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viennakarma · 14 days ago

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The Lucky One (2)

Part 2 (of 2) of The Lucky One | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read; t.w: brief christian horner scene.

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). I'm sorry it took me forever to come back to it, but there it is, hope I don't disappoint Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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Ending whatever complicated fling was going on with you and Sebastian was the right, rational call, you knew that. But your body, your heart, regretted it every couple of weeks as you laid awake in bed, plagued by memories, need and longing.

You decided to just do your best during that season. You couldn’t fight for the championship anymore, but you still wanted a great season since the following year would be your last in the current contract with Red Bull. A great performance could secure a renewal or even the interest of other teams.

Sebastian and you still saw each other frequently during race weekends, your eyes always finding each other across the crowd. He was consumed with guilt, of having been blinded by his own privileges that he didn’t see the struggle that was being a woman in Formula One. He vowed to never be so far from reality like that ever again.

He wanted to stop you, to talk to you again, to try and fix things, but there was this constant mix of shame and uncertainty about your reaction if he tried reaching out again. Sometimes he would look at you from afar, and he’d see something in your eyes, something that felt like the same longing he had. Some other times, you looked at him like you hated him.

Eventually in the third race to the last in Bahrain, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was this string tugging at his heart, begging to see you and talk everything through. During the Friday afternoon, between Free Practices, he marched around decidedly, looking for you. He walked into the garage and no one seemed to mind his presence as he went straight into your driver’s room. He barged in, not bothering to knock. You were sitting on the couch, drinking Red Bull and going through some papers. You frowned and stood up as you saw him.

“What are you-”

“Stop…” He interrupted with both hands up, “don’t say anything just yet.”

You frowned but didn’t look particularly angry, your frown softening into a stunned silence. Sebastian sighed, breathing slowly, he had a plan and a speech when he was marching there, but now, looking at your face, your pretty eyes, he had lost all sense of reason.

“We’ll talk about everything, rationally, like adults. Okay?” He offered, and you slowly nodded, unsure but also willing to try, “Not now, because the race and everything. But- this monday, okay? After the race, after we get a good night’s sleep. We’ll go to a nice restaurant, and we’ll talk over good food. A real date this time, no hiding anymore,” He said, his words pouring out fast, like he wasn’t truly thinking about what to say, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement, “Monday night?”

“Monday night,” You nodded, no anger in your eyes, just a glimmer of hope.

“Good,” He nodded and just left.

You stood there, speechless, but with a disbelief smile on your face, looking almost silly. Despite the anger you felt the last time you two actually spoke, there was this undeniable magnetic pull between you, and you didn’t seem to be able to be away from him just as he wasn’t able to be away from you.

The whole weekend, you felt that nervous energy, almost bouncing up the walls, you attributed it to the race, but you knew it was more than that. The car had been great the whole week, you qualified P2, your first real possibility of win in a few months, which would be a blast to finish the season winning one of the last races.

You were smiling as you waved to the fans during the driver’s parade, your first hopeful and excited pre-race interview in quite some time. As you put on your gloves and helmet, you couldn’t help but feel some sense of purpose. You would give your very best in that race.

You just didn’t know it would be your last time behind a Formula 1 wheel.

The race was great, it started alright and most of it you kept your P2, even after a failed attempt of undercut, you still managed your P2, but then came the moment, the point of no return in your career, the very moment that changed the trajectory of your life forever.

After turn 15, you had finally managed to catch up to the P1, less than half a second behind him, and despite his car being fast, you could try and overtake him with the DRS. You pushed the fastest you could in the straight, closing and closing the distance, almost succeeding in overtaking, but as the DRS zone ended, you realized you’d have to wait another lap to try again. But then, as you pushed the pedal to brake and slow down into turn 1, the car kept going. So many things happened in the span of mere seconds, but they felt like ages to you.

“I’ve got no brakes,” You said into the radio as you tried braking. Then you tried engine braking and the security system braking. None of it worked.

With quick thinking, you decided to face the turn that way and bear it. You'd probably lose a lot of grip with the rear, but if you hit the curbs it’d help you slow down and just drive to a stop. You kept trying the brake pedals all the way to the turn, when suddenly, the tyres locked up and everything happened really fast.

You weren’t able to turn, the tyres locked and you had no way to slow down the car. All you did was brace as you went full force straight into the barriers, the impact so hard it made your car split in half. You blacked out for a couple of seconds and then came to again, a ringing in your ears as you tried to situate yourself, a mix of excruciating pain and numbness, pulsing hard, almost keeping you in and out of it.

Pain. Numb. Pain. Numb.

You tried to stay awake, hearing your name being called in the distance, the numbness giving each time more space to the excruciating pain but you couldn’t identify where it came from.

“Talk to me! Are you okay?” You were only half aware of the voice in the radio, and you blindly reached for the button with shaky hands.

“H-help,” your voice was shaky, hoarse and so unlike yourself.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t bring yourself to even reply again, even more aware of the pain now, barely keeping your head up and your eyes opened. Teary eyed, a distant, cold part of you knew it was over. It was over forever.

Then you blacked out.

“Sebastian, red flag, red flag,” His engineer called, as if he had not seen all the red flags throughout the circuit.

He drove back to the boxes, hopping off the car as he saw other drivers do the same, he marched into the Ferrari garage, worried.

“Is everyone okay? Who was it?” He asked, as he removed his helmet and balaclava.

The grief faces around him didn’t help, and Sebastian felt a sense of dread as he turned to the closest screen showing the live coverage of the race. The transmission was a helicopter shot of your car into the wall, or a better description would be two piles of wreckage of your car as the marshals rushed towards it. He felt like he could puke, despair spreading through his chest.

“What did she say? What happened?” He asked anyone willing to answer, his eyes glued to the screen. As if on cue, a replay of your crash played out on the screen.

“S-she asked for help. She didn’t reply again after that.” Someone said, somber, and a lump lodged in Sebastian’s throat.

He kept staring at the video, then a replay of your radio also came through, the despair as you realized you had no brakes, the urgency in your engineer’s voice as he asked you to try other means. And the faint “Help” you said after one of the ugliest crashes Sebastian had ever seen. He had never been a religious guy, but at that moment, he prayed. His eyes glued to the screen as the marshals started removing pieces surrounding you and the car, and the ambulance arrived. They started checking you and were about to pull you out of the wreckage.

Then, the cameras were cut off, showing the drivers and everyone in the garages. Sebastian knew that for the transmission to stop showing, it meant the crash was really bad, it meant that however they were pulling you out, it was ugly. Sebastian felt a shiver up his spine as he thought about the possibility they were removing your dead body from there.

With that, he marched out of the Ferrari garage and towards RB, and he found other drivers were already making their way there too, everyone desperate for any news. A few minutes later it was reported that you had been taken by helicopter to the nearest hospital. Sebastian breathed again as they reported you were alive, but unconscious.

The race was interrupted officially a few minutes later, Sebastian and Lewis along with a few other drivers were still waiting by the Red Bull garage for more news on you. Slowly, everyone was sent away when the news came from the hospital that you were hurt, but not in a life threatening situation and you’d stay in the hospital for observation.

That was when Sebastian finally left, a little shaken as he went through his post race duties.

The following morning, after a tossing and turning almost sleepless night, the official representatives confirmed that you were alright but had unfortunately fractured a leg, and would not take part in the remaining two races of the season.

Even after he got news on you, and there was this sense of relief that you’d recover, the knot in his stomach remained, his gut saying that something was off. But he brushed it off, thinking it was just lingering anxiety from the accident.

He wanted to talk to you, see you. He got your number from Lewis and texted you but you never replied and he kept trying. A few days later, Lewis commented with him that you hadn’t replied to his text either. And later they found out you actually had not replied to any of the drivers or anyone from the Formula 1 teams.

After Abu Dhabi, when the season ended, he got a hold of your manager, leaving an office in the Red Bull garage. He stopped her, gently taking a hold of her arm.

“How’s she doing? Do you have any news on her?” He pressed.

“She’s alright, still recovering.”

“Why hasn’t she answered her phone?”

“She’s recovering and took a break from social media and the internet, so she hasn’t been able to communicate well. I’m sure once she’s fully recovered she’ll get back to you.”

“Do you have a home telephone, e-mail or even an address where we can reach her? See her?” He asked, almost desperate.

“I’m sorry. Just give her some time, I’m sure she will come around.”

With that, your manager left quickly, holding a small stack of files with both hands, the “classified” stamp boldly branding it. Sebastian kept trying to contact you, failing miserably each time.

When the Prize Giving ceremony came, he was bouncing with nervous energy, hoping and praying he would get to see you again. If anything, just to know you’re really okay and well. You didn’t show up to the ceremony, but suddenly you were awarded the Personality of the Year award.

Then, your face showed up on the big screen, and Sebastian felt his breath stuck in his throat. It was a simple, regular video of you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was in an up-do. Your face had makeup like you always wore in these kinds of events, pretty eyes and big lashes, and a scarlet lipstick. Your face looked healthy, despite your eyes lacking its usual brightness.

“Hi, everyone!” Came your recorded voice with a smile, “It’s such an honor to receive this award. Thank you to everyone who voted for me and congratulations to all other drivers on the season. I’m well and recovering, and I’m grateful for all the well wishes all of you sent me these past weeks, I truly appreciate them.” Your smile faded almost imperceptibly, but Sebastian noticed as you inhaled softly, like you were resigned to something, “I will take this opportunity to let you know that I’m retiring from Formula 1 from now on. I’m grateful for all the opportunities, all the dreams achieved and the amazing people I got to know and work with. Thank you very much.”

As the video cut off, there was a stunned silence since absolutely no one saw that coming. No one expected you to announce your retirement like this. So suddenly, especially considering you had one more year of contract with your team. And you were also very young, just 28.

The event went on but Sebastian couldn’t move on from your video, from seeing your face and hearing your voice again. He went through the motions for the rest of the night, and at some point, Lewis stopped him to chat about how glad he was that you looked healthy. But Sebastian couldn’t shake off that pit in his stomach.

The following week, once he was done with his postseason duties, he called Lewis and a couple of the drivers you were the closest with. Still, none of them had any news on you, no text, no calls, nothing. He went digging further and found out you lived in Monte Carlo, in the same building as a few other drivers. Desperate for anything he went there personally to look for you. After giving your name and being recognized, the staff member checked on their computer for a moment.

“Unfortunately, she moved out of this building around a week ago.”

“What…?” Sebastian whispered to himself, shocked, “S-she… um, do you know if she moved to another place here in Monaco? Or she moved to another country or something?”

