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msbigredmachine · 11 months ago

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Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

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Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #the bloodline #smackdown #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #wrestlemania

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celestiababie · 2 years ago

Text

A Handful - K.MG

Pairings: Stay at home husband! Mingyu x fem! reader

Genre: fluff, highly suggestive (18+), domestic!au, established relationship!

Warnings: PREGNANT READER, chest fondling (m and f receiving), cursing, Mingyu is a little shit, reader is hormonal and easily annoyed, Mingyu possibly has a breeding kink, reader is shorter than Mingyu, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Word Count: 915 (short but I was on hiatus and this is the first thing I'm writing in MONTHS)

Summary: Your husband is no stranger to being touchy and clingy, but he's been especially annoying ever since you gave him the big news.

A/N: I'M MOTHERFUCKING BACK!!! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this. For reference, this acts as a small prequel to a small series I have about stay at home husband/dad! Mingyu. You don't have to read the other parts, but I will leave a link to the series masterlist just in case people want to read it. Please leave feedback, I'd really appreciate it, especially since I'm a bit nervous about posting again haha.

Series Masterlist

A pair of warm hands suddenly wrap around your growing stomach, engulfing you as a gigantic presence looms over you.

The shriek that escapes your lips is embarrassing, but not nearly embarrassing as your hands lose their grasp on the plate you were scrubbing, dropping it in the sink and causing the fine porcelain to shatter.

"Shit—are you hurt, baby?" Your husband's voice echoes through the not yet completed kitchen, irking you more than it normally would.

Spinning in his hold, you wipe your damp hands on the sides of your sweatpants before shooting him one of the deadliest (and sexiest) glares he's ever witnessed.

"No, I'm not hurt, but I keep telling you not to sneak up behind me when I'm doing the dishes! I don't even understand how your tall ass is that fucking quiet," you start, your brows furrowed as you hold your glare.

Mingyu opens his mouth to reply but can't get a single word out before you shush him with a single finger to the lips.

"I'm not finished. And this is the fifth. No, the sixth time a plate has broken since we've moved here."

"That's not that bad, Y/n," Mingyu defends with a pout accompanying his words.

You cock a brow at the tall man, scoffing at his pathetic defense, your tongue pressed into the side of your cheek.

Six plates is a lot for any man, but it becomes comical when it's only been a month and a half since moving into the new house with your klutz of a husband.

"You've also spilled drinks. Many times. Dropped multiple glasses. And don't think that I'm stupid and don't know you dropped the bottle of wine Minghao gifted us. I was looking forward to drinking that. That's pretty bad, admit it, Gyu," you list off, enjoying how a deep rosiness reaches the tips of his ears, almost as deep as the wine you'd never be able to appreciate.

Mingyu slowly turned your frame back around to face the sink once again. His hands roamed across your stomach, which was getting bigger and bigger with every day that passed.

Like always, Mingyu felt his heart racing in his chest as he caressed your stomach, his body flooding with that overwhelming emotion he could only describe as true unconditional happiness and love for both of his girls.

Okay, maybe he didn't know the sex of the baby yet, but his gut was telling him he was gonna be a father of a little baby girl, and he was sticking to it for now. His intuition rarely failed him, and if he hadn't stuck to his guns, he would have never got together with you.

"You wouldn't be able to drink it right now anyway, baby. Let's focus on things I'm good at, hm? The kitchen is almost done, and the living room looks beautiful, if I do say so myself. I'm pretty good at painting, so I'll have the nursing done in no time. I just cooked my beautiful wife a wonderful meal that she was moaning about the entire time," he shamelessly declares, the smugness apparent in his voice.

You bite back a sassy remark when you feel his hands traverse up your abdomen, gently grabbing your swollen breasts in his large hands to massage them carefully. Your head relaxes against him as you let out a deep sigh, your husband's skillful hands rubbing away the ache and soreness.

Mingyu studied your blissful expression for what felt like the millionth time. He'd never grow tired of how your eyes would flutter shut, eyelashes resting on the tops of your cheeks as your pretty lips parted, taking deep breaths as you savored the feeling of his hands on your body.

He tilts his head to bring his lips closer to your ear, "And I'm really good at making mommy feel good, isn't that right, baby?"

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids as you let out a breathy laugh, amused but not surprised by your husband's antics.

"You're so annoying, Mingyu," you moan, practically purring your husband's name, which only inflates his ego more.

"How convenient for me; you've always looked so damn sexy when annoyed."

A light bulb lights up in your head as you watch your husband's back muscles as he walks over to the kitchen sink to set aside the dishes.

Let's see how he likes it.

A Cheshire-like smirk paints your lips as you slowly come up behind your half-naked husband to wrap your arms around his waist, your stomach pressing against his tanned skin.

But much to your disappointment, Mingyu didn't give you the reaction you hoped for.

"Gonna keep me company while I wash up?"

You frown and deeply exhale as you crawl your hands further up his torso. Your nails drag along his skin, which generates a shiver throughout his entire being, goosebumps forming on his skin.

"No, I'm trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, but you're enjoying this too much," you reply, your fingers inching further with every word.

A low moan rumbles out of Mingyu as your hands feel up his sore chest from working out right before waking you for breakfast.

Shit, his chest got even bigger. Damn, that home gym he insisted on.

You watch as Mingyu writhes against you as your fingers trail over his nipples, a shaky breath forced out of his body as he grabs the edge of the sink.

He's so annoying.

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blublublujk · 1 year ago

Text

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier.

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall.

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless.

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do.

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss.

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you?

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life.

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes.

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment.

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call.

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it.

He won't.

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over?

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his.

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick?

A white lie never hurt anyone.

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings.

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy.

The flirting turned to one thing, then another.

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth.

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.”

Yoongi just laughed.

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?”

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much.

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want.

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch.

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t.

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door.

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined.

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries?

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again.

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?”

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides.

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area.

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?”

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside.

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.”

He did research? Double fuck!

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time.

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief.

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought?

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask.

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question.

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too.

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well.

Why not you? It’s always going to be you.

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break.

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you.

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand.

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.”

Kiss.

“For?”

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss.

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.”

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all.

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch.

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you.

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all.

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.”

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different.

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks.

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble.

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty.

“I-I don’t know.”

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel.

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop.

Not when you start whining against his lips.

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch.

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?”

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses.

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.”

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation.

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too.

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more.

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?”

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you.

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too.

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi.

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot.

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds.

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower.

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles.

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey.

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.”

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you.

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t.

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser.

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by.

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls.

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him.

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity.

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.”

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him.

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.”

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.”

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.”

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions.

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him.

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out.

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created.

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man.

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can.

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly.

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night.

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him.

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this.

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing.

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self.

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?”

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.”

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace.

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep.

“You can.”

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream.

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged.

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup.

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.”

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed.

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm.

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back.

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal.

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all.

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love.

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts smut

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muxshwriting · 5 months ago

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my good luck charm

Carlos Sainz x Indian!reader

summary: everyone is looking at Carlos at his home gp to win. but Carlos isn't bothered by the pressure, he's too busy looking at you || word count: 1092 || masterlist

REQUESTED by @malvikareader : Carlos and Indian reader meet at Spanish gp and he is mesmerised by her

It was utter chaos. Everyone was looking at Carlos as the homeboy hero of the Spanish GP, saddled with the expectation to win his home race. He had been dragged from interview to interview by his PR manager but all he wanted to do was have a moment to himself to breathe and relax before the race. Yes, he was driving a Ferrari, one of the top performing teams of the season and Carlos had been one of the few drivers to win a race so far.

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life in the F1 paddock. You'd been invited by your agency as a PR stunt for your new modelling campaigns. You were infamous, one of the most successful models of your time. Not only were you stunning, you cared about real issues. You were trying to work towards a brighter future, focusing on issues such as climate change and poverty across the world.

Carlos was stuck at yet another interview where they asked him the same questions as the others. He replied with the same generic answer he'd given everyone else, casting his mind away from the interview and subtly glancing around the rest of the paddock to see what was going on. It just so happened to be when you were walking past the interview pen, locking eyes with Carlos.

Whatever answer he was giving began to come out stuttered as Carlos stumbled over his words, utterly captivated by you. The world seemed to slow as you waved at some of the fans scattered next to the track, laughing at something one had said. God, why did you have to laugh like that? Carlos could barely breathe. He wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that, no one else, just him.

"Carlos? Hello?" The interviewer was trying to get his attention and Carlos begrudgingly looked away from you.

"Sorry." He quickly apologised. "Can you repeat the question?"

★--~-~--★

Ever since catching your eye, Carlos had been searching for you in the paddock. No one seemed to know who he was referring to (given the sheer number of celebrities on the grid) but it didn't dissuade Carlos. The race was a couple hours away as Carlos weaved his way through the garage before being stopped by his race engineer.

"Carlos! I think media is looking for you to meet some ambassadors for sponsors and stuff." He explained, pointing to the office area.

"This can't wait until after the race?" He was distracted enough already, he didn't need to add simpering up to sponsors to his list.

His engineer simply shrugged. "Sorry man."

Carlos sighed, takes a deep breath and then makes his way to the media manager's office. To his surprise and shock (and delight) he sees you quietly talking to someone else. Also to his delight, he sees you wearing a ferrari jacket you didn't have earlier, a jacket that had his driver number plastered on the back.

"Hello." Carlos internally kicks himself for just saying 'hello' to the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

You're first to introduce yourself. "Hi! I'm Y/N, an ambassador for Ray Ban. It's really nice to meet you considering I watch you race almost every week-" You seemed to cut yourself off from rambling on after meeting him.

Carlos only grows more lovestruck. "No problem. You'll be watching today?" He assumed you were but wants any excuse to keep talking to you.

"Yeah." You offer him a small smile. "You'll do great, I'm sure."

"You think?"

Your smile only grows. "Oh yeah. I'll be cheering you on."

