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wastelandlovingscenarios · 1 year ago

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undeniable | porter gage x female! sole survivor

a/n: am i finally back on my bullshit, uploading on a random sunday night? this is different from what i usually write, but hey! im definitely writing something. im too tired to revise or edit this bc its 12 AM, so ill look it over in the morning. just thought i'd post something silly.

♡ based off a modern au where gage and the sole survivor are childhood bestfriends in another life.

For as long as Gage can remember, she’s been a burden. Being nearly five years older than her and her guardian -- or her best friend, as she likes to call him -- he’s always felt inclined to watch over her. He doesn’t know why, he knows he doesn't necessarily need to, but the thought of abandoning her feels wrong. So he tries to find reasons as to why -- was it because they both grew up in terrible conditions together and only had each other? Or was it because he knew the moment he let her dumbass go into the real world alone, she’d somehow get herself killed?

He shakes his head. Finding a reason was nothing but a waste of time, his mind overworking itself more than it already was. He dumbs it down to simply getting used to the routine of caring for her since they were children. If he fucks up his schedule now, he’d have to go through the trouble of rearranging everything around once again and readjust to his new lifestyle.

‘Yeah,’ he thinks to himself, unlocking his apartment door, twisting the knob, ‘It’ll be nothing but fucking trouble.’

Once he pushes the door open, his boots thumping against the tiled floor of his apartment, he sees her sitting on the couch, distracted by the show playing on the television. His eyes darted over to the coffee table in front of her, papers and open textbooks strewn across the poor thing, obviously untouched and just displayed prettily to mimic the idea that she was being productive.

With a low grumble, he tosses his bag on the counter nearby and takes off his boots before grabbing the remote lying on the couch. She’s so invested in her little show that she barely even notices him walking in with a scowl and an annoyed sigh. Sole jumps when the television shuts off suddenly, a gasp leaving her lips before turning her head to the side.

“Hey, I was watching!” she whines, already rising from the couch to pick another fight with him. He doesn’t show any reaction and instead, crosses his arms with an unimpressed expression while he holds the remote hostage.

She tries her best to grab it from his hand but he rolls his eyes, gently pushing her back down onto the couch.

“Quit watchin’ and start studyin’. Yer not gonna get shit done like this.”

She huffs angrily, her eyes narrowing at him, “Gage, a little break wouldn’t hurt every once in a while.”

“And what have you accomplished since I left for work this afternoon?”

Sole swallows nervously, her mouth going dry at his questions as she opens and closes it, trying her best to stand her ground. He raises a brow, giving her a chance to respond and redeem herself, but he already knows. She was a fool for thinking she could get away with such a lie, knowing that Gage knew her better than anyone else.

“Thought so,” he stuffed the remote in the back of his pocket, “Now be a good girl and finish yer damn work. I’m not paying yer tuition for you to fuck around.”

Sole groans but listens obediently, pulling the coffee table closer to her. She grabs her laptop and unlocks it, opening her notes before reaching over to snatch one of her textbooks.

“I don’t understand why you’re on my ass about my studies so much, Gage,” she complains, highlighting something in her book a bit roughly, “You didn't even finish high school, so why does it even matter?”

He doesn’t spare her much of an answer, walking over to the kitchen to find something to cook for them, “Exactly my point. You wanna be better than me.”

“But you make so much money, you’re able to provide for both of us!” she throws her hands in the air, desperately trying to prove a point to her stubborn roommate, who seemed to be firm on his words.

“That’s only because I got connections. Now shut your mouth and study.”

He doesn’t find much in the fridge nor the cabinets, silently setting a reminder in his mind to do a grocery run first thing tomorrow before work. Eventually, he decides to heat up some leftovers they had for lunch and cut up some fruit for her to snack on while she did her work. It’s shit, he knows, but it’ll do till tomorrow.

He makes his way back to the living room, plopping on the couch next to her and setting the food on the coffee table, maintaining a good distance between their dinner and her work. The last thing he wanted was to spill anything on her laptop and notes -- it would only give her another reason not to be productive.

