#franky and his unwavering attention and reaction

[hellaspirateship]

So much can be said about luffy couldnt fit in n the tags

but like I agree so much

so much so much

I adore Monkey D. Luffy as a protagonist so much, it's not even funny. He is such a wonderfully written character that fully shattered all of my expectations of him when I first started the series 6ish months back (shoutout to the live action series for actually being good and getting me to take that jump).

Like, the main thing holding me back from the series wasn't even the episode/chapter count, I powered through shit like Supernatural and Doctor Who as a kid, long series don't intimidate me all that much. What did stop me from watching it was my assumption that Luffy was going to be a 'typical' Shonen protag, whose main character trait would be being really strong and not much else. I was expecting him to be a flat audience stand in that the young teen boy demographic it was originally aimed for could project their power fantasies onto. I was expecting a stereotypical hero's journey paired with an everyman protagonist.

Which is why when when that trope was completely subverted in the first chapter of the magna/when we learn about his first backstory in general, I was pleasantly surprised. Shanks doesn't take Luffy under his wing, isn't the person who brings Luffy into the world of pirates, Luffy is the one who sets off alone after Shanks refuses to take him, leaving Luffy to his devices to pursue his dreams.

An issue I have with the hero's journey is that it feels formulaic to the point of robbing the MC of agency (obviously not all stories that follow the hero's journey do this, it's just a semi-common pattern I've noticed) . The mentor figure brings the protag into the strange new world, often times without the protag knowing anything about the new world they are entering, and in many cases, did not actively choose to enter. Which is why having a protagonist like Luffy, who is very active in his own story, who decides for himself to be a pirate, and who has strong and consistent characterization to explain his decisions and actions is so nice to see.

A small, silly little moment that really exemplifies this for me is real early on when it's just Luffy and Zoro in the little dingy, and Luffy attempts to catch that bird and instead gets carried off by it to Orange Town. Like, it was obviously a plot device to get the Luffy and Zoro from point A to point B, but instead of having the bird swoop down and snatch up Luffy, making him passive in that moment, Oda has Luffy be the one to engage with the bird first. It's such a small detail, but really stands out to me as an early example of Luffy's decisions directly leading plot advancement.

Anyways, love Luffy. He is my favorite chaotic little gremlin who will now forever be bouncing around in my head like a game of Pong.

[hyunjin-amore]

Strawhats react to S/o giving them kisses

Luffy

Luffy might not be used to getting kisses from people, so his initial reaction would probably be one of surprise and bewilderment. But since he's an adventurous and fun-loving guy, he would probably reply with a mix of joy and laughter. He might give you a big hug or playfully return the kisses. Given Luffy's reputation for being carefree and impulsive, he would be happy to receive the affection and relish the occasion.

Zoro

If his significant other started kissing him, Zoro would probably react with a mix of surprise and nervousness. He might not be accustomed to or anticipate such loving gestures because he is a somber and serious character. On the other hand, he would secretly value his S/O's love and attention. At first, he might try to ignore it or appear indifferent, but a tiny blush or smile could be visible on his face. All in all, even though he might not verbally thank you, his sweetie's kisses would undoubtedly have an effect on him.

Sanji

Sanji's response would be significantly different from Zoro's. Given his reputation for flirting and his unwavering quest for love and affection, Sanji would be ecstatic to receive kisses from his significant other. He would probably be ecstatic and express his gratitude honestly, grinning broadly and perhaps even displaying some tearful reactions. Sanji would probably tell his sweetie how fortunate he is to have such a caring and loving partner while complimenting her. He would feel loved and appreciated by the kisses, and he would probably reciprocate with more kisses and tender gestures.

Franky

 

Given his exuberant nature and fondness for ostentatious and ostentatious things, Franky would undoubtedly react enthusiastically if his partner planted kisses on him. It would probably take him a while to realize what was going on, but then his signature smile would appear on his face. In response, Franky would react with a mixture of surprise, joy, and a hint of his signature "SUPER" excitement. He may even flex his muscles or strike a pose to express how much he appreciates the affection. Franky would probably give his S/O bear hugs and maybe even a few playful kisses in return, kissing them with the same intensity.  All in all, Franky would be overjoyed and would interpret this show of affection as evidence of his close relationship with his partner.