"I'll make sure to win for you." He sends you a wink that has your cheeks warming at an alarming rate.

He's pulled into conversation with a few other ambassadors but continues to catch your eye from across the room. Eventually, he's pulled back down to the garage floor to get ready for the race and has to say goodbye to you.

You go for a hug that Carlos greatly welcomes. "Good luck." You whisper to him. "You'll do great."

You end up in the back of the Ferrari hospitality, anxiously watching the race. Carlos started on the second row, working his way through the front runners and navigating a risky pit stop strategy by his team. He had taken the lead of the race six laps from the end, holding off Verstappen until the end of the race and finishing in first place.

The garage went nuts, mechanics jumping up and down with glee. You could hear the crowds cheering for their driver's win at his home circuit and joined in with the celebrations. You find yourself swept with the crowd as they rush down to the podium area to watch the cars arriving. Carlos jumped straight out of the car and into the arms of his team. As the adrenaline began to wear off, he caught sight of you standing by the side of his engineers.

Your face held a look of awe as he walked closer. There were a few stray tears (of joy) in your eyes as you hugged his tightly. "I told you you'd do great."

"All for you." He confessed, pulling away and seeing Charles behind him with a smug grin on his face. "I've got to go but- can I see you later?"

"I'll come to your driver's room, yeah?"

Carlos' smile widened. "I'll be waiting for you."

You watched in admiration as Carlos stood in the Spanish sunshine, soaking in his victory. He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting to you, ignoring the cameras that were watching him and watching where his eyeline kept straying to. Both of you were oblivious to the eyes watching you, unable to look away.

You both met just outside Carlos' room, embracing properly. He pulled you into the room, away from prying eyes and you took your chance, diving forward and pressing your lips against his. Carlos froze beneath your touch, making you regret your actions and begin to pull away to give him space.

Carlos did the opposite, he deepened the kiss, reaching up to hold your face in his hands and pull you even closer. The two of you separated, sharing the same breath in the small room.

"Can I come watch you again?" You whisper into the air, suggesting a future.

Carlos met your eyes with a solemn look. "I wouldn't want anything else. Besides," He joked. "You're my good luck charm now, you can't leave me with bad luck."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #muxsh reqs #formula one #f1 #muxsh #muxshwriting

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hadesoftheladies · 7 months ago

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FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 7 / YA & COMING OF AGE)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes/Tropes:

-Girls fighting with their parents

-Crushes and romance (and love triangles)

-Strong friendships

-Exploring sexuality (most of these have scenes of a sexual nature)

-Finding herself (or learning how to grow up)

-A lot of (oftentimes comedic) blunders

-Enemies/rivals to lovers

-Girls getting up to no good (or girls getting up to good but getting derailed)

ONES I HAVEN'T WATCHED:

Darby and The Dead

Girlhood

Blood & Water

Eighth Grade

I Am Not Okay With This

Skate Kitchen

The Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants

Ladybird

We Are Lady Parts

ONES I'D RECOMMEND

Derry Girls (9/10) (GOATED SHOW!)

Bottoms (9/10) (hilarious and insane in the best ways!)

Paper Girls (7/10) (the chaos that happens when adult you meets preteen you)

Everything Now (8/10) (actually deals with eating disorders appropriately, the most humanizing teen show i've ever seen)

Booksmart (8/10)(a calmer version of Bottoms, but still pretty unhinged and witty)

PERSONAL NOTES

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is the more sober version of But I'm A Cheerleader, where two lesbians get sent to conversion therapy camps. I found both entertaining and refreshing, full of nuance and oftentimes clever about the writing. The performances were also quite good.

I remember My First Summer being bittersweet, but I think there was one scene that made me a little antsy (because the girls in this are pretty young). If it was done tastefully is better left interpreted by those who decide to watch it.

Do Revenge is a whole bag of everything. Mean Girls meets Bottoms. Funny, cruel and unhinged (yet also a little sweet). It was overall fun stuff.

Skate Kitchen has a spin-off show by HBO called Betty.

I barely remember the one episode of Blood & Water I watched, but I know there were things I found to raunchy too be tasteful, yet there was also quite a bit that was still pretty solid and sweet. Not sure I can recommend because I don't know enough except it's about sisters.

If you like sweet and simple teen love stories, Rafiki and The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love are right up your alley.

I only watched one season of Never Have I Ever to emotionally support my sister who had started it. I have never felt such visceral second-hand embarrassment in my LIFE.

First Kill is Romeo and Juliet with vampires and monster hunters. I liked the actors/actresses but you can tell that the budget for this show wasn't that big. If you like Warrior Nun, though, you may like First Kill.

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thegildedbee · 8 months ago

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Choice: May 10 Prompt from @calaisreno

Program Note: Here, apparently, is my version of the Fall (I didn't know I had one until writing this 👻 in response to the picture the word "Choice" prompted in my mind's eye.) Because I'm doing these on the hoof, you may find aspects that don't make sense or contradict something I wrote previously and so on. I point this out not to whine,😊 but to invite you, if you're perplexed at anything, to feel free to let me know, in the notes or by message! I'll add any feedback re incongruities to my own growing list of errors, and, if I do something with these prompt puppies someday in actual fic form, I'll be sure to ponder any observations you send my way! ( tgb 🐝) ...........................................

Fleeing from Kitty Riley’s home after Moriarty's escape, Sherlock is more furious than he has ever been at any time in his life, and his breathing is shallow and patchy. He stands in the middle of the street, caught in indecision, as he watches John paging through the cuttings in Jim’s “Richard Brook” file folder, his heart beating erratically, his mouth pressed into a line that twists into a grimace, despair evident in every centimeter of his body.

John registers the sudden quiet, and looks up distractedly, his forehead creasing in concern when he spies Sherlock suspended between one side of the street and the other, immobile.

“Sherlock? What? What is it?”

Sherlock’s brain has been stoppered along with the rest of his body, through the force of the emotional tsunami racing through his nervous system. He closes his eyes briefly, registering the storm inside: fury, despair, futility, chaos, blackness, and a deep unhappiness that any semblance of okay has disappeared, blown far out of sight and beyond his reach. His mind stutters on the last one, and he suddenly knows where he should be.

“There’s something I need to do,” he says grimly, looking at John as if peering at him from a vast distance, which he is. He feels his thought processes beginning to slowly start making connections again.

“What is it? Can I help?” John says, confused, tentative.

“No. The rest I have to figure out on my own.” Sherlock turns away from John and breaks into a jog on his way to Bart’s, intent on catching Molly before she leaves the building, his feet pounding in a dismal cacophony as he makes his way. The mounting tension pressing against his skin from deep inside his body levels off when he catches sight of her in the hallway, and he skids to a stop and flags her down.

“Molly. Earlier – when you said I looked sad, and asked me if I was okay. You were right. I am sad, and I’m not okay. Time is running out. I have very little room to maneuver, and none at all if I can’t find an ally I can trust. You said you didn’t count, and that’s not true. You do count. I’ve always trusted you. That’s why I’m here now. ”

He looks at her intently, saying urgently, “I need your help. Moriarty has injected a lethal poison into the world that surrounds me, and its effects are accelerating, and they’ll soon take on a life of their own, if they haven't already.” He stops, fists balled up, his fingernails sending sharp stabs of pain through his system.

Molly returns his gaze, also intent, scanning his face, her forehead furrowed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I think I’m going to die.”

“Explain.”

“I will. But first – it’s important for you to know that you can tell me no, for what I'm about to ask” he says softly, slowly, carefully. “If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?”

Molly looks back at him, steady on. “Sherlock. You are many things, some good, some not so good, some peculiar, some hard to fathom, some astonishing. Inside these walls, I have spent thousands of hours reconstructing lives with you, and beside you. I know who you are when you are here and I know it to be who you are when you walk back out these doors.”

She sits down on a stool, and says gently, “Tell me what you need. I’ll do my best to help you.” She watches as Sherlock gives her an achingly helpless nod, an expression that she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before on his face. “It’s urgent, yes? Let’s get started then. What do you need?”

“You. I need you. Your medical expertise. Your access to Bart’s. Your ability to work with my streetside networks. Your solidity. Your counsel.”

As he speaks, Molly sees him beginning to regain his footing, and says, encouragingly, “Go on.”

“Moriarty is nearly done setting up his fun house mirrors, reflecting a false image of me to the world, destroying my reputation. I think he means for this all to end by making it seem as if I’ve committed suicide, when it will actually be by his hand in one way or another. It’s inevitable.

“I have a very few hours to try and tilt the odds in my favor. I need to meet him at a time and place of my choosing – in the morning, here at Bart’s, on the rooftop. No cctv; no outside intrusions; no other people at hand. Just the two of us, finishing the game he’s been playing, moving the last two pieces on the board: him, and me.

“But the roof, Sherlock. That sounds incredibly dangerous. What if he forces you off the edge?”

Sherlock continues, his tone grim and determined. “It may come to that, although I will do my best to turn the tables on him. I won’t know until I meet with him what options are viable. I hope to capture him; my best chance of repairing the damages he's made by his slashing through my existence is to take him alive. But it may not be possible. The roof we’re standing on – he may go over the side; I may go over the side; we both may go over the side. I am going to try and prepare for these eventualities, but I have very few resources I’ll be able to have at hand. I’m afraid that, in the end, it will come down to the unanticipated, and to whatever luck the universe will allow.”

“If you fall – how are you going to manage that?” Molly probes, worried.

“Before I answer you, first -- when this is happening, I’m going to need you to be in contact with Wiggins. Hold on, let me make sure he’s gettable.” Sherlock steps aside to send a text and then sets down his mobile -- and then immediately picks it up again, glancing up at Molly. “One more – stay with me,” and his fingers set to work sending a message to another number. He regroups, then at the feel of his mobile vibrating, holds up a finger. “Okay, Wiggins is standing by for instructions after we’re done."