He doesn’t say much, but his eyes flicker over to her for a moment, a small smile on his face at the sight of her seemingly focused on her work now, a sense of satisfaction overcoming him. Gage leans back on the couch, pulling his phone out to distract himself while he kept her company in the living room. He takes a few bites of his portion of the leftovers, glancing at Sole here and there to ensure she was still on track.

It’s a peaceful few minutes, he can’t recall how long, as they both sit in silence, her music playing softly in the background to fill up the white noise. Suddenly, he hears a sigh, sounding a bit defeated, and his eyes set on her sulking figure.

“Gage, I know that you want the best for me, but I’m nearly twenty-three and you still treat me like a kid.” he stares at her, not showing any reaction but notices how she refused to make eye contact with him, her eyes glued to the screen of her laptop.

When she doesn’t get a response, she closes her eyes before turning her body towards him, her expression serious, but he can see right through her. She’s pleading, but not in an annoying bratty way like she usually does, so he decides to listen to her troubles.

She scoots closer to him and he watches, his phone long forgotten in his hand, “I’m really grateful for you and all that, but you need to trust that I can do well in school and balance my time. You can’t take care of me forever.”

Instead of getting a response like she’d hope for, she was met with the usual silence he often provided her when she tried to set her boundaries. With an irate expression, she turned back to her laptop, her face flushed in embarrassment, feeling like her words vanished into thin air.

She should’ve known better than to talk to Gage — he was a man of few words and she didn’t know why she expected him to at least say something to show that he at least cared about her feelings one way or the other.

Before she could continue studying to hide her embarrassment and anger, she hears his voice and freezes.

“I know.” his voice is gravelly, a bit of exhaustion mixed into it, and her head shoots to him, a bit stunned at his broken silence. Her eyes are wide, body paralyzed at the sudden response. There’s a slight flush on his face but she convinces herself it’s the lighting.

Definitely.

He knows she’s waiting for more than just that and he sighs, crossing his arms as he makes eye contact with her the best he can without losing his shit, “Just want you to have a good future. Want you to live a better life than what I’m giving you right now before I send you off.”

Suddenly, she’s overcome with guilt and she immediately leans over to him, her hands finding his as she cuts him off, “No, that’s not what I meant!”

With another breath, she composes herself before speaking.

“Gage, you’ve given me everything I’ve wanted and needed, the last thing I’ll ever do is criticize your care for me. I don’t plan on leaving your side, even when I get a better life.”

His heart twinges and his feelings for her resurface, but he pushes it down.

She pulls on the sleeves of his hoodie, playing with the fabric with her fingers, “I just want you to trust me more. I know I’ve been slacking a bit, but I’d never fail school, especially when I know you’re working hard to provide for both of us and paying for my tuition. I’d never do that to you.”

“Wouldn’t say I’m working hard,” he downplays it, not wanting her to fret about such a miniscule matter.

She groans, “You work twelve hour shifts everyday. Sometimes fourteen!”

He shrugs nonchalantly and Sole pouts at his stubbornness, smacking his arm with annoyance. Gage bites back a smirk, amused by her behavior and catches her wrist midair, her eyes rolling. Instead of providing her with a response, he digs in his pocket and hands her the remote to the TV and her eyes light up, a smile forming on her pretty face. His heart aches at the sight. It was such a small action but it was more than enough to validate her feelings.

“Thank you, you’re the best!” she jumped over, throwing her arms around his neck as she embraced him tightly.

His face flushed heavily and tried to seem annoyed to cover it up but the stutter in his voice and the tenseness of his shoulders gave it away. Gage pushed her away with his hand as he groaned quietly, “I get it, don’t need to be so damn happy about it.”

However, she pecked his cheek and he froze instantly, his body paralyzed and his voice raising in embarrassment, “Q-Quit it!”

She giggles and doesn’t take much offense to his words, knowing that he was nothing but a big softie for her. As she released him, she smiled at him happily once more before turning to the TV and putting her show back on.

Gage rubbed the spot where she kissed, his face a deep red as he tried to regain his composure. Suddenly, he pushes down the real reason of why he refused to leave her side for the millionth time, reminding himself that there were several other possibilities other than that.

‘What a damn burden,’ he thinks to himself, desperately trying to fight back his feelings for her, his eyes glued to her gleeful form next to him.

