#i miss my tears for fears era

[onemorecupofcoffee]

happy (late) anniversary to songs from the big chair!!

[writingsofwesteros]

#Dragon Belongs To Drone

Omg I absolutely adore this anon au! I was wondering if you could make a little mini drabble about them. If not it’s ok, I understand! Xxxx

It would be about the princess giving birth to their last baby and they’re finally blessed with a little boy, a mini aegon <3. I can just imagine with the way all the babies are close to their parents, especially their papa, they’re are there with them in birthing room all bursting with excitement waiting for their new baby. Meanwhile, their poor papa is stressed never getting use to labor process.

At least now that that’s their last baby they can go back to their paramours;). They love sharing their bed with their baby’s but they miss their pre-kids sex era!!!

AN:Hi I hope you like it x

Even after all this time, Aegon still became nervous. The idea of his wife in the birthing bed nearly overwhelmed him with fear. He remembered the first time; the Prince remembered his mother’s stories of how his father did not come into the room and Aegon thought that was normal. He had only made such a mistake once. The lovers he and the Princess shared had taken him to one side all those years ago to explain it all. Gods, he had been stupid but he had learnt from his lessons, which is what brought him to his wife’s side. Gently, he reached for her hand; those big eyes of his full of worry. “This is your fault.” The Princess whined; arching in pain as the labours only continued.

“I know,” Aegon hummed and pressed a soft kiss to her hand as he bowed his head. The Gods of his mother came to mind as he silently prayed; not that he would ever admit such a thing. He wished he could take her pain away. The words of the maids surrounding them fell on deaf ears as Aegon watched over his love. "But you're strong. You've always been strong." He kissed her damp forehead, feeling the heat of her struggle. “Your grace, please…” A soft frown of confusion came over his face before realising they were asking for more space and he as ever was crowding. He bowed but those bright eyes of his never left his darling Princess. His hands move behind his back, tearing at those nails. Aegon thought that habit had left him years ago. 

His heart was pounding in his ears; deafening him to the wines of pain escaping his wife. The birthing was lasting longer than usual, which only brought more worry onto Aegon. The sharp, new cry entering the room had Aegon’s attention as he moved to stand; it was only then that he realised he had even sat down. “Oh..it’s a boy.” The maid gasped out as Aegon nearly stumbled forward; his body not moving quickly enough for him. “A boy?” The Prince whispered out; shock was evident in his tone as he stepped forward. The Princess slowly regained her strength as the nurses steadied her. She was soon leaning against the headboard; catching her breath.

The soft crying of the babe continued to fill the chambers as Aegon only watched on in awe. His wife was as strong as ever and their sweet daughters had followed her in that. Gods, what would his son find in him? There was nothing of worth, Aegon knew that. “My husband should hold him,” The Princess whispered out breathlessly. The Prince hardly had a moment to shake his head in disagreement before the soft, familiar weight of a babe was in his arms. It took him longer than needed to duck his head; his bright eyes finally seeing his boy for the first time. Aegon gently stroked the top of the babe’s head as he noticed the bright locks just like his own. 

"He looks just like you," the Princess murmured, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Aegon could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak. The babe's crying began to quiet, as if he, too, was recognizing the safety and warmth of his father's embrace. His little fist gripped at Aegon’s finger so tightly. "He's perfect," he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Unlike himself, the Prince thought as his self loathing began to return to him. Aegon was in his own world, gently rocking the new babe in his arms and he could not stop the soft smile tugging on his lips. The Princess could only watch on with complete softness and love in her eyes.

It seemed the new addition to the family would be well used to the loudness of his sisters as the large, wooden door slammed opened. Loudly, it moved against the marble wall and Aegon watched as his young son hardly stirred in his hold. “We have a brother?” Aegon’s youngest girl called out; voice full of excitement as the little patter of feet continued into the room. His eldest, a bright-eyed girl with her mother’s fierce spirit, approached first, peering at the baby with wide eyes. “He’s so tiny,” she whispered in awe, reaching out a tentative finger to touch her brother’s hand. Aegon slowly lowered his son as he introduced him. A soft smile came over his face as he noted his middle girl had raced to her mother’s side; face full of worry. 

Aegon slowly guided his eldest towards the large chair; the soft summer air moving into the chambers now as the peaceful moment only continued. “Do you want to hold him?” He gently asked; staring down at his son once more as the Princess settled in bed. Her daughter softly sat at her side and took her hand; playing with her fingers like her father did. “Yes please, father..” She hummed happily; moving herself to rest against the chair as Aegon slowly lowered his babe onto her lap. His hand rested behind the boy’s head as the Prince continued to hover. “I can do it.” Aegon chuckled at his daughter’s eagerness and stepped away. His eyes never leave the sight in front of him.

Looking over his shoulder once more, Aegon began to make his way towards the bed. His hand reached for the goblet of water without thought. Gently, the Prince squeezed his wife’s hand as he fought against the worry inside him with his daughters in the room. He could not let them notice the stress rising. “I am well, my love.” As ever, it seemed she could read him just as she could the very first day they met. “Mama is strong.” He chuckled at his daughter’s words as Aegon lent in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Just like you.” She only giggled out; burrowing into his neck before wrapping her arms around his waist. He reached for his wife and softly brushed a lock of her hair from out of her face.

“Father, will we have another brother?” He heard his oldest call from the other side of the room; the babe in her arms fussing quietly. “Oh, that is for your mother to decide.” Aegon chuckled as he settled beside his wife in the bed; bringing his daughter into his lap to wrap his arms around her.

[whimsicalpolitical]

He’s begging babe stay, stay, stay- Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: self titled era has a special place in my heart and I wanted to write a proper story regarding this era. Sorry if it’s shit and it feels like it’s very long.

content warning: maybe a bit angsty? fluff, smut, 18+ MDNI, p in v, dry humping, fingering, praise, dirty talk

It’s a shit day. All you have done until now is count the hours until your brother Ross is leaving to go on tour with his band.

The past days the boys were at your house just hanging around, smoking and to practice in your garage. You know because you spent time in the living room, pretending to work when all you’ve done is watch him or listen to his voice.

Matty's voice, raw and magnetic, cut through the music. Every time he sang, it felt like the world around you blurred, leaving only his voice in sharp focus.

Some times in their breaks you prayed that he would leave the garage to get a drink and when he did you felt giddy, like a nervous school girl.

Your eyes followed his every move. His black skinny jeans clinging to his body, the black shirt and leather jacket matching his persona. He’s just so attractive.

You’re grateful that Ross is part of the band. The past years have been a blessing because you could innocently see Matty and be around him without it being weird.

Your heart started racing when he entered the room, most of the times it was the middle of the night and you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed cheeks. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was futile. The mere thought of him noticing you made you feel like a bundle of nerves. You had been around these boys all your life, but Matty—Matty was different.

You’re dreading the moment he leaves the house for good..

21:18- You’re sitting on the porch trying to smoke the thoughts away but every drag hurts your lung immensely.

They’re playing ‘you’ right now and you can’t help but close your eyes to the muffled music. You really will cry to the end. Cry until there’s no tears left. Maybe it’s over the top because you can’t even hold eye contact with Matty and he would never fall for you.

You’re very aware of the many different girls he had or has. And you, you had your first kiss a month ago with some football player because you tried to forget about him but you just can’t.

The reality of their imminent departure is settling in. The garage is alive with music, but you feel the weight of the upcoming silence. You will miss Ross, of course. His absence will leave a void in the house, but Matty's absence will leave a void in your heart.

You take another drag, the smoke burning your throat. The stars above are a blur through your tears. You wish you can be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection is paralyzing. You would rather suffer in silence than risk the delicate balance of your current reality.

As the song changes to ‘robbers’, you let yourself sink into the music. The lyrics feel like they are written for you, capturing the longing and the heartache you can’t express. Tomorrow, they will be gone, and you will be left with nothing but memories and unspoken words.

You exhale slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air. The porch light flicker, casting fleeting shadows. The night is as restless as you are, and the loneliness is beginning to set in. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the cold concrete against your skin, and let the tears fall.

The music winds down, the final chords of hanging in the air like a whispered goodbye. You feel the silence settling in, heavy and inevitable. The garage door creaks open, and the boys' laughter floats out into the night, but it feels distant, like it belongs to another world. You crush the cigarette under your foot, watching the embers fade, a mirror to your fading hope.

You’re sitting there hugging your knees, covering your face and you can’t even hear footsteps approaching.

“D’you mind some company?”

This can’t be.

You look up, mascara completely ruined but you wipe your face with your sleeves. Matty is looking at you and his gaze drops, you think it’s almost a bit of worry.

“Shit,” he says, “sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting?”

“No no, it’s ok.” You say, pulling out another cigarette.

He nods as he leans against a wooden beam in your driveway, mirroring your movements by also lighting a cigarette.

The silence is sickening. You sure as hell won’t say anything because he caught you crying like a wimp in front of the door while they are playing their songs.

“S’ it Ross?” You think about how stupid the question is and you agree with Matty even though you want to say, ‘No, it's you.’

"Yeah," you lie, nodding. "It's Ross. Just gonna miss having him around."

Matty takes a drag, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "He'll be back, you know. It’s just a tour. He’ll come home."

You nod, the lie sitting heavy in your chest. "I know. It's just... different without him here."

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Yeah, it's always different when someone's gone. Makes you realize how much you take them for granted."

He’s looking at you. He’s seeing you. The way he looks at you makes your breath catch in your throat. There's an intensity in his gaze, a softness that you rarely see. It's like he's trying to understand, to reach out without words.

You wonder how he sees you. Here you are, sitting on the porch with ruined mascara, tears staining your cheeks, and your heart on display. It's embarrassing, and you feel exposed under his gaze. But there's something in the way he looks at you that makes you think he sees more than just the tears and the smudged makeup. Maybe he sees the vulnerability, the raw emotion that you've been trying to hide.

You want to tell him it's not just Ross. That the thought of him leaving is what's tearing you apart. But the words stick in your throat, and you just nod again, staring at the ground.

“Ross became my family as well,” he says softly, “means you’re family too and we all are going to miss you.”

Your heart aches at his words, knowing how much more they mean to you than they do to him. "Thanks, Matty.“

You wonder if it’s the last time you’ll say his name, how long it will take for you to say it again.

“How long until you leave here?” You ask hoping deep down he tells you they won’t leave at all.

“Planned on leaving at 2,” he tries to smile, “punctuality isn’t our strength as you may know.”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels hollow. "Yeah, I know."

He glances at his watch and then back at you. "It's not too late. We still have some time. You should come inside, hang out with us for a bit.”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit.” You want to be alone with him, and the thought of being in a room with the whole band right now feels overwhelming. So you decline, shaking your head gently.

He seems to understand, not pushing further. Instead, he surprises you by sitting down next to you on the porch steps. The proximity sends a rush of warmth through you, even in the cool night air.

"Y'know, I've always liked these quiet moments. Sometimes, it's nice to just... be.”

You nod, appreciating his words. "Yeah, it is.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, and you meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, a hint of something that feels almost like longing.

You notice Matty's smell—a mix of his cologne, a hint of leather from his jacket, and something distinctly him. It’s comforting and intoxicating, a scent you know you'll miss.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. "Do you ever think about what comes next?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the dim porch light. "Sometimes," he admits. "But it's hard to focus on the future when the present is so demanding."

You nod, understanding all too well. "I get that. But I mean, beyond the tours and the music. What do you see for yourself?"

He takes a deep breath, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess I hope for something more stable, something real. It's easy to get lost in the chaos, but I want to find something that grounds me." His eyes drop to your lips and if you would have blinked in that moment you would have missed it. “Someone who grounds me.”

“I understand,” you gulp, wanting to be the person.

“I think about it.” You frown, not knowing what he means. “What it would be like to settle down, find someone real.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “someone who just gets it. Would sort me out I think.”

“Maybe.” You could fucking punch yourself. You’re giving short ass answers but you’re scared to say more. You’re scared that if you reveal yourself it would be so much worse when he’s gone.

He leans back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Maybe it's not so far off, you know? Sometimes, the right person is closer than you think."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you look away, hoping he doesn't notice. But he does and he thinks it’s for the wrong reason.

“Do you have a person?” He asks.

“Don’t you think you would know, you’re here all the time.”

He chuckles and it might be your favorite sound. “Alright you’ve got a point there, love.”

Love. It’s a british thing but your heart still skips a beat, and a warmth spreads through your chest, melting away any lingering doubts or fears. The simple term of endearment feels like a promise, a glimpse of something more between you.

“Does it mean you still haven’t had your first kiss yet?” The question surprises you, he’s very forward and it makes you regret that you didn’t wait. Because maybe he could’ve been your first kiss.

“No I had my first kiss,” you say, “wasn’t anything serious though.”

“How was it?”

That’s the Matty you’re familiar with. Not the ‘romance talk’ kind of guy but the guy who has a shit eating grin on his face because he’s experienced and wants to know everything about the sex life of others.

“Not sure,” you cringe, “wasn’t how I imagined it.”

“How did you imagine it?”

“I didn’t imagine him slipping me tongue the second we kiss,” you groan at the memory and he laughs, “and he was just so violent, didn’t really feel good.”

He hums, stepping out the cigarette. “S’ a bummer, everyone should know how a good kiss feels.”

You don’t know what he’s hinting at because it would be dumb to assume he’s projecting the statement on to you.

“Not every guy is like that.” He says and your eyes find his again, “mate was bloody inexperienced.”

Matty is only 23 years old, three years older than you. Can’t be that much of a different between the guys.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a lot of experience either," you admit, feeling a bit exposed.

He gives you a sympathetic look, but there's a playful edge to it. "Experience isn't everything, love. It's about the connection, the moment. And trust me, when it's right, you'll know."

You do know. You know with him, you’re sure that you want to kiss him. You want to experience life with him, do everything.

“A good kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling anything but wanted.” He shifts closer, his thigh now next to yours.

You look at him, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Yeah?"

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah.”

You can feel the electricity in the air as Matty leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, longing. For years, you’ve harbored these feelings for him, tucking them away in the corners of your heart. He’s always been more than just your brother’s bandmate. He’s been the one who makes your pulse quicken, the one whose presence can light up your entire day.

You've watched him with other girls, feeling a pang of jealousy each time. You've imagined what it would be like to be the one he looks at with that mischievous grin, the one he holds close in the quiet moments. And now, here you are, on the brink of something you’ve dreamed about for so long.

Your thoughts are a jumble, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him so badly it aches. The desire has been building for years, a slow burn that has now become an overwhelming flame. The way he makes you feel—giddy, nervous, hopeful—no one else has ever come close. He’s the reason you find yourself smiling for no reason, the reason your heart feels too big for your chest sometimes.

You glance at his lips, and the anticipation makes your breath hitch. You’re nervous, of course you are—this is Matty, the guy you’ve loved from a distance for so long. But beneath the nerves, there’s a deeper, more insistent feeling: the need to finally close the gap, to feel his lips on yours and know what it’s like to be kissed by him.

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Matty, I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's alright, love. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Just tell me what you want." He gives you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want... I want to know what a good kiss feels like."

His smile widens, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well, I can help with that."

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to back away if you want. But you don't. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and warm against yours. There's no rush, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate exploration. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You relax into the kiss, feeling the spark, the connection. It's everything he said it would be—electric, grounding, and utterly unforgettable.

It's like every dream, every late-night fantasy you've ever had is coming to life in this single, perfect moment. His lips are warm and soft, moving gently against yours, and it feels as if time has stopped.

Your heart is racing, pounding so hard you're sure he must feel it too. There's a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, mingling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of joy. The kiss is tender, unhurried, and you can feel the care and attention he's giving to every movement. It's everything you imagined and more.

Years of unspoken longing, of watching him from afar and wishing for this very moment, flood through you. You've dreamed of this kiss, of being close to him like this, feeling his breath mix with yours. The reality of it surpasses every fantasy, every hopeful thought. The connection you feel is electric, a spark igniting between you that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands are gentle, one cupping your cheek, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sends shivers through your body, grounding you in this moment. The way he holds you feels protective, yet respectful, as if he's cradling something precious.

