#and we are running out of room for squirrels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cultofdixon · 5 months

Text

Double Trouble

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It was only supposed to be one baby, but life carries plenty of surprises • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Multiples Pregnancy Anxiety / Sleep Deprivation / Nausea & Vomiting / Injuries

Requested by: Anon

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’ll join you on the next one babe”

Daryl hesitated at the door waiting for any sign from her to have him either stay home with her or for her to change her mind and join him on his run. But the smile Y/N carried reassured him not to worry about leaving.

“Okay…if anythin’ just. Get Rick to radio me, yeah?” He asks as she brought herself over for a hug and to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I will. Be safe okay?” Y/N smiles letting Daryl sneak in another kiss as an ‘I will’ to her words before heading out.

The second the door closed with the archer on the other side of it, Y/N went from standing still to sprinting upstairs. She stumbled a bit and managed to run into the wall from not entering the bathroom door smoothly.

Which resulted in a frozen moment before finally going into the bathroom slowly and shutting the door behind her. Y/N hesitantly approached the counter reaching for the test she had taken prior to him leaving.

“Oh shit…”

As the day went by fast, Daryl couldn’t have been more happy to come home after a boring run. He didn’t get too far into the community for Rick to stop him.

“Hey, how’d the run go?”

“It was boring”

“I would assume so” Rick laughs, resting his hands on his hips. “You were only delivering meds to the Hilltop and then their seedlings to the Kingdom. Which reminds me how’s Hershel Jr? Get to hold him?”

“Rick. You’re askin’ a lot. Are you trying to get me to avoid somethin’ or are you struggling to get what you really wanna ask out of yea?”

“Uh. Y/N has been acting squirrel-y around here since you’ve left in the morning. I wanted to radio you to see if you knew anythin’ but like. She still did help with the projects we’ve got going around the community so I don’t know why she was all over the place”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know…” Daryl started his bike back up and rode the rest of the way to his and Y/N’s.

The sound of the garage door closing alerted Y/N as she quickly pulls herself away from the kitchen fixing her dress. It was new, well new to her but still very new and she didn’t know how to wear it or contain her excitement for something she needs Daryl to come through the door to see.

“Love, are you doing al—-“ Daryl stops in front of her, instantly noticing the beautiful floral dress on her before taking in the smell of dinner that was made. “You’ve been busy…” he brought himself close as his eyes trailed her person while his hands placed themselves firmly on her hips. “Did I miss something?”

“No?”

“You sure? I don’t deserve all of this” Daryl eventually brought his arms around her waist, instantly bringing her pressed against him. Y/N gave him a bit of an annoyed look given he was dirty from killing a few walkers and the obvious dirt picking up from his bike to land on him. “Sorry sunshine I should’ve cleaned up before I ruined your dress…”

“Well once you have the meal I prepared you…you’re gonna want to have dessert after and this dress isn’t going to matter” Y/N smirks watching his gaze glue to hers as that excited him. “But please. Do enjoy what I cooked for you first before we get to anything”

“I will” Daryl smiles warmly to her, kissing her lovingly before parting to see what was prepared which was venison. But he hesitated from taking a seat to pick up what was set neatly on the corner of the dining table.

The tension filled the room as it only brought Y/N’s anxiety to the surface making her pull at her fingers waiting for any kind of reaction from Daryl.

That’s when she froze to the sound of sniffles making her instinctively go to Daryl resting her hand on his back indicating for him to look at her. He turned toward her with tears in his eyes looking back down at the pregnancy test in his hands before back to her.

“Yeah?”

Y/N started to nod as the tears formed when his smile did, reassuring her that it was indeed a good thing. Daryl brought his arms around his woman holding her as they sobbed over the good news.

“We’re having a baby” Y/N laughs out a sob feeling Daryl tighten around her gently.

“We’re having a baby…” He whispers continuing to hold her as they remained like that for a long time.

Thanking the universe for opening this door after the Savior’s War…even if they weren’t prepared for the intensity of it all

First Trimester

Daryl sat on the tile floor gently rubbing circles on Y/N’s back as she had her head practically glued into the toilet. He would relax one second and tense up when she would vomit.

Eventually, Y/N stopped for a bit but had no energy to leave the coolness of the tile floor. She told him he doesn’t have to sit with her if she wasn’t expelling her stomach. But Daryl wasn’t going anywhere and told her to lay her head in his lap until she was ready to get up.

“Can we stay here all day?”

“If you’d like” Daryl chuckles, continuing to rub soothing circles on her back. “You ready to tell people?”

“Mhm…You can tell whoever you want”

“Really? You don’t have anybody you don’t want me telling and rather you do it?”

Y/N pondered it for a bit before flinching to the sound of a door shutting and such caused Daryl to flinch. “Did you call somebody?”

“No…No I didn’t” Daryl gently moved her off of his lap as she instantly went to being curled up on the floor while he went to investigate the noise.

But his anxieties instantly washed away when he saw Siddiq hesitantly roaming around his living room.

“You need something?”

“I was gonna knock but Rick said just to come in and I thought that was uh…weird. But anyway, he told me Y/N wasn’t feeling well and we found some nausea medication on the last run” Siddiq cautiously handed Daryl the bottle as he was still getting used to being around a lot of people since Carl brought him in. “Do you…uhm have any questions about it? Before you give them to her?”

Daryl read the label in hopes it would tell him the obvious, but it would also be stupid of him if the doctor in the community doesn’t know.

“Would it affect the baby?”

Siddiq seemed to connect the dots instantly to the she’s been vomiting for a few days description Rick gave him. “Your baby should be fine” he smiles warmly, happy for the good news his new friends have.

“You can’t tell anybody til we do”

“I figured” He laughs. “I will suggest having check ups. Monthly is ideal and we only have a fetal doppler which only detects the heartbeat…I heard that the hilltop has an actual machine if you ever want to schedule to be checked there”

“I appreciate it Siddiq…I’ll let Y/N know” Daryl shot him a smile before heading back upstairs as Siddiq let himself out.

Returning back upstairs to their bedroom, Daryl found Y/N climbing back into bed curling up in the warmth of the blankets now. He set the bottle on the table beside the bed before climbing in behind her and bringing her in his embrace.

“Mmm…who was it?”

“Siddiq. And he knows now…so whenever you’re ready you two can go get checked”

“You’ll come?”

“Ain’t ever leavin’ your side”

It’s been about three weeks before Daryl said anything to anyone because Y/N has been experiencing morning sickness to an extreme which was odd according to the book Siddiq found for them. Including his medical opinion but as long as she can still manage to have something to eat during the day he wasn’t too worried when he’d check on her.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, I can go to the Hilltop with you. I just can’t ride with you…” Y/N pouts at Daryl through her body mirror watching him approach her wrapping his arms around her. He planted a few kisses to her shoulder then her neck to get a smile out of her. “Are you going to tell Rick when we head out?”

“Yeah. Or might wait til Hilltop. Dunno yet” Daryl says with a confused look on his face as he brought his hands under her shirt feeling exactly what he’s feeling. “You showing already?” He questions for her to pull away and lift her shirt over her belly turning to the side. “Well would you look at that”

“Were you a big baby?”

“I wouldn’t know. Merle just called me a blob when I was a baby…least that’s what I remember our mom sayin’”

“Mmm…I think I was. Maybe that’s why I’m showing already” Y/N continued to look at her belly smiling when Daryl brought his hand to rest on her bump. “Okay you make it look like nothing”

“Shut up” He laughs kissing her temple. “It’s everythin’. I’ll get your pack and meet yea downstairs”

Y/N playfully pouts again when he pulls away but stood in the mirror a bit longer admiring the life she’s creating out of the love of both of them. Her smile remaining.

Once the two grouped up with the others by Alexandria’s gates, Michonne being the observant person she can be noticed Y/N not get on Daryl’s bike and into the car Siddiq was taking. She instantly turned to her partner asking if he might know.

“She probably got tired of the bike”

“Are you serious? Are we talking about the same Y/N that loves the night drives on the bike with Daryl?” Michonne gave him a questioning look as Rick shrugged. “Go ask why she’s not riding with him”

“You can! Why do I—-“

“I will.” Michonne made her way to Daryl and instantly questioned him.

Rick watches as Michonne approaches Daryl to ask him why his partner isn’t riding with him. He instantly shot up when Michonne started to show her worry in her face before smiling big when Daryl finally said it. He even gave Rick a look when he said the good news that led Michonne to hug her tightly.

Once they parted Rick made his way over. “What’s so good it made my wife cry?”

“Y/N’s pregnant”

“Oh my god! Ha! That explains why she was sick” Rick smiles patting Daryl on the back. “Congratulations!”

“You must be excited to become a dad” Michonne smiles watching him nod even if there was a sense of anxiety about that chapter. “It’s okay to be nervous”

“Yeah, plus it’s okay to mess up. You’re not alone on this journey either so.” Rick smiles more gripping Daryl’s shoulder again before parting. “Alright. Let’s get going and I’ll congratulate the mom to be when we get to the hilltop”

“Im going to ride with her and congratulate now. I’ll see you at the hilltop”

“You’re leaving me alone with Eugene?”

“Yes” Michonne smiles patting his chest as she goes into the first car leaving Rick to sigh and accept his fate.

The trip to Hilltop was smooth enough for Y/N not to get car sick but Daryl of course checked on her once she stepped out. She went to help Siddiq with the stock up of the medical trailer given she was going to be his apprentice. Might as well learn as much as you can before you’re tied up for a long time.

“Ah! Y/N!!” Maggie smiles running over the second she got out and immediately noticed her bump resulting in a scream of joy. “Boy do you two work fast! Ah I’m gonna be an aunt again!” She cheers hugging Y/N tightly quickly remembering as she pulled away. “Come on you’ll be taking it easy with me today”

“I was gonna be with Siddiq for most of the day”

“Then I’m tagging along. I’ve missed you”

“I’ve missed you too Mags” Y/N smiles as her smile started to falter when the tears came on suddenly. “I really did miss you”

Maggie couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped her as she brought Y/N back into her arms. Daryl instantly catching onto the tears and making sure she’s okay but Maggie shooed him.

“Just the hormones” Maggie reassures Daryl while she comforted Y/N.

After a busy day of helping Hilltop reinforce the walls, dig up new gardening spots, restocking the infirmary, and handling general stuff…

Y/N finally sat on the steps of the Barrington House with two bowls of the stew one of the Hilltop residents made for everybody waiting for Daryl to step through the gates. But while she waited she ended up eating both bowls and felt awful when Daryl arrived the second she finished the second one. He was definitely going to have to get used to the hormones because she started tearing up the second he walked over to her.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get us more” Daryl reassures watching her tear up more making it feel like an arrow to the chest looking at her. “Sunshine…”

“I should go get it. I’m the one that ate your food—-“ Before Y/N could even get up, she was gently pushed back down as Daryl took both bowls to get another serving. She pouted the entire time he was gone and didn’t light up until she took a bite remembering how good it was.

“Better?” Daryl smiles when she nods while happily eating. “Good” he kisses her temple before starting to eat for himself.

Little did they know that Tara and Maggie were watching the two from the door opened ajar.

“They are going to have a cute ass baby” Tara comments with Maggie nodding.

“Over-protective parents too”

“Always a bonus”

The two share a short laugh before closing the door and letting them be.

Second Trimester

“I feel huge” Y/N huffs, waiting for Siddiq to finish measuring her 18 week belly for her to write it down. She’s been keeping track of that amongst other things.

“Well you did say you were possibly a big baby? I can really go off that because from the scan we did back at the Hilltop it didn’t show much—-“

“It showed my everything” Y/N stated only for Siddiq to whisper an apology even if she was just kidding and her saddened expression only brought out more apologies out of the man. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Not at all…we should only worry if there is something to worry about. Like how you’re trying to do every chore that pops up when you’re pregnant like this”

“I would like to be useful Siddiq! And since Daryl is helping the Kingdom at the moment, I can do stuff without his scowl around” Y/N states only for Siddiq to take a mental note to have Daryl never leave again if his wife is overdoing herself.

“Just. Take them at your own pace. Don’t overdo it like I said” Siddiq handed back her journal for the belly measurement and the blood pressure he took. “You’ll be back when you reach 20 weeks okay?”

“I know I know”

The “taking it easy with the chores” obviously didn’t stick with Y/N.

Y/N handled inventory for the pantry (the written part), helped Aaron with laundry for both of their households, took on a midday watch shift, watered the gardens, and currently working on taking care of the weeds of the garden is when she started to feel it. But honest, during the watch she felt the exhaustion hit her already and went against her.

“Y/N? You don’t look too good” Rosita frowns approaching her from her side of the gardens as she was helping her friend with the weeds. She noticed the loss of color in Y/N’s face when she brought herself to stand only to falter with her balance. “Amor, you should stop. Rest for the remainder of the day”

“No I have…I have to get this…” Y/N immediately dropped what she was holding and took a slow fall to the ground. She shifted from landing on her side to hold her belly.

Rosita instantly knelt beside her quickly turning to whoever closest to them, in this case Gabriel, and whistling him down.

“Go get Siddiq! And somebody get me Rick” Rosita demanded hearing Gabriel spit out an ‘ok’ while he ran to the infirmary to get Siddiq while an Alexandrian nearby went to get Rick to radio the obvious.

It took about 3 hours to get Daryl to get on his way back home. Not that he picked something over Y/N, never. He was hunting with Carol and the range he was at was just outside the suitable one for Kingdom to reach Alexandria. It took Ezekiel to come out in a car to pick up the two and head immediately to Alexandria.

“Hey—-“ Daryl didn’t mean to throw the door open to the infirmary, watching his wife flinch to the sound. “Sorry, is she okay? Is—-“

“Yeah. Mom and baby are okay…” Siddiq took the blood pressure cuff off of Y/N’s arm while she currently picked at the IV in her hand. “She has to stay until the IV finishes because she was dehydrated, then she’ll be homebound for a bit. Just until her pressure goes down”

“Great…” Y/N frowns continuing to mess with the IV as Daryl quickly stopped her when he sat on the edge of the bed taking her hand.

“You should be taking it easy” Daryl kept his annoyance to himself but the worry always poked through. “I told yea to”

“I didn’t want to be useless…besides I’m not even that far along. I’m not supposed to be this exhausted”

“Your body is working extra hard because it’s growing a whole other human being. It wont benefit anybody if you get hurt doing a job someone else can handle” Siddiq made his last comment before handing Y/N the journal from before that had her current blood pressure. “I’ll come back to take the IV out. Then you can take her back home and I’ll visit in a week to see if her blood pressure went down” he shot the two a smile as Daryl gave his thanks while holding Y/N’s hand feeling her squeeze it harshly when he stepped away.

“What? What’s wrong? Should I—-“

“No, no…it’s weird” Y/N took the hand she was holding to rest it on a certain spot on her belly. Daryl’s confusion only grew until he felt it.

“Oh my god…”

“I know right?” Y/N laughs softly feeling Daryl’s hand continue to rub circles on her belly in hopes for more movement but nothing after the first.

During the bedrest, Carol decided to stay with Y/N during that time which led Ezekiel to do so as well. He helped around the community with Daryl while Carol kept an eye on Y/N. He didn’t ask her to but she insisted, she needed a break from all the kingdom stuff and this was the perfect excuse.

“Tell me why this is your current craving?”

“Pickles? It’s a common craving—-“

“No, pickles with hot sauce”

“Because…I just like it?” Y/N stated with confusion in her voice as she had her craving on a plate rested on her bump. “Are you going to try it with me or question all my decisions like you’ve had the past few days?”

“No…To both of those, I’m just. Trying to come to the decision of something I’ve been asked repeatedly and I don’t know if I even want it” Carol frowns turning to Y/N who she currently laid beside in her bed noticing the curious look, which was obvious given who wouldn’t be after what she said. “Ezekiel asked me to marry him” she stated watching the excitement grow on her friend’s face. “But—-Before you shower me with this is good news shit, I don’t…I don’t think I want it”

“You know he’s not Ed right?” Y/N felt a sting of regret for bringing up past trauma as if it was nothing and started becoming apologetic even if Carol needed to hear exactly that.