Sherlock takes in a deep breath and pauses, and then takes in one more. “I’ll ask him to have members of his crew gather signs that can be placed to block off the street, and arrange those people so that they can reinforce the restricted access. There will be a crucial period when there should be nobody on the street who is not one of our confederates. He’ll text you when that is, and I’ll need for you to keep a lookout and provide help from inside the building, in heading off any of Bart’s personnel who may be at ground level for some reason, and who look inclined to leave the premises.

“That’s one thing. The next is if I’m injured. I’ll need for you to assess the situation and, only if it’s absolutely necessary, get some of them to help you route me to the emergency room. But only if it’s absolutely necessary. You know that my definition of absolutely necessary will be much further out on the scale than anyone else’s. Anything short of that, I’m asking you to triage me yourself as best as possible until Mycroft appears.

“Mycroft is helping, then?”

“No, not yet. I can’t be sure he’s not compromised. After whatever events transpire on the roof, I’ll know which it is, but I don’t have enough evidence yet. If I’m dead, it won't matter which it is. If I’m conscious, I can let him stay, or send him away and zigzag myself away somehow, whichever makes sense.”

Molly waits quietly, absorbing all the details she's being entrusted with.

“There are two items I need, and I’ve told Wiggins where to find the first – one of the old-fashioned nets that firefighters used before modernizing their equipment, in the case of suicidal jumpers or people up several stories high, caught in a burning building. They’re circular, but they’re stored folded in half. There’ll be a large laundry truck at the site, and the net will be stored hanging on the outside passenger side panel. Wiggins’ people will grab it, open it, and hold it – and we’ll hope for the best.

Molly's eyes dart back and forth, turning over the scenario. “But Sherlock, that’s incredibly risky. If the net is that old – whatever material it’s made out of could have degraded over the years, as well as depending on how it's been stored. It may not hold, and that’s if you actually land on it.”

“Or I can land on it, and it holds, but the momentum causes my body to bounce off of it, and I may get smashed up even so," Sherlock says evenly.

“Or no matter how hard they try to manage it," Molly continues, "one or more of the people holding it could falter, causing it to tilt at an angle, or even drop it before you land, or drop it if and when you hit it, come to that."

"Yes," Sherlock affirms. “Or there could be a wind gust that throws things off. And so on. I know. As clever as we both are, I’m sure we could find more specifics of what can go wrong. But at that point I’ll have no control over the matter, so spending more time on it now won’t help me stay alive."

Sherlock’s mobile vibrates again, and he reaches out quickly to grab it, as if it is something vital to hang onto while floating across a stretch of ocean, lost. After he reads the message, he also sits down, the stool catching him as he sways, and slips, holding him up.

Feeling some of his rising panic receding, he says, “There, that’s the second piece. There’s a small company about an hour outside of London, D30, that makes body armor for extreme athletes who ski, use motorcycles, and so on, people who attempt jumps and find themselves falling from a height, and need impact protection. They're doing work for the military now as well. They’re brilliant chemists, and they’ve been working with polymers and created a material that’s soft and pliable, but when hit with force it goes rigid, dispersing the force at the points of contact, and then returns to its original state. I’ve texted one of the engineers to see if they can bring me something to wear, and they should be here within the hour. It should help some."

“That's good," Molly says, although the stern cast of her face is at odds with her words, the reason why revealed with what she says next. "Sherlock, what about John? Why isn’t he involved in this? Or is he, toward some other end?” Molly asks, tense and apprehensive.

“Whether or not Moriarty and I actually physically struggle, I may still need to make the choice to jump, because I may need to buy time up ahead to be safe from Moriarty’s people while I try and neutralize them – especially if I can’t trust Mycroft. I may need to appear to have died."

Sherlook looks her in the eye, and then drops his gaze. “I’ll need two forms of evidence to bluff being dead. One is to have you do the autopsy and sign the death certificate. For the second verification, I'll need a compelling witness at the scene, and that will be John. I will need for him to believe I’m dead, no question, in order to convince others, as everyone will be looking to him over the days ahead, to see if there are any falsities about what's happened, and if he puts a foot wrong, it will all be for naught. He’ll have to be there to confirm my fall and how it killed me.

“There’ll need to be some stagecraft – I’ve stored some blood in the empty cadaver bin at the end of the last row on the bottom, which you’ll need to hand over to Wiggins, and which they'll spill around my head. I’ll place a rubber ball in my armpit that I’ll squeeze against my side, and that will stop my pulse along that arm."

Molly looks dissatisfied with the chain of thoughts Sherlock is sharing, but she remains quiet. "An additional bit of insurance that this will go off as it should," Sherlock continues, noting her disquiet, but shrugging to himself mentally, "there’ll be a bicycle rider who will collide with John to slow him down as he moves toward where I've landed. When he stops to help John up, he’ll place one of his riding gloves over John’s nose and mouth. His gloves will be soaked in a substance that, when John inhales it into his lungs, will immediately hit his bloodstream; he'll be light-headed and disoriented and somewhat clumsy for a short while. After it clears his system, he’ll assume that how he felt will be due to the shock of seeing me fall.”

Having heard all she can without responding, she slides from her stool and stands up, bending her elbows and placing her hands on her hips. “You’ll tell him, won’t you? He’ll be devastated if he doesn’t know the truth, Sherlock.”

Sherlock shrugs, this time physically, his countenance withdrawn, his voice hesitant. “Initially, maybe. But I don’t think that John’s regard for me is based on a solid foundation. I told him once that heroes don’t exist, and that even if they did, I’m not one. But I think he’s invested in my being an infallible genius, and a chief reason he's stayed with me is that he has a front row seat to watch me perform my mental gymnastics. I’ve been observing him over the last hours, taking in the information that has been amassing that I’m a fraud, and I think it’s starting to have an effect. Even if he doesn’t completely believe everything they’ll say about me, if he believes even some of it, that will be the end of us. And if he does manage to set all of that aside -- I will have irreparably disappointed him by not being able to anticipate Moriarty's game and to beat him at it . . . and, in fact, to have done as badly at handling Moriarty as anyone without a brain would."

“Sherlock, I don’t think that’s true about John," Molly says insistently.

"You may be right, Molly. But beyond me, beyond myself, the horrible stories that are being spun are catching John within the web as well. The collateral injustices he will have to bear is thatof being an object of curiosity, of pity, of scorn -- at the very least -- and, much worse, he will come under suspicion himself of having been duplicitous." Sherlock sinks his head down into his hand, his expression wrecked and weary. "I don't want to add fuel to that fire, and divorcing him from myself and my work is the only thing I have of value to give him, in a poor imitation of compensatory and punitive damages for loss of employment, emotional distress, and product liability," he says forlornly, his tone edging into bitterness.

"Sherlock, even so, you need to give John a chance to let you know how he’s responding to all of this. Don't assume you know his mind."

Sherlock's eyes dart back and forth, lighting anywhere but in her direct line of sight. "I will, Molly. I’ll see him one more time, here in the lab before I go to meet Moriarty. I’ll be able to tell what he's decided about me then, after he’s had time to take in the latest theatrics and make a judgment. I'm sure he'll let me know what he thinks of me, and how he feels."

........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper rest of the @s in the tags, which will work for communication purposes, I hope? just say the word if you want to be untagged or tagged xoxoxo

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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emotionalsupportgoblin420 · 2 months ago

Text

Unexpected Pregnancy headcanons.

Headcanons on how these guys would react to finding out their s/o in pregnant, comforting their anxious s/o, and just overall pregnancy headcanons. Enjoy <3

Kelby, Myx, Ichiban, and Logan

Kelby

Is absolutely flooded with emotions.

Happiness, excitement, anxiety, shock, etc.

Let's be honest. He's mostly excited to have a lil version of the two of you running around.

His focus changes when he sees that you're overcome with anxiety.

Immediately, his first instinct is to hold you and tell you everything's gonna be alright.

"Hey, it's okay. I know this wasn't planned, but it's all gonna be okay. We're a team, and we can get through this together."

He's honestly the best at calming you down.

And making you laugh as he lists off all the fun things he plans to do with this kid.

"We can play sports together, I can take them to ballgames, this is gonna be awesome!"

His positive vibes are so helpful throughout the whole thing.

But he's absolutely clueless when it comes to pregnancy and what to do.

He's trying his best tho.

Man is a real team player and always ready to try his best and help out.

He's a good listener too, which is great when you're feeling nervous and need to vent a bit.

He heard somewhere that being active during pregnancy is good, so he definitely encourages you to stay as active as possible.

Loves to buy those baby sports outfits.

He thinks it's the cutest thing ever.

Tries to read those Parenting for Dummies books, but he can't understand them one bit.

Is definitely nervous about being a dad and is worried he won't do a good job at it.

Tries his best to keep a game face on, but sometimes it does show, and you notice.

Doesn't take too much prodding on the subject for him to admit it.

Being able to vent to you and some encouragement really helps him out.

My guy has more rebound than a kickball, so it doesn't take much to put him in a good mood.

Laughs every time the baby kicks.

"Looks like they're just as athletic as their dad."

Will often just lovingly stare at your ever-growing belly whenever you guys cuddle.

He's so excited to meet this little mini version of you both.

Myx

His life flashes before his eyes as soon as he sees that positive test.

A million thoughts are rushing through his head.

He's absolutely shocked but so happy.

He's always wanted to be a dad.

Once he comes to and notices his anxious s/o, he immediately holds them so tight.

"It's alright. I'm right here. This is great! We're gonna be parents! We've always wanted this! And I'm right here with you through it all."

His positivity really helps.

If it were up to him, he would've shouted the good news from the rooftops right then and there.

But you convinced him to leave it a surprise a little longer, just in case something went wrong.

He hated not being able to tell anyone.

As soon as you gave him the go-ahead, he told the whole world you were pregnant.

He's positivity really helped throughout the pregnancy.

He was always there for you.

Morning sickness, cravings, emotional meltdowns, he was always there for you.

He's really handy when it comes to setting up the nursery.

Hasn't a clue how to build a crib, but somehow manages to do it even though he threw away the instructions ages ago.