You almost whine when he pulls back.

“How’s that?” He asks, a soft murmur, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You don’t have any words. You have to concentrate that you won’t start crying because of all the things you felt while his lips were on yours.

“Where’s your mind gone, love?” He asks, lifting your chin, not even realizing that you dropped it. “Care to tell me?”

He stops and he puts his hand back to his own body. You’re scared now, that you’ve done something wrong, that you’re too innocent for him.

“Was the kiss shit?”

“No!” It comes out way too fast, “it was the opposite.”

You can tell he’s relieved but he still doesn’t know why you’re reacting this way.

“I just don’t- ugh,” you groan.

“Take your time.”

You would but the truth is you don’t have time.

“I don’t want it to end but I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me.” You admit and it’s a huge step for you.

“I think we have a lot to chat about hm?” He says and stands up. You don’t, you only stand up when he offers you his hand.

Matty’s hand reaches out, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. The contact is gentle yet firm, his touch sending a thrill through your body. Your fingers are cold from the night air, but his are warm, and the contrast makes you shiver slightly.

The warmth of his hand spreads through you, soothing the anxiety that had been knotting in your stomach. His fingers fit perfectly between yours, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. It feels so natural, so right, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand gently, as if to reassure yourself that this is real.

He smiles, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. "Your hands are freezing," he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand.

You laugh softly, the sound a little shaky. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly warm out here."

“Let me talk to the boys real quick, then we can go inside yeah?”

“Sure.” You don’t know what he’s going to say to them, if he’s going to tell them the truth about where he’s going and what he’s doing but on the other hand you don’t even know what he’s doing.

He’s leaving you on the doorstep and you already pull out your keys to open the door. When he comes back you embrace him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He's wearing that familiar smirk, his hair tousled, and you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks. There's a magnetism to him, a charm that draws you in

“Your room alright to talk?” He asks as you both go inside, where it is a lot warmer. The heat is getting to you and you feel a familiar tingly feeling in your stomach.

You don’t want to wait until you can talk or kiss again or feel him on you. You want to grab his arm and pull him against you and devour him whole. But you’re too shy to let him know.

“It’s straight down the hall,” you mumble, letting him lead you upstairs, his hands now intertwined with yours again.

22:30- And you’re in your room, sitting on the bed which is fucking exciting because Matty is sitting on your bed.

He’s getting rid of his jacket and throws it on a little chair next to your dest. He’s wearing a basic black shirt with a cutout, his tattoo on display for you.

“Talk to me, I want to know what’s on your mind, and clearly there’s a lot on your mind.” You both sit on the edge of the bed and after he’s gotten rid of his jacket he grabbed your hand again.

“I don’t know where to start,” you whisper truthfully.

Matty's hand tightens around yours, and you feel a rush of nerves as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and warmth, encouraging you to speak your mind.

“I don't know how to say this," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I've... I've liked you for a while now."

He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he says, his tone light.

You nod, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks. "Yeah. And I don't know... I don't know how to interpret the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

Matty lets out a soft laugh, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Why does anyone kiss anyone?" he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "Because they want to, I s’pose."

You can't help but scoff at his nonchalant response.

“You think too much, love.” He chuckles and grabs your chin to look at him. “I kissed you because I like you as well.”

“You do?” You ask.

This is all happening very fast and you doubt his words, not believing that he likes you.

As Matty's words sink in, you feel like you're floating in a dream. Did he really just say that he kissed you because he likes you too? The thought sends a rush of warmth through your entire being, and you can't help but let out a breathless laugh.

“I do,” he nods.

“Now what?”

“Up to you, love,” your head is pounding, the room is spinning, the kiss from earlier still in your head and you just want the feeling back.

You lean forward to kiss him again, your lips finding his and his hand on the back of your neck, making sure you won’t leave his your place. You can’t breathe which makes you gasp and matty slides his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t know that this can be hot, you go with the flow, letting your tongue brush against his in a steady rhythm. You’re getting hot, your skin is on fire and you’re sure he can feel it.

You’re panting more than Matty when you both pull back to breathe. Your pupils are already dilated and you’re ready for more. You’re never ready for anything but with Matty it just feels right.

“Can we just do this for a while?” You ask, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you’re going to ask him in a couple of minutes.

“Of course, love, it’s your pace we’re going for.” You smile at his answer but before you can kiss him again he speaks.

“Can you get on my lap, it’s more comfortable this way.” You blush but nod.

You waist no time to sit yourself fully on top of him, your legs on each side of his narrow hips. You stare at him through half lidded eyes, if you were a cartoon there would surely be hearts drawn all over them, as he captures your lips in a slow kiss. The two of you sigh and grunt into each other's mouths, moaning softly when hands met bare skin, pulling and squeezing all the right places. 

“Breathe, love, we’ve got time.”

“We don’t.”

You melt into the next kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. You feel him, he’s hard and you want to grind your hips but you have self control and you don’t know if that’s what you want.

He feels the same though, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time, wanting to undress you and show you how much you mean to him.

He finally lets his hands wander over your sides, under your shirt and you sigh into his mouth. You still need more. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, referring to your boobs and you nod.

His hands meet your waist, run over your tummy, and up to your breasts, palming them lightly, not quite the way you are expecting. You grab wherever you can get your hands on — his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer and closer — huffing when it’s getting too much, or too little.

The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel him. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.

“Need to tell me f’ you want something,” he says against your lips.

You hum, not saying anything but you roll your hips again, whimpering when the friction is perfect against your clothed pussy.

“Wait, love,” he makes you whine as he stills your hips. “Need to know what you’ve done.”

“Nothing more then kiss.” You say and he’s not even surprised anymore.

“Oh,” he groans, he’s fully turned on and he can’t believe it’s him who’s going to show you how perfect you can feel. “I don’t want to pressure you, I’m fine with kissing.”

“I’m not,” you interrupt, “please just do something.”

You’re begging and it drives him insane. “Alright alright, lay down for me, will you?”

You lay down on the bed and watch him get rid of his shirt, throwing it on top of his jacket. He’s crawling over you, kissing your face before moving down to your neck.

“You touched yourself before though right?”

You nod, feeling too embarrassed to let out words. He’s sucking at your neck so sweetly you’re sure you’ll forget your name.

“Can I?” He refers to your shirt and you answer with a short ‘yes.’ He pulls your shirt over your head and you reveal your black lace bra to him.

He groans, “if you want me to stop,” he says, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses litter your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts. “Understand?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Clever girl,” the praise goes straight to your core which you are pressing against his bulge.

“Lift up—” he says, giving your thighs a light tap. You lift your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assist him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he is back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settles further down the mattress. His face inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier. 

“And when you touch yourself,” he continues, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You can feel his hot breath through your panties, and it makes you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?” 

“Two- sometimes three, like to rub my clit though.” You are even surprised that you’re vocal but your eyes are on the clock and you know there’s no time for being shy.

“Can do that f’you, let me?”

“Yes yes.” He slides off your panties.

He never takes his lips off of yours when you feel the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sinks his two digits in, the stretch is satisfying. The way he works up your arousal aiding in how easy it is to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. 

“Matty.”

He begins to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head.

You are begging for his name like a prayer, the only word you can find as your abdomen tightens, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs.

“You’re a dream come true.”

You brush his hair from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw falls slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you.

At first, you couldn’t move, can’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Matty keeps working thumb on your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flings back, and a lewd moan echoing off your lips.

“Fuck,” you whine and when he drags his fingers out of you, you can hear the sound of your slick.

He takes them into his mouth, licking the glistening off of his finger. “Taste so sweet, love.”

He lays completely on top of you again, he’s trying not to rut into your leg but you got him so turned on it hurts.

You whine into his mouth, wanting him to fuck you but it’s your first time and you’re nervous and your mind starts rushing again.

“I got you, love, it’s just me,” yeah that’s the fucking problem. “We don’t need to go any further since you have never.”

“My first time was shit, don’t want that for you,” he continues, now you wonder about the details but maybe he can tell you some other time.

“I want this, with you Matty, no one else.” You earn another kiss to you lips.

“Hang on then,” he stands up to grab his wallet from his jacket and he pulls out a condom, it’s cliche and it’s making you giggle that he has a fucking condom in his wallet.

He pulls his pants down and his boxers and your eyes drop down to his fully hard length which is dripping red. He’s big. Now you’re scared of how it will fit.

He puts the condom on and moves on top of you again. “I’m going slow, don’t want to hurt you now do I.”

“If I do though, you tell me or tap my head okay?”

You nod and he tuts, “tell me, love.”

“I will, I promise.”

His mouth lowers down to yours as he slowly begins sheathing himself inside you, inch by inch. He is taking it slowly, which you appreciate. Feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the painful but pleasurable fullness, he leans down to kiss them away.

“I will make it better yeah?, s’ normal that it hurts.”

Once he’s fully buried inside you he keeps his hips still, peppering kisses all over your face. “Shit,” you hiss, still feeling a sting.

“I know,” he keeps kissing your face, your neck, your arms to try to make it better. “Don’t worry, keep that head here with me.” He realized that you wanted to drift off again, but he keeps you in reality.

After a while the smile that adorns your lips makes him feel relieved, hating that he hurt you even for a minute. Once you are some what used to the feeling of him inside you, you lift your hips gently to show him you are ready. Matty is still hesitant with his movements, that is until you start moaning. The pain still lingers faintly, but the pleasure that’s coursing through you is enough to over come it.

“You’re such a good girl,” your hands grip his shoulders as continues to rock his hips into yours, his pace beginning to speed up. Matty is pressing a messy kiss to your lips, tongues dancing together as he makes love to you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that this is what making love should feel like.

He brings his finger between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit. You don’t stop the constant cries from falling from your lips, head falling deeper into the pillows behind you. Matty can’t help but groan, your noises spurring him on further.

“You’re doing so good, showing me how good you feel, keep that going.”

Your nails are leaving behind crescents in the skin of his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. With his available hand he slips a pillow under your hips. Providing him a deeper angle as his thrusts become sharper.

“Stay, stay Matty, stay,” you moan. You both know how you mean those words. Of course you want him to stay inside of you but the real meaning behind those words are that you don’t want him to leave ever. You can’t handle him going away.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright hm,” You can barely get a sentence out, Matty fucking any remaining thoughts from your head.

He knows you aren’t going to last much longer, as your walls repeatedly pulse around his cock. He rubs your clit faster, feeling himself starting to loose it as you scream out his name. Your orgasm shakes your frame, as he continues to fuck you through the euphoria. It only takes a few more thrusts before Matty meets his end, singing you sweet praises as he spills into the condom.

“You’ve done so fucking good, Christ,” you can’t help but smile as he nearly collapses on top of you, his lips leaving kisses anywhere he can reach.

You’re both sweaty and exhausted, as he slowly slips out of you. You try not to wince as you feel so empty, already missing the feeling of him nestled inside you. You wonder if you ever going to know the feeling.

You watch fondly as Matty ties off the condom and tosses it in bin next to your bed. You immediately reach for him once he’s done, pulling him back down onto the blankets with you. Matty lays his head on your breasts with a content sign as you stroke your hand through his hair. The only sounds are of your breathing.

00:30- and you’re cuddling in your bed, you’re clinging to him, holding on to the remaining touch he can give you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you matty.”

“Nonsense,” he says, rolling on to his back to pull you on top of him, “thank you, big step for you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh in contentment.

You drape one leg over his thigh, a hand of yours traveling over his tattoos.

“Matty?” You break the silence, looking up at him. You want to tell him how you feel, how he made you feel and how you want him in your life. You don’t want this to be the last time and you don’t want him to come back in two years with some random girl. You want to be his girl.

You think about how you tell him, if you should tell him. Minutes pass and he lifts your chin to give you a kiss. “I know.” Is all he says.

You stay like this for some time, not wanting to know the time.

-

2:15- and you look outside your window to see him driving away.

[diejager]

I saw something about Victorian COD so hear me out-

Victorian Price in the fanciest suit

I'm sorry but that man would be so hooooooooooot as a Victorian gentleman, it fits his vibe

p.s. Happy 2024!!!!!!!

I got to this 3 months later… Happy belated new year 😅

Cw: flirting? Price being a gentleman, older man/younger woman, established relationship, tell me if I missed any.

Your father’s business parties had always been boring, they were a chore for you to keep a perfect facade to the public, the frail yet strong lady of the house, donned in ridiculously frilly dresses and thighs corsets. Your mother had fussed over it your entire life, her rough fingers, brought from her commoner background, had made her harsher in every manner to keep her title, for you to keep yours as a noble born into a world of riches. But the upkeep of it was useless when you had no part in it, forced to play a part in something you had no right to be a part of. 

Granted, you had your reservation, understanding that being on the same side as your father had it’s perks, the power his title - soon to be passed down to your older brother once your father passed - and his money. You didn’t necessarily depend on it wholly, you might live in his home, eat from his cooks and call for the maids and butlers he employed, but you had your studio away from home, somewhere in the city where you painted under natural light and sold portraits to people who paid you for a commission. 

It wasn’t as grand as being a merchant, to sell the luxuries most nobles sought - gems, fabrics, gold and silver - but it built you connections, your work passed from mouth to ear, one noble at a time, and one town at a time. You had your clientele and your father had his, you had an image to keep for something you worked so hard for, but to invest an equal amount of face and finesse in a snobbish party was draining. Fortunately, a few of your father’s work affiliates were regular clients at your little studio, sending letters to you months in advance to organise dates for you to paint them, it varied between one and a few months.

Your favourite was a British merchant company, lead by one bear of a man that you knew well, managed by three - a kind-hearted brit with beautiful skin, a boisterous Scot with his unusual haircut, and a broad and rugged man who hid his identity under a fearsome mask - other you were well-acquainted with and advised by a strong headed woman too advanced for your era. John Price was his name, a man a decade older than you, but treated you kinder than any man had before him, a gentleman in a beautiful suit and slacks, a red shirt and waxed shoes. He - coincidentally - matched your attire, your frilly, red chemise with a high and bowed collar, the sleeves long and rumpled in waves of red silk, waist high pants that hugged your body the same way your mother’s corset hugged her form and slick shoes that shone under the high chandeliers. 

“You seem bored, love,” his soft and baritone voice never failed to make you shudder, his hand on your back a reminder than he was with you.

He was always the gentleman, a man who worked his way to nobility, gaining a title and land through blood, sweat and tears. He was known for his trades, selling and shipping a large variety of items that some considered exotic simply because nobles hated interacting with foreigners, a kind of bred racism and xenophobia through generations to fear any uprising from their colonies and other countries. He was as broad as his company was known, every core member of it respected for climbing the echelon of society through hard work. Some purebred nobles might hate him for taking a title without being born into it, but none could object his craft, like an artist couldn’t do hate their canvas. 

“There isn’t much to do, is there, John?” You nodded towards your father, knowing that he was observant enough to see the slightest of movement, “My father is… he loves bathing in luxury, in the popularity his name brings.”

He hummed, a low rumble from his throat, his eyes narrowed almost threateningly, but you knew the amused gleam in his eyes. You had years to get to know him, once an occasional client - a man who stumbled into your studio wanting to let a newly risen artist a chance to paint him, admiring your work for the smooth and confident strokes - who brought his art trade to you, now a trusted friend, someone you were blasphemously closed too for someone your age. 

Your friendship hadn’t lasted long, the constant coaching from Kyle and Johnny, the silent push from Simon and the proud smile from Kate had both of you meeting halfway, throwing you into his open arms and fooling around at the back of your studio until John could take you away to marry.Eloping and always sounded interesting, you weren’t needed at home, your father had an heir and your mother had your younger sister to worry about.

“He flaunts it foolishly, yes,” he agreed, raising the cup to his lips, tipping it until the champagne flowed down the glass rim, “But we have a contract, one I intend to uphold until he complete his end of it. And I met you.”