“I do…but—-“

“There’s no real but…Ezekiel is a good guy, you two are even raising a kid. You don’t have to decide now and I know Ezekiel would be patient” Y/N set her plate on the end table before forcing herself to sit up entirely. “Listen. I doubt Ezekiel would be mad if you said no. Marriage can be weird for some people and as long as you love each other and support each other. I don’t think he’d care in the long run if you have a ring or not”

“Your kid is lucky to have you as a mom, and especially Daryl as a dad”

“You think he’s nervous?”

“Who wouldn’t be when becoming a new parent?”

“Me, because I have Daryl…and he’s kind of a natural with kids. I’m not worried about having his because he’ll jump right into it.”

Daryl is going to be a great dad

As Daryl started to make his way home after a night watch, a night watch Y/N forced him to do with “if I can’t help around, you’ll help for me” when he’d much rather be laying with her. He heard the son of a bitch prisoner scoff from his cell.

“Yo Dixon. Word traveled with news about you having a baby with the missus”

“What’s it to yea, Negan” Daryl frowns stepping close to the vent as Negan made his way over.

“You think you’re gonna be a good father? With how messed up you are?” Negan grabbed onto the small bars. “I’ve seen the scars, man. What makes yea think you aren’t going to be exactly like the man that gave you those?”

Daryl didn’t hesitate to swing his foot between the bars and nail Negan right in the nose almost breaking it. He falls back groaning in pain as part of him wanted to scream but no one would care. The archer’s actions didn’t mean it didn’t bother him.

The door creaked open in hopes Daryl wouldn’t wake Y/N but she happened to be wide awake reading. She instantly tossed the book aside smiling at her husband but when he fully entered the room something was off which led her smile to fade. She didn’t say anything immediately as Daryl brought himself into the bed low enough to where his head is by her belly. He brought his arm around her, his fingers gently tracing shapes on her belly.

“Baby?” Y/N frowns running her fingers through his hair feeling him shift to bring his attention onto her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…’m ok” Daryl lied of course and that wasn’t going to get far with Y/N as her expression only softened and grew more with worry. “You think I’ll mess up our kid?”

“Daryl, let me be completely honest with you. Our kid is going to be extremely lucky to have you as their dad” Y/N stated and wouldn’t take any ‘buts’ from him. “Why would you think you will mess up our kid?”

“Just…dunno” Daryl frowns laying his head back on the bed as he started to tap his fingers on her bump which resulted in a kick or two sometimes. Y/N rested her other hand on a different spot from where his is and felt movement. “I was walking past Negan’s cell and he—-“

Y/N instantly started to move which alarmed Daryl to get up helping her up. She gave her thanks before immediately moving past him.

“Love—-“

“Stupid son of a bitch” Y/N groans from the obvious weight shift when getting out of the bed and walking down the stairs.

“Me?!”

“No! NEGAN” She shouted out her anger making Daryl fear for a bit but then he remembered.

“Love, you have to stay in bed. You need to relax”

“Fuck that. The stupid son of a bitch who kidnapped my husband. Killed my best friend. That fucking pig isn’t going to fuck with my life anymore” Y/N searched around the living room. “Where the fuck is my gun?!”

“I ain’t giving you a gun if you’re going to kill him”

“Then my knife! I won’t kill him—-just make him bleed a bit”

“Ain’t doing that either when you can’t even have a knife holster on” Daryl stated thinking her coming up empty meaning she’d stop and go back to bed. But instead she went out the front door, without shoes and all. “Shit. Y/N it’s late—-“

“Won’t stop me” Y/N stormed, power walked? waddled her way to the cell but on the way found something in the streets. “Hand me that”

Daryl was confused at what she was looking at as he shined his flashlight to the ground finding only a fallen tree branch. “The fucking tree branch?”

“Yes, if you don’t give it to me—-You’ll sleep on the couch”

He wasn’t going to fight those actions and picked it up for her, only for her to snatch it making her way to the cell.

“Can you tell me exactly how this happened again?” Siddiq questioned how Negan manage to have broken his nose.

“Long story” Negan frowns letting the doctor work but the two instantly shifted their attention to the sound of the main door opening before revealing Y/N with a tree branch in hand with Daryl following behind him. “Yo, you’re not allowed down here”

“Shut the fuck up!” Y/N shouted coming into the cell. “Siddiq move” she said softly at first but when Siddiq just sat there with his kit in hand, her rage only grew. “MOVE OR ILL HIT YOU TOO” she snapped resulting in the doctor to quickly move out of her way and to Daryl’s side.

Negan stared at her expecting nothing but immediately started backing into the wall on his cot when she started swinging. The branch hurt a LOT more than expected and she wasn’t letting up.

“STOP—-“

“NO”

“PLEASE—-“

“SHUT UP”

“I DID NOTHING TO Y—-“

“YOU DID EVERYTHING. YOU KILLED GLENN. YOU KILLED ABRAHAM. SASHA. AND YOU KIDNAPPED MY HUSBAND.” Y/N snapped smacking him a couple times. “YOU FUCKING HURT HIM. TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME AND HIS FAMILY. NOW YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT HIM ALL OVER AGAIN IN MY FUCKING COMMUNITY?!”

As Y/N continued to practically beat Negan with the tree branch as neither Daryl or Siddiq went to intervene.

“She knows she’s going to be bedridden for a few weeks after this right?”

“Probably not. But as long as she gets her point across I don’t think she’d care”

“I’ve only ever heard what Negan did…and I’m sorry” Siddiq frowns. “I could only imagine”

“If I didn’t have her at the end of it, I wouldn’t be here”

Y/N started to become exhausted and Negan was dumbfounded, bruised, and in tears at this point. She dropped the tree branch feeling tears come on.

“He will be a great dad. This child is lucky. If I hear you say another thing against that? I will kill you” Y/N pulled away wiping away her tears letting Daryl engulf her in his embrace.

Siddiq stared at Negan’s state before closing the cell locking it up.

“You’re not gonna—-“

“Nah the bruises and minor cuts will heal. Let’s get out of here”

Third Trimester

“You want me to stop?”

“No”

“Alright, let me get comfortable too then” Daryl rested his cheek on top of Y/N’s head as he was currently holding her belly up to relieve some of the weight. “You’re lucky I’m strong”

“You gave me a big baby” Y/N winced slightly to the movement. “That kicks in multiple directions”

“I don’t think they can do the splits in there” Daryl jokes listening to her groan as a result. “We can lay down yknow”

“No, I’ve been on bedrest too many times I’m taking advantage of this” She shifted a bit, feeling Daryl’s arms readjust slightly while he also started to kiss the top of her head and temple. “You had to get everything ready without me…and I feel bad”

“You helped in your own way without over exerting yourself. All you had to do was keep our baby safe, alright? And yea did that” Daryl didn’t get an immediate reply, all he got was a slow removal of his arms. “Sunshine?”

“How many weeks am I again?”

“Mmm…finishing 36, why?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortable trying to lose past her belly but couldn’t, but her struggle led Daryl to look for her and there was a puddle.

“Your water broke…”

��Oh god, oh—-Fuck, Daryl isn’t it too early?!!”

“No—-Fuck. Okay, just take a seat sunshine. I gotta get Siddiq” Daryl stated and he practically sprinted out of the house so she wouldn’t be alone for long.

Even if the short time alone still led to the downward spiral of her thoughts.

It’s too early

Complications can happen

What if she dies?

What if they both do

Y/N was feeling all of it and instead of crying, she only winced to the contractions and times them until Daryl came back a bit out of breath running to the infirmary and back. Keeping to his word about returning immediately.

“He’s getting his things. Are you sure about doing this here?” They’ve discussed home birth compared to…infirmary birth? It’s weird not having hospitals anymore. But that’s beside the point. It didn’t matter to them, but also took into account of when and where she’d go into labor.

“Love?” Daryl brought himself in front of her kneeling to catch her downward gaze, resting a hand on her belly. “What are you feeling? We are about to meet our girl” Another thing Daryl is fixated on, having a girl.

“What if something bad happens…” Y/N tried not to cry when saying such, but the crack in her voice hurt him. “It’s too early”

“It’s not though, Siddiq said anything past 24 is good survival for our babe. You’re finishing 36…beyond that”

“It’s going to hurt…a lot. I won’t bounce back to it right away…” Y/N frowns feeling the tears fall as she squeezed her eyes tight when another contraction waved through. “Shit…”

“Sunshine, look at me” Daryl rose to his feet taking her hands in his for her to squeeze them until the contraction stopped. Once it did she brought her eyes onto his. “Everythin’ is gonna go smoothly. Siddiq knows what he’s doing, we’re prepared for the most part…and I’m right here. I ain’t going anywhere”

Y/N only started to sob even more letting Daryl gently hold her as the tears were of joy for this time at a loss for words.

“Cmon, let’s get yea ready”

By the time Siddiq finally arrived, word got around…even with how late in the night it was. Rick sat on the couch of the Dixon resident while Michonne made coffee in their kitchen. Judith slept in the Grimes residence next door, which explains the baby monitor attached to Michonne’s hip. Rosita entered the house with an exhausted Eugene following suit.

“Is word out to the other communities?”

“Carol is on her way, Maggie would’ve liked to be here but…y’know” Rick frowns before brushing the sadness off. “Anyway! Aaron will be here with Gracie in a sec. Maybe I should grab Judith just to be safe”

“I will once we get an update, okay?” Michonne reassures bringing the pot to the coffee table setting a hot pad down before the pot.

As Siddiq descended down the stairs to receive more towels from the hall closet and noticed the amount of people in the house. Everyone instantly stared at him.

“Baby?”

“Not yet. She’s at nine centimeters and more uncomfortable than I thought she would be. Something…doesn’t exactly add up” Siddiq trailed and the worry in his toned caused all of them to get in his business. “But but. Daryl is trying to expedite things even if Y/N wants to scream”

“If the pain is that bad, the woman is allowed to scream” Rosita stated getting a tired nod of agreement from Eugene.

“She’s trying not to” Siddiq grabbed the last towel from the closet and went to make his return upstairs.

While such was happening, Daryl kept trying to help Y/N walk around to get that one centimeter there but she kept pushing his hands away every time he tried.

“I wanna lay down…”

“Then let me help yea into—-“

“No I need this stupid shit over with!” Y/N groans leaning against the wall for a moment, giving Daryl the opportunity to be close so she could shift to leaning onto him and not the uncomfortable wall. “Fuck…something feels weird…weirder than usual” She whined, letting Daryl help her back onto the bed as he was going to shout for the doc but he was already coming in when their concerns were rising.

“Siddiq something—-“

“is wrong, something has to be wrong” Y/N kept biting the inside of her cheek to avoid her from screaming at this night hour…

But the rattle of her scream startled everyone downstairs. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she was there. It was time.

“On the next contraction you’re going to want to push, okay?” Siddiq stated as he finished putting on gloves and lifting the blanket to help guide the baby out while Y/N’s anxiety started to eat at her.

“I-…O-Okay” Y/N sobbed, feeling Daryl bring his arm around her shoulders while his free hand took hers. “Daryl…”

“I’m right here. I’ve gotcha sunshine” Daryl kissed her temple feeling her squeeze his hand when she felt a contraction coming on.

Robin Elizabeth Dixon

7lb 2oz

Both parents were in tears until the anxiety returned in Daryl this time around when Y/N’s expression went from joy to full of pain.

“Siddiq—-Something really is wrong” She felt the discomfort return as she tried to sit up and look herself but Siddiq advised her not to when he brought himself back with another towel thinking of complications.

Then Siddiq’s expression went from confusion to a bit of shock as it only kicked Daryl’s anxiety up.

“Siddiq!” He shouted to get him to snap out of it as Siddiq breathed out a laugh.

“You’re going to have to push again” He stated grabbing another set of gloves and another towel. “This explains a lot that happened during your pregnancy”

“Siddiq” Y/N groans in annoyance after handing Daryl their daughter to grip onto the sheets feeling another contraction. “Fucking say it”

“You’re having multiples. Explains the extra weight. The morning sickness happening more than once or twice a day—-Regardless. You’re crowning”

“Oh my god” The shock was getting to Daryl and Y/N’s clearly directed annoyance snapped him back.

“You drop her, I will end you”

Y/N couldn’t believe this was her first, and most likely last pregnancy. Who woulda thought she would be having a second baby? At least it’s with the man she loves, and with the support from the village they have.

Shepherd Glenn Dixon

7lbs 6oz

“We…are going to need a second crib” Y/N laughed holding their son who instantly calmed the second he laid in his mother’s arms. “Holy shit Daryl…we have two babies”

“Yeah, that we do” Daryl laughs smiling at the little girl in his arms, seated on the edge of the bed looking over at his wife and son. “They turned out perfect…you did good mama”

“Well…that’s cuz their daddy kept me safe” Y/N instantly turned to the sound of their daughter yawning watching Daryl’s face light up at everything both babies did. “You are definitely going to be a helicopter parent”

“Shut up Siddiq and I both saw what yea did to Negan, these two are your cubs. You’re gonna go full mama bear on anybody that messes with them”

“Damn right” Y/N smirks, leaning forward and kissing Daryl lovingly before gently caressing her little girl’s cheek. “So…who’s gonna tell the village downstairs?”

It wasn’t until Siddiq came back to check on Y/N and the babes when they came up with a plan.

A very quiet descend down the stairs and everyone noticed Siddiq coming down with their baby girl in his arms.

“Oh my god I knew it! I knew they would have a girl” Rosita smacked Eugene on her way up from the couch to go admire the little one with Michonne and Carol.

“She has his eyes” Carol smiles gently caressing the top of her head.

“And her hair. Oh my god why are you showing her to us and not Daryl?” Michonne comments and before she knew it, she couldn’t hold in the excitement that the rest had when Daryl descended down the stairs.

“Yeah she’s pretty great. But so is he” Daryl smiles bringing himself to stand with Siddiq so everyone could admire the twins.

“Congrats man” Aaron smiles patting his back gently. “Now you’ve got double the trouble”

“I know for sure that those kids ain’t gonna get messed with, with him and Y/N as their parents” Rick comments with a smile watching the boy yawn.

“This explains a lot of Y/N’s pregnancy, and boy did she bring perfect babes into the world” Carol makes the last comment that they all agreed with.

Then eventually as the day continues and those who were in the house as guests have left…leaving Daryl and Y/N laying in their bed with their twins nuzzled up with each other protected by their parents and pillows. The two admiring the lives they’ve created…

And to the start of this new chapter

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

497 notes · View notes

unlosts · 16 days

Note

Hi! I love your work! I saw that you had requests open, so could I request something with Hotch and the reader having to share a room for a case? I'm a sucker for awkward moments and pining so could this be like pre-relationship? And maybe the reader has to ask for a shirt or sweatpants because their own pajamas aren't very appropriate.

Thank you! ❤️ (feel free to ignore it if you don't want to write it)

Thank you for the request!

Word count: Just slightly over 2k.

A/N: MDNI! not super anything but I would feel better lol. Also the ending is me chickening out, but I don't rule out a part 2 either.

“Overbooked?” You ask the concierge in disbelief.

“I’m afraid so, it means that, unfortunately the hot-” He starts with an apologetic twist of his mouth, but you put a hand up to cut him off, already feeling a migraine beginning to form.

“I know what it means” You say exasperated. In the short run from the car to the hotel the storm had soaked your clothes making them stick to you uncomfortably, the heat of the lobby doing absolutely nothing to fight back the chill seeping into your bones.

Your soaking wet duffel bag hangs heavy on your shoulder forming a small ring of water on the red carpet. The people in line behind you huffing in impatience not helping matters at all.

A drop of water running from the back of your neck through your spine made you shiver uncomfortably.

The combined feeling of discomfort and exhaustion is making your patience run thin, and the realization that you had no place to sleep tonight was about to bring you to tears in front of the obnoxious family of four right behind you.

“Don’t you guys have like another hotel or something nearby?” You ask, already knowing the answer by the look of pity the concierge shots you.

“ma’am I’m sorry but -”

Before you can cut him off once more you feel a warm palm softly touch your arm, and Hotch appears right by you. Your shoulders drop in relief knowing he’ll fix it. The thought feels silly, It’s not as if Hotch can build you another room but for some reason you’re sure that he’ll find a work around.