"Pfft! I don't need instructions. I'll just Myx things up a bit!"

And he adds plenty of his creativity to the space.

Loves to sing songs to your unborn child.

Gets excited every time he feels a kick.

Sing songs to the little baby in you belly.

Whilst he is definitely excited to be a father, there is a part of him that is nerve as hell.

Reads all the books and articles on how to be a dad.

Tries to keep it cool around you, but you can see right through him.

You remind him that you two are a team, and he doesn't have to deal with anything alone.

"Thanks, babe. I actually really needed to hear that."

Has to kiss your every growing belly every time he passes by.

100% wants the gender of the baby to be a surprise.

Buys the goofiest baby clothes ever.

Especially if it has dinosaurs on it saying, "Dinosaurs are so cool!"

I mean, he ain't wrong lol

This man supports you so much, and you know he'll make a great dad.

Ichiban

Live Ichiban reaction to finding out you're pregnant:

Just stands there, jaw on the floor for a straight-up minute.

He's happy ofc but very much in shock.

Until he sees you, how anxious you are about the whole thing.

He immediately snaps out of it and pulls you in for a comforting hug as he strokes your head gently.

"Shhh. It's okay. It's all gonna be okay."

As you calm down, he pulls away just enough so he can give you a kiss.

"See? Told you it'd be okay." He says in a playful tone.

You can't help but laugh.

"And I'm going to be a dad! Can you believe it? I couldn't be happier about this! This is better than when I hit a million subscribers!"

He's such a goofball.

Becomes very informed on pregnancy and what to expect thanks to videos and online resources.

100% accidentally let the big news slip during a live stream.

He's just so excited he couldn't help it lol.

Is so supportive and super cuddly.

He's basically at your beckoned call.

Kisses your baby bump every chance he gets.

Always keeps his followers updated on how things are going (unless it makes you uncomfortable ofc)

Does a gender reveal live stream with you.

Definitely has days where he's a nervous wreck about the idea of being a dad.

And he sucks at hiding it.

Fesses up as soon as you ask him about it.

Poor guy just needs some cuddles, a shoulder to cry on, and words of encouragement.

He cheers up pretty quick.

But he isn't ready to stop cuddling yet lol.

He's such a big softy and will make a grrrreat dad.

Logan

Is absolutely ecstatic about being a dad.

Can't wait to tell his crew!

All those thoughts fade into the background when he sees that you are an anxious wreck.

Similar procedure to Ichiban: Pull you in for a comforting hug and give you words of affirmation.

"Hey, it's okay, babe. It's all gonna be alright. I promise. I'm right here to support you."

Gives you plenty of kisses once you calm down.

He's got all this happiness. What else is he supposed to do with it lol

His excitement is a bit infectious, you have to admit.

This guy is a man with a plan.

Reads all the books and articles on how pregnancy and how to be a dad.

Is probably the least worried about whether or not he'll make a good dad.

And any concerns he has, he's pretty open about them.

Vows to support you as much as he possibly can.

He's got child-safety measures for most everything.

But not in an overbearing way.

Buys the cutest baby clothes.

Loves to carry you around.

Has full-on conversations with the baby in your belly.

His face when he felt the baby kick for the first time was priceless.

He just sat there for a second with the biggest "Holy sh*t" face you'd ever seen.

Once his brain processed what had just happened, he got so excited.

"Did you feel that?! They just kicked! Our baby just kicked! Omg!"

You can't help but laugh.

He's such a sweet guy lol

Still gets a little excited every time he feels a kick.

He's got the makings of an amazing dad.

#blush blush #blush blush game #sad panda studios #blush blush sad panda #blush blush dlc #logan blush blush #blush blush ichiban #blush blush kelby #myx blush blush #blush blush headcanons #blush blush x reader

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stromuprisahat · 6 months ago

Note

The fact that Malyen felt ashamed of the feelings he had for Alina already tells us a lot about these supposed feelings.

In reality, who would want to fall in love and date a stick...

Hey nonny, next time add a quote or at least a chapter please, because I'm not sure which of his star moments you're referring to. I don't think he ever speaks about shame- that's Alina's domain.

What I DO remember is his surprise he misses his "oldest friend", which like... okay, who wouldn't be shocked to care about losing something they took for granted?

Forgive the sarcasm, but I'll never cease to be baffled this is supposed to be peak romance. I miss my own bed, when away from home. You're telling me he didn't thought he might feel the same about a PERSON he spend most of his life with? One he ALLEGEDLY ~cares~ about?!

That whole scene leading to his great declaration lies somewhere between laughable, pathetic and repugnant. I've already done its analysis, but let's try again:

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” “Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together,” he said fiercely. He was very close now, and my heart was suddenly hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 19

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” Looking for assurance Alina DID miss him. Which could be innocent, except his next sentence makes it sound as if she chose to leave of her own free will. To abandon HIM.

“Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. Trying to outdo Alina in how much. It's pretty childish- Malyen is no poet going for hyperbole, even unintentional, it's as if Alina's feelings weren't enough. HE's the one giving more (and deserving greater appreciation).

And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. Yup! Here's the one on how much did he value her company before she became important to others...

I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. Again, another half-innocent sentence, that grows much more negative in context of his previous and following (S&S!!!) behaviour towards Alina. He doesn't seek her out because he enjoys her company, but because he's used to her unwavering presence. It's about what she can do for him.

And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. Yes, that happens, when you lose a constant in your life, but that doesn't mean you love or care about it. It might be about a comfort of routine.

I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you ... now he's listing what she should be grateful for as if she asked for any of it. Knowing Alina at this point, steady glance in her direction would be enough, but that's no grand gesture, is it?! This makes me think how often Alina has to listen to the list of what he gave up for her post-R&R. How often he seeks loud appreciation of his "sacrifices". Happy home indeed.

... I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together, Again, this one started nice... for Malyen to fuck it up with the last sentence. That one isn't reassurance. That's an order. What if Alina only wanted to be friends? The excerpt above follows Malyen's anger over Alina's performance at Winter Fete: That night at the palace when I saw you on that stage with him, you looked so happy. Like you belonged with him. I can’t get that picture out of my head. What if Alina realized Baghra was lying and wanted to regain Aleksander's trust? What if she found someone else? What if she decided she has plenty on her plate as it stands, so she won't start a romantic relationship with anyone? The next book will show us neither of those options are an option, when Malyen's concerned. He'll guilt-trip her into being with him want it or not.

And here comes the cherry on the top- I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now. I don't need to be mean to say too little- too late. Hell, Alina could (should) have! This sounds like he's expecting a pat on his head and a badge of honour for his accomplishments. Admitting he wronged her in the past shouldn't earn him a clean slate, he should first change his ways. Not to mention he'll soon prove "see" and "accept" are a whole different beasts.

Geez, it gets worse with every re-read!

#reply #Grishaverse #Malyen Oretsev #Alina Starkov #S&B Chapter 19 #grishanalyticritical #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Mal #anti Malina #anti Leigh Bardugo

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guardian-angle22 · 1 year ago

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Felt like putting together a little themed fic rec list! Here are some coda/missing moment fics for 3.07 Red vs. Blue. If I've missed any, let me know and I can add them to the list! (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimer: If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked.]

SOFTBALL FOCUSED:

◆ Win or Lose by @heartstringsduet (Words: 8.3K; Rating: E; d/s elements)

What if the softball game ended with nothing but TK receiving his rightful reward for winning? What if Carlos ever so slightly tweaked his plans?

◆ in your corner by @heartstringsduet (Words: 7.1K; Rating: M; d/s elements; part 5 of a series)

Win or lose, Carlos promises to reward TK after the softball game tonight. But all it takes is a single moment to unravel what they’ve built together.

◆ it's hotter than hell where i'm at by @petalwritesx (Words: 1.3K; Rating: M)

“If I would’ve known a softball uniform did this to you,” T.K. says, breathless between kisses, “I would’ve bought one a long time ago.” OR: Before their little award ceremony, Carlos and T.K. have some alone time.

◆ Sex Drive by @welcometololaland (Words: 3.8K; Rating: E)

Carlos has a thing for TK playing softball and TK has a thing for reflective surfaces, apparently. OR A season 3, episode 7 missing scene.

◆ "You love this, don't you?" by @irispurpurea (Words: 403; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 28. Prompt: “You love this, don’t you?” Missing scene from Red vs. Blue

◆ Gold name and number by @goodways (Words: 3.6K; Rating: E)

“I’m just saying Carlos, it was a simple ‘talk shit, get hit scenario’, the law has no place getting involved,” TK spoke with a tone like he was explaining simple first grade math. “First of all, that’s not true and second of all… no, no I think that’s it.” * Carlos has some feelings about TK in his softball outfit.

◆ Take Me Out to the Ball Game by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

He’s seen his boyfriend’s ass in a lot of outfits; his uniform, jeans, slacks, but nothing, nothing tops this. His boyfriend is hot. He’s so fucking hot. Carlos isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything hotter in his entire life. A follow up fic for 3x07 "Red vs. Blue" in which T.K. wears a new kind of uniform and Carlos likes it. A lot.

◆ your hand under my jacket by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

"You know, I’m grateful you came to watch,” TK hums as he steps into their loft through the door, and immediately turns around to give him one of those wide and brilliant grins, and pokes the peak of Carlos’ cap upwards, “even though it looked like you were trying to be as incognito as possible.

END OF EPISODE FOCUSED or BOTH (TW: discussions of grief/death/dying):

◆ Everest to mariana by @paperstorm

A tag for 3x7, 'Red vs Blue', in which Carlos fulfills a teenaged fantasy and TK gets devastating news.

◆ i can't just bring them back, but darling i can hold your hand by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 2K; Rating: T)

It’s been hours, and TK hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t screamed, or cried, or done anything that Carlos has come to expect from someone who just found out a loved one passed away. He’s just curled up in a ball on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, and that’s where he’s been ever since he walked away from the party like a ghost. * a 3.07 coda/3.08 spec fic

◆ underneath by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 4.2K; Rating: T)

Grief is a powerful thing, and it affects everyone differently, creating unique pain and ache for everyone, and it is always a process, and TK has had his grief only for mere hours. It is still new, growing and invading space in him.