He turned to you, a tender smile hidden under his beard, his stormy blues softening as he peered down at you, adoration gleaming in his eyes. You wished you could kiss him, to grip him by the collar and pull him down to press your lips against his course ones, to kiss him deeply and show him the love you felt for him. 

“I would, love, but we’re in public,” had you spoken out loud? It seemed you did if John answered you, his chuckles shaking his shoulders, “Would you come home with me once I’ve finished my business?”

“Of course, John.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[meruz]

hi meruz please tell me all your thoughts on outer wilds I am absolutely Living rn

HI oh my god i have so many thoughts. I think I'm gonna keep posting fanart so this definitely isnt gonna be my last word on the matter but wow what a game! um... idk if I wanna just type forever but I can give you at least a few key thoughts I had...

It took me a second to get into! I had been waiting for the switch port so I was really excited starting out but there were a couple early play sessions months apart where I was struggling with the controls and overwhelmed with the openness...I have a hard time with a lot of open worlds games because I just..dont have a lot of free time LOL. But I was complaining abt this to my brother and he was also having a hard time rly digging into the game so when he flew over to visit me a couple weeks ago I was like ok lets do this together (incentivizing gaming by making it social/co-operative). And we had a blast!!! it rly is the type of game you can play as co-op just by having someone else on the couch or on stream doin the thinking alongside you or bouncing theories off of. I do think he's a much better puzzle solver than me though lol (he works in research, so he's got that researcher brain), he made a lot of the leaps of logic way early while I was still turning things over in my head lmao.... AND he's better with the controls because he plays a lot of flight sims?! i think he got annoyed watching me bumble around anytime i had the controller. my sole contribution was doing the stealthy parts in the dlc because im stupid and consequentially lack fear.

I kind of grew up playing majoras mask and windwaker like that was the era of zelda games I was rly activated and engaged for as a kid and I didn't realize how much I was missing and craving that type of experience again LOL. I think especially with how I personally felt that tears of the kingdom was narratively and structurally a step down from botw... idk... i mean you can tell from interviews abt Outer Wilds that the devs clearly have a lot of affection for and thoughts abt the Zelda series as well and I think Outer Wilds was like such a good encapsulation of everything I loved abt those games and also everything I wish they would do lol!! IT ALSO kind of solved a lot of my pain points with open world games and did it in a way that was so elegant... like I think i initially recoiled at the openness but then when i started exploring and realized the scope and level of detail it rly clicked into place.. im just in awe.

umm i love every hearthian they were all so charming. it rly did feel like an older school of nintendo rpg where every npc has so much personality lol. i loved that every alien race in the game was some weird animal like the designs for all of them were rly good. i love that it was a "worn" universe and that everything looked old or used. I love astronomy and space and space concepts but I don't really like really lofty and impersonal/minimalist scifi so i feel like this was a great and accessible art direction for me personally. i especially thought the backpacking/outerdoorsy aesthetic was really inspired! I think "exploration" sometimes exists on a spectrum where one end of it can be really colonialist/militaristic LOL... UM which im not like. fully against i think it can be an interesting idea to dissect? but i feel like we see it a lot and it was neat to see this which felt like the complete opposite end of that spectrum. weirdly enough playing Outer Wilds made me immediately go and finally finish Firewatch right after but I felt a little spoiled I was like ehh..that was good but it wasn't Outer Wilds LOL.

i think a lot of the themes reminded me of lord of the rings/tolkien lore LOL IDK. I GUESS THIS IS LIKE BIG SPOILERS SO if you havent played dont read but like. the entire concept of being born at the end of a great and enormous world/age with a rich history and you only getting to see the end of it, living in the shadow of great civilization...keeping your humble home in your heart idk. but then also the new world being a song ... I'm a sucker. I love it.

yeah sorry only compliments. anyways yeah i want to do more fanart... soon!! hopefully!

[writingforatwistedworld]

Another bread era?

Otome au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, stalking, threats, death, murder

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-“I’m gonna take your bread sir… let me take your bread SIR SIR STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME SIR!!!??”

Malleus Draconia, the hidden king behind the roses, a legend who even the highest of kings and queens whisper in fear about... is holding back a laugh from watching you

Ok, to be fair, you can only do so much as a ruler of a Kingdom which has been isolated from the others for so long which probably also resulted him in being a bit (or maybe a lot more than a bit) for social interactions

Malleus adores you to a level which is incomprehensible for the ordinary human mind. Heck, most likely for any mind

Yet his most beloved is at the moment pretty much the opposite of him. Most unelegant they screamed at the poor bakers of the Queendom of Roses for their bread

Not like those humans, pardon, NPCs could hear you but it was a rather silly sight to see you sprinting up to the next person like you were possessed and demanding their bread

Could it be that there was a famine that led to you now demanding the food of others? But why especially bread? (I am not joking he is seriously asking himself that)

After sending Lilia out to check, just to be sure, he finally found out that no, you are not on the path of starvation, you are just silly

Might as well enjoy the show then. It's not every day that you see an otherworldly bring controlling a body being this interesting... not like he had seen another bodysnatcher like you before

When he noticed the havoc you caused in your wake he could not hold it back anymore, bursting into laughter he swiped tears of joy from his cheeks

Why this moment was so funny to him was beyond him. Perhaps it was that small memory of another place far in the past, a human from another world, a room filled with all kinds of individuals enjoying their rather mediocre meal together

Perhaps he should humor you

Sending out Lilia yet again (the poor bas-) he ordered that you were brought a basket filled with the finest sentiment of breads

Soft bread, hard bread, bread with seeds, bread with a crunchy crust, bread that tasted spicy and much, much more

When that NPC tried to trade all that bread for a meager price which could barely feed a person for a day the oh-so-lighthearted atmosphere shifted immediately into something that can only be described by “Oh f, he did it”

“Lilia, when was the last time you sharpened your blade?” “Pardon?”

But hey, at e end off the day you had still your bread and everything was great and fine and dandy and yay and oh my god someone just got killed in a PG-13 game what the heck is going on??!

Lilia is someone who takes his duties very seriously

Be it conveying messages to all those that have paid the price of his ruler's benevolence or monitoring the one who connects the one controlling them and this world

At first, Lilia assumed that the one controlling the puppet wearing white and blue would be a cold-hearted tyrant who loved to watch an entire world being nothing more than a game to them

But then...

“SIR GIMME UR BREAAAAAD!” A most frightening battle cry, Lilia nearly fell off from the tree branch he was dangling from when he first heard it

Were you finally setting out to conquer this world? Was it finally time to draw his sword and- uh... huh? *Insert confused expression*

Instead of attacking a defenseless person you sprinted to the next one, repeating the same actions you did just a second ago

The general had expected something of a crueler nature, just how the Gods were at the dawn, not someone jumping up and down whilst demanding bread

But perhaps, this could be used to his benefit?

The next day you found a new NPC. How strange, haven't you walked down this path in the game many times before? His did you miss him?

Interacting with the young man you found out that he was a baker who specialised in bread

How funny! You made a show of wanting bread just yesterday

It was almost like the game was interacting with your real-life self... Nah. Must be your imagination

To your delight, the dialogue seemed to change every single day, ending with the baker telling you stories far too dangerous for a normal person like him to experience

Every following day the interactions with the young man became more and more interesting, and by interesting I mean they went more and more off the grid

Lilia had to tell you more stories from the past he could still remember. This started with him investigating by talking to you but after time, he got attached. What if you were to move on and leave him behind from boredom? After some time his filter started to stop much less from his past than before. Things that he would have sugar-coated before we're now on full display.

Just don't turn your affection to somebody else. You were such a refreshing new sight that he simply had to own your attention

Now now, play nice and do what he says. Otherwise you might find a few NPCs missing

[rainydaydream-gal18]

hi! I don't know if you take requests, but if you do may I request a Tech x f!Jedi reader where they sort of acknowledged their feelings for one another during the era of the clone wars, but never really acted upon them. then after order 66 happens, they somehow reunite and ofc Tech is super happy to see her again, then on pabu his brother have to convince him to act and kiss her since neither of them know when or if they will see one another again, and he does?

thanks!

(Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: Ghost

Author's Note: Consider this a late Tech Tuesday! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,108

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, kiss

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tech tilted his head to steal a sideways glance at Hunter through his goggles, brows furrowing over his narrowed eyes as his mind considered a million and one possibilities.

"One might say I have," he answered cryptically, not wasting any more time before pursuing the figure.

It was evident that Hunter was puzzled by the reply, but he knew better than to ignore that look in his squadmate's eyes. He reached out with his senses in hopes of noticing anything in particular.

But even he has difficulty finding something in a bustling square when he hasn't the slightest clue of what that something is.

Tech was determined to track down his target. It was only a fleeting glimpse... But he was sure he'd seen it. His brown eyes scanned the crowd of faces as he shouldered his way through in the most polite way he could in such a hurry. A chorus of, "excuse me"s and "pardon"s left his lips. He even had to utter a full apology after stepping on a bystander's foot.

Then, he saw it again.

This time, he wouldn't lose sight of it. His eyes remained locked on it- on her.

It was her, he realized.

She had joined a small crowd in the main square to observe the festival performers.

She wore dark clothes- very different from her robes.

But of course, Tech thought. She was in hiding. Obviously, she would have to protect her identity after Order 66 occurred.

Tech looked over his shoulder to see Hunter with widened eyes. He'd finally seen you too. They both locked gazes and nodded, mutually deciding to approach with caution.

For once in his life, Tech wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. After all, it wouldn't be unheard of for your instincts to kick in, especially towards clones.

By the time he reached you, he was even less sure.

Hunter took the liberty of greeting you simply and in a light-hearted way in hopes that you'd be put at ease.

"Fancy meeting you here," he rumbled.

Tech's eyes flickered back to you, watching as you turned around. The way your face lit up at the realization of who it was warmed Tech's heart. Your smile grew wide, and your eyes began to glisten with tears that welled up.

He waited, even as you threw your arms around Hunter in a gleeful embrace, to see if any fear or uneasiness registered in your expression. Your body language toward the squad leader showed no indication of anything other than relief and familiarity.

You pulled back from Hunter, sharing a meaningful look with your friend, before turning to Tech.

"Oh, Tech." you practically launched yourself into his arms, and he took a second to process the action before tightening the embrace. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" you whispered into his neck.

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your lips against his skin as you uttered the most sorrowed question in a barely-audible voice.

She's here, his inner voice kept saying. She's here. She's here in my arms. Nothing is going to harm her. I will never allow it.

Tech squeezed tighter, swearing to himself that he'd never let you go again. It was duty that had separated you during the Clone Wars. But now that the Republic had fallen, this duty no longer existed.

The embrace was long, but not nearly long enough. You pulled away, wiping the wetness from your cheeks with a sleeve, sniffling.

"I knew it," you said shakily, your voice breaking off into a laugh. "I sensed you when I landed. After the Order, part of me hoped beyond hope... But I wasn't sure I'd find you either way."

"Small Galaxy, I s'pose," Hunter joked. "Still, how'd you know we weren't going to..."

"Blast me to smithereens?" you finished with a grimace. "Well, this planet doesn't seem to be occupied by the Empire. I figured if you were here, you weren't likely to be under the influence of chips."

"Still," Tech spoke up again, meeting your gaze. "We could have in theory been doing recon work for the Empire. Hunting undercover. "

"I guess that was a chance I was willing to take," you said, your own gaze unwavering as it bore into his soul. A flood gate of memories opened up as he looked own into your eyes.

Suddenly, he saw you on the battlefield, standing right at his side with your lightsaber in hand, deflecting blasts. He saw you in the cockpit of the Marauder, your features shadowed beautifully by the light of stars streaking past in hyperspace. He saw you seated on a crate, the sleeve of your robe rolled up to reveal a wound that he tended to with a bacta patch. He felt you press against him as the two of you made your way through a dark cave back-to-back.

He saw your downcast expression as you waved the squad farewell after being transferred to another system to aid a fellow Jedi in the War effort.

"Hey! Look who it is!" The booming voice of Wrecker sounded over the commotion of the festival. You looked over to see him approaching with a small girl on his shoulders, and Crosshair in tow. Another soldier was following not too far behind.

"Wrecker! Crosshair!" you greeted. "Am I glad to see you!"

Wrecker set the girl down to hug you properly, and Crosshair begrudgingly accepted an embrace from you. The girl was watching you curiously. The other soldier also seemed intrigued by your familiarity with the squad.

Finally, Hunter continued with introductions. "Omega, meet ______, an ally and good friend of the squad."

He didn't dare use the word "jedi" in a crowd, not even in a place as safe as Pabu.

You hadn't expected to see her face light up in realization, as if she knew all about you.

"And this is Omega," Hunter continued. "It's...a long story. In short, she's-"

"Our sister!" Wrecker finished.

You couldn't help the awed smile as you greeted her properly. "Wow, it's wonderful to meet you, Omega."

She was beaming up at you as she stepped forward to shake your hand. "You too. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?" you shot Wrecker a humorously suspicious look. "All good things, I hope."

"Mostly," he guffawed.

"This here is Echo," Hunter said, motioning to the other soldier. He seemed to know who you were already because he saluted with his scomp arm. Touched by the gesture, you saluted back. "He joined the squad shortly before the War ended."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," he said.

"Likewise," you replied.

Tech had been unusually silent the entire time, and you found yourself glancing his way, hoping to get a read on what might be going on inside that mind of his. His gaze was already locked on you, and his lips were pursed, a sign that he did have loads to say. The sight nearly made you laugh.

Same ol' Tech.

The group naturally made its way out of the crowd, heading for the beach so that you could all talk openly and get caught up. Each of the squad took turns recounting in their own words some of the adventures that took place after Order 66. They were beyond curious to know the events that transpired in your escape and evasion of the Empire in the following months.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were home.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"You can't stay, can you?"

The question wasn't wholly unexpected. Hunter's heightened senses allowed him to see more than what was around him. Sometimes he saw into you just a little too well.

You let out a sigh, looking out over the perfect view of the island from your spot on the porch. It was almost painful to confirm Hunter's suspicion when you were gazing at blue water shining in the sun, waiting for the rest of the squad to return to the neighborhood after their work was done for the day.

After over a month on Pabu, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

But the fact of the matter was, there was some unfinished business to take care of.

"I need to go away for a while," you admitted.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, brows raised. "You're safe here."

"I know." You closed your eyes, breathing the salty air into your lungs peacefully. "But there are others who aren't. I can sense it. They're lost and confused, and...afraid. They need me."

He nodded gravely. As always, he respected your judgment. He honored your sense of duty to others, despite his concern. If there was anyone who understood, it was him.

"I'll be back," you told him. "In a little while. I will return to you all."

"We'll be waiting."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Breaking the news to the others wasn't something you'd ever want to do again. Omega and Wrecker were downcast. Crosshair voiced his disapproval in his own way, flicking a toothpick onto the ground. Echo wasn't happy to see you go, but he seemed to understand. Duty to his brothers would soon to call him away also as it had before, or so he'd told you.

What you hadn't expected was Tech to fall silent. His expression didn't exactly betray frustration or displeasure, but you'd always known him to express emotion differently. After all, as you'd come to find out from the others, your departure from the squad during the Clone Wars had affected him more than he'd let on to you.

Just when you thought that maybe Tech's feelings didn't go as far as you once thought, he broke the silence.

"Leaving the safe haven of Pabu is most unwise."

The entire squad froze at Tech's version of an outburst. It wasn't a shout. It was controlled, but each word was laced with a tinge of bitterness- something you'd rarely ever heard.

At that, suddenly the others felt the need to excuse themselves, for one reason or another. Wrecker out of the blue remembered that he and Omega needed to go see Shep about...something. Echo was adamant about joining them. Hunter excused himself to finish a household chore. And Crosshair just up and walked away without a word.

When just you and Tech remained, you responded to his statement calmly.

"I know, it's a risk. But it's one I have to take. I'd hoped you would understand."