“Is there an issue here?” He asks, his stature and still pristine, and somehow dry, suit more imposing than the drenched racoon look you ended up with.

“As I was telling her there was a mix up with the reservations and, unfortunately, we don’t have an available room for her” The concierge - Paul - says probably feeling just as relieved as you are to be talking to Hotch.

“Not here” Paul keeps going before Hotch can ask “nor in any of our other nearby branches. It’s the National Taxidermists Association Convention” He adds with an awkward smile.

“Did you hear that? I may not have a room but the dead and stuffed deer certainly does” You add unhelpfully.

“I understand” Hotch says before turning back to you and softly guiding you towards the side “It’s alright, we’ll just rearrange the rooms”

“It’s eleven PM, besides Pen said everyone got their own room tonight so it’s not like anyone will have the space” You say petulantly before looking back at him, already apologetic for snapping.

“I'm sorry, my duffle got ruined because I bought this shitty one instead of my usual so everything's probably soaked, I feel like this shirt is painted on and I'm pretty sure one of the creepy taxidermists was checking me out so I'm honestly not having the greatest night.”

You were all there for a negotiation seminar, which in hindsight made the fact that a dead squirrel got a room before you more humiliating.

Hotch only looks at you patiently “it's alright” he repeated, briefly touching your shoulder “We can just share my room”

Suddenly self conscious, the last thing you wanted was to put him out when all he probably wanted to do was talk to Jack and pass out, alone, in his own room. But he must have read it on your face because before you could make up an excuse he picks up your go bag and adds “It would make me feel better knowing you're near by and not in some motel, especially tonight.”

As if to back him up, thunder suddenly struck, loud and impossible to ignore.

“Okay,” you agree, going for the elevator “but you're not taking the couch”

“Am I that transparent?” He asks as you both wait for the doors to open, along with some of the other guests and their suspiciously big suitcases. You try really hard not think of what's in them.

“Sorry, it's the whole Connecticut WASPy manners thing, you’d probably rather get a creek on your neck sleeping on the floor just because it's more polite” You say with a shrug of your shoulder.

Before he could reply the doors opening, everyone flooding in making you press your back against Hotch, his arm went to your waist to keep you steady after a man not much older than you almost rolled his suitcase over your feet.

The heat of him behind you and his hand on your front made your stomach clench, it took all of your willpower not to lean back, the thought of him pressing up against you makes your eyes close briefly, his chest almost touching your back with every breath.

It feels like hours pass before you can step into the hallway keenly aware of Hotch just a step behind you.

Stepping into the room the first thing you notice is the queen sized bed, the plush hotel comforter drawing you in. You discard your shoes somewhere by the closet, uncaring of where they land.

“You can take the first shower” Hotch says, entering leaving both of your bags by the door “better warm up before you catch a cold” The thought feels entirely caring and entirely Hotch but the suggestion brings a more pressing issue to the front of your mind.

“um” you say, widening your eyes at the realization that you have nothing to wear “everything I have is soaked, like fresh out the washer before the dryer kind of soaked, you don't happen to have a spare set of pj's in there do you?”

He doesn't reply, just goes over to his bag and hands you a small pile of clothing “you go ahead, I'll go down with your clothes and see if laundry service is still open, wouldn't want you showing up tomorrow in a hotel bathrobe” he says with a smile and before you can protest he's off with your duffle bag. Leaving you alone with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

Once inside the bathroom you go through the clothing, the first thing you pick up from the pile is a threadbare dark blue GWU sweatshirt, soft in a way only a well loved item can be, and you can't help but take the collar up to your nose and taking in the fresh laundry smell and the remnants of his cologne still lingering in the fabric.

By the time you come out, swimming in his sweatshirt and a pair of too long sweatpants, toweling your hair, Hotch is back sans your bag, laying back in bed on the side closest to the door. Surfing through static after static channel on the TV, his head pillowed on the back of his arm.

“There goes movie night, I guess” you joke walking over to the bed “which side of the bed do you want”

Without getting up he says “this one’s fine”

At that you snort “that's such a guy thing”

“Sorry?”

“The whole sleeping next to the door in case someone comes in”

“You say that now but by the time a guy in a deer mask comes through the door you'll be glad I picked it”

“well how chivalrous of you” You smile at him leaning on the bathroom door.

He smiles back lopsided and a little boyish, his dimples peeking through “It’s those pesky WASP manners rearing their head.”

Hotch looks back at you for a moment from his side of the bed “I hope the shirt is comfortable”

“It’s great, thanks”

He clears his throat “It suits you”

Warmth spreads from the tips of your fingers all the way up your chest where a pleasant weight settles.

You sit criss crossed next him to change the channel to something watchable before your mouth wins over your brain and you say something stupid. As you reach over him, fishing for the remote on the nightstand you miscalculate and your hand slips on the bed sheets, toppling you over on top of him, leaving you nose to nose. Close enough to count his eyelashes.

You quickly sit back up but upon your haste you both move up at the same time, falling back into him as your hands find purchase in his chest. You feel the rise and fall of every breath he takes, the thrum of his heart matching yours. Your eyes lock again as his hands circle your waist to keep from falling from the bed and into the floor.

“Shit” You whisper “I’m so sorry Hotch” But it’s hard to be when you’re encased in his arms, feeling the muscle of his chest underneath your fingertips as his big, calloused hands burn a mark on your back.

“It’s alright” He says in a tone matching your own.

With his help you sit back up and he hands you the remote you were looking for. Tucking an errand strand of hair behind your ear you put on a random channel.

A black and white movie plays on in the background as you look at him, the faint glow from the TV casting moving shadows across his face, suddenly highlighting his strong brow or straight nose.

Your breathing matches his, suddenly the low light of the bedside lamp reminds you of candlelight, a gossamer filter cast over you.

As you’re about to speak, not really knowing what you were actually going to say he breaks the silence first by standing up and heading to the bathroom to shower.

It feels impossible to know Hotch, what he’s thinking or feeling, you want to unspool his thoughts, display them out like a film reel for your viewing pleasure. Know him as intimately as you sometimes feel he knows you.

You’re settled back in bed, still lost in thought, by the time the water cuts off he comes out in plaid blue pants and a white t-shirt smelling like soap fresh laundry. His hair still damp and shirt collar askew like he dressed in a hurry.

Hesitating for a few seconds before peeling back the covers and getting in, his body heat right next to you, a contrast against your cold skill, the cold never having left you. Immediately making you shiver despite the thicker sweatshirt.

Hotch clears his throat again, more out of embarrassment from what he’s about to do, and it’s odd to see him like this. You’re used to seeing him be sure of himself, unflinching in the face of murderers, government officials and incensed police captains alike.

It’s an alien feeling seeing him blush, or hesitate before speaking, it only serves to deepen your fondness for him, it makes you want to lean in and press a kiss against his heated cheek.

He opens his arm in a silent invitation, you curl yourself sideways against him, your cold nose pressing against his neck as his warm hands trail up and down your back in what began an attempt to warm you back up. The lazy movement up and down meant to lull you to sleep, is instead sending shivers down your spine.

“Better?” Hotch asks.

“Much, thank you” You reply, resting your ear against his chest.

You don’t say anything else but let your hand trail up his stomach, feel the muscles softly clench underneath your hand before letting it rest there and look up to see his eyes closed and his lips parted. As if he could feel your gaze on him he opens his eyes still panting.

Hotch looks at you with a questioning gaze, the certainty in yours seeming like the only answer he needs.

His hand is a gentle weight on the back of your neck draws you in until your nose to nose, lips a breath away from touching. His thumb caresses your cheekbone back and forth, clouding your senses until you have tunnel vision, the room fades away and all you can see is him. You nose trails his for a moment as your forehead presses together, your hand coming up to touch his jaw.

“We shouldn’t ” He says, breath fanning against your lips while his eyes close briefly.

“No, we should not” You reply, but neither make a move to part.

“What should we do then?”

“You should tell me goodnight”

“Goodnight, then” He says and his deep voice reverberates under your hand still perched on his chest. You lean down and leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth as his breath stutters.

Before you can pull off of him his hand draws you back in finally kissing you. Time stops existing right then, the kiss is hungry but unhurried, Hotch is patient and tender as he rolls you over resting your head against his forearm.

Your breathing's labored as you part “See now we really should go to sleep” You say breathlessly, chest heaving up and down.

“We absolutely should,” He says teasingly.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine

323 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 4 months

Text

Soulmate🖤

Summary: You always wanted a deep connection with someone but never found it, that is until the apocalypse happens and a redneck archer saves you and things grow

•Masterlist•

I always envied the people around me finding their soulmates, how happy they seemed but I always tried to stay positive praying that someday that would be me, smiling so bright at the person across from me, but when the apocalypse hit I felt that hope dwindle all my friends and family gone, just me wondering the woods outside of Atlanta

I’ve been walking for days running low on food and water, walking until my legs give out when I come out of the trees to an opening of a serene blue quarry, I found a path down to the water and filled my canteen when I here a snap behind me, in fear of it be a walker I jumped and turned my knife tight in my grip but what came out of the path my my heart jump, a tanned man a little scruffy with a cross bow pointing straight at me

“How’d ya find the camp?” His voice grumbles and it’s like his voice shot right through my heart

“I didn’t, I just came from the woods and found this quarry and I just needed water” he seemed hesitant but he lowered his crossbow, I could tell he had a rough exterior but for some reason that didn’t bother me, there was something about him that drew me in

“I’m y/n”

“Daryl”

He showed me the camp and the group let me stay, over the next week he slowly warmed up to me, according to Lori he doesn’t act nice to anyone here other than me, he just came out of the woods from hunting when I met him at the tree line having been worried about him

“Daryl! How did it go?”

“Fine, got some squirrels, here” he said handing me a pink tulip

“For me? Thank you Daryl it’s beautiful” I saw him look away but not before I noticed the blush on his face

When the camp fell he came back just in time to save me holding me tight like this was the last chance, that night he had me sleep in him tent as he guarded it just incase, when we left for the cdc the next day he had me stay with him, when Jenner was showing us around Daryl pushed us into a room claiming it before others, i felt so special anytime he treated me like I was precious cargo

“Do you think we can make a home here?”

“Don’t know, just want ya safe”

“Can I ask you something?” He grunted with a nod

“What are we, I mean from the moment I met you I’ve felt so connected to you and I think you feel the same but I don’t want to push you”

“All I know sunshine is that yer mine and I ain’t gonna let nothin happen to ya”

302 notes · View notes

theoriginalkaminari · 4 months

Text

Attention span of a squirrel

Shoto Todoroki with an S/O who is very silly

Also seriously pls do not repost or reblog

Warnings: swearing sorta? Uh reader is GN and stuff.

Also the reason I call this 'Attention span of a squirrel' is bc squirrels have the attention span of uhhhhhh

Shoto was hanging from a rope, ankle first and upside down. The rope made him spin around the room very slowly as he felt the blood go to his head.

To make things worse, Shoto was dangling over a pit. It was foggy down there, so he wasn't able to see the bottom.

You both were chosen to go against Aizawa for this project, to see how well you did in a real villain situation.

So far?

Not so great.

Shoto was beginning to feel lightheaded, so he called out to you to try and bring your attention back to the situation.

"L/N." He calls, making you jolt out of your distracted state and back at him. "Hm?" You look up at him. "Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot." You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

"Okay...so..." You tap your chin in thought as you stare at the rope wrapped around Shoto's ankle. "If I were me...which I am...then how would I get Shoto out of here?" You jut out your bottom lip slightly, narrowing your eyes as if it would make you think harder.

"I don't mean to rush you," Shoto begins in his usual monotone voice. "But Mr. Aizawa could be approaching." He says, spinning slowly as the rope clings to his ankle.

You don't seem to hear this, as you're staring down at the pit. "Aha! I've got the situation!" You grin confidently, stumbling slightly as you take off your right shoe. Shoto raises an eyebrow, confused to what you were doing.

Then you suddenly throw your shoe into the pit. "One..." And you begin counting. "Two...three....four.....five..." You continue. Shoto feels confused as he stares at you. What the hell were you doing?

"L/N. What are you doing?" He finally asks, eyes still trained on your every move.

After you count to ten, you beam proudly, like you made a shocking discovery. At least, you thought you did.

"Well my icy friend," You begin as you point down into the pit. "We have discovered a bottomless pi-" You were interrupted by a soft 'thud' of your shoe finally hitting the bottom of the pit.

"Oh. Nevermind. Not bottomless, just ten seconds deep."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Shoto asks, tilting his head as best he can. You just turn back and grin at him.

"Well, if I cut you down from there, at least I know how long you'll be falling for!" You beam, like you've solved all world problems.

"Okay, now hold still." You try to reach for the rope, but stumble and almost fall into the pit. "Whoa!" You yelp lightly as the dirt crumbles beneath your feet. Luckily you got out of the way in time.

"Okay! New plan." You clap your hands together. Then, to Shoto's dismay, you begin to pace around the pit. After a while, you grin. Its not an innocent grin, but a mischievous one. Almost Bakugo like.

You suddenly run backwards. Shoto sighs in disappointment, thinking you've given up on him. "How do I-" He stops himself when he looks back at you, now charging at him. "L/N! What are you-"

You grin as you jump off the ledge of the pit, jumping up to grab him. You use a pocket knife to cut the rope in the process so you both don't get stuck.

You and Shoto tumble onto the otherside, landing into a pile of eachother.

Sort of a 69 position.

Quickly, you both pull away and stand up.

Shoto feels embarrassed, looking away from you and not knowing what to say.

That is, until you clear your throat. "So...here." You hand him a small amethyst rock. Maybe you collected it a while ago, or you found it somewhere. Eitherway, you don't really remember.

Shoto tilts his head, looking at the amethyst in your palm, then back at your face. "Whats this?" He asks.

You smile softly, finding his confusion amusing. "A gift! See? Its pretty, like you." You beam. Shoto swears he sees light emitting from you as you smile at him. Shoto gives a small smile in return, and takes the amethyst. "Thank you, L/N." He says, his voice soft.

You laugh softly and place your hands on your hips. "And since I gave you a gift, we're friends now. Is that okay?" You say, even though Shoto doesn't have a choice in the matter.

Shoto puts the amethyst in his pocket. "Okay."

You grin and give him a small thumbs up. "Great! So you have to call me by my first name now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, Y/N."

"Atta boy!"

Shoto smiles softly. He feels a sudden feeling in his chest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He places a hand on his chest, suddenly very confused.

Did my heart skip a beat? Do I have heart problems? Perhaps I should see Recovery Girl after this.... He thought.

Eventually, the day ended, and everyone was heading to their dorm rooms to finally get some sleep.

All except Shoto. He stayed on the green couch in the lounge, staring blankly at the wall, lost in thought.

"We're friends now, so you have to call me by my first name!" Your voice rang in his head like a lullaby.

A week passed, and you and Shoto stared hanging out more. You would say things like:

"Shoto! Do you ever thinks ants get lonely?"

"Shoto! Did you know worms have an asshole?"

"Shoto! Whats your least favorite animal?"

Things that would make him smile, or things that would make him confused. Things that would make him think, or things that would make him surprised.

Every little thing you did made him have a soft and warm feeling in his chest. Shoto, completely oblivious to these feelings, decides to confront his friend, Izuku. One night, everyone is staring to head to bed, when Shoto approaches Izuku.

"Midoriya." He says, staring the conversation. "I need your help."

Izuku tilts his head, looking up at his friend. His green eyes fill with curiosity. "What is it, Todoroki? Is everything okay?" He wonders.

"I think I have heart problems." Shoto says, in earshot for Mina and Ochako to hear.

"WHAT?!" Mina gasps, suddenly very interested to Shoto's conversation with Izuku. Mina and Ochako rush over to them, their eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay, Todoroki? Should we get you to the hospital?" Midoriya asks, standing up as his expression turns to one of concern.

Shoto thinks for a moment, before speaking again. "No. I just feel a warm feeling in my chest, and sometimes my heart skips a beat. Sometimes my face gets hot, even though I try and cool myself down with my left side."

Mina and Ochako's eyes widen. The two beam, leaning ever so closely to Shoto. "Do you feel this way around a certain someone?" Mina says, her voice giddy and excited.