“I don’t have that information, sir,” the woman replied, looking at him with a smile apologetically.

Sebastian nodded and left, helpless.

Time went on, the world spun, and he never heard about you again. The holidays came and went, and a new season started. People still spoke about you, whispers about your retirement and the accident, many conspiracies theories about why you had disappeared. But oddly enough, the FIA and the F1 representatives never spoke much about you.

Not seeing you again was eating him alive, especially whenever he remembered the last time you had talked, the promise of a future that never came. One time, he went to the Red Bull to try and get any information about you. He kept bothering the staff for months, everyone including Christian, who was the one to put a firm stop to his nonsense of bothering the team’s staff about you.

“I need to talk to her, it’s important,” Sebastian pleaded.

“Have you considered that maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered? That she doesn’t want to speak with you or anyone for that matter?” Christian said, “This stops now, Sebastian. Stop bothering my team about this or I’ll have to go to Todt.”

Sebastian deflated, feeling defeated, only nodded, walking away.

He still talked about you on occasion, mentioning a battle in passing, or whenever the only woman to win a Formula 1 championship was mentioned. Sometimes he hoped you were watching, that you could see the longing in his eyes, that you’d feel something and reach out to him. And then later, he felt silly, stupid for wishing so.

Late at night, he stared at the ceiling, trying to commit to memory everything that had ever happened between you. The fights, the shouts but even more the chats, the making love and the silly conversations you two had late at night, your naked bodies covered by a thin blanket as you chatted about anything and everything. He always thought about your hands mindlessly drawing on his skin, you two drifting off to sleep, and then one of you sneaking out in the middle of the night. No goodbyes to make it easier.

And now the lack of goodbyes felt like an open wound for him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five years passed and Sebastian believed he had learned to deal with your absence, with the lack of closure. But it was a lie he kept telling himself, even if every year, he kept trying your phone number, your email, sending texts and notes, until your phone number was discontinued and probably sold again, for a new owner and your email stopped receiving and his letters would not go through. He never changed his own number, expecting you to eventually call.

When he announced his retirement, a small part of him hoped you’d reach out once you got the news. You never did.

After his announcement, he decided to resort to desperate measures and hired a private investigator. And finally, after a couple months since the end of his last season, he got news on you.

Ben, his P.I., got an image of you in a café in a quaint little town, you sitting down, sipping some coffee and reading a book. The image was a little blurry, probably taken from a long distance, but it looked like you.

Now, Sebastian was retired and had free time, and he immediately packed a suitcase and went to the town. He arrived there on a friday morning, and after checking in at a small but comfortable inn, he went straight to the café. Ben had told him the photo was taken in the late morning, so since very early, he went to the café and decided to wait for you. Ordering a coffee and a muffin, he waited.

And waited. And waited.

Hours and hours and a bunch of coffees and muffins later, the staff were looking at him strangely, and one of the ladies looked at him with pity, warning they were about to close.

“Were you waiting for someone, boy?” She asked.

“Yes, uh- a friend,” He sighed, standing up. He said your name, and the woman seemed to recognize the name, “She’s this tall,” He gestured, showing your height, and gave a brief physical description of you, and the woman nodded.

“I know her! Very sweet but also a bit stubborn.”

“I thought I might find her here, but…” He shrugged, giving his best puppy look to the older woman.

It didn’t take much for the woman to give him your address, and despite the urge to go straight there, Sebastian knew it was late, signaled by the café closing and he knew small towns like this usually went to sleep early. So he went to the inn, taking a shower and going to bed, trying to sleep, trying to get to the following day.

But his racing heart was making it impossible to sleep, and he laid on the bed, thinking of you, going in and off sleep, dreaming of you.

In the morning, he had breakfast and went to your address in a moment that wasn’t too early in the morning. Your house was a medium sized family looking home, cozy, a big front and backyard. It looked like somewhere to have a family in and to grow old.

He walked up to your porch, drying his hands on his jeans and before he could hesitate, he rang the doorbell.

He wondered if you would welcome him, at least as a friend. His nerves wondered if you had gotten married, had a family, and he was just a pathetic and creepy guy for never moving on from you. He wondered if-

You opened the door, freezing the moment your eyes met his. Sebastian looked at your face, still as stunning as ever, showing small signs of aging, but they suited your face beautifully. Your hair was longer, natural, and your face looked healthy, with a beautiful sunny hue to it.

“Principessa”

“Sebastian…” You said, shocked, “What- How…?”

“Can I come in?” He asked. You nodded, awkwardly scooting away from the doorway so he could come inside.

“I- do you want some tea?” You offered, unsure of how to feel with his presence so out of the blue.

“Yeah,” He nodded, following you inside and sitting on an armchair as you signaled him to. A small teapot on the coffee table between you, “I’ve been looking for you. Why did you disappear?” He asked, his voice almost tinged with despair.

You tried to think of what to say for a moment, pouring two mugs of tea to gather your thoughts, to grapple with the fact that Sebastian Vettel, your rival, lover and friend was there, suddenly, after five long years.

“What happened to you?” He asked again, his voice almost in pain.

“That crash happened…” You said, hands around the warm mug.

“It was worse than they made it seem, wasn’t it?” Sebastian said, a knowing look on his face when you nodded, getting up and slowly walking to a drawer on your bookshelf, he noticed how you favored one leg. You pulled a file from the drawer and walked back to the couch, handing it to him.

Silently, Sebastian opened the file, going through medical reports of you, all dated back to five years ago on that fateful night. You looked like you were avoiding looking at the files, busying yourself with preparing tea for the both of you. Sebastian read through the papers, and what caught his eyes were an x-ray of your knee, the one you were limping now, and a transverse fracture of your spine.

“Oh, my god…” Sebastian whispered, horrified. He stopped on a picture of you laying in a hospital bed, eyes red and puffy from crying that weren’t the main focus of the image, instead it was your knee, immobilized, held in place by a lot of metal pins, “What did they do to you…?”

“The crash, it bursted my knee. I almost lost my leg… Fracture, torn ligament, it was hanging by a thread. And my spine, a fracture that could’ve hindered me to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. It was brutal, my knee took the brunt of the impact, and my back was the split car…” You explained, almost robotically, like you had rehearsed that speech, your eyes were wet as you fought the tears, “They said I was lucky. Lucky I didn’t lose a leg, lucky I didn’t end up paraplegic…” You sighed, swallowing the tears, “They said I could never go back to a racing car again, because the G Forces could put too much strain on my injuries, not to mention, if I injured these two spots again, it would be risking more permanent damages. I was lucky I pulled through.”

There was bitterness in your voice, and how could you not feel bitter about that? How could you not feel angry and sad and mourn the life you once had. A life where racing had been everything to you.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian reached for your hand, his expression completely crestfallen, “We had seen how that car was completely unreliable, how sometimes it worked and sometimes it was a hazard to you. I never thought it could end this badly…”

“And… I’m sorry I disappeared. I know you tried contacting me for a while, but… I just couldn’t see anything related to Formula 1. I couldn’t be near all that without feeling a gut wrenching pain, without feeling anger for anything related to motorsports… I just had to get away from all that.” You explained, looking lost and Sebastian could understand your pain. Despite the times he felt angry and sad for your disappearance, now that he knew about your reason to leave completely… he understood, “I’m sorry. I know you and some other drivers tried reaching out, but I just… I wasn’t in the right mind.”

“I understand. I can’t even imagine what you went through…” he said, his voice so understanding that a lump lodged into your throat, “how was recovery?”

“About a couple of years between the back fracture and the knee… A few surgeries, lots of physiotherapy. Lots of pain and sleepless nights…”

“Did you think about fighting, suing…?” He asked softly.

“I did… I was so angry. I wanted to sue all of them, the team, the FIA, the president. But then…” You paused for a second, “It’d drag out for god knows how long, they would surely bring all the weapons, smear campaigns, defamation, and… My image as a driver, as a person, would just be even more exploited. And I was so tired, I just wanted to heal away from all that.”

“I was so worried for a while. One day I saw your manager leaving the Red Bull hospitality…”

“There was a deal. They offered me an absurd amount of money for me to not sue them, to not bring to light what happened. They also paid for all my medical bills. I also made sure they would review the safety regulations, so no driver would have to risk their life like that again. And I know you’ll say it’s not fair, that they got away with it, but… I was just so tired. I spent my whole life playing a role, being the image they wanted… that tragic ending to my career was all I got? I genuinely wanted to disappear for the longest time after that,” You said, voice cracking for a moment, “Racing was my driving force and suddenly it was ripped away from me.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” He whispered, which made your eyes water for a bit, but you looked at the ceiling, willing the tears away.

“I was a mess, there would be nothing you could do for me…” You said with a devastatingly sad little smile, “And I kept myself completely blocked from Formula 1.”

“Do you still feel pain?” He asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence.

“Physically?” You shook your head, “Sometimes a little discomfort when I’m in places where the weather is very cold.”

“And emotionally?” He whispered and you looked away, swallowing.

“You’re a racer, you can imagine…” That’s all you said.

Sebastian nodded softly, he couldn’t imagine being stopped from doing the one thing he loved the most right in his prime, in the heights of his career like you. And in one fleeting moment having that all stripped away. Your ability to do what you trained your whole life for.

“How-” He cleared his throat, deciding to change topics, “How are you living here? Enjoying?”

“Yeah, lots of free time and new hobbies…” You said, looking grateful for the change in topic, “Wanna see my garden?”

“Sure,” he nodded and you both stood up, he let you lead, his eyes dropping to your slight limp, and the constant sound of the cane hitting the floor with your steps.

You took him around your garden, where there were plants, flowers and even a small cultivation of vegetables. Everything was well cared for and groomed, there was even a small greenhouse where you guided him inside. He could barely look away from your face, your pretty eyes, your lovely lips and beautiful face that only got prettier with time.

“And here…” You stopped inside the greenhouse, “Some plants that are a little more sensitive… Tomatoes, some strawberries…” You grabbed a small clipper and handed him a fresh strawberry.

He stared at you, a silly smile on his face, watching as you grabbed a strawberry and took a small bite, the juices coating your lips in a pinkish color. His eyes dropped to your hand, noticing the absence of a wedding ring, or an engagement ring.

“Do you have a significant other?” He asked, interrupting your ramble for a moment, which made you blink, blushing slightly.

“No, I-” You paused, timid, “No…”

He walked closer, entering your personal space, his hand on your jaw, holding gently, his thumb slowly wiping the leftover strawberry juice on your lower lip.

