#that’s where I feel like we see his true colors the most
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I’m so obsessed with Bad’s fucked up relationship with Ron and how he talks about/to him depending on the circumstances. I’ll try to organize my thoughts and theories about it all.
Bad said that Ron is a member of the family but it felt to me like saying ur pet is part of the family. Bad cares for Ron because Bad is lonely and broken and needs something, anything to latch onto but that doesn’t mean Bad respects Ron or sees him as anything other than a piece of his plan.
Bad is putting on a performance every time he talks to someone and the mask he wears is different depending on who he’s talking to and what he hopes to gain from the interaction.
When we first saw Bad interact with Ron, he was a tiger pacing the bars of his cage licking his chops at the meat just out of reach. After torturing Ron and getting a present from Forever, he completely flipped the script and became sugary sweet. Giving Ron a bigger and more furnished cell. Bringing him brownies and ice cream and a kitchen full of food. Giving him a fish. But the way Bad speaks and moves when interacting with him is fascinating.
I want to start way back in the beginning and examine what I think Bad’s plan with Ron was. Bad spent a week psychologically torturing Ron before letting a soul vulture tear him to shreds. Then Bad seemingly changes his entire plan on a dime but I think that was the plan the whole time. Break Ron physically and mentally then drown him in gifts and force this weird family dynamic onto him to warp his perception of the situation. Make it so Ron will want to give Bad what he wants because Ron knows the alternative and is afraid of breaking the fantasy Bad has created.
Bad will act with a saccharine sweetness and almost pathetic desperation to make Ron happy and comfortable one moment then come down to the basement with a mania and malicious grin to talk about his day. He’ll bring a much more morally sound friend to meet Ron and spend the entire interaction watching them like a vulture eyeing a sickly animal. He says they are like family but answers Baghera’s questions for him and treats him less like a person and more like a beast of burden. Important and valuable because of what Ron offers him (information and emotional attachment) but less important than the bigger picture.
Every time Bad leaves the basement or a social interaction, when he isn’t performing, he is just silent and moves with slow but methodical purpose. I do think he is attached to Ron but not nearly as much as he says in front of Ron or to Baghera. He wants Baghera to think he’s attached so she’ll work with Bad easier. We know Bad is manipulating Baghera and Forever and I think Bad’s attachment to Ron is part of his manipulation of Baghera.
Ron has given Bad pretty much everything he can and has become a liability so Bad needs to get rid of him. That’s where Baghera comes in. Ron sees Bad as sad and pathetic and broken which has allowed him to forgive Bad and will make him accept going with Baghera to live freely somewhere away from the federation. Baghera sees Bad’s attachment to Ron and it makes Bad look sad and pathetic and lost. He made a mistake and he needs Baghera to help him fix it.
Meanwhile we the audience know Bad fully intends on kidnapping Fred and is actively immolating many of his relationships. He doesn’t want to fix this “mistake” he wants to dump Ron into her care because he knows she’s a better person than him and she’ll take care of and protect Ron.
Idk I might be way off course here but that how I’ve interpreted the situation so far XD todays stream might change my mind but this is where I’m at now lol maybe bbh really is just this pathetic and broken but his other actions haven’t convinced me of that yet
#qsmp#crimson speaks#badboyhalo#ron lemons#I think the only person I actually trust bad around is foolish#that feels like the only times bad is being honest#I mean#those two talk with five layers of obscurity XD#but you know what I mean#that’s where I feel like we see his true colors the most
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What color character are you?
TOBIAS: yellow character.
Yellow characters tend to be positive and upbeat people, who try to see the bright side in most situations (although the older a character is, the less likely they’ll be as openly positive). They’re friendly and energetic much of the time, and while often genuine it can become a cover for their more negative feelings. They tend to have a lot of skill in one specific area which they have to work hard to harness and use properly. Because of this skill they can be put up on a pedestal and have high expectations placed on them to perform. Often these expectations also come from themselves. They have a strong sense of responsibility and duty placed on them that can cause them to develop a bit of a savior complex, blaming themselves for not being able to protect everyone around them.
They are diffusers and peacemakers, preferring to be in harmony with everyone, sometimes making it confusing when others around them are not this way. They’re pretty cheerful and bubbly and usually the light of their friend group. They care about their friends a lot, and go out of their way to show it, although it can cause them to be jealous when they feel as if they aren’t being included. While kind people, they also have a competitive streak and like to win. They love fun and are likely to get sidetracked and drag their friends along with them. Others are able to relax in their presence and enjoy themselves, and it’s hard not to like a yellow character. While these characters may be warm and diligent though, they also have a hard time taking risks, generally preferring to stay in their comfort zone.
They can have a bit of both a main character and a savior complex because of how much responsibility they put on themselves, and while well meaning it can irk other characters. Sometimes they go too far trying to help and interfere with others, and when they don’t want to do something they will often shut down and distract themselves from it. They are surprisingly mature for how innocent they seem, and when in a healthy place they always give their best effort. They are wise and interpersonal and really tie their friend group together. Yellow characters need to be given a safe space to release negative emotions without letting them build up, and they need people in their life who will help them keep a healthy balance of work and play without pressuring them too much.
TAGGED BY: @inhaunts THANK UUU!!!
TAGGING: You 🫵
#◜✧ . ❪ muse. tobias. ❫#◜✧ . ❪ tobias ; meta. ❫#◜✧ . ❪ dash games. ❫#Tobias started laughing AS SOON as this result showed up 😭😭😭 neither of us expected yellow but it's a win!!! we take it#I was frankly imagining any other color under the sun but this is actually VERY on the nose!#'Others are able to relax in their presence and enjoy themselves; it’s hard not to like a yellow character' bro even got the site to agree#You would Not think this guy is a peacemaker but he's incredibly chill unless you're in his way or you've pissed him off (<-difficult task)#He's rarely if ever part of arguments and that says a Lot in and of itself... and he's often the one breaking others' arguments up#And I agree that there are a ton of expectations on him; from Wammy's; from his million underlings and allies & even from himself#bc he's never been wrong before & can't afford to start making mistakes now that stakes are x1000 worse; which adds a Bit of pressure#'They need people who will help them keep a healthy balance of work and play' unironically this is such an important point to note#Most of his relationships are work-related & even those that aren't are typically one-offs or planned w ulterior motives in mind#so having people around him who want to just hang out & see him act his age instead of like a genius are INSANELYYY needed#Btw this part is kiIIing me: 'Others are able to relax in their presence and enjoy themselves'#HOW IS THAT SO TRUE. I don't think he's had a Single interaction on this whole blog where the other party didn't get to feel relaxed#which is bewildering to me bc he even threatened people on here. And somehow they're now friends & they love hanging out w him.#LIKE GIRL? JADOISHADHSAJGASDHSAGH bartender I want whatever he (<-Tobias) is having
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It’s been clear that the Tanizakis aren’t siblings from the very beginning
here’s some evidence now that it’s been confirmed canon…
everyone who’s read irl Tanizaki’s book knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves
BUT just because the Tanizakis aren’t siblings doesn’t mean you can’t feel uncomfortable about them. if you feel uncomfortable, GOOD. that’s exactly what they want
the Tanizakis, Mori— they all use these disturbing ruses to disarm or distract people in order to protect themselves, or to accomplish their goals. this is a writing device that asagiri commonly employs as a way to parallel the irl literature (it’s actually ingenious)
there are 4 main indicators that have always made it clear to me that Junichiro & Naomi are not siblings:
1. most obviously— their character designs. Harukawa is extremely intentional with character designs, & she very intentionally made Naomi & Junichiro look nothing alike
their eye shapes are purposely different
their color palettes are contrasting
even their differing styles of clothing have meaning
this was all done so that the audience could PLAINLY see that they’re not related— so that WE know that they’re lying when they say they ARE related
2. how the people around them respond to their act.
the general reaction is “don’t question it”— which is exactly what they want. “be distracted by how uncomfortable you feel so that you look away from what we’re hiding” (this is likely a protective measure)
3. most importantly, this is meant to parallel irl Tanizaki’s book “Naomi,” where the main character Joji picks up Naomi to raise her into his ideal woman, but since she's so young (& a minor) they call each other cousins (Joji makes no sexual advances on young Naomi btw)
however, his plan backfires because when Naomi gets older & they get married, she flips the script on him & manipulates HIM so that he's under her thumb (which is why bsd Tanizaki is at a domineering Naomi's mercy). Joji let her have her way because of his masochistic tendencies
4. lastly is the emphasis that Asagiri and the Tanizakis themselves put on calling each other siblings.
over & over, it’s “my brother this” & “my sister that”
like they’re desperately trying to convince us that it’s true (“don’t let your lying eyes deceive you”)
here are just a few of many examples from the light novels…
again, if you’ve read “Naomi” you knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves
just like if you’ve read irl Mori’s works, it’s clear that bsd Mori isn’t a pedophile
just like if you’ve read No Longer Human you know that Dazai’s an unreliable narrator. he makes you think he’s a bad person bc he believes he’s a bad person, but those around him see him differently (btw this doesn’t mean he’s never done anything “bad,” though bsd isn’t about morality— but that’s another discussion)
anyway, i’m so excited for the Tanizakis backstory to be revealed so that we can better understand why they use this defense!!
also let this be a reminder to READ THE LITERATURE if you’re able to!! even reading synopses & analyses of the coordinating books makes bsd make much more sense 🥹
reminder that this how you’re supposed to react while reading bsd:
also, if you’re interested in a post explaining how Mori isn’t a pedo, i wrote this analysis on twt. OR you can read this document that one of my moots sent me (remember: analyzing a character does NOT mean you condone any actions they may or may not commit!)