Shoto nods. "Yes, it happens around L/- I mean, Y/N."

Mina and Ochako squeal, while Izuku sighs in relief, glad his friend isn't suffering from any heart failure.

"What? What is it?" Shoto looks at them all, very confused. Did he really have heart problems...?

"Its love!" Mina grabs Ochako's hands, the two of them bouncing around in circles.

"Love..?" Shoto tilts his head. "Yes, Y/N is my friend. I care for them deeply." He nods, confused to why Mina and Ochako were makeing a big deal about this fact.

"No, Todoroki!" Mina looks at him in the eyes as she stops bouncing. "Romantic love." She corrects.

Something in Shoto's brain clicks. "Oh." He says quietly, a soft dusty pink tainting his cheeks.

Shoto began to hang out with you more, staying by your side as you ramble about silly things, or smiling as you show him silly things.

Until one day, Izuku encouraged him to confess.

Shoto asked you to meet him at the courtyard after school, and you did. Shoto took a deep breath, trying to gather his nerves before he spoke to you.

"Y/N." He says softly as he looks into your eyes.

Your beautiful eyes...the ones he could get lost in for hours. The ones he loved staring into.

"I have feelings for you. Romantic ones." He finally says after a moment of silence.

You, being the person you were, holds up a hand for him to high-five. "Dude, no way, that is awesome sauce!" You say.

Shoto looks at you in confusion and disbelief. You suddenly cover your mouth in embarrassment, muttering quiet apologizes.

"Oh god, I'm really sorry, Shoto! It just popped into my head and then my mouth talked and then it all fell apart but what I ment to say was..." You take a deep breath, and look at him in the eyes.

"I love you. Like a lot." You hold out your arms as far as they could go. "If I was able to, I would stretch my arms pur way further but this is as far as they can go. But I really do love you!" You beam.

Shoto chuckles softly at your antics. He suddenly feels...complete.

You smile as well, and lower your hands. Then, you slowly extend your hand out to him to take. Shoto's eyes light up slightly. He slowly take your hand, and you intertwine your fingers with his.

"Now I get to tell people I have my own furnace AND my own cooler!" You grin brightly, making Shoto chuckle again.

He kisses your cheek gently. "Your pretty." He whispers.

And so doofus and doofus 2.0 relationship begins.

#shoto todoroki x male reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #Mha #Shoto Todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #Bnha #todoroki shoto x reader

289 notes · View notes

jolapeno · 1 year

Text

circles and squares

simon ghost riley x f!reader (cod)

an: you should all thank @halfmoth-halfman for this one and our early morning chat. I heart you lots.

an: written on phone, mind any errors.

Ghost is aware he’s not the easiest person to be with.

He's an entanglement of repressed feelings, scars that run deeper than layers of skin and a need for solitude, that you seem to have slid past.

You take it all in your stride, not fazed—not asking too much—the patience of a saint.

It’s not that why he likes you. It’s that you make up rules for the two of them with relative ease. Providing him with ways to express himself without using words.

For someone whose skin is littered with only a handful of marked memories and a heart still soft, you surprise him with how deeply you understand him.

How much you just get him.

In all of his future thinking, Ghost never envisioned such a soul would fall for him—although Simon had always hoped.

Two fragmented parts of him working together, desperate to keep whatever was happening between the two of you intact. Even if he had little to give and not a whole lot to offer, you stuck around.

You say very little when it comes to his past, taking what you can with gratitude. When you’re ticking, turning over thoughts—needing something but unsure how to ask for it—you make up solutions to give him a voice.

Not a physical one, but one just as loud.

“—like this,” you explain, taking the pen from his hand, drawing a circle—small, no bigger than 2cm—onto the plain, crisp page.

The black stands out, all stark against the white paper on the chipped wooden desk. His eyes glancing up from the nib, to your eyes.

He wants to ask for an explanation, folding his arms, sighing as he runs his tongue over his teeth.

You smile.

He suspects it isn’t because you hear his sigh or because of the way he folds his arms—but because you know him.

You know it isn’t to do with impatience or confusion, but rather because you understand that the two of you squirrelled away in a room brings questions. Ones he wants to save you from, as though you’re a damsel and not a lieutenant under him.

You don’t need to protect me.

You’d said that once. Under him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your fingers brush over stubble and blemishes.

But he does.

Not just from the gossip, from the glances. But those who look for him—those who inflicted each defacement he lets you see.

If anything, you’re one of the very things he needs to protect. Keep you safe.

“If we fill it in like this,” you say, shading in the circle. “We’ll know the other person isn’t okay. We don’t have to explain to why, but we’ll know.”

He cocks a brow, not that you can see it. His mask, the one all plain black, more for the base than out in the open, hiding his expressions from you.

Ghost suspects, though, you see right through the fabric. Like you saw through him to begin with. Ignored the snark and the bitterness, saw something—someone—worth getting drenched for when you were both stationed in Europe.

He hadn’t liked the rain before then, not the scent of it—not the way it made his clothes cling to his skin, how it suffocated him. But he likes how you looked in the rain, how your face relaxed even as your hair flattened to your head. How your hand turned palm over, catching droplets like they were blessings and not something which had ruined an entire night of recon.

“Alright, but if we’re OK?” He asks.

Your head nods, drawing another circle next to it. Not filling it, just leaving the outline there.

“Not filled in means we’re okay.”

It doesn’t cross his mind what they’ll do if there’s no paper, if there’s no way in a crowded room to get across that you’re drowning. That it feels too much. That you need him.

You think about it, though. Because you always are. Always thinking of ways to make things easier, better. Ticking it off—always assessing, attempting to better things. Not for you, never for you (your selflessness knows no bounds), but for him.

An answer to his inner thought was answered a month or two later.

It’s a mess, loud voices—arguments brewing in fractions as mutinies begin to build. Price in the centre, chewing his cheek, fingers twitching, likely desperate for a cigar or even a drink as another captain chews his ear off.

The 141 rarely partner with others for this reason.

He doesn’t linger on Price. Knows if he’s needed, he’ll hear his name cutting through the loudness. So he looks for you, eyes searching, finding you pressed into the corner. Alone.

You’ve not been sleeping. Tossing, turning beside him. Fingers reaching for him, finding his side, his arm—even his fingers—as your brows knit and stencils lines into your face.

He never wakes you, just lets you take—and when you don’t take, he just holds. Clutching you close, pressing your ear to his chest, hoping the steady beat of his heart is enough.

Sometimes it is.

He suspects now wouldn’t be.

Your back is pressed against the wall, eyes down on the ground before they flick up, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Not just because your eyes are stunning, cutting into him from across a room, but because of how you look at him: a silent calling, a beckoning, a help dancing close to your pupils.

Slowly, for confirmation, he watches as you raise your right hand, drawing a circle on your left shoulder. His eyes track it, following it as it meets your starting point. Mind drowning out Johnny, not even listening to the group of idiots next to him—focused instead on how you begin using your finger to fill in the symbolic shape.

He nods.

Feet moving, gloved hands pushing shoulders and bodies, parting the pockets of people as he moves towards you.

Ghost isn’t sure what he can do when he gets there, his pulse just thumping—following only a need to be next to you. He expects murmurs, more suspicious comments about how he’s always close by to you. Smarter soldiers recognise that he always has an eye on you if you’re close—they’re just not smart enough to identify something is already happening, and has been for a while.

As he nears you, he’s thankful he doesn’t need to ask it because you’re already keeping your eyes on him. Seeing as he gets closer that your lips are slightly parted, a little O created, chest rising and falling as you take in shallow breaths.

He wants to offer something, whether it’s his voice, presence, or anything. Which is why he asks:

“Wanna get out of here?”

He’s not sure if you expect it—not sure if you had considered it an option. Your head nodding, furiously, blinking away tears that threaten to spill as your hand brushes his wrist.

Not to take his hand—the two of you don’t do that—but to tap. Once, twice.

Thank you.

He nods. Not able to (or wanting to) stop the way his heart soars at it—at being able to provide you with something.

Give you a fraction of what you give to him: a way out, a safe place.

In time, your things begin to merge with his.

Not just on base, but back in England too. Your socks are washed with his, your back covered in one of his tees that skirts your thighs.

He doesn’t mind, for the most part, only finding he struggles with it at night. When you’re sound asleep, soft snores kissing the darkness as he turns over the many ways you could be taken from him.

Ghost sleeps less when he’s home. Most of his REM is collected in the day, sun shimmering through the blinds, your fingers drawing shapes on his shoulders.

Sometimes they’re squares—which means either I love you, or I miss you—and sometimes their triangles. The latter, he’s not sure if they have a meaning. He just draws them back on your knee, watching your lips slide up into your cheek as you try to read your book.

He likes it—the code.

The one he can say down the radio. The one he can draw on your arm when you’re both pressed together in some place in the Middle East.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise him when you shout his name, the front door being kicked shut behind you—a surprise in a carrier bag.

“I know you’re struggling.”

You say it so plainly. Not a hello or how are you, getting straight into it, watching him as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his joggers.

He says nothing either because there’s little reason to lie. He wears the truth well, the bags under his eyes worse than when he’s sent away on a solo—his need to pin you under him in the morning when sleep hasn’t been wiped from your eyes another tick against your assumption.

Retrieving the item from your bag, you place it on the counter with a tap. His eyes falling from you to them, noticing four magnets.

Nothing impressive, nothing too much. But he knows instantly what they are.

One black circle, one white circle; one green circle, one red circle.

“Naturally, I’m the colourful ones.”

“Naturally,” he snorts.

Moving towards him, you slide a hand over his hip. “They’ll live at the base of the fridge door, and we’ll slide one up—close to the top. When we remember,” you say, looking at him. “Same as the circles. For me, red is—“

“Black.”

Nodding, you try to smile. “Square.”

“Square,” he says back, quickly. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing a line across it.

Wondering, as he always does, how you remain so soft, so kind. How even though you’re haunted too, you still find ways to do things for him—

“Because I love you,” you say, as though reading his mind. “It’s easy because I love you.”

Swallowing, he holds your cheek more firmly, his other hand resting on your hip.

“Y… you don’t have to say it, I’m fine with—“

“I love you. It’s why I worry.”

Rolling your lips, you sigh—soft and small—before you nod. “I know, Simon. But we keep each other safe. Yeah?”

He nods back.

Because you do keep him safe. Not wearing a mark on your skin from him—or asking him to leave one—just in case. Your name on the place the two of you call yours, just in case.

An understanding is known about the future—mainly around rings and names, just in case.

“Which circle are you?”

His lips twitch, a smile wanting to show. “White.”

“Okay, good.” Your finger begins to draw a triangle, his eyes narrowing, your lips rising into a smirk. “Bought something else, too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you lick your lips, eyes widening as you continue to draw it on him. “Wanna go upstairs and… see?”

It hits him only then. The deviousness in your eyes showing.

Triangle means—

“I want you,” you whisper.

He snorts, his laugh dying in his throat, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

Kissing shapes against your lips, unshaded circles, squares, and then triangles.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost x you #ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost x female reader #ghost riley headcanon

2K notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 3 months

Text

I don’t wanna live forever

Pairing : Demon!Dean X Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, demon dean, violence, language. Unedited

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls, hoping you'd call

It's just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all

Baby, baby, I feel crazy, up all night, all night and every day

Y/n knew Dean getting the Mark of Cain was the most stupidest thing he's ever done, taking into consideration that he's Dean Winchester and he's done plenty of stupid in his life. Part of her wants to strangle Crowley for getting him into that mess but part of her knew that Dean would've done whatever it'd take to take down Abbadon. She didn't think it'd bring them here to this day where Dean would turn into a demon and leave the bunker for good. He's with Crowley and God knows where.

A knock on the door breaks her away from her thoughts. She looks up to see Sam standing in the doorway.

"Glaring at the walls of his room won't bring him back Y/n." He said sympathetically. He knew she was hurting as much as he was. After-all they both love Dean.

"What am I supposed to do, Sam." She sounded defeated. "I've tried calling him a thousand times and he doesn't answer."

"We're doing the best we can and we will bring him back, you know that." Sam replied walking towards her and sitting on the bed. "You know we always do."

"Part of me thinks he doesn't want to come back, its like there's no point hoping." She felt herself tear up. "The mark is overpowering him."

"Hey don't think about it. Our Dean is still in there. We'll bring him back." Sam looked at her face. She looked tired. "Y/n you haven't slept in days. You should get some rest."

"Yeah."

I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I know I'll be living in vain

And I don't wanna fit wherever

I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home

It's been days since Dean left and Y/n has had enough. She knows Sam's been torturing demons to find out Dean and Crowley's location but she can't just sit around anymore. She'll do whatever it takes to find him even if it's illegal. She opens up her laptop and hacks into the traffic signal camera's all over the country. She runs a facial recognition of Dean's face and the Impala's license plate. She crossed her fingers hoping it does it thing soon because the longer she stays on the site the more risk she's at getting into trouble. Although the bunker is untraceable they can't afford the feds on their ass.

The screen loads successfully and she jumps in happiness. The Impala last crossed a traffic signal three towns over. She didn't know when Sam would return so she didn't wait for him. She quickly changed into her Fed suit and drove towards her destination.

Knowing Dean, he's probably at some bar, she shortlisted the bars across that town and hoped she'd find him in one of those. She visited two bars and much to her dismay he hadn't been there. However at the third bar, she didn't find him but she found a clue.

"That man? Yeah he was here a few hours ago, got into fight with another guy. Beat him to a pulp so had to kick him out." The bartender said while cleaning the countertop.

"Any idea where he went?" She asked with hope.

"There's another bar ten minutes from here, you can check there." She tipped the man, thanking him for his help.

"Agent." He called out behind her, she turned to him, "be careful out there, that man's feral." She nodded and left

the place.

She walked in the inside the bar and it was almost empty considering it's pretty early in the day. She noticed a figure sitting at the bar top and immediately recognised him.

"Dean." She called out softly. He turned to look at her but then he turned again focusing on his drink. She said his name again and moved towards him but was stopped by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Oh Vixen found her Squirrel. Didn't bring Moose along?" The voice spoke in a Scottish accent.

"Fuck off Crowley." She replied glaring at the man in the black suit.

"You wound me, darlin." He sassed. "Dean doesn't wanna go back so why can't you two blithering idiots.... LET HIM GO."

"I'm not fucking around here." She pulled out her gun pointing it at him, she removed the safety. "Let me talk to him. Alone."

"Your guns don't work on me." He replied smugly.

"I wouldn't be so sure." She challenged, knowing she'd carved the devils trap into the bullets. She knew she'd never have the heart to use it on Dean but Crowley is a different matter. The short man rolled his eyes and poofed away. She made her way towards Dean and sat beside him.

"Dean.." she said his name ever so softly just the way she always did. He didn't even turn to look her continuing to pour drink after drink in his glass. "Baby, let's go home." She moved her hand to put on top of his. He raised his brow at the gesture.

"I'm telling you this once. Leave." Dean moved his hand away and looked at her. No trace of a smile on his face, the smile she had come to love.

"No, I won't leave here without you. Come back home." She partially begged. "I don't wanna live without you, Dean. Please come home with me."

He stood up, his laugh resonating through the empty bar. She looked at him, hurt written all across her face. She knew this wasn't her Dean but seeing him act this way didn't hurt any less. She walked right in front of him as he stopped laughing.

"What's funny huh?" Anger bubbled inside her.

"Oh nothing." He shrugged, an evil smile appeared on his face. "You said you wouldn't leave here without me, yeah?" He asked rhetorically circling around her. "And you said you can't live without me either." He paused, dramatically thinking for a second.

"Dean.."

"How about I kill you then, right here, right now." He said stopping in front of her with a blade knife. "It'll be so much fun, for me." Y/n took a deep breath, her gun clutched in her hand tightly. "For you though..." he drawled with a chuckle.

"I don't wanna hurt you Dean." She replied.

"I don't think you can, even if you want to." Dean smirked evilly. "Last chance. Leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." She said. "Not without you."

"I'm gonna have so much fun." Dean scoffed before he grabbed her by the neck, choking her. She tried pushing his hand away but she was having a hard time. She kicked him the stomach making him loosen his grip but not completely let go. He threw the against the bar top, she groaned as fell. Her gun falling from her hand.