You looked at him, tempted, looking like you wanted to risk everything. But then you scolded your face, walking away from him and back to your house. He just followed you, until you two were back in your living room. He went after you, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sebastian,” you sighed, unsure of what to say.

“What about us?” he asked, and there was so much unsaid, but you didn’t need words when you could see it all in his eyes.

And despite wanting so badly to give in, to give a real shot to something you never got the chance to explore, you also knew you were still a mess, and being away from Formula 1 for so long, you didn’t want to bring back all the bad feelings you had regarding it. It would put an even bigger strain on you two.

Things were so complicated now, you didn’t tell him you never stopped thinking about him. That you were haunted by what-ifs, that you would have vivid dreams of a family and a future with him. You didn’t tell him about all the sweaty nights when the memories of your shared passion kept you awake. And you didn’t tell him the last thing you saw before passing out after the crash were his shiny blue eyes.

“I’ve been away from motorsports for so long, and I don’t know if-”

“I retired. Last year,” He interrupted you, “and it won’t matter to us. We have so much else to explore…”

“Sebastian… I’m a mess. I look okay now, but I still have bad days. Awful days. And it’s ugly.” You said, voice clipped. Like you weren’t allowing yourself to want, to just take a leap and do what you have yearned for so long.

“I don’t care, don’t you see that I lo-”

“You need to go,” You said walking to the door to open it, as Sebastian paused like a dejavú, “Leave, Sebastian.”

He swallowed, remembering that time you said the exact same words that sent him away. That time he did exactly that, respecting your wishes instead of his own. Gulping, Sebastian took a step forward and turned around on your porch, walking away. He stopped midway to his car, looking over his shoulder. You were still rooted to the spot, watching him. He looked down at his own feet.

“Fuck it,” He muttered under his breath.

He marched back, long strides up to your porch, so fast that you could barely register when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up in a hug, his face nuzzled into your neck, breathing in.

“No,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m not letting you go again. Ever.”

And then finally, finally, you hugged him back, tightly around his neck silently because there was no need for words, a silent understanding of finding each other again. Of having someone like him, who fought for you, to find you even when you thought you shouldn’t be found. When you broke the hug, Sebastian held your face with both hands, his thumb gently wiping the tears you had shed during the hug.

“I love you, Principessa.”

“Even now? Even after all this time?” You asked, voice shaky but your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

“Even after all this time,” He nodded, blue eyes shining in happiness, a barely contained smile on his face.

“I love you too, by the way,” You said, shyly and hiding your face into his chest.

“No, that won’t do,” He laughed, a playful cocky chuckle, “I need you to look me in the eyes when you say it,” He tangled his fingers on your hair at the nape, tugging gently so he could make you look up at him, when you did, there was this playful look in his face and you almost melted right there.

“I love you, Sebastian,” You smiled, feeling silly. Sebastian nodded, leaning forward to peck your cheek, his lips slowly descending your jaw and neck.

“Let me stay,” He asked, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder, closing your eyes.

“Only if you stay forever,” You smiled, and he started walking you backwards, entering your house again, his hands on your hips helping you stay up as he gently nipped your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He said, kicking the door closed behind him, “You also owe me a date, Princess. Remember?” He gently laid you down on the sofa, slowly laying down on top of you, “And I intend to charge it, with all the interest fees…” He joked, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 29 days ago

Note

i loveeeeddd ur Juno fic <3

imagine if glen’s popstar girlfriend gave him the pink fuzzy handcuffs right before she performed Juno and the crowd went CRAZYYY 😂

your wish is my command ✨

Fuzzy pink handcuffs

The lights dimmed as sirens blared from the loudspeakers, capturing the audience’s full attention. In the spotlight, Y/N stepped forward, her gaze focused right on Glenn in the crowd. With a seductive grin, she fanned herself, playing up the moment.

“Glenn Powell,” she purred into the mic, “you are under arrest…for being too hot.”

The crowd erupted, cheering wildly as they turned to watch Glenn’s reaction. He stood in the pit, blushing and laughing, completely captivated by her boldness.

Y/N continued, letting her eyes drift over him as she leaned closer to the microphone. “Guys,” she teased, looking out at her fans, “have you ever seen someone so sexy that they make your clothes just…fall off?”

As she spoke, her hands found the clasp of her breakaway skirt, and in one smooth motion, it fell to the floor, revealing a breathtaking, sparkling bodysuit that left everyone speechless. She tossed Glenn a wink, stepping to the edge of the stage with a mischievous smile, dangling a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. “I can’t wait to handcuff you tonight,” she murmured into the mic, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

With a playful smirk, Y/N launched into “Juno,” the crowd singing along and matching her energy. At the line, “Have you ever tried this one?” she went into downward dog position glancing back at Glenn as she moved. The look on his face was priceless, his heart pounding as he tried to take it all in.

After the show ended, Glenn made his way backstage, anticipation thrumming through him. The moment he saw her, she pulled him into the tour bus, her eyes gleaming with the same playful spark from the stage. They shared a heated kiss, and before he knew it, they were in the shower together, steam filling the small space as water cascaded over them.

Glenn pressed her against the shower wall, whispering praises and teasing murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. “You were so beautiful up there,” he murmured, tracing kisses down her neck. “Such a good girl, driving me crazy.”

He inserted himself inside her making y/n moan

After picking up a good pace

“Still want me to make you juno?” he says. “Please, yes fill me up” y/n says

glenn spills his seed inside of her walls and thrust more inside of her making sure every last drop was inside of her.

Breathless and wrapped up in each other, Y/N and Glenn leaned against the shower wall, water streaming over them as they slowly caught their breath. With a gentle smile, Glenn brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the warmth of the moment lingering as he held her close.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently along her cheek. “You always are.”

She looked up at him, a small, satisfied smile spreading across her face as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “It’s easy to be when I know you’re out there cheering me on.”

They shared a few more quiet kisses, savoring the peaceful aftermath. Eventually, they wrapped up in towels and dried off, laughter bubbling between them as they found themselves back in the cozy space of her tour bus. With takeout pizza boxes spread on the floor, they sat side by side, sharing slices, talking about every highlight of her performance, and sneaking kisses between bites.

As they settled together, the night quieted around them, and they both felt deeply grateful for each other and the memories they’d just created. Glenn wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as they drifted into a peaceful, contented silence, simply enjoying being together.

#tyler owen x f! reader #tyler owen’s x you #tyler owen x fem reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owen’s #tyler owen x reader #tyler owen #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #glenn powell #glen powell fluff #glen powell fanfic #glen powell x reader #glen powell

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starshipsofstarlord · 8 months ago

Text

not yet corpses. still, we rot.

summary. you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

warnings. death, gore, violence, angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of s.a, mentions of death

notes. i changed the specification of the timeline a tiny bit, i moved the timeline of the smut into a flash back as in my head y/n and daryl would be too on guard to fuck after all that trauma. i hope you enjoy my attempt at writing your request, i’d love to know your thoughts 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The crickets sung as aspiring performers in the midst of the fire’s crackling, you were cold, tired and hungry, and all that you wanted to hear was the epiphany of silence. Each limb in your body ached sourly from the endless trekking that you had participated within, the chance to close your eyes and rest sounded spectacular.

But you refrained from succumbing to a fuelling slumber, for you would only be haunted by the reality of the situation that you had no home, and members of your found family were lost to the land that crawled with ravenous walkers… or dead.

The warmth provided from the flames was greatly appreciated by your bumpy flesh, and you stared distantly into the licking of sunset coloured mirage of the makeshift campfire. It dried the whites of your eyes to an irritating texture, however it was better than facing the truth behind the pitiful glances that the three survivors that you had structured the prison alongside donated in your direction.

You weren’t looking for sorrowful attention, you just wanted to find as many of your group as you could, selfishly Daryl more than others. The plain silver band on your finger glinted from the source of radiating and manmade light, flickering your memory back to you and Daryl tying the knot in a place that you had hoped would remain secure.

If it wasn’t for the Governor and his manipulated army, then it would have. You were glad they had their fates, or at least you assumed they all had considering the destruction that had been waged in the graveyard like grounds. There were countless lives that you had ensured were ended as you did your best to ensure that they would regret their life ruining choices.

The clouds grew agitatedly darker within the midnight sky above you, and to the dismay of your body’s survivalist needs, your shoulders shrunk from the bitter air as Rick extinguished the source of warmth. As you idly sat by, remaining in your shroud of speechless presence, Rick escorted Carl to the immobile vehicle, allowing him to sleep on the backseats for extra protection from the horrors that could possibly creep up on you in the night.

Michonne moved closer to you, placing her hand which rarely not held her executing samurai on your jacket clothed bicep, the moment was tender considering that she was doing her utmost to comfort you. “He’s out there,” she spoke with confidence, believing each word that left her mouth. “He’s a survivor, and he knows what he’s doing out there.”

“We were all survivors.” It was a statement, one that caused you great misery to say. “But in the end nobody survives, we’re all going to die one day, and some of the people out there are worse than the walkers. There’s no saying what has happened to the others… to Daryl…” You shook your head, trailing off into a weight of what one would describe as tranquility.

For you however, it was a reminder that in your future everything would be mute. The outbreak would demolish the remaining population of every single species, tainting them with transformative virus until the new and ‘improved’, infinite flock of homo sapiens lay ruin and feast to anything that breathed. The world now belonged to the dead, they were suitably adapted to the unforgiving nature of the world.

Their past minds had been erased, the concepts of a once modern life vanquished as society was. There was nought memories of waiting in endless queues in supermarkets, or eating a buttered bucket of popcorn in a movie theatre. All that corrupted the simple minds of the corpses was necessity to devour anything that they envisioned as food - your mindsets were now of similar values in that slim respect.

Just thinking of your mouth being bitterly tainted with a murderous wash of irony blood revolted you; it was something that you would never swallow, literally. Ripping into human flesh with your very teeth was a repulsive reminder that one bite, or a death without a deadly pressure to the brain, would turn you into one of those monsters. You had to remain alert, despite your body’s almost hypnotic drowsiness to fall asleep.

At least Rick and Michonne had each other, even if they did not acknowledge the true depth of their reciprocated support. You could tell that through their reunion something had changed within their dynamic, and you missed the deep likeness of companionship that you had shared with Daryl. Often times than not, you and the southern blooded archer would be among the seemingly endless forestation that surrounded the safe homestead of the prison, tracking and hunting critters that could surpass as an edible hors d'oeuvres.