◆ not a victory march by @reyesstrand (Words: 2.8K; Rating: T)

Carlos approaches, still under the assumption that everything is fine because it's supposed to be, and TK feels his eyes start to burn when Carlos asks him to tell his mom he says hi. Because that's something he's never going to do again.

◆ Surrounded by Love by @bluenet13 (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

A look at TK in the days, weeks and months following Gwyn’s passing as he processes his grief with the help of his family and friends. A 3x07 Coda

◆ this weight off your shoulders by @marjansmarwani (Words: 1.9K; Rating: T)

When Andrea Reyes receives a call from her son with terrible news, she makes a promise to a woman she only met once but always felt she knew. A 3x07 Coda

◆ may there be abundant peace by @maxbegone (Words: 2.6K; Rating: N/A)

Carlos sighs. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” “Yeah.” “I’m so sorry.” It warrants no further reply, because at this point Carlos is crying along with him, resting his forehead against his temple and securing his hold even tighter. If he didn’t feel so numb, TK would reciprocate somehow. But this day has been simultaneously a blur and the sharpest image, burned red-hot in his brain. He could relive every single moment in perfect accuracy, he swears. __ An introspective episode coda sometime after the events of 3.07 and 3.08.

◆ No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. by @tkstrrand (4 fic series, Total Words: 13.1K; Rating: G)

TK tries to balance moments of joy with grief/guilt following the months after his mother's passing.

◆ sometimes grief is an open wound - it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 663; Rating: M; TW: Self-harm, Suicidal Thoughts)

His doctor puts him back on his antidepressants and he takes them without complaint, even when sometimes they feel like they’re doing more harm than good. The side effects leave him nauseous for a week, his already unpredictable sleep schedule fucked up beyond repair, but TK dutifully swallows them down every morning, because this means that he’s trying, right? It means that… It means something. It has to.

◆ wrap me up, enfold me by @strandnreyes (Words: 2.3K; Rating: G)

“She’s dead.” Those are the last words he has spoken in at least ten minutes. Now as Carlos sits beside TK on the couch, he isn’t sure what to do. His boyfriend is silent and unmoving, almost hauntingly so, and there’s this vacant look in his eyes that makes him look so unlike himself that it jars Carlos.

◆ Before...And After by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 256; Rating: G)

TK takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t remember much about last night, except that he was catatonic after the call, then dissolved an hour later into a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. The only reason he didn’t shake apart was because Carlos had held him.

◆ wrapped in a cloak of misery by @pendragonsandbuckleys (Words: 1.1K; Rating: G)

The phone clattered to the ground only seconds before TK’s knees buckled from underneath him. - a 3.07 coda.

◆ silent answers by @blueink3 (Words: 577; Rating: T)

It’s Paul who notices first because of course he does. “She’s dead.” Who clocks the fact that something has gone horrifyingly, catastrophically wrong. “She’s dead.” “Carlos?” Not ‘hey, man’ or ‘you good?’ Not the casual, easy tone Carlos has come to appreciate ever since that night at the club. It’s diffused more than one high pressure situation, but this - Nothing can fix this. A coda to 3x07.

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic recs #fic recs #fic rec list #ive been meaning to make some themed rec lists for awhile now #i started with this theme simply because I had a good idea for the gif header lmaooo #btw if any author doesn't like to be tagged in things like this for any reason PLEASE let me know #no explanation necessary #I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable

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xoxoemynn · 5 months ago

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I was tagged by @edsbacktattoo, @summerlinenss, @spirker, @piratecaptainscaptainpirates to share the favorite things I've written! I've loved seeing everyone's responses to this and have been adding to my ever-growing MFL. 💕

First we have my "heart story," my magical realism fic The Merry Strays of Lighthouse Sanctuary, which is technically two stories because I wrote the first one in a day for Our Flag Means Party, and then that little idea exploded and I ended up writing another 115K to go along with it. The basic premise is "what if a house was built with so much love it came alive?" Took a lot of inspiration from The House in the Cerulean Sea in terms of vibes, so if you like that, you'll probably enjoy this one. Feels like being wrapped up in a big gay hug. Also recently re-read this one and made some minor edits to prepare it for a book binding and have to say, it holds up. I cried at the end.

Next I'll highlight my beloved Clock Boys, which I feel like was my Peak Writing for OFMD experience. I came up with this idea when I passed a clock repair shop and went "heh, dark and mysterious shop, what a great place for a PWP. Hey, this reminds me of a random clock fact I picked up from one of my favorite shows. Hey, let me do some googling. Wow, clocks are really horny and also have a ton of nautical ties. Cool." I posted the first PWP fully expecting it to be too niche to resonate with most people. It is shameless smut with more clock puns than I can count. But NOPE. People were INTO it. And maybe it's weird to get sappy when people tell me they love my PWP but I do get really sappy when people tell me they love the clock boys just because I never expected anybody else to do so. ANYWAY currently three stories, planning on a fourth for AUgust, probably mostly stand alone if you want. Just have to know Ed's a (w)horologist and Stede is horny for c(l)ock.

Next, I don't write a ton of canon fic just because canon is so perfect to me I don't want to touch it much, but I did really love how read me like a book came out. We have Ed going through great lengths for a Big Romantic Gesture and Stede always willing to "yes, and" him, even when he doesn't have a clue wtf is going on. It's unhinged, it's silly, it's romantic, it's got a lot of banter in line with those cut improv scenes... it makes me happy.

And finally, I'll highlight forever is our today (who waits forever anyway). I, uh, struggle keeping things short, but I managed it with this one and I think it may be one of the loveliest things I've written. Ed is a sea god who falls in love with mortal Stede and they're both punished for it. It's a lot of bittersweet, but also Buttons and the Swede are muses, so. You know. Got some silliness. And a happy ending. Prommy.

I've lost track of who's been tagged on this so apologies if you've already done this, but I'll tag @bizarrelittlemew, @ghostalservice, @petrichorca, @veeagainsttheday, @adhduck, @saltpepperbeard, and @chocolatepot. (And if you have already done it, link me to the post so I can add to my list.) 💕

#emynn.op #ofmd #my fic #ofmd fic rec #tagged I'm it #v much love this idea I love reading writers' most precious children

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boygiwrites · 7 months ago

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Harley D. Dixon 30

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📖Chapter List.

Hours later, the rays of sunlight shrink back behind the barred windows, making way for night.

"Let's do the dishes, kids," Lori says to me and Carl after dinner has ended, swinging her leg over the bench.

As everybody disperses from the tables and starts heading back to their cells, I grab my dirty bowl. "Okay, Lori."

"Yes, Mom."

The soapy water in the wash bucket sloshes around my wrists as I scrub the grease outta the plastic bowl, shaking the droplets from it and throwing it in the clean pile. This ain't how I would'a spent my free time if I had the choice, but it ain't so bad.

Thoughts of Dad cross my mind as I grab another bowl and plunge it beneath the suds, thumbing the gunk out. He's the one that caught dinner for us tonight while he was out on his impromptu walk. A fat possum and an even fatter rabbit, courtesy of Mouse. He would'a had to leave the prison to find them animals, which is not where he said he was gonna go, but we ain't bothering him about it. It's best not to, when it comes to my Dad. It only ever ends up making things worse, and I'd say things is worse enough already. He'll come around.

Standing elbow to elbow with me, Lori stops her light humming as Herschel approaches our makeshift kitchen.

He's about to add his bowl to the pile when Lori flicks some water at him.

"I don't think so, Mister Greene." She warns him, ever the mother hen. "The time for that has come and gone. Kitchen is closed."

Chuckling, the old man placates, "Yes, Ma'am. I can see who runs this operation. Don't worry, I'll wash it."

"I'm only kidding," She relaxes, tryna take the bowl from him, but he just rolls up his sleeves. "We can do it."

"No, no. I insist, darlin'." He smiles. "I'm used to a little elbow grease."

She relents, "If you say so."

"I wasn't kidding," Carl jokes, giggling a little when both Lori and I flick the water at him this time. "What? I wasn't."

"Silly boy," His Momma weakly scolds. "Don't get distracted."

As we work together in silence, Herschel seems to forget that he only had one bowl to clean, or maybe he just really likes washing dishes. I try to keep up, but I can't stop my eyes from drifting to Lori's belly every now and then, as if it's a zit I'm supposed to pretend I don't notice. I guess I'm just worried. I heard some women die when they give birth, either from pushing the baby out or not being able to.

"Hey, Mom?" Carl lilts after a few minutes, pulling me outta my own head. "Can I go with everyone else tomorrow?"

His Momma quirks a brow. "Everyone else?"

"Yeah," He continues like it's nothing, like he's talking about the weather. "To find the cafeteria and the infirmary."

It had to happen at some point. It feels like asking the adults if we can get in on one of their crusades has become a daily ritual for us. What Carl's talking about sounds a lot more exciting than washing dishes, which is what we're supposed to want to help with. You can't really die doing this, unless you're the world's biggest idiot, but they can't baby-proof everything. We need to grow up at some point.

Not wanting to be left out of the action, I add, "I wanna go, too, Lori. Can we?"

"Um," She scoffs as she glances knowingly at Herschel, instantly squashing all my hopes. "I don't think so."

Carl's face scrunches up in annoyance. "Wh—? Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Harley. Carl," Herschel patiently asks, "Just how many times do you plan on setting yourself up for the same answer?"

"Maybe later," I put on my best adult-voice, because he's right. I do know the answer. "Not right now, kids. Blah, blah."

"I understand where you're both coming from," He says, "But when we set a boundary, it's usually for a very good reason."

My Uncle Merle used to make me apologise to him three times whenever I went in his room, and I never saw much reason in that.

Whatever. I ask, "But, when is later?"

"When you're grown," Lori answers.

What? When we're grown? That's forever away!