Suddenly, her kiss lingered on his skin a little too long, the feeling of her arms around him marking his skin, and he’s left absolutely horrified, realizing that he could no longer convince himself otherwise.

Maybe accepting it was better than constantly running and Gage thinks it over for a moment but ultimately shakes his head, wanting to do anything but that.

‘Just a stupid thought. Some stupid fucking feelings,’ he settles for that answer but knows deep down that he’s already lost the battle, his heart hammering in his chest.

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htchnr · 1 year ago

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ミ★ stupid sweet spot ꜜ PORTER GAGE.

𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a coffee!

「 ꜜsummary,, he doesn't know when he got this soft and sappy, maybe it all started with the nightmares, maybe it's the shared trauma from an old raider gang the two of you happened to be in together years and years ago. he'll never know. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, fem! ex raider! sole survivor x Gage ⋆ slight OOC Gage ⋆ nightmares ⋆ mention of a knife. ꜜwc,, 0,6k. 」

you gasp, shooting upright from the hard mattress under you. your chest raising and falling rapidly, your eyes dart across the room in a panic. tears pour from your eyes as you clasp a hand across your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sobs coming from you.

a large rough hand finds it's way to your lower back, and you practically jump from the contact. your hand shoots towards your pillow, aiming for the knife you keep under there. but a second, similar hand grabs your wrist. "hey it's me, it's okay." a deep raspy voice sounds from beside you, pulling you out of your drowning thoughts.

your blurry eyes meet Gage's, and you can see the ache in them. "doll face it's okay, i promise you." he assures you, holding your face between his large hands. his eyes are locked onto yours, his face painfully softened and has an almost hurt look in his eyes. he hates to see you like this; distressed and disoriented from the nightmares which have become frequent.

your lips part, and Gage can see something break in your eyes. "Gage..." you croak out, your voice barely able to speak.

"it's alright. i'm here, i'm right here with you." his thumbs stroke reassuring circles onto your cheekbones.

you let out a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. he raises one of his hands up to the back of your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as he holds you. you and Gage stay like that for a while, until he's sure you're grounded.

he doesn't know when he got this soft and sappy, maybe it all started with the nightmares, maybe it's the shared trauma from an old raider gang the two of you happened to be in together years and years ago. he'll never know.

he places a firm kiss to your head and leans back against the shitty pillows, holding you firmly against his chest. as your breathing slows, Gage knows that your close to falling asleep again. he raises the blanket around you, tucking it in around your neck. you nuzzle closer to Gage, your hand fisting his ribbed tanktop. he rests his head atop yours and closes his eyes.

"i think i love you.." you mutter, just before falling asleep, firmly held in his arms.

Gage lips quirk up sleepily. "i know doll, i know."

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mee30p · 1 month ago

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Awkward run in

Okay i had this vision of you and Daryl sneaking off somewhere in the prison to fuck and you both run into someone else on the way back

Warnings: Hair grabbing? Sucking off daryl, face fucking, awkwardness, and getting caught sorta?

Daryl x female reader

Word count: idk I didn’t count this time but it’s mega short #writers block

Links page for more Fics

"we're gonna get caught Daryl" You say with a small giggle as the hunter drags you off towards a seemingly hidden spot in the prison. The poor man had been hanging out all day for you, he'd tried sneaking off with you earlier in the day but Rick needed him for something so it left him half chubbed in his pants and thinking about you on your knees for him the rest of the afternoon. The man couldn't wait any longer, sure he checked no one was going to come but at the end of the day he didn't care anymore.

"don't give a shit" He grunts as Daryl grabs your face and smashes his lips into yours roughly and hungrily like he's a man starving. You whine loudly as he grabs your hair and tugs it pulling you deeper into the kiss. Daryl fumbles with your belt with his right hand before pulling open your belt then jeans. He slips his thick rough finger between your folds and he groans at how wet you are already "shit woman so wet already" He groans in an almost animalistic manner as he opens you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet and desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you because ever since lunch time when you two were supposed to sneak off you've been thinking about his dick all afternoon.

