Hello I'm Flora and I like to write and read fanfiction
I am queer, genderfluid, and black!
I have another account for shifting stuff called @froggyshifts1
This account is dedicated to oneshots, drabbles, and fics.
I'll write for most characters from the fandoms I'm in
I mostly write fem!reader so please specify in asks if you want gn! or male!
Some heads up below:
Requested fics specifically may take longer than fics I choose to write myself.
I HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO ANSWER YOUR ASKS. IF YOUR REQUEST GOES AGAINST MY RULES I WILL NOT WRITE.
You can find moodboards I make at @moodboardsbaby
Blog for my interests: @lotsoftalking
Blog for my dumbass thoughts: @liquidsmooth9
DNI IF YOU ARE:
RACIST
HOMOPHOBIC
TRANSPHOBIC
SEXIST
IF YOU DISRESPECT RELIGIONS AND BELIEFS DIFFERENT FROM YOURS. YOU CAN HAVE A DIFFERENT OPINIONS BUT DO NOT GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO INSULT OR DISRESPECT SOMEONE ELSE'S
Who I'll write for
MASTERLIST
WIPS (WORKS IN PROGRESS)
I WILL/DO write:
Fluff
Angst
Platonic reader
Teen reader
I MIGHT/SOMETIMES write:
Something suggestive/very light smut but not full smut (like making out and VERY short and vague descriptions of sexual activities)
If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.
If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform
None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.
Posting this here from my main too bc I feel that strongly about it
You dont get to witch hunt and scour peoples work just frothing at the mouth hoping someone messes up so you can publicly humiliate and gang up on them. Fuck genai and every single poser and lover that uses it but if you are not 1000000000% certain that something is made with it you shut. the. fuck. up.
I'm about to get mean because this shit? this pisses me all the way off.
"hurr durr these very common writing practices are SUPER OBVIOUS AI TELLS!!!!!!!!!! obviously this is an AI invention and not the result of AI being trained on THOUSANDS OF REAL FUCKING STORIES!!!!!!! we're all very intelligent!!!!!!!"
I hate yall. I hate yall for fucking ruining fanfic with your goddamn motherfucking AI obsession. "ooh there's em dashes!" YEAH REAL WRITERS USE THOSE. "there's long paragraphs!" YEAH BECAUSE THATS HOW PEOPLE WRITE STORIES.
we're not "writing like AI" - AI is writing like us, because it fucking stole from us in the first fucking place.
I've never used AI in my work, not ever, but guess what, my fics are ALL written like that. long paragraphs, long sentences, em dashes and hyphens and other grammatical tools, because I fucking know HOW TO WRITE.
quite frankly, if you think these things are "genAI inventions" you're just telling the world that YOU DON'T READ ENOUGH.
I know it's been over two years since I wrote part 1, and I know that nobody probably cares but here's a sneak peak of part 2 of my xenk yendar one-shot
Seeing a small surge of likes on my renfield oneshot since July 11 and I have reason to believe it may be because of the release of the new superman movie. This may just be giving me motivation to write another.
Pairings: Rick Grimes x teen!reader, Daryl Dixon x teen!reader, Carl Grimes x teen!reader, Michonne Hawthorne x teen!reader, Aaron x teen!reader, Negan x teen!reader, Rosita Espinosa x teen!reader, Eugene Porter x teen!reader, Sasha Williams x teen!reader (all of them are platonic)
Requested by: @leahsbasement may i request a teen or child g/n reader that’s really close to the twd group and during the lineup they’re one of the people chosen by negan to yknow- receive the glenn and abraham treatment💀 and like we get some reactions from the group from it🧎 i apologize if this sounds really morbid but i am dire need of some good angst and i love your writing sm it’s amazing <3
Warnings: reader death, angst, a tad bit of fluff (definitely not much), mention of character death, description of Negan doing what he did to Glenn and Abraham, blood, mention of a brutal way to die, idk what more I guess you have all seen twd so you know what might be in this. Not proofread
A/N as usual the gif is not mine, found it somewhere on the internet. This is not proofread, well half of it is.
