He was the lone calm cat sitting by a window at the shelter, and was the only one to headbutt Thomas’s hand when he presented it.

Roman came next, soaking wet and covered in cardboard when he scratched at the door in the middle of a thunderstorm.  The tiger stripe kitten barely weighed anything and sucked down a bottle of kitten formula and asked for more when Thomas gave it to him.

Patton came last, but he came by Thomas’s own choice.  The kitten claimed him when he went over to Talyn’s house and the rest was history.  Thomas loved all three of them, and they were completely adorable, but come on!  Three?!

Thomas couldn’t help but still have these thoughts four months after getting Patton.  He grabbed three cans of food from the designated Cat Food Cabinet and popped the tops off, emptying the contents into any of the three bowls.  Logan always used the green bowl with the fish on it while Roman preferred the red one that was shaped like a cat head and Patton used the yellow one with cats and yarn balls on it.

The sound of cans opening was enough to call the cats. Logan could be heard hopping down from his fish tank viewing spot and Roman darted in from Thomas’s bedroom. But…Patton didn’t come running? Furrowing his brow, Thomas went to the door and opened it up, thinking he’d forgotten about letting Pat go outside.

He spotted a flash of yellow across the street and sighed in relief.  “Pat! Patpatpatpatpat!  Food time!”

The cat let out a meow and came jogging across the street with…something in his mouth.  

“No!  Drop whatever that is, Pat!  No kills in the h-“  Thomas stopped short when he realized what exactly was in Patton’s mouth: a little black kitten.  Patton gingerly set the kitten down at Thomas’s feet, sitting back and staring up at his human before letting out a drawn-out meow.  

Thomas picked up the kitten, checking it over.  The kitten cried when he touched it’s backleg, recoiling and stretching out the other direction.  Thomas gave a coo and held the kitten to his chest, shooing Patton inside and slamming the door shut as he headed to his car.

Four!  Four cats! Thomas had four cats, now, and one had a cast on its hindleg!  

“OK, in the crate you go…” Thomas said as sweetly as he could, gently placing the little black kitten inside the crate he’d just bought. Inside, he’d laid down a fleece blanket, a cotton baby blanket, a small, shallow box to act as a litterbox, and a small woven basket of plush toys and jingly bells.  

The kitten cried out when Thomas set him down, making the man fear he’d hurt him.  But, once sat down, the kitten slunk over to the corner of the crate and laid down, glaring at Thomas.  

“I know, I know, that’s gotta be embarrassing…” Thomas said with a snicker.  He stood up and tried to shut the door, but was cut off by the quick flash of orange. “Pat, no!”  

Patton sniffed the kitten’s bandages and nudged the leg with his nose, making the kitten retract its foot.  With that, Patton laid down.

“Patton, I know you wanna help, but the kitten needs to rest…” Thomas tried to reason, reaching in and pulling out the cat.  “Go sit with Lo or go find Ro…”

Patton let out a pitiful mew and slunk along the side of the crate, eyeing Thomas the whole time as he sat down beside the kitten and flopped on his side.  Thomas side and shook his head, leaving Pat to his own devices.  

Later that evening, Thomas found Patton exactly where he’d left him.  The kitten, however, had moved.  And the basket.  

Toys were strewn about the crate, and the basket was on its side with the kitten curled up inside.  The basket was dragged close to the walls of the crate, just close enough that one of Patton’s paws could reach inside and hold down the handle.  

The sight was so precious, but it had to be disturbed. So, with the pop of a can, Patton jumped up and followed Thomas into the kitchen.  Once all three cats were fed, Thomas prepared a bottle of formula. Apparently, the little kitten wasn’t even five weeks old.

Bottle feeding a kitten was difficult.  Bottle feeding a kitten with a broken leg?  Nearly impossible.  

“Sit…sit still…please, stay still.  You need – you need foo – You little!”

The kitten darted around the table.  He was surprisingly fast for having to drag a cast.  Thomas snatched him by the scruff and plopped him on his belly, holding on gently to the neck.  He’d only done this a few times, so each time was difficult. Nevertheless, Thomas pushed the bottle to the kitten’s mouth and…


“You know, you have to put forth some effort, now.”



“Any day, now.”

The kitten eyed him, a look that Thomas would call a glare on his face.  Groaning, Thomas gently squeezed the bottle’s sides to make some of the liquid come out. He ran his thumb over the kitten’s throat to make him swallow, and slowly but surely, the bottle’s contents started to go down.

