#and happy new year fic prompt anon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

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The Spear and the Sword

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 3,807

This is the final fic for the year, a wonderful prompt given by an anon months ago. Thank you to @since-im-already-here for beta reading and correcting grammar. If there's any issue, know my sister is to blame, folks.

@gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @vespidphoenix happy new year!

Warning: blood, gore, flirtatious dialogue, mutual pining, playfulness in battle, enemies to lovers, warlord reader, fluff, Mihawk x female!reader.

I said I'd get it done before the new year. Happy New Years Eve to my fellow Aussies!

This was too much. This was far too much. This was far too much for lord Dracule Mihawk to fend off alone. His great sword Yoru was spattered with the blood of several foes, each impact meeting his blade creating more lethargy in the broody sword master of the seas. His title of “worlds greatest” was hanging in the balance as more enemies approached him with more fervour than ever before.

“Garp,” Mihawk growled into his den-den-mushi earpiece, “you said there would be a few hundred. This is in the upwards of a couple thousand. What is going on back there?” Static and groans of battle were met within the earpiece in return, huffs of gruff breath and thumps of fists coinciding within the ferocious melody.

“It was all I was aware of, Mihawk,” Garp growled once the battle was silenced in the background of the call, “my marines are barely holding up on this end. The other warlords are occupied, I’ve got none to spare you.” Mihawk almost met with a single shot from a bullet, weaving away with a dance-like twirl to dodge the metallic, circular object. He swiped his lengthy blade within the air and kicked back the individual who shot at him, his torso falling to impale themselves against a fence post as a result of the blow.

The town he was tasked to protect, a marine base home to several prominent family members within the world government; alongside the sick, weak, young, and elderly, were currently engaged in a war-like battle with pillagers and pirates from the four corners of the north, east, south and west blues. This army was accumulated under a foreign flag, their jolly roger unfamiliar to both marines and warlords alike. Mihawk had been fighting at the front line alone, his ship destroyed under the destruction of war: his traveling vintages of fine wines claimed by the seas.

As another made his approach, Mihawk huffed out an exhausted and frustrated breath while continuing to swipe to relinquish the foes and meet them with the sharpened edge of his blade.

“Mihawk,” Garp interrupted his flow of battle with his voice cutting through the air within his snail earpiece, “we might have someone available. You’ve worked with her before, a warlord like you. She’s on her way.”

“Boa?” Mihawk asked while placing his fingertip to the shell of the earpiece, “I thought you said she’s on the other side of the north blue right now.” Garp growled at one of his underlings, directing them in some nonsensical way that Mihawk couldn’t quite register.

“No, not Boa,” Garp replied, panting into the earpiece with exhaustion overcoming himself. More clangs, clashes and thumps were heard within the earpiece, Mihawk turning to continue forcing the pillagers back to the shore of the beach.

“No,” Mihawk uttered firmly into the earpiece, “anyone but her. Give me cadets, give me your least valuable soldiers, give me prisoners. Literally anyone else-.”

“I don’t have anyone else!” Garp roared into the earpiece, prompting Mihawk to flinch away from it while furrowing his brows in anger. Both men managed to calm themselves down, Mihawk taking a moment to silence his rage by taking a few deep breaths.

“Put your former grievances and your ego aside, warlord,” Garp ordered within the earpiece, “she’s what we have, and she’s perfect. World’s greatest weapons-master, in fact.”

“I’m aware of that,” Mihawk murmured through his clenched teeth, his teeth grinding as he bit back his lackluster words, “she’s violent, impulsive, ferocious, messy. She’s feral and she’s the bane of my existence.”

“Have you even spoken to her?” Garp questioned, a small humorless laugh falling through his widened grimace, “she’s exactly what we need, Mihawk. You do this, and I’ll let you off the tether to tend your farms, sharpen your sword – or even sheathe it for an entire year.” Mihawk narrowed his eyes, huffing out a frustrated breath and brandishing his sword out to the side in preparation for another recuperated attack from the approaching armada.

“How soon will she be here?” Mihawk asked, his beard protruding while snarling with his upper lip drawing back.

“She’s already on the other side of the war line,” Garp confirmed with him, a final slam of iron-barred doors echoing within the background of the ship, “I’ll patch her through now.”

You tilted your head down, looking up at the coastline full of ships approaching the marine-base through your lengthy eyelashes. You drew back your playful smirk, allowing the elevation of your heartbeat to begin to work itself to frenzy within your ribcage. You were known far and wide for your battle-ready ferocity; allowing your rage to take over your emotions within the thralls of battle to relinquish many a foe.

Combat mastery began at a young age; bare knuckle boxing in gladiator cage-matches being one of the first types of combat you overtook the championship of in your youth. After boxing and grappling, you moved on to wielding large hammers and battle axes, enjoying the weight within your fists as you crushed skulls and decapitated limbs. After heftier weapons, you opted to train under the mentorship of a superior fighter. They taught you to throw the spear and reclaim it swiftly, giving you pointers to always meet your target with the piercing tip of the bladed end.

You were nothing, coming from nothing. No family to speak of, you traveled the continents, claiming title after title of world's greatest weapon-master with ease. The only one you were yet to best was the current reigning lord of Kuraigana, his title of World’s Greatest Swordsman continuing to badge itself against his bare chest with pride. Arrogant prick was the first thought that sprung to mind regarding the nature of his aura. You had seen posters, articles and even catalogs regarding his training history and weapons mastery.

As your status was elevated to warlord, the world government approached you for protection against several foes and to take on contracts they would rather not involve themselves with, you accepted under two conditions: they allow you to handle matters in your own way, being the first. Your own way, being: “I will get this done, regardless of the mess, and you will clean it up after I’m done with it.”

The other condition is you were to be given absolutely all the information available to you regarding the contracts: no children, no women: no innocents. Those were your rules. You didn’t care how feral the children were, nor how arrogant and uptight the women were. If they were innocent, you refused to do harm to them, or unleash your wrath onto the world government themselves. There were absolutely no qualms to your requests, printed in bold atop your profile.

Vice-Admiral Garp had no quarry with your methods, usually placing a den-den-mushi somewhere about within the battlefield to watch your barbaric tirades on the field in awe at your ferocity.

That was how Mihawk knew of your battle prowess, your pictures almost always covered in some form of dirt, mud and blood within the heat of battle. He absolutely despised mess, but was always held captive to your almost beckoning and sultry gaze as you removed your spearhead from another foe. And you knew him in a similar likeness, his images always clean-cut with not a splash of battle worn on him. Given the call you just received from Garp, you were quivering in anticipation to remedy such a plight from him.

“I’m going to patch you through now, Weaponsmaster,” Garp’s lilted brogue uttered into the den-den-mushi within your ear. His voice almost was quivering itself in anticipation of witnessing the carnage you were about to unleash against the armada as far as the naked eye could see.

“Thank you, Vice-Admiral,” you sang in an almost sultry tone within the earpiece, “I know you’ll be watching closely.”

“Aye, I will be lass,” Garp’s voice laughed into the earpiece. You were very well aware of how fond the older gentleman was of watching you work, not minding in the slightest at the attention and preference you got from him.

“Mihawk, you there?” Garp’s voice echoed within the earpiece, prompting you to wince away from his growl slightly.

“I am, Vice-Admiral.” A moment of pause occurred before Mihawk spoke again, “Weapons-master.”

“Sword-master,” you smirked, your voice almost purring at him, “a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“That I’m sure of,” Mihawk replied in a bored tone. You were slightly taken aback by his standoffish mannerism, your brows furrowing low. He absolutely knew who you were, holding a title as warlord and world’s greatest weapons-master. You rotated your shoulders and clicked your neck to rid yourself of annoyance and prepare yourself for battle.

“Conceited Cunt,” you spat, unaware that the contact was still drawn between the three of you – only becoming aware once Mihawk’s voice relayed back to you, “Feral Filiform.”

“Easy now,” Garp’s voice called over the linked den-den-mushi, “Complete this feat first, then get to your flirting.”

“If you think that’s what flirting looks like,” Mihawk winced into the shell, touching his index finger to the outer shell of the den-den-mushi, “I pity your wife.” You chuckled at his crude comment, almost tangibly feeling the rage pouring off Garp in waves through the den-den-mushi attached to your inner ear.

“Save your insults for the enemy, pirate,” Garp spat into the earpiece. You heard Mihawk hum, prompting you to roll your eyes at the interaction. The ships over the shore began to fall closer to your small vessel - the rise of the tide ushering you into the new thralls of battle. You noticed there were a few hundred ships, all carrying an amassment of crew of various sizes. You once again rolled your shoulders back and pursed your lips.

Placing your fingertip to secure the shell deeper within your ear, you smirked out a final taunt to the warlord.

“This is what was bothering you? Couldn't you handle the troop all by yourself, swordsman?” You cooed into the voice responder. Silence and static was met within the drum of your ear, a stifled growl also accompanying it. You decided to get in a final jab to taunt him, “I could dispatch the armada by myself. Why don’t you take a break, old man? Sit your pretty little ass down on the beach and sit back to watch the show.”

“I’d like to see you try, barbarian,” Mihawk growled in return. Your ship brushed against the hull of the first ship to the rear of the fleet; your presence immediately making itself known as you housed yourself effortlessly over the railing. You laughed into the earpiece, feeling the rapidity of your heartbeat rising in elevation to frenzy yourself before first contact is made with your many foes.

Your spear was flung through your hands to indent itself against the top mast at the middle of the vessel, skewering several members of the mighty crew onto its pole as meat would dangle from a kebab. You grappled, kicked, flung yourself at the crew; using your hands and their own weapons against them to relinquish them from their life. Once they all fell victim to your battle mastery, you again reached your hand up to the shell-responder.

“I bet my left breastplate I will get to the middle before you, Swordsman,” you taunted him, your legs carrying themselves with haste towards the railing of the ship. You jumped high, the air lifting you and drawing your body down against the next vessel.

“I bet my waist-belt you absolutely won’t, Wild-Woman,” the swordsman snarled into the earpiece, Yoru circling around and pushing the troops back with one fell swipe. Mihawk’s teeth drew themselves back, enraged at his taunt being met with a small melodic giggle.

“Oh, this is how we’re playing, is it?” You whispered breathily into the earpiece, your spear clutched within the fist of your dominant hand as you stabbed at the next approaching foe. You giggled again, feeling at home on the battlefield. The life drained from the eyes of the enemy under the tip of your spear; another shipful of foes falling on their knees at your expert ministrations.

“Fine,” you smiled into the earpiece, singsong and humor dripping from your tongue, “I’ll see your belt and raise you my entire breastplate.” Mihawk growled in response. You held your ground, immediately flinging yourself at the next ship.

Rather than to take on several members of this crew, you shrugged your shoulders and thrust your spear downwards - sinking the vessel below your feet. You sprinted against the ship’s deck as it began to be claimed by the sea water below, ushering you on to the next ship. You threw your spear to the next vessel, embedding the tip into a lit cannon and witnessed the beautiful implosion it made; launching the spear back into your awaiting palm as you jumped onto the next one. The blast sunk the ship it was fired from, the cannonball flinging itself to sink the one laying perpendicular to the vessel.

Mihawk was not paying attention to your battle mastery, assuming you were still undertaking the first vessel you had docked your ship against and fighting like some untrained and feral marine. He snickered at the thought, himself already aboard his second vessel after pushing back the troop from their approach of the shore.

“I’m looking forward to claiming your breastplate,” Mihawk’s voice audibly smirked into the earpiece, “to add to the winning pool, I’ll claim that spear too.” A shiver of anticipation shuddered against his spine at the audible growl he managed to pull from your parted lips. Holding your spear more firmly within your hand, you growled back at him.

“There are several things I doubt you’d be able to do correctly, swordsman. Wielding my spear is the first that springs to mind,” you smirked, watching the bubbling of water rise as another ship sank against your skill, “pleasing a woman is the other.”

In order to remain silent while listening to your quips back and forward to each other, Vice-Admiral Garp clapped his wide palm over his lips to stifle an outrageous and unbridled laugh rising in his chest. Bogard smirked, hearing the commotion from the speaker molded into the desktop den-den-mushi, placing his hat over his eyes to hide his joy.

“I’ll gladly show you I can on both counts, woman.”

“You can certainly try, warlord”

“I will absolutely succeed, fellow warlord.”

Garp and Bogard were held on the edge of their seats, watching through binoculars the battle mastery balanced between you both while your quippy dialogue read as commentary to your mighty feats.

“Fine,” you again smirked into your earpiece, clothes and armor littered with the spilt blood of your enemies while your hair stuck to your face under the salty sea-spray, “If I am to give up my weapon to the cause, I will have something of equal value offered in return.”

“Yoru is not something I would ever part with for something as childish as a-,” Mihawk began, his words halting as you offered your trade.