Now I tried to do a reaction with all of the people at the line up so sorry with Sasha I guess bc I don’t like her so found it a bit hard to write her as a character that’s close to the reader, and once more thank you for the request, it gave me an excuse to write this
Anyway idk what I think of this, wrote it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, so anyway hope you like it.
Everybody dies a little when the brightest soul disappears.
A sea of red water mixed with the gravel and mud on the ground. The trail of blood — that had gone its own path from the puddle it was previously in, could be followed towards two bodies. One of a hunched man, who racked with sobs through his entire body. His hands grasped towards the body before him. Blood still oozed from the head. Or what someone would once have called a head, as it was now just remains of smashed bones and brain goo. The once familiar face was unrecognizable to anyone. No one would ever be able to pinpoint who the body belonged to, because the head atop of it was gone. It had been smashed into a puddle of goo. No one would ever be able to see your smiling face, or the mischievous smirk that pulled at your lips whenever you wanted to rebel a bit. Nor would they ever see the sparkles in your eyes whenever you talked about the things you liked.
No one of the group surrounding the three bodies wanted to acknowledge what had happened. How could they. They’d all just seen three of their family members die, because of their actions. Because of them. The teenager in which the hunched man had taken a tight grip of their hands had warned them about the attack. That nothing good would come out of it, that it wasn’t who they were. Rick had been wrong like everyone else to ignore the teenager’s warnings. In the end it was what cost them your life. Their choice of actions had been the beginning of your end.
Rick couldn’t let the image out of his head, he couldn’t even look at your body as he held you tightly. His eyes stared into the distance at nothing in particular as his mind tried to register what had happened just a few hours ago. His cries had stopped only for his eyes to glaze over once more with tears. He couldn’t help but to think that it was all his fault. He had the final vote on what to do, and his vote caused your death. It caused Negan to seek them out. To line them up. To smash your head with his goddamn wired baseball bat. His goddamn Lucille. He swore to kill Negan if it was the last thing he did, whether you would want him to or not, he needed to. Rick wanted nothing more than revenge. Nothing more than justice and revenge brought to you, Glenn and Abraham.
Not soon after Rick had stopped crying his son had walked over to you and him. His eye was bloodshot by the tears that rolled down his red cheek. And his hand went up to rub his eye off the tears as he tried to control himself, as he sat beside his father. Same as everyone else at the brutal scene he couldn’t let go of the events. How everyone got a look of dread and fear on their face as Negan announced that he’d had to kill two more because of Daryl’s little outburst. Carl had glanced at his father to see that for once under this meeting he held actual fear in his eyes when Negan’s bat had landed in front of you. It was deadly quiet as all of the group watched you stare dead into the eyes of Negan who looked at you with a scary face, gleaming with excitement as he noticed everyone’s reaction.
Negan had watched with glee as everyone went into submission after Lucille had stopped in front of you. He’d felt kinda sorry for you. He didn’t usually kill teenagers but something about you annoyed him so greatly. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look with fear into his eyes, how you held your own, even with the knowledge that you would soon be dead. He didn’t know what it was but he had decided to kill you, well he decided in a way.
Maggie who had lost her husband and father to her child, stared with emptiness at you. She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it if you died as well. She had tried to fight the man holding her down, but to no vain. Her already bloodshot eyes had filled with tears and sobbed had shook through her body as soon as she saw Negan start to swing his bat. She didn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t. But her silent prayer came to no good end.
Rosita was no better than Maggie. Since the first time you met when you and Glenn together with Tara searched for Maggie the two of you had gotten close and she as everyone else got flashes of your lives together. Of all your good and bad memories of everything you had survived. How you’d found an apple tree that hadn’t been destroyed at a random location in the forest and thrown apples at your companions heads as they hadn’t stopped when you told them to. Or how you’d draw drawings with the kids in Alexandria or help hunting and scavenging for food. Getting stuck in a building while a herd of walkers walked past. The blood and the gore of every kill. All of them comforting you while you cried yourself to sleep, all the cuddles you forced them into, especially Rick and Daryl. How you forced them to take a break so that they wouldn’t overwork themselves while doing the exact same thing. Needing help from others to make sure you actually took care of yourself and not just everyone else. It just made them all get to the brink of breaking even quicker as they thought of all your moments together. Not only did memories flash inside your head, nor only Rosita’s they flashed through everyone. You had always looked out for them and what had they given you in return, nothing but death.