“You’re gonna be impossible, aren’t you?”

The kitten started to purr, slowly blinking.  He finally started to latch on to the bottle when Patton jumped up on the table.  Patton laid down and propped himself up against Thomas’s arm, rolling on his back and rubbing his head on the man’s arm.  

“In a minute, buddy,” Thomas said, dipping down quickly to kiss the cat’s head.  

Finally done with the bottle, Thomas got up to get a towel. The kitten was such a messy eater; he was covered in formula.  But, when Thomas turned back to clean the cat, Patton was doing that job for him. The kitten mewed and cried gently, raising a paw to grab ahold of Patton as the orange cat licked him clean.

“Alright, that’ll work,” Thomas said with a laughed, reaching down to pet them both.  He sat down and pet the two cats, rolling his eyes when Roman hopped up and demanded attention as well.  He looked at the kitten and watched him swat at Roman and roll around.  “…You’re gonna need a name…”

The name “Virgil” came to mind, and when Thomas spoke it, the kitten sneezed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Virgil sneezed once more.

Tag List: @undertakershairline @mewsicalmiss @romananalogicality @rose-gold-roman @thegoldenmink @the-prince-and-the-emo @theawesomestofsauces @jellyjam24 @all-da-fandoms @the-sanders-sides @amazable01 @milk-withtwosugars @bbcanimefangirl @analogically-prinxiety @asexual-trashbag @calz-craze @gayfagg @gracefullyinsanedancingunicorn @phandemoniumclub @virgils-anxiety @natalie-wheres-the-tampons @hrtnsolofytube @greymane902 @ashrain5 @fandom-screamings @mira-jadeamethyst @cefmua56 @colie7700 @madd-catter @leesacrakon @a-blog-just-for-sanders @doesdanielhowelisgay @viva-la-nordics @just-fic-me-up @justanotherpurplebutterfly @thebeautyofthomas @emo-space-trash @i-prayed-to-you-cas @satisfied-sanders-sides @virgilient @thebaagelboy @tree4life25 @virgils-hoodie @questionmenot @fandomsandanythingelse @ireblogstuff-andineedalife @shimmerthenerd @beholdagay 

@silly-aesthetic-me @the-sides-of-patton (since you guys liked the original post so much i’m tagging you too)

how that dinner should continue if not for that impending fight

anon prompted a candle lit dinner and this seemed fitting. also everyone is very open and honest in this fic (lookin at u alec) and no one has any reason to lie to anyone (alec take some notes) so they just enjoy a nice meal together cool ty enjoy.

(also sorry it’s been a while but i’ve been sorting out my uni timetable for next sem and it is a fuckin nightmare)

Alec picked the piece of lobster off of the fork Magnus was holding out to him with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. Magnus looked at him strangely and chuckled with a raised eyebrows. Alec quickly swallowed and looked at Magnus.“What?” he asked, apprehensively.

Magnus shook his head and shrugged. “Nothing.”

Alec raised one eyebrow and pushed his leg against Magnus’ under the table. “Hey!” he exclaimed, expecting an answer from Magnus.

Magnus sighed. “It was pointed at your mouth for a reason,” he finally replied. Alec realised what Magnus was saying and smirked. He put down his fork and shifted his body to properly face his boyfriend. He sat low in his chair and looked up at Magnus. The man rolled his eyes as Alec’s behaviour reminded him of a little child, but smiled nonetheless. He held out another piece of the lobster out to Alec and watched as he eyed it and looked back up at Magnus.

He leaned in and didn’t seem to break eye contact while eating the food off the fork. Magnus felt his stomach churn in an unexpected way as he watched Alec chew and swallow. “Happy?” asked Alec, sarcastically, as he leaned back in his chair.

Magnus let out a huff and turned back to his plate. “Shut up,” he said and Alec couldn’t help but chuckle. Magnus took a bite of his food before turning his attention back to Alec. “How was your day?” he asked in a soft voice.

Alec shrugged and sighed. The mountains of paperwork had become an almost daily thing and Alec didn’t feel like elaborating on how much he hated it. He had even tired Magnus out by now through his constant complaining. “Not fun,” he huffed and took a large gulp of his champagne. “Especially since my dad is back in town.”

Magnus looked up. “How are things with him?” he asked. Alec immediately tensed up. He didn’t know how to answer that question because truth was, he didn’t know where they stood. Instead, he just shrugged.