"This isn't you Dean." She coughed getting up.

"I told you to leave." Dean threw a punch but she moved out of way and his hand smashed a bottle. She punched him the jaw and he recoiled. He pushed her to ground and straddled her waist. He pinned her arms above her head in one of his hands, immobilising her. The mark on his arm itched and he brought the knife to her throat. He pressed it and watched as blood trickled down the column of her neck.

"Do it." She said looking at him.

"I'll take my time with it." Dean replied smugly. Her scratched her cheek with the blade. He then moved it down to her collarbone and she screamed in pain. His lips formed into a sinister smile.

Y/n took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if Dean forgot that she mostly fights with her legs or was it his cocky demonic self that made him leave her legs completely unattended. She brought her legs upwards and hooked her them around his waist, catching him off guard and flipping him off her. That seemed to have pissed him off.

She made a run for her gun but he was able to slash her side before she got her hands on the weapon. She gasped, her right hand touching the wound while she gripped her gun in her left.

"You're pathetic, you know you can't win yet you try so hard." Dean growled closing in on her. "But now I'm bored." He grabbed her left arm and twisted it until a crack was heard. She screamed as the gun fell from her hand. He picked it up and pointed at her head. He pulled the trigger without even blinking.

Y/n blinked as she felt herself being moved from her place. And then she heard a gunshot. Turns out Crowley moved her last minute before Dean fired. She watched Dean wide eyed, unable to process that he was going to kill her. She's alive not because he didn't want to kill her but because Crowley intervened.

"Why did you-" she barely let out but Crowley had disappeared but this time with Dean.

I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind

Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life

Back at the Bunker, Y/n had her arm in a cast, the wound on her side stitched up and bandages all over her. She had taken painkillers for the physical pain but she doesn't know how to sooth her hollow heart.

She laid on Dean's bed and stared at the ceiling, unmoving. A knock resonated at the door and it opened a few seconds later.

"If you're here to tell me I was stupid and reckless. Save it." She said without removing her eyes from the ceiling.

"I know you just wanted him back." Sam replied.

"He's gone, Sam." A tear slipped from her eye. She sat up and looked at the younger Winchester "He wasn't my Dean." Before she knew her body shook and sobs escaped her lips. "Makes me wonder if I dodged the bullet or just lost the love of my life."

Sam sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her as much as he could without hurting her. "After everything that's happened, you still?" Sam trailed off not knowing how to continue.

"I told you Sam he wasn't my Dean. My Dean would rather die than hurt me. Of course I love him." She whispered in his chest. "It hurts to think of what he's become, so much more than these wounds could ever hurt."

"Dean's lucky you chose him. I'm sure he'll agree when he comes back." Sam assured her. "I won't give up on him. He's my brother. I'll bring him back for you. For us." Sam promised and he hoped he could keep that promise.

Part 2

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #sam and dean #spn fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #nini writes

240 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

No bc I keep thinking of modern Sev trying to get into the dating game because she wants to settle down and she gets on a dating app because Jinx had mentioned in a conversation with Silco and she ends up matching with reader,,, ahh it’s stuck in my brain

i changed this just a bit to make jinx even more of a shithead hehehe i hope u love it

men and minors dni

"aunt sevy." sevika rolls her eyes at the nickname she hates, and looks up from her book at jinx.

the girl's ten years old now, old enough to know just the right buttons to push to annoy sevika. and sevika's stuck on babysitting duty, because she's an idiot and agreed to be the shithead's godmother when jinx was still a harmless, quiet baby.

"what?" she grunts.

"why don't you have a wife?" jinx asks.

sevika groans. "did your dad put you up to this?" she asks. silco's been bothering her about the same thing lately.

"no." she says. "'m jus' wonderin'. when we have birthday parties and stuff, all the adults bring their boyfriends and girlfriends and wives. but you never do. why not?" jinx asks.

sevika tries her best not to kick jinx's shin. she manages, but not without flicking the kid's forehead.

the truth is that sevika's been asking herself the same thing lately. but she's realized that after so many years of emotionless hook-ups, she's got no idea how a relationship would even fucking work, and she's decided it's easier for everyone if she just... doesn't try.

"mind your own buisness." sevika grunts eventually. jinx studies her with those frighteningly inquisitive eyes of hers, before she smirks, turns on her heel, and runs to her room.

sevika's too relieved by jinx's disappearance that she doesn't even consider that the girl could be up to something.

three days later, sevika gets a call from silco at five in the morning.

"do you know what fucking time it is?" she groans into the receiver as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

"i'm sorry."

"what's so fuckin' important that you couldn't wait to tell me at work?" sevika asks.

silco's responding sigh is long enough for sevika's stomach to sink. "you should dress nice today. a suit, maybe, or at least nice slacks and a button up."

"why? do we have a meeting?"

"no." silco says. sevika waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. she huffs.

"silco what the fuck is going on?" she asks.

"you have a date tonight."

it's silent for a few moments. sevika tries to remember if she'd drunkinly given out her number to someone, or if silco asked her to butter up a client. she draws a blank. "...i do?" she asks.

silco sighs again. "jinx got the idea in her head that you need a wife, so she made you a dating profile."

"what?!"

"she's been cat fishing some poor person as you, and she's scheduled a date for the two of you tonight at seven."

"she what!?" sevika screams. her neighbor pounds on the wall that they share. sevika pounds right back. "silco, there is no way in hell i'm going on a date jinx set up for me."

"yes, i figured you'd say that." silco sighs. sevika's phone buzzes. "check your messages."

sevika pulls her phone away from her face and checks the new text sent from silco.

she gulps when your picture pops onto her screen.

you're... everything. if sevika was asked to describe her type, she'd have described you to a tee.

silco starts talking on the other line, and sevika blinks down at your picture one last time before pulling it back up to her face.

"fine." sevika grunts. she can hear silco's smile, and she huffs. "shut the fuck up. which suit should i wear?"

silco cackles on the other line.

sevika almost passes out when she meets you in person. you're stunning, and she's nervous, and she knows absolutely nothing about you even though it seems like jinx has told you everything about her.

it's only when you've ordered your dinner and are chatting over bread that sevika finally confesses.

"i have to tell you something." she mutters.

you pause mid-chew, your lame story about a fat squirrel you'd seen earlier today entirely forgotten at the sight of your gorgeous date's grimace. "don't tell me you're straight." you groan.

sevika cackles, and you relax a bit into your seat, smiling as you watch her catch her breath. "no!" she laughs. "god, no." she wipes her eyes. "i am very gay. and i find you..." she trails off, her eyes darting down to your lips for just a flash, before she blinks and shakes her head. "very attractive." she says.

you gulp, ignoring your sudden arousal. "so... what's the problem?" you ask.

sevika sighs and looks down at her hands. "you've been catfished."

you frown. "uh..." you study the woman in front of you. "you are sevika right? i mean... you look just like your pictures..."

sevika chuckles and shakes her head. "yes, that's me in those pictures. but you haven't been talking to me all week."

"so..." you're beyond confused. "who have i been talking to?" you ask.

sevika cringes. "my fucking shithead niece." she says.

relief floods your body. this isn't a scam or a fucked up prank-- it's a real date with a beautiful woman who's looking at you like she's expecting you to throw your glass of wine in her face.

instead, you burst into laughter. "you sound awfully fond of her."

sevika's stiff posture relaxes, and she huffs her own laugh. "she was cute before she could talk." she says, shrugging. you laugh even harder, reaching across the table to take sevika's hand and squeeze it as you try to compose yourself. "but now she's old enough to ask me why i'm still single and work a smartphone..."

"well, that explains why you had so many typos in your texts."

"oh, god." sevika groans.

"you misspelled 'restaurant' like five times."

"it's a hard word." she chuckles.

you pull the gorgeous woman's hand up to kiss her knuckles, and watch in fascination as all her worry and embarrassment melts away. "so." you say.

"so." sevika repeats.

"if you'd like to leave i understand, i won't be offended. i'm not sure i'd be into the dates my little cousins would pick out for me."

"no!" sevika shouts. she cringes as half the restaurant turns to look at her. you giggle. "no, that's not-- i really want to be here. i just-- i just wanted you to know that you weren't talking to me... you were talking to a ten year old."

it's quiet for a minute as you try to wrap your mind around the situation. so you'll have to re-introduce yourself to the woman in front of you-- that's fine. you're looking forward to getting to know her, and it seems like she wants to get to know you too.

you take a sip of your wine, then giggle when a thought occurs to you. "god, i'm so fucking glad i didn't try sexting with you." you say.

sevika bursts into surprised laughter, and she has to pinch herself to keep from launching over the table and kissing you.

(jinx never lets sevika live down the fact that she married the first person she picked out for her aunt.)

(jinx also officiates your wedding.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

242 notes · View notes

nsharks · 2 years

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part six —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this was longer but i decided to break it up sorry :p

The last glimpse of civilization you had was a chaotic one.

It was the first day of the outbreak.

Freshly infected running around. Bodies scattered in the streets like dead flies. Screaming. Paul grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the treeline. Your nephew shrieking in your sister’s arms. It’s funny how trauma likes to grab hold of the minute details. You can also recall seeing a bus pass by with an ad for some superhero movie. You had planned on seeing it. The bus crashed into a house and the ad was licked by flames.

Paul was always the one to make the trips to pharmacies and markets. He was the one who wielded a gun, not you. You were the one to stay behind, fortify the fence, and watch over the two broken members of your family.

Society's dust— that is what you leave Ghost’s territory for.

You know you need to.

You wait for your period to end.

Freshly spilled blood is not a scent you want to carry. Greys are drawn to it like flies to rot. Something you learned the hard way once during a hunt with Paul. They were able to catch your scent from a further distance than usual because of it.

To your relief, Ghost lets you look at his map.

Of course, you can’t take it with you.

“Jus’ memorize it,” he grumbles under his breath.

So the evening before you venture out, you study the map of Northern England. Ghost brought out a whole stack of them from the room you’re certain is his. You notice a map of the European continent on top, briefly catching a glimpse of a black circle drawn in the middle somewhere, but he is quick to move it underneath the pile.

You focus on the one you need.

There is a black dot to indicate where their camp is amid the forest. Some 20 kilometers south is the closest city. Or village rather. Ribchester. Maybe that is a safer bet than going by yourself to a big city like Manchester. You may have a bow and knife and some strength, but you don't have a car or guns like he does. Or companions coming with you.

Blue helps you turn your pillowcase into a strapped bag with some scissors. You need something to carry what you find. Ghost isn't willing to let you leave with his backpack. Bitterly, you get it. It’s a useful item.

The next morning, you feel as prepared as you can be. You wake up earlier than usual, before Blue has the chance to poke inside your shed with Grim. You eat a big breakfast of two dried squirrels. You have a third one to take with you.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Blue picks at her breakfast as she sits beside you at the table. Her lips twist around thoughtfully.

You glance between her and Ghost. His stare is unreadable like usual. Dark, stoic, and hiding under lowered brows. You wonder what he thinks— if he would be secretly relieved if you don't make it back alive. Probably. He could get rid of you without Blue pointing the blame at him.

"Medicine is important. I need to find my own.”

We can’t risk sneaking anymore, you would say if he wasn’t right there. But by the way she slides her blue eyes to discreetly meet yours, you think she gets the hint.

"Just be careful, okay?" You nod. "And remember—" she lifts a finger, "—you have to shoot those fucks in the brain."

"I know. I've been practicing my aim a bit."

The smile you offer is only half-there. The truth is, you are risking your life with this. Part of you wonders how deeply she has processed that.

Despite her lips appearing more chewed-through than usual, they give a wary smile in return.

“Yeah, we could hear you hitting the trees. Right, Ghost?"

He hums low, but characteristically, doesn't have much to say about you.

But when you head for the cabin door after eating, his firm hand surprises you, gloved and skeletal. It wraps around your bicep and brings you to a halt before you can step outside. Heat spreads through his glove and the layers of your clothes. You turn around just as a metal object is silently offered to your chest. Ghost holds your stare before you look down at what he is giving you.

It's the revolver. The one they collected from that man.

The gun with only one cartridge.

"Thanks."

You bite your cheek to hide the dry tone, slipping the revolver into your coat pocket. Maybe it will come in handy. At least he now trusts you enough not to immediately point it at him or her.

Blue is the one to follow you out to the gate of their camp.

"I hope you find something good."

"Me, too."

"You know, Ghost and I only went on one trip that I can remember," she says as she unlocks the bolts for you.

"Yeah?"

"To get him more ammo from a military base," she explains with a wave of her hand. "It was pretty close, though. He says that we went on one other trip back to Manchester when things first happened, but he carried me on his back the whole time so I don't remember much except for all the loud sounds.”

This part she adds quietly: "Think I closed my eyes for most of it."

"I would have closed my eyes, too, Blue.”

The next glimpse of civilization you get is a desolate one.

Again, you are on your own. Though, maybe you’ve been alone this whole time in a way.

It is that weird time between winter and spring when the air is crisp but the sun is bright. You hope to complete the trip in one day, which gives you about nine hours. You walk and walk, leaving Ghost's familiar territory behind until the trees become new to you again. You’ve never gone south before. You stop by a creek to drink some water along the way. By high noon, you exit the forest for the first time in five years.

You can see it. Overgrown shrubs and dry vines that crawl over cracked concrete. A road. A billboard arches over with a peeled ad for shaving cream, the woman’s face looking mangled. Your bow is poised as you follow the highway towards the village, recalling a time when you used to take the bus ride down this very route to visit your sister’s home. You liked watching the trees and rolling hills pass through the window as you tucked your ears under headphones.

It is so strange.

The air is quiet with abandonment.

Briefly, you ache for a world that once existed and the life you once lived. Car rides. Music whenever you wanted. Drunk outings on the weekends when you were supposed to be studying for nursing school. Hope for a family of your own someday.

But you have to ignore all that to stay focused on the present. Now, life is whittled down to basic needs and protecting yourself the best you can.

The village soon appears as stone buildings with unkempt wisteria scaling the sides. Abandoned cars haphazardly parked throughout the streets. You keep your guard up and your nose flared as you approach. There is a faint, awful scent that looms in the air, but it is not strong enough to cause concern. Not yet.

A pharmacy.

You need to find one.

If you want to make it back to their camp by nightfall, then you can only waste about an hour or two here. You could spend the night in a tree and trek the 20 kilometers tomorrow, but sleeping in a branch is even more unpleasant than your shed and it is risky. You were willing to do it when you had no other choice, but what if some unfriendly people find you this time? Perhaps even unfriendlier than the threat of Ghost's knife to your neck.

An hour is killed just searching for the pharmacy.

You roam the empty streets.

Finally, you catch sight of the faded sign and your heart leaps. But the excitement fades away when your nose and eyes detect the group of Greys just outside the building in an empty parking lot. Their pale eyes aren’t pointed at you yet, so you move behind a crumpled car for cover. If you had gotten any closer, they surely would've smelled your human flesh.

You take a deep breath. How many are there?

Carefully, you poke your head out just an inch to survey the threat. Six of those fucks. That is doable given the range.

The last time you ran into Greys, you had no choice but to run because of the bow Ghost stepped on. This time, you can kill them off with the bow carved by his hands.

You are quick with it. You stand and release arrow by arrow. Four of the six are headshots. You aren't perfect. The last two receive arrows through their shoulders, but this type of wound means nothing to a Grey. It is their brains that are infected with the virus, just like Blue said.

These two begin running towards you, now catching a whiff of your scent.

You climb on top of the car. Hitting a running target is far trickier. You go for the faster one first, using two more arrows before hitting the skull, grey chunks of brain splattering onto the concrete. The slower one just barely reaches the car before you finish it off, the closer distance sharpening this final hit.

The pharmacy is reachable now.

As you run over, you gather the used arrows. Precious ammo. You pull them out of their bodies with a twist and a putrid squelch.

When you push through the doors to the pharmacy, you almost choke. The shelves— they are empty. You breeze through every aisle, eyes and hands seeking anything that could be left, but there is nothing. You check the back. You check the shelves behind the counter.

Empty, empty, empty.

“Oh, fuck me,” you croak. Hot tears spill down your cheeks.

You half expected this.

But you’ve come all this way.

You need something.