Sasha wasn’t especially close to you but the previous death of Abraham and Glenn and now you had her at her breaking point. She might not have known you well but you were a good kid, you helped and knew how to survive. You didn’t take unnecessary risks and you’d helped her through her losses. So she tried nothing more than to break herself away from reality as she heard the bat make contact with your head. It reminded her too much of the other two kills and she couldn’t look through another one, not again.
Eugene only stared at the distance as sobs racked through his body not being able to watch you die. He couldn’t even bring his eyes to look at you afterwards, he’d never be able to erase the short scream of pain that had left your lips. He was at a loss of words and he wouldn’t be able to really function in a few days, much like everyone else. He was scared shitless and he didn’t know for anything in the world what to do or say in the hours that came after.
Negan had looked at everyone, gauging even the slightest reaction out of them. Michonne had watched helplessly at you, she’d tried not to flinch everytime the bat hit you among a sound she’d never wished she ever heard ever in her life. The only thing on her mind was how she taught you how to sword fight or when you hunted a deer together and accidentally fell into a puddle of mudd getting every inch of you covered in it.
Arron, who had been right beside you, wanted to crawl away as your blood splashed onto the right side of him. He remembered all the times you’d gone over to him and Eric to eat pasta not wanting to socialize with the rest of Alexandria. You’d always go to him or Daryl.
Arron felt sick as he felt your warm blood on his cold cheek, and he felt even more sick as he made a glance at Daryl who didn’t do anything else but staring with regret and anger at your body who now laid lifeless on the ground. When Aaron dared a glance at you his throat became thick and a sob threatened to come out but he didn’t make a sound instead he stared at you before he looked with fear, numbness, anger and defeat at Negan.
But it wasn’t until Negan had looked at Rick Carl and Daryl did he notice that he sure as hell picked the wrong one to kill, deep inside, he knew that he’d just started a war. A war that wouldn’t take too long to brew over to the real fight. However he was filled with glee over getting a few peaceful weeks at reveling in his power and control over Alexandria. Maybe that would make the war something never to come, how wrong he had been on that thought.
Daryl felt nothing but guilt as he looked at you and it was all he thought of when he got loaded into the car and the Saviours drove away with him. He regretted having lashed out. Regretted ever getting angry. Daryl knew more than anyone that he’d miss you when you were gone. Like Beth, he’d miss you, even more so than Beth.
Carl had held a strong front, but on the inside he was breaking he lost his best friend and the only kid that had been with him since the beginning of the disaster they now lived in.
Now in the present Carl placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder as everyone surrounded your body (except for Maggie, Sasha, Rosita and Eugene). The two Grimes hugged each other as Carl dug his head into Rick’s chest. The older Grimes, having stopped his crying once more, tried his best to comfort his son while he himself was still breaking.
Rick, like Carl and Daryl, had held a shield with spikes as defense against Negan, as they had all starred with the same thought of killing Negan running through their heads. They had let a numb shield cover them while their enemies still surrounded them. They hadn’t let go of the shield until their enemies were gone. (Or in Daryl’s case until he was alone in the cell he was placed in at the sanctuary).
That day, the day you died, was the day everyone in Alexandria died a little with you. You were the brightest soul in most of their lives and to lose you was one of the worst things to ever happen to any of them.
synopsis: tony might've been a great superhero but he wasn't a great father.
genre: angst
word count: 2.9k
Part I
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU HELD THE INVITATION out to him, hands trembling slightly with excitement. “It’s this Saturday,” you said, voice soft but eager. “It’s a science fair, and I’ve been working really hard on this project. I thought… maybe you’d like to come?”
Tony barely looked up, the usual hum of his holographic screens reflecting in his tired eyes. But then he caught sight of the hope in your gaze, and he finally nodded, taking the invitation with a small smile. “Yeah, sure, kiddo,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
That simple promise was enough for you. Every evening that week, you stayed up late perfecting each part of the project, tweaking every detail. You didn’t want to win the science fair; you just wanted Tony to see it, to see you, and to feel proud.
