#scud drabbles

[scudslut]

18+, mdni

scud is such a little slut i can’t.

this man cannot get enough head from you. and i mean anywhere, anytime, any place, doesn’t matter. blade could be right around the corner and he’d still be whimpering in your ear trying to keep quiet as he ruts into you, “baby please, need you so bad.”

he’s horny 24/7 and is absolutely not afraid to beg for it; honestly likes to be a pathetic, whiny mess for you. he’ll shamelessly get down on his knees, pleading like the greedy boy he was.

“come on baby, i’ll be so good for ya, just need to feel those pretty lips. do you know how good you make me feel?” and how could you possibly say no to your sweet, needy man? you’ll play hard to get for sure, but when it came down to it, you wanted him down your throat just a bad as he did. you loved how vocal he got. when he became a twitching and overstimulated mess beneath you. you’d suck him past his orgasm, even when he had to hold himself back from pushing you off, his overused, and oh so sensitive cock screaming at him to stop, but he liked it, and you knew that. “fuck, that’s so good mommy,” he’d weep, tears threatening to spill down his flushed cheeks

of course, he’d always return the favour with ample enthusiasm (and skill), he was greedy but certainly not selfish. he’s just as big a fein of eating you out, could do it till the sun rose and you both passed out, so high and fucked out you’d fall asleep still naked, in a heap of tangled limbs.

and god he loved when you’d wake him up later, lips kissing and licking him out of his stoned slumber. your lips wrapping around his weeping tip as you watched him moan and whine nonsense into the hazy, afternoon air. he wouldn’t even open his eyes at first, just grab your cheek gently, coaxing you to take him deeper. “oh shit baby, your so fucking good to me. mhm, just like that.”

you never felt used, you loved to treat your man. after all, you were just as slutty as he was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

— god i’m such a whore for him, BYE

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Druggie vampire Scud who has you stuff youe face with Krispy Kremes while he takes whatever drug's on the menu that day just before feeding time.

The drugs won't work when there's no fresh blood in his system so he takes them just before he feeds off your extra sweet and sugary blood.

[dix0nvix3n]

Would you guys be able to send me any thoughts you have about Daryl in my asks? Just any thoughts you have about him that I could turn into blurbs or potential full fics. I think I have 5 wips of actual fics I haven't touched in a while, I legit just can't finish anything. It takes me so long to write and I also have my series I want to write but I wanna be able to get more content out and share my ideas and just blurbs and drabbles are so much easier for right now. (Send Scud thoughts as well teehee)

[walkingtalkingsomething]

oh the tease!!!

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Vec’s legs moved at their own will, carrying her down the hall at a speed she would never be able to achieve on her own. The sound of her boots pounding the pavement echoed off the walls of West Georgia Correctional as she navigated her way toward Cell Block C, frantically trying to find the woman she called “Gin.” And as luck would have it, all she needed to do was round one more corner.

Georgie was returning to her cell, likely from the bathroom, given the towel in her hand. Vec didn’t know, and quite frankly, she didn’t care. This was no time to be asking questions.

The Hawkins woman picked her head up at the sound, half-expecting to see a group running in her direction with how loud it was. As her gaze met her best friend’s, her smile quickly faded, the look on her face conveying that whatever she was rushing to Georgie for was urgent. She wouldn’t have to wonder for long; though, as Vec’s words were flying off her tongue before Georgie could think to open her mouth.

“Gin, you need to come with me right now,” she demanded, panting through her words as she brought herself to a stop outside the cell. At the speed she’d been traveling, even Vec was surprised at her ability to slow herself to a stop without crashing.

Georgie nodded, already beginning to make her way inside her cell. “Of course. Give me just a minute to—“

Before she could finish with “put this towel down,” she was cut off, both by Vec grabbing her arm, ready to drag her away, and by her words. “Oh that’s funny. You think this can wait.” She began to pull Georgie behind her, the towel that was previously in her arms falling to the dirty concrete floor with a soft thud. “C’mon.”

She knew she was being more persistent than usual, but the circumstances called for it. There was no time to waste.

“Dia, slow down. What is going on?” Georgie pleaded, her bestie dragging her down hallway after hallway.

“We have a problem,” Vec explained. Her tone was desperate, almost panicked. Maybe cusping on the edge of frightened, but Georgie couldn’t be sure. The sound of their feet nearly drowned out their conversation.

“I figured as much,” Georgie replied, “what kind of problem?”

She ended their conversation with two simple words. “You’ll see.”

Pulling the teacher out into the afternoon Georgia heat, Vec directed her attention toward the front gate. They’d barely gotten outside before she started rattling off instructions. “Look.”

She took a moment to gain her footing as Vec released her, balancing against the railing in front of them. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Georgie peered out into the field before them. From their spot against the building, she saw Rick returning from his afternoon run. And he wasn’t alone. “Okay…so Rick’s got—“

“No, Gin,” the doctor interjected, crossing her arms over her chest, “I need you to really look.”

With a sigh, she squinted in an attempt to get a better look at them. After a few seconds, their familiar features became more clear, sending Georgie’s heart plummeting into her already-churning stomach. Now, she understood why this was so urgent. Why her best friend was moving faster than an Olympic sprinter through the prison to find her.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

We’re trying something new where we post little snippets of future fics while we’re between chapters. If you only want to be tagged in fics, please let us know.