#i hope this makes sense. i’ve had this in the drafts for months but was too scared to post it#i’m hoping now that it’s confirmed canon there won’t be as much backlash ^^’ pls be kind#darcy this is for you… i hope you like it :’)#also full disclosure i haven’t been able to read all of Naomi yet. mostly synopses & analyses. so don’t take my summary of the book as law#also hopefully now people won’t ignore the Tanizakis anymore!! not only are they so interesting. they’re also just fun characters#Naomi is so underrated & intelligent. i need more of her teaming up with Dazai#rambling about bsd again#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd meta#bsd analysis#bsd tanizaki#bsd naomi#naomi tanizaki#tanizaki junichirou#tanizaki siblings#bsd 118
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IN FAIR VERONA ━━ CL16.
things are hard when you're the only female in a male-dominated space, and the newest driver for the newest team knows this best.
( charles leclerc x driver!schumacher!reader )
━━ part one.
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yourusername feeling blue?
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user i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now
user MOTHER IS MOTHERING SO HARD RN 😩
user y/n schumacher never misses
↳ user let’s be real here user the entire schumacher family never misses
↳ user y’all have seen mick’s most recent post too right??
user she is so gorgeous i am ILL
user god really does have his favorites huh 😭😭
↳ user this is undeniable proof
↳ user people this beautiful don’t actually exist i refuse to believe it
user every day i wake up and cry that i will never be as stunning and skilled as her
user formula 2 silly season has me losing my damn mind i swear 😫 i might as well be wearing a tin foil hat with the number of theories i’m following and the consistent blue themed posts y/n keeps dropping are NOT HELPING
↳ user not to add to your conspiracy madness, but it’s already confirmed that fred vesti is replacing jehan daruvala who’s moving to mp motorsport, and there are rumors that oliver bearman is also getting a prema seat which could mean that y/n schumacher is going to another team as well or leaving f2 entirely
↳ user a good chunk of the other teams have already revealed their driver lineup and none of them include schumacher, which doesn’t leave a lot of options IF the rumours are true
↳ user i can’t see her just leaving motorsports entirely considering she’s worked so hard to get where she is 🤔 which calls into question whether she’s moving to a different racing series
↳ user i really can’t see schumacher leaving tbh, especially since she’s been in f2 since 2017 and has established herself as a prema legend basically
↳ user the fact that she has been at prema for so long (and has gotten p2 in the f2 championship nearly every year since 2017) could also be proof that she’s moving on to bigger and better things
↳ user wait she’s been there HOW LONG??? since 2017??? as in she drove with charles leclerc, her brother mick, AND oscar piastri??? 🤯🤯🤯
↳ user she’s had a very long and successful career there, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she decided to retire from formula racing and move onto some other series that’s more woman-friendly, all things considered 🤷♀️. she has been runner-up every year that she’s competed, proven that she has what it takes to make it in a higher level of formula racing, and yet not a single f1 team has even offered her the opportunity to be even a test or reserve driver? 🤨 something isn’t adding up and i don’t want to say it’s because she’s a girl in motorsports but it’s kind of hard to ignore the proof when it’s put right in front of you.
↳ user guys the keyword is “if” here, of course, bc as fun as it is to speculate it is all still speculation and we won’t know for certain until it’s revealed by official sources. silly season is called that for a reason, and for all we known y/n is drawing out the announcement of her continued partnership with prema to stir up interest. she’s been in a very loyal and secure partnership with them for years now, a partnership that both she and prema seem very happy to keep considering just how long it’s lasted.
↳ user f2 is another series that once you win the championship you are no longer allowed to compete in, so prema may have kept her around to help carry her male teammates into first place until females are more accepted in formula racing so that she could eventually move up to f1
↳ user prema’s gonna announce her as their driver with vesti and you all are gonna look so fucking dumb for this 🙄🙄
user blue is HER color now 😍
maseratimsg 💙
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yourusername to the women of f1 that came before me, who paved the way, this is for you.
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maseratimsg When you race, they race with you 💙.
↳ yourusername 🫶💙
user Y/N SCHUMACHER??? IN FORMULA ONE??? IN 2023???
user i’ve been following her career for years now and this makes me so excited omg
↳ user me too!! she’ll be the first female to drive in f1 in over 30 years 🤭
user HARD LAUNCH BUT FOR THE 2023 GRID I GUESS
user when maserati announced they’d be getting back into formula racing i had no idea that also meant formula one as well?? they’ve got drivers in the 22-23 formula e season right now but this is how i found out about y/n schumacher driving for the 23 formula 1 season? i think i am going into shock
user 2023 might actually be a good year if this is how we’re gonna be going into it
user WOMEN IN MOTORSPORTS
user milf = man i love females-in-fast-cars
user been watching f1 since i was a kid, always wondered why there were no girls out there driving. this year i’ll get to turn on that tv and finally see someone who looks like me
↳ user it’s so fitting that maserati’s original f1 team also had the first woman f1 driver, and now they’ll be breaking barriers again by having another woman f1 driver in their first season back
↳ user i’m hoping they’ve got a good car ready cuz i wanna see y/n schumacher up on that podium telling everyone who didn’t believe she could do it just cuz she was a girl to eat shit and die 😤😤😤
user there’s a reason there aren’t any female drivers in f1. she’s doomed to fail just like all the others smh 🙄
↳ user the biggest reason is sexism, and y/n has consistently proved throughout her career that she is just as skilled if not more than her male counterparts. she works harder to make up for the physical disadvantages she has as a woman, and she still wipes the floor with the other drivers. she’s not “doomed to fail” she’s practically destined to succeed.
↳ user y/n has trained her ass off to be the best, and she’ll prove it when she gets out on the tarmac in bahrain, just you wait 🥱
↳ user she’s literally a 6-time f2 runner up??? sure, she didn’t win, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still incredibly fucking impressive that she’s managed to get p2 against her male counterparts 6 YEARS IN A ROW 👀👀 her brother got p12 his first season and you know what she got? p2. she’s already raced with the likes of charles leclerc, zhou guanyu, yuki tsunoda, alex albon, george russell, lando norris, and a number of other very prominent formula racing names, and she held her own against them all incredibly well. she gave her own brother a real run for his money when they were teammates in 2019 and 2020, and in 2021 she was only a 9 point difference away from oscar piastri, whereas the p3 finalist was nearly a full 60 points below both of them. get out of here with that “there’s a reason there aren’t any female drivers in f1” bullshit, because the reason is misogyny 😒🙄
user not to be that person but like??? who else is lowkey excited for potential driver x driver romance?? 🫣
↳ user nah cuz i didn’t wanna make this about that but i’m actually totally ready to see who she has the best chemistry with on the grid 🫢 first hope is charles leclerc cuz they’d be a power couple hands down but also mayhaps max verstappen?? maybe??
↳ user totally agree babes a ferrari and maserati romeo and juliet love story would destroy me 😩
↳ user the parallels are already paralleling
↳ user to add to the parallels, her and charles were teammates at prema in 2017
↳ user OMG RIVALS TO STAR CROSSED LOVERS??? 😭😭
↳ user schumacher and leclerc are about to live out THE fanfic dream i can see it now
user can’t wait to see her mop the floor with these boys next year
user 2023 IS GONNA BE CRAZY 💙💙
user if i see any of those lads talk down about her or dismiss her just because she’s a woman, it’s on fucking sight 💀
↳ user they did that campaign in 2021 about equality in racing and i am BEGGING that it wasn’t just a media ploy and that they actually believe what they said about men AND women being able to drive
user this is about to be the best f1 season in history folks
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maseratimsg Prepare for trouble, and make it double ✌️💙.
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user SCHUMACHER TWINS TEAMMATES AGAIN???
user someone pinch me i think i’m in a dream 😳
↳ user i pinched myself and this is in fact very real
user we knew y/n would be driving for maserati but to also have MICK? maserati picked not one but TWO legacy drivers they have an agenda to push and they are certainly pushing it
↳ user yeah, an agenda to win 😌
↳ user genuinely just imagine how much natural talent and skill will be in that garage come the start of the season with michael schumacher’s twins…
↳ user back in 2020 when they raced together at prema, i saw someone joke that they were made into twins because no singular human being would be able to handle having that much racing prowess, so they were split up. but idk how much of it was actually a joke because they were scarily good as teammates? y/n has always finished no more than 10 points behind p1, and mick is a very powerful driver in his own right. putting them together and letting them drive as allies again instead of rivals will be a sight that’s for sure.