When Saturday arrived, you were nervous but excited. You set up your stall carefully, double-checking each piece of the project display, hoping it would be something that would catch his eye. As people wandered through the fair, they stopped by your booth, impressed by the level of detail and precision in your work.
But every time you scanned the crowd, you didn’t see him. Your heart sank as parents, teachers, and students came and went, praising your project. The minutes slipped by, and the fair began to wind down. The chair beside you remained empty.
Finally, the awards were announced. They called your name, and a polite round of applause filled the room as you accepted the medal and certificate, trying to smile as people congratulated you. You told yourself it didn’t matter. It was just another award, another paper. But deep down, you felt the disappointment settle like a weight in your chest. You didn’t want the medal—you wanted him to be there, even just to see you in the crowd.
Later that night, Tony stepped out of his workshop, exhausted but satisfied with his work. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a drink and mindlessly sipping when his gaze fell on something bright and familiar—the invitation you’d given him, stuck to the fridge door.
The words “Science Fair” stood out in big, hopeful letters.
He froze, feeling his stomach twist with guilt as he read the details: Saturday, 2 PM. It was hours past now. He’d missed it. And you’d been waiting, hoping he’d show.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, setting his glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. Panic flickered in his chest as he wondered if he could still make it. He’d go, tell you he was sorry, anything to make up for it. He was about to leave when he heard footsteps behind him.
“Tony,” Natasha’s voice was low but carried a weight of disappointment. She stood at the kitchen entrance, her arms crossed as she looked at him with a quiet, disappointed frown. “I picked her up an hour ago.”
Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, and his shoulders sagged. He had missed it, and not just by a few minutes. He’d missed you showing your project, your moment, everything.
Without another word, he made his way to your room, heart heavy with regret. He stopped in front of your door, hesitating. A soft knock, and he waited. When no response came, he opened the door quietly, stepping inside.
The sight made his chest tighten. You were asleep on the floor, curled up against the bed, your cheeks stained with dried tears. Next to you, the medal and certificate were tossed aside, the project itself lying on its side, carelessly left where you must’ve dropped it. His heart clenched seeing the once carefully crafted project in pieces, as if it were something you no longer cared about, just like you must have felt he didn’t care.
Tony crouched down, lifting the project gently and turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened as he realized what you’d been working on—an arc reactor prototype, similar to his own designs, with an ingenious twist on the core structure. It was something he’d been experimenting with in his own work, but you’d done it independently. Quietly. He could see the hours you’d poured into it, the dedication in every small piece.
His gaze shifted to the medal and certificate, his thumb brushing over the engraved words: First Place, Science Fair.
He picked up the project, medal, and certificate, gently placing them on your desk, handling them with the care you’d given them in the first place. After a moment’s thought, he walked down the hall to the room where his collection of awards and trophies sat, things he’d earned and displayed with pride. He added your certificate and medal to the shelf among them, a quiet acknowledgment of your accomplishment, and of the pride he should’ve shown you himself.
Returning to your room, he leaned down and carefully gathered you in his arms, lifting you from the floor. You shifted slightly in his hold, but you didn’t wake. He gently placed you on your bed, pulling a blanket over you and brushing a few strands of hair from your face. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry, kiddo.”
He pulled back, watching you with a mix of regret and sadness. You deserved a father who showed up, a father who was there to tell you how proud he was. He’d promised you once before, and he’d broken that promise again. But seeing the tear stains on your cheeks and the way you’d fallen asleep waiting, he vowed, right then and there, to make things right.
After the science fair, something inside you changed. You had spent years hoping, wishing for Tony’s attention, his presence. But that day, sitting alone as he’d failed to show up yet again, you felt something break. Maybe it was the last piece of hope you’d held onto, or maybe it was the realization that you couldn’t keep waiting for him.
The disappointment was too much, and you decided you were done.
From that day on, you stopped seeking him out, stopped waiting for the promises he never kept. You didn’t make him coffee in the mornings, didn’t check if he’d eaten. You stopped wandering into his lab, hoping he might turn around and finally see you. Instead, you kept to yourself, focusing on school, friends, and the occasional training session with the Avengers. When you did cross paths with Tony, you barely said a word, nodding politely before walking away.