Vec belongs to me, Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract

QOTU taglist (aka The Council): @kat-herine00 @gothic-pumpkin @ffsjustletmesleep @weirdoneattheparty @imadisneyprincessiswear

You can hit up either myself or Krys to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

Banner was made by me, divider and ©️ message below were made by Krys

[corvidcrossbow]

➳ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐰 🪶🏹

Hey y'all welcome to the absolute dumpsterfire of my brainrot (blog), you can call me Corvid or Harbinger

Ima lover of all things Norman Reedus, n obviously TWD + Daryl Dixon. I also really like crows, and Qrow Branwen from RWBY – hence my user

Below is my masterlist that I'll update w/ time, then more about me. I lurked on here for way too long

❥-》》—————➣

♡ = Sweet ♧ = Angsty ♤ = Smutty

❥-》》—————➣

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 ♡

➳ Drabbles:

Daryl w/ Hazey by GA ♧

Mother's Day ♡ ♤

Purring ♡ ♤

Hip Bones ♤

Lazy Morning Sex ♤

Daryl Likes Puzzles ♡ ♧

Falling Asleep in Sex ♡ ♤

Shibari ♡ ♤

Father's Day ♡ ♧

➳ Short Stories:

I Like It Long ♤

Double The Fangs, Double The Fun ♤ (vamp + Scud)

Daddy's Little Dhampir ♡ ♧

Intruders ♡ ♤

Total Eclipse Of The Heart ♡

What One Has ♡ ♧

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡 "𝐒𝐜𝐮𝐝" 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐫 ♡

➳ Drabbles:

Scud's a Nerd ♡

❥-》》—————➣

Requests; are currently open for Daryl & Scud

Req info (please read before sending in 💛)

❥-》》—————➣

➳ Feel free to send me inboxes about other things too!; questions, comments, chatty stuff, etc. I love interacting with y'all!!

➳ I'm kinda a beginner writer (?), I've been doing creative writing for ages + fanfics for myself, this is just my first time posting n stuff

➳ This'll center around Daryl/Norman because he lives in my psyche and I love him

➳ Ima chronic overuser of the 😭, 🙏, 🗿, and ‼️ emojis

➳ English is my main/native language, but I'm also fluent in Spanish

➳ I believe A&W restaurants are a national treasure and I need more of them

➳ According to everyone I know I have a weird accent and dialect and I will admit I do (idk wtf it's even composed of so if I ever say something that makes absolutely no sense or sounds stupid it's probably that)

➳ I am wildly interested in the mechanics of reality and metaphysical things

➳ Aside from TWD & Norman related things, I'm also a lover of RWBY, Lost, House n much more

➳ Frankly I'd just love to engage with y'all on here, so many of you are so talented n I love your works 🫶

[morbidmorbid]

every fic/drabble or ANYTHING i’ve read about scud is always the most.. vile, nasty, unhinged, freaky filth i’ve ever stumbled across and i absolutely love it. it’s like every scud lover is on the same wavelength of horny and we all want the same thing. i love it here honestly no qualms !!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

DIN+59! DUDE CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWING YOU DESERVE IT!!!!

[a/n: thank you!!!! This is also a practice in me trying to limit my word count and the first drabble of this weekend I finish on exactly 500 words lolol.]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: non descriptive violence, cursing

Word Count: 500

Dialogue Prompt #59: "I need your help." + "Why do I feel like this is more than a small favor?"

“I need your help.”

The request tumbled out of your lips in a jumbled heap as you fell into the seat right across from him. Din paused in cleaning up the mess Grogu had made of his dinner to stare at you. You were a regular at this cantina, which Din didn’t fully understand considering what a scud hole the cantina was, but Din was now a regular because of your frequent visits. Anytime he was in Mos Espa, or even near it, he stopped by. In the multiple visits he had collected, all Din knew about you was that you were clever smuggler, you were a witty smooth talker, and you were the biggest trouble magnet on this side of the galaxy.

Din took note of the sheepish tilt to your lips and energy crackling in your pretty eyes. He blew out a sigh, “Why do I feel like this is more than a small favor?”

“It’s a medium favor at best, Mando.” You reassured him in the least reassuring way. Everything about your life was a hurricane of chaos and disasters. Two things Din typically tried to stay clear of, yet he found himself more and more drawn to you. “When the guy with a bad haircut comes over with his Trandoshian buddy, I need you to say yes.”

“Why am I saying yes?” Din demanded.

“Because we’re best friends, obviously.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You pointed at him. “Hey, that’s not fair. I only don’t know it because you won’t tell me. So, not my fault.” You nodded a head toward his son who chirped in excitement at seeing you again. “Grogu wants you to help me.”

“Buir help.” Grogu repeated the word from your mouth.

He let out an irritated grumble, but it came from a growing grin under his helmet. Seconds later, two men stormed over. They kicked over chairs and shoved aside other cantina regulars. The first man, a human with a haircut so extraordinarily bad that Din wondered if it had stemmed from an assault of shears, slammed his hand on the table. “Hey!” He growled. “You serious about this!?”

“Yes?” Din offered.

Both men bristled, and you jumped out of your chair to shove the human. “See? I told you my boyfriend was gonna kick your ass, you sleemo piece of shit!”