Nami

Given her reputation for practicality and financial acumen, Nami might be surprised at first when her partner plants kisses on her. She may be a little doubtful or even suspicious, wondering if the show of affection is being made for a different reason. But her attitude would soften as she began to understand that it was a sincere and heartfelt gesture.

Nami would probably react in a way that was both surprising and grateful. She may blush or smile shyly, expressing her love in a more subdued manner. Even though Nami isn't as ostentatious or showy as some of the other members of the Straw Hat crew, she would undoubtedly value the consideration and care that went into the gift.

Nami could show her appreciation in a pragmatic manner by providing something in exchange, such as surprising her partner with a special dinner or doing something kind for them. Even though Nami might not be very touchy-feely or affectionate, she would know how important it is to return the favors. In the end, she would strengthen her relationship with her partner and interpret it as a sign of trust.

Robin

As the cool-headed archaeologist on the Straw Hat team, Robin would probably respond to her partner kissing her in a calm and considerate way. She would be thoughtful and mature in her response, and she would appreciate the loving gesture.

Robin would probably give you a warm smile and maybe a gentle touch in return for your kisses. She would thank her partner for their affection and cherish the closeness and connection they shared. Given her reputation for intelligence and analysis, Robin might also pause to watch her partner's actions, attempting to decipher the motivations and feelings that underlie the gesture.

Even though she wouldn't say it out loud, Robin would show her gratitude with her words and deeds. She could give her partner a heartfelt thank you or communicate her emotions in a cool, collected manner. Robin would be able to appreciate the importance of the situation and her partner's faith in her, strengthening their relationship.

All things considered, Robin's answer would be considerate and genuine, demonstrating her depth of feeling and comprehension of her partner's loving gesture.

Usopp

The bold and creative sniper of the Straw Hat team, Usopp, would react more animatedly if his sweetheart planted a kiss on him. Recognized for his theatrical demeanor and exaggerated facial expressions, Usopp would probably be surprised by the gesture of affection but would probably end up being delighted.

When his partner planted a kiss on him, Usopp would look wide-eyed and shocked at first. He might even make funny gestures with his arms or trip over his words. But as the shock wears off, a broad smile appears on his face, showing how happy he really is.

Usopp wouldn't think twice about showing his partner how happy and appreciative he is of their affection. He may give a hearty applause or perhaps start to jump up and down. Usopp is well known for inflating tales and feelings, so he would show his significant other a lot of love and praise.

Usopp may even feign being overcome by the kisses, swooning dramatically or playfully acting as though he's weak in the knees, all in his trademark exaggerated style. His partner would feel valued and loved by his lively and playful response.

All things considered, Usopp would be ecstatic to receive a kiss from his significant other, and his trademark humor would be present as well. He would take advantage of the chance to show his partner how much he cared in a lighthearted and entertaining way, making the moment enjoyable and unforgettable for both of them.

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 9. New Allies

First | Previous | Next

The last chapter and this one are a little more filler so they got posted on the same day. Please don’t expect this in future

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

You snuck back into the medbay, thankfully not running into anyone in the hallway. When your head hit the pillow, Laura sat up and struck a match, illuminating her in an almost menacing light.

“You were gone a while” she spoke, light a nearby candle with the match.

“uhh…I had to shit.” you said matter of factly.

“For two hours.” she shot back.

“...’The fuck you care for”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N” Laura snapped. “You really expect Carol to believe you were shitting for two hours”

“How’d she know?” you propped yourself up on your side.

“She visited while you were gone. Twice. So why don’t you tell me the truth so I can pass it on”

“Tell her whatever you want.” You flopped around to your other side. You felt a weight on the bed and Laura’s breath behind you.

“Should I tell her your Negan’s brat.” she whispered so only you’d hear. Your eyes shot open.

“How long.” You whispered

“Not many people here named Y/N.” she explained in a low voice, not moving away from you “And even fewer who hide from the grou-” you cut her off with the hunting knife, one hand holding the blade against her neck and the other going around to hold her neck in place. Laura froze, but didn’t seem alarmed.

“How many know I’m here?”

“Just me. I don’t think that many knew Negan had a daughter. Though it wouldn’t take much to change that.” her voice was unwavering as she spoke. “Now move the fucking knife.”

You sized up your options. She could be lying and waiting to kill you. Then again what reason would she have to lie since you didn’t have any immediate worth with your old man locked up. Ultimately, slitting her throat would cause a problem since you didn’t have clear means to dump the body or escape. You pulled back the knife and released your grip on her.