"Forgive me," he said curtly, turning his face away, putting his chiseled profile in full view. "I do understand."

Your heart broke at the sight. "Tech..."

He faced you again, an unreadable expression crossing his features. "I understand perfectly."

Before you could say anything more, he walked away.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Tech paused tinkered adamantly with the device in his hands.

He felt like an adolescent. Like some young cadet.

When Crosshair had gone his own way, seemingly lost to the squad, Tech found a way to rationalize it. When Echo departed from the squad for a time, Tech processed the shift in his own way.

Adapting was the name of the game. Tech always felt that finding a way to adapt to changing scenarios would mean a higher probability of survival for himself and the squad as a whole. Rather than wasting time trying to change things according to his own wishes, or longing for things to be different, he found the rate of success would increase immensely if he simply, "rolled with the punches."

So, why did he act contrary to that belief just now? Why didn't he simply shake your hand without so much as a nod and let you continue on your way?

Perhaps it was the environment. The peaceful planet of Pabu, where the squad lived out its days safe and sound- having long since abandoned the life of soldiers and mercenaries- brought about a softer, gentler existence. Survival was no longer something that the squad struggled with.

The lack of a need to adapt perhaps left room for Tech's true emotions to shine through- a luxury previously unheard of in his mind.

"Let me guess," Crosshair's coiled voice interrupted his train of thought. "You didn't tell her how you feel...again."

Ah, fantastic. This was just what Tech needed at the moment. A dose of his brother's difficult and unyielding character.

He adjusted his goggles, resuming his tinkering as if he was unbothered. "I fail to see how that is relevant."

"You know, if you tell her, she might stay."

Tech paused. "I do not see why she would. She had made it quite clear that her mind is made up."

"Is it now?" Crosshair leaned against the doorway of Tech's quarters, crossing his arms. "And how do you know she won't change it?"

Tech didn't reply. Perhaps his brother would give up and leave.

"She deserves to know."

...But of course not.

"What makes you say that?" Tech looked up.

"Because it's the sort of thing people do." Crosshair placed a toothpick between his teeth. "When they care about someone, they tell them. They never know when they'll get the chance to...or if."

That one sent Tech's mind reeling.

Regret. As much as he tried to distance himself from it, as it was another hindrance to adapting to the situation at hand...he knew it would be something that he'd be faced with if he left things the way he had...

But telling you how he felt? Tech wondered how he could even begin to do so. He was eloquent in matters of machinery. Science. Technology. Those were languages he spoke fluently.

Telling you that he cared for you?

Loved you?

That was a foreign concept entirely.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The time of your departure had come all too soon. The squad was gathered around your ship on a rainy afternoon to see you off.

You'd be back soon, you kept reiterating to each of them. Tech watched as you hugged Hunter, and the leader wished you well. Wrecker picked you up and spun you around. Omega, who'd come to admire you so, wrapped her arms around you in a heartfelt hug. Crosshair once more allowed an embrace, bringing his hand up to awkwardly pat your back. Echo, in his fashion, saluted you before you laughed and embraced him also.

Tell her how you feel. Tell her how you feel. Tech kept telling himself that over and over again. It didn't seem to make his next move any easier. Even with the hours and hours of thought he put into it, the task of telling you that he cared for you still seemed monumental. Impossible even.

But his brother's words rang true.

He had to let you know. Somehow.

You were standing in front of him, concern etched on your face. It was evident that his last interaction with you left you unsure as to what his behavior would be. Tech hated that he'd caused that uncertainty.

He opened his mouth, but for once in his entire existence, nothing came out. There was no spew of information. No explanation rolling effortlessly off his lips. Not even a peep.

You were waiting patiently for him to get his bearings- though your uneasiness seemed to increase.

His brain shorted out, and then suddenly everything became crystal clear. If he couldn't begin to tell you how he felt, perhaps it would be best if he didn't tell you.

Tech's resolve cemented, and he closed the distance between you with a single step. Your eyes widened as he stepped into your space, and your hand came up to rest on his chest. When it registered that there was no force behind it, that you were not trying to push him away, Tech placed a hand on each of your shoulders and leaned in.

Your expression melted before his very eyes. With no further thought to your surroundings, you leaned in the rest of the way.

Your thoughts were racing as Tech's lips pressed warmly against your own.

The determined look in his eyes had made your heart flutter. The way he'd so decidedly stepped into your space, how his hands held you in such a way that you doubted anything could move you from that spot... It was captivating.

You recalled the time when thoughts of kissing Tech were the sort of thing that used to keep you up at night.

During the War, your familial affection for the squad would have been questionable in the eyes of the Council, if they'd known. But your attachment to Tech in particular would have been considered dangerous. Absolutely forbidden.

But love is a force of its own.

You were certain of that more than ever, with Tech tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his arms sliding around your form to hold you tighter as the rain pelted you both from above.

What began as a fervid gesture rendered something softer, sweeter in the end. His lips brushed yours tenderly one last time, feather-light, as if savoring the moment, before pulling away.

You tugged him back before he got too far, holding him in an embrace as you buried your face in his chest.

"Stay."

There was no edge to his tone with the request. It broke your heart all the same to hear it.

"I can't," you whispered.

"Perhaps I can accompany you, then." There was a waver in his exhale from the chill of the rain.

"There's no need. Besides, I'll be back faster than you can say, 'Marauder.'"

"I highly doubt that you will return that quickly."

You chuckled, reaching up to wipe some of the drops from his goggles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"This. I needed it."

The two of you parted, and Wrecker whistled jokingly. Crosshair gave Tech a nod of approval, and Echo was shaking his head in amusement. Hunter merely looked at you with a raised brow, and suddenly your shoes became very fascinating to you.

"I'll see you all soon."

"Keep us updated, will ya?" Hunter asked, giving you a nudge.

"Absolutely. Bye, everyone!" you gave one last salute before boarding your ship. As you engaged the take-off, Tech received a variety of shoulder-pats and nudges of sympathy from the squad.

And when your ship disappeared on the horizon, he found himself glued to the spot for several minutes.

"Don't worry," Hunter assured him. "She's strong. Skilled too."

"I am aware," Tech acknowledged. Another moment of silence passed. "Her engine sounded strange. Perhaps I should comm her."

Hunter chuckled, clapping his hand on Tech's shoulder. "Knock yourself out. I'm sure she'd be glad to hear from you."

[dixons-sunshine]

👉👈 Because your my fav writer for Dad Daryl 👉👈 Just wondering if you’d consider him stepping up as a parental figure for his niece (Merle’s kid) after he “died” and when he actually died 👉👈

I'm Right Here | Uncle!Daryl Dixon x Niece!Reader (platonic/familial)

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With Merle gone, you were the only family Daryl had left. He had unofficially stepped up as your dad, and in those eight months with your actual father "dead", Daryl was a better dad than Merle ever was. And he proved it in more ways than one, even before Merle went missing.

Genre: Fluff, some light angst.

Era: The Quarry, The Prison (season three).

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and death, fear of abandonment.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: I've been bouncing back and forth between fics and finally managed to finish this. Next up is I Never Lived For The Applause, and then some more young!Daryl. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Hey, kiddo. Ya alrigh'?”

“I'm fine. The walkers didn't get me,” you tried to reassure him. “You didn't find my dad?”

You looked up at the sound of your uncle's voice, meeting his intense gaze. You gave him a small, unconvincing smile that he could see through instantly.

Daryl sat down on the log next to you, placing his crossbow down on the ground. He stared ahead at the ashes of the prior night's fire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Nah. Wasn't nothin' to find 'cept his hand. He had to cut it off.”

You winced, absentmindedly grabbing your own hand at the mere thought of the pain that it must've caused your father. Despite your strained relationship with the man for obvious reasons, he didn't deserve that fate—to lose his hand because some people couldn't find another way to deal with his temper.

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your heart break. Despite everything, Merle was your father and you loved him. At least he had stuck around. The same couldn't be said for your mother, who had dropped you on Merle's doorstep the moment you were born.

“Yeah,” Daryl responded, instantly picking up on your downtrodden mood but not knowing how to bring you comfort in a moment like that. He'd just essentially told you, his thirteen year old niece that was so wise beyond her years due to the shit Merle had gotten into, that your father was most likely dead. It tore him apart to have to bestow that news on you, but it was necessary. What could he do, lie to you? That was out of the question.

You blinked the tears away that had started to well up in your eyes, trying to put on a brave face for your uncle. “Looks like it's just us now, huh, uncle Daryl? The two remaining Dixons.”

Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile and ruffled your hair, chuckling quietly at the sound of protest you let out. “Looks like it. We're gon' give the world hell, ya and I. Jus' like the old times.”

You smiled up at him. Even though your father was gone, you still had your uncle, and that made you feel better about everything.

“We are. The world ain't ready for us.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“It won't work.”

“S'gotta.”

“It'll stir things up,” Rick told Daryl, adamant with his decision.

“Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison righ' now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle,” Daryl replied defiantly, glancing between his companions on the road.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol, Beth or Y/n?” Glenn questioned, unwilling to let Merle, a known hothead and former drug user, near the people he's come to care about.

“He ain't a rapist,” Daryl responded, frowning at Glenn's accusation. “And he sure as hell wouldn't touch his own daughter like tha'. Merle may be sick in some ways, but he ain't like tha'.”

“Yeah, okay, but his buddy is.”

“They ain't buddies no more. Not after last nigh'.”

Rick chipped in to the conversation, turning the archer's attention back to him. “There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats.”

“What, so ya'd cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” Daryl asked, motioning over to Michonne who was waiting for them by the car.

“She's not coming back with us.”

“She's not in a state to be on her own,” Maggie denied, giving Rick a pointed look.

Glenn nodded in agreement to his girlfriend's statement. “She did bring you guys to us.”

“And then ditched us,” Rick stated in a bored tone, eyeing Michonne warily.

“At least let my dad stitch her up?” Maggie asked.

“It's too unpredictable,” Rick denied vehemently, shaking his head.

Daryl nodded in agreement. “He's righ', we dun' know who she is. But Merle... Merle's blood.”

“No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison,” Glenn countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're part of that family,” Rick told Daryl, looking at him expectantly. “He's not. He's not.”

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering over his decisions. Thoughts of leaving with Merle, going off and fending for themselves like the old days flashed through his mind, but then he thought of you. You, his sweet, kind, low-key badass, now fourteen year old niece who he'd gone to great lengths to protect over the past eight months. The girl who he'd been taking care of since his brother "died", the girl who had unknowingly started to feel like his own daughter, though he would never tell Merle that. And at that moment, he knew he couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

“Man, wha' do y'all expect me to tell my niece?” Daryl began, effectively silencing everyone. “Tha' I found her father after all this time and he's alive, but he couldn't come back to her 'cause y'all said so? How's tha' gon' fly with her? Ya'd really deprive the girl a chance at gettin' her father back 'cause of wha' might happen?”

That seemed to really make everyone reconsider. Even Glenn didn't have a counter argument now. Everything was silent for a good thirty seconds while Rick weighed his options, exchanging wordless exchanges with Maggie and Glenn. It was clear that nobody wanted it, but the group couldn't deny Daryl's argument. They cared about you, and it would be unfair for them to deny you the chance of getting your father back.

Rick turned and whistled, signalling Merle over. When he stood in front of him, Rick gripped him by his shirt, getting into his face.

“You're coming with us, but this isn't an invitation for you to be a jackass with everyone back at the prison. The only reason you're even coming back is because of your daughter. If it wasn't for her, you'd be gone.”

Merle's eyes widened the slightest bit with surprise, but it soon morphed back into his usual careless look. “Well, would ya look at tha'. My lil' girl still lives. M'surprised, quite honestly. Didn't think she was built fer this world. Kinda expected her to have kicked the bucket by now.”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl's voice boomed unexpectedly, shutting his brother up. “Dun' make me regret convincin' them to bring ya back. And if ya even say one degradin' thing to yer daughter, I will personally gut ya and feed ya to the walkers. Tha' kid's been through 'nough.”

Unbeknownst to either brother, Rick, Glenn and Maggie had walked ahead to get everything settled into the car, leaving the two brothers to their feud. It was a good idea, too. That was a family matter.

“Wha', ya actually care 'bout her now? Didn't see ya stickin' 'round to play pretend with her back before the world went to shit, and now yer tryna tell me how to parent my own child? Nah, lil' bro. Tha' ain't how it works.”

Daryl scoffed and shoved past him, walking over to the car. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of Merle's laughter, rolling his eyes at it. He pressed forward and slipped into the passenger's seat, not missing the way everyone tensed up when Merle got into the car.

He just hoped that he hadn't made the wrong decision by bringing Merle back.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

You and Carl were rushing over to the gates when you saw the familiar vehicle enter the courtyard. The car was noticeably more crowded, and with one glance through the window, you were relieved to see your uncle. You had been so worried that something might have happened to him, but there he was, relatively unscathed.

Daryl was barely out of the car when you practically launched yourself into his arms. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, hugging you tightly to him. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of your sniffles.

“Hey, kiddo, s'alrigh'. M'okay,” he reassured you in whispered tones, rubbing his hand up and down your back in comfort.

“I was so scared. I couldn't stop fearing the worst,” you choked out, trying to will the sobs away. You buried your face into your uncle's shirt, dampening it slightly with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

“M'righ' here. I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise,” he assured you. “No more tears, alrigh'? Ain't no more need fer 'em.”

“Well, ain't this jus' sweet.”

A familiar raspy voice met your ears. You tensed up, pulling away from the hug and turning around, facing the man you had thought to be dead for eight months—your father, Merle Dixon.

“Wha', no hugs fer yer old man, girl?” Merle asked, a grin on his face as he extended his arms in a silent invitation for a hug. “Yer not gon' greet the man who helped with givin' ya life?”

Subconsciously, you took a step back. Daryl stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. He gave Merle a warning glare before turning to you.

“Why dun' ya go help Hershel with tha' lady we brought back? I know he's been teachin' ya some medical things. It'd do ya good to learn how to do stitches.” You nodded, understanding his underlying message and sped off, leaving him alone with Merle. Daryl turned to face him, a glare on his face. “Man, back the hell off. She ain't gotta give ya anythin' if she dun' want to.”

“Because I was with the enemy?”

“'Cause yer a simple minded piece of shit who never even bothered to play dolls with her, much less give her hugs! Ya wanna know somethin'? When tha' lady dropped her off on our doorstep, who do ya think took care of her when yer ass was too high or drunk to? To answer yer question from earlier, I did stick 'round. I changed her diapers. I bathed her, fed her, stayed up with her at nigh' when ya wouldn't. I took care of her. Ya were jus' too fuckin' out of it most of the time to realise it! Hell, did ya think those things happened magically?”

“Now listen here, bro—” Merle started, but Daryl didn't light up.

“And when she got older, who the hell do ya think took her to school? Picked her up, encouraged her to do the spelling bee, went to parent teacher conferences? Do ya think the fuckin' tooth fairy did tha'? Say wha' ya want, bro, but she dun' owe ya shit. Ya may not have been like dad, but ya weren't a good father, either.”

Merle stayed silent for a moment, the weight of his brother's final statement weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then why the hell did ya convince 'em to bring me back?”

“'Cause despite everythin', tha' girl still loves ya. And she deserves to have her father 'round,” Daryl responded simply before turning around and stalking off, leaving Merle alone and dumbfounded.

Merle Dixon wasn't right about most things, but one thing he knew for certain he was right about was that you probably didn't care whether he was dead or not. If what Daryl was saying was true, you didn't need him. You had a perfectly good father figure in your life already. Daryl had been a better father to you than your actual father was.

And for some unknown reason, that crushed Merle's heart.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You found him like that?”

Daryl's heart shattered at the broken sound of your voice. It was the second time that he had needed to tell you that Merle was dead, but this time, it was real. Your father's lifeless corpse layed motionless six feet in the ground in the designated graveyard, Daryl having dragged him there and buried him.

Daryl nodded. “Found him as a walker. He had tried to kill the governor but failed. Son of a bitch got to him first.”