“Wait, what??” Din blurted. Grogu, without pause, hit the button on his pram and the doors slid shut just as the Trandoshian threw the first punch. The cantina crowd cheered as Din ducked under the punch, retaliated, then was tackled by the human into the table⏤ the furniture collapsed in a pile of splinters and debris. As Din wrestled the human, he spotted you sneaking over to the Trandoshian to rummage through the guy’s vest. You pulled out an unfamiliar item, sliding it into your own pocket, and shot him a bright grin with a solid thumbs up.  

You were chaos incarnate, but Maker did Din want you.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Scud smut today. Just really want to write a little drabble for him. Then maybe some work on Murphy. I’ll get back to chapter updates and larger one shots once I get moved.

[dixons-sunshine]

Begging for More scud fics please and thank you!🙏🏻

(one’s gonna drop in a bit! I ended up having some time to write a little drabble for him.)

[ddixonsangel]

❛ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 …ᡣ𐭩

¡ ꒰ 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 ꒱ !

���� : this blog will start off free of mature or nsfw content, but that may change in the future with some suggestive themes. if you're a minor, please do not interact with my content to avoid any confusion or issues. accounts that engage with future nsfw posts and are found to be underage will be blocked—for your safety and mine. thank you for understanding and respecting my boundaries.

¡ ꒰ 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐊 ꒱ !

𖥔 : if you're making a request, please make sure you're being polite and kind; it's not that i won't respond to you if you're not, but i really appreciate the kindness and cordiality when speaking, besides, i'll feel more familiar and comfortable with you if you do. ♡゙

𖥔 : feel free to describe your request specifically or just provide a general idea of what you're expecting, i'll try my best to give you what you're looking for. ‹𝟹

𖥔 : before sending anything, please check here that your request follows all the rules below. if it doesn't, I won't be able to take your request, sorry.

𖥔 : i’ll take my time with each request and new post, especially because of school, so i kindly ask for your patience and understanding. please don’t pressure me—I want to create with love, not stress.

𖥔 : i will only write for the characters listed below. in the future, maybe i'll add more, but for the moment, just those.

𖥔 : if you've got a doubt about making a request or in general about the rules, feel free to ask me, i'll be more than happy to help.

¡ ꒰ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 ꒱ !

𖥔 reader inserts : only fem!reader x character. i'll try to do my best to keep it without any descriptions, but i may write some stuff for my oc, (for self-indulgence).

𖥔 length : one-shots. headcanons. drabbles. scenarios. series.

𖥔 topics : fluff. angst. smut (for the future). suggestive (for the future, too). hurt/comfort. au's.

𖥔 tropes : established relationship. enemies to lovers. friends to lovers. unrequited love. slow burn. secret relationship. forced proximity. mutual pining. heartbreak. marriage. childhood friends.

¡ ꒰ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 ꒱ !

𖥔 dark and sensitive themes : such as sexual assault. non-con. descriptive gore. stockholm syndrome. kidnapping. eating disorders. miscarriage. human trafficking. suicidal ideation. pedophilia. incest.

𖥔 male readers : it's not that i don't like it, it's more that i don't know how to write.

𖥔 smut : as well as suggestive stuff (just for the moment).

¡ ꒰ 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 ꒱ !

𖥔 the walking dead : rick grimes ⭑ daryl dixon

𖥔 the last of us : joel miller ⭑ ellie williams.

𖥔 pedro pascal's characters : javier peña ⭑ javi gutiérrez ⭑ agent whiskey ⭑ din djarin ⭑ marcus pike ⭑ marcus acacius.

𖥔 norman reedus' characters : murphy macmanus ⭑ scud frohmeyer ⭑ sam porter bridges

𖥔 random anime characters : tamaki amajiki ⭑ chuuya nakahara

© ddixonsangel · 2025 | all fanfics belong to me, please do not translate, copy or repost them on any other social media.

[scudslut]

cockwarming with scud ❤️‍🔥

18+, mdni, f!reader

Scud is a cockwarming fein. If he could be inside you all hours of the day, he would. The man is clingy as fuck and wants his body pressed up against you at all times. He just loves knowing your his.

He’d be sat back on the couch lazily, joint hanging from his lips as he played some video game. Sauntering in and sitting beside him, he’d simply unbuckle his jeans, signalling you with a nudge and a cheeky smile, to move onto his lap. Slipping off your panties, you’d sink down onto his half hard cock, groans filling your ears as he adjusted himself. “Fuckkk, always so fuckin warm for me, aren’t ya?”

You’d just whimper quietly, enjoying the feeling of fullness as you laid your head on his chest, watching him continue whatever mindless game he played. You’d notice his thighs tremble more and more, trying like hell to keep his composure long enough to complete the level he was on, hissing with sensitivity each time you roll your hips softly into his.

Eventually he’d give up, tossing the controller across the room and flipping you to your back. “Just love being a fuckin brat, don’t you? Can’t just sit pretty like a good girl huh?”

He’d fuck into you rough, hitting that deliciously sinful spot deep inside you, over and over again. After you’ve came around him again and again, tears streaming down your cheeks, he’d kiss them away, “Learnt your lesson yet, baby?” Knowing damn well, you’d do the exact same thing later, craving him stuffed inside you constantly.

And even after he let go, deep within your walls, he would stay put, carefully rolling the two of you on your sides and switching the channel so you could watch whatever movie was on, falling into a sweet slumber tangled in eachothers arms as close as you could possibly be.