There would be bashful conversations drifting between the two of you, whether that be a suave competition of whom could catch the most lustre of nut harbouring squirrels, or- well, in simpler terms, a concoction of unholy words that would prevail when he was erratically buried inside of your cunt. You’d go at it like rabbits in prosperous heat whilst present in the woods; the prison had no privilege of privacy since the residents of Woodbury had adjoined with the residing numbers.

And that was the thing you missed the absolute most, having your man close, in any which way. That cramped bunk within your sheet concealed cell was something you’d die for currently, you adored being pressed up against Daryl’s chest, listening to his tame heart beat, as you fell tentatively asleep.

Watch was more exhausting than it appeared, with a traipse dignifying each of your steps, you rubbed your heavy eyelids, hoping to excuse the tiredness that was overwhelming your body. In your dominant hand you used your shotgun as a walking cane, forcing yourself to return to your cell that you missed dearly. It was better than falling into a shrouding slumber in the middle of the hall; that almost sounded tempting, considering you wouldn’t have to move any further through the large prison, but you had more reason than a cot to sleep on calling your name.

And you saw it as you achingly slid past the hanging drape of a sheet that allowed some privacy in the individual cell that you always returned to and housed your random array of nicknacks that you had picked up on runs into permanently closed stores. Daryl’s body was strewn across the thin mattress, his hand laid across his face covering his depth-full eyes, as his chest rose and fell in an irregular accordance - he was still conscious, unable to doze off into plentiful rest.

Your lips tugged in an endearing smile that he couldn’t see, and you couldn’t resist from creeping closer. That was all you required, to be close to him. There were only a handful of steps remaining until you got to your desired destination, and without so much of a thought, you persevered. “Hey.” The tone that radiated from you was weak, throughout the daytime, your schedule had been filled with condemning tasks which were necessary to keep the smooth run of the prison a constant. Whilst you were doing your maintenance, there had been a not so big, yet not so small, hoard of walkers appear from over the horizon.

Michonne had joined you with handling their swift executions, but your shoulders ached from the striking violence, and the dragging of water caskets; the council, of which you were a part of, had decided to move them out of the sun so their contents would be of a hydrating temperature.

“Ya okay sunshine?” Daryl rolled around so that he was on his side, and sat up on the edge of the bed with a crouching back so that he could view your approach of him. You came to stand between his legs, enjoying the sensation of his hands running around your hips, their warmth filling you with comfort. To lull into the atmosphere which was turning sensual, your fingers coiled in his hair, running through the locks that had grown over the months.

His nose ran softly up your stomach, as he buried his face into your form, having reciprocated your yearning for his company. With a smooth drag from his strong arms, you fell delightedly into his lap, your faces meeting in a staring match as he brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Love ya, so fuckin’ much, my stunnin’ girl.” He mumbled, leading your lips to his in a slow and meaningful collision. The moment was tender, doused in every word that you were too exhausted to say aloud. You were communicating via your actions, discarding the apparel that concealed your bottom halves, giving you the opportunity to slide your cunt down on his erect cock.

You felt blissfully full, the qualms that had bent you to their will through the day slipping instantaneously away. The cupping of your palms positioned themselves on his exposed shoulders, and you ground your hips together, feeling his tip prod deep within you. Daryl shuffled back, kicking his legs out as he wrapped his arms around your frame, treating you so delicately as he fucked you from below. His lips cascaded along every inch of skin that your tank left bare, expressing his adoration for you with his lips and the little circles he drew along your hips. He could never get enough of being close to you, since the first time the two of you had shared together, he had gained more confidence with his role in the sexual situations you shared.

The breaths that huffed past your lips in attempts of being quiet were addictive to his ears, he was desperate to get an audible sound to fester out of you, but the pleasured expression that was imposed on your face was enough; he knew that he was making you feel amazing, and in these lovemaking events, that was all that mattered to him. He groaned at the thought of being somewhere private, where you could make a sound without disturbing anybody, or risking walkers stumbling upon you.

You were close, Daryl could feel it, your walls clenched uncontrollably around his length, which drove him wild, and cautiously he bucked his hips upwards a little faster, careful not to cause the bed to squeak to badly as there were people sleeping in both cells either side your own. He sat further up, his back straighter so that he could brush his teeth gently along your jaw, driving you wild as your hands drove beneath the sleeveless sides of his shirt, caressing his scarred flesh with tentativeness.

You were snapped out of your daydream in the omnipotent dark as you felt the scuffing of crinkling leaves, and before you could adjust into defensive action, there was a cold metal muzzle pressed into your muzzle, by a man with silver locks and a denim vest suited to his greedy physique. Without a doubt, these were the same men that had traipsed upon the house that you and Rick had been inhabiting whilst Michonne and Carl were strolling the streets.

They were claimers to objects they valued as things that their greed thirsted for, and you shuddered a breath as the man threatening your life steadied his grotesque arm upon your shoulder all the whilst he opened his mouth to converse impolitely. “Maybe we’ll keep this one alive, she’s a looker.” It felt as though he was bragging about the possibility to his hungry followers that you could be his property.

He recognised Rick that was for sure. You’d been a witness to the man that had taken it upon himself to cozy his fat ass on the toilet, and the way in which his throat was denied oxygen to passage through it. You and Rick had been huddled under the bed that dipped from their pocket heavy weights as you had ran to awaken him as you were certain you’d heard something before they bustled into the once home to a stranger that was no doubt long dead. And in your escape, you had put a deadly pressure on the invader’s throat… until he permanently passed out.

To exasperate your distaste for his misogynistic idea, you spat upon the ground, your nostrils flaring as you dared to spin your head back so that his gun was resting upon your forehead. If he was going to shoot, he might as well make it quick, considering you didn’t intend to be alive if they had the intentions of taking sick advantage of your body.

As you prepared to retort an insult that foully would cause further trouble for you and your friends, they momentarily became distracted but still alert as a figure slunk onto the clearing. You had to allow your vision to focus, and when it did, you were shocked in the best possible way. It was Daryl, and he was certainly alive. He seemed to be acquainted with this pack of scavengers, and you realised that the ordeal in which he had went through was the only way in which he could have survived.

He didn’t liken association with low lives that threatened those he cared about, however he hadn’t seen their full nature until now. Daryl felt at a crossroads as he took complete acknowledgment of the weapon that was frozen against your skull; he couldn’t be rash, they were a lousy, impulsive group, and he was lit with elation in every cell of his body to see that you were still breathing.

“Jus’ hold up.” His gentle footsteps were slowly approaching in a careful regard as his voice strained with caution. He couldn’t help but eye Joe up - he had a gun to your damn head! If he pulled that trigger… he wouldn’t allow that bullet to be released. You were far too great a risk to have on the line, he had to settle this, like a man. Rick was squinting up at him, determining the reason for the unsurprising reaction the claimers had given his presence.

“One of these two is the one that killed Lou so we got nothing to talk about.” The rugged, richly certain statement fled from one of the thieving men, as he had his long barrel raised, Rick being the focus on the end of his gun that had most likely been stolen in the crossfires of their apocalyptic journey. Anything was loot to them, even with their rules, they were scoundrels no doubt before the end of the world had began, and they would leave it no different. But Daryl wasn’t willingly going to allow them to either kill or claim you, your worth was insanely precious, and he wouldn’t allow all you had been through to be for nothing.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time.” Joe said from behind you, realising that finally, Daryl had proven himself despite the cautionary warnings and delivered punishments that the archer had bore witness to, but he was just to be a loss to them if he didn’t get behind the way, then he would just be an obstacle in the way. “Say your piece Daryl.” This was his final chance, but he had been given an opportunity. Joe liked to think of himself as an understanding man, there was always a reason as to why a swine didn’t want to roll in the mud; his gaze noticed that your eyes didn’t deter away from the redneck that was new to his ranks. There was an expression that he didn’t recognise upon upon your face, but he was willing to use it for his own purposes if it came to such a crossroads.

“These people…” Daryl cast his eyes momentarily at you again, as though he was pleading for you to remain still and allow him to be the peacemaker. And you subtly nodded, brows drawing together as you concentrated on the group members who had taken up space in your surroundings. “You gon let em go. These are good people.” He was attempting to find some humanity in this man who was leaning like a shadow over you, if there was any. It was the same careful traipse of dialogue that he would use with Merle when he was being inconsiderate before the outbreak, it hardly worked, his brother would laugh and call him a pussy, but Daryl had learned how to use his heart.

It was there to love, and whilst it still felt new, to be loved. These were his people, you were his person, and it was his responsibility to save you. He had tried to protect Beth, and whilst she had gotten out of that mortuary house with her life in tact despite the wave of walkers that had invaded through the front door, she still had to be alive. And so did the others, wherever in the country they were, no one was weak, each of you had your own strengths and that would get you somewhere. It had to.

“Now I-I-I think Lou would disagree with yer on that.” The grey haired man stuttered, and you weren’t sure whether it was due to the lack of respect he felt from Daryl whom he had taken in as one of his own - a stray, or if he felt inferior. You supposed it was the latter, there was a continual pattern with each man that fought for power that you had noticed after your encounters. They feared any soul opposing them, it made them appear frail and insecure, just like the Governor had been with the instances involving Andrea and Michonne. “I’ll of course have to speak for him an’ all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Guilt overflowed like a faucet in your throat; you didn’t regret killing ‘Lou’. Rick had been your supporting witness, but there were no longer court trials condemned to determine the punishments for living, instead those that thought they were in control of the passers-by that they encountered - and to them, what fit every crime was death. There was now nought reason for you to brood in your squalor, you could see Daryl’s face, and if that was the last image that you had earned before the end of your life, you were glad. Though you were stubborn to go out fighting, otherwise your entire life after the prison; the tears, the passiveness, and the little amount of blood that had spilt from you would all have been for nothing.

“You want blood, I get it.” Daryl read them, Joe had already killed one of his own men, he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to a found family of strangers. They weren’t good people, they were miscreants that had given him the choice to either join them on their sin induced travelling, or die. And he had been broken, lost and alone, there had been no other choice if he had the intent of surviving in order to drains you. With disregard, he threw his arms in a stance, disarming himself as his crossbow flew out of his hands, falling on the ground, showcasing that he had an offer that Joe would not justify with a refusal “Take it from me man. Come on.”

Your heart swelled, Daryl was putting his own life on the line so that he could save you and your friends. A glaze of emotion was cast over your eyes, as you tried to slow your heartbeat, if you panicked, none of you would get out of this. “This man and woman killed our friend. You say their good people.” It was ironic, if you weren’t so shocked you would have stifled a laugh. These people weren’t friends, there weren’t any tears for their dear Lou, no, they craved any excuse to take and take and take. The revenge they were stubborn with pursuing was only a reason to get their hands bloody, and feel powerful as they got further away from the concept of being a human. “Now that right there i-i-is a lie. It’s a lie!”