↳ user imagine being nerfed at birth cuz fate knew you’d be too powerful otherwise 😂😂😂
user blue is THEIR color apparently
user it’s the schumachers’ world and we’re just living in it
↳ user schumachers vs the entire f1 grid sounds like an insane clickbait article but the fact that it’ll be real in a few months is crazy
user everyone’s talking about y/n and mick but i’m stuck on the fact that there will finally be 11 teams driving for f1 again
↳ user maserati really said fuck the expectations
↳ user maserati’s gonna get a 1-2 with the schumachers in their first year back i’m calling it now 🤪🤪
↳ user first female driver in f1 in 30 years and first 11th team to drive in f1 since 2016, and i’m betting it’ll be first ever female driver to podium in f1 and first ever female driver to win in f1 too because i’ve seen y/n schumacher’s skill and i guarantee that if she’s actually given the ability to go all out then she’s gonna be a force to be reckoned with
user hope they’ve got a good car planned cuz i wanna see these two put up a good fight
user verstappen better watch his back 👀
user Y/N SCHUMACHER WDC 2023
user at least mick got to drive with seb still on the grid, but i’m actually heartbroken that y/n won’t be able to 😔
↳ user and kimi too
↳ user i think the only drivers left are hamilton and alonso no? from before their dad retired i mean
↳ user perez, hulkenberg, and ricciardo too, but they only drove on the same grid as michael schumacher for a couple years
↳ user i imagine it would suck to lose but i personally would be very proud to see my old friend’s kids standing on a podium above me or beside me 🥹
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mickschumacher from beating you into this world, to beating you in karting (both professionally and casually), i'm so proud to have the chance to beat you in formula 1 too
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yourusername those are fighting words micky 🤨
↳ mickschumacher not sure what you mean 😊
↳ yourusername it’s on sight 👊
user GUYSSS JUST THINK ABOUT THE PADDOCK INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THESE TWO
↳ user the media days boutta be crazyyyy
↳ user i’m imagining the chaos of not just having siblings on the grid together, but twins specifically, and i’m already getting a migraine on behalf of whoever their pr officers are 😅😭
↳ user 2023 is the year they make a geneva convention for the grid prank wars and it’s gonna be the because of the schumachers
user baby photos oh i am unwell 🙃
↳ user i’ve caught a nasty case of baby fever i fear
↳ user they’re both menaces as adults, i wonder how bad they were as little kids
↳ user baby fever cured methinks 😶
user 💙💙💙 MICK P1 2023 💙💙💙
user mick being proud to race with his sister but also making it well known that he isn’t gonna take it easy on her is the type of sibling rivalry content i’m looking forward to seeing this season
↳ user i need all the drivers to have this same mentality bc i know mick is gonna recognize her as the threat that she is, but if any of those lads underestimate her just bc she’s a girl, then their karma will come in the form of eating the dust of y/n schumacher’s car
↳ user PREACH 🙌🙏
charlesleclerc cannot wait to have you both on track this year
━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej
━━ a/n: first and foremost, happy international women's day! i've had this sitting around for a little while now and decided that today would be the perfect day to finally share it, what with the themes of women empowerment and breaking the glass ceiling. my main priority will still be my lando series until i can get that finished, but updates for this might appear in between on occasion. i also wanna take a moment just to appreciate the sheer amount of research that went into this, finding a team that would reasonably work well as an 11th team for formula 1 was a bit difficult, but i'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth when maserati fits pretty perfectly. also, as a twin myself, i'm incapable of writing a sibling duo that aren't also twins, and i have zero shame about that. anyways, i'm very excited for this, and i hope everyone else is as well!
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#social media au#smau#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#cl16#mick schumacher
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HE IS IN LOVE.
summary: things the bsd men do that show how in love with you he is. featuring atsushi, akutagawa, dazai, chuuya, ranpo, and kunikida
contains: fluff, gender neutral reader. based off of “you are in love” by taylor swift
a/n: ahhh bsd they could never make me forget about you. reblogs are always appreciated <3
you can hear it in the silence. you can feel it on the way home. you can see it with the lights out. you are in love. true love.
—
he says “look up”, and your shoulders brush.
ATSUSHI points out anything and everything that is even slightly related to your relationship. you could be walking down the streets together and he’d suddenly point at a restaurant sign while talking excitedly, “remember how we had our first date there?!” or he’d point at a mannequin in a window and go “the color of the shirt is like those shoes you wore at ___!!” he loves you so evidently that you seep into everything he sees. for him, the world has never been so colorful.
—
no proof, one touch. but you felt enough.
AKUTAGAWA squeezes your hand three times to tell you he loves you. he’s fully aware it’s cliche as hell, but that’s never deterred him. he squeezes your hand at the most random times too. talking to a cashier? i love you. watching a film at your place? i love you. cooking in your kitchen? i love you. he may not always tell you with words, but akutagawa never fails to remind you that he loves you. you are always his favorite thing to think about.
—
morning, his place. burnt toast, sunday.
DAZAI wakes you up with three things: a kiss, a coffee, and an attempt at breakfast. keyword: attempt. bro cannot cook for shit, and he knows it, so he ends up just making you toast. it’s either barely toasted or it’s burnt, no in between. but, your coffee is always exactly how you like it, and he makes sure to write you a cheesy little note no matter what. the giggles you have at the sight of his toast makes up for the tiny bit of embarrassment he feels for still not having the toast method down. he loves you, and he knows you’ll always love him, no matter how shitty his cooking is.
—
you keep his shirt. he keeps his word.
CHUUYA swears to you before every mission that he’ll come back home to you. and he never fails. you are always on his mind, no matter how much danger he is in. he makes sure to fight long and hard if it means that at the end of the day, he gets to be in your arms. it even works for simpler things, like if he was too lazy to fill out his reports. all he has to do is remember that you’re at home waiting for him, and that gives him all the motivation he needs. they say home is where the heart is, and his heart belongs to you.
—
you two are dancing in a snow-globe round and round.
RANPO spontaneously dances with you whenever he thinks the atmosphere is pretty. when the first snowfall hit, he brought you out to dance. when there was a soft shower of summer rain, he brought you out to dance. when the sun shone through the clouds, he brought you out to dance. he doesn’t care about the lack of music or coordination. you could step on each other’s feet a thousand times, but he’d still wear the same joyous smile. no matter the weather, no matter how bad his feet might hurt after. he always thinks you’re the most beautiful when you’re dancing with him.
—
and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown.
KUNIKIDA has a little corner on his desk in the agency’s office basically dedicated to you. he has little trinkets you’ve given to him all laid out nicely, along with his favorite picture of you all framed. dazai teases him every time he walks by. kunikida tells him off each time, but he never removes anything off his desk. he glances at your picture every time he feels a little burnt out or tired. you keep him grounded, in a sense. you remind him about the reason why he’s doing all of this in the first place. there is good in the world. he knows that the world can be good because you were good to him. and he can only hope he’s been as good to you.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#atsushi x reader#ranpo x reader#akutagawa x reader#kunikida x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#osamu dazai x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#ryunosuke akutagawa x reader#atsushi nakajima x reader#ranpo edogawa x reader#kunikida doppo x reader#he is in love
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Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies
"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."
"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."
"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."
"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."
"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"
.
..
...
....
"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"
"Calis calm down! Your arm!"
"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"
"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."
"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."
"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."
"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."
"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."
.
..
...
....
"WE FOUND THEM!"
"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"
"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"
"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.
"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.
They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.
"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."
"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?
"MAPA!"
"PAPA!"
One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.
"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.
The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.
"See...I told you they would be waiting..."
last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.
"You...got everyone right?"
"Yes, human Max."
"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.
.
..
...
....
"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.
When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."
"But how did they get so injured?"
"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."
"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."
"You seem confused."
"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."
"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.
Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."
"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."
#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#humans in space#the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre
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can i request poly!marauders x female reader where she gets burnt out easily and most people don't know this cause she like leaves or hides before they can see. So one day they were hanging out all day and she gets burnt out but they don't know what happened so they get all worried when she all of a sudden just looks so drained and tired and can barely smile or anything. Sorry if this doesn't make sense. This happens to me a lot with new friends and because I get so burnt out I sometimes even need other people to explain for me cause talking is even too much. Thank you so much if you do it!! ♡♡♡♡♡I love your fics so much♡♡♡♡
Thanks for requesting gorgeous, love you :)
cw: social burnout
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 948 words
“I just don’t see why they would change them,” James complains, sipping dissatisfiedly at his butterbeer.
“You’re such a creature of habit,” Sirius sighs heavily, but you all know his boredom is for show. He only wants to rile James.
“The old quidditch uniforms were just fine,” James is practically monologuing now, staring into the middle distance with a furrow between his brows. His elbow bumps your arm as he gestures helplessly. “Red and gold—those are the Gryffindor colors, red and gold. So why are the new uniforms bright red and yellow?”
“Maybe so you’re more visible,” you suggest, and Remus’ lips twist amusedly as he leans across the table to sip at your butterbeer. Neither of you had much appetite after your long day of snacking at the quidditch match, so you’d agreed to split one. You’ll admit, you find the two straws poking out of your mug embarrassingly romantic.