[stray-kaz]

The Sky Is Falling : a Rafal Mistral x f!reader drabble

Summary: Storms are your nemesis. Run to Rafal.

A/N: Ideas for either of the twins are welcome! Comments are equally welcome!

The sky had been threatening it all day, but when midnight struck and the storm bellowed, it shocked you to your core. The first roll of thunder dragged you under the covers, shuddering, but the first arrow of lightning sent you skidding to the empty doorway, bypassing the sleeping figures of your fellow faculty members, snoring in their canopied beds.

You supposed you could have crawled in with one of your friends, but there was a problem with that, too. None of them was Rafal.

The rain lashed against the high set beveled windows, heat from the earlier day pressing down upon you through the glass. Your heart thundered to the rhythm of the storm, terror surging whenever another bolt of white heat lightning struck the school. You had always felt safe here, even as a student, and now as an adult under Rafal’s watchful eye. But beneath the sudden midsummer storm, the wild of it scared you, sapped the strength in your own magic away.

You felt trapped, swallowed whole, a bug under a magnifying glass, a small, insignificant human caged in the eye of the storm. 

The sky roiled with clouds above the twin schools, dark shadows scudding across the lake below. The usually smooth, unruffled surface broke apart like shattering glass, foamy shards spinning up towards the night sky before splashing back down.

Your bare feet pelted the long corridors and then the sun warmed stone steps that led to Rafal’s tower bedroom. A thin finger of lightning cracked open the sky for a split second just as you were passing a high window, and the white light sucked you toward it, your palms pressing frantically against the warm glass, trying to push yourself back.

It was like Rafal: bright and cool, until you got a little too close and got burned. You ripped yourself away from the window and doubled your efforts to reach the right room. Thankfully, Rhian was nowhere to be seen; you knew from past experience that the two brothers often carried on conversations long past midnight.

His bedroom door was ajar and he sat up in the bed when he saw you slip inside to close it behind you and lean your back up against it with eyelids low and chest rising and falling sharply.

“Scared of storms, hmm?” he murmured, eyes flashing ruby in the shadows. “Honey, how can we possibly go on after this? You should not be afraid of anything.”

Your eyes opened all of a sudden and he glimpsed the memory of lightning flash in your pupils, almost doubled in size.

“It sounds like the sky is falling!” you gasped.

Rafal sighed and flicked the sheet back on the other side of his bed, gesturing.

Wordless, you padded over and crawled in, pressing cold feet against Rafal’s warm calves. He hissed and you curled up on your side with your back to him, the sheet yanked up to your chin and your eyes tightly closed to ward off the lightning.

But the thunder continued to rumble and the lightning continued to crash and you could still see it, like blinding veins across the insides of your eyelids. 

Rafal felt you tremble and shake, the mattress quaking beneath you. Weakness wasn’t something he was accustomed to in the context of you, but here you were, quivering and needing him. He sighed and landed a warm hand on your bare shoulder, shaking until you twisted to peer uneasily at him.

“I’m going to need to sleep, love” he said dryly. “Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate as he hauled you over and settled your fear tense body on top of his. His bare skin was hot, which was usual, even in regular weather conditions. You rested your head over his heart and listened to its steady, rhythmic pattern. You sniffed and burrowed nearer as Rafal wrapped his arms around your back.

“I love you” you spoke drowsily to his shoulder.

He chuckled and rested a hand languidly on the back of your neck.

“I know.”

Surrounded by his scent and warmth, you were lulled to sleep by the sound of his breathing.

No pressure tags: @back-home-to-camelot​ @writingmysanity​

[gust-jar-simulator]

I was writing practice drabbles and this one got away from me. Enjoy a vision of what could have been.

Prompt: Hyrule, Beautiful Delirium by Blackbriar

Characters: The Chain (Linked Universe)

~🌞⏳🍂⌛️🌞~

Death, perfect and whole in its victory, blanketed the cracked earth.

It would be one thing if there were corpses, or flies, or even a rancid breeze. But there were no leaves for a breeze to caress. No bones for the bloodless sun to bleach. No vultures, no keese scudding across the thin asphyxiated blue of the sky.

The Chain was half starved by the time they found the castle, ragged as scarecrows in a barren field. They’d stopped wasting breath on conversation miles ago, and the bloodless corpse of the capitol demanded silence like a tyrant did highway tax.

It was hard to imagine that this was Hyrule, once, that civilization had once built fat and flesh on the dusty skeletons of forgotten storefronts, dry fountains, and listless banners. On some of them, faintly, the crest of the royal family fluttered like a dying pulse.

There were no signs of war. There were no signs of anything. No monsters, no guards, no toys dropped in marketplace dirt. Just silence. Just dust, and air dry enough to leech the moisture from their lips.

It was so much worse, then, when the eight of them caught fae laughter in the shadows of the castle foyer, childish and bright.

Time, with the sharpest ear for it, heard the ripple of water under the echoes. “Just one voice, though,” and his brow furrowed.

“One’s enough for answers,” Legend muttered. “Let’s figure it the fuck out so we can go.”

Four hadn't stopped looking ill since the portal dropped them, but even he nodded. Twilight sneezed, too loud in the quiet, and booked it after Warriors’ suddenly determined march.

It would've been easier to split up. It also wasn't even in question.

And it was Warriors, in all of his determination, who found the throne room with its lone occupant first.