Daryl couldn’t bargain through this, they were set in stone when it came to their perception of inflicting both emotional and physical pain. With disappointed defeat, his arms flopped haplessly at his sides, as he continued to stand straight. He had to get through to them! They could budge just a little, he just had to encourage them, make them believe that letting you live was the wrong thing to do. “C’mo-” Before he could continue his pleads to be the centre of violent attention, one of the lowlife claimers wretched their foot into his stomach, causing him to wheeze uncontrollably from the harsh impact.

At the sight alone of him getting hurt, it was on instinct that you prepared to swerve into action. You had to stop this, you had to save him. Your hands scratched against the golden leaves that were all over the ground as you tried to scramble up on your feet, attempting to prevent further bruising or blood withdrawal from Daryl’s body, however a sharp pain flew through your scalp. Joe had grabbed you, maintaining you as his hostage as his fingers weaved aggressively through your hair, forcing you to jut your chin out from the painful discomfort.

“Teach him fellas.” His tone was strong as he beckoned his orders, his deep, soulless eyes twitching from the agitation that had pent up within him. “Teach him all the way.” He ensured that they were aware of what he wanted, and the rest of the claimers were gratified to comply with his protocol of brutality, shoving Daryl up against the frozen vehicle, the clash of his body against it being audible from where you knelt. They threw punch after hateful punch, and Daryl struggled to maintain his stance against them; it was two against one.

“C’mere boy.” The words were growled out through the open car door, as Carl was dragged away from the hiding space. He couldn’t escape, and the claimers were getting the best of your group, and they were in afraid to draw blood. A knife was held firmly against the boy’s throat, and your eyes bulged from the petrifying suspense. Tears slipped from Carl’s blue eyes that had witnessed far too much for his age, and Rick began to panic. Lori had lost her life when she was birthing Judith, who now was also somewhere in the unknown, probably dead. He wouldn’t fail as a father a second time and allow his remaining child to die. “You leave him be!” Rick bellowed, which only made the sick men chuckle at his despair as they held him down from writhing towards an escape to rescue his son.

“Listen it was me! It was just me!” The words shrieked from your lips, as you felt a pool of despair puddle in your eyes. This was all because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t panicked within the moment of entrapment, and you hadn’t forlorn Lou to whichever afterlife lay after the present, then the claimers would have spared you, envisioning you as stragglers that had done no harm. There was a debt to be paid; a score that Joe felt he had to settle, and it was all because of your pathological actions. If anyone had to own up and pay the cost of taking the life of their adjoined associate, it should be you.

They wanted a permanent justice of a life, and you were happy enough to allow them to take it, as long as you were deemed the victim. That said however, if there was a route away from a pledged sentence, you would take it so that your entire family, including you would be spared. You just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and then there would be no hesitation on your part. “See now that’s right.” Joe’s words saturated your spine with a discerning flavour of fright, as he pushed the threatening metal harsher against the shell of your brain.

Rick’s eyes drifted in a frantic debauch between his sobbing son, who was thrashing under the weight of the gruesome man who conveyed him as nothing more than an activity; he’d enjoy watching him die; and you, whom was rigid from head to toe. His mind tried its damndest to calculate a way to save you both, you’d become like a sister to him despite the arrogance that you’d greeted him with back at the Atlanta camp, blaming him dreadfully for Merle’s captivity on that rooftop, rather than Merle and his big, loud and agonising mouth that tended to land him in a swarm of trouble. You had always been on Daryl’s side, but now you shared a connection after the fleeting experiences that had doubtlessly backed you against a wall.

“That’s not some damn lie. Look we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” Joe reasoned with self interest and vengeance, his stone irises scouring languidly down your tense body from above, a little impressed that a woman had managed to withdraw the life of one of his boisterous comrades. His breath heaved down on you, making your skin crawl with distaste. And so he continued, making you all the more seasoned with spite. “First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then your friend next to you. Then the other girl. Then the boy. And then we shoot you and then we’ll be square.” His maniacal laugh retorted in an echo, as his words truly sunk in. There had been enough devastation, and you viewed each of those you cared for with compassion.

Carl was writhing across the golden leaves that appeared gray beneath the silver moon, leaking from his tear ducts with agonising fear. Rick was stern with his demanding pleas that did nothing but resort humour into the audience that had you at gun point. Michonne was wide eyes and prepared for any intrusion that could occur, silently realising that you would be the culprit to begin a ravenous fight. And Daryl, god Daryl was swinging his arm back as much as he was able, losing against the two men that had the delight of using him as a punching bag. You couldn’t wait any longer, no one was on their way to save you, there was no other choice but try again, planning on a physical tactic this time.

“Let them go.” You hissed dangerously thro the your teeth, flickering your eyes around one last time, managing to make eye contact with Michonne, the gun against her braided head remind you that it was now or never. Joe felt hilarity from your demand, and you repeated it in an increased volume, distracting him with the sound of your voice before you threw your head back, whacking the man behind you with a mind numbing force. The bang of a bullet stirred a hazy cast across your field of vision, spiring a high pitched scream of white noise in your ears, but it was worth it. Joe had stumbled aback, the impact having arose a newfound course of adrenaline to fluster through your pumping veins.

With the rush that jolted you into a spiralling spree of sudden action, you span around, standing upon your two feet as you threw a heavy punch to your enemy’s tired face, a concerned look transpiring upon Rick’s face, as Daryl failed with unfortunate consequences to prevail in his hand to hand combat hustle. In return, you had earned a blow to the face, the force of Joe’s fist causing you to be upon the floor once again. “Oh it’s gonna be so much worse now.” To support his promise, his foot met with your ribs, causing a holler and a pained gasp to escape you; there would no doubt be a bruise left if you survived this assault.

Another slap brandished your face with a stinging hue, as you stumbled up, staggering slightly as you did your best to focus on winning this physical battle. “Come on, get up! Come on, let’s see whatcha got.” He was teasing you, drowning you with anger from the mockery he betrothed you with, as a red line ran pleasantly from his nose. “C’mere!” He growled, prompting you for more, and to see his blood spill was a divine gift, even as he breathed disgustedly against you as he grabbed you by the waist, holding you in front of his body. “What the hell you gonna do now slut?”

There was no possibility of escaping his grip with your form alone, he was a sturdy man, albeit an evil one, but he had you in his monstrous clutch. Your brain racked with a free flow of a matching immoral high ground, and thus you thought of the walkers, and how they took life. Your noggin tossed back in a flurry of monstrosity, your teeth gnashing until they pried formlessly upon his throat, the flesh running between each porcelain tooth as you found purchase in the skin, tugging with animosity, until the torn fragment of his body was pulled away, blood spattering in a revolted spray from your mouth.

The claimer gradually fell, pausing his team from their desolate nature of commanding death as their leader met his end, laying in a lifeless pile on the ground. Michonne and Rick pursued their captor’s, sweeping their lives away in a more sophisticated fashion than you had, and Daryl gained the upper hand from your repulsive distraction. As Rick fled from where he had knelt, he sprinted to pursue Carl’s release, as you remained still, shocked with your own tactile second nature. Your face was half covered in blood, like you were a young child whom had gotten into their mother’s makeup bag, but that wasn’t the reality. You shook, astounded with trauma.

Arms coiled around you, as Daryl held your crimson chin in his hand, looking lovingly at you despite the circumstances that had lead to your freedom. “Sunshine.” The term was distinctly ironic, but the cigarette husk that adorned his throat remained full of love. Since the outbreak you had all had to complete extensive steps to remain breathing, and your breath stuttered as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your archer’s chest, but he held your head up, as he dragged the red rag from his pocket, swiping across the stain that made the rag even redder. As you looked around yourself, you saw past the massacre and felt relief.

This was home; these people, especially the one right in front of you. His hand stroked roughly against your cheek as a long, heartfelt peck was planted upon your forehead. He had found you, in this sick world that had all of you lost. You smiled at him, resting your forehead against his as you shared a harmonious breath. “I’m just happy your alive Dixie.” You tried to uplift the mood, as did Rick and Michonne, as they fussed with care over Carl. Daryl couldn’t care less for the state that you were displayed in, he pulled you closer, unable to resist your lips. You shared a kiss, it was passionate and filled with circumstantial desperation, your hands pulled at his neck as you tried to get his face closer.

You could only move on from this happening, there was no dwelling. There was no guilt bore in your chest, those that tried ripping you apart deserved a worse fate, and you had only been fair since considering the consequences they had imposed on forcing you to experience. The Governor was the same, and so would the next foolish soul that failed the lengths that you would all go through to protect each other. You felt sick from the vehemence that had concurred from your body, but you had found more pieces of your familial puzzle, and you had every intention of finding the rest.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic

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sorcerousundries · 26 days ago

Note

If you're taking requests, could you please write something about which Lotr and The Hobbit characters would be most attracted to a reader who's really intelligent and good at debating them? Like I'm picturing a sort of Rivals to Lovers dynamic where the reader is super smart and really good at arguing their points, but I'm curious which Tolkien characters you think would be most into that type of partner 🤔

I can totally picture Eomer falling for a person like that because he honestly seems perfect for Enemies to Lovers arcs, but tldr what Tolkien characters do you think would be most attracted to a super intelligent person who could debate them into the dirt? Thanks!

I have been alone all my life but with the compensations of intellect.

Lord of the rings and The hobbit characters react to an intelligent reader

Warnings: none

Includes: Elrond, Thranduil, Gimli and Éomer

A/n: thank you for your request <3

Content under the cut

Elrond — Friends to lovers

You and Elrond would meet in a fairly formal setting, maybe during a business gathering or a dinner of sorts.

You would be chatting with some high noble who would introduce you to lord Elrond and the two of you clicked immediately.

He would often invite you for tea and insist you stay for dinner, maybe offering you a bed as the hour gets later.

He is knowledgeable about history, lore and the affairs between both men and elves alike, he would likely be drawn to someone he can engage deeply in discussions of middle earths past, present and future.

The debates between you and lord Elrond would be competitive but friendly, if he lost he would shrug it off, the pinnacle of healthy masculinity. If he won, he wouldn’t care, maybe tease you if your friendship started to grow closer but never in a cruel, condescending way.

He would grow feelings slowly yet steadily, he would never force himself on you but he couldn’t deny the flutter of his heart whenever you’d smirk triumphantly as besting him during a debate of which medicine would be best to use for a rope burn, the simple action making his heart warm.