“I should've stopped him. I should've known that something was wrong,” you said, a sob threatening to escape your body. “Before he left, he told me that he was proud of me. That he loved me. I should've known that there was a reason to it. He never told me that before. I should've—”

A choked up sob finally fell past your lips. Daryl instinctively pulled you into his arms, offering to be the pillar of strength for you as you crumbled. Despite everything, Merle was still your father. You still had a handful of good memories with the man—when he wasn't drunk or high, Merle was an okay father. But just okay.

It took a while, but you finally managed to calm down. Instinctively, Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, running his hand soothingly over your back.

“S'alrigh', kiddo,” he whispered soothingly.

You didn't know what made you say what you said next. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't thinking straight. Maybe it was because you were desperately looking for a pillar of support, you didn't know. But before you could stop it, the words slipped past your lips—

“Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too, Dad.”

A moment of silence passed. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile spread over Daryl's face. He pulled you closer to him.

“Ya still got me. M'here and I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. Yer stuck with me.”

Merle Dixon wasn't always a good man. He wasn't always a good father either. But in the midst of a cruel world, before and after the dead started walking, Merle managed to give Daryl a sweet gift—you, his daughter. Because despite biological relations, you were now truly his.

[twigg96]

Hi! Can you do daryl dixon x y/n where Daryl gets protective over y/n when a creepy guy won’t leave her alone no matter what she says so he punches him across the face, ending in like comforting fluff/ smut or both ❤️

Hello @dustbunniess!! This sounds like a great idea! I'm so so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you love so much has happened since you asked for this I'm just trying to get by.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus Era (Claimers Era)

Pronouns: You/Your, She/Her (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: The Claimers, Daryl with the Claimers, Attempted Sexual Assault, Crass behavior and language, Swearing, Physical Violence, Assault, Blood, Panic Attacks, Confusion, Delusion, Daryl becoming a literal savage, Abuse, Death, Beatings, Daryl reliving past traumas, Doing what you have to survive, Things happen off screen,

Summery: After the prison fell you were left alone in a world you felt was unfair and cruel. And who could blame you? Truly after all you'd been through? You changed from the person you were in the prison. But then... so did everyone else... When Daryl your boyfriend is the first to find you out in the world you see just how much things have changed with the new group he's in.

Separate Ways

It was when the prison went up in flames that you knew it was over. There was no going back. No redemption. The governor… in some sick twist of fate. Had won. Although your family had taken his life, and the lives of all his followers. You were all left to suffer, and after such a horrendous outbreak that you all had thought you defeated too… The difference was. This time you were completely on your own. No friendly face to turn to. No guiding hand to help you. Just you and the corpse you stabbed in the skull.

You had followed the screams out. So sure you were following Rick and Carl… but so soon you realized you were completely and utterly wrong. Trudging through the woods towards the highway you knew was your Emergency escape route you cursed your lack of preparation. No water, no food. You knew you had to act fast. Find shelter before the sun completely set for the night, find food before you starved... trudging through the thick forest you quickly found a path to follow. It had paid off to have followed your boyfriend on so many hunting expeditions and to help him on runs.

Coming to a stop you stilled your breath slowly scanning the wooded area around you. Nothing but trees and leaves surrounded you even though you had thought you heard the soft crackle of leaves, the snapping of a twig behind you. It wasn't loud and obnoxious. Something you've come to expect of walkers by now. Nor was it natural and fluid like the wildlife you had so greatly come to miss. It felt human. Large and concise. Hunting. Shivers ran down your spine. Bobbing and weaving through the tree line you darted back out onto the road that you had left in favor of the camouflage of the forest. Pulling your rifle you aimed blindly. Footsteps coming nearer. Louder. Like a bear charging it even growled. Placing your finger on the trigger you stepped back. "Stop!" You yelled.

A boy scrawny and pale came tumbling out of the brush. No older than Carl he looked up to you, his eyes wide and fearful he shivered in fear. Plastered in mud and blood you stared him down panting as the adrenaline left you both. Slowly he raised his hands high, shaking like a leaf he shook his head. "I-I'm so sorry." He whispered. One of the governor's, you realized. "I-It's my sister. She's hurt real bad... please..."

Glaring daggers at the teen you hissed through your teeth, stepping forward your weapon still raised and pointed directly between his eyes. "And why should I help you?" You growled. "She's all I got left." He whispered a tear running down his cheek. Hmm... at one time in life you would have felt pity. You would have run to his aid in a heartbeat. Now... Now however you scoffed at him. "Shoulda thought about that before you got yerself blown ta hell and back." You hiss lowering your gun. With wide eyes the boy watches in disbelief as you sling your pack off your back and rummage through it. "Y-you're just going to let her die?!" He screamed. "Pretty much sounds like you are kid." You growl, pulling out the last of your protein bars before slinging your bag back over your shoulder. "Standing there ain't doin' her no favors so I'd hop to it if I were you." You muttered taking a bite of your bar and walking down the road a stretch. Stomping on the ground like a toddler who didn't get his way the kid whined. "No I'm asking you for help!" He yelled. You wanted to turn and glare. You wanted to yell and scream. Hell you wanted to shoot him. But the growling and the thick rustling of leaves alerted you to the oncoming horde early. In his rage he must not had heard. Until they were right on top of him. You wondered briefly if his sister was among them.

Alone again you let the road take you where it will. across a bridge and through a town that was overrun with walkers. It was there you adopted a few walkers to help you navigate the thick hordes in the streets. Releasing them into the next life once you made it to the next side of town you sighed the tire marks in town leading to a hospital you'd rather not go near. So instead a set of train tracks that you crossed became your path. Instinctively you listened for trains. Your boots worn with wear stuck in the wood and on the nails. It was there you saw the first sign. "Go to Terminus." Your heart swelled. You didn't know where they were. How close they were. But you had to hope. Maybe. Possibly. They were safe.

Resting against a garage for the night you closed your eyes for what felt like a mere second. It most certainly wasn't hours... or so you had thought. Leaves and twigs had become your best friend in this world. The early indicator of something to come. But this time it was more. Loud. Uncaring if it was heard. Jumping awake you reached for your gun by your side but before you could grab it a large boot kicked it away. The large man standing before you sneered at you. "So she's awake." He laughed as you pressed yourself as far into the metal wall as possible. Three more men stepped out of the woods around you both. The laughed and jeered at you kicking at your feet as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "Bet she's good." One said. Another had the sheer audacity to grab a handful of your hair and sniff it. As you went to slap him another grabbed your hand the leader with the grey hair chuckled.

"Claimed."

Two voices chimed out at the exact same time. The leader's sleazy voice and another more familiar voice that made your chest hurt with expectancy. You had waited. Hoped. Dreamed. Hell you even dared to pray for the day to come again where you'd hear your love's sweet voice again. But not here. Not now. Not looking down the barrel of weapons pointed against you.

The leader turned. Glaring at the man who dared to oppose him. Stepping into the light of the moon Daryl looked... different. Changed. His eyes were distant and dark even in the night. "Daryl..." The leader hummed his scowl melting as he turned to the archer. Tutting slightly he shook his head snapping his fingers the other men moved in on you. Two men grabbed your upper arms, hauling you to your feet while the others grabbed your shit. "C'mon now..." He growled. Giving your boyfriend a look. "Ya know better by now than to try and just claim whatever ya want... specially if ya know I'm gonna claim it." He cooed circling Daryl menacingly.

You had expected Daryl to act. The Daryl you knew would have. He would never have stood there and took the shit these creeps were giving either of you... but this Daryl... this one you knew in passing but never truly met before... he bowed his head. He turned away. He simply murmured something low. Soft. Something you couldn't hear.

The leader nodded eyeing you. His expression morphing. From wolfish and greedy to concentrated and scanning. "A'ight..." He sighed running his hand through his hair. "You gonna let us teach him a lesson?!" One of the men currently bruising your arm screamed. The others rallied behind him. Cheering and jeering they whooped and hollered. The men holding you jerked you back and forth making you stumble back and forth between the two. There was silence and for a moment contemplation on the leader's face that made your heart race. "Search her... Daryl and I got business to discuss." He growled turning around he spun your boyfriend with him grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him into the woods.

They dumped the contents of your bag onto the ground. Screams of "Claimed" ripped through the air and you were certain you'd be overrun by a horde any moment. Ripped apart limb from limb by the dead you had survived for years because of a few fucking morons. When all of your supplies including the bag itself and your rifle and ammo were claimed... the men turned their eyes on you.

"Can't touch 'em til Boss gets back." One chimed in as a particularly greedy one stepped forward. "Yeah... but she got pockets don't she?." The man hummed placing his hands on your waist. The others whistled and hollered once more as you backed away as far as the other two would let you.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" You hissed, baring your teeth to the bastard. Nodding he chuckled following you he grabbed you once more this time burying his hands deep in your pockets, attempting to cop a feel. Rearing your head back you growled and head butted the man landing a blow directly onto his nose. The satisfying crunch it left and the blood that trickled down between your brows onto your cheeks like war paint was proof enough. "I told ya not ta fuckin' touch me!" You screamed.

"Hey!" You heard the leader scream from inside the barrier of the forest. Immerging from the shadows of the trees the leader stormed up to the group with Daryl following behind like a kicked puppy. The one you hit writhed on the ground holding his face he whine and whimpered as the others parted like the sea for the leader who grabbed you by the jaw getting close enough to smell the rancid canned food on his breath. "You really got some fuckin' nerve." He bit out. It took everything in you not to spit in is filthy fucking face.

Standing back up straight the man huffed glaring down at you a glint in his eye you didn't like. "Now boys... as you know Daryl and I both called dibs at the same time..." All eyes on you. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat ready to fight to your last breath. "Now Daryl has made me aware of something very important here... a rule. See he did... in fact... call dibs first. He called dibs Long LONG before he met us. This here... This is his wife."

Wife? You blinked but tried not to look too surprised. Daryl was locking eyes with you. A quiet desperation there only you could see. Keep the act up. Stay strong. You glanced between Daryl and the leader. You felt the man holding your right arm tighten his grip adding another fresh bruise to your bicep. "Bull shit." He growled, his hands slid down your arm to your wrist twisting it back and up painfully so that you yelped out in pain and doubled over. "I don't see a fuckin' ring on her finger!" He yelled.

You heard footsteps. Not one set but two approaching you. "He's right... no ring..." The leader spoke directly above you. His boots shufled to turn towards Daryl's. "But..." He spoke again his boots shifting again as you felt a new calloused hand take your left hand, the promise ring you bore sliding off your ring finger made you feel naked and cold. "You were looking at the wrong hand..." The leader said his voice low and cold. The man holding your right arm released his grip stumbling back. Sitting back up you twisted out of the other man's hands for a second before he took your wrist lightly.

The leader held your promise ring up examining it. Your initials were carved into the inside of the ring. Something Daryl had done himself with his knife back at the prison when he found a set having stolen the idea from Glenn of course. "Teach him a lesson boys." The man grunted out gesturing with his head to the man who shook his head and begged for his life. You stood stock still as the others circled him like sharks to the drops of blood that fell from his face. Even Daryl who's eyes went as dark as the night nodded to the command, picking up something from the ground.

Your vison blurred, all you could see was Daryl's back. Blood splattering. You heard the screaming. Jumping at the hand on your shoulder you looked to the man turning you away from it all. "I haven't properly introduced myself yet." He murmured watching you swipe pink tears from your cheeks. "I'm Joe. I'm the leader of this here group. The Claimers. We don't normally keep women long... They get passed around a bit and then... well we get bored and they end up roaming as one of the other biters." He chuckled eyeing you up. Hyperventalating you shook your head pulling away slightly when you felt his arm wrap around your waist. "Now now," He whispered in your ear. "You're a valued honorary memeber." He cooed but his expression became cold and dark. "That means... you work for what you keep. You start with shit. And half yer shit goes to Daryl. Like in any good marriage." He said menacingly, grabbing your wrist. "Oh and one last thing... I get to taste you one time... just part of the deal Daryl and I worked out to let you live."

Cut between confusion and pain you wondered if all the promises Daryl ever made to keep everyone safe were in vain. Who was he? Was he really the man you met back at the Quarry and fell in love with? No... Probably not... He was different. Changed. Evolved into something different. Looking over your finger as Joe slipped your ring back on your finger you felt sick to your stomach. This Daryl, dripping in another man's blood was animalistic. He was brutal and cold.

That night Joe told everyone to just bunk down in the garage. Safer. He said. You tried to clear your head of the mess of a human corpse outside the metallic walls. Following close behind the others you followed Daryl like a lost puppy. "Claimed" Echoed through the building as all the "good" spots were being taken. But Daryl just stood. He waited out in the open and waited with you by his side. Never once looking at you or acknowledging your existence. "Dar-" You tried to speak but was only ignored as he turned away once everyone went quiet. "Claimed." He yelled out when he found the most secluded spot in the garage behind a tarped tactor.

Pointing to the ground he looked around for a moment, waiting for your to sit on the ground. "Dar-" Shaking his head he knelt pulling a blanket from his bag he tossed it over you. "Here." He muttered. Not looking at you. Never looking at you. He stood and walked back out of the garage.

Even with the wool blanket you felt alone and cold. Even more so than when you were actually traveling alone. You hated it. This feeling of abandonment. Blinking back tears your glared at the ceiling wrapping yourself tight in your blanket you tried to fall asleep.

Hours passed. You hadn't slept. How could you with the men snoring like chainsaws all night. But the door opening and closing quietly didn't go unnoticed. Rolling over you turned to Daryl as he approached you slowly. Kicking his boots by your feet he laid down beside you. Lifting the blanket you welcomed him into the warm environment you created with time. You fully expected him to turn you away. To roll away and huff. But instead he scooted close. pulling the blanket over you both.

His arms were around you in a second. Finding tender blossoming bruises he burried his face in your neck. The wetness of his cheeks stained your dirty shirt. "Thought I lost you." He whispered. "Wasn't gonna let anyone take you... Not..." He went silent pulling you as tight as ever. Happiness and warmth swelled in you. Love and security. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed the top of his head, running your fingers through his wet hair.

Truth be told he still smelled like a wet dog. Musty and damp. But he washed off. Didn't stop you from feeling angry and betrayed. "Daryl... Why did you tell Joe..." You swallowed the doubt that still reigned suprieme and rampaged like a tornado in your mind. "Why did you tell him he could... have me?" There was a moment Daryl was silent. You thought he would lie. He would divert the situation. But instead he pushed himself up on his elbows and cocked a brow. "Never said that." He whispered. "Did that prick say that to ya? Say ya owed him somethin? "He whispered his eyes scanning you worriedly. You nodded slowly watching his reaction. Nodding Daryl hummed. "Ok."

Blinking you tried to read his face in the dark. "O-Ok?" You whispered. Nodding he lowered himself down to your ear. "Can't say out loud what I want to do ta the bastard. Someone could hear." He breathed. "Oh..." You tensed. You eyes instinctively scanning for threats but the dark felt claustrophobic and you wanted to simply run.

You were kicked awake early the next morning. You hadn't even realized you had fallen asleep. Another night of closing your eyes and suddenly jerking awake to danger feeling entirely unrested... Nothing new but you could never get used to it either. "Up an 'em, sweetheart." The man with greasy hair murmured. In the morning light you could see the shiner that was swelling half the man's face. A large cut ran down his forehead to his cheek that in the old world would have required stitches to keep it from scaring but now would just prove as a lesson to the man to listen better in Joe's twisted system. "Waistin' daylight..." He growled once more glaring at your boy- No. Your husband.

Daryl seemed to respond in kind. Huffing at the man he stood with a low painful groan. "Let's go." He murmured softly offering a hand to you.