The high, skirling notes of a flute broke off with a curious hum, and an idle splash. “Guests? How strange. I suppose that’s what happens when you leave the door open.”

Warriors paled and tried to back up, but couldn't with the press of the other seven at his back. It was hard to explain the urge to hide them all, cover their eyes and shut their ears. It wasn't a Lost Woods sort of danger. Not entirely.

Just something wearing the shape of a boy in a castle turned mausoleum, with eyes the bloodless gold of a solar eclipse. It smiled, tilted its head, and the gutting wound across its throat smiled too.

“Can I help you? You seem…”

Their eyes caught on the pool of blood spreading from the foot of the throne, and the way calloused feet splashed in it. Thin shoulders dripped with haphazard finery, a too-big cloak on corpse-pale shoulders, blue veins starker than scars. Gold necklaces, a woman’s bracelets. For a brief, insane moment, he almost had tusks, grown so long they curled back into his brain.

But they blinked, and there was only a boy, or something pretending to be one on an abandoned throne.

“...tired,” he finished, eyes too gold in the gloom. Blood splashed around his ankles, a child in a puddle.

“This isn't a fairy fountain,” Time breathed.

Dust glittered in the light from the windows, glassless and hollow like sockets in a skull. Blackened nails and blue fingers spidered over the notes of his instrument when he smiled. “It is,” it answered, “as much as it isn't. But you should probably go, heroes- this isn't your story, not now.”

The sucking chill of a portal wrapped around their shoulders, their throats, hooked somewhere deep in their guts, as familiar and confusing as ever. Warriors took a step forward, away from the hungry maw of time at their backs, frowning. “What do you mean, not our story?”

“Wars,” someone hissed, but he didn't pay attention. He wanted to know. He always thought he wanted to know, did Wars.

The corpse-blue boy laid a delicate hand on his chest, and smiled like the bloodless sun.

“There’s nothing left for you to save. That’s all.”

Something brighter than gold gleamed in the back of his hand, embedded like diamonds in rock, and Warriors was left staring at the holy gleam of the Triforce before darkness ripped him back into eternity.

[dixonsdarkelf]

WIP Wednesday

I saw @daryltwdixon & @dixons-sunshine do this, so I thought I'd join in lol (I’ve always wanted to do a WIP Wednesday but it makes me so nervous idk why). My WIP list is much bigger than this, but these are the things I'm actively rotating between working on & am most excited about at the moment 🖤 The summaries may be a little different by the time I actually post, but this wil at least give you a rough idea.

Words Of Affirmation: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Summary: After you’re taken in by a group occupying West Georgia Correctional, you’re sent on a run with a particular archer. Much to his dismay, you try to strike up a conversation, and one little interaction leads you to wonder if those feelings you'd been bottling up may be reciprocated.

Era: Season 3, Prison era

Warnings: Swearing, more TBA

QOTU: Two Is Better Than One (Scud Frohmeyer & OC (Lydia Vector))

Summary: It'd been a few weeks since their first date, and Vec & Scud are as smitten as ever. On the drive home from another, a certain song comes on the radio, and sparks fly.

Warnings: Swearing, it may get a little heavy idk these two are super fucking flirty so we'll see, more TBA

My next chapter in the AU with @dixons-sunshine. The song in question:

I'm The Teacher (But I'll Make You Go Dumb): Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Summary: About a week after your first-ever sexual escapades, you're ready to take things one step further with your new boyfriend & go all the way.

Era: Alexandria, Pre-Saviors

Warnings: Smut, more TBA

This is Part 3 in what accidentally turned into a mini series from a drabble I wrote last year.

Part 1 (the drabble in question) Part 2

Strawberry Croissants: Dad!Murphy MacManus & Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a home baker, and you're trying to finish a batch of goods for the local church's charity event. But your now 5-year-old daughter, Myrna, is insistent on being a helping hand.

Warnings: TBA

In The Most Biblical Sense: Judas & Fem!Reader

Summary: During your first Saturday shift at a local dive bar, you'd gotten the attention of one alluring stranger. Now that you were off the clock, things were starting to heat up--very, very fast.

Warnings: Smut, more TBA

This is Part 3 of yet another mini series that was accidentally started from a oneshot lol.

Part 1 Part 2

The three-photo collages (though I do not own the pictures--those were found on Google), GIFs, & © below were made by me. QOTU banner was made by Krys. Sparkle divider is by @/anitalenia

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Oracle - Intro : Sibyl

June Drabbles 2022 Days 26 & 27 - Universe & Neon Sign 

A/N: So we all know by now that I completely missed the mark on finishing all of these in the month of June. One of these days I will complete a challenge on time. Maybe. But I have had a lot of fun writing these drabbles/stories, and with only a few more to go I’m powering through the rest of them. This one is actually a bit different from the rest, because it is for something that I have been plotting and planning (and stressing about getting right) for roughly a year, but when I saw these two prompts I took it as a sign (and you’ll see why that’s appropriate) to finally get the ball rolling on this soulmate au series. I’ve never written the soulmate trope before, and I am nervous to try... but I’m also excited and I hope that you enjoy where it’s going... and that you don’t hate me too much. ;) 

Word Count: 2,800

Warning: death, violence, language, theft 

Summary: Years of job hopping and point pinching have finally put Ezra in a position to take a step up - literally out of the gutter-gunked scud puddles of Cirian Central, but also out of the slow sinking pit of debt and dying dreams that he’d been languishing in for too long. But just as his luck takes a turn for the better, something else lands hard and haphazardly in his lap - fate. And not just his own. So will he follow the fortune... or the fortune teller? 