At first, Tony didn’t notice, assuming you were just busy. But after a few days, he realized that he hadn’t seen you come by the workshop. You hadn’t shown up with coffee, hadn’t peeked into his lab to see what he was working on. He started to notice the quiet absence of your presence, the hollow ache that settled in his chest when he realized that you were no longer there, waiting for him.
He began trying to find ways to pull you back. He left notes on your door, asking if you wanted to join him for a quick meal, but you didn’t respond. He tried to catch you before school, only to find you’d already left early. Once or twice, he even came into the kitchen to find you already grabbing your things to head out, barely looking his way as you passed him.
The tables had turned, and now he was the one chasing your attention. And each time you walked past him, it was a reminder of the countless times he’d done the same to you.
Tony tried harder, desperate to reach you. He’d show up at your school events unannounced, hovering at the back of the room, hoping to catch you. When he did manage to see you, he’d smile, wave, but you’d turn away before he could approach.
One day, he waited for you in the kitchen after school, hoping you’d talk to him. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual.
You barely nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave before turning away, as if he were just another face in the tower.
The realization stung—he was a stranger to you now, a shadow in the very place he’d thought he’d always be the brightest.
You’d always had a habit of fussing over Tony before missions, even though he brushed it off with a laugh or a smirk every time. You’d run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug, muttering a soft “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” It was something he’d come to expect—a ritual, in a way. But this time, as he and the Avengers prepared to head out, you were nowhere near him.
He waited, lingering by the Quinjet, scanning the hallways for you. The other Avengers gave him a curious glance, noticing his rare display of hesitation.
But you didn’t come to him. You were busy talking to Steve, listening to Natasha’s quick pointers on handling herself if anything went wrong in the tower, and as you stood there, you didn’t even glance his way.
Tony tried to brush off the pang of disappointment that settled in his chest. It was strange, seeing you so distant, so unaffected as if he was just another face in the tower. He had known you’d started pulling away, but this—this was different. He’d started to miss you in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and the absence of your hug and your quiet words lingered with him as the Quinjet door closed, and they headed off to the mission.
Hours passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Normally, you’d distract yourself while they were away, maybe even work on a project in the workshop or catch up on schoolwork. But today, that feeling of unease was stronger than ever, gnawing at you with a persistence you couldn’t ignore.
You paced the hallways, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The quiet tower felt unbearably heavy, each minute stretching on endlessly. And then, finally, the faint roar of the Quinjet’s engines filled the air, signaling their return.
You hurried down to the landing bay, expecting to see Tony strutting out, cracking some half-baked joke about the mission, brushing off any bruises like they were nothing.
But as the jet doors opened, your heart plummeted.
The first figure to emerge was Steve, his face drawn with worry. And behind him, there was Tony—lying still on a stretcher, his armor dented, his face pale, and his shirt soaked through with blood.
“Dad!” you screamed, running over as the medics began wheeling him out. You reached for his hand, gripping it tightly as you matched the pace of the stretcher. “Dad, can you hear me?”
Hearing your voice, Tony’s eyes flickered open, and he gave you a faint, almost dazed smile, his lips twitching up as if this were all just another routine day. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
You felt tears welling up in your eyes, his usual grin so painfully out of place as blood seeped through his clothes. He looked like he was moments from passing out, yet here he was, trying to smile at you as if he weren’t literally dying.
Dr. Cho appeared at that moment, taking control as she and the med team rushed him toward the med bay. You clung to his hand, following until Dr. Cho gently but firmly urged you to let go so they could begin.
Your grip slipped reluctantly, your hand falling back to your side as they wheeled him away. You felt helpless, watching as they disappeared through the doors, the weight of everything settling heavily on your chest. Had he been injured because he’d been waiting for you to say goodbye? Was it your fault for not showing him you still cared?
You sank against the wall outside the med bay, waiting, your heart pounding as guilt and worry tangled together. You could barely breathe, the fear settling into your bones as the minutes stretched into hours.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho came out, a tired but gentle smile on her face.