As your relationship turns romantic your playful banter wouldn’t stop, it would only grow, turning into silly debates before bed as you two move in chorus around the bedroom, performing your separate night routines though you’d never allow the room to grow silent as you chat about whatever topic comes to mind.

Overall he’d enjoy having a partner that he could chat away with, it’s rare that he finds someone who equals his intelligence, let alone best it.

Thranduil — Shared traumas

Thranduil would likely already be acquainted with you, after all the king knows everything that happens in his kingdom.

Though he only started to cultivate a relationship with you when you outwitted him in his own throne room, for the first time a millennium the king of the woodland realm was left speechless, you intrigued him, instead of sending you away he invited you to join him in his study.

The debates between you two would be filled with romantic tension, heated discussions would be filled with you leaned so forward your nose would also my be touching his, as you did something that countered his you would pull back, thoughts of how his eyes would dart down to your lips so quick you almost didn’t see it would flood your brain.

He would love discussing battle strategies and such, even better if an elf and you saw the battle for yourself.

Nothing pleases him more than falling back on you when he doubts his leadership skills, after having to listen to courtiers and advisors drone on about their ideas and excuses, he can go to and simply sit across the room as you answer his questions logically, not even looking up from your book.

Your relationship would start to turn romantic when he confided in you about his troubles, his worries for his son, even telling you about the death of his wife.

And who knows, maybe he’ll pull you in for a kiss before you turn in for the night.

Gimli — opposites attract

Gimli would first see you at the court of Elrond, during the forming of the fellowship.

He never thought his heart would lurch from his chest when he saw an elf sitting at lord Elrond side, chin held high and regal.

Not even his admiration for lady Galadriel could compare to the way his heart jumped at the sight of you.

While he’s not typically seen as a debater, Gimli has a strong sense of pride surrounding his culture and way of life, he would be drawn to someone who can engage in conversation about dwarven history and culture with him.

He would hold an immense level of respect for you, often coming to you to double check any technical blueprints or a different perspective if he’s struggling to visualise how something would come together. He would appreciate someone who can offer unbiased opinions not swayed by any existing rivalry between elves and dwarves.

Any debates with him would lively and high spirited,he would engage enthusiastically defending his views with passion and light hearted humour, your discussions could range from history and craftsmanship to the simple differences between elves and dwarves.

He would let out a small “oh!” As you kiss him on the cheek, nodding him a farewell after helping him find scrolls about an ancient smithing technique, his smile turning his eyes into slights as he pumps his fist once you’ve turned your back.

Eomer — Enemies to lovers

Eomer would find your intelligence intriguing and infuriating at the same time.

His warrior ideals and loyalty to Rohan would initially clash with your more logical approach to things, your debates would arise over strategies in battle most likely.

Early on in your relationship, misunderstandings were the main fuel to your bitter relationship. Your critical views on his leadership or warfare would be interpreted as disrespect, driving a wedge between you two.

But as the power of Sauron grows, you’re forced to put your differences aside.

He would begrudgingly admit that you’re actually very useful in a fight, offering new ideas that contrast his own.

However one night as your both sat around the fire, when every other solider has turned in for the night, he might open up, revealing to you his fears about not being a good leader, you in turn offer him insights and philosophical perspectives that resonate with him.

He thinks about the conversation when he nods silently before sauntering off to his tent, laying in bed staring up at the white linen cloth of his tent, the words he forgets as he slowly realises he in-fact wasn’t listening to your words, instead focusing on the curve of your lips and the brush of your eyelashes against your cheeks every time you blinked, the way your eyes gleamed as the fire crackled.

He frowns as the words “oh shit, I’m in love with them” echoed in his inner monologue.

He doesn’t tell you through words rather showing you, right before the rohirrims marched to Gondor he would give you heated kiss, displaying not his passion as a warrior, but as a lover.

#lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #elrond x reader #thranduil x reader #gimli x reader #Éomer x reader #eomer x reader

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jadeoru · 5 months ago

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SMUDGED LIPSTICK

07: silent treatment -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: tightrope - movements 🎶

Awkward. Everything about this was awkward. You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, your back pressed against the bed frame. You haven’t looked at him once. He sat on the bed beside you, sitting cross-legged on the edge of it. He was shamelessly staring at you; yet you refused to even acknowledge his existence. He silently admired your features, watching as you typed away on your phone. After taking a quick peek at your screen, he deducted that you were writing song lyrics. His eyebrows raised up briefly, face filled with amusement. Selfishly, he was glad to be here during your writing process. He thought to himself that maybe if this song gets finished, you might decide to release it to the world. And maybe, if that were to happen, you might add this song to future setlists; perform it for thousands to see. Then, maybe, just maybe, as the words you typed out right here beside him left your lips, maybe you would think of him; you would remember this moment. He shoved his ‘maybe’s’ aside, and watched your face scrunch up in concentration. As he watched you structure each verse carefully, only one thought crossed his mind:

Holy shit, you’re beautiful.

He’s glad you haven’t told him off for staring yet because god, he missed your face. He missed hearing your voice, even if your words were fueled by hatred; disgust. You made even the most incoherent of ramblings sound like poetry. His eyes scanned your face, putting every inch of your skin to memory, almost in fear that he would never get the chance to see it again. His heart panged at the thought of never seeing these expressions of yours again - how your tongue darted across your bottom lip. You shifted around on the floor. He knew you were incredibly uncomfortable down there, but your spite and pettiness outweighed any discomfort you felt. He fidgeted with his phone, trying to look like he was doing something, anything. He tried to act as if he wasn’t as desperate as he really was.

He failed.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “So are y-” “no.” ouch. You shut him down immediately, not even bothering to hear him out. He deserved it, he thought to himself. He would try again regardless. He would keep trying to get a word that wasn’t ‘no’ or ‘shut up’ out of you, no matter how annoying he got. But after the sixth time, it was evident to him that this would be a lot harder than it seemed. He was ashamed of how pathetic he was towards you, but the thought of giving up hasn’t crossed his mind once. If you didn’t want to speak physically, maybe there were other ways to get a conversation out of you.

He turned his phone on, and quickly added you to his contacts, before beginning to type.

extra:

BOKUAKA IS REAL!!!

sakusa feels SO pathetic but he always feels that way when it comes to you

you somehow always leave him speechless

but that doesn't mean anything!!!! he just misses your friendship!! thats all!!! totally!!

i wonder what the song yn was writing is about 🤔🤔

noya and hinata are having the equivalent of a 6 year old girls sleepover

like theyre giggling and talking about boys n shit

7 chapters in and they still hate each other.... oops...

its okay guys we're getting to the good part i promise

good things are coming!!!

kinda!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @anianurst @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69

reply to this or send me an ask to be added to the taglist ! ^__^

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xinmin-exe · 11 months ago

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Attack On Titan characters as Parents

Note: I haven't really watched attack on titan in years, so I'm sure all of these characters are gonna be OOC ALSO i am making it so everyone survived in the end and they all got their happy ending because these babies deserve it

WARNINGS: fem!reader, brief mentions of past trauma, mentions of miscarriage, very brief mention of the birthing process,

Eren

Eren was so traumatized after what his father did, he almost had a break down when you told him you were pregnant. It took him a couple weeks, and many, many late night talks with Armin until he was willing to try to be there for you. Eren was so nervous and worried he was going to be just like his father but the moment he saw his kid, everything just clicked. He was so gentle with them and always made time to talk and play with them during the day. As they got older, their bond grew even closer as Daddy and Aunt Mikasa took them out hunting every couple of weeks. Eren is an amazing father who despite everything he went through, made damn sure to do better for his child.

Armin

Armin never imagined having children, it just wasn't something he saw in his future. that was, until you came into his life and changed everything. When your little bundle of joy was born, Armin was in tears. He couldn't help but admire them and want to give them everything. Since then, Armin has done everything to nurture their ideas and passions. He even took them to the sea and let them play around. He wanted them to grow up with everything he couldn't have (aka, parents) so he did everything he could to stick around. Armin turned down multiple high government positions just to stay close to you and his child. Armin is the parent we all need in our lives.

Mikasa

When you approached Mikasa with the idea of wanting to adopt, she was speechless. Ever since her parents were killed, she never thought about having children. However, she loved you so much that she wanted to at least try. After all, she wasn't exactly motherly (at least that's what she will tell people) When Hange introduced you two to a young child (maybe 5 or 6) from the underground Mikasa's heart melted. She saw herself in this child so much that her protective instincts kicked in. She was so protective of this child, no one, and i mean no one besides you could be left alone with them. Even if it was armin or Eren, Mikasa was always in the room, one second away from glaring the other person into the next century. Mikasa really warmed up to the idea of being a parent and fit into the role well.

Jean

Jean was the one of the only in the group who wanted to still have kids. He knew what he wanted from life and was damned if some suicidal maniac was going to stop him. So when you were giving birth, Jean made sure he was right next to you, holding your hand and encouraging you the entire time. Even though you did scream at him "this is your fault! If i live through this i am going to KILL you Kirstein!" (the nurses thought that it was funny) But once your child was here, nothing else mattered. Once you were able to leave the hospital and go home, all Jean did was take your kid around and show off. Constantly saying "look at what i did" or "aren't they just gorgeous like their mom?" He always had something to brag about (even if the thing wasn't brag worthy), to Jean, anything your child did was amazing. Jean is very much the parent to scream at the back of the room while their kid is performing and embarrass the shit out of them.

Connie

Connie hadn't given having kids much thought. Afterall, he didn't even know if he'd be surviving long enough to be given that option. But once you told him you were pregnant, he was over the moon! Connie didn't let you move a muscle, ever. You need something from the top shelf? He's getting the stepstool. You want some food? He's already getting the ingredients out. And when you went into labor, he was right by your side. He let you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed to, and he made sure you were given everything possible to make birth as comfortable as it could be. Connie was so overwhelmed with love once he laid eyes on your child, the only time he let you hold them was when they needed to be fed. Connie got up to soothe them during the night, claiming it was the least he could do since you went though the pain of giving birth. Connie was there at every single milestone for their life, and he was never, ever going to stop being there for them; or for you.

Sasha

Oh boy, Sasha is the cool mom. When you two first adopted your child, she was admittedly a little awkward around them. But, after many late night snacks and a few bad cooking experiences, Sasha blossomed into a wonderful mom. She made sure they were eating properly and always had snacks on her. Your kids friends know that they will eat good when Sasha is around, and you two have become THE family. Sasha does tend to spoil them and say "yes" practically every time they ask for something, but they never try to manipulate that. You and Sasha both make sure your kid is kind and humble and thoughtful. With Sasha at your side, nothing is impossible and raising a child together was the best decision you two ever made.