A deluge of grimey water splashed against the dingy window that Ezra leaned against, looking out as the storm drains from mid were emptied onto the rooftops, sidewalks and unsuspecting heads of those on the lowest level. He grimaced as a nearby man got drenched by two levels worth of rainwater, debris, fuel oil and Kevva knows what else. I know what else. This entire planet is a pus-stained scab on the Cirian sector. The unfortunate, muck covered man was either uncaring of or unfamiliar with the drainage system in that portion of the city, but Ezra had plenty of practice when it came to dodging the showers of street slick that rained on the ground level every quarter cycle. Central was his home planet, after all. 

Or at least it was where he hailed from. He hadn’t called it home since the first time that he left it - as a sixteen year old stowaway on a trash transport headed for the Bahkroma System, forged documents aging him by three years stuffed into his pocket. But if he was being honest with himself, it hadn’t been home since well before then. He had no nostalgic notions, no rose-tinted memories made there to feel fondly for the place. Docking on Central between jobs was never something that Ezra looked forward to, and he always sought to leave again as quickly as he could. For a while he did everything in his power to find work that would keep him off-world for several standard years at a time, taking odd jobs on benches and freighters and places where he could negotiate lodging into his pay. His plan had been to save his points for all the equipment that he would need to start the career of his dreams - digging for aurelac, toxic environment and all. He got hired to his first crew a few days after his twentieth birthday, and in two decades he hadn’t looked back.

Though there were several other mining trades he could have gotten into that wouldn’t have required the life support suit and filtration hose, none of them paid nearly close to what he knew prospectors on the Green Moon made when they sold their gems. He understood the math of it. The deadlier the job, the higher the payout, and there weren’t many professions more potentially hazardous than the one he wanted to make his own. News of the rush had only amplified his drive, Ezra’s eyes growing wide as he read about pearls rumored to be the size of fully grown channel-rats. The location of the theorized rhizomatic deposit that the prospecting guild had dubbed The Queen’s Lair was unknown, but Ezra chose to believe that if it was real, he would find it. 

I’d finally be free of the debts I’ve carried all these years. They weren’t insurmountable - he was still paying off loans that he’d taken to upgrade some of his equipment - but the fact that he was tethered by such a seemingly in reach number of points made them feel steeper than they were on the record. It was why he had started sneaking small, lower grade gems into the hidden pouches that he’d sewn into his suit, smuggling them back to Cirian to sell to the fence he met at the pub he frequented when he was forced to stay there between stands on the Green. It upped the risk even more, but the math continued to check out, Ezra’s earnings going up as well. Not exactly what I envisioned, but… If I find the Queen’s Lair it won’t matter. He watched the last drops of filthy water slide down the glass and sighed. And I’d finally be able to afford more luxurious accommodations than the inns down here in this scud-crusted sludge puddle. If he had his druthers though, he wouldn’t stay on the mid or top tiers, either. If given the choice of anywhere to spend his free time, he’d pick Kamrea or Cardovan or Lao. Anywhere but Central, really. 

At least it’s only a couple of days this time. Just a handful of cycles. He grinned to himself as he pushed the door open and stepped out of the bar, a few mugs of mash mead sloshing around in his belly and his brain to give him a pleasant buzz. He hadn’t met with Geyser this time, and Ezra briefly wondered if his blackmarket connection hadn’t gotten himself caught. But when no one came to slap cuffs on him as he took a seat in one of the open stools and ordered a drink, he determined that Geyser likely got drunk in some other sinkhole and forgot that they were meant to meet, or else he’d struck a deal with another thief for higher quality pearls or fewer points. It didn’t matter much to him, not with the offer he’d just accepted to join a crew that was setting out to find the Lair - and not returning until they had unearthed it. This could very well be the last time I ever find myself here. 

With that thought, and a handful of pebble pearls he would have sold to Geyser still burning holes in his pocket, he strode down the dark alley and out towards the glow of artificial lights. He had no idea what time it was, but down on the third level it didn’t matter if it was night or day. It didn’t matter that Cirian Central had two suns or that its moon was the brightest and largest in the sector. The substructure of the cities that covered the planet’s surface blocked out the sky at ground level. Even if it didn’t, there was an ever present haze from steam valves and factory vents that hung in the air that acted like an opaque filter, muting everything to a dim shade of gray. The only light that far down came from the various signs that flashed in vibrant colors boasting bars, brothels, brokers and anything else transients and vagabonds like him might need. The constant buzz of the flickering neons created a white noise that was only broken by the wet slopping sounds of the drain pipes from above, footsteps of people that came too close, or the hacking coughs of Fringelings like him, leaning in doorways and against dripping brick walls as they smoked their fire hash blunts down to their fingers. 