“It’s hard not to pick sides. I mean, he’s the reason I’m still the Head of the Institute,” he said. It made him uncomfortable how he felt weirdly thankful that his father had been the Clave envoy. He was pretty much the last person Alec would have wanted to see but he had helped him. “But he hurt my mum,” Alec continued and Magnus nodded, understanding his boyfriend’s predicament. “I thought he loved her,” said Alec, almost like an afterthought and almost in dismissal.

Magnus didn’t doubt that Robert had loved Maryse, but he understood love better than Alec. He reached out and slipped his hand into Alec’s that rested on the table between them. Magnus squeezed Alec’s fingers and sent him a reassuring smile. “My parents weren’t around for long,” said Magnus and he felt a lump growing in his throat. It surprised him just how emotional this topic still made him. “But if there’s anything they taught me, it’s that sometimes loves isn’t enough.”

Alec had his eyes trained on Magnus’ and frowned at the man’s words. His eyes shifted between Magnus’ in hopes to find something other than the immense sadness he suddenly felt himself. Alec’s grip tightened around Magnus’ and he smiled back in a way that put Alec at ease.

“It took me a while, but I’ve been able to let go a lot of the hate I initially felt for them.” Magnus reached out his other hand and curled it around the back of Alec’s neck, his thumb caressing the boy’s cheek. Alec closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Everything will be okay, yeah?”

Alec nodded, a hand going up to grip Magnus’ wrist, keeping it there. He pulled on Magnus’ hand on the table and quickly leaned forward to kiss him. Magnus responded almost immediately, leaning back in his chair as Alec pushed him further back. Alec pulled away slightly to collect his breath and Magnus looked at him with hooded eyes and an indescribable look of desire.

Alec felt his mouth run dry as he looked at Magnus and tried to soak in every bit of him possible. Magnus here and now, in this candle light, licks of orange flickering against the gold flecks in his eyes and the glitter under his eyelashes. The soft glow of the entire room was enough to warm both of their hearts but each other’s presence helped too.

Magnus swallowed hard and couldn’t help but lean in to kiss Alec again; the feeling that flowed through his body from sheer contact alone left him on a natural high. They pulled apart again after only a few seconds, grins plastered on their faces that neither could wipe away.

Alec sneaked a glance at Magnus who was now intently staring at the bubbles rising in his drink. Just as Alec looked back at his food, Magnus let out a soft laugh and Alec couldn’t help but do the same as he took a bite of the lobster.

They had been so transfixed in each other’s company that neither of them noticed Robert stop by the doorway for a few minutes before walking away with a smile yet an unsettling feeling in his chest.

i hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think! if you have any prompts or scenarios for me, please head over to my ask box.

in the meantime, yes, alec, your boyfriend can take you down any day.


Red whispered like the aches in my joints
the throbbing of blue yonder
shhh! to the smothering of my black glow
I listened to the fire licking orange delight –
extend me your whiteness, 

I saw yellow banging in the distance
I felt your feet dancing, 
green like the coat of Scleranthus biflorus

My day has arrived with limestone in its pocket
it reminded me of how I’ve loved seven in her indigo dress
where purple filled my bruises with her abundance

Perhaps that’s why crimson was always in D minor.

D C de Oliveira
Forgive me

Written for @leiascully xf writing challenge: forgiveness

Set after “The Truth”

It rains the first night they’re on the road. The raindrops pelt angrily against the windshield and the wipers do their best to give Mulder a clear view of what’s ahead. Their scratchy movement contributes to the peculiar symphony they’re listening to; their silence, however, is the loudest participant.

Things they want to talk about, really should talk about now after all this time, they’re swallowed in kisses, in moans instead. Here in the car, though, the distance between them seems inexpugnable. Mulder considers taking her hand in his, the need to feel her soft skin against his is almost painful. But he doesn’t reach over. Despite their desperate love making last night, he is not sure where they stand. Their bodies remember each other flawlessly, as if never having been apart. The distant look in her eyes, emotions playing on her face he’s never seen before, they remind him that she lived through a hell he did not walk through himself. Just like his hell is his very own. They’re both burned, but their wounds no longer match.

And Mulder’s secret, he fears, will make it only worse. Cause newer, rawer pain.

His eyes wander over to her small body, slumped in her seat, her head leaning the window. She’s fast asleep, still trusting him enough to know he’ll get them there, wherever, safely.

“Forgive me, Scully,” he mumbles, “I am so sorry.”

The words come easy now knowing she can’t hear them.