There must be somewhere else you can look.

The cars maybe. Most people used to keep med kits somewhere inside. There is a slight chance that one could’ve been forgotten. It is worth a try.

You keep moving, not wanting to return with an empty bag. The white sun hangs high. The dry air turns your tear-stained cheeks sticky. You pick up rocks to begin breaking the windows of the abandoned cars, poking your arm inside to undo the locks, and rummaging through the glove compartments.

CDs, magazines, condom wrappers.

Nothing.

“Please, please.”

You make it down the street like this, checking every single one. Distracted, you shatter the glass of a white sedan without noticing the shadow laying in the backseat.

Fingers wrap around your wrist as you reach for the inner lock.

A maggot-filled mouth lurches for the flesh of your hand.

An arrow won't work here. With a cry, you use your free hand to grab the revolver from your pocket and shoot its head. The sound echoes. The single bullet burrows right between its eyes. The Grey writhes for a moment before going limp against the seat.

Panting, you have to pry the bony fingers off your wrist.

Again, you search the glove compartment. In this car where the stench is thick enough to sicken you, a med kit and a Twix bar fall into your hands.

“Fuck— thank you.”

You stash both into your homemade bag.

You could leave now, but you are itching for some antibiotics. The kit will help you clean wounds without Ghost's help, but it won’t save you if you develop an infection.

The next idea you have is to check a house.

By the look of the sky, you can fit in at least two quick searches. You run over to the next street and kick at the front door of the first one you see. Nothing but knocked-over furniture and torn wallpaper. The bathroom cabinet is empty.

The next one you fight inside is decorated with furniture that smells like faded perfume. The first room you check is a bedroom. In the center, a full set of bones lies on the bed, void of any meat after God knows how long its been there. You try not to look at it. On the floor lies a pile of clothes. You could use some more, still dressed in the ones Ghost found you in. You don't even look at them, just grab what you can fit in your bag and move on to the bathroom.

Here, beside a pair of molded dentures, you find two half-full bottles of pills.

Amoxicillin.

Paracetamol.

You cry some more.

It's not much, but it is enough for now.

Your muscles are fatigued by the time you make it back.

You reek of sweat. It is a long walk. You run into a few more Greys but manage them. You eat the squirrel you brought.

Darkness covers the forest just when you spot the camp's fence in the distance. Relief. You actually did it. Some pride breathes into your tired lungs.

As you get closer, you make out two silhouettes leaving the gate. One is a girl who you tiredly smile at the sight of, and the other is a bulky tank.

You leap over the trench.

But when your boots land on the other side, the end of a rifle pokes your breastbone and prevents you from getting any closer.

"Ghost."

You can't help but shout at him, eyes widening. He is pointing a gun at you? You were just beginning to think he could tolerate you enough to not threaten murder anymore. The memory of your first encounter resurfaces.

"It's just me! What the hell are you doing?"

Panic finds you once again. Your chest rises and falls under his gun’s touch. You glance at Blue, who tries to get near you, but he sticks out an arm to keep her away.

"Dad," Blue groans, "Do you really have to— ”

The tip of the rifle brushes up over your collarbone and toward your neck. Your nerves awaken under cold metal.

"Let me see." His voice is firm.

Oh. Bites. He wants to see if you have any bites.

"Okay, okay." You nod breathlessly.

Swallowing, you gather your braided hair in your hands as he clicks on a flashlight. You have not been offered string to tie them with so most of the hair has fallen out as always. You roll your neck to one side, and then to the other to show him the unmarked skin. But he is not satisfied yet.

He moves the rifle down to the hem of your shirt and uses it to lift up the fabric just beneath your breasts, revealing the skin of your stomach and ribs. You should feel exposed, standing here with your bare midriff under the light, but the two of them have already seen this much of you. You are more concerned about the fact that he could kill you if he actually suspects you could’ve been bitten.

The cold air invites a shiver. Your teeth clench as you stare at him. In the darkness, his eyes almost lean red.

He lowers your shirt.

"Roll 'em up for me,” he demands, now giving a nod to your trousers.

You bend over to roll up the pantlegs, all the way up to your knees so he can’t complain about it. All that is revealed are your unshaven legs and sweat-laced socks. You are sure they can smell them from where they stand.

"She doesn't have any stupid bites, Ghost, alright?"

Blue tugs at his arm with a huff. Finally, the rifle lowers. You straighten back up and exhale the short breath you were holding.

There is a silent moment where the three of you just stand there. An owl hoots. Ghost rubs at his masked jaw and looks you over some more, eyes flicking to the filled bag over your shoulder with a raised brow.

And then, something unexpected.

A small body whirls into yours and you almost stumble back in a step. Blue wraps her arms around your waist and excitedly breathes out, "I knew you'd make it back. Ghost said you wouldn't. I told him you would."

What?

It is a short-lived hug.

But still, the first one you have had in a long time.

After this tiring day, your eyes close with some more moisture. It is a strange feeling, her young embrace. Her palms spread flat against your back and she presses her forehead to your shoulder because she is tall enough to reach it. You are just about to hug her in return, move your arms around her shoulders out of instinct, but she is soon tugged away by a skeletal hand. Her blue eyes drift down to her boots. She looks a mix of irritated and embarrassed.

In a daze, you end up back in the warmth of the cabin.

Blue begs you to show her what you found. You dump the contents of your pillowcase onto the table. Her father’s shadow lurks behind you somewhere, always watching and taking up space, but for now, you ignore him.

You cannot recall a time when you were in this kind of mood. It is enough to surface the waters of your grief. Because now, your survival does not have to rely so much on Ghost's mercy or the risk of Blue’s sneaky hands. Food, a med kit, one type of antibiotic. It should all be enough to keep you alive - to take care of yourself - for at least however long you end up staying here.

"Shit balls." Blue rummages through the goods. "You did pretty good."

"Right? I can't believe it," you whisper numbly. You wipe your eyes.

She holds up the clothes first, starting with a large, floral blouse that looks like something an old lady would wear. Her head tips back with a giggle.

"This is way too big for you."

"I'll make it work," you say, shrugging, but almost manage a quiet laugh, too. You don't really give a fuck what the clothes look like. At least you can change finally into something else - something that didn’t belong to your dead companions.

Where you care about the medicine, Blue is far more intrigued by the candy bar she discovers. She holds it up, and inspects the wrapper with curiously wide eyes, shooting a glance at her dad.

"T-w-i-x," she sounds out with pinched brows. She looks back at you. "What's this?"

"It's like... chocolate," you tell her.

"Oh— no way. Could I try some?"

You don't really care about the Twix bar. You almost forgot about it since the moment you found it in the car. But before you can tell her she can just have it as a late birthday gift - because she has done so much for you - Ghost moves to take it from her hands.

He puts it back down on the table.

“What’s hers is hers, kid. That’s how it works here.“

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #zombies #cod #zombie apocolypse au

1K notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 4 months

Text

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3 || Part One

PART 2/6 - JUICY TREAT (Killer)

CW: sex with stranger, public sex, oral sex, food fetish, vaginal sex, degrading language, afab reader

WC: ~2k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin

The sun was well and truly set by the time your movie ended, and you had a hankering for a snack. It was a little warmer than you expected, so the popsicles you bought earlier sounded like a nice refreshing treat. You climbed out of your tent and were immediately hit with the dank smell of weed, your neighbours were having somewhat of a party. Maybe you could find a way to squirrel yourself in and get to know them, the night was still young. You caught the blond's eye as you left your tent and headed to the kitchen, still parading in your satin nightie. You went to the freezer and examined your small selection of individually wrapped popsicles, but on hearing footsteps behind you it was easy to select one. You turned back and saw the blond entering, brushing past you to open the fridge next to the one you had just been bending in front of, a coy smile on his face before he disappeared behind the fridge door. You unwrapped your popsicle and sat yourself on a counter. The large kitchen had four stacked ovens on one side, several fridges on the opposite, and a long line of counter space broken up by sinks along the surrounding walls. The center of the room had a long metal table running down it, with evenly distributed hobs for stove top cooking.

The blond pulled a handful of items from the fridge and placed them on the counter next to you, pausing for a moment to watch you run your tongue up the length of the phallic shaped ice lolly before sucking it into your mouth. He made a small amused huff before starting to cut up some fresh looking fruits.

“Strange snack for munchies,” you noted, letting your ice lolly go with a pop.

“You could smell that huh?” He replied. He had a deep, smooth baritone that sent a shiver through you, you'd love to hear how that voice sounded saying all manner of dirty things. “Sorry, I hope we didn't bother you. The boys like to party.”

“Didn't bother me at all,” you smiled, kicking your feet over the side of the counter, “you don't like to party as well then?”

“I prefer to keep my head about me,” he explained, “they've got plenty of snacks, the fruit is for me”

“Looks nice and fresh,” you noted, examining the selection.

“Want some?” He asked, pausing his knife.

“Sure, if you're offering,” you smiled sweetly. He held up a juicy looking cube of watermelon, expecting you to take it, but instead you leaned in close and ate it right off his hand, licking the juices from his fingers while you watched his pupils dilate till only a sliver of his icy blue irises were left. Hook, line and sinker, we got one boys.

Fruit and popsicle quickly forgotten, he was on you like a predator, standing between your legs and pulling your waist forward so your core was flush against him, forcing his tongue inside your mouth which you eagerly accepted. His kiss was rough and wet, all tongue and playful nips at your bottom lip, pulling greedy moans from you as you felt him harden against you. He grinded his tented jeans between your legs and you pulled hard on his hair, your legs winding around his waist to encourage him.

“You're such a fucking tease,” he growled as he pulled away from the kiss, pulling your hair as he made marks on your neck, “laying around in that skimpy little swimsuit, parading around in this sexy fucking slip with those delicious thighs out”

“You like what you see, big boy?” You purred, “why don't you get a taste?”

He bit down on your shoulder, making you groan, before pulling away and kneeling eagerly between your legs. You spread them invitingly, pulling your already soaked panties aside and using two fingers to spread your folds open for him.

“Eager little slut,” he mumbled against your bare thigh as he nipped at it, “came in here looking for a juicy treat and I certainly found it”

You pushed aside his bangs so you could see his hungry eyes as he ran his tongue up your core, grunting into you as he sucked on your clit and bullied his tongue inside you. The thick wet muscle felt heavenly on and in you as he alternated, before he settled on working at your clit and pumping you with two long fingers. You leaned back against the counter with your other hand, awkwardly still holding the popsicle before deciding to suck on it while he watched you.

“Give me that,” he growled, standing back up. He took a long suck from the popsicle before giving you a devious look. “Can I fuck you with it?”

You took advantage of your flexibility, showing off as you put your feet up on the counter, planting them flat either side of you, leaning back now that you had two free hands to lean on. “Go ahead blondie”

He gave you a smug grin as he brought the popsicle down to your core, and you winced slightly at the sudden cold as he ran it over your clit before sliding it easily inside you. The slightly grooved edges and the foreign temperature had you moaning immediately, not to mention the fact that it felt downright filthy to let a stranger fuck you with food. The grooved edges were quickly melted away and smoothed by your hot centre, and the man knelt again to lap at the sticky juices that were dripping from you until the popsicle was no longer big enough to satisfy. He pulled it out and sucked the juices from it, a mixture of the melted treat and your slick, before biting away what was left and throwing the stick in a nearby sink.

“You're one nasty bitch you know that?” He grinned as he stood in front of you, undoing his belt and pants. You stayed in your spread position, watching him hungrily, your pussy pink from the cold as you reached down to toy with it.

“I'm not the one who suggested it,” you replied smugly, fingering yourself as he pulled his pants down enough to free his cock. He pumped himself a few times, he was long and thick, a soft bed of blonde pubes at the base, his tip pink and dripping with precum. He pulled a condom from his jeans pocket and slid it on and you eagerly removed your fingers as he lined himself up.

“Pretty little thing though,” he cooed, lifting your chin and reconnecting his mouth with yours as he bullied the head of his cock inside you, the rest of him sliding in easily with how well lubricated you were. He swallowed your moans as he let you stretch around him, before pulling away with one last tug to your bottom lip. He pulled your legs up and rested your knees on his shoulders, folding you in half as he began to thrust deep and fast into you. Your head lolled back as you moaned, giving in and letting your back lay flat against the counter, your hair splayed out around you. He pushed your nightie up till your breasts were exposed, groping at them with one hand while his other held your hips tight so he could piston into you.

“Fuck, so tight,” he growled.

“So big,” you replied between moans.

“You take me so well though,” he pinched your nipple before moving his hand down to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb, “so fucking tight and wet for me, good girl”

You preened at his praises, your back arching from pleasure as you tried to keep yourself from smashing against the wall with every hard thrust. Seeing your struggle he pulled out, and you barely had time to whine at the emptiness before he had flipped you over, your feet on the floor and your torso bent over the counter as he plunged back inside you. He held your hips tight as he resumed his brutal pace, grunting behind you as his fingers sunk into your skin.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you mewled, “just like that baby, I'm gonna cum real soon”

“Yessss, fuck,” he groaned, “cum for me beautiful, then I'm gonna paint that pretty ass of yours”

You reached back and grabbed his forearm for support as your orgasm tore through you, your legs shaking as you let out a long, satisfied groan. He worked you through it as long as he could before he had to pull out, tearing off the condom and shooting stripes of cum over your lower back and the curve of your ass. He kept one hand on your hip, his heavy length resting against your ass as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck, and here I thought this camping trip was going to be boring,” he half laughed as he stepped away, pulling paper towels from the communal roll on the counter and cleaning his cum off you. He dampened another and wiped it between your legs and down your inner thighs, cleaning away the sticky remnants of the popsicle. You stood back up and righted your clothing, sticking your head under a sink faucet to get a drink and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He'd already tucked himself away and gone back to his fruit by the time you turned back to him, and you sat yourself back up on the counter next to him, a satisfied smile on both of your faces. He handed you a slice of watermelon and you happily chomped away at it while he finished cutting up fruit, placing the snacks on a plate and cleaning away his mess.

“I'm Killer, by the way,” he told you as he dried his hands with a teatowel.

“[Y/N],” you smiled as you finished the watermelon and hopped down, throwing away the rind and washing your hands.

“What's a pretty thing like you doing camping on your own?” He asked curiously.

“Oh you know,” you replied coyly, “just unwinding”

He huffed in reply as he started to follow you out the kitchen door with his plate in hand. “Did you want to join us, by the way?” He asked as you approached the juncture of your two areas.

“Nah, I spent all morning driving,” you explained. As much as you'd love to smoke some weed and fool around some more, this was already more than you were expecting from today, and you could really use some sleep. “Another time though, definitely”

“Alright then, I'll hold you to that,” he smiled. You bid him goodnight and he returned to his friends, who were none the wiser as to what had happened in the kitchen given the volume of their talking and music. You used some wet wipes you kept handy in your tent, usually for use after pleasuring yourself, to clean up a little more thoroughly and changed into a clean set of panties before heading to bed. Before laying down to sleep you sent one more message your bestie.

You: blondie put out. So big too! 🤤 Bestie: damn you work quick, but then who can resist that banging bod of yours? You: lol thanks girlie 😘 ttyl, im off to sleep, nite! Bestie: night! Stay safe, use protection!

[NEXT PART]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates #eustass kid #kid one piece #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates x reader #wire one piece #wire x reader

114 notes · View notes

twilghtkoo · 1 year

Text

summary. haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. fluff, crack? friends to lovers??

word count. 1.64k

warnings. mentions of blood, a creepy man stares at reader

notes. me finding hello kitty bandaids in a store and buying them sparked this idea so :D like and reblog if you enjoy this !!

masterlist

—

your dear friend is one stubborn person. one who seeks excitement wherever he can find it and likes to find things out the hard way. in this case being, falling off of a skateboard. you told him to not ride too fast and to not go down the small pavement hill, and what did he do? go down the hill riding too fast. the hill had caused him to accelerate unwillingly and him not being able to stop himself before he collided with the ground.

you gasped at the scene from the bench that was a bit of a distance between you and haechan, who is lying still in the grass. he’s not dead, just lying face down suffering from embarrassment and moaning in pain.

you let out a big sigh, grabbing all of yours and his belongings before crouching down next to the limp body.

you carefully reach out your hand to place on his back. “haechan…”

he flinched at your presence, turning over slowly. “no go away, let me lie in my own embarrassment and pain alone.” he breathes out. his eyes are shut tightly as he holds his hip and his knees brought to his chest.

you roll your eyes at him, shoving his hand away to take a close look at his knee. “you’re a drama queen, you know that?”

his knee suffered the most from the fall, his hip for sure will have a bruise tomorrow.

you wince at the blood, the . “you’re bleeding haechan, we have to get back to the bench so i can clean it up.” you inform him.

he shakes his head, bringing his forearm to cover his face. “no, just leave me here to bleed out.”

you scoff, shaking your head before you take the arm that hides his face and pulling him up to his feet.