“-If I win this little coo, you pretentious prick, your pride is coming with me,” you called into the shell attached to your ear. Feeling all the pent up rage and frustration of the respect of your skill not being met in return for your affection, you offered the best solution you could find.

“If I get to these exact coordinates, all foes falling before me,” you relayed the coordinates, Garp, Bogard and Mihawk hanging on your every utterance, “you will report back to Vice-Admiral Garp donning nothing but your stupid cross-blade, your stupid Yoru and your feathered hat.” The battle paused, the enemies halting their approach with their brows furrowing in almost disgust and awe. You held up a halting hand at them, awaiting a vocal response from Mihawk to your taunt.

Mihawk’s brows themselves were lowered, his eyes narrowed as he sought you out in the field. He couldn’t find you, couldn’t see a trail of destruction in your wake. He continued to search for you within the crowd, but was still unable.

“In that complete and utter unlikelihood,” Mihawk began, still craning his neck to seek out your form, “I accept the terms. Prepare to have your spear, your breastplate and my own satisfaction in claiming some semblance of femininity from you while I wield your body effortlessly.”

“And you prepare yourself to be absolutely humbled in response, your pride and ego removed because-,” you smirked, your eyes finally meeting with the yellow hue of the feathered warlord only a few hundred feet away from you, “-I’m nearly there.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened as he witnessed you jump to the next vessel, twirling within the air to throw a small axe into the base of the ship and sinking it by placing a wide hole within its bow. You were, indeed, very close to the coordinates. His widened gaze looked harder, noticing the absence of over half of the wide armada sinking to the bottom of the sea. How had he not noticed it before? Why, in all his stupidity, would he ever agree to this without looking properly first? Clearly, he had underestimated you. Or overestimated his ability to easily outmatch you.

The elements had changed along with the tide. Your battle-ready ferocity was overcast by an aura of calm playfulness; you giggling into the earpiece as you continued falling foe after foe beneath your spear, fist and axes. In turn, Mihawk was the one to begin to shower himself desperately in the blood of his enemies; curling up his lip at the mess alongside his stupidity at undertaking such a bet.

“C’mon Hawk, keep up. You’re nearly there. Flap your wings harder,” you’d giggle into the earpiece, uncaring whether blood, sinew or bone showered your body in the baptism of battle.

“Stop your stupid teeth from gnashing, Hyena. Your taunts mean very little to me,” Mihawk panted, his feet carrying him with more haste as he continued to unblinkingly search for you.

You giggled again in response, your feet almost carrying themselves closer to the finish line. Your enemies within the armada were fleeing from the utter horror you created, your wolfy grin and playful eyes not matching the energy of the gore befalling your form. Many simply dove overboard, ran to the next ship away from you in their cowardly retreat - only to be met with another approaching warlord with his mighty sword clutched in his dominant hand.

As Mihawk panted for breath, his adrenaline propelling him to the finish line leaving a trail of destruction in his wake; his steps quivered in his tracks as his gaze met with yours.

You were sitting on a barrel, twirling the twine around your spearhead nonchalantly with a litter of bodies laying at your feet. Your left brow was arched upwards, the knowing smirk plastered against your plush lips as you hummed a tune of victory through your nose.

“Looks like I’ll get to see what your other sword looks like,” you cooed in a melodic tune, not meeting his gaze and remaining aloof, “you can leave your boots at my feet. I think I might wear your coat home with me, Swordsman.”

“You are disgusting,” Mihawk spat at you, his breath finally catching up with him. He was now left breathless at witnessing your ferocity, the wild shape of your battle-worn eyes holding him hostage with tense emotion.

“You agreed to the terms, Mihawk. Now it’s time to pay up-,” you uttered darkly, snapping your head over to his form with your eyes narrowed at him.

“-I meant your appearance. So wild, so feral, so-,” his next words caught in his throat as you drew yourself down from your sat position atop the barrel, “-unladylike.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in your approach. Wiping your forehead with the back of your arm, you rid your face of the bone, blood and sinew blocking your view of him. He was a very pretty man, the most beautiful you had seen in a long time. Although slightly taken aback by his clean and uptight appearance, you stood your ground.

“What would you have me wear then? Silks and satins while I dance amongst the chaos? I think not, lord Dracule Mihawk,” you spat at him, laughing dryly at your own comment. Mihawk sucked in a small breath through his nostrils, wincing at your comment with his lips curled into a snarl. You overemphasized a sigh, placing your spear against your back and stretched your arms to cool down your body.

“I’ll make you another deal then, Mihawk,” you smirked again up at his towering form, “I’ll go and get cleaned up and don some pretty little dress for you,” you prodded his bare chest with your index finger and traced a pattern against his pectorals, “and you can go and relay the play by play to Vice-Admiral Garp completely starkers, okay?”

Mihawk growled, eyes looking to your tender touch against his chest and almost again finding himself falling to his knees under your radiant ferocity. He rolled his neck, arched his soldiers back and leaned into your touch.

“Fine,” he spat in response, gripping your bloodied wrist beneath his palm and curled fingertips, “but it better be something tight and preferably black.” You giggled at his comment, raising your other hand up to his cheek and patting it affectionately with a small utterance.

“What a good boy you are,” you praised him with another cooing taunt, scrunching up your nose and smiling with your feral eyes, “now take off your boots, coat and pants and run along now. I’ll be all dolled up for you and ready for you at the waterfront tavern. I might even see that your clothes are cleaned, pressed and waiting once you arrive.”

Your comment finally broke him, a warm laugh cracking through his tough exterior and rumbling within his chest to pour from his mustached lips.

“It’s a shame I lost,” he leant his cheek into your touch, prompting you to furrow your brows in curiosity. He stooped his form lower to you, tickling your face with his playful and breathy whisper, “I would’ve liked to have shown you how well I can please a woman.”

BONUS

Eyes were either focussed exclusively on the ceiling or marines would simply turn around as the darkened and well seasoned lord of Kuraigana entered the military office building. Holding true to his word, and the promise of good company after his humiliation, he sauntered confidently into Vice-Admiral Garp’s office donning nothing but Yoru strapped to his back, his cross-blade hanging loosely from his neck, and his feathered hat atop his sea-sprayed, curled, dark locks.

#Mihawk #one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x warlord!reader #dracule mihawk

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kimpossibly · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓

REQUEST Hi hi happy new year!! I love your rowan fic (can't wait for part three) and I was wondering if you could do hc's for Wednesday characters (Wednesday, Enid, Xavier, Rowan, Tyler) seeing their SOs in a suit (preferably a female reader please)? thanks! — anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: AHHHHH MY FIRST REQUEST!! Hi hi happy new year I love this prompt! I'm getting maaaaaajor Kate Bishop vibes here...this is so exciting. I kind of ended up doing the suit hc + how they would act when taking you to the Rave'N, so I hope you like that bit as well :) Happy new year! I hope you enjoy it!

PAIRING: fem!reader x wednesday characters WARNINGS: two little suggestive comments, but other than that it's just fluff!

✰ 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐒

We all know that Wednesday is not one to show enthusiasm...or any emotions. About anything. Ever.

But when you appear in the doorway in a suit, she almost almost cracks a smile.

She recovers quickly, of course, and gives you a brisk "You look nice."

I'm just going to assume you're wearing a suit to some sort of formal event — maybe even the Rave'N

Regardless of where you're going, Wednesday sticks by your side the entire night, glaring at everyone who looks at you.

Basically she's giving everyone the silent "She's mine."

And if anyone comes up to you to flirt? Oooo boy she is threatening them with everything she has.

And after the potential flirters walk away, terrified, and you give her a surprised look, she just stares back at you like she's done absolutely nothing wrong (which, in her mind, she hasn't.)

"Wednesday, what was that?"

"A reasonable reaction to people hitting on my date. Why do you ask?"

And you can only roll your eyes at her, blushing like mad as you wrap an arm around her. "No reason."

✰ 𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑

Now Enid is the exact opposite of Wednesday when it comes to this. When you pop up, girlie squeals.

As in, loud enough to make everyone cringe and cover their ears

Once again, in the opposite fashion of Wednesday, Enid takes every opportunity to show you off to everyone, so much so that you end up a little embarrassed.

"Everyone, look look look! Look at how good Y/n looks!"

"Enid."

"What? Can't I tell everyone how good my girlfriend looks?"

While not socializing, she is dragging you onto the dance floor just so that she can admire you from every angle

And every five minutes she reiterates the sentiment

"Ugh, Y/n, you look so good!"

"I know! You told me five minutes ago! And five minutes before that! And five minutes before that!"

Poor girl is sooooo down bad.

✰ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐄

I feel like he'd get so thrown off by you in a suit that it'd be easy to mistake it for him not liking it.

Like, he's just so baffled that he can't properly articulate his feelings towards it.

"Y/n...you...um..."

Your heart starts to sink a little, but you cover it up with a small grin.

"That bad, huh?"

Needless to say, that gets his lips moving.

"No!" he shouts, a little too loud. "No, no of course not. You just...you look incredible."

He just genuinely forgets how to get across how drop dead gorgeous he thinks you look

And he feels sooooo much pride when you guys walk in together

He's not going to show you off verbally, but with you on his arm, he's exuding "Yeah, that's right, look at my badass sexy girlfriend."

And towards the end of the dance, you'll ask him if he's ready to go

"Ready to leave?"

"Yeah," he says, then leans in to whisper in your ear, "I really want to see what that suit looks like on the floor."

I think you know what comes after that...

✰ 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖

Oh my God...this boy forgets how to speak.

The second you appear in the doorway wearing the suit, he's a stuttering mess.

He's gonna need his inhaler if he wants to get a few words out

Once he gathers himself, he'll finally tell you how amazing you look

God he feels so cool arriving at the dance with you on his arm

He's just like me...he thinks women in suits are hot.

Literally cannot take his eyes off of you the entire night

He's not much of a dancer, but if you are, he'll probably suffer for a few minutes or so. Just for you.

Plus, it's just another opportunity for him to look at you up close, which is a total win for him.

Also, he is very touchy just in general, but I imagine especially so at this dance.

When you're off to the sides, he'll keep an arm wrapped around your waist or a hand locked in yours.

If you're sitting, he'll keep a gentle hand on your knee

And when you're dancing? He will be holding your hands, waist, anything.

He just likes the feeling of security and knowing that you're there with him and you're not going anywhere.

He'll probably even pull you out of the dance a little early, just so you guys can get back to his dorm before Xavier gets there

✰ 𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍

I may not know much, but I know that this man is going to get you blushing in 0.000275 seconds.

He'll momentarily be awestruck by you, but of course he'll recover pretty quickly from the shock. Then, he'll say something that'll get you all hot and bothered

"If I had known you were going to pull off a suit better than me I would've brought sweatpants."

Idk what it is about that slightly awkward, slight confident vibe he has going on, but it works

He knows how to make a gal smile, that's all I'm saying.

He'll be a proper gentleman the whole night, but he's expertly hiding how freaking good you look in that goddamn suit.

He'll probably even make some kind of "twinsies" joke...because, you know...you're both in a suit. Please laugh he'd be so embarrassed if you didn't.

You guys would be on the dance floor ALL NIGHT

You'd be tearing that shit UP don't lie

And it is so much easier to maneuver in a suit over a dress, so you best believe you guys are doing allllllll the dancey dances

The only reason you stop is when one of you is about to collapse and you need to go slam some punch for stamina.

And at the end of the night, he would pull you close just to tell you once more how absolutely amazing you look, just to see the cute lil blush that follows <3

#wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair #enid sinclair x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday headcanons #wednesday addams headcanons #enid sinclair headcanons #xavier thorpe headcanons #rowan laslow headcanons #tyler galpin headcanons

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vanillanaps · 9 months

Text

As I Lay Dying | Bucky Barnes

Request - if i gave you the prompt “death of a relationship” with mr bucket barnes, could you help give me the best angst ever?

A/n - This is the first fic ive been able to write in over a year. There was a lot of writing and deleting but I think I finally got it right 😭 Anon, I hope this was every thing you asked for.

Category - Bucky Barnes x Reader, angst

Warnings - Infidelity, broken hearts, authors first fic in a year, no hard feelings if it’s shitty, not proof read as always.

Word Count - 1.5k

♡♡♡♡

When you fall in love, the world you once knew changes in a heartbeat. You find this special someone whom you seem to never stop thinking about. This special someone who can make you smile, even in your saddest moments. This someone who you suddenly want to share every single small detail in your life with. This someone who you fall so madly in love with that you can’t even remember life before them, nor do you want to imagine the rest of your life without them. Love is supposed to be full of happiness, laughs, kisses, hugs, and passionate sex. Love is supposed to make you feel like you’ve been doped up on drugs for the last three years. Love is supposed to make you feel whole, not…empty.