Levi

Levi initially turned down the idea of having kids. Claiming that he was not fit to be a father, but fate wasn't having it. When you found out you were pregnant, you were worried to tell Levi. You knew he didn't want kids and you had grown to be content with that. What would he say when he found out? Would he leave you? Those thoughts sent you spiraling when Hange eventually let the cat out of the bag. Levi was silent but you could see in his eyes that was he happy. Even though he didn't want kids, he knew he wanted you. If that meant having to raise another brat then so be it. At first, he did the basics, changed their diapers, fed them, etc. But he never truly bonded with them until they were older and confided to Levi that they felt like an outsider looking in. He listened and did his best to offer advice and words of wisdom that might help. From then on, Levi was so much more involved and made sure that they were getting the life they deserved.

Erwin

Erwin was possibly the most excited to be a father. After everything, when things began settling down he approached you with the idea of trying for kids. At first you were the hesitating one, but Erwin was able to convince you to at least think about it. After a while, you were on board and baby, he got to work. It was along road, you had a miscarriage and that was demoralizing. Erwin made sure to support you the entire time. He understood that you may not want to try again and he was okay with that. It took you a year or so after for you to want to try again. But eventually, with enough effort and support, you gave birth to a beautiful baby. Erwin was in love with your child the moment he laid eyes on them. He spoiled them as much as he could, whenever he could. He was a dotting husband, and even more dotting father.

Hange

Oh boy, Hange is.. enthusiastic to say the least. They see it as a new experiment, at first. Hange takes your pulse every day, they measure how much you eat as well as your weight. When you gave birth, they were overwhelmed. There was a beautiful little bundle wrapped up in your arms and all Hange wanted was to hold them. Hange was so careful that you almost had to do a double-take. They held your child so gently, like glass. From then on, it was like the whole world vanished for them. They prioritized being there and being a parent over anything. Hange recorded all the milestones (first steps, first word, first tooth, etc) but they also recorded every other moment (like when they babbled for the first time, or when they first rolled over). But to Hange, they were all important moments.

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 7 months ago

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In Time

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 2 - 1.4K WC

Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: holy fluff, like all fluff, literally nothing but sweet sweet fluff

------------------------------

You and Feyd stood across from each other in your shared chamber. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, it was much darker than you imagined. Darker in the sense that it was made well known that you were to submit to Feyd. You had not been allowed to see each other after the initial engagement and your thoughts were getting the better of you. You worried once the deed was done, once you were officially married and bound to each other, he might not be the man you met. The kind, inquisitive one who craved gentleness. Perhaps he truly was the Feyd Rautha everyone feared.

You toddled your feet, looking everywhere but at him. He stepped closer and you instinctively took a step back. “My apologies my Lord Na-Baron.” you said quietly.

“Do not apologize. Are you scared?” he asked, remaining where he was.

“A bit.” you replied, fidgeting with your hands.

“Of me?” he asked, you could see a hint of pain behind his gaze.

You flicked your eyes to him. He could tell without getting a verbal answer from you that you were afraid of him. He felt a small pang in his chest, and yet, he understood your hesitation.

“I do not expect anything from you,” he reassured, “but… I would like to get to know you.” he said.

You took a small step towards him, “… but… do we not have… duties to perform?” you asked shakily, eyes wandering to the bed.

He could feel the fear radiating off of you, “No. Not until you are ready.” he said with certainty.

You raised your eyebrows slightly, not expecting him to cater to you in such a way given how much pressure is put on the production of an heir.

“Why don’t you bathe, change into something comfortable, and we can talk then? I’ll do the same… in separate quarters, for your comfort.” he said walking backwards towards the door.

You nodded, watching him walk out. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in before moving to the bathroom. You began discarding all the intricate accessories in your hair, on your neck, on your arms, and finally your dress. You looked at the black paint that was put on your body before the wedding. War paint. Was this marriage going to be a war? You ran yourself a bath, watching the black streak off your body slowly. You sunk down, letting the water envelope you completely. You felt peace here, underwater and away from everything. Alas, peace cannot last forever. Not on Geidi Prime.

-----------------------------------------

Feyd re-entered your shared chamber. It felt sterile. Feyd could hear you in the bath still, so he decided to have the maids bring in different foods before activating different lights around the room, casting soft indirect light around. He sat on the sprawling couch in nothing but comfortable pants, his war paint also washed off his torso. He was on display and felt like he needed armor at this moment. He felt vulnerable. Lost in thought he almost didn’t realize the bathroom door slid open. His head snapped up, you wore the silken black night clothes the maids had left for you. Your face was bare and your hair was still damp; he had never seen someone so real, so beautiful. Speechless, he motioned for you to sit on the couch with him.

“What’s all this?” you asked, looking around at the lights and different trays of foods.

“I figured it might take us a while to learn about each other.” he said with a shy smile.

You nodded, afraid to start the conversation.

“We shouldn’t hide anything from one another, agreed?” he said, grabbing a strange looking black fruit.

You nodded, “Where would you like to start?” you asked him, keeping your eyes on him, trying to study him.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked.

You chuckled at the trivial question, “It’s black… more a lack of color really.” you smiled softly.

“Well you’re on the right planet if that’s the case.” he said.

You laughed at his comment, a true laugh. He had never heard something so enchanting. “I can ask anything, yes?” you asked.

He nodded, reaching to hand you a slice of the fruit he was eating.

You took it graciously, ”Why are your teeth black? Only your darlings had black teeth from what I’ve seen.” you said.

“You know of my darlings?” he asked with wide eyes, as if he had been caught.

“I’m not stupid, I know the needs of bored men.” you said as you ate the fruit.

“I dismissed them, they… they were concubines. Nothing more, I swear it.” he rushed out.

“It’s alright Feyd. Now, my question needs an answer.” you waved off his worries.

“I - I’m afraid it's a rather shallow answer… They are considered beautiful on Geidi Prime. Pure vanity I suppose.” he smiled, showing his blackened teeth.

You nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Your turn.” you said as you picked up random foods to try.

“What else can your eyes do?” he asked, eating with you.

You smiled perkily, excited someone was interested in your invention. “Night vision, stunning, even managed a laser in one. Mostly they are for seeing but they have all sorts of ‘hidden features’. I particularly enjoy the thermal vision, helps me see what people are concealing.” you said showing Feyd each setting as you spoke.

“Magic indeed.” he smiled.

Throughout your conversation you shifted closer to him, hours passed learning continuously about each other. The conversation flowed smoothly, as if you had known each other for years.

“What are your scars from?” you asked, pointing to the scattered marks.

Feyd fell quiet, fingers deftly tracing over a few of them. “The Baron is not kind. He… ever since I was small he…” you saw the hurt and hate in Feyd’s eyes.

You nudged him with your knee but got no reaction. You softly pushed him back on the couch so he was relaxing against the back of it. You watched him with cautious eyes, you stood before straddling him. It felt slightly awkward at first but once you found your bearings you pressed him to you in a tight hug, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him. He wasted no time reciprocating.

“You won't be hurt anymore, I swear.” you said to him before finally leaning back. Your lips were dangerously close. Your breaths mingled, both your eyes wandering between each other's eyes and lips. You leaned in, Feyd met you halfway. The kiss was soft, hesitant. Yet the longer it went on the more you craved him. You felt his hands slide to your hips, squeezing your supple flesh. You let out a small whimper, causing both of you to stop and stare at each other.

You chuckled, “I have much to learn in the areas of intimacy, husband.” you said to him.

Feyd chuckled, stealing a kiss before he responded with a hum, “Wife.” he smiled hazily.

“Do you have other questions?” he asked, kissing your fingers softly.

“What do you expect of me as your wife?” you asked, expecting him to say children.

“Nothing… except…” he hesitated.

“What?” you said tilting his chin up to meet your eyes. He looked… afraid. Something you never thought you would see.

“It is foolish.” he waved you off.

“Tell me anyway.” you asked, almost begging to know.

“Love… and even then I do not expect it but… I wish for it. For something I have never had.” his head fell, as if he expected you to strike him for asking this.

You cradled his face in your palms, “Who’s to say the seed of love has not already been planted between us? Who’s to say it doesn’t bloom more and more each moment I am with you?” you pecked his lips, eyes finding his when you pulled back. “We have both been neglected of love we deserve, of love we crave. I wish for nothing more than to love and be loved, Feyd.” you said in a genuine and vulnerable tone. You had never been so honest with someone and you doubt he had either. A smile graced his lips as he held you close to him. You messed with your wrist control panel before blinking, your pupils shifting into the shape of a heart.

Feyd laughed at your cute antic, “Magic eyed beauty.” he mumbled out.

You laughed in return, “Fearless pretty boy.” you kissed his nose.

“Pretty?” he scoffed.

“Very pretty indeed.” you said, doubling down on your statement, hugging him once more.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

IDK how I feel about this, I wasn't planning on doing a part 2 but somebody requested it so let me know what ya'll think. Am I making him too soft? I can always write him a bit more psycho lol. Post again soon, XOXOXOXOXOOXOXXO

#writing #feyd x you #feyd imagine #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune part two #harkonnen

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lu-is-not-ok · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! Just wanted to say that I've been reading your posts and analyses for awhile now, and I really enjoy them! So, I also thought of sharing a sort of theory of mine, bc I'm very interested in hearing what you might think about it.

For starters, these lines from Jia Xichun are very intriguing:

«No amount of pain could wake it from... whatever this dazed state it's in. As you can see...»

«... it must've been long driven mad from pain. Reminds you of the tricks from back home that could induce such an effect, doesn't it? Big brother.»

For two reasons. 1. This is the first time (iirc) in the story where Hong Lu doesn't reply and stays silent and seemingly uneasy; 2. The fact that this "dazed state" as it is described actually kind of reminds of Hong Lu's usual behavior a bit?

To elaborate, after her lines the attention was drawn back to the Priest, and his face was described as "serene". And who's facial expression was also described in a similar manner, precisely, with a literal synonym? Of course, Hong Lu, during the TKT Intervallo:

«The culprit wasn't the only one who suddenly began to behave strangely. Hong Lu did, too.»

«His face relaxed into a tranquil look, as though he was ready to let something go.

... Or perhaps... that was an express of liberation.»