You followed on Daryl's heels throughout the day like a duckling to their mother. Keeping your eyes on the wings on his back, you tried to stay strong and keep from physically acting on the men who treated you more like an object than a human. "Why you carryin' yer own bag when you got a bitch ta do it fer ya?" The rotund one called, chuckling as you moved to Daryl's left away from him. "No on would blame ya if ya went off and unwound on her for a bit... hell I'd even let the boys have a turn when I was done." One of the men with a beanie called out smirking at you from across the crick you had all stopped at to refill your canteens in. Holding your middle you glared at him. Daryl stood handing you your canteen. Reaching out you caressed his arm to sooth him. You were safe if he was here. He couldn't be if he was hurt or dead. He needed to act rashly.

"Shut up." He hissed despite it all. The Dixon temper was never one that could easily be quelled. When pushed down it only became more explosive. More dangerous. "What did you fucking say to us?" The three men rounded you. "We're just tryin' ta be friendly like." The greasy haired man that woke you growled. "Don't need no friends." Daryl growled stepping up to him. "Daryl." You whispered, reaching out to touch him but decided against it when you saw the crazed look in your husband's eye.

"Enough."

Joe's commanding voice ripped the fight apart before it could start. "Len, go fetch some firewood and scout the area. Got a feeling we could get lucky 'round here. Tony, go sharpen that damned blade of yours it couldn't cut butter if we had any for fuck's sake let alone take a biter down if we needed. Dan, fuck off with Len. Set up a perimiter. Daryl. Go hunting for dinner." Joe gave out orders like it was nothing. But your heart pounded in your chest and and nearly leaped into your throat when he met your throat reaching into his bag to grab something. You watched Daryl closely. Every muscle tense and primed to act in case Joe acted pulling something. His hand snaking to the pistol he had hidden at his back.

"Honey, I need ya ta wash our shit. Our clothes, specially our socks and boxers are really starting to get ripe and chafe us. I think you could handle that much... huh?" He purred walking up to you handing a small bundle of used men's socks and boxers. The smell was horrendous and made bile rise to your throat. You had to force yourself to breath the same way you would in a hot summer day around a horde of walkers to get by. "Ok..." You whimpered nodding. Freezing when you felt his hand on your shoulder you stood stock still. "And, sweetheart..." He hummed, his grip becoming incredibly painful his soft expression turning hard. "It's sir to you... Yes, sir. Say it." Whimpering you tried not to give into him. You didn't fall to your knees or bow as he desperately wanted you to. Instead you turned to glare at him your hair swirling around your, a single tear as his only satisfaction. "Sir, yes, sir." You growl stumbling as he pushed you forward into the water.

Hours passed by. Joe gave you meaningless task after meaningless task. Anything to see you in a compromising position. Scrub his boots. Wash his hair. Wash your hair. Sort their bags. Weave a basket. (Something you didn't know how to do and utterly failed in doing.) When he ran out of tasks to give you he made things up. Jump in place in front of him. He tried to make you bathe in the crick but when you threatened to cut his balls off he laughed and said it was a joke.

"Hey..." Len's voice cut through your newest meaningless task. picking up acorns while Joe watched. Looking over your shoulder you cocked a brow at the man that seemed far too excited to have just been told to fuck off for a few hours. "We found something." Dan muttered. Walking out of the woods with a string of rabbits Daryl glared hard at the ground. You'd seen him through the treeline throughout the course of the day. Taking aim at Joe at certain angles when he was certain the older man wasn't looking. But Joe always laughed or shook his head. "I know your watching Daryl. Go back to hunting." Or a promise of "I won't touch if you don't shoot."

"We found a camp!" Len cheered, pulling you from your thoughts. "A camp?" You breathed without thought. "Hell yeah girl." Joe murmured misreading your concern for excitment and curiousity. Or rather ignoring it completely as he slapped you hard on the back making you drop the acorns you gathered. "Come on let's show our newbie how it's done..." Joe said smiling so much like the devil that when you actually met him years later you'd never believe it.

The camp was small. It only housed two people. A man and a woman. The woman gathered baby supplies on a pink baby blanket before her. Brunette hair caught the wind just so that her face was concealed an you never truly saw her face. The man was undoubtedly in love with the woman. From the distance you hid you swore the couple were Glenn and Maggie. Your heart pounded deep in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and you had to stop the scream that threatened to rip through you.

"We flank from all sides." Joe whispered so low you could barely hear him over the ringing of your ears. "Daryl." He whispered, moving closer to the two of you as the others moved into position. "I want to actually see you in there this time. No late arrivals." He hummed nodding as Daryl grunted in response.

"C'mon." No.

"Darlin'... We need ta move." Daryl whispered. No, God please no.

Your entire body shook, your eyes wide as saucer plates. Moving forward in the brush you only stopped when you felt Daryl's hand on yours. Turning to Daryl fear in your eyes you shook your head. Not again.

Pulling you away into the denser brush as Joe began his speech to the couple you could just barely see the others moving in.

Your body jerked when the screams started. Pulling at Daryl's hand you sobbed hard. "Daryl!" You wailed only to be pulled back his hand covering your mouth so your sobs were muffled. "It ain't them." He whispered. Pulling you incredibly tight you felt him bury his face in the crook of your neck hot tears rolling down your collar bone mixing with your own. "It can't be them."

That night you all slept under the stars. Fire lit and as warm as you could be in the middle of fall you and Daryl were of the first to retire, finding a spot in the dirt to bed down you laid against a large tree your back pulled against him. Just like when you two started dating out on the road. His wool blanket provided enough warmth to the both of you that the ground didn't bother you. Even with the rocks and roots digging into your side.

Just as you started to nod off you jerked awake to the sound of sets of heavy drunken footsteps. Daryl's arm wrapped tight around your middle. pulling you close. The others had found liquor at the camp and indulged heavily in it. Only Daryl and Joe refused to touch it.

"Claimed!" One man screamed loud. Belligerent. The smell of booze stained the air and made your empty stomach turn. "Nuh-uh." Another hissed. "I already claimed that spot." Len... Daryl had told you to watch out for him. He had an issue with claiming what wasn't his. he'd claimed what little food Daryl could get out hunting while on patrol.

"Bull shit!" The other man, you assumed to be Ivan screamed back. "It's true!" You tried to tune them out, squeezing your eyes shut breathing slowly, hoping you and Daryl went unnoticed. But as the fight got worse and worse you couldn't help the way you physically jumped when Tony landed on the ground on his back near by the two of you. Covering your mouth Daryl pulled you tight against his body as the two men rolled onto the wool blanket then off again.

You couldn't sleep after that even if sleep found the two that fought just a few moments ago. Turning to Daryl you buried yourself deep in his chest. "What was the wife thing about?" You got the courage to ask when all was quiet and the snores of the men matched the previous night. Shaking his head Daryl laid back staring at the night sky. He was silent for a moment. Whether he was waiting for a break in the snoring or simply listening for any eave's droppers you'd never know. "Probably shoulda done it a long time ago... just..." His words fell off going silent. Sitting up you captured his eyes in yours. "I love you, Daryl." You whispered. "We'll find them... I promise." But he remained cold. His eyes dark, distant. "Get some sleep."

Time seemed to go in a blur after that. Days and nights melded together. Didn't matter which was which truly. You never felt rested. Your stomach never empty. Daryl attempted to feed you his portions. But as the lowest on the poll he got scraps as it was and you hated taking what he had.

You were tired and underfed when you found Rick, Michonne, and Carl. You had believed that they were just visions when you first saw them. Len held you by the arm. "Gotta make sure she gets in on the action with this one!" He yelled, jerking you around. Wide eyed and in disbelief you gapped like a fish. These people looked just like your family.

"Rick?" You managed. Silence. Joe turned to you his eyes questioning before he gripped you hard. Jerking away you tried to free yourself from his grasp. "Hey! Let her go!" Michonne screamed from the grasp of another man. "Don't you fuckin' touch her!" Carl cried. You nearly wailed out and fell to your knees in pure bliss and euphoria. Hearing their voices. Knowing for a fact they were real. But you were on the ground before you could act. Your face to the pavement you groaned as a boot ground against the back of your skull holding you there. "I've got one free ticket to paradise here boys... why not use it while the pickin's good?" Joe hummed.

You screamed as hands grabbed at you before you could even process the cold pavement below or the screams of your family by your side. Swinging with all your might in any direction you could get a good hold on you connected a few good hits. The yelling from your family was nightmarish. You forced yourself to close your eyes Not wanting to witness or watch what could possibly be happening. Daryl had shielded you last time. Alone you felt vulnerable and terrified.

The boot on your head made your head pound and ache. It was crushing your head and it felt as if your brains would spill if they stepped any harder. Your hair was yanked. Your blouse cut down the back. But before anything else could happen. The person on your head. Joe you believed. Stumbled off. A resounding smacking of knuckles to skin echoing through the woods. Sitting up your shirt slid from your shoulders as you stared wide eyed at Daryl. He had gotten one good swing in. Glancing to you was his downfall. He was dogpiled before he had the chance to say otherwise but the others forgot the knife in your boot. They forgot to check Carl or Michonne in their haste.

Blood pooled on the highway. The five of you stood gasping as one family unit once more, covered in blood but victorious above all odds. Gasping and staring down at the ugly hideous creatures below you, tears rolled down your cheeks. Daryl once again refused to look at you. Instead he offered his vest to you to cover you up with. Instead he turned and glanced to Rick a heartbroken boy staring at a man looking for forgiveness.

You were enveloped by Michonne and Carl before you could say other wise. Not that you would ever pull away ever again. Pulling them close you watched the makeshift brothers share a silent conversation. One guarded and afraid.

The other loving and accepting willing to forgive.

Rick held Daryl tight as he cried and the three of you migrated to them. Hugging them tight you rested your head on Daryl's shoulder, closing your eyes. For the first time since the fall... there was a small flicker of hope.

[poppy-metal]

me being loved wanted and coveted i’m 😳

citygirl!reader cannot relate

ok but hear me out. ofc art finds himself with your grandma’s hand gripping on his elbow as he’s helping her to their seats. he’s wearing a suit too expensive and too stuffy for his taste, but it was laid out for him this morning on his bed. oh did i forget to mention granny and him are staying in the guest wing of your family’s estate?

luckily you’ve been so busy with the wedding preparation you spending almost no time during the day at home, but are night? art is forced to sit at the dinner table with granny, you, your parents, and your fiancé. he doesn’t miss the way the guy holds your hand throughout the entire meal, rubbing his thumb along the back of it, and bringing it up to press soft kisses to. or how his eyes are sole trained on you. or how every sentence that leaves his lips find their way back to you. art is almost disgusted at how enraged he feels at the amount of love your fiancé is showing you because it should be him. and you are shy under your fiancé’s gaze, quick to try to steer the conversation away from you, but you can’t help at how he adores you. and for once in your life, a man loves you (to your knowledge), and you could find yourself making room for him in your heart,,,until a cold splash of reality hits you in the face when art showed up at your front door steps carrying granny’s bag for her. because as much as he hurt you, art donaldson has etched himself a permanent spot in your heart—cowboy hat and all.

i’m also thinking, art doesn’t realize you’re pregnant yet; no one does. but the way he finds out? this is my vision

art ofc has to sit through the wedding, seeing you in a beautiful dress, teary-eyed, exchanging vows and he wants it to be him sooooo bad. so the reception comes around, you’re playing the proper bride/host. art is DOWNING drinks. somehow the two of you end up in the coatroom (empty ofc—idk how they got there yet) and ofc there’s an Emotional exchange (art reiterating that you told him you love him, reader responding that he never says it back, art bringing up the Phone Call—“remember when you asked me if i was happy?” you nod “remember what i said?”—reader saying “what good does that do now?” ofc tears in her eyes “you’re married, i’m married, i’m—“ ofc she was going to say pregnant but drunk art kisses her. they fuck in the coatroom—actually no, art makes love to her on the expensive coats of her wedding guests LMAO bc “he should’ve done it earlier” but he’s noticing these changes about her. bc as a man obsessed with citygirl!reader, art has her body memorized ok, he fantasizes about it every night. her breasts are fuller, she’s more glowing than usual, and her hips feel different to hold. only in their post-sex bliss, and his post-orgasm, it hits him. he pulls away, hissing as he’s been burned, “you’re pregnant”

and he’s seething because it means that bastard came in you and knocked you up (ofc the bastard is your husband, so god-fearing art is in the back of his head going “chill please.”) but then he does the math, and you can’t lie to him so he knows. he’s going to be a father except it’s not with his wife and the mother of his child doesn’t want him. (she does but she’s in her being good era)

they get into a blown out fight ofc and THIS is where art says i love you. and reader is honestly half elated he loves her back but mainly pissed bc his timing can’t be worse and also, “don’t say you love me just because i’m carrying your baby” and art’s trying to articulate that no, he does love her and he couldn’t say it but reader can’t hear it bc it hurts ! too ! much ! to know that she could’ve had him and still can but she can’t hurt her husband nor can she let art hurt his wife so she tells him she doesn’t love him anymore and it’s too late (i cannot make her say she never loved him bc that will bring irreparable damage that i cannot come back from emotionally) and art leaves bc there’s nothing he can do.

reader returns to her wedding party, to her husband’s side where she’s determined to stay. she’ll be the kind loving wife that this man deserves because he loves her without any expectations, conditions, etc.

art returns home with granny to his little farmhouse where his wife awaits with her chaste touches and polite small talk. finding out you’re carrying his child an animalistic urge to breed takes over him, and he’s trying to fuck a baby into his wife every night. but it doesn’t work. no matter how hard he tries, lucy can’t get pregnant, and she’s tired of trying—too heartbroken at the knowledge she can’t give him babies.

the next summer, granny’s health takes a turn for the worse, so she writes you a letter to return to the ranch to help her get everything settled. and bc you’ve become so fond of your grandma—who sends you homemade jams and knitted booties for the baby every few months—you do with your blue-eyed, strawberry blonde baby girl in tow.

- 🤠

you need your ass ate for this

[misguidedasgardian]

The course of Nature, part (2)

First Part

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Negan’s brutality, cursing, implied coercion and kidnapping, mentions of polygamy, (c’mon guys, everything related to Negan in the Sanctuary), talking of periods and pregnancy, thoughts about abortion, sensitive content regarding pro-choice… SMUT, a soft mommy kink, rather pregnancy kink, a little biting and a little blood, Negan being a horny jackass.

might miss some warnings. 

TWD Era: Alexandria, Negan Era, (season 7) 

Notes: Seeing Negan saying, “Oh my, look at this little Angel!” and grabbing Judith from her crib did something to me, and here it is 

“Why don’t you want to be my wife?” he asked her, amused 

“Negan, I know you are like a rabbit or a jackass… you are horny and you hump the first thing you see, but I’m like a cool Eagle, or a wolf… I mate for life” she answered simply. And it was so clever he wasn’t even mad, he chuckled darkly watching her intently, hoping to burn the shape of her body and her face in his mind forever

“You are acting like someday I’m going to get bored of you and just let you leave” he whispered in her ear. He felt her getting nervous, the small hairs on the back of her head standing to attention and goosebumps in her arms. But still she acted like he didn’t cause her incredible fear.

“You might” she whispered

“Believe me, I will not” he answered back 

You didn’t want to have anything to do with the other wives of Negan, really, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you didn’t want to make friends, you just wanted to stay in your room and most importantly, stay fucking alive and not make it worse for your friends in Alexandria

But…   

When weeks passed and you didn't get your period. You were quickly losing your mind

It was hard to keep track of the calendar in the fucking zombie apocalypse. All the electronics went to shit… but you guessed that outside in some place of the sactuary, someone might have a fucking clue.

Your period was like a swiss watch, you were never late, it was like clockwork, so you had a sense of when it was coming, so now, you left your room looking frantically for a calendar, or something 

The wives seemed surprised to see you, but somehow relieved, since he took you, Negan never left your side, he didn’t spend the night with any of them, you thought they’d be angry, or jealous, but the looks on their faces told you they were grateful, and relieved.

Even though Negan was proud to say he had killed rapists and didn’t tolerate the awful act, he did use coercion to get what he wanted, he used it on you, and probably all of them as well. Yes he did give them a choice but… “Be my wife or I’ll bash yours or your boyfriend's brains” didn’t seem much of a choice to you.