And yet, there you were. You hadn’t moved a single muscle since those words came flowing out the love of your life’s mouth. It almost seemed silly. You questioned yourself, wondering how you didn't see it coming. Had you been so blindly in love that you hadn't noticed your boyfriend slowly slipping through the cracks of your fingers, into the hands of another woman.

Your eyes never left him. Even in a moment like this, those stunning blue eyes still had that soft and innocent charm behind them, even though that was everything he was not. They were low and soft, almost as if they were filled with true remorse, but if they were, he wouldn’t be here, leaving you for another woman. He’d be down on his knees, begging you for your forgiveness.

“Y/n,” Bucky called, a softness in his voice as if he was trying not to startle you, “Please, I just need you to say something–anything.”

“When did it start?” You asked, voice completely shot from the lump that had formed in your throat and refused to leave as your tears ran in a continuous stream down your face, “I just don’t understand Bucky, I mean, we were happy, right? We were in love, we were good!”

Bucky cleared his throat as he crossed his fingers together and lowered his head, “It started a few months ago, at Tony’s new years party.”

Your heart dropped, further than it did before, “But–but,” you took a beat, trying to piece the puzzle together. Confusion, sadness, anger, all mixed into one on your face, “......You proposed to me that night..”

He took a deep breath as his leg bounced anxiously up and down, “Y/n, i’ve never told you the truth about Nat and I.”

If it would have been possible, by now, your heart would’ve been sitting in your lap, “What?”

♡♡♡♡

Four months ago; One hour til New Year’s

The atmosphere was loud and heavy. It was Tony Stark’s annual New Year’s party and it had never failed to thrive, if anything each year the crowd grew. But Bucky didn’t mind. Not when he’s had you on his arm for the last three parties to make them more tolerable.

Currently, Bucky sat at the bar, nursing his glass of bourbon as he watched you mingle. A small smile on his face as he took in your beauty, wondering how he got so lucky to have someone like you as a lover. Truthfully, he’d never imagined finding happiness, not after all that happened with Hydra. He always thought he was too fucked up to love and to be loved and yet, you loved him for every part of him. The good and the bad.

The presence of someone standing besides Bucky pulled him from his thoughts of you, “You seem happy now.” The voice spoke softly.

Bucky kept his eyes on you and nodded, “I am..”

Nat pauses for a moment as she sips her drink before turning her attention towards you as well. She thought about her next words carefully, knowing that what she was about to say, what she was about to do was completely wrong, but she couldn’t help herself, “....Do you think you ever could’ve loved me the way you love her?”

This time it was Bucky that paused, wondering why now of all time would Natasha ask him this, When he was finally happy, in love and carefree, but nonetheless did he answer, “...I tried to, but you didn’t let me.” He answered honestly, turning his attention away from you and towards the redhead in front of him.

She fought the smile that threatened to appear on her face, finally meeting Bucky’s gaze, “Things were different back then Barnes. I was a Widow and you were my Winter Soldier trainer.”

“Times might’ve been different back then, but my feelings were real Nat, regardless.” Bucky admitted.

This wasn’t right, Nat shouldn’t be doing this. You were her best friend, hell she’s the one who introduced you to Bucky. But, if she was being honest with herself, in her whole life, the only good thing she had was Bucky and she couldn’t help but wonder if her time had expired, “And–what about now?”

Time seemed to slow as her heart beated out of her chest as the two started longingly into each other’s eyes. It was wrong, it was wrong beyond all levels, but they just couldn’t help themselves as they quickly slipped out the backdoor of the party.

♡♡♡♡

His words ricocheted through your brain as he came clean about history with Nat then told you the truth about the New Year's party. You were at a loss of words, confused on how he had thoughts of you being the one, yet slept with another woman minutes after those thoughts were formed. The man you had loved for the last three years had happened to be a complete stranger to you. He had cheated on you and proposed out of pity. Out of sometype of way to make him feel less of an asshole. To let you go through with started to plan your wedding whilst he was screwing your best friend.

As for Nat, you couldn’t believe she could betray you like this. You didn’t understand why she never told you about her and Bucky’s relationship and you sure as hell didn’t understand why she’d set you up with him if she knew deep down, her feelings were still there. That one day she’d want to try again with Bucky. But instead, she drew the sharpest knife on planet earth and drove it right through your heart. At a time like this, Nat was supposed to be the one you called. The person to pick up snacks, drive over to your house and let you cry on her shoulders for hours. Nat was supposed to pick you up when you were down, not the one kicking you to the ground.

You sobbed as everything sunk in. You weren’t sure on what to do, how to feel, but you knew one thing for sure. You never wanted to see their faces again, from this every moment, Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff were dead to you.

“Get out.” You cried, shaking your head as you shot up from the couch, rage coursing through your veins, “You’re such a piece of shit! Three years! Three years of my fucking life down the drain because of you!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n, truly. I am.” Bucky tried, watching you pace the room.

A scoff left your mouth, shaking your head, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? An– I'm sorry Y/n?” You mocked him, “You know what, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the fact that I thought you could love someone. Clearly you are more fucked up than I thought you were!” It was a low-blow, you knew that, but you were running off anger. Every vein in your body was burning. Emotions running high as you were crying one minute and laughing like a crazed woman next, “I hate you! I hate you now, I’ll hate you later, I’ll hate you for eternity! You and Nat fucking deserve eachother! Two lowlife scumbags!” You pointed to the door, “Get out! Just get out, get out, get out!”

Finally, Bucky rose from his seat on the couch, slowly making his way to the door but not before stopping to grab his pre-packed bags. He fought the urge to look back at you once more. Dropping his key on the counter, he walked out the door and out of your life forever.

At that moment, your legs gave up on you. You dropped to the ground and continued to cry your life away. Your heart was in more than a million pieces and you had no idea on how you were even to begin on how to piece them back together. Within an hour, your life had changed drastically. The love of your life and your best friend, both gone in one sweep. Now, as you were alone, you felt nothing but sadness. Wondering why this had to happen to you when you had finally gotten to a good place with your life. It was true what they say, with true love comes a painful heartbreak.

You had experienced the amazing highs of a new love blossoming, but now you were facing the death of a relationship.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel fic #bucky barnes au

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 11 months

Note

congrats on 2222!! soulmate au with frankie would be so cute. I love frankie sm he’s just the cutest 😍

Hi lovely! Thank you for this prompt. I was a bit apprehensive because I've read one (1) soulmate AU in my entire life and wasn't sure if I could do it justice. But obviously, Frankie takes this by the ears and I just had the best time writing it. This is also a college AU because apparently I love AUs set with Pedro boys in college 🤷🏻‍♀️

This drabble is actually an AU of an upcoming fic I have in the works, called Summer House (with a lot less angst and pain). I hope you like it sweet anon!

Frankie Morales x soulmates AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1346 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, college AU, inexperienced reader, drinking games, friends to soulmates

Sometimes, you wonder what colour Frankie’s eyes are.

It’s not something you wonder about often, not when everyone has grey eyes - but not really. One day, when you kiss your soulmate for the first time, you will see their eye colour, and they will see yours.

So you definitely don’t have any business wondering anything of the kind about Frankie at all, seeing that you two do not get along. Never have, probably never will, despite having been in the same close knit group since you were kids. Benny has long played the second to your principal in your duels with Frankie, while Santi is his, with Will keeping the peace whenever you get into a particularly thorny disagreement.

But that’s the funny thing about friendship. Despite your bickering, you got his back, and you know he has yours.

You’ve heard about it once or twice through the grapevine in high school, but finding one’s soulmate seems to be a dime a dozen in college, with happy news dropping left, right and centre throughout the academic year.

While you’re not in a hurry to find your fated other half, you start thinking that you should at least get started with the kissing part. You’re way behind your friends and peers on that front, somehow missing out on the formative experience despite being a regular fixture at house parties at high school, then sorority parties in your freshman year in college.

You really should blame the boys. No one wants to risk messing with a girl who has three hulking seniors and one equally hulking sophomore at her beck and call, not when there are far easier options around.

But you know it’s not just that, and you’ll only admit it when you're drunkenly tucking yourself into bed, alone yet again after another party. It feels like you’re the only person your age who’s still (stupidly) holding onto the hope that your first kiss can be something, not just a sloppy makeout session with too much tongue and too little meaning.

And so you find yourself, still never been kissed, when summer rolls around at the end of your first year at college. Your gang of five is about to shrink to just you and Benny, with the rest of the boys enlisting after they graduate, and the impending farewell upsets you more than you care to show.

The five of you spend the first week together at the Millers’ summer house after school lets out, as has been tradition since you were kids - with your parents when you were younger, but it’s been just kids for the last few years.

Well, just the kids plus one, since Frankie always brings a girlfriend. Unfailingly, it's someone beautiful with perfect hair who has a wandering eye for the other boys, and hates your guts for being the only girl in the group.

On the last night, the guys invite a select crowd over for one final hurrah before they go home and get ready to ship out to basic training the following week. Music is booming, cheap beer is flowing, and you’re all in the garden, the sticky Floridian heat clinging to you like a second skin.

Ironically, it’s Frankie’s girlfriend who wants to play spin the bottle. He sits opposite you, his Standard Oil cap pulled over his eyes but failing to hide his annoyance at being forced to participate. You roll your eyes at him across the circle, and he gives you a middle finger back.

Will, the self-appointed gamesmaster, spins the bottle set on a pizza box atop the lawn.

It spins, and spins, and spins - until it doesn’t.

You look on in sheer horror when the bottle stutters to a stop squarely before you, the other end pointing at Frankie, who turns green with nausea.

‘FUCK NO!’

You attempt to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Santi, who practically hauls you by the waist back to the circle as you kick and scream.

Frankie, on the other hand, has to be restrained by both Miller brothers.

‘I have a girlfriend!’ he shouts, digging the heels of his beat-up sneakers into the grass.

She doesn’t seem to mind though, clapping gleefully along with everyone else, chanting, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’

Shoved toe to toe in the middle of the circle under watchful eyes, you exchange vicious glares. Frankie’s broad shoulders are hunched over defensively, arms crossed. It’s strange, you’ve known him forever, but this is probably physically the closest you’ve ever been to each other without being locked in a fist fight.

Warmth bounces off his tightly wound up frame as he towers over you, and by some folly, you feel an inexplicable pull.

You fight the staggering want to bury your nose in that grey tshirt (the one he wears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and restocks at Old Navy when it wears too thin), to swipe that hat off his head to brush the curls from his face, to look into his eyes - and see what colour they are.

In the end, Frankie breaks first - you’re not sure if it’s the jeering and goading from the crowd or your stubborn standoff that makes him snap. Grabbing you by the elbow, he hauls you firmly into his chest before you can react.

You should be embarrassed, mortified that this is how you’re going to end up losing your first kiss. And yet, losing doesn't seem like the right word.

There’s a deep-seated calmness inside you, knowing that it’s going to be Frankie. The boy you’ve known since you were three, the teenager who used to make you cry with stupid juvenile pranks, and the man now who wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch if anyone even looks at you the wrong way.

As soon as the tip of his proud nose brushes yours, your eyes slide shut of their own accord - and he kisses you.

God, his lips are so soft. Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees wobble so dangerously that your fingers twist into the front of his tshirt, holding on for dear life.

Can he tell that you don’t know how to kiss, at all? Does he think you’re terrible? The fact that this feels so fucking perfect despite having no idea what you’re doing sets you on edge, a magnifying glass trained on your inexperience in a way that makes you stiffen with nerves and awkwardness.

He must be appalled at how bad you are, especially after the litany of gorgeous, more experienced girls he’s been with over the years. You can’t believe you’re subjecting him to this, how would he ever look you in the eye afterwards -

But then, something shifts when his hands find your waist, palms easily spanning the small of your back as he pulls back for air, but only just, still so close that you can feel the tickle of his beard on your chin. There’s an unmistakable hitch in his breath, a tremour as he exhales, which in turns makes you tremble and switches off the unwelcome commentary in your head.

It’s as if he wants you.

Before you can think too hard, Frankie leans in and kisses you again, harder this time, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, and heat chases down your spine like a meteor. He sucks on your bottom lip when it falls open in a gasp, dipping between your lips with a clever swipe of his tongue against yours that makes you shudder and whimper, which he swallows with a possessive growl.

Your lungs are burning when he draws back, his nose still touching yours.

Then he calls your name.

You blink as your eyes open -

Frankie’s staring at you, lips parted, his gaze reverential. Like he’s never seen you before. Reaching up, he takes your face in his hands, calloused palms on your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the tears that won’t stop. You break into a watery grin, which he mirrors, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest, holding you close as everything falls into place -

Frankie’s eyes are brown.

Note: In case it's not clear, in this fic, everyone’s eyes appear grey. You can only see your soulmate's eye colour after you kiss them for the first time.