Laura sat on her bed with a heavy sigh, and you sat up.

“So what am I telling her?”

“I went up a few floors. I wanted to look out past the walls to find an escape route.” You handed Laura the knife with your name on it. “I found this. Might be better with you than some rebellious asshole with ideas”

“Found the memorial, huh.” she took it and threw it in the bedside drawer. “Negan built it, thinking his daughter had died.” Laura spoke louder now, possibly considering someone might be listening? You nodded to show you were listening. “So when he was no longer king of the castle we left it be. Seemed wrong to wreck it.”

You leaned over to Laura and whispered “I found the Negan supporters.”

“How many?” Carol asked.

You had come to her with what you’d found. Well Laura did but she did say you’d found them while looking for an escape. They must’ve found it commendable that you hadn’t run or joined them so you were now privy to this little meeting between Carol, Laura, Yourself, and the messenger from before that you learned was named John and had a wife, Tonya, and a young son.

“About four.” You replied

“about?” John jumped in, “What do you mean about”

“I didn’t exactly see them.” you cut back.

“So what do we do?” Laura looked to Carol. “Kill them?”

“God no” Carol replied. “Last thing we need is a few martyrs.”

“We catch them” John said. “We’re tryna do a society. We catch them in the act, charge them for fueling unrest. You said they were planning something”

“Talk about who’d be on their side and how they can get weapons.” you explained “They don’t like you” you said, nodding towards Carol

“I don’t expect them too.” Carol spoke plainly “We’re gonna need more people with us, and a place to put them.”

John and Laura were able to name some people who have interest in keeping the sanctuary Negan free and the meeting ended with a simple plan. Someone would spend the nights on the same floor as the meeting place, in a room directly above where the medbay was located with a large rock with a handkerchief wrapped around it. If the traitors showed up they’d drop the rock out the window and the others would know to come upstairs and catch them in the act of conspiracy. The nights went on shift schedule so as to deter suspicion of what they were doing.

As luck would have it, the night they arrived you had been on watch. They had strolled along the hallway talking loudly about how shitty Carol was. While you were inclined to agree to some extent, your interest was in living. You huffed as you moved the rock towards the broken window, it crackin some broken glass as it rolled, and sent it down.

As the rock went you were violently yanked back and thrown against a wall.

“Well shit. Hello princess” a woman’s voice spoke mockingly.

A leg kicked into your ribs. You grabbed the back of your assailants knee and pushed your weight forward, sending them flying backwards. You leapt up their body and started punching, stopping after two good hits when you realised who it was.

Under you with a bruised lip was one of your father’s wives. Frankie, to be specific. She took advantage of your pause and pushed you off. She lunged at you, swinging her fist but you pushed against her and used the momentum to get back on your feet, staggering back.

“You don’t wanna do this” you warned. This seemed to set her off and she jumped up at you, swinging at you. She grabbed you by the hair and started punching into your gut. You grit your teeth and grab the wrist of the hand in your hair then pushed your weight into her, sending you both across the hall and into the door of another room. The door fell off it’s rusted hinges and you both fell to the ground.

Frankie’s hold on your hair didn’t release, even as she lay with her back on the ground and you were above her with your back to her, sending your elbow back violently into her abdomen. One particularly good swing and she finally let go.

You scrambled away and used the empty door frame to get back up. “Stop it!” you yelled.

“No!” Frankie shouted back. “You don’t get it. I have to!” she charged at you and you were both back in the other room, with you on your back and Frankie on top, trying desperately to choke you out. “I have to try. If I won’t he’ll kill me.” she growled.

You slammed your fists against her in a wasted effort. In the corner of your eye you seen some old shattered glass. In a quick motion you grabbed the piece and stuck it into her cheek. Startled, She released you and went to her cheek. You pulled in a breath, held it, and shoved her off you. You sat up and punched her, your hand scratching off the glass. You lunged and managed to pin her down by sitting on her shoulders.

Frankie’s mouth was now grotesque and full of blood, you held her hair in an iron grip, keeping her face sideways so the glass couldn’t go any further and to let the blood flow out.

“Sorry about this” you whispered before pulling the glass out. She screamed and cursed at you. “I had to before it broke off in your mouth.” She chortled at that through gurgled blood

“Since when do you give a fuck” she spat, though it was garbled and hard to decipher. In that moment you could see past all that bravado and right into her fear.