It had been a few years since he’d smoked one, and for a snippet of a second he thought about trying to barter with one of the men for a little bit of leaf, rolling the smooth but cloudy gem grains in his pocket between his fingers. He knew someone would take that trade, even if they had no idea what the street price of aurelac or fire hash was. But if he wanted to feel the effects all he’d have to do was stroll down Stinger’s Alley and suck in the smoke. And that’s not what I want to do right now anyway. He needed to find accommodations for the next two nights, and once that was taken care of he would be back in one of the bars, celebrating the change in his fate that was just on the horizon with another mug or three of mash mead. The purple lettering of the Astral Hotel’s sign hummed in the distance, the S and both Ls smashed so that when lit it actually read A tra Hote, and since Ezra had stayed there a few times before and knew exactly what to expect - the damaged neon tubes advertising the place were quite an accurate representation of what it was like on the inside, too - he headed off in that direction, the grainy gems still rattling between his fingers.

But before he could cross the street, a woman emerged from a curtained doorway and stepped directly and intentionally in front of him. Her wide brown eyes were shining and shaking as they locked onto his, and though it would have been easy to brush the look off by assuming that she had inhaled too many vapors from the fire hash and steam valves, Ezra got the immediate feeling that she was stone sober. Her shoulder length hair had likely once been golden blonde, but now, like everything on this level of the city it had started going silvery gray, and she kept it tied back with a red head scarf, that and the beaded bracelets clacking together on her bony wrists as she reached for him the only splash of brightness that didn’t come from the buzzing lights. What in- 

“You don’t know how to find her, do you?” Her hands clasped around his arms, the woman stronger than she appeared, and Ezra was so stunned by the sudden contact that he simply froze. What? Who?

Blinking, he shook his head and wrinkled his brow, and then gently lifted his arms to try to shrug her off without touching her. “I think you might have the wrong person, ma’am. I’m not sure who you’re referring to, but-” 

She only doubled down, fingers gripping the worn fabric of his waffle-knit pullover. “The woman you’ve seen. In the flashes.” 

She scanned his face for a reaction and he knew that he gave her one, his mouth dropping open as he sucked in a breath. How does she know about… I’ve never- He blinked again, and a pair of eyes that were far more familiar to him than any he’d ever looked actually into came to the forefront of his mind. Her. The woman whose laughter he felt in his heart when he was happy, whose anguish he tasted when tears stung his own eyes. The woman he’d never met and always assumed had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. The ghost in his dreams. But they aren’t just dreams… Sometimes I see her while I’m awake, too. 

“The woman who always dies in your arms.” 

That drove the buzz right out of his blood and left a chill in its place. 

The woman who always died in his arms - who he was never able to save. She’d drowned and he’d been too late to pull her from the water. She’d been shot and he hadn’t acted quickly enough to patch her up. She’d been poisoned, stabbed, struck by a vehicle, attacked by an animal. No matter how many flashes Ezra got of her smiling, safe, sleeping or even sighing into his ear, they were outnumbered by the ones that ended with her death. 

“How in Kevva’s name do you know about that? About her?” Because I’ve never told a soul. Not a single scud-sucking soul. 

“I know a lot about you, Ezra. We’ve been here before.” 

His heartbeat quickened and his tongue suddenly went dry and thick in his mouth, the air in his lungs going stale. “If this has anything to do with Geyser, I-” 

She waved one ring encrusted hand to cut him off. “I don’t concern myself with black market activity. What you choose to do with the pebbles in your pockets is unimportant.” He bristled, even as the woman took her other hand away from his arm. “What I need to tell you is far more pressing than five and a half points in cloudy aurelac.” 

Is this a setup? Ezra glanced up and over her shoulders, eyes darting left and right to make sure that no one was watching or lurking on a nearby stoop. Shoving his right hand in his pocket, he felt the creamy texture of the unpolished pearls against the pads of his fingers. There were exactly five and a half points worth. How is- 

He was hit then with another flash.

Inky black darkness that swallowed the tree line. A crackling flame that spit and snapped with wet wood, sparks swirling upwards with the smoke. A stripped down, hopper-style landing pod that didn’t look operational. And a woman imprisoned in a glass booth that was lit by harsh white neons. Her body was covered in some kind of pink powdered substance, and a golden mask obscured most of her face. But her eyes opened, and Ezra knew them. Another flash and there she was, draped in the crook of his left arm, face tipped up towards his and gasping for air. 

But this time his ghost didn’t die. 

This time he yanked the emergency hose attached to his gear and sealed it over her mouth and nose. This time he wasn’t too late or too slow. This time he had what he needed to save her. To save you. 

When he blinked again you were gone and he was back in his body on the streets of Cirian Central, breathing hard as the clairvoyant woman clutched at one of his arms with both of her thin hands. “Come inside unless you want to get slime soaked,” she urged when he finally looked down at her. What? “The drains, Ezra.” She pointed upwards. “They’re due to-” Shit. 

He nodded, letting her pull him through the curtain and into her shop just as the drain valve twisted to slop greasy gray water down on the place where he’d just been standing. But that wasn’t what mattered. And at this point, the moon rocks in his pocket didn’t matter either. She… she’s alive. She- “She didn’t die.” 