#fuckyeah2222sleepover #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales soulmates au #frankie morales college au #frankie morales imagine

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ssa-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart (are harder to hide than I thought)

Word Count: 7489

Summary: Daryl misreads Y/N's laughing and joking with Rick as flirting which leads to a fight between the pair where Daryl's hidden feelings for Y/N are revealed. Little does he know, she's felt the same way the whole time.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Rick Grimes

Warnings: Swearing, verbal fighting, mutual pining, smut, just the filthiest smut, oral sex (fem receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dom/sub, degradation kink, use of degrading terms (bitch, slut), punishments, spanking, dirty talk, hickeys, marking, possessive kink, kind of ownership kink too?, choking kink, biting, Daryl has a bit of an oral fixation, rough sex, crying, Daryl is generally very possessive and angry and it gets KINKY

A/N: Yet another Daryl request from here on Tumblr and oh boy am I going to hell for this one! Anon requested a fic with jealous Daryl where the reader and Rick have always been close and Daryl views it as flirting and ends up kissing the reader when he can't take it anymore leading to smut and I well, took it a slight step further. My mind really just ran wild with this prompt and this is probably the roughest, dirtiest smut I've written so I really hope this is still what you wanted from this request Anon! I hope you all enjoy angry possessive Daryl!

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

It took a long time for your group to find the comfort you had today, years on the road afraid of what would come next, fighting tooth and nail for every ounce of safety you found in Alexandria but it finally felt like the fight was worth it. On the quiet days that you let your mind forget what lay waiting for you beyond those walls, it almost felt like the old world again. It was a sense of normality you never thought you'd find again, walking up every morning under the same roof in your own home rather than the open skies of the woods or the concrete walls of the prison. Deanna had even found you a job taking shifts at the infirmary based on your first aid training.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Actually genuinely happy. When you weren't at work you spent your evenings helping the community, tending to the gardens and spending time with friends both new and old. You'd even taken up hosting the occasional dinner party alongside Aaron and Eric. You were content in your life, but still, there was something missing. You couldn't deny the bittersweet feeling of watching everyone around you settle down into relationships, some already happily married and some even starting families.

Relationships were the one element of your old life that you were admittedly finding it hard to settle back into. You had plenty of platonic relationships sure, some closer than others and you valued every single bond you'd created since you met this group back in Atlanta but after everything you'd lost, you were afraid if you let someone get that close again losing them would destroy you. No matter how safe you were in Alexandria this world was still cruel, and you'd learned that the hard way.

It was the exact reason why you hid what you really wanted from the one person you'd let yourself develop feelings for since this all began.

"This seat taken?" You were sitting out on your porch, your legs tucked up underneath you in your old rocking chair just watching the world go by when you heard his voice behind you. A bright smile broke out across your face as you looked up to see Rick standing with his hand on the back of the chair next to you.

"Not at all, please, sit down. You want a drink?" You asked gesturing towards the fresh jug of cold lemonade you'd made just before you came outside. Rick nodded politely at you as he took his seat and you leaned over to the little table beside you, grabbing the spare glass you kept by the jug. You always kept yourself prepared for visitors, a couple of the women from the community including Rosita and Carol had grown fond of stopping by and admittedly you enjoyed the company.

You listened to the satisfying noise of the ice clinking against the side of the jug as you poured a drink for Rick, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet, strangely familiar feeling of it all. Summer was quickly approaching and it filled the air with that warmth that wasn't yet overbearing but certainly made you appreciate the feeling of a cool drink.

"Thank you Y/N." Rick smiled at you, happily accepting the glass you held out to him before taking a sip. When you first found this group Rick was one of the first people to truly see your potential and he'd quickly become one of your best friends while he helped you become the fighter you were today. The two of you almost immediately formed a close bond and you knew you could always count on him to look out for you and you'd risked your life time and again to protect his family.

"Judith didn't wanna visit her favourite person in the whole town today?" You asked feigning a dramatic, hurt sigh as you pressed your hand over your heart. Judith was growing up so fast, having now reached the age where she was starting to say anything that came to her mind. It led to a rather hilarious situation for you when she blurted out that you were her favourite person to visit in front of Rosita, Carol and Maggie while the group was having dinner at Rick's house. They had sulked over her choice and she quickly followed it up by saying Daryl was her second favourite which only seemed to add insult to injury for them.

"No, she's got another play date with Gracie today. The pair of 'em are inseparable now." Rick chuckled lightly as he spoke, a peaceful look softening his features as he looked over at you. Judith was the light of his life, that much was clear from the way he talked about her. You could see the weight it has lifted off his shoulders now that he was able to give her the childhood she deserved.

"Oh that's good, it's good for them. Being able to play like kids again. She'll do well here Rick." You took a long sip from your drink while you watched Rick. There was something distracting him, something clearly on his mind as he stared out past the road in front of you, staring at nothing in particular. You gave him a curious look, balancing your drink on the arm of your chair before you spoke again. "What brings you out here anyway?"

"Headin' out on a run soon, just wanted some peace and quiet first before I gotta deal with that you know? Thought I'd stop by to say hi in the meantime." He shrugged, seemingly snapping back into the moment as he looked over at you and offered you a warm smile.

"Rick Grimes lookin' for some peace and quiet, I never thought I'd see the day. You were always lookin' for trouble when I first met you." You shot him a teasing grin as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with that look of mischief that always got you in trouble for your comments at town meetings.

"Hey, watch it you. You're one to talk 'bout lookin' for trouble." He scoffed reaching his arm out to lightly smack you for your dig at him. It truly did bring you comfort to see Rick and the kids growing into their new lives here, it was what they deserved after everything they'd been through. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

Rick's attitude changed then, his expression becoming more serious compared to your previous teasing. It wasn't serious enough to worry you but you knew what came next was going to be a personal question, something Rick seemed unsure about bringing up.

"Sure Rick, course you can." You nodded giving him your full attention.

"You and Daryl, is there something-"

Rick's question was cut short by a loud, sharp whistle from the road just below your porch, your trained instincts making your eyes immediately snap to the source of the noise. Daryl was leaning against a tree just to the side of your house, his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched the two of you. You offered him a warm smile, giving him a small wave when you spotted him but it was met with a cold, almost angry stare from him.

You could feel your happy expression fall from your face, a heavy feeling weighing on your chest at his reaction, unsure of what you'd done to seemingly upset him. It had taken a while, longer than with anyone else in the group but you'd developed a close friendship with Daryl, finally breaking down the walls he'd built so high around himself but sometimes he would shut you out again and you could never understand why. Maybe things would be simpler if you could understand even just a fraction of what went on inside his head.

"We gotta go Rick." That was the only form of acknowledgement or conversation the two of you got from him, even his tone towards Rick seemed different. There was none of that usual brotherly respect the two men held for each other present in his voice, instead, he sounded even more annoyed than usual.

"I'll see you 'round Y/N." Rick nodded at you, his hand resting on your shoulder as he bid his goodbyes, turning to jog down your front steps to catch up with Daryl. By the time he turned away from you, Daryl was already gone turning his back on the two of you without another word as he disappeared up the street.

"What is goin' on with him?" You muttered under your breath, letting out a frustrated sigh as you tapped your nails against your glass. You were growing increasingly concerned that he was angry with you over something you were unaware you'd done and you wished you could talk to him about it, find out what was on his mind but you knew you wouldn't get that chance until they returned from their run now.