You let out a loud and shrill moan as he curls his fingers slowly, teasingly as the calloused pads of his thumb drags over your clit. He kisses along your neck then back up to your jaw then lips again. You can feel the familiar knot in your stomach forming embarrassingly early as you clench around his fingers - but you've been on edge all day, practically soaking wet all day waiting for him to make you cum. "Fuckk.. Daryl.. Daryl" You repeat his name like a chant and he groans in response but theres a teasing grin on his face as he kisses you again.

You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out with a pop and you look at him with an annoyed pout. "Daryl" You beg as she grab his hand trying to bring it back to your aching wet pussy but he responds by pushing you down until you're on your knees. Daryl swiftly undoes his belt and frees his pulsing cock it slaps against his stomach as it springs loose, precum dripping from its tip you lick your lips. Daryl grabs the shaft of his dick and rubs it against your lips you press a few tentative and teasing kisses to his tip. "Stop fuckin teasin woman" He growls and you've never heard anything hotter than the growl in his voice when you tease him. you open your mouth and take his whole length until the head of his cock touches the back of your throat. Daryl grabs the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with your hair as he pushes your head down into his cock. He starts slow with just his hand moving your head as you make a few gaging noises which is enough for him to groan. Daryl’s hips buck as he fucks your face basically using you as a human fuck toy. “Mmmfh” you whine as you clench your thighs together and rock desperately trying to create friction. “Uh uh Girlie” Daryl chides as he nudges your legs with his boot to which you oblige in hope he’ll return the favour.

Just as you feel Daryl’s cock twitch in your mouth signalling his close release you hear a sound. It sounds like a door creaking open from the hallway. Daryl is too busy cumming down your throat to hear the noise and he pulls out of your mouth with a groan. “Fuck woman you are a dick suckin pro” he can be so crass but you love him for it. There it is again the noise of the door shutting “fuck” You both whisper in unison, you buckle your belt quickly and Daryl follows suit.

“Fuck sake… who the fuck is out an about” Daryl grumbles as he holds the door open for you and you both step out into the hallway. You make it only about 10 steps before you both freeze as you come face to face with Maggie and Glenn. The four of you freeze in your tracts, you all know what you’ve been up to. It’s obvious Glenn and Maggie look just as disheveled and flustered as Daryl and you. Maggie looks mortified and Glenn seems as if he’s praying for the world to swallow him whole. You let out a strangled squeak of surprise before fixing your hair into a neater ponytail. “Uhhhh..” Glenn says rubbing the back of his neck not knowing what to say because well what do you say in this situation?

“This didn’t happen” you say as you shoot the couple a warning stare before grabbing Daryl and walking off briskly.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x oc #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #smut #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon

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simp-ly-writes · 3 months ago

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The Prophecy

��────── · · Dreams of Dragons (pt.2)

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

SUMMARY: Knee-deep in growing family tensions, you continue searching for the answers to your 'sleepwalking condition.' And in this search, you find yourself learning more about your ancestors, an uncle obsessed with his eldest niece, a king who struggles to be a father, and a young princess determined to invoke change.

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, emotional hurt/comfort, protective!Daemon, angst, soulmates, time travel, targ-cest, engine-translated high valyrian, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,257 | PRIOR | NEXT A/N: thank you all for the support on the first part, I hope you enjoy this next part! (I also used a translator for the high valyrian- so apologies for any inaccuracies).

─────── · ·

A DOZEN HUSHED WHISPERS SOUND FROM AROUND YOU YET YOU REMAIN FROZEN. You force your eyes closed- pretending to be asleep to try and focus on the words being spoken, "not ill... no symptoms... magic, sorcery..." you frown, I am most certainly ill if I am experiencing this, you think to yourself in yet another one of your dreams.

"...dreamer?" a whisperer asks before another confirms, "a dreamer, a seer, but how?- it has been decades..." And suddenly a frustrated whisper silences the room as you feel the bed dip by your knees, a hand picks up your own and holds it gently. "Mandia (older sister), do you hear me? Show me a sign that you are still with me like you promised me so," Rhaenyra calls out to you, head dipping to closely watch your face for any reaction- she gasps seeing your eyes fly open as you stare at the top of your canopy bed.

"Where am I? When is this?" your voice horse as you rub your eyes- thankful that your parents taught you the dying language of high valyrian back in your times.