“Hey, we have been wanting to meet you” only two of them approached you, a redhead, and a smaller girl, with dark hair and and bangs, “I’m Frankie, this is Tanya”

“(Y/N)” You answered, “Sorry I was hiding in my room” you explained 

“It’s understandable” she drew an apologetic smile. There was an awkward silence, in which they expected you to say something, and all the way around

“I was wondering…” you started, “if any of you had a calendar, or something… a way to tell what day it is?” you explained. They all looked at eachother. The one you knew her name was Frankie took your hand softly and led you to the wall where there was this old calendar

“It’s the 17th” she said softly. You just nodded, confirming your fears, you were late, two fucking weeks late. You drew a shaky breath, tears burning the back of your eyes.

“Shit” you whispered, debating internally if you should share your fears or not

“What’s going on?” she asked you, “you can tell us”

“Yeah” a blonde one that seemed a little out of it also came close to you, “we are so grateful to you” she whispered with a reassuring smile, “For… distracting him…”

“I’m late” you choked out. You heard them gasp loudly, “I don’t know… I’m two weeks late and I feel like shit, I’m probably…”

“pregnant” murmured the blonde one 

Frankie must have known how you felt. Maybe they all did. She placed her soft hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and it worked. You draw a shaky breath, wiping the tears with the back of your hand

“What is he going to do?” you asked, “Is he going to… push me down the stairs or something?”

“We don’t know” she whispered, “we are the ones that take care of it” she explained, “he had never express his want to… have kids”

“He is the one that makes sure we use contraceptives” the black haired woman said

“I’ll go with you to the doctor” Frankie said, and you just nodded, “It’s the only way to be sure”. grabbing the hand she offered you tightly, and under the sad eyes of all of Negan’s wives, you left the room.

“I’m terrified” you murmured, when you came face to face with a man you knew they called Fat Joey

“Hey joey” greeted Frankie, and he eyes you both suspiciously

“Negan wouldn’t want you to walk alone” he said, “specially if you are terrified” you wanted to swallow your own words

“We are fine, Fat Joey” Frankie muttered

“Let me escort you” you squeezed her hand, but he walked behind you silently in your journey to the doctor’s office 

You managed to shake him off of you in the consult, you closed the door on his face.

“Good morning ladies, what can I do for you?”, this doctor gave you the creeps, but he was the only one around so…

Frankie gave you a reassuring smile, nodding, so you turned to the doctor

“I think I’m late”, you whispered, he looked at you and nodded

“Very well, I have a pregnancy test you could take”

It was the most uncomfortable 5 minutes of your entire life, and you were living in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, go figure

It took less than 10 minutes for the two lines to appear, and you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Frankie didn’t say anything, neither did you, but she hugged you tightly and you hugged her back

“Everything is going to be alright, it’s still early”, she whispered sweetly in your ear, caressing your hair, you only nodded, it was true, it was only a couple of weeks… Frankie looked at the doctor

“Is there anything you could give her?”, she asked. The doctor looked at you and then at her. 

“No”

“That’s a lie”, she accused

“Yes”, he said simply

“You have to do something!” you demanded, “Give me something…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything without Negan’s permission” 

“WHAT?” you argued, “It’s my body…”

“It’s Negan’s baby” he said seriously, “I can’t do anything or give you anything without him knowing” He perfectly could, but he had clear instructions from Negan, and he valued his own life more than yours. 

. . .

Negan knew something was wrong when he passed the lounge where his wives were and they all looked at him in terror.

Did someone die?

Did someone escape? or tried to?

He hadn't punished someone publicly this week, so he knew this wasn’t that. And if someone actually had died, betrayed him or escaped, he would have known by now, so, what was it? He looked directly at Frankie, she averted her gaze, but her eyes looked at the wall to the right. He just nodded, silently, and kept walking until he found himself at your door. He knocked twice, but you didn’t answer, so he just went in.

He found you with your back turned to the door, in a fetal position on the bed 

“Hey sunshine” he greeted carefully, and he saw you flinch. You turned, slowly, and he was surprised to see you crying. Did you find out about all the things he had done in Alexandria? No, impossible, “What is going on?” he asked, you were there, in front of him, so you didn’t tried to scape, and you didn’t kill anyone so he wondered what got you so fucking scared of him right now

“I’m sorry” you whispered, “Negan” you called, “I love you” oh how much he could have given to hear you say those words, but the way you say them, it was desperate, you sounded like Amber, you didn’t mean it, in fact, you wanted to calm him down

“What is going on?” he repeated the question, harder this time, making you flinch raising your shoulders and trying to hide between them 

“I’m pregnant” you whispered, you dropped the revelation and then you wanted to bend over your own body to protect yourself from him, and that is what kind of broke him. “I’m sorry”

Of all the reactions he may had that you played in your mind, him chuckling and smiling widely wasn’t one of them 

“You are not mad?” you asked back, and he shook his head

One of the most scary things about Negan is that he was totally unpredictable, you could never guess what’s coming 

In one scenario he grabbed you by the arm and threw you down the stairs, and then made sure to beat you up until there was nothing left inside of you. In another he’d let the doctor get his hands on you, but you never, ever, thought he’d be happy about it

“Aw honey, this is wonderful news!” you jumped when he yelled that, opening his arms in celebration, he never stopped looking at you, “An heir!” he continued, “A little savior, a little Negan or Lucille” you shook in your place when he called his deceased wife’s name

And suddenly, you were more scared.

“A little Lucille?” you muttered, he had told you everything about his late wife, and the thought he might be using you to relive some weird fantasy chilled your bones. Suddenly you felt your eyes wet with tears, and not being able to stop them, fat, bitter tears started running down your cheeks, “No…” you whined. His face dropped when he saw how you started to lose it, you started to hyperventilate 

“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to relax”

“You have to talk to the doctor, so he’ll give me something…” you tried to explain

“Why would I do that, baby?” he asked

“I can’t have your baby” you whined, wiping your tears

“Why the hell not?” he asked, this time his face became so serious so fast you shook in fear

“Negan…” you called, expecting him to understand, “please” he softened his gaze on you, with his gloved hand he caressed your cheek as he smiled sweetly at you, but that didn’t calm you, he was unpredictable and you’ll do well in remembering that. He leaned in and kissed you softly, gently, as he was scared of breaking you

“You are going to be an amazing mother sweety” he whispered against your lips and you only whined, “anything you want, everything is yours!” he announced, standing up, “I’ll tell all of them, to bring you anything you could need” 

“You are going to let me carry this baby?” you asked

“Of course”, he said simply

“Please Negan”, you whispered, “I can’t bring a child into this world”

“It will have hundreds of people that will take care of him”, he said, “we are in the sanctuary baby”

“Negan please”, you begged, he just say on the edge of the bed, cradling your face with his big hands

“This a good thing baby”, he whispered, leaning in and catching your lips with his

“Negan”, you whined against his lips

“You are going to be such a good mommy”, he purred, abandoning your lips and going down your throat with heated open kisses

And you snapped out of your hornyness, you grabbed his face and pushed him off of you

“Darling..!”

“Fuck off Negan!”, you grunted, but your heated face told him your resolution wouldn’t last long, you were as horny as he was. He smiled wickedly

He knew he had chosen well, you were going to protect that baby with your life, your lioness instincts already kicking in 

“C’mon mommy”, he purred, “come to daddy”

“I hate you”, you said, with no conviction in your voice

“No you don’t”

And perhaps that is what was so messed up about all of this

You were scared to death, yes, but you were also… excited

And Negan could see that

He approached you again and held you in his arms, he leaned in and again he kissed you. It was soft at first but then it turned heated, you grabbed him roughly, pulling on the hairs on the back of his neck making him grunt needily

“You like it rough, don’t you?”, he mocked, you didn’t want to talk, you just took his leather jacket and threw it on the floor caresly

Another day he would have make a big fuss about it, but today he knew better

“he leaned over you, wanting to pin you down to the bed, but you didn’t let him, instead you managed to pin him down, straddling him 

“Oh baby”, he purred, “or should I say… mommy?”

“Shut up”, you growled, leaning in and kissing him roughly. he immediately responded with teeth and licks of his own, but as you separated from him, you bit his lower lip until blood came up 

He whined under you, not pained but horny and almost pathetic, you grind your hips against his own, feeling his cock hardening between you, giving you goosebumps

“Hormones?”, he teased, but you shushed him up, you wanted him, you needed to feel him, you needed to distract yourself from everything that has happening

You almost ripped his pants off of him, making him chuckle, setting himself comfortably on the bed, you stood up to toss your own pants away from you, and then you crawled back over him. HIs greedy hands tossed your upper clothes, and finally he had you naked all to himself. You leaned in and kissed him roughly

“Yes mommy”, he teased, and you couldn’t help but slap him, not hard, and he only smiled wickedly, “I loved this side of you baby”, he purred, placing his hands on your hips

“You are so fucking mean Negan”, you accused, “you misogynistic prick!”, but you couldn't stay angry at him, you leaned in and kissed him before he could make some snarky remark. He responded at the kiss immediately, his greedy hands caressing you all over he could, your thighs, your sides, your hips. You rubbed your pussy against his hard cock, and you couldn’t help it anymore, you needed him.

You used your hand to pumped his thick cock a few times, before impaling yourself with it

“Fuck!”, you cursed at the same time, perhaps Negan was so attracted to you because you both sounded alike sometimes

You started riding him angrily, almost like you wanted to hurt him, but that turned him on even more. You started moving your hips back and forth. and the friction in your clit almost made you loss it

“FUCK THAT’S IT BABY”, he whined, and you gasped, feeling your orgasm build incredibly quickly

“I hate you”, you cried when you cummed

“I know”, he whispered, entertained, letting you fuck him for once, admiring the goddess riding him.

But you rode him until you cummed again, finally making him finish inside of you.

You let yourself fall on top of him, as you both recuperated, he just held you, caressing your naked back

“I mean it”, he gasped

“What?”, you asked back

“I will do anything to protect you”, he promised, “I leave Rick alone, I promise, you will be a great mother, I really believe that”, you smiled, not letting him see it, of course.

. . .

“Arat” the girl was on his side on a second, that determined look in her eyes that Negan liked so much, “If something happens to me… “ he started, and she frowned, like he just spoke treason, “If this world is fucked up and for reason I fucking die and Rick the prick is still alive I want you to do something for me, ok?”

“You want me to kill him Sir?” she asked, and he chuckled

“No, I want you to take (Y/N) to him” he whispered, “without me controlling everything she is in danger, I want you to make sure she comes back to her people”

Damn, being a father does change you and your priorities 

He thought with a smirk on his face and a swing of his bat

TAGLIST @neganswoman @nijiru @imvomitting @aleemendoza2425-blog @0vecam @heavenhatesme

[silverzoomies]

hello !!! i was just wondering if you think there are any other bands peter would like besides nirvana, pink floyd, and rush ?? he gives me classic rock (& just rock in general) vibes tbh !!

anon you just opened up a can of worms !!

i once did extensive research into this. way more than anyone should for a character way past his relevance. and i'm still discovering new tunes i think he'd be into all the time !! i'll try not make this long winded (it will be). but for now...

🎶👾 peter maximoff's (potential) favorite tunes 👾🎶

we already know pink floyd, rush, and nirvana are included. they're shown through the shirts he wears !!

rush is a major one. because unlike the other two, apocalypse era peter has rush all around him !! the rush posters in his basement. the leg cast with "i luv rush." it's safe to say he's kind of a rush fanboy (and he's so real for that because rush is rad as hell).

i have a list of bands/artists i can confirm he canonically likes, as they've been referenced before. whether it be through background clues (posters, background music, etc), or because they were explicitly mentioned by people involved in making the films.

🎶 yardbirds 🎶 the doors 🎶 led zeppelin 🎶 buffalo springfield 🎶 alice cooper 🎶 jim croce 🎶 neil diamond

and while we know he listens to eurythmics (sweet dreams), i don't necessarily include them as a band. just because i personally feel this has less to do with the artist, and more about whatever was mainstream in 1983 (but you can choose to include them if you want !! after all, people mostly listened to whole albums back then).

peter definitely enjoys rock overall. but he doesn't seem averse to mainstream pop either. so we can probably assume he'll listen to anything, as long as it's catchy !!

here's some bands/artists we can assume he likes based on what we already know:

🎶 jimi hendrix 🎶 cream 🎶 the beatles 🎶 fleetwood mac 🎶 queen 🎶 david bowie 🎶 tom petty 🎶 ac/dc 🎶 bon jovi 🎶 journey 🎶 guns n roses 🎶 the eagles 🎶 joan jett & the blackhearts 🎶 deff leppard 🎶 tears for fears 🎶 michael jackson

and if there's some other classics i missed (from the 60's/70's/80's) you think he might like - please feel free to drop me an ask !! i'd love to add more to the list !!

lastly, i'm gonna drop some bands/artists i personally like to think he might listen to. mostly because it's fun to imagine so:

🎶 iggy pop 🎶 bee gees 🎶 thin lizzy 🎶 toto 🎶 a flock of seagulls 🎶 elton john 🎶 u2 🎶 redbone 🎶 madonna (i 100% believe it, you can't convince me otherwise) 🎶 pearl jam 🎶 radiohead 🎶 red hot chili peppers 🎶 green day 🎶 my chemical romance 🎶 beastie boys 🎶 smash mouth 🎶 nickelback (fight me, i dare you)

if you're looking for any specific songs, there's a really awesome playlist i listen to religiously. chai_vibes's "songs peter maximoff would unironically listen to" is so peak !! and i'll go ahead and drop my own peter maximoff playlist too, just because i worked really hard on it !! lol

happy listening !! thanks for hearin' me out !!

[demonicbaby666]

To Feel You

One Shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Smut

Words: 1.2k+

Warnings: sad sex, fingering (r!receiving), isolation, depression (super lovely warnings, I know…)

A/n: what’s sexier than regular sex? Sad sex w tears and crippling emotions involved because I’m still in my angst era (:

One would think after weeks spent in the company of loneliness and random mind-numbing activities, a familiar face would be welcomed. One would think. 

But it’s an interesting situation to be put in when the mere idea of another person seems to bring only terror and fright. It is not because you fear being harmed. No no. It is quite the opposite. Being cared for is, in this situation, the most frightening thing to face. 

What if you can’t be cared for? What then? Are you to be left alone again? Only this time, knowing all hope of feeling a semblance of peace, has been shattered under the palm of a kind soul that has never possessed the power to hurt you? 

It is an odd thought indeed. That care can harm. 

And so, when the inevitable phone call came, you watched the screen light up and listened to the ringtone ripple through the quiet until ‘missed call’ appeared moments later. 

Not even two minutes had passed before knocking came from the front door; knowing who it was, you ignored the persistent knocks. She’d let herself in by her means. Purple smoke filled the hallway, and Regina appeared. Her eyes darted around, trying to locate you, until they landed on your bedroom door. 

You stood there, unmoving and staring at Regina expectantly. 

“Can I help you?” you asked with a raised brow and an unamused smile. 

“No. You don’t get to do this,” Regina started, already getting fired up and walking over to you, “you don’t get to push me away.” 

“That's ironic coming from you.” It was a low blow, you knew it was, but it was all you could do to get her to leave, “I don’t want you here.” 

The silence that fell over the room was not a welcome one. It differed from the kind you often found yourself sitting in simply because you weren’t alone now. There was someone in front of you, and she was staring at you with so much determination in your eyes you swore you would die on the spot if the quiet didn’t eat you up first. 

“Screw it,” Regina whispered. She surged forward, placing her hands on either side of your face and closing the space between your lips. 

You wanted to fight the warm feeling in your stomach, reject it, and wholeheartedly believe you’d be okay with throwing whatever this was away. You knew you couldn’t, and so you gave in. 

Her lips were soft, and the kiss slow. There was no intention for things to escalate more than Regina needing you to know she wasn’t going anywhere. Despite that, you wanted more. Your hands went straight to the buttons of her blouse, practically ripping them off in an effort to feel her as quickly as possible. 