What you didn't know was how long Daryl had been standing there, just out of sight, watching the way you and Rick laughed and joked together, catching every innocent touch. Or the way that scene looked to jealous eyes and a cruel imagination that couldn't hear the true conversation.

~~~

It was late when the knock finally came on your door, so late in fact that you'd started to pace, growing worried that you'd just have to give up and accept that he wasn't going to show. You knew who it was the second the three loud knocks echoed through the house, the sound sending your heart racing. You rushed through the kitchen and took one final breath before quickly pulling the front open to be greeted with the sight of Daryl standing on the other side. You opened your mouth to speak but the words died in your throat. You lost your nerve at the way Daryl stared you down, his eyes burning through you with that same angry look as earlier.

"Carol said ya wanted me. Whadda want?" He snapped at you, clearly unimpressed at your lack of conversation. His attitude was completely different towards you today, he was never this short or aggressive with you and on the rare occasion that he was it didn't last long, the anger not having been directed towards you in the first place. Today though, his anger seemed to very much be directed towards you. You hoped he'd have cooled down after your encounter that morning but he seemed just as irritated as he had then.

"I um- can you come in?" You stepped back from the entrance deciding that maybe your doorway wasn't the best place for this conversation as you held the door open for him and gestured for him to come inside. He stared you down for a moment as if he was considering abandoning this whole conversation, walking away before this got too far before he finally stepped inside. You crossed your arms in front of you, your fingers playing nervously with the fabric of your shirt as you started to speak again. "I was hopin' we could talk-"

"'Bout what?" Daryl's voice cut over you, not even letting you finish your sentence as he did everything he could to avoid looking you in the eyes. You could feel your annoyance growing at the sight of him scuffing his dirty boots against your wooden floors.

"What is goin' on with you Daryl?" You asked with more force than you'd originally intended. The original worry and hurt you'd felt were now melting away into frustration at whatever kind of childish tantrum he was having. No matter how much you trusted and respected Daryl you had your limits and you certainly weren't going to let him treat you the way he was without even giving you an explanation.

"Nuthin'."

"Oh, bullshit." You spat back. If there was one thing everyone respected about you it was your ability to put Daryl in his place, even if you did sink to his level in the process. If you wanted answers you were going to get them. "I mean seriously Daryl you've been all pissy with me all day. Did I do something to you? What is wrong?"

"Rick." You waited for more of an explanation, expecting that maybe the two were arguing but nothing came. You were becoming increasingly fed up with this conversation. Daryl was a man of few words and that was well known in Alexandria but now was hardly the time for him to decide he didn't want to talk. How could you be expected to find a way to fix this when he wouldn't even talk to you about it?

"What about him? Is there somethin' goin' on with the two of you? Will you just fuckin' talk to me, Daryl?"

"Nah. Ain't nuthin' goin' on with me and Rick but there is between the two of you, ain't there?" Daryl had been trying to bite his tongue on the subject. He knew he shouldn't bring it up but there was a fire burning in his eyes when they finally met yours and there was no putting it out now as it lit the explosive anger inside him. His voice rose in volume until he was almost shouting as he started to rant. "Saw the way you was with him this mornin'. All smilin' and laughin'. Flirtin' with those lil touches. Ya think the rest of us are fuckin' blind or sumthin'?"

His words were dripping with venom, finally releasing all of his anger that had been building over this situation for weeks as he drew closer to you. His face was inches away from yours and you could smell the smoke from the cigarette he'd lit up on the way to your house still on his breath. He was trying to intimidate you but you weren't going to let it happen as you held your chin up and stood your ground.

"You're jealous? You're actually fuckin' jealous?" You all but laughed in his face. It was entertaining to you, it truly was. What Daryl didn't realise was that even if anyone else in Alexandria was attracted to you in that way, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. There was something about your relationship with him that even Daryl hadn't caught onto yet.

You had denied it for a long time but the truth was you were attracted to the redneck from that first second you'd met him back in Atlanta. There was something about that fiery temper and defiance that drew you in and you couldn't fight it anymore not when it was on full display for you like this. Not when it was over how possessive Daryl had grown over you. You spent countless nights fantasising about what it would be like if you could get Daryl alone like this. If you could get him to unleash that anger on you.

"For fuck sake Daryl, Rick's like a brother to me. I was never flirtin' with him! All that smilin' and jokin' was about Judith and Gracie. Those touches? They're nothin' more than friendly. You wouldn't be havin' such a bitch fit over it if were Carol doin' it would you?" You squared up to him, not caring that you posed absolutely no threat to him as you leaned up towards his face trying to match his aggression.

"You think I'm stupid, girl?" He growled, his words vibrating low in his throat as he walked you backwards until you were trapped against the wall with nowhere else to run. The feeling should have scared you but as wrong as it was you could already feel the heat growing between your legs. "Don't lie to me. I heard Maggie sayin' you were spillin' all your fantasies to her, she was talkin' 'bout ya wantin' someone 'round here. It's clearly him."

"I really do think you're stupid if you haven't figured out who it really is yet." You bit back with a mocking smirk on your face. You were getting overconfident in just how much you could match Daryl's attitude without facing the consequences. "You wanna know what I really told Maggie? I told her how much I'd been thinkin' 'bout your hands on my body. How rough I thought you'd be with me. I told her how much I wished you'd just get the nerve to just fuck me already. But I mean if your just goin' to sulk instead maybe I should -"

Once you started you couldn't stop yourself from letting exactly how you felt about Daryl and everything you'd been dreaming of spill out before you could overthink it. It didn't matter anyway, he didn't give you a chance to regret it. Before you could even finish your sentence Daryl's hand was around your throat, squeezing the sides just enough to cut off the blood flow as he pressed you back into the wall behind you.

"You want me to show ya who ya belong to? Want me to fuck ya like I mean it huh? Prove I'm the only one who can fuck this pussy good?" Daryl's lips were ghosting over yours now, his breath hot against your skin as he held back from kissing you, teasing you. You were pressed so close together you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted out his anger. He was towering over you, completely caging you in and part of you wanted to melt. To entirely give into everything he wanted to do to you and let him take you over but you were too worked up for that now. Too frustrated and proud to play the role of the good girl.

"I'd like to see you try Dixon." You scoffed with a smug look in your eyes. You let your eyes drag over his body like you were inspecting goods out on a run, trying to keep your expression as unimpressed as you could. It was a challenge, one you knew Daryl would take. He had to. You knew what he was like when he got like this, knew how determined he was to prove a point. He was never going to back down from this, especially not when you challenged his ability. You wanted him to fuck you hard, to punish you for testing him and that was exactly what you were going to get.

"Don't be a fuckin' brat." His voice was low as he spoke, a warning of what was to come if you continued the way you were. He used his grip on your throat to pull you flush against his chest before slamming you back against the wall.

Your head tipped back against the wall as your hands found his wrist, trying to hold his hand in place as he threatened to move away. He hadn't been rough enough to hurt you, just enough to be forceful but part of you wanted him to tighten his grip, to leave a bruise against your skin in the shape of his hand. You gasped out at the feeling of him squeezing his hand again and he took the chance to finally kiss you. It was a rough and messy kiss, his tongue dragging over yours as his lips moved against you. "I'm gonna make sure everyone knows who ya fuckin' belong to. Show 'em who managed to make this brat submit."

His lips left your mouth, leaving sloppy kisses across your jaw until they found the junction where your jaw met your throat, sucking on the soft, sensitive skin before sinking his teeth in to make sure it left a mark. You cried out, your skin already burning under the feeling as your hands grasped the back of his neck, holding his mouth against your skin.

He smirked against your skin in between kisses, knowing you were enjoying it from the way you held him in place. He didn't let up, deciding that just one mark wasn't enough as he moved his mouth all across your neck, sucking and nipping until he was satisfied that you were covered. He pulled back to admire his work, looking at the purple marks that were already starting to blossom against your skin, the slight indents of his teeth, everything that marked you as his.

"Ya like that huh?" He hummed against the shell of your ear, his fingers trailing over the marks on your neck. The feeling of his light touch making shiver. "Like walkin' 'round with a reminder of the only one who can touch ya like this? Wearin' a reminder everyone can see?"

"Prove it." You panted out, that mischief still in your eyes as you watched for his reaction. You weren't going to give in to him so easily, even if you were already growing desperate from the simplest of touches. You'd been dreaming about this for too long to not get exactly what you wanted. "Prove that you're good enough to be the only one touchin' me. All I've seen so far is you talkin' a big game. Got the skills to back it up, pretty boy?"

Whatever small bit of restraint that Daryl had still been holding onto snapped at that moment. His hands were on you in a second, pulling at your clothes to finally feel your skin. He quickly grew tired of trying to wrestle with the small buttons of your shirt, instead grabbing at the top of the flannel and pulling.

You could hear the sound of the fabric ripping under his strength as the buttons popped and fell to the floor, revealing your heaving chest to him. You pushed the ruined fabric from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as Daryl made quick work of your bra, pulling it down your arms with one hand. His free hand was already groping at your chest before the bra even hit the ground as his thigh moved between your legs, pressing up into you to give you the friction you'd been craving.

You moaned out at the feeling of Daryl's mouth dropping to your chest, sucking another hickey into the curve of your breast where you already knew it would be visible above any of your low-cut tops. He moved his mouth downward, kissing over your skin until he took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue lapped over it, the feeling making you buck against his thigh. The drag against your clit was just right as Daryl kept up his pace, moving between your breasts listening to the gasps that fell from your mouth.

"Nah." He groaned grabbing at your hips as he decided your movements were getting too desperate, pinning you back against the wall to stop you from grinding against him. You could on his face how much self restrain it was taking for him to stop you, to take his time with this. "Nah if yer gonna cum it's gonna be while I fuck ya so hard ya can't walk for a week. Want to feel you cummin' on my dick. You ain't gonna cum like this. Don't get to cum 'til I say so."

"I wasn't gonna cum I promise." You whined out trying to buck your hips against his hands but his grip was too strong. You weren't going to get anything he wasn't willing to give you. He proved that point, pushing his thigh even further into you, giving you more pressure but none of the friction you were so desperate for. You wanted to break Daryl's rules, wanted to see just how far you could push him and above everything else you wanted to come, your body already so close to that edge. "Just wanna feel you, Daryl."

"You get yerself off before I say ya can and I swear yer gonna regret it." He warned, his voice holding that dangerous tone as his mouth returned to its place on your chest. He was playing his own game with you, testing you to see how far you were willing to let him go as his hands released their grip on your hips.

He knew you weren't going to listen if he gave you the opportunity to keep grinding against his thigh, you had a reputation for ignoring every instruction you were given. The thing was, you breaking his rules was all the permission he needed to play this rough.

You ground yourself against his thigh the second he let you go, moaning as the new pressure made the seam of your jeans rub against your clit even through your panties. Daryl's mouth trailed across your chest, biting and sucking at your skin while his hands groped at your ass, pulling you against him. He was toying with you, waiting to see how long it would take for you to beg him to stop, not able to take anymore before you came.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into his hair as you used the leverage to ride his thigh. You should have stopped, should have listened to his warning and told him how close you were but you couldn't help yourself. The heavy drag of denim against denim was driving you crazy, rubbing you just the right way as the friction built you closer and closer to orgasm. Before you could think to stop yourself your movements grew faster and more desperate, the feeling of Daryl's teeth grazing your nipple throwing you over the edge.

"Daryl - oh fuck -" You threw your head, the dull pain from your head colliding with the wall only heightened the feeling as your arms tightened around his neck, one hand scratching across his clothed shoulders. You barely had time to come down before you felt Daryl's hand around your throat again, pulling you back to the reality of what you'd just done. Your head was already swimming from the force of your orgasm and his hand squeezing your throat had your eyes fluttering shut.

"You stupid fuckin' bitch." Daryl growled forcing your face up to meet the fiery look in his eyes. That anger you loved was still as strong as ever as you struggled against his grip, your breathing coming more laboured than before as his hand restricted it. "I warned ya but clearly you can't fuckin' listen. Gonna show ya what happens to brats that can't learn to behave. You wanna cum so badly? Gonna make ya cum until ya beg me to stop and then some more. Not gonna stop until I ruined ya."

"Oh god, Daryl, please." You gasped out, your hips bucking in search of his again already. Your mind was racing with the idea of what Daryl was about to do to you and you knew none of it could live up to the reality of what was about to happen. Even after the orgasm you'd just had you could feel the need building again in the pit of your stomach, the way your heart raced under his hardened stare. "I need it please."

"Look at ya, just came on my thigh and yer already beggin' for me like some dumb slut. You want that don't ya? Want me to use ya until yer all fucked out, can't even remember yer own name?" Daryl's degrading words shouldn't have turned you as much as they did but you were already putty in his hands. He was right. You wanted to be used by him in whatever way he saw fit. He could do whatever he wanted to you at this point and you'd thank him even if it left you bruised for a week.

"Ya really liked my mouth on these tits that much huh?" He asked, punctuating his question by roughly groping at your chest again, his thumbs swiping over your nipples. "I know somewhere else I could put it to good use to make ya cum. Gonna eat yer pussy 'til yer drippin' down my face. Where's yer bedroom?"

"It's - it's -" Your words trailed off into a broken moan as Daryl dropped his hand to cup you through your jeans, his fingers running over your clit even through the material. He thrust his fingers against you, watching the reaction on your face as he mimicked the movements of fingering you over your jeans. The feeling had you moving your hips against him, praying he would just slip his hand inside the waistband of your jeans. Any thought of the question he'd asked you was long gone as your brain completely gave in to him.

"Never fuckin' mind then. Here's good enough. Are ya really that drunk on the thought of me fuckin' ya already?" Daryl dropped to his knees in front of you and roughly pulled at your jeans, undoing the button before he pulled them down your legs in one swift movement.

You could see his eyes darken as they focused on the wet spot on the front of your panties that you were sure had probably soaked onto your jeans too. He wasted no time, peeling the soaked material away from your body and throwing it to the side to join your jeans. He ran his fingers up the inside of your legs, starting at your knee and stopping at the apex of your thigh, feeling how slick your skin was there. "Already drippin' down yer thighs for me. You want me to fuck ya that badly?"

"Yes, yes Daryl need you to make me cum again please." You gasped out feeling the way he ran his hands up the inside of your thighs again, stopping just before he got to where you really needed to feel him. His lips followed the path his hands had just taken, moving painfully slow as he teased you. He stopped to suck at the inside of your thigh, marking every part of your body that he touched as his. He stuck his tongue out and leaned towards your clit before diverting to your hip bone at the last second, driving you out of your mind with frustration as you tried to press your thighs together for any form of friction. "Daryl fuck sake, please just -"