“Holy shit” A man’s voice came behind you. John and Laura were with you. John helped you up while Laura replaced you in holding down Frankie.

Moments later you were back in the medbay, stitching up Frankie’s cheek from the inside. Carol looked over with a stern gaze. Once you finished up the inside you put your attention on Carol.

“She’s not gonna be able to talk with her mouth like this so any idea you had of an interrogation you can scrap.” You spoke sternly, going over to the basin to wash your hands in preparation of the next round of stitches.

“She had no problem cursing us out on our way down here” Carol interjected. You stepped between Carol and Frankie.

“She’s running on pure adrenaline, which I’m gonna need to finish her stitches.” you said firmly. “And when I’m done she’s gonna swell up and won��t be talking through that pain. Leave it for tonight.”

“I know your a doctor bu-” Carol began

“Leave. It.” You ordered, staring her down. She stared right back. In that moment you felt like a kitten staring down a lioness, but in this moment you had to get Carol and the others away.

As far as you knew, Frankie hadn’t said anything about you. Yet.

Carol bit her tongue and subsided. “Fine.” It was set up that she would be restrained in a bed, and you and Laura would look over her.

You sat in a chair, looking at Frankie in the candle light. Frankie stared back at you, unwavering. She looked completely exhausted, yet strong, despite the tear streaks going down her face from the agony she was in. Laura arrived back shortly, with a pen and a near-empty refill pad.

“Here” she said, passing you the pad. “You owe me.” she went around and stood over Frankie’s bed. “You write with your left or right hand?”

Laura’s question was met with silence. Laura looked back at you for aid. You stood up and walked to the opposite side of the bed, putting the pad and pen by Frankie’s feet.

“It’s either you talk to me or Carol, and she’s not gonna be half as forgiving, Frankie.” you spoke softly, trying to seem empathetic. “Who are you meeting with?” you asked. Frankie looked at the ceiling in silent protest.

“How many want Negan back?” you pressed. She remained silent

“How long have you been meeting?” she held her quiet

Laura pulled back her hand to slap Frankie, but you jumped up to stop. You ushered her out of the room. She stood there for a moment, only leaving the room when you said to go. You leaned closer to Frankie.

“When you said he’d kill you,” you began, her eyes momentarily darted to you then back to the ceiling. “Did you mean Negan?” Her jaw stiffened and her breath stifled. “You think he’s gonna come back and if you don’t show that you wanted him back, you’ll suffer.” She was looking at you now, hanging on your every word.

‘So it’s survival’ you thought ‘I can get behind that’ you reached down and grabbed the refill pad. “What if I could make it that you weren’t here. Get you out of sanctuary completely.”

“Why?” she croaked, her mouth barely opening and sounding more like a gasp then a person talking.

“I wanna be out of here too.” you said. “All you gotta do is tell us who Negan's supporters are...and keep quiet about who I am. And I swear I will make it happen.” you spoke with conviction. The same type of conviction that once made everyone follow your father. Though in this moment, you sounded more sincere to Frankie then your father had ever been. She nodded, and you called Laura back in just as daylight began to break to take Frankie’s statement.

Your spat with Frankie had worked in favour of Carol. A story of how Negan’s supporters attacked Frankie for not working with them and you bravely coming to her defence was latched onto, and Carol was praised for fairly dealing with such violent individuals. While the remnants of the saviours still weren’t that happy with Carol, they were making far less trouble for her now. The confession that followed also did well to guarantee your transfer to the bridge team.

“Is there nothing I can do to make you stay?” Carol said as you packed up.

“Nope,” you said as you packed. “The bridge is being built mostly by our people, so I should be there to patch them up.” you loaded some last supplies into your bag. “And a friendly stranger would be better to negotiate scar-face’s transfer to another settlement.” you jest, nodding towards Frankie, who silently flipped you off. She had healed up rather well in the week that followed the incident, but the nickname was there to stay it seemed. Carol smiled sweetly at you. “What?”

“You said ‘our people’.” Carol said. Your mouth hung open for a moment, babbling for an excuse. Carol shushed you gently. “Just accept it Y/N.”

“Come on!” Laura hollered. “Daylight’s burning people.”

The three of you took off with bags full of food for the journey, a tent for their camp, and a few medical supplies, mainly bandages, clamps, and sutures.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak​ @aestthete