“We look tacky,” James grumbles, slumping a bit in his seat. You see Remus’ arm reach under the table, and you know he’s straining to rub his boyfriend’s thigh consolingly. “The gold was so much better.”
“At least you can pull off a yellow like that,” Sirius points out. “Can’t say the same for Callaghan. He looked totally washed out.”
This would be your time to chip in with a comment about how Sirius’ pallid countenance wouldn’t fare so well in the new colors either, but you find you don’t want to. There’s a persistent pressure at your temples. Once you acknowledge it, the rest is impossible to stop. Exhaustion seeps into you like a poison, all the way down to your bones, and you’re done. You’ve been around people—mostly your boyfriends, who you love very much, but people nonetheless—since you woke up this morning, and had talked and laughed and participated all day long, and now you’re done. You want to be home.
“True, but even he looked better than you would have, Pads,” James voices the zinger for you, he and Remus trading entertained looks when Sirius starts spluttering about how he looks good in every color, thank you very much.
“Alright, I can’t have any more of this.” Remus pushes the butterbeer towards you decisively. “All yours, dove.”
You know you haven’t had anywhere near your fair share, but the idea of reaching over, of going through the effort of bringing the straw to your lips, is too much. “Thanks,” you say to him, “I’m good.”
Remus’ brow creases. You feel horribly dramatic.
“I’ll take it,” James says merrily, reaching for the mug before Sirius slaps his hand away.
“Oi, it’s hers.” Sirius gives him a mean look, nudging the butterbeer back towards you. “You’re like a fucking vulture, Prongs. Darling, are you sure you don’t want what’s left? You know he’ll down it in one gulp.”
“I’m sure.” You try to give him a smile, but even you can feel what a flimsy attempt it is. “Thanks anyway.”
Sirius’ expression clouds over with concern, and you look at the table.
“Hey.” James reaches for your hand, squeezing your fingers lightly between his. “What’s up, lovely?”
You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just tired.”
Sirius makes an incredulous sound, and you know what he wants to say even though he doesn’t. Yeah, I can see that. “Did something happen?” he asks instead.
You frown, hating that you don’t have a more satisfying answer. “No.”
“Dove,” Remus tries to get your attention from across the table. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine, honey.” James’ voice is soft, but you can hear the unease in it. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” He touches the back of his hand to your forehead, then lets it slip down to your cheek. “Maybe it was the butterbeer. Rem, are you feeling alright?”
“I feel normal,” Remus says, seeming at a loss.
“Hey.” There’s a hand on your leg, and you look up to see Sirius leaning towards you, giving you one of his stern looks. “What’s going on with you, huh? Talk to us.”
“I’m fine, seriously.” You do your best to look it, sitting up from James’ shoulder, though your dull voice belies your words. “I’m just drained.”
“Drained how?” he presses.
“Just…done.” You shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry, I think I want to go home. I just need to be by myself for a little bit, is that okay?”
“Of course,” Remus says, standing and grabbing his coat. “You don’t have to be sorry, dove. It was just a long day, is that it?”
You nod, relieved.
He shrugs on his own coat before grabbing yours, helping you into it when you slide out of the booth. “I understand. It’s been a lot of socializing for one day. You should have told us you were feeling tired, I could have gone home with you after the game.”
“I didn’t know until it just happened,” you say, but you don’t have the energy to really argue.
Remus doesn’t want to, either. He kisses the top of your head as he zips your coat, taking your hand in his.
“We’ll get you home and you can hole up as long as you need,” Sirius promises, pulling on his gloves. “You introverts, so weak.”
“She’s probably drained because of you,” James teases back. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his side.
“That’s not how it works,” you say quietly, but James shushes you, dipping down to kiss the side of your head.
“I know, angel, but if you say it is, he’ll be buying your butterbeers for the next week. The month, if you play it right.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Epilogue
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: This is the end 😭
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
SIX YEARS LATER
While the others were busy dragging themselves out of bed in time to the Day Court’s breathings, you and Azriel were already wide awake and watching as the sun trickled down the windows and onto the floor.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. Have I changed your mind at all?
Your mate smiled at the sound of your voice in his mind. He almost preferred it to speaking out loud where curious ears might be listening. Cassian loved to tease you about it endlessly.
“You’re worse than Feyre and Rhys,” He would lament, “Will we ever hear your voices again?”
Hmmmmmmmm. Azriel considered your question. I’m afraid not, my love. I shall remain a creature of the night forever, no matter if I am married and mated to you.
You wake up earlier than me most mornings.
Just because it’s true doesn’t mean I enjoy it.
You blew against his hair playfully and laughed when his shadows were whisked away like leaves in the wind.
“My Lord.” The attendant curtsied. Her cream-colored robes kissed the floor as she carried your dress in her arms. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. Eyes glittering with joy.
There were three others behind her. One male carried Azriel’s crowning suit and the two females held boxes made from pearl and gold.
“I hope you’ve slept well. We’ve come to prepare you and Lady Y/n for today’s events. If you would so kindly follow Arryn.”
The male bowed low in introduction, and it took all his court training to keep him from jumping back when Azriel’s shadows crawled over his shoes in curiosity.
Azriel looked back to where you sat in front of the vanity brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair. One small shake of your head was all he needed to see before turning to the attendants.
“I’m afraid your services won’t be necessary,” Azriel said apologetically.
Her joyful eyes fell. She had been looking forward to helping you dress. It wasn’t every day that a Court could enjoy a formal crowning ceremony, and even rarer that a High Lord should claim his heirs with so much love.
She didn’t protest when shadows came to carry your clothes inside, but one of the other attendants did perk up with concern to mention, “But Our Lady’s hair! Surely she will need some assistance.” She looked on hopefully, clutching her pearl box a little closer to her chest.
Azriel smiled kindly. “I’ll send for help if needed. I promise.”
With the hope of that promise lingering in the air, the attendants bowed and departed, taking slow steps in case either you or your mate should change your minds at the last second. They were severely disappointed when you didn’t.
Perhaps we should have let them stay. You said. Azriel carefully laid out the boxes of jewels and gold, each piece shining with the light of a hundred suns. They looked so excited.
Azriel pressed his thumb beneath your chin, fingers ghosting over your throat as he tilted your neck back to look at him. Hazel eyes flashed in the early morning sunlight and his lips were warm against yours, sweet like honey and bergamot.
Perhaps. Azriel hummed. But today, I want the honor of attending the Darling of Day.
Is that what people are calling me?
I’ve heard rumors. He brushed his lips against your neck. And I have it on good authority that the rumors are true.
Shadows curled in answer to your raised eyebrow.
And attend to you he did. He braided your hair, securing the front pieces away from your face with pins made of starlight and sunbeams. His heart stuttered when he imagined how radiant you would look after your father laid a circlet of gold over your brow.
He laced up your dress, spreading kisses along the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. Then he knelt to the floor to clasp your white silk shoes. The drag of his fingers up your calf had you smiling as he tied the final bow.
Another time, my love. You told him, pulling Azriel up with the daintiest grip on his chin.
He pressed a kiss to your palm and the corners of his lips pulled up in a smile. What a shame. He nipped at your fingers. I’ll hold you to that promise.
I would expect nothing less.
Azriel was quick to pull on his Day Court attire and refused to let you take your time with him the way he had done for you.
You snatched the Day Court pin from the vanity before Azriel could—a circular sunbeam with a sword, pen, and iris stalk crossed in the center.
Let me do this! Just this!
Your stubbornness showed when you climbed onto the bed and did your best to hold the pin out of reach.
I’m not about to be crowned an heir. He reminded you, holding onto your waist protectively.
But you will be beside me when it happens. You must look presentable.
Don’t I always, my love?
Careful. You’re beginning to sound like Rhysand.
He lifted you up and off the bed with ease. Carefully, reverently, you pinned the gold piece to his coat. Just above his heart.
He liked to pretend things like this didn’t affect him, but he was grinning like a fool as he finished buttoning the sleeves of his coat. Black velvet lined with gold and silver cut out his strong silhouette. And after little persuasion, he let you crawl into his lap and paint the corners of his eyes with gold and black.
“Y/n!” Elain called your name from down the hall. Pale gold sleeves bubbled off her shoulders, light and airy as she hugged you close. “Oh you look lovely.”
“As do you. Not that that’s anything new.”
She brightened faster than a flower in spring. Lucien wrapped his arm tightly around Elain’s waist, ring flashing on his finger.
“We thought you’d never arrive.” Lucien said. Folds of pale-golden fabric lay draped across his chest. A pattern of Spring and Autumn leaves trailed along the selvage. “Were you preoccupied?”
“Oh hush.” You slapped your brother’s arm.
You and Azriel were the darker mirrors of Elain and Lucien as you lined up beside one another behind the gilded doors. On the other side were hundreds of the Day Court’s most prestigious families, scholars, and courtiers, and the odd High Lord or two.
Helion’s voice cut through the chatter, laughter ringing through every word.
“Are you ready?” Lucien asked from your left. You took your brother’s arm, some of Azriel’s shadows winding down your hand like jewels.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. And you?”