You yelped at the feeling of Daryl's teeth sinking into the side of your thigh as he pulled your hips closer to his face, his tongue soothing over the sting his bite left behind.

"Watch yer tone Darlin'. You got yourself into this mess, yer gonna take yer punishment like the good lil' slut you are." His fingers traced over the red mark that was raising on your thigh as he spoke, distracting you with the feeling of his feather-light touches before he dived in, lapping his tongue across your folds.

You jerked forward at the sudden feeling shooting through your body, your hand grasping at his hair. He was messy, making sure every inch of you got attention as he kissed and sucked everywhere he could reach. He grabbed at the backs of your thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder to spread you out even more to his tongue, his lips finally closing around your clit. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Goddamn woman you taste like fuckin' candy. Wanna taste you cummin' on my tongue."

Daryl didn't give you a chance to process his words before his mouth was on you again, lapping up everything he could. Your fingers in his hair tightened, pulling at the strands as he traced his tongue around your clit in tight circles before sucking on it harshly. You were quickly learning that his sharp tongue was good at more than just biting insults, your thighs squeezing around his head. He didn't seem to care about your tightening grip as he dipped his tongue down to tease around your entrance, listening to the way you whimpered and whined before he pushed it inside of you.

Your hips pressed forward against his face at the feeling of his tongue inside you, his name a broken cry on your lips. He grabbed your hips, tilting them forward so his nose bumped against your clit with each movement. Daryl put everything he had into eating you out, a concentrated look taking over his features as he pressed his whole face into you while his arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place, letting him take whatever he wanted from you. He flattened his tongue inside you, grazing against your g-spot and the feeling combined with the pressure on your clit had you coming again.

You cried out as you spasmed around his tongue, your knees almost giving out as you doubled over his head, your hands sliding down from his hair to grasp at his back. His name was a broken moan on your lips as he worked you through your orgasm, his tongue never stopping its movements. You expected him to ease off once your body started to slow down again but instead, he pulled his tongue out, licking you clean before moving his tongue to clit again as he slid two fingers inside of you.

"Daryl what - ah - what are doin'?" You pulled at his hair trying to pull his attention away from your already sensitive clit, the feeling almost too much for you already.

"I never said I was done with ya. You felt too good cummin' 'round my tongue to just leave it at one." Was the only response you got as he dove back in, his lips finding your clit again. His fingers hooked in just the right place on every thrust while he found a steady rhyme with his tongue. Your breathing was broken, every second breath a whimper or moan. Your orgasm was building quicker than you'd ever felt before and you knew you were already close.

Daryl's hand came up to grab at your waist, using his grip and your leg slung over his shoulder as leverage to hold you up against the wall as your legs started to shake. His hand slid across to press against your stomach as the cries of his name started to come quicker, louder with each thrust. He pushed a third finger into you and you screamed out his name at the unexpected feeling. The slight burn as he stretched you out only added to the pleasure he was bringing you.

One more particularly rough thrust of his fingers against your g-spot had you coming around him again. You clenched around his fingers as your legs finally gave out, your eyes snapping shut at the intense orgasm that ripped through your body. Daryl slowly pulled his fingers out of you and stood up again, his grip on you the only thing keeping you standing as every muscle in your body tensed. He pulled you in a kiss, slow and messy as he moved his tongue against yours in the same way he had as he ate you out, letting you taste yourself off his lips.

"Three down, how many more can ya handle? Bet this sweet pussy's gettin' sensitive." He proved his point as he dropped his hand down to tease at your clit, feeling the way your whole body shuddered against him. His hands were back on your waist in an instant, pulling you away from the wall as he lead you over to the kitchen counter. He spun you in his arms letting his hands roam across your body as your head tipped back against his shoulder. Your skin was already sticky with sweat, your breath feeling impossible to catch.

Your hips met the hard surface of the counter and you could feel the bulge in Daryl's pants pressing against your ass as he stepped in behind you, holding you tight against his body. He leaned back slowly running his hand up your spine until he reached your neck, messily wrapping your hair around his hand. You gasped out when he shoved you forward by the makeshift ponytail, bending you over the counter. He tightened his grip on your hair and pulled, hard, forcing your head to snap back so he could catch your mouth in another bruising kiss.

"Better brace yerself for this. Gonna fuck you all hard and rough, just like ya wanted." He warned as his hands left your body, the sound of the scrape of the metal zipper on his pants filling the room. He quickly undid the button and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, not even bothering to fully undress. You reached your hands out in front of you trying to find any purchase on the counter that you could as you pressed your cheek against the cool granite surface.

You were waiting for Daryl's next move, your heart racing with anticipation as you couldn't see Daryl moving behind you in this position. You couldn't even prepare yourself for how big he would be as you realised you still hadn't seen him undress and yet here you were, fully undressed, writhing against the counter for him. You cried out, your hips pressing even further into the counter as you tried to arch away from the pain of Daryl's strong hand landing roughly on your ass. A second later the harsh sting landed on the other side of your ass. A whimper fell from your lips at the pain but you'd be lying if you said the feeling of your skin burning under his hits wasn't turning you on beyond belief.

"Yer ass looks even better all marked up with my handprint," Daryl growled in your ear as he leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grabbed at your ass. You could feel his cock dragging against you in this position and the feeling of it had you pushing up on your toes, trying to get Daryl to hurry up and fuck you already. "Might have to take ya over my knee if ya don't learn to behave yerself."

Daryl was already worked up in a way that clouded his mind to anything but his goal of fucking you. He was painfully hard from seeing you getting off on him so many times already and it didn't take much convincing for him to shove his cock inside you. He pushed himself all the way in with one hard thrust, his hand pressing down on the small of your back as he held you in place.

You moaned out at the feeling of him filling you up in a way you'd never felt before when you were already so sensitive and he didn't give you a chance to adjust to his thick length. He pulled out until only the tip was still inside you and then slammed back in, setting a cruel pace as he fucked you hard.

Your nails scratched against the surface of the counter trying to find any way to ground yourself in the moment as your brain started to melt, his hips snapping against you so hard you were sure it would leave bruises in the morning. You cried out with each thrust, your moans mixing with his own grunts as the drag of cock against your walls was already becoming too much for you. Daryl's hand found its way around your throat again as he pulled you up until you were flush against his chest.

"Promise ya you wouldn't be able to walk for a week, everyone's gonna see you limpin' 'round after this. Who do ya belong to Darlin'?" He hummed against your ear, his voice was rough and broken as he spoke. He littered kisses all across your jaw, his hands roaming across your chest to grab at your breasts.

"Y-you." You stuttered out barely able to form a coherent thought anymore with the force of his thrusts against you while you drew closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. It was like each thrust pulled any of the bratty fight you'd had earlier in the night from your body.

"Who's pussy is this?" His voice was growing deeper, more possessive as he dropped a hand to tease your clit while his hips never let up their rough pace. You could tell he was losing himself in this feeling just as much as you were.

"Yours- yours Daryl - oh fuck - ah I can't - I'm gonna -" You couldn't take it anymore, Daryl making you admit out loud that you were all his sending you straight into another orgasm. You came hard, a white light exploding behind your eyes as they snapped shut, his fingers still drawing circles around your clit. You whined out, collapsing back against his chest as you tried to grab at his wrist, the feeling of his fingers against you too much for you to handle along with his cock inside you.

"That's right. Mine. Yer all mine." He growled out at the feeling of you clenching around his cock. You could tell he wasn't far behind you, getting closer to his own release as his words started to slur, his head falling to the back of your shoulder where your hair was plastered to your sweat-soaked skin. "Pretty lil' pussy just for me. Nobody else could ever fuck ya as good as this. You know ya can only get it as good as this from me. Nobody else is gonna treat ya as rough as ya need."

Daryl's arm tightened around your waist, clinging to your body as he continued to thrust into you, drowning out your moans and whimpers with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that were mostly teeth and tongue as he fought to keep up his rhyme. No matter how much your body tried to fight it you could feel another orgasm building inside of you as each thrust hit against your g-spot.

You couldn't kiss Daryl back anymore, your mouth hanging open in a loud gasp as a heavy feeling settled in your chest, weighing down on your lungs as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. The tension in the pit of your stomach was starting to snap again, you could feel the strain with each thrust.

"I can't - I can't not again Daryl please - it's too much - oh fuck please -" You screamed as he held you close to him, helping you ride it out as another orgasm ripped through you. Your body couldn't take anymore, going numb in his arms as the tears you'd been fighting back spilt freely down your cheeks.

"Mine." Daryl made his point by biting at your shoulder as he thrust into you one last time, the sight of you coming again and so forcefully tipping him over the edge with you. He held himself deep inside you as he came, his own breathing becoming broken against your shoulder as he held you both against the counter. He didn't trust his own legs to support your weight as well as his own as his hand ran comfortingly across your stomach. "S'okay. So good, ya did so good. Did so well for me. Fuck Darlin' yer perfect."

Once he had recovered a little more he slowly pulled out of you, cautious of just how sensitive you were now and turned you around in his arms as he reached a hand up to brush away your tears with his thumb. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss, the softest he'd been with you all day, every ounce of his previous anger now melted away. He pulled you into a tight, comforting hug as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. He left a trail of light kisses across the marks he'd left on your neck earlier in the night and then cupped your face, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Didn't mean to make ya cry. Did I really hurt ya?" He said softly, the concern written all over his face as he brushed your hair away from your face where it was stuck down with sweat. "Think I lost control a little."

"It's okay." You reassured him with a small nod. Your body was slowly coming down at last as you clung to his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of him holding you. You pushed up on your toes to kiss him letting yourself smile into the contact as he cupped the side of your face. "I'm okay I promise. You only hurt me a little and I mean, I all but begged for that. In fact, I'm more than just okay Daryl. That was incredible, I've never felt anything like that. I need to make you jealous more often. Maybe I should flirt with Spencer next."

"I wouldn't recommend that." Daryl chuckled then, the sound was sweet but you could see that fierce look back in his eyes. "I like Rick, Spencer? I might actually break his jaw for touchin' ya."

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2

#aoife writes fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon/reader

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bisexual-horror-fan · 4 months

Note

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

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The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy.

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent.

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry.

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her.

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment.

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea.

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?”

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.”

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-”

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.”

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.”

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order.

She practically drags you back to the bedroom.

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.”

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her.

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours.

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.”

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better.

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.”

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead.

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.”

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips.

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.”

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on.

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally.

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face.

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.” You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing.

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well.

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees.

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt.

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom.

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.”

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are.

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-”

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife.

You feel it.

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close.

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself.

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts.

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor.

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.”

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her.

#Ghostface x reader #Sam Carpenter x reader #Slasher x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HERE WE ARE #ENJOY THE FILTH #Scream 6 x reader

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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jwirecs · 1 year

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RECOMMENDED ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU💍

hello, hello! here are my arranged marriage au - nct recs! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers💝

requested by anon (i literally went through 44 pages of my svt tag and i dont think i’ve read any skz arranged marriage aus, so for now, its just nct..)

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Before I Go || @yutaholic🔞💕💔✅ (doyoung x reader)

↳ The day has come for you to marry Doyoung and life as a princess is not what you expected. Your new husband is distant and there is trouble stirring within the monarchy. Now more than ever, you are determined to kindle a romance with the prince, but you soon learn that your marriage will be put to the test in ways you could never have imagined.

Binding Bonds || @jaedore🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ Being the daughter of a top fashion brand, an arranged marriage isn’t what you’d expect coming out of your mother’s mouth. Especially when she says that it’s with Jung Jaehyun, the son of the CEO who owns one of the biggest trading companies. Of course he’s a heartthrob, a ladies’ man, and prince in the media, but in reality, he’s a royal pain in the ass. Your patience, emotions, and sanity is tested when you’re forced to share a life together. Will it crumble to the ground of the empire you’ve build or will there be a change of heart?

Coming Home || @cupofjae🔞💕💔✅ (yuta x reader, smau)

↳ an arranged marriage between two of the most powerful families drives a son away from the only home he has ever known. however, two long years past in success until his past comes knocking on his door, literally.

Lucky Number Seven || @paintmebare🔞💔✅💯💯💯 (johnny x reader)

↳ When your less than lovely cousin makes a jab at you, you finally snap and tell her that you're dating her ex-boyfriend (even though you haven't spoken since high school). Johnny agrees to play the role of your boyfriend, though the longer you pretend to be in love, the more you realize you might actually be crushing on him.