“Where are we?” Scully wakes up with the sun, her voice as warm and gentle as the weather.

“We just passed Tucson.” Mulder adjusts his sunglasses, preparing himself for her next question.

“Where are we going, Mulder? Mexico?”

“No.” She waits for him to elaborate, tell her, and he just can’t find the words.

“I’m sorry, Scully. It’s just- let’s just drive, all right?”

She doesn’t answer; she leans her head against the window again, her eyes trained on the bleak landscape surrounding them.

“Don’t be sorry, Mulder. We’re in this together, remember?”

He nods. But she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.


They eat at a shabby road side diner, just like in old times. Mulder grins at her remembering mornings and afternoons spent together discussing cases. He misses it. Scully smiles at him softly, nodding to herself as if she, too, wishes they were still these people.

A few miles later Scully tells him to stop.

“You need sleep, Mulder.” She doesn’t offer to drive and he knows she’s right. They check in as Mr. and Mrs. Hale paying in cash with crumpled up bills. The room is clean enough, he figures. Silently he strips down to his boxers as Scully shuts the blinds.

She watches him get comfortable in bed.

“You’re not joining me?”

“You should sleep, Mulder. I’ll be fine.”

“You know, I can behave myself. Come to bed, Scully. I’ll be a gentleman.” She takes off her jacket, her blouse and finally her skirt. Mulder keeps his eyes on her face, determined. His cock betrays him, throbbing gently, tightening his shorts.

“But who says I can behave myself?” She whispers and Mulder lets go, lets her take the reign for the moment. When he comes, her walls clamping down on him, guilt surges through him, reminding him that he doesn’t deserve this. When she kisses him after with a smile on her face, he tastes bitterness.

Her eyes begin to flutter and her breath evens out.

“I love you,” Mulder whispers into the room where the air conditioner gently hums, almost like a lullaby, “I love you so much, Scully.”

There is no answer and he is glad.

“Forgive me, Scully. Forgive me.” And he, too, sleeps.


When Mulder changes the direction north, Scully shoots him a look but stays quiet.

What did they used to talk about on these drives? Mulder doesn’t remember. In his memory, they’re always talking, quarreling. Cases, theories, ideas but nothing he could pinpoint. It was a time before his death, his resurrection. Before there were new partners assigned to find him, to have her back. A time when there was no baby boy; no regrets on either side why he isn’t with them now.

“We could stop in Las Vegas, make it official.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Scully’s silence and her somber face tell him it was the wrong thing to say. He doesn’t apologize. Not for this.

As the scenery changes, the mood in the car remains the same.

“I really am sorry, Scully. For all of this.” When she doesn’t answer, he believes she’s asleep again. He doesn’t question her exhaustion, doesn’t ask why.

“Stop apologizing, Mulder. There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive.”

“You heard me.”

“I did. It’s just- I sent you away, Mulder. To keep you safe and to… if there’s anyone who should be sorry it should be-“

“No, Scully. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Silence takes over after this and Mulder feels it deep inside himself; the guilt manifesting itself inside, striking roots. You don’t know, Scully. You don’t know.

She’ll find out soon and then… and then.


They arrive with the sunrise. Orange flames lick at the sky as Mulder steers the car onto the graveled path.

“Where are we?” Scully’s voice is still thick with sleep. She runs her hands through her hair automatically.

“Mulder, where are we?” He stops the car, the house still small there in the distance. Mulder turns to Scully, who stares intently at him. There have been moments like this before in their long partnership; Mulder running off, leaving her with merely a sliver of the truth. Once she did it to him, too. This, he knows, is a different betrayal. One she might not forgive him.

“We’re in Wyoming.” There’s no reaction on her face. She has no idea.

“Scully, I couldn’t, I-…” Mulder trails off; he can’t do this. He starts the car again, Scully’s blue eyes burning into him, never once looking anywhere but his face. It takes maybe another 20 seconds, 30 tops, before the house comes into focus. Scully’s eyes leave him someone walked out the door. Mulder slows down the car and it finally stops in clear sight.

“Mulder…” He doesn’t recognize the emotion in Scully’s voice. He listens to the click of her seat belt, the soft close of the car door as she steps out. The woman on the porch holds her baby tightly, fastening her grip involuntarily.

Mulder takes a deep breath. He couldn’t have told her. He doesn’t have the words for it. Opening the car door, soft air hits him, reminds him of a place somewhere, of something he can’t put his fingers on. The baby kicks gently, like happy children do when they’re excited, and Mulder looks at his son for the first time in over a year.