“He’s stable,” she said, her voice reassuring. “The wound was deep, but we managed to stop the bleeding. He’ll need rest and shouldn’t move around much, but he’s going to be okay.”
Relief flooded through you, a weight lifting off your chest as you let out a shaky breath. You thanked her, your voice choked with emotion as you entered the med bay, your eyes immediately finding Tony’s sleeping form.
He looked peaceful, a rare stillness on his face as he rested. You pulled a chair close to the bed, sitting down and taking his hand in yours, your fingers brushing over the cuts and bruises along his knuckles. You stared at his hand, a lump forming in your throat as everything you’d been bottling up began to spill over.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible, as you traced the faint lines of scars on his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as the realization sank in, the guilt pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You hadn’t been there, hadn’t told him to be safe, and the thought that he’d gone into danger without knowing you cared made your heart ache.
From that moment, you didn’t leave his side, staying by his bed for days, watching over him, holding his hand, making sure he knew you were there. The other Avengers came by, offering words of comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave unless it was absolutely necessary.
Days passed, and one morning, as you sat by his bed, your head resting on your arms, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d fallen asleep, Tony’s hand still cradled in yours as you dozed off at his bedside.
When Tony stirred awake, blinking blearily at the room around him, he felt a warmth against his hand. Glancing over, he saw you, your head resting on the edge of the bed, your eyes closed, your grip on his hand firm even in sleep. A small, tired smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and gratitude.
Dr. Cho entered quietly, offering him a knowing smile as she did her routine check. “She’s barely left your side,” she whispered, nodding toward you. “You’re lucky to have her.”
Tony’s gaze softened, his smile lingering as he looked at you, memories of the past few weeks flashing through his mind. When Dr. Cho finished and quietly left, he shifted slightly, trying to move without disturbing you. But the small movement was enough to make you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you lifted your head, immediately reaching out to steady him.
“Hey, careful,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. “Don’t move too much. Dr. Cho said you need rest.”
Tony chuckled softly, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “Guess I’m not used to lying around doing nothing,” he replied, squeezing your hand gently
You frowned at him, though your expression softened with relief. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Water? Or maybe some food? Can’t get you alcohol, obviously…”
You rambled on, the questions pouring out in rapid succession, not giving him a chance to respond. “How are you feeling now? Do you want me to—”
“Whoa, slow down,” Tony interrupted with a soft laugh, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I’m fine, kid. Really. You don’t have to worry.”
You let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally pressing down on you. Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, until finally, both of you spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry.”
Tony looked at you, his brow furrowing with confusion. “Why are you sorry?” he asked gently. “I’m the one who’s messed up, not you.”
You shook your head, your gaze falling as you fiddled with the edge of the bed sheet. “I should’ve said goodbye, like I always do. I was upset, and I thought… maybe if I didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But I do care, and I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way.”
Tony’s hand tightened around yours, his expression softening as he watched you. “Hey, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “This is on me. I know I’ve let you down, more times than I can count. And I know I haven’t been the dad you deserve. But I’m here now, and I’m… I’m done screwing this up.”
He looked at you, his gaze steady, a rare sincerity in his eyes. “I know it’s going to take time to fix things, but I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m going to be there for you. I swear it.”
You blinked, tears welling up in your eyes as his words sank in, the honesty and determination in his voice breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself. You reached out, gripping his hand tightly, the weight of all the years of waiting and hoping finally easing.
“Just… show up, okay?” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek as you held his gaze. “That’s all I need.”
He nodded, a small, heartfelt smile on his face as he leaned back, squeezing your hand. “Then consider it done, kiddo.”
And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the medbay and the warmth of his hand in yours, you allowed yourself to believe him, feeling a glimmer of hope
Ok, so a week or two ago I watched season 7 episode 1 of twd for the first time. You can imagine how that went for me as someone that LOVED glenn to death (literally) like I was shaking and everything during the whole episode. ANYWAYS I started writing and planning multiple platonic Glenn and Maggie x reader fics because I love them and I needed to get myself back into writing so basically this post has no purpose other than to tell yall to look out for a new fic coming soon to my writing blog! (I can't tag it for some reason but you can find it at the top of my pinned post!