MOON RIVER || @ppangjae🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ Your mother warned you of many boys. She’s warned you of the immature ones, the players, and even the fools and cowards. But man, she has never warned you of guys like Jeong Jaehyun, the President’s son, who seems to be falling in love with you with every passing day even though he’s already engaged to someone he’s been set up to marry.

***Seeds of Pomegranates || @/anashins🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ (this was also included in my feb-march nct fic recs, so please do head over to that post! this isnt under the arranged marriage type of au, but it gives off the vibes of it to me!)

Anon Request || @alluringjae🔞💔✅ (jeno x reader)

↳ Anon: “ hi dear for the birth months special can you do this as angsty as you can. angst “ you weren’t there...why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!” and “All I wanted was a happy ending.” + prompt ‘As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you’ THANKYOUUU

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct arranged marriage au #nct fic recs #nct recs #nct: asks #nct 127: asks #nct dream: asks

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 month

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Can you write a fic where Ethan doesn’t want to be a Ghostface so he tells reader the truth and they warn the rest of the group then run away together

ethan hasn’t killed anyone (cause that would defeat the purpose of him not wanting to be gf) but this is after quinn and anika’s death. only convenient time for this conversation to take place. also i didn't add running away cause i feel it wouldn't make sense for reader to leave their friends behind durning all this, so maybe anon if you really want that i could possible do a follow up to them having a happy life.

gn!reader masterlist

“i- i have something to tell you.” ethan whispered in your ear, drawing your attention away from your anxious friends. you were gonna prompt him to tell you, but when you say the worry on his face you excused the both of you.

sliding into the bathroom with ethan on your heels, you sat on the edge of the tub while ethan leaned his weight against the door. “what’s wrong?” noting how ethan kept his eye to his feet, hands twisting below his stomach.

“what i’m about to tell you… just know i was forced to be apart of because of my family. things would have been worse if i- i just hope you can forgive me.” ethan finally looked up and at you. eyes soft and face open, waiting for something.

you shifted a little, worried whatever he says crosses your morals. “okay… but only if you actually tell me what it is.”

“okay,” he took a deep breath then said, “my family is ghostface.”

you froze, “i’m sorry, what?” keeping your voice composed, miraculously.

“my- my dad, sister and i. we’re related to richie, the guy sam killed in woodsboro last year. my dad is detective bailey and my sister is-“ “quinn.” putting those two pieces together.

you waved your hands around for a moment, “wait, so quinn didn’t die yesterday? only anika? then who was ghostface? were- were you the one who-“ “no! no, i wasn’t. it- it was my dad.”

ethan took two steps closer in his rush to correct you and you couldn’t hide the faint flinch it produced, but you saw his face fall. ethan noticed that you’ve become afraid of him. “my- my dad wanted it to be me, but i was enjoying my night and didn’t want to leave.”

that caused your heart to stutter, in the good developing a fat crush on a boy kind of way. you and ethan were having a study date at a diner two blocks from campus, and it seemed sweet when he phrased it that way but then your mind started turning.

“wait, was i just an alibi? if you went through with it, i would have defended a murder to my friends. what the fuck, ethan?” standing to your feet, face getting warm with heat. heart thumping at this alternate outcome.

"i know, i know. yes. you were designed to be my alibi, but I never fully wanted to be a part of all this, i only joined at first cause my whole family was a wreck after my brother died. my hands are free of blood but my conscious is pooling with guilt, that's why i'm telling you this so then we can then warn the others. i trust you the most out of everyone."

ethan took a step closer and instead of flinching or moving back, you stood your ground keeping a keen eye on him. "you swear you've had no part in anything so far? cause i can't trust or defend you if there is a drop of blood on your hands." staring up at him with pleading, hopeful eyes.

with this new information you didn't want to mistake him for a nerdy, shy good guy. but the ethan you know is the shy (flushing whenever chad tried to wingman him to you or any girl), a little nerdy (whiling to go into film debates with mindy when she was in a trusting mood) and he was genuinely a good, sweet guy. he'd always walk you home when it was dark outside, he'd buy you food or drinks whenever you're together for hours, and he'd always uplift you; complimenting you from your accomplishments to how you looked that day. that's the ethan landry you've gotten to know the past six months, you don't want to lose him.

his whiskey-brown eyes danced around, pinballing over the place. his tongue peeking out to wet his plush pink lips, your eyes followed the action. you felt his hand bump into your own, looking down to see him linking your pinkies together.

"i swear i have done no harm to anyone. when everything started to feel real i knew this wasn't the healthy decision, it's not worth losing everything i've gained. this group is more of a family to me and- and i don't want to lose you because of a revenge fantasy." brows pinching and eyes changing to a doe expression.

“what- what are you… what about your actual family? would they kill you or disown you? doesn’t- doesn’t that bother you in anyway?” watching how ethan’s face didn’t change, just a simple shrug in response.

“it doesn’t matter. nothing matters but this, so no it doesn’t bother me… completely.” bringing his free hand to your cheek, cupping your apple and rubbing at the growing dark circles. ethan leaned his head closer, “i mean it when i don’t want to lose you. i want to get the opportunity to build a future with you, get our degrees, take you out on dates and so much further down the line.”

“i’d- i’d like that too…” trailing off as you both leaned in and locked lips. hand reaching out to grasp onto the hem of ethan’s shirt, pinkies curling tighter, with ethan treating you like a fine piece of china. if this weren’t such a dire situation you would happily indulge further, but you kept it short and sweet before being the first to lean away.

“run away with me,” ethan sighed against your wet lips. your eyes fluttered open to see his dream stare. “can- can we do that?”

“after.” silently agreeing to flee with ethan, “but after all this. we can’t leave our friends behind and you’ll help us have the upper hand.” making a move to the bathroom door.

you pulled ethan behind you and brought the both of you back to the living room. all eyes turned to you and ethan, having been gone for almost ten minutes now.

“were you two making out? seriously? now?” mindy complained with an eye roll. you deadpanned her with a simple, “yes and, ethan has something to share will all of you.” stoned eyes melting into honey as you urged him on, “you can do this.” giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

#erin's blurb request #ethan landry x you #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x gn!reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry scream 6 #jack champion scream 6

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months

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Paper rings 🩷

Jason Todd x singer!reader

A/N: I have to be honest, half of this is cat content ngl. This is based off the song by T. Swift :) Catdad!Jason is real because I say so. I geeked out and somehow love for greek mythology always find its way into my Jason fics idk

Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: reader is a singer who writes a song for Jason. How does he react?

Requested by: 🌙 anon

Warnings: fluff all around! Cute kitty moments, the concert parts may be all wrong idk what I'm doing lmao

Word count: 1.8k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

🎤°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°☁️°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🎤

You let out a sigh as you got into your car. It had been a long day in the studio, recording new songs for your latest album. Your throat hurt, but you were happy with the progress you had made today. Starting the car, you made your way home to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Jason.

It was his birthday soon, and you'd planned a little surprise, not only for him but for your fans as well. You had written him a song, one that would be on your newest record. You smiled only thinking about it, you couldn't wait to pull off this surprise.

The show you were performing tomorrow in Gotham was no ordinary one. You'd called it the "Jazz on Special", which was just a a play on Jason. Your lovely, yet sometimes a little daft lover had not gotten the hint. Good.

He always attended your concerts, watching from backstage, giving his support. The moment you stepped off stage, he was immediately one you, showering you in compliments and kisses, telling you how proud he was of you.

So you figured this was the least you could do to show your appreciation for him. You wanted the whole world to know how much he actually meant to you, scream it into the crowds. So that's excatly what you were going to do.

Unlocking your apartment door, you stepped in, dropping your keys in the little dish right by the entrance. You could hear footsteps the minute the door closed. Jason came towards you, with a big smile and open arms. "How was your session today, Baby?" He asked, wrapping you in his strong and comforting arms. You snaked your arms around his waist and hid your face against his chest. "Was really good. My throat is sore though, I need some tea." You mumbled, letting a content sigh to be in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head.

"I'll make you some, got get comfy, okay?" He said softly, stroking your hair. "Thanks, Jay," you replied, slipping from his embrace with smile. You went to put on a change of clothes. You did wear comfortable clothes to your recording sessions, but you had to dress it up at least little bit with some jewelry. It probably wouldn't be the best look to show up to work in your kitty PJs.

After having changed into said kitty PJs, you plopped down on the couch next to Jason and your cat, Nyx. She was a black stray with a white streak on her forehead. You'd picked her up from a local animal shelter, you just couldn't resist her cute little white paws that made her look like she wore socks and the fact that she matched Jason. It was supposed to be his Christmas gift one year, but you just couldn't keep her to yourself.

Although you got her for Jason, he insisted you name her, his reasoning being that she got her looks from dad so her name should be from mom. And yes, you do treat her like your child. You named her Nyx, after the greek goddess. She was the first, daughter of Chaos, night incarnate. You thought that it fit, with Jason being the protector of Gothams street at night. And in a way, you were grateful to her, to Mother Night, for holding Jason safely in her dark yet loving embrace.

"Nyxieeee!! There you are my sweet girl! I missed you SO much, yes I did," you beamed in a high pitched baby voice, scratching her face. You stole her off Jason's lap, making him huff. Taking her into your arms, you placed overly dramatic kisses on her tiny head. She didn't seem to mind, though, rubbing her cheeks against your hand and purring. Jason's face softened at the sight.

You looked so precious like this, the cat curled up in your arms as you cooed at her. You'd be a little embarrassed about your habit of talking to animals in a baby voice if Jason too, wasn't guilty of it as well. He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him. "You know, technically that's my cat," he said with a smirk on his face. You shot him a glare.

"Technically, you wouldn't have her without me and you asked me to be her mom. She's my child too, Jason!" You responded playfully. He threw his head back, laughing. "I guess she is, huh. Thank you for being the mother of my furrbaby." He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It's my absolute pleasure, baby."

You were getting sleepy, your eyes unvoluntarily fluttering shut ever so often. Nyx was curled up on your lap, peacefully snoozing away while Jason was intently watching whatever was playing on the TV. You took a sip of the tea Jason had so lovingly prepared for you. Setting the mug back down on the coffee table, your gaze shortly fell on Nyx and- wait

You had to do a double take. She had one of her small paws reached out towards Jason who was gently holding it and without paying much mind, softly stroking his thumb over it. Your heart was about to explode. Your lips were slightly parted and your eyes were wide, looking at Jason completely bewildered. He noticed your stare, turning his head towards you with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked, the question slightly muffled by the hand that was supporting his head. "That's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen," you mumbled, the shock pretty evident in your voice as you gestured to his huge hand that was ever so softly caressing Nyx's comparably tiny paw. His eyes softened.

"It is, isn't it? The first time she did it I was practically shaking from excitement," he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. Your brows shot together. "What do you mean 'the first time'?! Has she done this before? AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME?!" You yelled in disbelief. How dare he keep something so precious from you.

"Sorry, Baby."

"Unbelievable."

Today was the day. The day you would pour your heart out in front of Gotham. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. The blood in your veins was at boiling point and you were seconds away from a panic attack. Fiddling with the two colorful paper rings you had made for today, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. This was fine. You were fine. You've literally done this hundreds of times. But would Jason like it? God, you hoped he would.

Before you could overthink more, you heard your cue through your earpiece and it was showtime.

The 'normal' part of the concert went well, you performed some of your best songs, the crowd was amazing and it was overall an incredible night. You'd talked to your fans a little on stage between songs, receiving some nice little gifts here and there. Flowers, plushies as well as a bra was thrown on stage. Well that was a first. Not that you complained, you were rather flattered, actually.

It was nice to know that you had the ladies on your side. Jason, who was watching from backstage, almost keeled over with laughter when he saw you pick up the under garment, completely bewildered. He would never let you live this down.

"Alright, Gotham," you said breathlessly, "before our lovely night comes to an unfortunate end, I have prepared a little something. Not only for you, but also for my special someone, who might or might not be here today," cheering could be heard from the audience as you fixed your earpiece and chuckled breathlessly into the microphone.

Singing and jumping around stage sure was a work out.

"This is a song I've not shared publicly, as it is from my new album, but I thought I'd make a little exception for all of you and at the same time be the best girlfriend and make the coolest birthday present ever!" You laughed. The moment you mentioned that it was a new song the crowd absolutely lost their shit. You don't think any of your concerts have ever been this loud. Your eardrums nearly burst at the sheer volume of teenage girls screaming their souls out.

"Here's Paper rings. This is for you, Jason." You said with a smile on your face. The music started playing and it's like all your worries faded away. You'd been waiting for this moment for weeks, to finally share this song and your love for Jason. As you sang the lyrics, a compilation of cute and silly pictures of you and Jason ran over the huge screen behind you. Some were of you and Jason in a face mask, others were of Jason cuddling with Nyx. You occasionally glanced over to Jason who was doing his best to hold back his tears with the biggest smile on his face. Your heart swelled at the sight.

With the last bit of music fading out, you finished the song and bowed. The picture remaining on the screen was of you and Jason kissing with a sunset in the background. A heart was drawn around it. The minute the last words left your lips, Jason was storming on stage, showering you in kisses. He held you tightly against him, peppering kisses all over your face. His actions made you giggle into the microphone and the crowd went wild. The security guards were really struggling by this point.

You grabbed Jason's hand and slipped one of the two paper rings on his finger, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. The dam broke. There were happy tears rolling down his cheeks as he continued kissing you. Managing to pull away, you addressed your fans one last time. "Thank you, and Good Night, Gotham!"

You squealed when Jason unexpectedly picked you up bridal style and whisked you off stage, your head thrown back in laughter. It was safe to say you were on the front page of the Gotham Gazette the next day.

Jason was talking his heart out on the way home, talking about how much he loved it and how much he loved you. You were listening patiently, holding his hand while a big smile was plastered on your cheeks.

Now, you found yourself in the familiar spot on the couch, Jason's arms wrapped around you with little Nyx making biscuits on your thigh. "I have one question for you, though," you said, turning your head to Jason. "What is it?" He replied softly.

"How the fuck did you not get the play on your own name?"

"Oh, shut up." He pouted, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You let out a soft laugh.

"I love you too, Baby."

🎤°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°☁️°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🎤

#bumblebeesfromvenus #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #batboys x reader

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amywritesthings · 18 days

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SILVER UNDERGROUND TURNS ONE TODAY!