“Mulder, why…” Scully’s voice breaks.

“Forgive me, Scully.” He pleads.

He needs her to forgive him because he can’t let go, can’t forgive himself and partly her, for giving up. For giving up their son.

“We’re taking our son home.” He says, determination in his voice. 

Heaven (John x reader)

 This is for @riversong-sam’s birthday challenge! Happy (belated) birthday!
~Lyrics are in italics~

Based on the song: Heaven by Bryan Adams

Originally posted by hotfornegan

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks + descriptions of Mary’s death, implied abusive!John, language, mentions of smut but nothing graphic

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This is my first ever John fic!! and I got heavy feels while writing the first part, I expect more to come. Feedback would be amazing!!

John sat up, again, in a cold sweat; his chest heaved as his lungs sucked in the cool air of the room he was in. It was how he woke up most of the time.

His clammy hand ran over his forehead, down his cheeks and back up again, through his hair, to soothe the aching in his temples. For once, the oxygen he breathed in didn’t have a tang of old beer or dust, or mold; it was clean air, and he lay on clean sheets.

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As you guys most likely know, I’m new to English Lops. I was just on an E-Lop Facebook group and saw REW & Pearl E-Lops. Which really surprised me, because of course it should be obvious that the breed can have that colour. But it didn’t occur to me until I saw it. I’m completely in love with the pearls!
31 May 2017

You’re Not Her: 6. Fire and Ice

Shout out to @squirrellygirlart for beta reading this for me!!!!

Sorry for the wait everyone!! @polkadotsdesign @justa-dork


Start                                <—– Previously

Marinette was suspended. Her parents were angry of course but once Marinette had explained what had happened they understood. She was, however, grounded for the duration of the week because “violence is never the answer Marinette.” Being grounded was fine by her, it was an excuse to keep from socializing, but that didn’t keep Adrien from stopping by and dropping off notes and instructions for their group project. Marinette wished he would leave her alone. Thus far Adrien had caused her more problems than she currently needed in her life right now. She knew it was irrational to be angry at him for Chloe’s behavior but she couldn’t help but feel a little bitterness towards the model. If he left her alone Chloe would have less incentive to approach Marinette of course after the stunt Marinette had pulled Chloe would probably keep her distance when tormenting her now. Maybe her dislike of Adrien stemmed more from Chloe than it did from his actual actions but Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to change that. She was exhausted by people. Talking to anyone, even friends became a chore. The only emotions that came easily now were overwhelming sadness, anger, or complete apathy. Sometimes it was easier to just mask over one’s sorrows with the all consuming hate that anger brought. It was a reprieve from the drowning misery of grief. All this made it easier to dislike Adrien. He himself might not be the problem but by being associated with him it had caused more face time with the people of her class, and to her utter horror, more biting comments from Chloe- neither of which Marinette wanted.

Unable to intercept Adrien at the front door, since she was grounded, Marinette’s parents scheduled a time for her to come by his place and work with him. Marinette was hoping that she could just do all the work by herself, her parents, however, did not agree that that was fair. So Marinette stood in front of the Agreste Mansion, ready to get through this as quickly as possible. The gate stood slightly ajar. Marinette looked to the telecom used to beep people in and grimaced. She didn’t need any extra interaction today. Talking to people was like forcing herself to chew on glass. It was painful, forced, and left her feeling mangled and raw. With a deep calming breath Marinette pushed the gate open and wound her way up the long walkway to the door. She rapped on the door and waited. There was no answer. Agitated about already having to be here Marinette knocked again this time more forcefully. A tall dark haired woman answered the door a confused and harried expression pulling her face.

“How did you get in?” The woman asked suspiciously.

“The gate was open,” Marinette explained. The woman’s eyebrows shot up, realization crossing her features. “I’m here to see Adrien,” Marinette said expectantly.

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ao3 version

part 2

Rey has been unconscious and woken up in bad positions a few times in her life. Fainting from heatstroke and waking to find all of her haul stolen. Falling from her climbs on star destroyers and hitting her head on the way down before also having her haul stolen. More than a few times when hunger or thirst got to her she awoke to find a teedo patting her down, searching for the nourishment she didn’t have.

Nothing could compare to being knocked out by the Force, though. Nothing so shocking as waking up strapped to an interrogation table with metal cuffs cutting into her wrists and the dawning realization that her captor crouched in front of her.

Nothing except for perhaps her current situation.