“I am. I’m ready.” He squared his shoulders back. This was it. For the first time in decades, he would be a recognized member of his family — his true family. He would wander no more. “Thank you, Y/n. For everything.”
The trumpets began to blare. The crowd’s talk dimmed to a low, excited murmur. Years ago, the sound of so many people would have sent shivers crawling down your spine like spider legs.
No more.
Azriel slipped his hand into yours and squeezed once, twice, before the doors opened and the crowd burst apart like fireworks at the sight of the new heirs of Day.
The crown did not lay heavy against Lucien’s brow as he charmed courtiers with an energy that had everyone wondering how they could have missed the truth about Helion’s son. He was everything a High Lord’s son should be—polite, kind, and charming to an almost lethal degree. He took after his father in his mannerisms… mannerisms Helion had been stripped of the moment Aurora Vanserra walked into the room on her eldest son’s arm.
You shot Lucien a look, and a look was all he needed before he was steering Helion towards the scarlet-crowned pair.
“Lucien!” Helion pulled back in alarm.
“Shhhhhh.”
“Y/n—” Your father looked to you for aid, eyes wider than a deer at the wrong end of an arrow.
You and Azriel waved him goodbye.
Helion’s stomach was a lead weight dragging behind him as he crossed the marble dance floor.
Aurora Vanserra flickered like candlelight behind a window. Something for Helion to gaze upon but never touch. Something to love from a safe distance so he could never snuff out that previous light.
Red hair cascaded down her back in braids laced with gold and emeralds. When she turned around and looked upon the face of her lover, Helion felt a familiar fist around his heart squeeze a little tighter. Mercifully, she looked just as flustered to see him. Although she looked a great deal more graceful when hiding her emotions. She’d always been good at that.
“Helion.” His name was a breath from her lungs.
“Aurora. Hi.”
Helion had hoped the years might fall away. That the walls they’d both placed around themselves as protection might shatter at the gentlest tapping of his fingers. Alas, time was more stubborn than that and it would not break. But that did not mean it would not bend.
You, Lucien, and Eris both watched carefully from your corners of the room as Helion quietly took Aurora out onto the balcony for some peace and quiet.
Lucien worried that he’d made a grave error. Some miscalculation of hope. But then he saw his mother smile — the first true smile he’d seen in years — and suddenly the weight around his shoulders seemed to shrink.
Helion and Aurora Vanserra stayed on the balcony all night, hands dancing closer and closer together but never quite touching. Lucien and Elain made their rounds through the crowds, feeling at ease at each other’s sides as they kissed cheeks and sprinkled hope throughout the Day Court.
And there, tucked away into the little alcove just left of the quartet’s humble stage, stood a Shadowsinger and Inkbird resplendent in black and gold. Heads bowed together. Hands touching. And smiles on their lips as they spoke without a whisper of sound between them.
<- Previous Chapter
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Author's Note:
WE ARE DONNEEEEEE!!!! Don't mind me while I go cry in the corner now. Final word count was over 130K which is the most intensive writing project I've ever worked on AND COMPLETED!
I truly cannot thank you all enough for reading this story. Whether you were there from its very beginnings in December of 2023 or whether you stumbled upon this story more recently and got to binge read it all at once, I want to thank the writing/reading community for inspiring me to continue. There were multiple instances where I had to take short and long writing breaks and worried I had lost my passion, but seeing your comments and inbox messages or even seeing your little handles pop up in my activities section was a little extra gas poured into my tank so I could keep on going.
I think I'm going to take a little bit of time off (but this time it's planned lol) to get back into reading and to work on other writing projects (and also finally upload stuff to AO3 like I've been meaning to for the past month). So, I will be back soon with more writing stuff (but also don't worry I am always lurking on this app in some way shape or form).
Thank you all once again! Now that this is finished, I would appreciate reblogs so people know it's finished and ready to read, but also no pressure at all! 😊
Love,
Florence Byrne
#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader slowburn#acotar#azriel x reader angst
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Guardian Angel
Pairing:
MDI 18+
Warnings: Opium powder use, mentions of drinking, high Benedict, Benedict being an insecure cutie pie, fluffy fluff hehe
WordCount: 2.2k
A.N: Hello my loves! I'm sorry for my lack of posting, I've been sick and I've finally started work. I am still trying to find a schedule where I can post and have time for other things. For now, have some lovely Benny fluff while we all wait for part two of Season 3 to come out. I love you! <3 P.S. Thank you for 200 followers OMG I love you all so much.
Marrying Benedict Bridgerton was the easiest decision you have ever had to make. The two of you grew up alongside each other, the rumors of a proposal coming when you debuted, and the actual proposal occurring only two months into the season. It was an easy choice, a choice you were happy you made. He made you feel alive. He filled a part of your soul you did not know was missing before you met him. Even in the hardest times of your marriage.
Benedict, like many other men, has insecurities. He keeps them hidden well behind an air of confidence, but you know better. He never was jealous of Anthony, but rather scared that he would always be looked at as the lesser son. The spare. He just did not understand what you saw in him. He saw himself as a man without purpose, a man who could not provide the life you wanted. He believed you when you said that was not true, but there was always a little voice in the back of his mind that made him doubt himself.
You knew this well. He was less talented at hiding his feelings when he was a child and had shared many of them in your many late nights on the hills of Aubrey Hall. Though now, these insecurities only rear their ugly heads when Benedict has had a few too many to drink. Or, as is the case tonight, too much of the strange tea Colin buys him.
You get out of the carriage with your maid and footman, John, after he had come to get you claiming that Benedict had had far too much tea. A result of drunken carelessness by his younger brother. You rush up the front steps and into your townhouse, taking off your cloak before bouncing up the stairs toward his studio. You sigh as you walk in to find your bohemian husband on the floor of the studio with a canvas in front of him, smearing paint on it with his fingers without a care in the world. It would be an adorable sight if you were not worried out of your mind.
You walk to him and sit down next to him, watching as his glassy eyes sweep over the floor before meeting your own. "Ah! My love!" He exclaims, his demeanor immediately brightening as he drapes his paint-stained arms around your middle, his cheek resting against your shoulder. You hum, not bothering with the wet paint that stains the dark blue fabric of your gown as you wrap your arms around him. "I have been seeing visions, darling." He mumbles into your skin as you run your fingers through his curls.
"Have you now?" You murmur as you press a kiss to his forehead, making his lips turn up into a loopy smile. The most adorable sight you have seen in a while. "Mm. Colorful visions. I had to paint them as quick as I could, had to feel the smoothness of my oils on the canvas." He says, pulling back to look at you. You grin when his eyes focus on yours, one of his paint-covered hands coming to rest on your cheeks leaving a beautiful mess of blues and purples in its wake.
He studies your face for a moment longer before crawling, quite clumsily, over to a clear canvas. "Benedict?" You call softly, moving to sit next to him as you watch a beautiful image come to life on the canvas. It wasn't anything, but at the same time, there was something so divine about how he is painting.
After about an hour he stops, looking up at you with that darling crooked smile. "Look, Y/n. It is you. How I see you." He whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. You smile and look down at the mess of colors for a moment, believing that this canvas full of swirls might truly be how your husband looks at you in this state. "It is stunning, my love." You murmur, pressing a kiss to his brow before returning your attention to the painting. "Shall I explain it to you?" He slurs, his attention solely on you.
You hum and nod, returning your attention back to him. He smiles giddily, laying back and pulling you on top of him. "It is as if... I tried to capture a dream." He slurs, pressing his lips to your nose. "A whisper of our love, tangled in colors and chaos. This mess of lines and splashes, it is you and me, dancing through the storms and the sunbeams. It is...it is us." He stumbles, weaving paint-streaked fingers through your hair. Even in his most inebriated moments, he never ceases to take your breath away.
With a wavering smile and glassy eyes, he gestures to the canvas, his voice thick with emotion, "You see, my love, it is as if you are my guardian angel. This painting...it is not just colors. It is you. You are in every swirl, every splash...." He grins, watching your eyes shimmer with tears. "You are the light in the chaos, guiding me, saving me from myself. Each stroke is like your touch, soft but powerful, keeping me safe, lifting me higher. It is a tribute to you, my protector, my guiding star. My love, my guardian angel." He mumbles, and you break.
Tears begin rolling down your cheeks and you bury your face into his neck, making him laugh, his hands smearing paint up and down the back of your gown as he tries to comfort you. "You need not be saved from yourself, Benedict." You whisper after a moment, pulling back and wiping your eyes. "My God, if only you could see yourself as beautifully as I see you." You whisper, pulling him up into a sitting position. "Y/n... I have only ever needed saving from myself." He slurs, though even through his inebriation you can sense the deep sadness that lingers somewhere deep within his soul.
"You are the most remarkable man I have ever known, and I am utterly captivated by every part of you—your brilliance, your kindness, your passion. To me, you are perfect, even in your moments of doubt and struggle." You whisper, cupping his cheeks. "You are my world, and I am here to stand by you through every storm." You vow, brushing away the tears that have spilled down his cheeks with your thumbs.