“Slow down,” she whispered in your ear, placing her hand over the one on her exposed chest and moaning at the open-mouthed kisses you began to drop all over her neck, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please.” It was all you could say to express how badly you needed this. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to divulge everything that had been going on in your head. You only wanted to feel something real, something tangible to hold onto at a time when everything was out of grasp, “Please.” 

Regina understood. She guided you both into the bedroom and quickly undressed you, kissing and caressing every inch of your skin once revealed. Slowly, she pushed you back onto the soft sheets before crawling over your naked body. 

Your leg wrapped around her waist, instinctively needing to feel more of her, and Regina brought her hand down to hold it firmly.  

“I want you.” you breathed onto her lips. 

“I know. I’m right here,” she muttered, placing a hand between your thighs and tracing a finger through your wetness, “Is this what you want?” 

Her tone did not suggest she had asked the question sexually; she genuinely wanted to know. She needed to know whether she was doing the right thing, and the vulnerability that shone in her eyes as she looked down on you told you as much. Your heart shattered in your chest, knowing she’d do anything at this moment to help, and the pain only intensified the more her gaze fixated on you.

“Inside. I want your fingers inside me,” you told her after a short pause, guiding her fingers to your entrance. 

The moment two fingers entered you, whimpers joined Regina’s deep breaths. You felt her fill you perfectly, and suddenly, the world came crashing down. It was as though the reality of pushing Regina away, pushing everyone away, had dawned on you now you had her close. You never wanted to let her go again. 

Regina’s fingers began to pump in, and out of you, she kept the pace easy, and each time she slid in and out, she did so gently, making the moment that much more real. You felt alive. For the first time in weeks, you felt present. And it hurt like a bitch. 

The tears in your eyes stung, and Regina saw them too, stilling her fingers, “Am I hurting you?” 

“No, don’t stop,” you sobbed, “I need to feel you right now.” 

There was some hesitation before Regina started moving her fingers again. She remained gentle, which made it all the more painful and intimate, leading you to cry harder. 

“Come here,” she whispered. Kissing you softly, she removed her grip on your thigh and intertwined her fingers between yours. 

You gripped onto her for dear life, pulling her naked body down by the back of her neck as though you could never have her close enough. Your bare bellies kissed, sweat mixed together with each thrust of Regina’s fingers inside you, and your skin burned hotter. 

Soon enough, the kiss became unmanageable. With moans, whines, and sobs being prioritized, Regina moved downwards to your neck. Each kiss was so tender and heartfelt that you felt it in your gut. Her own tears were felt on your neck before she’d kiss, suck and lick them away, marking the spots of her salted devotion with plum and maroon. The following day, you’d find them and weep. 

The tension growing in your stomach was cresting, and with your breathing coming out in bursts, Regina knew this. She also knew what she had to do. Angling her hand slightly, she curled her fingers and pressed her thumb to your clit, applying enough pressure to tip you over the edge. 

It wasn’t like any other orgasm you’d had. Of course, it was still amazing, but it meant so much more. Regina’s hand squeezed yours tighter as she pulled back, looking down at you with tears in her eyes and a weak smile on her lips. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Let go.” She muttered. 

Your body went slack for milliseconds before spasms overtook it, you managed to grind down on Regina’s moving hand, drawing out the entire length of your orgasm until your pussy felt like it was on fire, and you had to move away. Regina slowly removed her fingers. Still tender, you let out a small whine. 

She lay beside you, lightly pulling on your hand to get you to roll over and embrace her, which you did. Hair tickled her bare chest, but she didn’t mind because she wanted to keep you close, and she’d do anything to ensure she could. 

That night she stayed awake, running her hands through your hair and watching your chest rise and fall, promising herself that she’d never lose you, no matter how hard the fight would be.

Tags: @babygirlscout @7thavenger @five-bi-five-mind @supercorpstan97 @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @summoned-lust-demon @leomonkeys | click here to be added to my tag list

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

In Blood and Tears, a Thousand Times

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

Setting: Paris (TWD:DD era)

Warnings: SPOILERS, descriptions of violence and torture

Summary: You were doing just fine before the end of the story.

A/N: This was requested by someone whose name wont come up for me when I try to tag!

*gif is not mine

Once again… SPOILERS BELOW

The moment the first punch was thrown, you knew where this was going. Isabelle stood beside you, her posture tense. 

“Isabelle.” You tried, but she shook her head when your hand touched her shoulder. Even though she flinched when the second punch connected, you lowered your hand and stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest. As disturbing as it was, you loved watching Daryl work. 

“Y’know, where I grew up, there was this little boy.” The archer began, walking away from Armand. He turned back a moment later and continued. “Lived down the street. His name was Jimmy. Jimmy was a runt.”

He turned toward some sort of utility shelf, examining some of the things inside. “They always picked on Jimmy fer bein’ so little.” You couldn’t see what it was exactly that he pulled out, but he turned it in his hands. “His dad—his dad was a drunk.” When he turned around, he met your eyes then Isabelle’s. “I don’t think I ever saw that guy sober.” 

He put that item down and opted for another, his fingers sliding along the pointed tip. “One Christmas, Jimmy got a piglet as a present.” Daryl seemed satisfied with his find, fiddling with it as he turned back to Armand. “It used to follow him around like a little dog.” You glanced at the bound man and found him looking smug but the fear in his eyes was evident. 

‘You should be afraid, my dude. You should be.’ You thought, gaze flicking back to Daryl. 

The archer circled around to the front of the chair, pacing calmly. “Even waited for him after school. And then one Christmas, ‘is dad says he wants him to kill the piglet an’ eat it for church dinner.”

Your brow furrowed. You’d been with Daryl for years now, and this story was not one you had heard. Maybe you could ask him later, but you had an inkling of who “Jimmy” really was. Before you could blink, Daryl moved. It was a quick attack, two stabs to the midsection with what appeared to be a screwdriver. 

Isabelle flinched hard while Armand screamed, but your eyes remained on Daryl while he examined the now bloody tool. 

“Says if he doesn’t do it, his brother’s gonna get a beatin’. So, he takes the piglet, ties it up to a tree in the backyard.” His eyes are boring into his captive, waiting for any sign of surrender. “He wants to make it quick an’ painless.” You found yourself starting just as hard as Isabelle when Daryl dove in for three more quick punctures. “Thing is, by Jimmy not tryin’ to hurt the pig, he ends up hurtin’ him worse.”

You stepped up to stand side by side with Isabelle, your shoulder brushing against hers. It was obvious that this was all disturbing to her. She had never lived like you and Daryl had been forced to since the turn. You’d seen this side of your partner before, but this wasn’t who Daryl was. It was a mask he had to wear to survive. He didn’t enjoy this. Neither did you. 

In front of you, Armand groaned and whimpered, but said nothing. So, Daryl continued. 

“Stabbed it in the belly, in the back, in the legs, ‘til it just bled out. And that pig screamed all night long. All the neighbors heard it.” Daryl threw up his hands, bringing the story to a close. “No one ever fucked with Jimmy anymore.”

The cackle left your mouth before you had a chance to stop it, earning a shocked look from Isabelle and an exasperated one from Daryl. Even as you covered your mouth, you continued to giggle. It wasn’t funny, but god, was it funny! Only Daryl could tell a story so intense and end it like that. It made you miss the old days, back at the Greene farm. But now was not the time for that. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and schooled your features, face relaxing and going deadpan. Your partner raised an eyebrow at you and you responded with a nod, immediately hiding a smile behind your hand when he looked away. 

Daryl shook his head as he walked behind Armand and slammed the weapon onto a table. Before he could go any further, Isabelle stepped forward, speaking to the man in French. Armand answered in kind, panting through the words as Daryl rounded back with something else in his clutches. Isabelle looked to Daryl then to you and back to Daryl. 

“He’s using Laurent to get to me.”

Daryl’s demeanor changed, concern radiating from his eyes. “Well, we can’t go through the front door. There’s gotta be another way in.”

Isabelle looked back to the bleeding man, her expression stern as she asked him something you couldn’t understand. Armand shook his head, breathing hard as he answered. You didn’t need to know the language to know he didn’t say what she wanted to hear. 

And neither did Daryl. 

“I think ya might wanna leave.” He rasped, staring at the man. “‘less ya wanna hear this pig scream.”

You hid yet another smile behind your hand. Why the fuck was this so funny? Clearing your throat, you stepped forward and gently grasped the other woman’s forearm. “Come on, Isabelle.” She shook her head. 

“I’ll stay.”

Daryl looked between the two of you before nodding and heading back to the pile of tools and junk. He tossed what he had been holding down with a clang and picked up a thick metal rod. Isabelle paled, her breathing picking up. You gave her arm a squeeze as Daryl prepared to continue his interrogation. 

Armand began to rattle off at Isabelle and you hoped it was the information you needed. Not because it particularly bothered you that an asshole was getting what he deserved but because you apparently couldn’t hold a straight face through it!

The nun looked at Daryl. “He knows a way in. It’s dangerous but he can draw us a map.”

The archer looked back and forth between Isabelle and Armand. “We don’t need a map. We’ll take him with us.” He walked past Isabelle and placed the metal on the table, glancing at you and jerking his chin toward the corner. With a sigh, you shuffled over. “The hell was that?”

“What? It was funny!” 

“Ya think torturin’ a man is funny” He deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes. “No. I think you telling a story about a boy and his pig while torturing a man is funny.” You’d ask him about ‘Jimmy’ later. Daryl shook his head, smirking at you while patting you on the cheek. 

“You’re twisted.”

“You knew it when you chose this, Dixon. You’re stuck with me.”

[alkaline-wtr]

Coming Home

gn!reader Description: Your military husband surprisingly comes home from his deployment early. Genre/Warnings: Ghost x reader, Soap x reader, König x reader, fluff, headcanon WC: 496

My Masterlist

AN** Now that J-hope is gone, I am in my Military wife era.

GHOST:

As you step into the living room from the hallway, you're surprised by the looming dark figure standing before you. Your heart jumps in your chest, but then you recognize the white, contrasting skull pattern across the black fabric of the balaclava the man standing across from you wears.

Ghost was home, and every nerve in your body went into overdrive. You wanted to run and hug him. To kiss him, but you don't.

You and Ghost had always agreed to slowly build up physical contact to keep his PTSD at bay and avoid triggering him. It took patience, sometimes, but it was worth it.

Ghost holds your eye for a moment longer, then takes a long stride across the room and grabs you by the shoulders.

This unexpected gesture surprises you, but as he wraps his arms around you and buries his nose in your neck, tears well in your eyes. You're overcome with joy, not just because Ghost was home, but because he trusted you enough to embrace you without any thought.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding each other in silence.

SOAP:

Sitting at the bar, you sigh, staring at the crystal glass of amber liquid. A figure leans on the bar beside you and asks the bartender for a beer.

You ignore the person as they're served their drink.

“Is this seat taken?” The voice asks.

“No,” You reply.

You pick up the glass and take the last sip, and then the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. It was that voice, and it was familiar.

You snap your head around, and the figure stands there, leaning sideways on the bar with his beer in hand.

He had that stupid little smile on his face. He looks at you. Your eyes are wide with shock.

"Soap?" You ask. Your voice is quiet.

“I’m home!”

He sang, his hands pointed outwards as if to present himself. You jump off the barstool and hug his neck.

Soap laughed, relishing in the scent of your shampoo.

KONIG:

You were at the grocery store, talking to the cashier while she rang up your purchases. You were listening to the 'blip' of the scanner as you fumbled through your wallet for a debit card. When your gaze returned to the cashier, frozen in place, her face filled with fear as she stared blankly at a spot above you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Your stomach dropped as you slowly turned around. A tall, mountainous man was standing over you, staring down at you through the makeshift sniper hood over his head.

"You're here!" You exclaimed, breaking the moment of silence.

You dropped the wallet and jumped into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and he hugged you tightly, rocking you back and forth while you clung to him excitedly.

"I've missed you so much, mein liebling," he said in a thick accent that was music to your ears.

[kryptonitejelly]

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜ with flyboy!jake please 🥹

from this list. with flyboy!jake. argh, there are 10000000 scenarios i can cook up for this but here is one that has been in my head for a while. in the flyboy era itself, pre them getting together (we don’t have enough of these moments!)

also readable on its own!

-

Your eyes are glued on the television screen, watching as the main character traipses through the house. You can’t tear your gaze away, but the pillow which you are clutching to the front of your chest, eyes peeking out from behind of is telltale of just how terrified you are. It is irrationality at its finest, you know it is coming, the theatrical jump scare, but when it happens it will frighten you all the same.

You huddle further into Jake’s side, as much more as you are able given how snugly tucked into his side you already are, and you feel his arm tighten itself around you. With your gaze so focused on the television screen, you miss the way he glances down at you with a smile that is equal parts fond and amused.

He glances back to the screen in time for the jump scare, the face of the fictional demon filling the screen in a sudden swoop. Jake barely twitches, because having your life hang between the balance of life and death every mission you fly alters your perception of fear. He heard a yelp from you, as you clutch the pillow closer to your chest, all while turning to bury your face into the crook between his chest and arm. The action causes his arm to fall more fully around you, engulfing you in a hold against him. Jake relishes in the feel of your body against his because nothing else feels so right.

He glances back at the screen before chuckling and squeezing you towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he says, laughter tinging his voice. He doesn’t say anything further, but receives a response from you, your voice muffled.

“It’s scary,” your voice is a petulant sulk, and it only makes Jake chuckle in response, the sound a rumble flowing through his chest.

“I’ll fight your demons for you,” Jake says it jokingly, but also means it, and you finally lift your head to look at him. You being engulfed in his embrace, pressed up against his body means that the proximity between your face, looking up to him, and his, looking down at you, is almost negligible. You can’t remember the last time you had been in such close proximity to Jake - sure, you had always been (physically) closer than normal friends; but in the years after college and rolling into adulthood, the intensity of that closeness was something that existed along a scale - physical closeness turned up when you both weren’t properly seeing anyone, and tampered down when you both were.

The movie goes forgotten and you almost forget to breathe as you stare into sharp green orbs that stare right back at you, holding your gaze steady, almost piercing into your soul.

“Sweetheart,” Jake starts again, arm still firm around you. You can feel his breath, minty and cool, fan across your face, “your heart is beating so fast right now,” he can feel it, hammering in your chest, the quick staccato something he can feel even from his hand being wrapped around your back.

His statement causes your eyes to widen but Jake doesn’t slacken his hold on you. His gaze remains locked on yours, his breathing steady. In another time, one where you were still dating Dan, you might have pulled away. Your eyes flicker to Jake’s lips just briefly, but you choose instead to let your head drop back, forehead landing on his chest and the bottom half of your face smushed against the pillow you are still clutching between you and Jake. Jake doesn’t miss the glance you cast towards his lips and it makes something in his sternum twitch.

“It’s the movie,” you groan into the pillow, your words only telling a half truth as green eyes and red lips swirl around in your mind. It earns a hearty laugh from Jake that rings out, a stark contrast against the scream from the television. You feel lips graze the crown of your head as fingers skim along your back in a soothing motion. The action sends a tingle down your spine that digs deep into the core of you, and you find yourself having to fight any outward expression of emotion.

“Want me to rewind?” Jake asks to a nod from you which he identifies through the movement of your head which remains firmly planted on his chest and the pillow. One would think from the way you had hidden yourself that you wouldn’t want to continue the movie - but of course Jake knew better.

“Alright,” your body follows his as he manages to stretch forward to reach for the remote before rewinding the movie to the exact part from which you had left off, “gotta look up princess.” Jake says as he gives you a squeeze, his arm still firmly secured around your body.

“Watching,” you hiss as your head darts up, eyes fixed on the television screen, one side of your face still smushed against Jake’s chest. You miss the most fleeting of looks he gives you, eyes darting quickly down towards your face.

Jake finds himself thinking that he never wants to let you go.