"Well, what was the point of Dad teaching us to shoot, then?" Carl throws his hands up. "And Daryl teaching us knife skills?"

"Carl, it's—"

"To defend yourselves," My Dad's voice suddenly rumbles off the concrete walls around us, and I swear the room shrinks a little. The light from the electric lamp illuminates his brooding face as he stalks closer, squinting at me and Carl. "Y'all think it's fun?"

"N-No," Carl argues, making sure to look my Dad in the eye. "We just wanna help you guys, Daryl."

"Yeah, Dad," I agree. "He ain't lyin'."

"Yeah? And what kinda help is a thirteen-year-old and a nine-year-old gonna be to us when shit hits the fan, huh?"

"Shit hit the fan at Thanton Memorial," Carl smugs. "Needed her help then, didn't you?"

"If I have to hear about that goddamn hospital one more time—," Dad grumbles to himself, rubbing his forehead as he takes a seat. Dragging his hand down his cheek, he levels us with the same glare, one that almost turns the water cold. "That was different."

Feeling like I'm missing out on some big secret, I ask him, "How?"

They needed my help — Lori and the baby needed my help — and I was eight years old back then and I still did it.

"Well, you was there, wasn't ya?" He jokes flatly. "There weren't no other choice. We were on our last leg."

"S'that really it?"

"Please don't gimme bullshit, girl. You really think I'd'a sent'chu in there if there was another way? Ya think Rick would'a?"

"Listen, honey, I've thanked you countless times," Lori puts her hand on my shoulder. "Rick and Carl? They have, too. That was a very brave thing you did for us, but it doesn't mean that we should be throwing you into every dangerous situation because of it."

I shrug her off. "I'on wanna be thanked. I'on care about that! I'm— I— I can be helpful!"

"No," Dad impatiently explains, gratin' on my last nerve, just like I'm gratin' on his. "Ya can't."

"Daryl," Herschel warns.

He ignores him. "You wanna help? Sure. Done. Help me skin dinner tomorrow, but don't ask me about stuff like this."

"I can help with stuff like this." I know I can. He knows I can. Everybody knows I can. "Carl, too. We'll listen real good."

"Why don't'chu just listen now?"

"'Cause it ain't fair."

What if somebody needs my help again, and I ain't there? What if somebody dies, and I could'a done something to stop it, even if it was just something simple, like spotting a walker before anybody else did, or lending them one of my bullets when they run out?

He chuckles, not amused in the slightest. "It ain't fair yer Daddy don't want'chu to die?"

"What? I ain't gonna di—," I force out a sigh, so harsh; some of the pearly bubbles below me disappear. "I just wanna help."

"Nowadays," Lori says gently, "Those are the same things. Okay?"

I feel like I could disappear with a simple huff of air, too. "No, it ain't. We're all still here."

Not all of us, Nobody says.

I know it's not safe out there. Not many places left are, but I hate having a knife, and a gun, and two hands and a brain, and not being able to do nothin' with any of them. I don't wanna wait for danger to find me until I can fight back. Why can't I land the first punch?

I wanna be out there. I wanna be where it's most important, killing them that wanna kill us. Not just doing dishes.

"Are we really gonna go over this again?" My Dad says tiredly, looking straight at me. "Really, baby?"

I don't get what he means. "What?"

"Think."

He can't be talking about the hospital. Does he mean—? I think he means the farm. Yeah. He's got the same look on his face as he did when he found out I snuck into the shed last year, not caring that Jim might'a hurt me, or tried to kill me. I think I wanted it. It was after Shane and Sophia died, and everything felt pointless, like somehow even the smallest blade of grass was plotting against us.

Is he really asking me this right now? It ain't like that again. I don't wanna die. I just wanna help!

Even if those are the same things nowadays, I'on care.

That's a better reason to die, anyway — Because of them I still got, instead of them I already lost. That's exactly how Morales died, fending off a hoard of walkers from our camp, and how Merle and Shane died, protecting me. Everybody wants to be a hero.

Realizing what he's tryna play at, I throw the wet bowl down. "Are you pullin' my fuckin' leg right now?"

"Language," Lori hisses as it rolls across the floor.

"Fuck you," I snarl. She couldn't stop me even if she tried. "I ain't done nothin' wrong. Goodnight!"

As I jump down from the bench and storm toward the cell hall, Carl gets one last word in with the adults before turning away and running after me. I ignore a concerned glance from Maggie and Glenn, heading straight into our cell and climbing into my bunk.

"This is stupid," I complain to nobody, crossing my arms over my chest. "Treatin' us like we'on know how to fight."

Carl flops down on his mattress. "I know!"

I gotta calm down. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and feel the air fill my lungs, then let it all out again. Some of my anger escapes with it, leaving me to slump against the wall, glaring at my Dad through the wall and hoping he can feel it on his skin.

"Just 'cause I'm nine," I say, the edge to my voice suddenly gone, "Don't mean I'm useless."

I promised Carl this place would work out — I'm holding myself to that, but I can't do it like this.

"Hey. You're not useless," The boy argues, frowning at me like I've just cursed his entire family. "You help me all the time."

Sure. "With what?"

"I don't know... You shared those beans with me this morning?"

It's hard not to roll my eyes. I was thinking more along the lines of — Well, actually, I don't know what I was hoping to hear.

"Thanks," I say, anyway. "You help me, too."

"Good."

"Knock, knock?"

When I glance up at the doorway, I see Herschel approaching us, and just the sight of him calms me down a little.

"Cooled off, yet?" He asks, seeming to find us a little amusing, for whatever reason.

"Kinda," I say.

"You two have always been a pair of hot heads, haven't you?" He smiles. "My, you've got fire in your hearts, that's for sure."

"Kinda," I say again, even though the better answer would be, Absolutely.

I brace myself for Herschel to break out into a pep talk of sorts. You should listen to your father, or something like that. You kids don't know how good you've got it. I ain't sure I wanna hear it right now, but I ain't mean enough to tell him to go away.

"We all have a role," Is all he says instead, like it should mean something to us, and walks away.

But it doesn't, so I pull the covers over myself and stuff my hearing aids under the pillow.

'Goodnight,' Carl signs from down below as I get comfortable.

'Goodnight.'

Closing my eyes, I try and focus on how lucky I am to be sleeping in a bed for the first time in half a year, before I'm drifting off.

"You won't be needing that," Rick says the next morning, taking the helmet from his son's hands.

Pouting, the boy lets him.

"Don't worry, Grimes." My Dad sneaks a glance at me. "They already got that run-down last night."

Sure did, I think. I can't wait for the scolding he's gonna give me once they make it back.

As they continue to get organised, Maggie tightens the straps of her Dad's thick vest, helping him fit into it. He don't look like any SWAT officer I ever imagined, with his thin, white hair pulled back into a ponytail, the softness in his gaze as he watches his eldest daughter. All I have to do is remember the night the herd came down on the farm and he was right there with us in the fray, shotgun cocked.

I know he can handle himself, but I don't think I'm the only one that would rather he be relaxing somewhere.

If he's allowed to go, why ain't me and Carl?

It's best not think about it too hard, otherwise I might just start up another argument right here and now.

Rick tosses the helmet aside into a nearby pile of trash. "Great. Let's go."

Maggie secures the last strap, smiling weakly up at her Dad and patting his chest. "There ya go, Daddy."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

The group wordlessly file out of the cell hall together, Carl stepping up to the gate and closing it behind them.

"Come on," Carol says once they're out of sight, "Let's do something while we wait."

Carl shrugs. "Like what?"

"I think this place could use a clean," She suggests, looking around at all the gross shit on the floor. "Don't you?"

He cringes. "I used to get paid pocket money for stuff like this, you know."

Without waiting for an answer, the woman just titters and walks off in the direction of the maintenance cupboard, grabbing some broomsticks and dust pans out of it and handing them to us, a dreadfully chipper look on her face. "We're far past pocket money, sweetie."

"If bosses don't pay they workers," I tell her, feeling a little smart, "I heard they go to prison."

"I'm already there," She reminds me.

Remembering all the cells and bars around us, I go, "Oh."

"So dramatic, the pair of you." She chirps, full of energy. "Come on. No time like the present."

"What's that mean?" Carl asks as she chooses an area to start sweeping.

"It means, 'Get your little butts over here before I start swinging this thing around'!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Beth and Lori join us after a few minutes, grabbing some more broomsticks and getting to work sweeping the debris.

"Hey, Harley?"

After half the cellblock has been cleaned, I look up from the end of my broomstick. "Yeah?"

Lori points at the bin. "Take this outside, please?"

"Sure thing." I prop the broomstick up against the wall and walk over to her, lifting the plastic bag outta the bin.

Carol glances over her shoulder at me. "Just put it in that dumpster out there."

"I got it."

Tying the handles into a knot, the same way I'd tie my laces, I carry the bag outta the call hall and down the dark corridor, elbowing the door open. Sunlight peels over the metal, blinding me as I step outside and hop down the concrete steps.

As I pass the fence, the walkers on the other side take turns groaning at me like I'm a celebrity.

Blowing a wet raspberry at them, I throw the bag into the dumpster.

It lands with a soft rustle.

As I make my way back to the prison, I try to take comfort in the fact that Rick, my Dad, and everybody else that went into the Sharpsburg hospital managed to clear it out without getting hurt or bitten, but that doesn't mean it's gonna be the same inside the prison.

Pushing past the door and letting it creak shut behind me, my footsteps echo around me as I walk.

Anything could happen in there, and Carl and I are doing Spring cleaning in the cellblock, safe and sound. It ain't fair.

I can't believe you'd bring that up again, I argue to my Dad in my head, because I always seem to do that after the fact, when it don't even count, I don't care what Lori says. It ain't like that anymore. I don't wanna die. You think you know everything?

I'm your father, I imagine he'd tell me, You think that counts for nothin'?

"I'on care if you're the King of England," I mutter to myself as I turn into the cell block. "I just wanna help."