The woman sighed as she closed the door that he hadn’t seen, locking it behind herself and drawing the curtain shut. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she flicked the light switch to turn off the buzzing sign in her window. Ezra watched, shaken and dumbstruck as the tubes forming a hand and the words psychic readings fizzled out and went dark. “You saw her.” She slowly spun to face him fully. “But you don’t know how to find her, do you?”��

Find her? He swallowed, brow furrowing and heart thudding hard. “You mean to tell me that she’s… that she is more than just a vision? That she is-” 

“She is as real as you and I are.” Outside, another slosh of filthy liquid rained from the mid level as his host pulled a chair from the corner of the room closer to its twin near the window, gesturing for him to sit. He did, and she sunk into the one she’d just moved, leveling him with her stare. “But unless you do exactly as I say, the fate that you just witnessed will change and you will lose her again.” She leaned closer, the look in her eyes even more desperate. “Possibly forever.” 

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Lose you? Again? He had never had you. He didn’t even know who you were. 

That isn’t entirely true. I know her eyes. I…Something churned in his chest and then it felt as though he’d split open if he couldn't get his arms around you. I do know her. She… she’s my- 

“Tell me one thing, soothsayer.” Something still wasn’t adding up though. He shook his head as he tried to even out his racing thoughts and slow down his breathing. “Why pray tell, does it matter to you if a point pinching aurelac swindler like me finds his soulmate?”

“First of all my name is Faye.” She answered without flinching. “And it matters to me because I believe that if you don’t follow the path that leads you to her… I will never see my daughter again. They are both alive, Ezra. My daughter and the woman who has been haunting your memory.” 

“My memory?” He balked. “You mean the visions? The dreams?” 

“Do they feel like dreams to you? Do you often dream without sleeping?” She reached forward, covering one of his hands on his knee with her own. “The things that you’ve seen? They are not dreams. You lived those moments, Ezra. All of those possibilities. In a hundred different worlds, in a hundred different universes. And all of them have ended the same way. But I see a path that ends in a different place - a place that leads to my little girl and to the piece of your heart that you’ve been living without - and now that you’ve seen it, too…” She squeezed his hand. “How can you look away?”  

The answer was simple but he kept it to himself. He couldn’t. I won’t. But he was going to need some more clarity. “Tell me what you’ve seen, and what will be required of me before I embark on this path of yours, Faye.” 

Tell me how to find her… Tell me how to find her in time and I’ll go down any path you point me towards. 

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[sandsorghum]

2:37am, Passenger's Seat Dispatch

Reflections on the road in the small hours with Nanami Drabble: 500+ Based on this

Nanami is driving through the entertainment district, his haunt from a lifetime ago. What floats in the windshield, and behind those jade-tinted spectacles?

The specter of indulgences made mandatory: Corporations plying and paying for company, businesses bought with bodies grinding beneath disco strobes and fluorescent shafts and glaring screens.

Ahead of the dash are the flashes of high-beams and enamel gleams. Such perfect smiles, the glowing pixels almost reach their eyes. You wordlessly watch the set of his lips, their thinning barely perceptible. Reds and blues gild over that carefully neutral expression, his eyes never flicking to the bright blinking boards advertising convenient uncomplicated satisfactions.

These streets are crowded with a slew of unspoken transactions, between liquor and lovers and livers, all indebted. Sobriety and self-control get funneled through cracks in the sidewalks, across which the zombies drag their sagging suits and slack jowls, crawling through bitumen twice-tarred with their booze.

He had done his best to avoid the undead, the way dawn distances itself from midnight. But the disease spread all the same, an airborne  miasma of rot infiltrating his soul. Struggling to maintain that space, whether mental or physical, didn't matter in the tight quarters of a rush hour.

He was reluctantly familiarwith their commute if not their communes. Something withered in him every day, watching them flinch at the first fingers of light creeping through the windows of the earliest trains, the same pallid blue in their varicose veins trembling from nicotine withdrawals.

The carriages were shared caskets, shuttling between beer towers and office buildings, after parties and afterlives. Herding himself - themselves to the markets, mired back in their pens and cubicles and mugs of espresso, chasing the stock exchange. 

He became just another sun-shirker, trading daylight for LEDs.

The neons now are garish against Nanami's face, his sharp features cleaving between light and dark, the overexposure high on his cheeks, the shadows stark in the hollow of his angular jaw and beneath his unfocused eyes.

There's a slight turn before the both of you pull up at a traffic junction that exits onto the highway, his countenance now cast in an amber glow. A scudding of shadows along that knife edge nose bridge, light teetering on a tightrope.

Your hand moves to rest over his on the gear stick, settling over his grooves and edges. There's a softness to your tone, matching your thumb rubbing slow circles against his joints.

"That's all behind us, Ken."

He meets your gaze, irises bathed in tinctures of whiskey, melding with flecks of honey. Something crystalline in them too, from a memory of a lamp's incandescence, refracting through the ice of two well-nursed highballs clinking together, concocted from the bar cart in a shared kitchen.

Nanami lifts your hand to his lips. He plants kisses between each of your knuckles before settling your palm on his thigh. You feel it flex as he adjusts the pedals and shifts gears.

The engine thrums low in anticipation, the reverberations shudder through the leather, pulsing between your legs.

The instant the light changes, dashboard erupting into an emerald flash, he hits the gas leaving the asphalt gasping for breath. The corners of his mouth flicker as he feels you clutch his lap for a moment, fingers tensing as the driver devours the road with such familiar, foreboding fervor.

He remembers what it is to hunger, because of you. Knows unslakeable thirst, because of you.

These are the kinds of godforsaken hours he craves; when it's just the two of you tearing away from the vignettes of the city till the halogen smudges ebb into the distance, sepias seeping into the rear view mirror.