“shit,” he curses.

you allow him to use you for support as you both struggle to make your way back to the park bench. he sits himself down and finally glances at his knee.

his eyes bulge out at the bloody sheet on his knee. “ew, oh my god, that’s a lot of blood.”

you nod, “it’s not too bad, thank goodness. stay here i’m going to run to the convenience store and get stuff to clean it up.” and you’re gone before he can argue, leaving him alone with a bloody knee and an aching hip.

the doorbell chimes once you walk into the store, giving the worker a nod as you make your way to where the bandages are. there’s the store brand, a brand you recognize from tv and there’s some fun cartoon ones. pokémon, baby shark, toy story and others.

a certain box is quickly in your hands as you smirk to yourself. grabbing a few other things before making your way to pay for it.

“hey squirrel, did you see how i fell? was it embarrassing?” haechan speaks to the small animal that is munching on something next to his feet. the squirrel doesn’t react in any way, obviously. and he wonders to himself why he doesn’t listen to you, knowing you’re always right. why did he itch to go down that stupid hill and tumble to his doom. in front of you.

“look at all this blood. can you believe i fell in front of the girl i like.” he speaks again, but more like to himself as he stares at the gash on his knee and the drop of blood trickling down his leg.

you and him are close friends. first meeting each other at the movie theater when a few studio ghibli movies were showing. you ripped his ticket up in your cute work uniform behind the counter, making small conversation and telling him that spirited away was your favorite movie and telling him to enjoy the film.

and he enjoyed the film, even coming back out the theater room and finding you in the same spot you both met earlier. you were a quiet character, not much of a talker but just because you didn’t really have much to say but you loved listening. you love and care for people in your own way, something he admires and loves about you. to strangers you may seem closed off but when you grow comfortable with someone you’re very high spirited.

he hears footsteps running quickly to his side, the squirrel scurrying off probably to the tree behind him. goodbye, little friend.

you slow your pace down once you’re near him, a warm smile on your face as you wave the bag in your hand in front of him.

“i’m back,” you huffed, crouching and placing the bag down next to you. your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth, deeply concentrated as you take out the essentials.

“i’m just gonna clean it with water real quick, okay?” you show him the water bottle and napkins in your hands.

you carefully pour the liquid onto the napkins, your hand grabs the back of his knee as you bring it closer to the abrasion.

before the wet cloth touches him, he flinches away. “wait!” he yelps.

you jump, “what?”

“i’m scared,” he pouts.

your hands drop. “of what?”

“it’s gonna burn!”

“oh my god, haechan do not start.”

he lightly kicks his leg away from you, shielding his wound with his hands.

“haechan i will literally hold you down, it’s not gonna hurt that bad. i promise.” you try to threaten him. you reach for his leg again, wiping the blood that trickled it’s way down and stained his white socks.

his eyes follow another pair of feet walking past you, a man in a tracksuit ogles at your back. haechan follows his eyes to you, and he realizes you’re wearing a dress. haechan’a eyes narrow at the man but the stranger isn’t ashamed as he keeps looking back at you. he’s sure the man can feel his hard stares but is just ignoring him and that makes his blood coil. haechan shrugs his zip up sweater off and cooly throws it over your shoulders, it’s big enough on you to cover the draft to any passersby’s.

you look at the sweater on your shoulders but ignore it, he observes you for a bit before dropping his shoulders. “hmph, fine.”

“and look!” you gasp, reaching down beside you to hold out the small box of hello kitty band aids with a big smile curving your lips upwards.

haechan’s face deadpans. “how old are you?”

you frown, taken back. “what? they’re bandages, but cute. do you want to bleed out? don’t disrespect miss hello kitty.” you stuck your chin out.

he laughs, “i’m a grown ass man, i’m not slapping hello kitty on my battle scar.”

now it’s your turn to laugh. “a grown ass man that fell and acted like he was on the brink of death. yeah, okay. give me your knee,” you demanded.

you quickly dab as much blood away as you can through haechan’s hisses. wiping away the dried blood was a bit hard since he was fighting you but it’s all clean.

“green or pink?” you ask.

he tilts his head, thinking before he answers green.

you take the selected band-aid, the hello kitty that is customized with a green bow and green dress, a blue colored sky behind her and a red flower on the ground that matches her outfit. how cute.

you peel it off from the wrapper, gently placing it over his wound.

you crumble the trash in your hands and place it inside the grocery bag. “all better now, see? wasn’t so bad.”

you stand up, wincing from the position you were sat in for so long before haechan’s long, slick fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“wait, you forgot something.” he tells you.

“huh, what did i forget?” you genuinely ask.

he looks at you seriously. “you have to kiss it better, so it’ll heal quicker.”

your lips part and your cheeks heat up. “what…” the word barely leaves past your lips.

he raises his eyebrows expectantly, as if he’s waiting.

you shake your head, snatching your hand out of his grasp. “be serious, haechan.”

“i’m being very serious,” he tells you. “come on, don’t you want me to get better?”

“it’s just a scrape, your leg isn’t broken.” can he hear the thumping in your chest? god, it’s like it’s ringing in your ears.

you know he’s not gonna let you get away without actually kneeling down and kissing his knee. he will put up a fight in this park and you know it. he likes to tease you.

but how can he ask that question so freely. your lips have never touched any part of his skin because friends don’t do that!

it’s like he loves torturing you, contributing these heartfelt acts unknowingly like an arrow to your heart.

“you big baby.” you mumble out, crouching down and taking a clear glimpse at the cute bandage on his skin, it makes you smile.

haechan gazed at you, anticipating the moment your lips touch his skin. he is so sure that once your lips come in contact with his knee, he’ll be able to run a marathon. can you hear the thumping in his chest?

your face nears his knee, you pucker your lips and you gently place a kiss just below the bandage.

you clear your throat. “there. better now?” you try to act cool, standing to your feet and peering down at your friend.

“i don’t know, can you watch how far i run?” and your friend zooms past you, running across the grass field as if he wasn’t whining and limping by your side just a few moments ago.

“what the hell?” you shout out, chasing after him. “how are you running? yah, lee donghyuck!”

807 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year

Text

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

*gif is not mine

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win.

Daryl was not so easily mollified.

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye.

You weren’t afraid of him.

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you.

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said.

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger.

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes.

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about.

Still, you stayed.

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now.

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced.

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you.

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?”

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue.

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot.

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow.

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his.

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll.

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family.

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor.

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety.

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you.

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile.

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?”

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned.

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring.

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse.

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away.

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.”

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose.

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides.

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance.

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you.

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.”

“Why the fuck do you even care?!”

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing.

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door.

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you.

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside.

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded.

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder.

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle.

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt.

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you.

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.”

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair.

“Ya do?”

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment?

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail.

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile.

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy.

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you.

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder.

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement.

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot.

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently.

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper.

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly.

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite.

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter.

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.”

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front.

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later.

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat.

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear.

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands.

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!”

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat.

“Shit!”

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen.

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark.

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt.

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion.

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.”

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone.

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.”

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!”

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg?

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up.

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.”

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again.

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long. Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep.

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse.

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave.

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered.

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail.

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?”

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?”

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away.

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him.

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance.

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was.

A confession.

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this.

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap.

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other.

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you.

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?”

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.”

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it.

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already.

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away.

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair.

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #Spotify

734 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

There’s a knock on his door.

Keith freezes. There’s never a knock at his door.

“…Yeah?” he calls out cautiously, dog-earing his book and setting it down on his mattress. Shiro doesn’t knock, Shiro just calls out from wherever he is. Or texts him. And it’s not like Keith even has friends over, because he’d have to have friends to have them over. Shiro is also, as it turns out, equally as uncool, and never has company.

The door handle turns, and Adam pokes his head through the crack.

“You busy?” he asks.

Keith blinks. “Oh. Hi.”

That makes sense. Adam is here a lot. Keith has kind of forgotten to count him as company, actually. He kind of just appears at random times. Keith is half convinced that Adam is actually some kind of hologram Shiro has created to argue with, mostly because imagining that is really funny.

But he’s never come to Keith’s room before.

“Hi,” he says back, smiling slightly. “Shiro had to run out to handle something because the Garrison would delve into chaos without him, apparently. So he’ll be gone until after dinner.”

He looks at Keith expectantly. Keith stares back, eyes big, because he has no idea what the hell to say to that. Like, he’s correct, Shiro is the one and only thing holding the stupid school together, but Keith’s not quite sure why Adam has come to announce that to him.

“So are you free?” Adam repeats.

“Oh,” Keith says, startling a little. This is a — Adam is seeking him out. Intentionally. Planned. The fiancé of his foster — father? brother? mentor? Keith should ask more questions — has made plans, and they include Keith. Keith is being considered as someone to be hung out with.

“Yeah,” he says, voice cracking. “I’m free.”

“Cool,” Adam says, nodding. “C’mon.”

Keith scrambles off his bed and to the door, not wanting to give Adam time to change his mind. Not that it matters, or Keith cares about hanging out with him. Or anybody for that matter. But he’s curious, so.

“What are we doing?” Keith asks, jogging after him. Adam is a power walker. There’s not a lot of space to power walk in the small apartment, but Adam manages to leave him in the dust anyway. More fuel to Keith’s hologram theory.

“Well, obviously I love your brother more than the moon and stars,” Adam says matter-of-factly, striding over to the kitchen and opening counters.

Keith blinks. Well. That’s one question answered, he supposes.

“But I’m worried.” Adam sets down his armful of supplies; a small mixing bowl, chopsticks, a knife, a cutting board, and an array of vegetables. “Takashi tries very hard at everything he does. It usually gets him quite far. But cooking?” He shakes his head, grabbing a strainer and a head of cabbage and stepping over to the sink. “I don’t know who cursed him, but he’s physically incapable. And you’re thirteen. You’re growing. You can’t eat boxed noodles and peanut butter sandwiches all day. It’s bad for you. Come here.”

“I eat a lot of fruit,” Keith offers, feeling strangely like he has to defend Shiro, or something. Not even necessarily against Adam. Perhaps against the Allegations. “He’s very big on oranges. And mandarins. All citrus, really. There’s a lot of it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “That is because Takashi read a book about scurvy when he was fourteen and is now terrified of it, because he is a goober. He’s also afraid of squirrels, if you’re wondering. He found out that some of them are carnivorous and never recovered.”

A tiny, barely there smile quirks his lips. Keith bites the corners of his mouth so it doesn’t get any ideas, then steps hesitantly towards the kitchen island, across from Adam. He watches him scrub the leafy vegetable, careful to get in all the nooks and crannies, then pat it dry. He moves to set the cabbage down and then seems to think better of it, leaning back against the sink.

“Get me the salt,” he says, gesturing to a bowl on the counter with pursed lips.

Keith narrows his eyes at it suspiciously. “Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Adam observes.

“You answer very vaguely,” Keith returns.

Adam barks a laugh. Keith finds himself pleased at the reaction.

“I’m going to scrub the cabbage with it,” Adam explains. “It’ll draw out the moisture and take out any leftover dirt, too.”

Satisfied at the answer, Keith grabs the salt bowl, bringing it over. He moves to go back to his spot but Adam stops him with a wet hand around his wrist, gently guiding his hands towards the cabbage. Keith wills his shoulders to relax.

“One hand open to support it, one hand in the salt bowl,” Adam instructs quietly. “Grab a handful and start rubbing it in.”

Hesitantly, Keith grabs the offered cabbage, hyperaware of how his shoulder brushes against Adam’s bicep when he moves; how he doesn’t move away, but he’s not crowding, either. Just…close.

“I can actively feel my fingers pruning,” Keith says in disgust.

Adam snorts. “Yeah, they do that.”

Step by step, Adam guides him through chopping vegetables, measuring spices, mixing sauces, and handling the stove until Keith is working his way through a basic stir-fry like a pro. He’s more shocked than he should be when he tries his first bite of it and likes it.

“You have managed to avoid being cursed, too,” Adam says around his own bite, pleasantly surprised. “I was worried that living with Takashi would curse you by proxy. But this is good.”

“I mean. It was stir-fry. We chopped and we fried. Hard to fuck up,” Keith points out.

“You’d think. When I tried to do this with Shiro, the pan was charred so bad we had to throw it out. I don’t even know what he did. I was right there. It’s like he destroyed it by rancid vibes alone.”

Keith hides a smile in his noodles. Adam notices anyway, and grins.

“Sounds about right.”

“You’re good, though, kiddo,” Adam says, and his hand is heavy on Keith’s head. “You’re good.”

Keith swallows the sudden lump in his throat. His face gets red.

He leans into the touch.

———

other parts in this universe

319 notes · View notes

giuseppe-yuki · 28 days

Text

radio

esteban ocon x flying squirrel shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2.4k

warnings: kind of mean!pierre and some profanity

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: one of your first visits to the belgium grand prix goes a little unexpected

picture credits from pinterest :)

standing at a whopping 1.86 meters tall, it was obvious your boyfriend was one of the tallest drivers on the grid. he drew attention wherever he went due to his tall nature, reputation as a formula 1 driver, and of course, his good looks. unfortunately, this also meant that he had to deal with a lot of reporters and fans in public. he accepted this role as a public figure gracefully, smiling for skytv or signing a teenage boy’s alpine kit whenever prompted.

you, however, hated the spotlight. you often took advantage of este’s tall, lanky figure and hid behind him whenever people got too close for your comfort. whenever you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s body, he would always understand your distress and immediately loop his arm around you and pull you in closer to him. it was the exact reason why you were hardly spotted with esteban during any of his races.

however, with some begging and a brand new hermes bag from esteban, you agreed to go with him for the belgium grand prix.

when you arrive at the paddock, you carefully clutch said hermes bag with one hand while tightly holding on to your boyfriend’s hand with the other. he smiles at you reassuringly, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

suddenly, you hear several voices behind you. turning around, you see a group of girls, near your age, smiling giddily, holding out autograph books.

“hey esteban!” they exclaim, starstruck. “can we have your autograph?”

your boyfriend nods, giving them a polite smile. he quickly scribbles his signature in the books they held with outstretched hands.

afterwards, the group of girls thank him profusely and take off.

este turns to you. “you okay?” he asks, looking concerned.

you give him a nervous smile. you weren’t used to the fans, but most of them had been pretty polite and kind.

you nod back at him, and a relieved look crosses his face.

both of you continue your walk all the way to esteban’s driver room, only stopping for a few times for other fans.

once he closes the door to his room, esteban takes off running and proceeds to sprawl himself on the length of the couch.

your nervousness dissipated in the privacy of the room, you leap towards the couch as well, laughing.

“este!” you giggle, sitting on his legs. “you’re taking up the whole couch! where am i going to sit comfortably?”

“well,” he drawls, smirking. “why don’t you sit on my…lap!”

you gasp, scandalized. “you did not just say that right now!” still, you scooch your body upwards, straddling his lap.