I'm lingering there on the concrete platform without even realizing it, lost in thought, staring at nothing.

SLAM.

I flinch.

The door crashes into the wall.

Maggie's hair whips around as she cries out, "He's losin' too much blood!"

"Open the gate!" Rick shouts.

"Help us!"

Did she just say, Losing blood?

I run up to the railing, grab it, look at the whole thing unfold below. Did I walk into the wrong building? The group flood into the dinner hall without any warning at all, screaming, Help us, The gate, Open the gate, because somebody's hurt. I already know it. There's the sound of metal clattering against the floor — Wheels — Those are the wheels of a cart being pushed through the crowd, and the body laying on top of it — White hair, black vest — that's Herschel. And that's just the thing. He's a limp body, leaking blood onto the floor.

My skin goes ice-cold at the sight, like I've been dunked in a lake, and that's how I know I'm not dreaming.

Another group of people stroll into the cellblock after them — All strangers, dressed in blue jumpsuits.

Who the Hell are they?

"Help us!"

Carl opens the gate for them. I push myself off and go running after them, ignoring the strangers. They don't matter.

Carol drops her broomstick. "Oh, my God!"

"Daddy!" Beth shrieks. "Daddy, no!"

"Is that—?!"

"Is he dead?" I shout. Everyone's pressed tightly around the cart. All I see are elbows and sweating bodies and lots of blood. I can't get in. I want to see Herschel. My voice don't even sound like my own, echoing in the tall ceiling with all the others. "Is he dead?!"

"Baby, get back," My Dad warns, "Get back!"

"Is he dead?!"

"No! Get back!"

"In that cell!"

"Turn! Turn it!" Glenn shouts, making a sharp turn into an empty cell with the cart, narrowly avoiding a crash. "Come on!"

I'm on their heels like flies on shit, no matter what Dad says. I'm not in the habit of listening much lately, anyway. Slipping past the doorway, I push my way to the front, and it's instant, they way I wish I hadn't. Herschel's face is blanched, wet and pale like a under-boiled egg, and his pantleg is empty from the knee down. That's impossible, I think, but it don't change what I'm seeing.

His leg. His leg, it's— It's gone?

"Get him on the bed," Rick fusses, Carol stealing a rag from the bedside and wrapping it around the butchered stump.

"Did you cut it off?" Lori frantically asks.

Cut it off?! Why would she ask that?

"Yeah."

Oh, God. I ain't never heard of anybody gettin' they limbs cut off, except maybe a pig or a deer, but they ain't alive when it happens. That's— That's just wrong. That's all types of wrong. We need our legs. Rick cut it off? Can people live without a leg?

As Beth reaches for Herschel, I panic, "Dad?"

"He got bit," He explains, before he heads outta the cell with his crossbow drawn. I think of the strangers, but only for a second.

"Ready?" Rick braces his hands under Herschel's body. "One, two three! Lift!"

I hug Beth's arm as they haul her Daddy onto the bed, shouting at each other to grab towels, blankets, rags, anything. Her skin is slippery with his blood, red and warm and terrible, but I don't let go and neither does she. Herschel got bit. It had to be somebody.

The blood just keeps pouring and pouring, soaking into the mattress until it can't hold any more.

I watch it pool into a fat bead like an expensive ink, spill, and splatter onto the floor.

Please, no, I think, Herschel can't die. What about the soybeans? We have to grow the soybeans.

"He's gonna die," Beth's moaning. "He's gonna die."

"No, no, no, sweetie," Lori soothes her, hugging the girl's head to her chest like a Momma would. "He's gonna be okay."

Rick asks Carol, "You think you can stabilize him?"

"I need to keep his leg elevated. Get some pillows!"

"He's already bled through the sheets," Maggie shudders.

"We can burn the wound to clot the blood," Glenn thinks aloud, and he's not bluffing, not at all. "I can start a fire."

"Please don't do this," Beth begs.

Carol takes some more rags from Carl, stuffing them on top of all the others. They only stay white for a moment. "No. The shock would kill him. It’s not gonna stop the arteries from bleeding. We need to keep it dressed and let it heal on its own."

"Did you manage to find the infirmary?" Lori asks them. "Whatever's in there, he's gonna need it."

"No." Rick rakes a hand through his greasy hair. "We hardly made it to the cafeteria as it was."

A voice booms from around the corner.

"I go where I damn well please!"

"Who are they?"

"Other survivors. Prisoners," Rick explains, taking a step backward outta the cell. "It's alright. Stay put. Glenn?"

The man looks up from all the blood on the floor, grimy streaks down his face, like tear tracks through dirt.

"Do not leave his side." He insists. "If he dies, you need to be there for that."

You understand what I'm saying?, Are the words that hang in the air.

Glenn's taken aback for a moment, because Rick means that he might have to murder Herschel, but then he nods.

"I got it," He promises, tender.

"I can bring T in here if—"

"I got it."

Slowly, Rick nods, glancing between us all.

The smell of blood only becomes stronger when he leaves. I didn't even know we had this much of it. How's it all fit?

"It's okay," Lori says again. Beth pulls away from me and curls into the woman's side, hugging her waist. "Shh, honey."

I stand there, my hands sticky with nothing to hold onto.

It all happened so fast. It always does.

One minute, I was sweeping the floor and worrying about stupid things like arguments, and the next, Herschel is just a body, losing too much blood. I wish I could do more, but it sounds like we've done all we can for him with what we've got right now. Maybe a better thing to wish for would be for him to get his leg back, or for me to have been able to do something to stop this. Was it possible?

It's selfish to think that they didn't try their best to keep him safe, that somehow, I could do better, but it's worse to think that this happened for no good reason at all beside bad luck. I can fight walkers, but I can't fight bad luck. I don't think anybody can.

When Glenn takes my wrist in his hand, I flinch, meeting his soft gaze. He's blurry. I think I've started to cry.

Gently, he asks me, "Are you okay?"

"N-No." I glance at the old man's face again. It looks like he's sleeping, like it doesn't hurt. "He's— He's not well."

"No," He agrees. "But we're—. I'm gonna take care of him."

"Please don't kill him," I ask him nicely, as if good manners are what's stopping him. "I— I don't think I want you to kill him."

"I know. It's gonna be okay," He pulls me in for a hug, repeating the same thing to Maggie over my head. "It's gonna be okay."

Wrapping my arms around him, I hold on tight and only let one tear slip from my waterline before I squeeze my eyes closed.

The soybeans. All I can think of are the fucking soybeans.

As he pulls away, I wipe my arm across my face.

"Sorry."

Dixons don't cry, my family always said — among other things.

I'on want anybody to think I've given up on Herschel. That's not it at all.

"It's okay to cry," Glenn's reassuring me, but I'm already pushing past Maggie and turning outta the cell.

The commotion coming from the dinner hall is a good distraction. I let it lure me over to the gate as I force myself to suck up the tears, sniffling away the last of my sadness. I grip onto the metal bars and peep around the wall, tryna make sense of what's going on.

"How many of you in there?" A scary-looking man I've never met asks Rick. Shit. He's pointin' a revolver at him.

Our leader doesn't flinch. "Too many for you to handle."

The prisoners stare him down, face to face with Rick's cool demeanour and the bowman behind him, glaring down his sights.

People. Those are people.

We ain't seen anybody else for months, and I imagine they ain't seen any, either.

I don't have to know much about these guys to tell they ain't no friends of ours. The shortest man curls his fingers into fists at his sides, shifting on his feet like an antsy chihuahua ready to pounce. He ain't look like all that much compared to the monster of a man behind him, who's as tall as a fridge, and just as stocky. I bet he got put in here for cracking someone's head open like a coconut just because they looked at him funny. Then there's a lamer-looking pair. A man that looks a bit like the small one, and a blonde with a country-moustache.

The scary man with the curly hair, who I think is their leader, stands at the front of their small group.

"You guys rob a bank or somethin'?" He asks superstitiously, adjusting his grip on the gun. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

Dad and Rick share a cutting glance with each other without even moving their heads, one that says a million words.

A bank?

A hospital?

What's that clown talking about?

We ain't robbed no damn bank.

I remember on the first day of all this, everybody in our hometown flocked to the supermarket as if there was a sale on, and while they was stealing cash outta the registers, Dad and Merle was stealing food. Nobody wants money. Not like they used to.

Rick turns looks back at the prisoners. "How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?"

The scary man shrugs, a twitchy movement. "Goin' on a year."

"A riot broke out," The big man adds. "Never seen anything like it."

"Attica on speed, man," The white one agrees in an accent like mine and Dad's.

"Ever heard about dudes goin' cannibal? Dying, coming back to life? Crazy."

"One guard looked out for us. Locked us up in the cafeteria. Told us to sit tight, and threw me this piece," The leader explains, gesturing with his gun and taking a pause before he admits, sounding almost embarrassed about it, "Said he’d be right back."

"That was two-hundred-ninety-two days ago," His friend says.

The blonde helpfully adds, "Ninety-four, according to my—"

"Shut up!"

Closing his mouth, he pouts sadly at his feet.

"We were thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now."

It begins to add up. This is awkward. These men have no idea what lays beyond the walls of this prison, do they? I can see it on their faces, that they think a phone would still work if they were to pick one up, that half the population of America ain't dead, and that neither are their families, or whoever else they left behind. I almost feel bad for them, like when I'm looking at an animal I'm about to shoot.

They couldn't guess the shit we been through if they tried. Things we seen, they prolly ain't even had nightmares of. In my life before, I never dreamt of no walking corpse with its guts hangin' out, no girl stumbling out from a barn, no lady being eaten alive.

"There is no army," Rick tell them, his voice flat, uncaring. He would know. We all would.

Not sounding so scary anymore, their leader stammers, "What do you mean?"

"There's no government," He continues. Their faces fall and fall and fall with each admission. "No hospitals. No police."

I guess it does sound kinda scary when ya say it out loud.

"It's all gone."

After a beat of silence, the blonde one asks, "Are you for real, Mister?"

"Serious."