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America x Donald Trump

America Softly licked the fat orange skin that was sitting on top of him. He was relaxed, and he was pleased to be licking trumps fat naked body. “Mr Trump,” he asked. “What is your gender?” Trump glared at the white cis American in anger and rage. “ALFRED I IDENTIFY AS OGRE GENDER HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU NEED TO MISGENDER ME”
America was disgusted. Trump ripped off a layer of skin, appearing to be an actual ogre. Now America was turned on because shrek was his daddy. America hugged the ogre. “I’m sorry babe, I didn’t know you were an actual ogre!” Shrek Trump looked down at America and left him. “You misgendered me far too many times for me to forgive you, farwell. I’m deporting you.” America sobbed and drove down to Mexico. End.


You said butterfly wings.

You said silver crowns with rubies and emeralds and sapphires; you said ballerinas in soft satin balancing on tiptoes; you said eyelashes heavy with golden glitter. You promised beauty and delicacy and grace and glory, and I was a girl with big eyes shining with dreams of wedding bells and picket fences, listening to your voice like a pyromaniac watches magma bubble.

You weren’t what I wanted, not orange licking flames, but you were all heat and destruction. You insisted you were the void, the inside of a volcano, and I wanted you to see your glowing embers. We both fell short, and we both tried to convince ourselves otherwise, and you know what the worst part was?

It worked.

It worked, and no one threw a rock at our little glass house, smudged and cracked at the edges anyway; but we handed each other a hammer and an axe, then we asked ourselves if the glass raining down on us was worth the soft rainbows and blood on our cheeks.

It made it harder to accept that our cheeks were wet with blood, not tears; harder than realizing the four walls you’ve lived in all your life were in the middle of a maze all this time, and really, there’s no way out. The difference is that there was a lamp-lit garden path away from the remains of the glass, but the remains never stopped.

Always blood-soaked feet, always red butterflies.

I never said you couldn’t keep your promises.

- fragility // bluestruckholly

‘And She Was’ (Simon x OC, part 4)

Title: “And She Was”

Characters: Simon (The Walking Dead), Negan (The Walking Dead)

Tags/Warnings: Explicit language, eventual smut, slow burn, Spanish cocktail-making, bad flirting, a bit of cheeky semi-self-insert???

Gif Credit: GIF is not mine, credit goes to the creator! (Also, how nice does he look in this gif? Seriously)

NOTES: In which Simon is a big dork who makes Spanish cocktails, meaning I spent a good hour or so on the Smirnoff website taking notes and regretting my obsession with trying to be realistic. Vamanos!

Taglist: @simons-thirst-squad @backseat-negan @neganisking (if you’d like to be added, just let me know)

Part one!

Part two!

Part three!

It’s several hours later and I’m shifting awkwardly from foot to foot outside the door of the bedroom I’ve been told is Simon’s. In my arms is a soft white towel and a toothbrush, as well as clean underwear – which one of Negan’s wives begrudgingly bestowed on me – and fresh clothes for the next morning.

“I know what you’re thinking.” The blonde girl – Amber, someone called her, I think - whispered as she handed me the fragile lace undergarments, her fair brow furrowed. “It’s disgusting. But we chose this for ourselves. He wasn’t lying.”

“I didn’t mean that I thought you were gross.” I replied, ashamed as I accepted the clothes. “I meant him.”

“What’s the difference, really?” She shrugged, moving her long hair over her shoulder. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you for talking like that.”

“Does he usually do that?” I asked after her, but she’d already disappeared into her own bedroom.

“Okay, so…” I murmur to myself, rolling the toothbrush between my fingers. “Hi, Simon! I know we just met but I got in trouble with your rampantly-sexual boss and now I have to sleep with you.” I say to the closed door. “Not with you, just in the same room as you. But it’s cool because I don’t take up much room – I can fold up like an accordion and just, like, slot under your bed. You won’t even know that I’m there, I’m super quiet. Like a ninja-”

“Who’re you talking to?” Says a familiar voice and I give a spasmodic jerk, almost dropping the objects in my arms.

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After You

Part: 3/?

Masterpost: {x}

Pairing: Snowbaz

Summary: What if Simon had never gone off that night in 2008?

Warning: cussing, blood

Word Count: 3k+

Tags: @muchachadeningunaparte, @deathbycaptainswan, @punsarethebiagenda, @totallyademigod (tell me if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: Let me know what you think! My inbox is always open! Also, should I make a playlist? Let me know!

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