“not so shy, are you now?” he remarks, raising an eyebrow at you.

you swat at his sculpted chest jokingly, and bashfully look at him through your lashes.

he slowly sits up and leans towards you, pulling you into a soft kiss. he tastes like chapstick and a hint of cream puff that you knew he sneakily ate in the car when his trainer wasn’t looking.

you pull back, eyes mirroring esteban’s pretty black irises. if given the choice, you would probably spend all day looking at him, counting his light freckles.

before you have a chance to lean in again, his door suddenly swings open, revealing an embarrassed girl and shocked pierre. both of their clothes are visibility messed up and their hair a little in disarray. all of you stay still, frozen in surprise.

pierre is the first one to talk. “i am so sorry!” he apologies, arms out to emphasize his point. he quickly tries to smooth down his ruffled hair. “i did not mean to interrupt your…” he gestures to you on esteban’s lap, “make-out session!”

you feel your cheeks heat up, and you rapidly scramble off of esteban. your boyfriend straightens out his rumpled team kit, but not before shooting a glare at pierre, who is still standing in the doorway. “let’s not pretend that you were literally doing the same thing!” he shoots at him.

before the two alpine drivers escalate the situation from a glaring match to a full-blown fight, the girl that you assume to be pierre’s girlfriend, quickly pulls pierre out of the driver room and roughly shoves him aside, closing the door to a little crack. you hear a little bit of scuffling and a soft yelp from pierre from the other side before the girl pops her head back into the room. she smiles at you apologetically. “sorry about pierre,” she says, “i’m his girlfriend, by the way, nice to meet you. i hope we can meet again another time!”

you send her a timid wave goodbye before she closes the door completely behind her.

completely changing out of your shy personality after she closes the door, you whip back towards esteban, who is pretending to act innocent on the couch. you wag your finger at him. “no starting fights with pierre!” you reprimand, one hand perched on your hip.

he rolls his eyes, and hooks his freakishly long arms around your waist and pulls you back on his lap. from the slight smile on your face, he immediately knows he has broken your resolve.

esteban wiggles his eyebrows and rakes his eyes across your figure in front of him. “now, to finish what i started before pierre rudely interrupted…”

twenty minutes later, you both are interrupted again, but this time by an alarm on este’s phone. he groans as he has to pull away you in order to fetch his phone thats tucked underneath him in his back pocket. “ugh..” he grumbles, repeatedly spamming the ‘stop’ button on his phone. “i can’t have one moment of peace with my girlfriend…”

once the alarm disappears from his screen, he winds his arm back, about to toss his phone to the other side of the room when his eyes grow wide.

“what happened, baby?” you question, concerned.

“i think we were supposed to be in the garage like five minutes ago…” he discloses, scratching his head sheepishly.

you leap up in flash, pulling esteban off the plush couch with you. “ESTE!! why are we still there then???” you cry, scrambling to grab your bag and phone.

“it’s alright,” he laughs, grabbing your shoulders to make you stand still. “just hop on my shoulder and i’ll run over to the garage.”

you sigh exasperatedly before throwing your packed birkin onto the couch and shifting into your flying squirrel form. once you get a grasp on esteban with your special claws, you quickly scurry up his long legs, scrawny torso, and then sit on your favorite spot on his shoulder near the crook of his neck. you purposely bat your tail at his face a few times, as if to tell him to ‘hurry up and go’.

“hey!” he complains, softly pushing your tail away from his face. “i’m going now, jeez!”

the garage is bustling with activity, like expected, before the start of the belgium grand prix. vip guests line the back counter, reporters adjust their microphones, and engineers check and recheck their pre-race to-do lists. your boyfriend is able to take less than two steps in the garage when he is spotted by his furious race engineer, a man with short ginger hair and light freckled skin.

“esteban!! where the fuck were you?? get your fireproofs on right now. the race starts in half an hour!” he roars, gesturing wildly with a clipboard in his hand. with that, he turns away from your boyfriend and marches off towards a group of engineers that look stressed out of their minds.

“okay, no need to be pressed,” esteban mutters under his breath, “sue me for wanting to spend one second with my girlfriend.”

he lightly jogs over to the counter to start gathering his radio headphones and his balaclava when pierre claps one hand on the opposite shoulder you were standing on, scaring both you and esteban.

fully dressed in his fireproofs, suit, and balaclava, he grins at your boyfriend. “you have a squirrel, huh? i guess it makes sense since you’re built like a tree.”

that was definitely unprompted, you think, a tiny bit offended for esteban. quickly, you jump off of his shoulder, glide carefully onto the counter, and throw a stray screw at pierre’s head. it bounces off his forehead, and makes a clacking sound as tumbles onto the floor.

“ow!” pierre shrieks, clutching his forehead.

esteban cackles at your good throw. “serves you right, putain! besides, you can’t talk when you have a big ass forehead!”

pierre flips the both of you the middle finger before scampering away towards his side of the garage.

still chuckling softly, your boyfriend places a kiss on the top of your head before putting on his signature red helmet. with a few extra pets, he leaves you inside a headset cubby to go report back to his race engineer.

you settle back in the little space, away from the absolute chaos going on in the garage. suddenly, a little boy’s head pops into view in front of the cubby. he squeals in excitement, pointing to you.

“mommy!” he shrieks, jabbing his chubby little finger at you. “a squirrel! a squirrel! can i hold it?”

behind him, you can tell his fancily dressed mother isn’t paying attention. a vip lanyard hangs around her neck, swinging as she gestures excitedly in conversation with one of the alpine engineers. The young boy’s mother blushes, tucking a hair behind her ear as the engineer leans toward her to show a picture on her phone. yeah...she’s definitely not paying attention to her kid, you deduce.

the little boy, who was holding an engineer headset (how did he even get that?), quickly drops it on the ground, where it bounces on the ground with an unpromising crunch. he reaches inside your hiding space with his dirty hands, and snatches you out.

you squeal in horror as he squishes you in his tight grip, toddling across the garage toward his mother to show her the wondrous creature that he just captured. squeaks of alarm exit your mouth, but you aren’t sure if anyone can hear you over the overlapping talking of people and crackle of the tv. luckily, pierre spots you from his place next to the counter. your unlikely savior sprints towards esteban, grasps the back of his race suit with one hand, and tows him towards your direction with an panicked pointing.

esteban rushes over, yanking you out of the child’s grip.

“don’t do that!” he scolds the kid while holding you gently to his chest. you tremble a little bit.

the young kid looks up at your boyfriend with wide eyes, still processing why this man had approached him and yanked the squirrel that he found fair and square out of his hands. the little boy’s mother and the engineer rush over, now certainly paying attention. both women gape at esteban holding a squirrel gingerly in his hands.

the engineer stutters out, “shouldn’t you be going to parc ferme? the race is about to start!” she points to the tv, where you can see a zoom in of alex albon getting settled into his williams.

esteban nods, setting you into a higher cubby, and turns toward the little boy’s mother, who was now reprimanding her son for running off. “ma’am, please take a better watch of your son, and teach him not to handle other peop-” he pauses, correcting himself. “-animals that roughly!” before the woman can respond, he turns and marches off towards the parked cars on the track.

the race starts with no problem, with esteban starting off in P10. around lap 31, you hear a crackle beneath your cubby. you cautiously peek your head out towards the sound. the engineer headset on the ground crackles again, and you think you can hear esteban’s disoriented, tinny voice drift from the speakers inside the earpieces. you swiftly leap out of the cubby, using your “wing-like” flaps to sail towards the piece of technology on the ground. putting your sensitive ears close to the headphones, you confirm that it is esteban on the line once you hear his familiar voice through the broken static hum.

you use all your strength the drag the headphones towards a hidden corner in the garage, behind several tall cabinets. making sure there is enough space beforehand, you shift into your human self again. daintily, you pick up the headset from the ground and adjust the microphone to your mouth.

“esteban…” you whisper, “can you hear me?”

“wh-... the..-uck?...is tha-..ou, ….?” says the voice on the other line.

you giggle, hearing his voice all choppy over the broken headset. placing your lips directly in front of the microphone, you speak again in a hushed voice. “este, baby, if you get in points i’ll buy you the metallic red deadpool funko pop that i know you were eyeing the past month!”

you patiently wait for esteban to come back into the garage, body leaned against one of the counters lining the walls. his alpine rumbles as he stops the car in park ferme. from the tv, you can see him basically dashing to the fia officials to have himself weighed.

you hear his thundering footsteps towards the garage before you actually see him. a grin splits his face when he runs towards you and basically jumps into your arms. the engineers around the garage start clapping and whooping.

“P9, huh, este?” you whisper into his ear.

esteban leans back, looking at you. “that’s right!” he says eagerly. “you’re getting me that funko pop now, right?”

this man, you think, giggling to yourself. he gets points in an alpine, no less, and all he thinks about is getting a funko pop.

“of course,” you assure him. “matter of fact, i’ll even get you the limited edition glow in the dark wolverine one too.”

his face lights up even more as he beams at you.

the engineer from before approaches timidly towards the two of you. “sorry for bothering you guys, but the podium ceremony is starting. you should probably get there before we get fined, esteban.”

your boyfriend nods tersely, understanding his duties, and you gladly let him go.

the engineer smiles politely at you, not recognizing you as the flying squirrel from earlier.

“esteban’s girlfriend, i assume?”

“yes,” you say kindly, voice turning soft with shyness.

“well, it’s nice to meet you.” she remarks. then, she shifts her attention to something behind you. she brushes past you, brows wrinkling, and leans down to pick something up.

“what the heck is this broken alpine headset doing on the ground?”

a/n: sorry for the short unplanned hiatus.. school started up and i got a little busy. hope you enjoyed this one though :)

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 imagine #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon x y/n #esteban ocon x you #eo31 x reader #eo31 x y/n

146 notes · View notes

kenmjiro · 11 months

Text

ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ Scars and bad memories | Carl Grimes

Carl grimes (TWD) x Fem reader

TWS: angst, kissing, mention of child abuse

Carl was locked in his room throwing darts, he did this frequently since they let him out of the infirmary after losing his eye.

He was distant, he didn't talk to anyone except his father and Michonne occasionally, he didn't leave his room and that had me worried, I have come to see him every day, but he doesn't speak to me and barely looks at me

We had been together for 6 months before this happened, but I just don't know what will become of us anymore. It hurts me to see him like this, but I will continue fighting, because I love him and I will do everything possible to prove it.

With my legs trembling with nervousness I decided to go in, I wiped the sweat that was accumulating on my palms on my pants, I gathered my courage and pushed the door.

When I saw Carl with his back to me, he was throwing darts from the side where he had been shot, and there were no darts on the target, they had all hit the door and he seemed more and more frustrated and absent.

“What are you doing here again?” His voice sounded so cold and hard that for a moment I thought I had hit an ice barrier, and as soon as I could answer, a cruel lump of anguish had formed in my throat.

“I-I came to see little Judd.”

He didn't even look at me and continued throwing darts at him.

“She's in her room, so don't bother me.

That hurt me, but I'm not a weak girl and my duty is to help Carl, there's no time to get depressed.

“Talking to me like that won’t give you back your eye.” I knew that my comment would piss him off and I waited expecting the worst from him, that he would run me out of his room or yell at me, whatever he did to hurt me I didn't care, I needed to remove all that indifference that was consuming his feelings.

“You think I care? Go chase squirrels, you silly little girl.”

“No thanks, I already had lunch.” My sarcastic response seemed to bother him more and he began to throw the darts with more fury than before, but half of them hit the door and the rest fell to the ground.

“Do you remember when we met and I had a huge bow with me?”

“No." He cut me off abruptly, trying to silence me.

“You said it was impossible for a girl as short and skinny as me to have enough strength to shoot it, you made fun of me for days until she saw me shoot it.”

The memory seemed to have softened his bad mood; he stared vacantly at a spot on the wall and smiled imperceptibly.

“Yes, I still don't understand how you did it... You were tiny.” He gave a small, fleeting chuckle. "You still are."

Carl had spoken almost in a whisper, but since we were alone, that was enough for me. In the end he gave up throwing the darts and looked at the ground.

“I just needed my arms, correct posture...and an eye. “Carl turned around to look at me, he seemed angry, but at the same time I could see that I was getting to him.

“What are you getting at, y/n?”

“You don't need everything to shoot a bow, or a gun, or to throw darts, you just...you just have to have the way.

“Yeah? and when you lose an eye… what is the Y/n way?” Carl began to approach me in a threatening manner. " which ?!?"

“I can teach you.”

I raised my hand to caress his face, but he moved away from it as if my touch burned him.

“Oh yeah? Try it, see what you can do as a hunter.”

“First stand up straight, put one foot on the shooting line and the other behind.” With my hands I gently corrected his posture and pushed his leg so that it was aligned. “stand on your side and fix your target with your dominant eye.”

“You will say with the only eye I have left.”

His voice was bitter and sarcastic, but he was relenting.

“That's all you need, sheriff.”

I carefully took his throwing arm and told him to take it back to throw the dart, I left his side and he looked at me skeptical, but he threw, and it took him half a second to realize that he had hit right. the target. He hid his surprise and finally spoke to me without his tone of indifference and bitterness.

“Not bad hunter, now I understand how being so little you had better aim than dad.”

“You see, everything has its side... You just have to find it.”

He looked down so that his hair hid how heartbroken and sad he was, but he knew him better than I knew myself, he knew how he felt.

“And how do I find the side to this?”

She pointed to the side of his face where there was only a thick bandage.

I approached him calmly and hugged him, he didn't return the gesture, but his entire body was trembling.

“Why are you still looking for me?” His voice was barely a whisper full of pain. “I'm horrible, I can't force you to stay with me like this, please don't feel sorry for me and just leave.”

My heart hurt so much hearing his voice, so fragile, so vulnerable.

“I don't feel sorry, I love you. Please believe in me, we will get through this together, let me help you. ”

"You do not have to do it. “I’ll be fine alone… You don’t deserve to spend your life with a monster, full of scars and bad memories.”

My heart broke at his words, I separated from him and forced him to sit down on the bed in the room, it's time for me to show him my own scars, I calmly took off the blouse I was wearing and then the small tank top, leaving me only with a sports bra.

“Do you see this scar?” I said pointing to my stomach “When my uncle got drunk he was very violent, he tried to hit my mother, but she locked herself in her room and left me alone with him. "She was scared, and trying to escape I fell on a glass table... her blood must have scared him, because she left me lying there and walked away."

“and-I didn't-I had no idea…”

“and you see these marks here?” I took off the leather wrist guards I always wore. “A year before I found them I ran into a group of unpleasant people... Our leader made them angry and as punishment they handcuffed me and other kids to a fence and attracted the attention of some walkers so that our parents could see it, I I tore the skin on my wrists to free myself, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to pull. And do you see this ugly mark?” I brushed the hair off my shoulder and showed him a large asterisk-shaped scar. “I had a small accident with Daryl when we went out to look for Beth, a guy tried to shoot me at point-blank range, luckily Daryl was able to deflect the shot and it didn't hit me.” in the heart as was his plan.”

“...Why didn't you ever show me all this?”

“Because I'm horrible... How could I expect you to love someone who carried only scars and horrible memories?” Carl looked at me bewildered and looked away.

“It’s not the same Y/n.”

“Of course... we are both full of scars and these remind us that we were stronger than what tried to kill us, we are survivors and this is our life... and I want to share my scars and my bad memories with you and I want you to you do the same. Carl, I love you and I want to experience all the good that is left in the world with you.” Without realizing it, I had walked until I was in front of Carl and I knelt down so I could look him in the face, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking, “and don't think that you can decide for me, I want to be by your side... “Just… Unless you don’t love me anymore…”

He didn't let me finish and silenced my crying with a kiss. He knelt down next to me and kissed me passionately. His arms wrapped around me with strength and desperation. My cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. With his fingers he delicately caressed each one of my scars and I did the same.

“Of course I love you, forgive me for acting like an idiot, I…”

This time it was my turn to silence his lips, my entire body vibrated as the temperature rose, in desperation I lightly pulled his hair, wishing he would never leave me. When our lungs were begging for air we did not separate slightly, his lips were red and swollen from what had happened before, we both gasped to catch our breath.

“You know, it's very unfair that even with a scar like that you still manage to look so perfect.” Carl laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss my shoulder.

“Says the girl who, even with all her scars, looks like an angel.”

I blushed at his comment, it was always the same, he managed to take my breath away just with a phrase like that.

“Shut up and kiss me sheriff.”

“With pleasure, hunter. ”

The kisses continued just like the memories and the scars.

Even though we had both lost a part of ourselves and even though destiny had marked us, it no longer mattered to us, because being together we were finally complete.

#fanfic #oneshot #kenmijiro #carl grimes x you #carl grimes twd #twd carl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #twd x you #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending

277 notes · View notes