"What about my Moms?" The big man despairs, frowning at the floor.

Your Moms is dead, Is what I'd tell him. All the Mommas are. Except for Lori.

"My kids. My old lady. Yo," The man beside him steps forward. If he wasn't wearing a prison uniform, he could be any old Joe at a bus stop or a gas station, asking for the kindness of a stranger. "You got a phone or something, so we can call our families?"

"You just don't get it, do ya?" My Dad rasps.

"No phones," Rick doubles down. "No computers. Far as we can tell, whole world's ended. Every last bit of it. It's gone."

There's something a bit sad about watching it dawn on them.

Dad lowers his crossbow.

These people are having the worst day of their lives, and that's saying a lot, considerin' they was locked in a cafeteria for a year.

"Ain't no way," The leader breathes.

Rick shrugs. "See for yourselves."

They hesitate. I wouldn't wanna see it, either. It's a lot better in here, where the sun is dim but the blood is old.

"Okay," He eventually lowers his weapon, too. "Show us."

As the prisoners are herded into the corridor, I let my hands slip from the gate, wondering what's gonna happen to 'em. They can't stay with us. That's for sure. The last person we let stay with us ended up with his neck broke, swinging from the end of a noose.

Looking away, I head in the direction of the bathrooms so I can wash up before my skin is stained forever.

"If we get him through this," Carol's saying as I stop by Herschel's cell. "We'll—"

"When we get him through this," Lori corrects.

"We'll need crutches."

"Right now, we could use some antibiotics." She grabs another rag. "Pain killers. Some sterile gauze. We need that infirmary."

"If there’s one, we’ll find it," Carol reassures her as she joins her on the floor. "You gotta be worried sick about delivering the baby."

She fixes Carol with a plain look and squares her shoulders, making herself look as strong as she can.

"Look at me," She says, her pretty face covered in sweat and muck. "I look worried?"

A little.

Carol considers her for a moment. "I think you look disgusting."

Soft laughter fills the cell.

"So do you," She says, before focusing her attention back on the old man. "We'll get through this."

The faucet squeaks as I turn it off.

The rust-colored water swirls and dribbles down the sides of the dirty porcelain, snaking into the plug hole. I've had a lotta different people's and animal's blood on me in my short time alive, but it's never felt quite this awful when I've washed it off afterwards.

Flexing my clean fingers a few times, I look up through my lashes, staring into the cracked mirror on the wall.

My face is a color-by-numbers, shattered into a million little pieces all stuck together, glinting under the florescent lights.

Even like this, I can make out the stump of my ear peeking out from under my hair. I always can. It's hard to believe what Carl said last night about me not being useless, when that's exactly how I feel right now. Maybe Dad was right — I'm no hero. Just nine.

Stepping outta the bathroom and into the corridor, I almost jump outta my skin at the sound of a voice.

"There you are."

Whipping around, I feel myself relax when I realize it's just Carl. "Oh. What is it?"

He wastes no time asking me, "You heard them talking before, right?"

"Who?"

"Carol and my Mom," He explains, keeping his voice low. Uh, oh. He's cooking something up. "About the infirmary."

Yeah, I heard. "They said we need crutches and ant- anto- antob—?"

"Antibiotics." He agrees helpfully. "Yeah. I was thinking you and me could go and get them together."

"What?"

"It's okay if you don't wanna come, but you know I'd keep you safe," He says reassuringly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody's there. "The others are all waiting for Rick and your Dad to do it, but they're too busy and we're running out of time."

Wanting to help when the adults were gonna be right there beside us was one thing, but going alone?

It seems the silence has spoken for me, because he feels the need to add, "I know where it is. There's a map."

Part of me wants to push past Carl and tattle to Glenn about all of this. It would be the right thing to do, and I'm sure it's what my Dad would want, but the other part of me, the one that feels small and puny but is actually the biggest part of me, wants to tell Carl to count me in. We would be helping Herschel by bringing back those supplies. Helping everyone. Ain't that everything I been wanting?

"Are you sure you know where it is?" I caution, 'cause I know I'm gonna say yes to him. "Like, exactly where?"

There's a reason we're thinking about doing this in the first place. Those corridors ain't the safest place to wonder around in.

He nods. "We go straight, right, left, left, right, and it'll be on our left."

That means absolutely nothing to me, but I believe him. "You know we're gonna get in big trouble."

"Yeah. But I'd rather get in trouble than sit here and do nothing," He shrugs. "Like I said, I won't be mad if you wanna stay."

He makes a good point. "I'm in."

"Awesome." The boy nods back down the corridor. "We need to go grab some stuff first."

I follow him into the cell hall and wait outside one of the rooms we're using as storage as he ducks through the doorway, stealing an empty bag and a flashlight from underneath the bottom bunk, before he reappears at my side again. "Good to go."

Hauling the bag over his shoulder, he leads me to the exit door and pushes on the metal bar.

Darkness stretches out on the other side.

We glance at each other.

Like Carol said — No time like the present.

With one last look at the back of Glenn's head, I step into the corridor just as he starts to turn around.

The door closes behind us.

I strain to make out his silhouette as he beats the head of the flashlight into his hand. Smack, smack. The floor and the walls suddenly blink into existence, the cone of light barely reaching into the depths of the corridor as it groans at us in warning.

"Stay behind me," He whispers bravely, before walking ahead of me and drawing his gun. "Let's go."

"I think Glenn saw us," I warn him, making sure not to lag behind. "He turned around."

"Don't worry. We'll be quick."

He pounces around the corner, training his gun's sights on something a few feet taller than him.

The empty, THUNK, of his silencer sounds out as I step up to his side.

A walker's legs fold in half, collapsing to the floor.

Letting out a sigh, he lowers his gun as the blood begins to spill out of its head. "That was some good aim, huh?"

"Good job, but keep goin', please," I complain, giving his back a bit of a shove.

"Sorry," He whispers as he steps over the body. "I just haven't practiced in a while."

We round the next corner, scaring off a couple cockroaches and sending them scampering under a metal door. I'm glad Carl remembers which route to take. It's impossible for me to know where I'm really going without the sun to use as a compass. All these dirty walls are starting to look the same to me, and I can't remember whether the turn we just took was a left, or a right, or something else entirely.

"We're not lost, are we?" I ask him as we make another turn, noticing a spray-painted arrow on the wall.

"We're not lost," Carl answers boredly. "It's just up here."

"Okay. You ain't painted these arrows, did you?" I wonder, even though I know that makes no sense.

"What? No—."

Without any warning, I bump into his back.

The corridor is blocked by a bunch of walkers. Oh. Shit. That's too many to take on. They turn their heads to check us out like owls in the dark as they stand there without much purpose, knocking shoulders with each other. The closest one takes a step toward us, with its knee hanging out from a rip in its jumpsuit, as Carl spots a door to our right, pointing at it and hissing something like, In there.

Pushing it open and slipping inside, Carl quickly shuts it behind us before any of the walkers can get in.

"Well, we can't go that way," He sighs as he pulls away, already looking for another way out.

"What happened to your good aim just now?" I tease as they start pawing against the door.

"Shut up." His eyes light up when he spots something. "There!"

He runs up to a set of double doors blocked by a fallen cabinet and grabs onto one of the handles, grunting as he pulls on it.

"Here. Let me help," I offer, pressing my shoulder against the cabinet.

We push and pull until the first door is no longer blocked, and—

"Harley, watch out!"

The door slams into my side. I'm almost knocked off balance as something stumbles through and grabs me by the arm. I shriek, looking up into the back of a walker's throat. Fuck. I try to wrestle free of it, reaching for the hilt of Merle's knife on my thigh.

As soon as I wrap my fingers around it, the walker is suddenly rammed into the door, as if hit by a car.

THUD!

I stumble backwards, dropping the knife to the floor.

Glenn pulls his blade free from the walker's ear.

The body slides down the door, leaving behind a long smear of blood, before collapsing onto the floor.

My heart pounds as I catch my breath.

Holy shit!

When I look up at Glenn, he's already frowning angrily at us. "What the Hell are you guys doing?"

"We—," I ain't quite sure what to say. I knew he saw us. "We were just—"

"It's no big deal," Carl tries to convince him. "I kept us safe. I killed a walker!"

Glenn gestures to the body. "Well, you didn't kill this one, Carl. What would've happened if I wasn't here?"

We don't need to say it. I would've ended up like Herschel.

Sensing that I really messed up this time, that I can't just argue my way outta this or angrily throw something across the room and walk away from it, I say nothing. This is all too similar to the day Carl and I snuck into the woods and came back only to get berated by our parents for doing something so completely stupid, that we might have even gotten ourselves hurt, or bitten, or maybe even killed.

"You know what? It doesn't really matter," Glenn sighs impatiently, shaking his head at us like we're a couple of gross stains on the bottom of his boot, before he picks my knife up off the floor. "You're here to get to the infirmary, right? That's what the bag is for?"

"We're really close," Carl nods as he hands the knife back to me. "It's just around the cor—"

"Yeah, I know where it is," He cuts him off. "Listen, we're here now, okay? We're gonna go there together and then we have to get back to the cell block. I had to leave Maggie in charge of Herschel to come after you guys. You know what that means, right?"

"Well... We didn't think you would," I explain meekly, even though I know he's right. It doesn't really matter.

"You're lucky I did," He retorts, and he's right again.

Whatever scolding we was gonna get for back-chatting last night just got a whole lot worse. God damn it.

"We're wasting time." He holds the door open for us. "Come on. Let's make this quick."

Stepping into the corridor, I mutter, "Sorry, Glenn."

His expression doesn't change. "Save that for your Dad."

Why do bad ideas always seem good at first?

End notes.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

Carl and Harley are just two dumb kids with too much passion. If I was looking after them, I think I'd have to put each of them in one of those backpacks with the leashes on them 😭

And Herschel ☹️

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! See you in the next one! 🤠

@poetoflawed

#the walking dead #fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon twd #rick grimes #angst #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #the ones who live #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x female reader

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