And also to mention how the Priest started reminiscing similarly to how Hong Lu tells stories about his family (but idk, I'm afraid I am starting to reach even harder for this😭)

All in all, my theory, if you can call it that, is that perhaps those "tricks from back home" where actually performed on Hong Lu. This could potentially explain his constant aloofness, his reaction to Xichun's words (she brought up some of his traumatic memories?), and why exactly he has one of the most deranged IDs — because he has already been long driven mad from pain.

I really hope I worded this well enough, and I don't know if I sound like a lunatic or if I actually cooked something when I was thinking abt this at 2 am. And well, I'm also probably not the first one to think of this. But anyways, still thought this is worth bringing up!

Well, I hope you enjoy the Xichun Sin Analysis I just posted earlier then! That being said, there is something interesting I want to bring up with regards to this theory you pose, as it's tangentially related to the bits you reference and also it's been sitting in my head for a while now.

First point - I definitely agree that when Xichun brings up the "tricks" that can leave people in a similar state to the Priest, it's something Hong Lu has experienced himself.

We see Hong Lu has a tendency to avoid topics that bother him at all cost, like how he actively tries to redirect conversations in Hell's Chicken when he's being questioned regarding what he thinks could lead him into Distorting and when he senses Meursault is about to verbally lay into him. It's a tactic he employs very often as a distraction from the weirder things he says.

Interestingly enough, I believe Canto 7 is the first time we see Hong Lu avoid topics not through redirection, but through shutting down. That interaction you brought up isn't the first time in the Canto that he's rendered speechless either. In part 1, he's shown to respond with silence when both Rodya and Sinclair comment on their dislike of Xichun, being seemingly uncomfortable with the way they're talking about her.

And then there's a scene even earlier on in Part 1 that left a really, really major impression on me. Which. I can talk about now!

This, I believe, is the first time in Canto 7 where we see Hong Lu properly shut down in response to something. Something about what Xichun has said made him completely stop what he was doing earlier. His entire approach to the conversation changes in this moment. Earlier on he was excitedly asking questions, trying to give advice and gather information, but after this moment, Hong Lu is rendered completely passive, his lines being reduced to only responding to Xichun is saying in a very... honestly weird way.

It's not obvious in the transcript by itself, but his tone is... odd, compared to the way he was speaking earlier. In addition to that, every expression Hong Lu has during this conversation after this point are ones that actively have him not looking at Xichun, either using his closed eyes sprite or looking to the side sprite.

This moment struck me very, very heavily the first time I got to it in my plathrough. Part of it is because of the weird unnatural shift Hong Lu's behavior takes in this moment that I wasn't even consciously noticing until a reread. The other part is that the exact words Xichun says to Hong Lu that triggers this are ones that reminded me of something very specific in Dream of the Red Chamber.

There is a chapter fairly early on in Hong Lu's source novel that I can only describe as Bao-yu being verbally and emotionally abused by his father for the entire chapter. His father takes Bao-yu along as he shows off his garden to his acquaintances, and every time Bao-yu speaks up, whether by being prompted to or on his own, his father chastises him excessively. I don't remember the exact words, but the framing is pretty clear about the fact that Bao-yu's father sees his son's behavior as being a source of embarassment to himself in front of his acquaintances.

The kind of abuse shown in that chapter is downright stomach-churning in how realistically it is potrayed. It's genuinely upsetting and one of the main reasons I was unable to continue reading much further past that point.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Project Moon decided the thing that made Hong Lu have a shift in his behavior was being told him being himself is a cause of embarassment for someone else in his family. ...And I think Xichun's immediate reaction shows she realizes what is happening as well. It's very telling she doesn't bring up Hong Lu 'not getting better since the last time they've met' until this moment.

Because I don't think the thing he hasn't gotten better from is his upbeat, naive attitude. I believe it's his trauma response he's exhibiting right here. To become passive, downright submissive, and simply take everything that's being dealt to him without objections.

...Which segues nicely into the second point! Because the 'serene daze' shown on the Priest? The tranquility and peace Hong Lu exhibits in TKT, which is outright called out as strange by Dante? I believe it's the exact same as the trauma response I highlighted earlier. It's the immediate instinct to just lay down and take the pain because trying to fight back would only prolong the suffering.

The line about that expression being potentially "an express of liberation" is very telling. On the one hand, this Canto only further cements the fact that Hong Lu is just as passively suicidal as Yi Sang was before going through Canto 4. On the other, it directly ties back to Hong Lu potentially believing that the less resistance he shows, the sooner he'll be freed from suffering.

I already briefly went insane over the following line in a seperate post, but it feels extremely important to bring it up in here as well.

This line. This. Fucking. Line. Directly creates parallels between Oblivion and Naivete, drawing parallels between Donqui/Sancho and Hong Lu. And it's not that hard to see why.

We see that Donqui/Sancho's choice to embrace Oblivion, to completely try and erase her former identity and fall into a dream is motivated by her wishing to escape her reality, to stop thinking about the bloodshed and violence.

This line, and what we see of how Hong Lu acts throughout this Canto, is making it clear that Hong Lu's naive attitude, his constant willingness to assume the best of everyone around him, is just another part of his trauma response I've pointed out earlier.

It's how he escapes the violence he's been subjected to, the reality he's been living in. After all, the explanation he gives for why he wasn't afraid when the Time Killer tried to kill him... is because he understands why people want to hurt him. He didn't fight back when his siblings tried to kill him, because he knew why they would want to do that.

Because he tries to assume the best of everyone, tries to understand the reasons they do what they do, tries to be naively innocent, he's able to accept the pain and let it happen. Because if he can't, if he's forced to face none of what was done to him was justified... Well...

...This is where I would like to jump off and go on a tangent about my own theory. You see, you bring up the story the Priest starts telling to compare it to how Hong Lu acts with his anecdotes, but I think there's something much deeper going on with that story. Look at how the Priest begins it.

It's very clear the story he's telling is him directly comparing someone among the Sinners to Lorenzo, the Bloodfiend he's talking about. Dante's narration doesn't specify who the Priest means, as they only mentioned that "He looked at us", but it's clear from his words that he means a Single Specific Person here.

On my initial readthrough I assumed this was about Donqui, as this is her Canto after all, but... I no longer believe that's the case. In fact, I believe that the Sinner being used as a parallel to Lorenzo here is Hong Lu.

Let me give my evidence first.

One - We know the Priest, even in his daze, still recognizes Donqui as Sancho. The way he ends off his story says as much.

It's clear from his words and his actions that he's actively blaming Sancho for what happened to Lorenzo, and what he believes has happened to Cassetti as well. This would align with the feelings all of the named Kindreds we mett express towards her. So, to me at least, it's clear that the Priest wouldn't compare Sancho to Lorenzo in a way he has here.

Two - The framing of the scene and what follows later puts a lot of focus on Hong Lu.

Hong Lu is extremely present during this scene. Not only is the Priest compelled to share the story right after we see Hong Lu shut down at what Xichun has said, but the CG that follows his story inexplicably includes Hong Lu in it, listening intently.

And not only that, but soon after the Priest is taken away and Sansón tells another story, we get the moment of Donqui telling Dante she thinks it's Hong Lu's turn in the Golden Bough horrors.

If this were a game made by anyone else, I would take this as a self-aware joke pointing fun at how much focus Hong Lu has gotten in a Canto that's not his and move on. But this isn't anyone else.

This is Project Moon, who have a very Notable Track Record of hiding extremely important reveals and foreshadowing in one-off lines during comedic moments, especially in Limbus. See Canto 2 and Hell's Chicken. I genuinely believe the reason this joke exists here is to draw our attention not only to the parallels between Donqui/Sancho and Hong Lu, but also to the moments where Hong Lu is already the focus.

Three - The phrasing the Priest uses to refer to whoever he's comparing to Lorenzo.

The way he addresses this person and the rest of the group is very interesting, as there's emphasis put on his choice of the word "friends" to describe them. This feels important, as earlier on, in Part 1, Hong Lu himself denies Xichun's assessment that the Sinners are his faction, deliberately calling them his friends. Just like here the Priest calls the people accompanying the one he's directing the story at their friends.

So... what does that all mean for Hong Lu to be directly compared to Lorenzo? Well, let's take a quick look at what Lorenzo's story is.

Lorenzo is initially described as a Bloodfiend filled with positivity, to the point that the Priest thinks he didn't have anything to actually confess for. We see him think the way he's able to eat so many hemobars in one sitting as impressive, seeming completely oblivious to the the fact it's a clear sign the hemobars do nothing for Bloodfiends nutritionally.

This attitude completely changes however after Lorenzo tastes blood for the first time. He completely loses himself to obsession, spending hours licking a syringe just to be able to taste it. He completely loses his hope in the hemobars, having the drastic realization they do nothing, and lamenting how much longer he has to keep on living like this.

The story ends with the Priest remarking that after that shift, the only time he had seen Lorenzo genuinely happy was when he was about to be buried alive, when his head and brain were already completely decimated to the point he should be dead.

This... is already a lot.

Lorenzo's initial attitude, his positivity and naive belief that the hemobars are good despite the evidence to the contrary, are extremely close to how Hong Lu is right now. Upbeat, oblivious, always assuming the best of others. Hong Lu's passively suicidal tendencies could also track to Lorenzo's ending, how it's clear that Hong Lu is extremely willing to accept his own death.

...And then there's the whole middle of that story. There's a lot of different things this could be foreshadowing for Hong Lu's arc, but one thing is clear - he's not going to stay his upbeat self forever.

Every hint we've had about Hong Lu thus far. The implication he knows there's something that could make him distort all the way back in Hell's Chicken. The way we're told this Canto that Hong Lu's eye is dimming right after he comments how Donqui's twinkling eyes show she's "lucid", or living completely detached from reality. And then this, him being directly compared to a story of a Bloodfiend who upon finally being hit with reality begins to spiral and completely lose all his hope.

It all points to the idea that Hong lu will be forced to face his reality. To understand that his hemobars do jack shit and always have, that perhaps his family have never truly cared for him. And that realization could very well be the thing that finally breaks him.

I mean, his IDs already point to it, no? After all, Fanghunt Lu, possibly the most violent and deranged Hong Lu ID released thus far, one released alongside this part mind you, is shown to be actively thinking about and doubting the nature of family. "What even is a real family, I wonder?"

I'm just saying, if there's any Sinner who deserves to go utterly apeshit in their Canto, it would be Hong Lu. Let. My guy. Break Everything.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu lcb #canto 7 part 2 #canto 7 spoilers #canto 7 part 2 spoilers #lcb analysis #lcb speculation #im soooo normal

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