On April 7, 2023, I posted the first chapter of a story that completely changed the trajectory of my fanfic career. Silver Underground is my debut Attack on Titan (and anime!) longfic that's pushing 90k words -- my longest fic to date. And I just hit 1.9k followers, which is so crazy to think about.

I never thought anyone would read it, much less have it become my most engaged story on both AO3 and Tumblr. I've met some incredible people through this story, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say thank you ! ! !

Thank you for all of your kind reblogs. Thank you for commenting and replying. Thank you for all of your wonderful questions and anon messages in my inbox. And thank you, truly, for recommending SU to others. This fic would not exist at Chapter 21, just a few chapters before its finale, without you all.

Without further ado, let's celebrate ~

DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS -- For the next week, my inbox is open for SU drabble or one shot requests. I'm happy to write missing scenes from the flashbacks, prompts, and Levi POVs of your choice. 18+ steamy requests are allowed.

GROUP PLAYLIST -- Have a song that reminds you of SU? I'll create a shareable Spotify link with everyone's songs (along with my own personal SU songs I've use for writing the story for the last year!)

AMA -- Ask me anything about the series! Want to know what James and Levi did during one of Levi's birthday? Why 'James'? Interested in hearing my favorite AOT fics? New at writing and want to create your own story? I'm happy to answer!

TAG ME! -- Have a moodboard for SU? A playlist of your own? Fan art? I'll check it out and reblog and give you a thousand smooches for being so wonderful.

Tap here to find my inbox! Happy Birthday, SU!

xo love, amy

#snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #silver underground #fic sleepover #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

Note

Hello! Big fan of your blog, I'm really happy to see you ariund again, and I hope you're doing well!

I know you get a lot of questions about writing and comment, but do you maybe have any tips or advice for a writer struggling to respond to comments? I've managed to overcome being afraid to post, and I've received some lovely comments, but I got struck by a horrible new wave of anxiety that has me locking up when I want to reply to nice commenters. Now it's been a long time since the comments were made and I feel bad both for not answering more promptly but also for not posting since.

I hope that's okay to ask, I realized it may be a bit overly specific, and I apologize for that. ^^;

Oh anon, this isn't overly specific at all! You'd be surprised how many authors go through exactly this same thing, myself included.

I genuinely love responding to comments, and yet for the past several years it's been hard. Really hard. I still appreciate them. I still read and reread them. I still think about responding to them. I just... can't. My inbox grew to the size that just thinking about tackling the whole thing became totally overwhelming.

So instead, I just respond when I can.

When I'm rereading a fic and going back through the comments and I notice I didn't reply to one. When I get a comment notification in my email and I have a minute right then and I just type something right back. When I can't stop thinking about that question someone asked until I finally dig it out and answer it. When someone is just so lovely or friendly or enthusiastic, and I have the spoons to return their message in kind.

One thing I think it's important to remember is that a thank you or a heart emoji can go a long way to getting your message across. Another thing to remember is that a thank you can still be sincere when you've said it a thousand times.

We can really psych ourselves out of doing something by worrying about others judging us. But other people are often kinder to us than we are to ourselves. Ask most readers, and they don't care if a reply comes after 5 minutes or 5 months or 5 years. Hearing back from the author is appreciated - and if often prompts a reread of the fic.

Give yourself patience and understanding. Reply to the comments you're able to and forgive the ones you can't reply to yet. Maybe in time, you'll come back and have something to say. In the meantime, you can always add an end note to your fic saying that comments are appreciated and you'll reply when you can. ❤️

#asks and answers

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welcometomyoasis · 4 months

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end of year appreciation post

this year has been an emotional rollercoaster, but i wouldn't change a thing because i found svt and all of you 💕

sending a huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who interact with my posts. whether you follow my blog, like, reblog, send asks, or leave comments, just know i appreciate every single one of you.

as for my moots. thank you all for the laughs and interactions. i love you all so so much. so to express my appreciation, here's a list of which svt member i think you all would be because what fun is being carat if we can't do things like this.

@brownsugarbaybee Kari as seungcheol. Need I say more? In the way that seungcheol is the naturally protective alpha who babies his members, you do the same for me. You’re like the older sister I never had. You make me feel so safe, protected, and loved when I talk to you. I’m really socially awkward irl and am actually always afraid that I’ll say the wrong things, but with you, you never make me feel bad for sending too many asks, or spamming you through dms. You really create a safe environment for your followers and friends and I cannot thank you or express my gratitude enough for that. You were the first person i talked to ever (on anon) on tumblr and our friendship just grew from there. I love how we check in on each other frequently and randomly pop into each other’s asks just to say we missed each other. I’m always so happy when i see that you’ve sent me an ask/ dm. We’re like two magnets that can’t stay away from each other. I love that so much. Just like I love you. Here’s to a lot more love and interactions next year! (and yes, i’m dming you more mushy stuff later shhhh) 🤭

@wonijinjin Gigi as joshua. You're my actual other half? My soul sister? Like you notice there's no jeonghan on this list because you're my evil, lovable twin (okay you knew there was no jeonghan I texted you about this a month ago). FR THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN US? From our bias lists, our need for perfectionism, our food cravings, us getting distracted all the time when we’re supposed to be doing work, to even the fact that we have the same frame for our glasses and hair colours. I could go on. Joshua suddenly appeared in my life and took over when i saw him in the anyone special video, kind of like the way you popped into my dms. We’ve literally talked everyday since then. All your messages, your words of encouragement, your comforting words, the random things we talk about (like the tote bag dilemma? Or all the possible collabs we could work on? OR ALL OUR TALKS ON SHUA AND HIS HANDS). I want you to know that I truly treasure each and every single one of our conversations. You’re one of my comfort people. Thank you for popping into my life because I cannot imagine my life without you rn. Yes, I’m not done but this is already very long so expect a lot of love coming your way in your dms. ILYSM SERIOUSLY. PLEASE LET’S MAKE THE SHU X GIGI MEETUP HAPPEN ONE DAY BUT NOT IN THE MIDDLE IT’S TOO DANGEROUS.

@haecien Cien as junhui. My timezone buddy. Like Junhui, you’re crazy and incredibly fun to be around. I’m not going to lie, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you spiral into loving new things and new groups. Sure, it’s entertaining, and I found it really endearing. I absolutely adore how you fall for other groups so quickly and how you’re so open about falling for them. You’re not afraid to go all out and show your affections towards them. You love with all your heart and that’s such a great quality to have. Your fics are super adorable and you were literally a trend setter because so many people followed your prompt generator idea. Junhui has the ability to be adored by everyone and you have that same effect on people.

@weird-bookworm Sky as soonyoung. Extremely easily excitable babies who always bully mingyu (see Zanna’s part). You get so happy and excited over all the little things. Your tags when you reblog posts gives me life because they’re always so funny and sweet. Not to mention, you have this bright energy around you that draws people to you. You’re so easy to love and interact with. Seriously, you’ve made such a big impact on everyone’s lives here on tumblr whether you know it or not. You might be the glue that is holding the mess that is tumblr together rn. Yea, you also give off major squishy vibes like Soonyoung, it makes me want to protect you more. With consent, i would love to mush your cheeks together and give you so many hugs. Love you Sky.

@woozvc-main Nora as soonyoung as well. In the short span of time that we've interacted, you really remind me of soonyoung and sky haha. You're easily excitable, you're funny, you're honest, you're great at writing your fics (like how soonyoung is great at dancing). You're so real when writing your little thoughts out on tumblr. You're so smart too? Like you're doing physics? And you randomly do math when you're bored? It's like when soonyoung randomly does little dances when he's bored or excited. Plus, you love pandas like soonyoung loves tigers! Okay, maybe not as extreme as that, but you get the point. We're both panda lovers. Why did we take so long to talk, I have no idea. But I love that we are talking now and here's to talking more in the coming year!!

@babyleostuff Natalia as Jihoon. You both write masterpieces. I think I’ve read through your masterlist a couple of times at this point. The way you manage to convey everyone’s personalities and emotions perfectly is amazing. More seriously though, you were one of the first people I approached on tumblr. Thank you for giving me advice before on how to start writing because it really helped a lot. Your advice was one of the reasons why I even started in the first place. You were also my first official moot on tumblr. I sincerely hope that life will treat you kindly, that you’re doing better, and that the next year will go smoothly for you.

@addicsvt Ari as dokyeom. Literal balls of sunshine?? Idk when I talk to you I can just imagine you smiling in the same adorable way that dokyeom does, with his eyes curled up into crescent moons. I hope you never stop writing because your fics are lovely. I really like the way you write! It’s so fluffy, and it makes me feel all warm and cozy. Your mood boards are also amazing!!! You’re seriously such a sweet angel. I can’t thank you enough for loving my writing, you have no idea how much that means to me. Love you and let’s talk more!

@fairyhaos Yena as dokyeom. Yena = a huge reason as to why I started writing in the first place. Yena = one of the first people I ever messaged on tumblr. Yena = ray of sunshine. Yena = one of the best fic authors on tumblr. You just remind me of Dokyeom so much maybe because you're both so in love with Joshua because you're both the happy angels of the group who find so much joy in simple things like Joshua, being around your friends, doing what you love, watching the pretty scenery around you, and you're so musically inclined? You also have this maturity about you that Dokyeom has? Like you know when to be serious and when to have fun which is such a great quality to have. Keep being you!! You'll do great in your upcoming exams!! Thank you for being such a kind person because the world needs more people like that. The only thing, you call Joshua a Shuamoroll. And now I call cinnamoroll that too...

@idubiluv Arya as minghao. Artist duo. I know we haven’t actually talked much but I do know that you love photography and art. I also don’t exactly know why, but I associate you with having this very calming, chill energy that is similar to minghao’s. Perhaps it’s the comfort that your fics give me when I read them? Maybe it’s because you’re so sweet, attentive, and supportive of everyone? Whatever it is, thank you for being my moot and I hope we can talk more in the future!

@slytherinshua Zanna as mingyu. HMMM WHERE DO I BEGIN FOR YOU ZANNA. You’re both always bullied affectionately. You’re both social butterflies. You’re literally everywhere on tumblr in this fandom and that fandom. Idk how you do it because you stan so many groups, write for so many groups, manage both caratsland and the kdrama label, etc. It’s definitely a talent. You’re also one of the sweetest people ever. Like you’re so happy to talk to anyone about anything and everything under the sun. It’s really cute, so please never stop. ONE THING THOUGH. Like mingyu, i feel like you’re always up late… i know timezones are a thing but PLEASE GO SLEEP EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE???? Seriously, i cannot count how many times i've seen "please sleep" on your posts and in the group chats... 🤣

@wheeboo Rania as seungkwan. My fellow criminal minds enthusiast, angst, and purple colour lover. I’ve never actually known anyone else who loves criminal minds so this is a really big deal for me. ANYWAY. I’m not just associating you with seungkwan because he’s your bias, though that is one reason. Seungkwan has this warm, inviting, witty, very accepting personality that is similar to yours. Idk if this makes sense but you write the way Seungkwan hosts. You’re fics are very cozy (even the angsty ones). You develop the stories so well. You put in splashes of humour or fluff, all while still keeping the readers in suspense until the moment is just right for everything to unravel. You’re also always so open when replying asks and responding to feedback on your posts. Plus you want to be a therapist one day? You’re seriously the best and the sweetest. You’ll do great. I’m extremely sure of it. Let's write more angst too!!

@askdacast Askdacast as vernon. LISTEN. YES I'M TAGGING YOU IN A SEVENTEEN POST, NO WE AREN’T MOOTS ON TUMBLR BUT WE ARE IRL SO HEAR ME OUT. Vernon is that one quirky member who does the weirdest things and embraces his quirkiness to the fullest extent. He just does what he wants, when he wants. At the same time, he's such a lovable guy who is adored by everyone around him. That's you. I've always admired your ability to just embrace being yourself even if you do face your own demons. You deserve everything that you've achieved and I'm so proud of you. I'll send you all the other sappy stuff privately... and let's go out to you know where. i mean we just discussed it yesterday? ALSO I HAVE TO PASS YOU YOUR PRESENT HHEEHEHE. BUT JUST KNOW THIS IS MY PUBLIC DECLARATION OF LOVE FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR BEING MY IRL FRIEND FOR WHAT 6 YEARS NOW? ❤️

@mangocustard16 Mango as Dino. Honestly, I just got to know you last month but you’ve been such a joy to be around. You’re constantly putting out 11/10 content and reblogging stuff. Your incorrect quotes are hilarious. Your fics are so fluffy I want to melt in them. Your reblogs, especially the reblog chains you have with other people are so funny. You have a great sense of humour and you give this vibe that you’re just so happy to be here. I’m happy to have gotten to know you!

@eightlightstar Vittoria as Dino. We've only really talked once since we just became moots. I guess in that interaction I get Dino vibes from you? You're my fellow grad student who seems wise beyond her years just like Dino. You want to be a professor and get your PhD too! Dino is ambitious and that's how I would see you. You're going to do great! Let's talk more soon!

@glosskirt Gloss. If I were to liken you to a svt member, I would say you're a little like jun because you remind me of cien and you're kind of unhinged as well from what I've seen. But you're more of a bts stan. So, I'm doing this specially for you. My bts stan days were years ago, but I'm going to say that you remind me of Jhope. Happy, hopeful, sunshines of the group who are really funny. You care so much for others and you're so happy to interact with other people. Idk I saw your post about moving out of your lonely kpop phase and that made me feel something? Because I felt that way too after starting tumblr. I'm so glad we found each other through tumblr, and I hope we can interact more next year!

As for the rest of my moots, I'm sorry that we haven't interacted much. Sorry if you didn't want to be tagged. Here's just my little ramble for all of you because I'm still so thankful that we're moots and I would love to interact with you all more next year!

@amxlia-stars Amelia as Mingyu. You give me puppy like vibes and you just genuinely seem to be enjoying yourself here. Thank you for always liking my posts, it means a lot to me!

@mirxzii Roxie as Soonyoung. Idk the post of you horanghaeing in a museum really stuck with me haha. You're really nice and the aesthetic of your account is so sweet! Sorry that I haven't reached out much. Thank you for reblogging my work, I really appreciate it!

@icyminghao Noelle as Jihoon. Your posts are so so good? The way you write is so amazing. Actually I think your posts were some of the first I ever saw when I first started reading fics on tblr. It made me all giggly and happy. Major serotonin boost when I read them.

@aaniag Aania as Vernon. We haven't interacted much, but you remind me of Vernon because you can get very excitable and you're also really random? Like sometimes I see a huge wall of pictures on Sky's account from you. You're really nice and sociable too!

@staranghae Cherry as Seungkwan. I see you popping up everywhere to send those cute chain messages to everyone. You seem really sociable and fun! We just became moots so i'm sorry idk what else to say, but thanks for being here!

@seokminded Artai, @hrts4hanniehae Sadako, and @ryuwonieebae Ryuwon. I'm sorry to group you all together since I really don't know much about all of you at all. Hmm, I guess you all remind me of Vernon and Dino in some ways. I love the aesthetics of all your accounts. I mean that's the point of tumblr because we can express ourselves here. But your accounts and the things you all write just seem like you? Thanks for being my moots! Let's interact more in the future!

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