"My Y/n." He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours as he sniffles. "My Benedict." You return, sitting on his lap as his arms encircle your waist. You shift his head into the crook of your neck and allow him to cry for a moment, rocking him side to side as he does. He rarely ever shows this kind of emotion. In a way it is comforting, to know that the man you married still feels just as intensely as he did when you were first wed. You press a kiss to his head and he nuzzles your neck.
You sit with him on the floor of his studio for about an hour, and when he finally calms down you help him to the master bedroom. He falls back on the bed without even a sound of protest, moving his arms so you can help him undress. You grin and bend down, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you unbutton his shirt. Once it is off, you move onto his trousers. Then, when he is completely bare, you tuck his already sleeping form into bed.
You walk into the closet, laying his paint-stained clothes out on the chair for the maids to collect in the morning before changing into a nightgown yourself. Once you are ready for bed, you crawl in next to your husband, combing your fingers through his hair and watching as he smiles in his sleep. You wish that he will remember every word of what you said in the morning, but the logical part of you knows that he will not. Even so, you shall keep saying the things you did tonight until he believes them. You close your eyes, falling into a slumber right next to him, your fingers still curled into his hair.
He wakes far before you do at the crack of dawn, a usual occurrence when he has overindulged. He groans, rubbing a hand over his aching forehead. He cannot remember getting into bed or the events that transpired before he did, though he remembers bits and pieces. The image of the deep blue gown you came home wearing, the way your hair fell around your shoulders when he ran his hands through it, the sparkle of tears in your eyes...
He sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, his eyes immediately drifting over to your sleeping figure. He grins at the image before him. You look like an angel, sleeping on your stomach with your hair sprawled against your back and your lips parted ever so slightly. His grin only widens when you let out a soft sigh in your sleep, your eyebrows furrowing. He hums as he bends down, kissing down the notches of your spine.
You wake at the tingly feeling it sends through your body, grinning at the warmth that blooms in your chest. "Good morning." He murmurs from above you, brushing your hair out of your face just as you open your eyes. "Good morning." You whisper back, your hand coming up to rest over his. He looks heavenly, the morning light from the windows behind him making him look like a God. "You are positively beautiful in the morning, Ben." You hum as you stretch out, and he laughs. "No more beautiful than you, my heart." He returns, taking you into his arms and pulling you up to a sitting position.
You smile as he sits you in his lap, your arms settling loosely around his neck. "Do you remember anything about last night?" You murmur and he shakes his head, stroking your hair. "Just bits and pieces, I suppose." He hums, yawning as you press a kiss to his forehead. "You made a beautiful painting and then made me cry with your explanation." You smile and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours. "I am happy to know that my poetic tendencies do not fade when I am intoxicated." He grins and you giggle. "If anything they only grow stronger." You return, closing your eyes as the two of you lean on each other.
After a moment of comfortable silence, you decide to bring up the second part of last night. "You also expressed some insecurities, Ben. Like you always do." You whisper as you open your eyes. His eyes meet yours and he sighs, pulling back to rest his chin upon your head. "You need not worry about me, my love" He murmurs and you shake your head, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. "I do need to worry about you, Benedict. You are my husband. The man I am so hopelessly enamored with, the man I adore even when he is mumbling gibberish on the floor of his studio." You whisper.
He averts his gaze to your lap, playing with your fingers. "I said something foolish when I was intoxicated, Y/n. It is truly not worrisome. I do it often." He mumbles. "You said you needed saving from yourself, that is incredibly worrisome." You whisper and he sighs, looking up at you. "What if I am not enough?" He asks suddenly, and your eyes widen. "Whatever do you mean?" You breathe and he shrugs. "Just that. What if I am not enough, for you? What if you wake up one day and realize that I am a man with no purpose who creates silly paintings in his studio all day?" He asks.
"Benedict. You mustn't say that." You whisper, getting teary. When he begins to speak, you shake your head bringing him closer. "When I look at you, I see a man of incredible talent, passion, and depth. Your paintings are not silly; they are a reflection of your soul, a testament to your creativity and the beauty you see in the world. Each brushstroke is a piece of your heart, and I am in awe of the masterpieces you create. Every single one." You whisper, running your thumb along his cheekbone. He gives you a wobbly smile as he tries not to cry.
"But beyond your art, it is you—your kindness, your compassion, your strength, and your gentle spirit—that I cherish most. You give my life meaning and fill my days with joy and love. Your presence is a gift, and I am eternally grateful for every moment we share. I adore you more than any star in the sky. My love, you mustn't doubt that my love for you will never ebb." You continue and he smiles through tears as you pepper his face with kisses. You stay like that for a while, his forehead resting against your shoulder as you let him cry.
"It seems I married a woman who is just as poetic as I." He whispers after a long while, making you burst out in laughter. He pulls back with a crooked grin, peppering your face with kisses now. "My love, my light...." He whispers.
"How I adore you, my guardian angel." He murmurs.
#bridgerton#bridgerton fic#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton fluff#bridgerton fluff#fanfiction#imagine#benedict being a cutie pie#fluff#x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton/reader#benedict bridgerton/reader#benedict bridgerton/you#bridgerton x you
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Don't Kill My Vibe
Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.
Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids
A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by me
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.
And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.
When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.
You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.
You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.
His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.”
“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”
So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.
“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”
Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale.
You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”
Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him.
He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil!
Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.
Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.
“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.
“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.
You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.
Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.
“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.
It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.
“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.
Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.
“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.
“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.
“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.
“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.
That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time.
1. Clark is single.
2. Clark is literally in your lap.
3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.
Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy.
“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.
“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.
As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”
Oh, the importance of phrasing.
This man is not going to make it easy on you.
You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.
An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor.
“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.
“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.
“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”
Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-
One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands.
His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.
Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black.
You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.
“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”
Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.
He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.
Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it.
You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear.
You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”
“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.
Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips.
You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.
With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.
But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.
You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time.
Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.
“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.
Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.
“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”
You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.
Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.
Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.
“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.
“Yes!” he exclaims.
“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.
Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.
With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway.
🍃The End🍃
A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!
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EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR
This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;)
DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE
I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4
I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.
DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER
A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?” “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5
DISTRICT 7
Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19
So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.
DISTRICT 5
I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour. <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…> As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s. // Mockingjay, ch. 16
Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit
DISTRICT 2
Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15
This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13. Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.
DISTRICT 12
When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6
When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.
#yes I redraw some of them#old ones looked bad#ugh#the hunger games#hunger games fanart#everlark#everlark fanart#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#katniss and peeta#thg fanart#lynx hunger games#lynx thg outfits#victory tour#catching fire#catching fire fanart
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Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.
Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)
Word count: 5.8k
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“
“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.
You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”
You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”
Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”
“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”
He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”
You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”
He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.
If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.
“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”
Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.
One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.
Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.
“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”
“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”
“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.
Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.
“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”
“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.
“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”
You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.
——
About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”
Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”
“Something just fe-“
Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.
“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.
As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.
“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.
“I-“
“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.
Six men coming to form an arch around her.
“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”
“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”
You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”
“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“
“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“
“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”
She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”
“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”
“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.
The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”
She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”
You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”
“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”
You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”
“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”
You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.
Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.
You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.
“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.
The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”
The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“
“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”
“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.
“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”
You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.
You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.
You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.
“Are you going to piss or wh-“
You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.
You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.
“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.
You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.
He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.
He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.
As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.
You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.
He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.
You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.
His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.
You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.
She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”
She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”
“M’fine. We don’t have time.”
You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.
As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”
“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.
“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”
“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”
“I swear to god if-“
“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.
You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.
Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.
You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.
“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“
He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”
The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.
Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.
You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.
He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.
One of the guards from
You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.
He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.
. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.
Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.
And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.
The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.
“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.
“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”
You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”
“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”
Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.
You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”
She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.
The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.
You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.
“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.
She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.
“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”
“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.
As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.
You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”
She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.
She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”
“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”
“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.
She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“
Now you were pissed.
Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.
You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.
You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.
You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.
You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.
You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.
More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.
“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.
You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.
“Y/n! duck!”
You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.
The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.
You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”
She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.
The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, “Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”
“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”
“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.
Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.
You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.
The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.
As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,
It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.
She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”
“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”
Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”
“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”
Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”
“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”
“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.
“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.
You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”
Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”
——
About two hours later, you finally reached home.
Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.
“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.
“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.
You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”
That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.
“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”
Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.
You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.
“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.
“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”
He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”
“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”
You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”
“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“
You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”
“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”
You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.
You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”
Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.
“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.
“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”
You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”
Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”
He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”
“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”
Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”
You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”
“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.
“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”
You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”
“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.
“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”
“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”
“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”
You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.
“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”
You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”
You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”
You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.
“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”
“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”
“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”
“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”
“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“
“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.
He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.
“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.
Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.
“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”
“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”
You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”
Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”
He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.
Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”
You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”
You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.
He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.
He blames himself, and you knew that, too.
Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.
You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.
You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”
“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”
He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.
“Can you help me sit up?”
Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.
“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”
“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”
“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“
“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”
You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”
He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”
You nod, “Thank you.”
He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”
“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”
Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”
He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”
He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”
“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.
You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”
He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.
You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”
You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”
“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”
He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”
“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”
Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”
He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”
You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”
He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.
You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.
“You know you called me baby a few times.”
Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”
There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”
Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”
You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.
Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”
He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”
She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”
——
Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
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Sunrise
Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.
To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.
A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.
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Alright, fellas, next entry to the @blitzbee-week event is finally here)). The prompt of the second day was "Sunrise" and I decided to go more figuratively with it rather then depicting a literal "appearance of the sky" at a particular part of a day. As you can guess by a provided description, Bee basically becomes a "leading star" for a brooding Blitzwing, who, as it seems, is not that thrilled by discovery of his partner.
Just as a previous entry to a mentioned event, this picture is dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". Here's a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story if anyone wants to give it a try. Again, can not thank you enough for all the support you've shown for it so far, I will try my best to come up with updates soon enough.
As it usually goes with such works of mine, I will provide the full snippet of one of chapters, which a depicted scene is taken from, under a cut line for anyone wishing to read more about the scene. Hope you'll enjoy it)
To the surprise of many comrades he’d worked with, the Triplechanger proved to be the most patient mech on a team when it came to long lasting missions. Usually he didn’t find it difficult to lay low and wait for orders to come, even if it meant to stay idle for several solar cycles. It was a useful trait of character which Decepticon rightfully prided himself of.
Yet, even a seemingly boundless patience had its limits.
“Can you see anything of use out there?” Blitzwing finally asked his unfortunate “partner in crime”.
A brightly colored mech slipped on the spot upon hearing Con’s voice but managed to regain his balance.
“Not yet, Blitzwing, give me a klik!” A minibot shouted over his shoulder, holding on the steel bar for dear life. “Climbing is not as easy as I’m surely making it look in your optics.”
If Bumblebee planed to cheer up a Warframe with such a comment, he failed miserably, for it only seemed to sour up an already bad mood of a tall mech.
To a Decepticon, it felt like forever since the minibot began his ascend up a steep scarp of a crumbled wall. One would think that, thanks to his light frame, he’d manage to reach the top level in no time. But even this uneven terrain, made of torn sheets of metal and broken cables, proved to be a challenge to an agile Autobot.
The damned energy chain, which linked limbs of both mechs to each other, clearly was the greatest obstacle for Bumblebee, barely giving him a chance to move as far away from a somber mech as possible. Not to mention that a Decepticon was forced to stand on one pede in order to accommodate his companion’s slow conquest of new heights.
Admittedly, a Triplechanger considered an option of tearing the bug’s pede he’s bound to off. But that type of cuffs always latched onto anything in their vicinity (while being activated). Meaning, the chances of getting tied to a nearby wall, as a result of said actions, reached more than 90%.
Tearing his own pede off was not part of a Warframe’s plans.
“If you haven’t noticed it yet, Bumblebee Prime, we don’t have plenty of time left to hide in these tunnels,” A “former” convict grumbled in response while surveying his surroundings for an up-tenth time. He didn’t notice how a Bot winced at the mention of his new title.
Minibot knew he deserved that snide remark. But it did not make him feel better about his recent promotion to an Elite Guard. Or about a decision to become one for that matter. The decision which led to a situation where an Autobot and a Decepticon got lost under an Iacon city.
They had to hide in maintenance tunnels from the times prior to a Great War. Tunnels built by Decepticons for Autobots’ use, and left by them to slowly rot in an utter disrepair after the said War was officially ended. Sealed off since the banishment of Warframes from Cybertron, eventually the structure turned into an urban myth not many of currently living mechs remember or even know about.
An old complex Blitzwing and Bumblbee were currently navigating in was once part of the major supportive structure. Meant to protect veins and tubes once full of energon, that section was made of sturdy materials which stoically passed the test of time.
The Decepticon would’ve lied if he’d said he’s not pleasantly surprised by that discovery.
But it did not bright up his mood by much - they still needed to find a way to the surface level of a planet.
“Foolish of me to expect a scout with no field experience to do a Warframe’s job,” the mech muttered under his breath, words bitter on his glossa. “Perhaps I should have been the one to search for an exit after all”.
Blitzwing had no intent for the last sentence to be heard by his peer, but an aforementioned scout, apparently, had nicely tuned audials.
Figures.
“And to risk exposing your Decepticon signature to raging authorities? No, thanks!” Bumblebee chirped after successfully reaching for a rod sticking out of a long abandoned structure. “It was already enough of me putting everything at risk by making stupid decisions - I don’t want to see you following my lead.”
Somehow the fact that a minibot admitted his mistakes helped to somewhat cool Blitzwing down. He said nothing in return but did glance at him once prior returning to surveying desolated surroundings.
Bumbler’s changed since the promotion to the ranks of an Elite Guard. He seemed to act more mature, even if he’s still naive about most things happening around him. For strangers it’d be an unexpected change of character for such an optimistic and energetic Bot as Bumblebee. But Blitzwing was no random outsider, whether he liked to be on closer terms with a current companion of his or not.
Death of a teammate has effected the minibot on a much deeper level then he’d ever admit to anybody, even to himself. Yet, despite how horrible it might’ve sounded, the Decepticon thought that that was an important lesson every soldier had to live through. And as a mech, who’s witnessed deaths of many of his comrades throughout the Great War, he had to agree that Bumbler was holding up pretty well for someone so inexperienced in mentioned matters.
Even Blitzwing, who did not know Prowl as well as a yellow Bot did, felt the loss of a mech effecting him as well to a certain degree. No matter how secluded and cold the cyber-ninja seemed to be, he always had a special aura around him, the one that made people feel at ease in his presence. Though how he could so freely speak to a Con about importance of life and probability of peace among Cybertronians remained a mystery to him to that solar cycle.
What was that thing black and golden Autobot’s talking about during the last conversation of theirs?
“To have Faith not in Primus, not in The Allspark, but in each other”?
What exactly made him see it being possible back then and, especially, at a current stage of the reignited conflict between factions? Triplechanger had no answer to that question either. He didn’t view how the world should work the same way Prowl did. Could not fully comprehend the intricacies of a philosophy of an Autobot, but, at least, did not lack the courage to make it very clear during a mentioned discussion of theirs.
Blitzwing didn’t have Faith in anyone anymore, and he surely wouldn't in a foreseen future.
For who could remain being supportive of their unhelpful, unwanted partn-… Autobot, while being lost in Allspark forsaken place with no means of escape?
…
“… -es! I see the gap in a wall!.. Blitzwing, I actually see it!”
The joyful voice tore Triplechanger from a deep melancholy state he slipped into while looking down a dark tunnel to his left. He raised his ruby optics, their faint glow barely lighting sharp features of his blue faceplates.
“Right where you’ve predicted it to be,” The Autobot added after turning around in order to face his unfortunate companion, unintentionally giving him quite a peculiar view of his small form.
Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.
To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.
A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.
...
Blitzwing huffed in mild annoyance at himself and his artistic side of a processor - it was not the right moment for poetic comparisons. Hope and Faith had no place in a situation he was stuck in, only cold calculations. He and Bumbler had to get out of that place, no matter the cost. And the sooner they’d get rid of an energy chain, the better.
#blitzbeeweek2024#blitzbee#bumbleblitz#tfa blitzwing#tfa bumblebee#tfa prowl#blitzwing#bumblebee#prowl#transformers#transformers animated#tfa#TFA: Icarus#gn projects
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I'm going to be asking a lot of artists I follow this question, but how did you develop your style? It SEEMS like most people find their style and stick with it forever, just making improvements and iterations. I tend to work in a lot of different styles because I enjoy doing that, though I know there are things I gravitate towards as well. But I wonder what your journey was and how you got feedback and improved while staying true to what you enjoyed?
Hi there!
I definitely wouldn't say that I've found my style and stuck with it forever-- I feel like each of my projects has asked for a certain kind of art, and has presented new challenges that push me in new directions.
Some of that comes from seeing someone else's work and having something click into place that might fix errors/faults in my own, and then I might try to incorporate that, such as bigger outlines on my characters to help distinguish them from the background, or maybe a way someone else simplifies eyes that can help make mine look less weird.
When I first started drawing, I can see where I encountered certain influences because my sketchbooks suddenly switch to incorporating some new stylistic element that I liked from whatever I was reading/watching at the time. But it was never QUITE right, it was never just copying, there was always something ~wrong~ with it. And that wrongness was my style! As much as I hated it, that was what distinguished my art from being just a copy of someone else's. I hate it less now, and understand that other people see something there that maybe I don't, because it's just what happens when I filter other people's work through my head. My soul, if you will.
There are definitely through-lines with my work, driven by what I like drawing and what comes easily to me-- hatching is almost always a major component, and I like making expressive characters. Here's some of my earliest available stuff, from my old webcomic:
Then not long after that, I started The Last Halloween, which pushed me to challenge myself in both layout and style:
And here's the same comic, years later:
And here's a series I did for kids, where I had to use full color and lay off on the hatching, as well as learn how to reconstruct animals that we have no photo references for, which is definitely a place where style comes majorly into play, whether I wanted it to or not:
Then there was the horror book I did, where I tried to push my work to be less cartoony overall, and to work very hard on improving my hatching:
Then I started work on Scarlet Hollow, where I incorporated a limited/muted palette and had to once again push myself to make less-cartoony art, as well as learn more consistency so I could draw sprite sets. This was a big challenge for me, and has helped me grow as an artist so much!
And most recently, I wrapped up work on Slay the Princess, which required that I go back in the cartoony direction, but in a very different way than I was used to. This took a lot of sketching to figure out, and there's still a decent amount of artistic stumbling in Chapter 1 while I settled into it.
She's drawing on anime/Disney influence, but each Princess required a bit of stylistic variability. Some are more anime, while some are more realistic than even the Scarlet Hollow characters.
So I wouldn't worry too much, honestly! A person's style is often something that reveals itself over the course of their career, rather than something they choose and then try to stick to forever.
Even if you don't think you have a style, you do. It might vary a lot piece by piece, especially if you're trying to closely imitate another person's art, but the more work you do, the more you'll figure out your own strengths and interests!
#long post#my art#junior scientist power hour#the last halloween#abby howard#scarlet hollow#slay the princess#once you work long enough on art#style starts to feel more like modes you switch in and out of#all based around a core of what you're good at and what you can do#which in itself will change sometimes!#and of course your style with different mediums is gonna be different too#like slay the princess is pencil which is why it looks more distinct from my other work#never forget that at its core art is about messin around#wait shoot i should've put all this in the post#but it's long enough as it is
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PROMPTS FROM SHREK
* assorted dialogue from the 2001 film, adjust as necessary
two things, okay? shut... up.
you didn't slay the dragon?
some of you may die... but it's a sacrifice i am willing to make.
they judge me before they even know me. that's why i'm better off alone.
how will you kiss me?
that wasn't in the job description!
what is so funny?
let's just say... i'm not your type.
pick me! pick me!
i've got a dragon and i'm not afraid to use it!
now really, it's rude enough being alive when no one wants you, but showing up uninvited to a wedding?
it's a compliment! better out than in, i always say.
you can't tell me you're afraid of heights.
let's do that again!
what's that? it's hideous.
only a true friend would be that cruelly honest!
well, technically, you're not a king.
the battle is won.
so where is this fire-breathing pain in the neck, anyway?
hey, don't look at me. i didn't invite them.
it's on my to-do list!
you're meant to charge in, sword drawn, banners flying!
that's not the point!
huh, celebrity marriages. they never last, do they?
that'll do, [name]. that'll do.
you're going the right way for a smacked bottom.
well, that's not very nice. it's just a donkey.
where are you going? the exit's over there!
i have to save my ass.
what kind of a knight are you?
i was talking about the dragon.
man, this would be so much easier if i wasn't color-blind.
we can stay up late, swapping manly stories, and in the morning... i'm making waffles!
whoa, look at that. who'd wanna live in a place like that?
that... would be my home.
i think i need a hug.
you're a monster!
we were forced to come here!
you know, you're really quite a decorator!
it's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget!
i like that boulder. that is a nice boulder.
you know, not everybody likes onions.
everybody loves cake!
i don't care what everyone likes!
have you ever met a person, you say, "let's get some parfait," they say, "hell no, i don't like parfait."
end of story! bye bye! see ya later!
parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet!
it talks?
i'm not the monster here, you are!
now tell me, where are the others!
eat me!
i've tried to be fair to you creatures, but now my patience has reached its end.
all right then! who's hiding them?
oh you're going to love it there.
men of his stature are in short supply.
it's getting him to shut up that's the trick!
hey, what's your problem [name], what you got against the whole world anyway, huh?
i'll find those stairs.
look, i'm not the one with the problem, okay? it's the world that seems to have a problem with me.
do you think he's maybe compensating for something?
hey, where're you going?
oh man, i can't feel my toes!
take a look at me. what am i?
doesn't that bother you?
man, i like you. what's your name?
you're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy, you're afraid of your own feelings.
there you are, doing it again!
oh... oh this is all my fault.
you can't do this to me! i'm too young for you to die!
you gotta warn somebody before you just crack one off, my mouth was open and everything.
believe me, if it was me... you'd be dead.
i steal from the rich and give to the needy.
man, that was annoying.
i was sent to rescue you.
i'm supposed to be rescued by my true love!
your job is not my problem.
you love this woman, don't you?
i don't want to rush into a physical relationship.
like that's ever gonna happen!
why are you following me?
stop singing!
it's no wonder you don't have any friends!
#rp meme#mcflymemes#rp memes#rp prompt#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters#shrek
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That basketball player | Lhs.
Paring: Heeseung X M!reader | Genre: SMUT
Synopsis: Since when did heeseung get that big glow up? Back in the junior year he was just a guy with his bang covering his forehead but now? You can't help but to stare at him every time he is playing basketball, jingling.
Cw: masturbate in the bathroom, bigger cock Heeseung, drunk, public explicit scenes, cursing, no plot Ig, alone time, mentioned of cum, stained etc. [18+] mdni
Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.
This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio
A#N: Yo what! I feel pity to leave y'all alone with my no update so here a smut hardcore, before I vanish once again. (Yes this is me, a bit freaky than usual ಥ‿ಥ
Being friends with a sports guy like Heeseung is not an easy job, nor is it for your mental, freaky mind. Every time you were there, watching him practice for the competition. You can't find but to stare at a little distracted place, like a weirdo. However, it's not one fault side; since Heeseung does have his own package ever since then, it'd be a jingle bell at every instance.
Not to mention, back in the junior year, Heeseung is just a guy who just hit puberty, freshly adult, bang cover all his forehead like a nerd. In the meantime, all that matters transformed into this: a hot guy with a huge beard that could squeeze a lemon, a slender yet masculine frame from head to toes, and the most glow-up part was probably his middle part.
Which you can't help but to wonder while nosebleed; imagine how'd it look like to be sight. And so on, wondering turns into reality when it's happening during the party of one of your classmates. Walking in the bathroom, as you thought nobody was there with no light on, until when the lights flickered, you were stunned, your hearts just doing a back flip once you saw the tipsy Heeseung who's jerking off on the toilet.
Omfg, is this for real? Think to yourself. Can't hide the red blush that was painted on your face, you immediately apologize and leave; however, before you could, a large hand appeared and pinged you against the door, allowing you to escape this awkward situation.
"Hmm... M/n? What a surprise to see you here during my alone time," said the half-drunk guy, looking down to see his cock peeking through his zipper, naked. In front of you, but did he care? No. You swallow down, feel like a stone stuck in your breath—this is just a dream wake-up.
Your reaction was funny enough to make Heeseung chuckle out; you seem to be nervous, shy, and lately a bit of a turn-on.
"We're alone, aren't we? Now don't hide your true colors, bud; I know you've always wanted this, isn't that right?" Heeseung claim, pointed out right through you. No way he caught you in act, but where? Yet there's no use right now to wonder about it; a big gigantic cock is staring at you right now; he was so hard his cum is leaking out, desperate for some way out of those balls.
Out of surprise, you snapped as Heeseung let out a moan, in contact with his skin too close to yours. Cover your face with your palm to evade your crazy mess face; his pre-cum began to stain on your pants!
"Fuck m/n, take a hold of it. Before I change my mind, I'm not sober," panicking Sprint free in your vein as you shudder to his words, Should you or shouldn't? This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is so rare, you wouldn't want to go to waste.
Seeing you froze in the spot, back pressed against the door too much, Heeseung snatched one of your hands and wrapped them around his shaft. Lord, have mercy.
"Ahh, so good, m/n, euuu, that's right," biting his lip, his back arching forward, thrusting inside of your palm in rhythm. Both of his hands are pinning you in between, while he endures in pleasure. No word to say; you seem to enjoy what you're doing. His foreskin moved up and down, his tip peeking in every stroke.
Heeseung's freaky side was not what you expected; he was far more wild. Your surroundings are no longer your priority; you didn't care if anyone might hear. Continue to please the man of your dreams; no, this is a dream to be able to touch him, your friend.
A few more strokes, his hip bucking more and more needy, his balls later slipped out of his underwear, come out before slapping against the friction of his own pant. As a result, the fire in him turned on even better. Both of you can't think straight, locked in this bathroom, just the two, enjoying times together.
"Cum... I need to cum m/n!! I'm going to piss Ahh Ahh FUCK." He's knees weaken. The hands that are pinning you in find their way to belt around your waist, despairing for support, before a load of hot cum splashes out on both clothes. Heeseung is indeed sensitive; that might as well be one of his weaknesses for your dictionary.
He then falls down on the floor on his knees finally, as he leans against the wall nearby in this tight space. Draining out and overwhelmed by the masturbation. Little did you know, there's also a stain in your pants too, not only from Heeseung's cum stained. Ugh, he got you in anyway possible.
"Shit..." A couple of minutes passed, his brows furrowing while his eyes shut, before he pissed out for real.
"I—damn it."
#enhypen#enha x male reader#enhypen x male reader#heeseung x reader#heeseung smut#lee heeseung x reader#lee heesung smut#lee heesung x reader#lee heeseung#heeseung#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enha smau#enha smut#enha imagines#enha x you#enha fluff#enhypen scenarios#kpop x male reader#enha x reader#enha scenarios#enha fanfic#enhypen fanfiction
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