"You are in the Red Keep and it is the year 104, your highness," a maester calls from the corner of the chamber, head dipping once meeting your gaze as yours soon widens at the sight of a much younger Princess Rhaenyra who sits by your side, she signals for a pitcher of water to be brought forward whist stacking a few pillows behind your back- helping you to sit upright before tiping the cup slowly against your lips.

You bring your hands forward, trying to take the cup from her yet her grip is strong for her small hands, "please, let me help you get better." And you can't help but comply in seeing her violet eyes turn a light shade of blue.

Setting the cup back down, Rhaenyra takes both of your hands in hers, placing them on her cheeks that silent tears stream down steadily. "Why must everyone be so sick? First you and then mother, is just not fair!" her head falls forwards and into your lap, "its just not fair..." her sorrows muffled into the bedding and as if on muscle memory you bring a hand to her head, threading your fingers gently through the knots and hum gently, unsure of how to answer her pleas.

You look up seeing as the maesters around you shuffle awkwardly, "you all are dismissed," your head tilting back in surprise for your own commanding tone watching as they hesitate for a moment before beginning to file out of the room, shutting the door softly behind themselves.

Rhaenyra's sniffles slowly fade as she looks up at you, "Kepus (uncle) was so worried for you, he always is and so was father... yet he was more worried that his brother would scare the maesters to death before they could treat you." She watches your eyes, trying to gage your reaction before you speak it, your heart aches seeing how earnestly she awaits your words- like they would soothe every ache in her mind.

"Kepus always needs a busy mind, Rhaenyra, worrying is just another distraction for he grows bored easily," you recite from one of the many records you read on the Rogue Prince while in school.

You watch as your supposed sister frowns at your words, eyebrows pinched together, "Don't let him hear you say that, Mandia, he may get offended." You snort before leaning in closer and whisper, "he is quick to offend." You laugh at Rhaenyra's short gasp before she giggles and shakes her head, pushing your face away.

"Is that laughter I hear? What are you two up to now?" a new voice calls from the doorframe that has you both freezing in your spot. Rhaenyra sits quickly upright as you force yourself not to bow at the sight of King Viserys, your supposed father. Gosh I need to wake up soon, you think to yourself.

"As you were," the King raises his hand, moving to stand at the foot of your bed. Hands gripping the footrest for support as he smiles down at you both, "you seem well," he acknowledges with a soft smile, "what did the Maesters do this time?" Viserys looks towards his youngest daughter expectantly who watched your whole procedure closely, she basks in her fathers attention.

"They used the same ointments as the last time but she woke up on her own again," Rhaenyra explains, quickly side eyeing you to agree in which you slowly nod, curious as to why she was not telling the full truth from what you briefly heard.

Viserys hums to himself while looking between you both before sighing and standing up straight, fixing the coat he wears like an anxious tick, "I'm sure your mother would be in better spirits if you both gave her a visit now that you are awake."

Rhaenyra jumps up, hand extending to help you up, frowning when you don't budge, "I am in my sleeping clothes, sister," you explain, "let me get dressed and then I shall meet you in the hall," you compromise and then you are finally alone.

Falling back onto the covers you bite your lip before looking out to your balcony, the doors are slightly open, a warm breeze drifts in carrying the sheer curtains with it that wave to you in greeting like the world is teasing you, withholding the very answers you desire so you curse the air, standing and heading towards your wardrobe. Let's hope those historical fashion classes were worth the money.

─────── · ·

You were out of breath by the time you were finished lacing up your garments, no wonder they needed a second army to get ready, you scoff before starting to twist the door handle and become startled as it seemingly twists itself in your hand and flys wide open.

Hands find your hips that pull you close to a broad frame draped in black robes, a silver dragon rides across their chest- its head framing their shoulder. Next you feel as their forehead knocks against your own, their breaths hot and heavy against your nose that you crinkle in confusion before seeing the light scaring on pale skin and a flash of silver hair reflecting in the sunlight, Daemon.

"I thought you had died when I saw the maesters dart out of the room," his whisper is like sandpaper to your ears, coarse and rough from unshed emotion, "like they were running from their fate by my hand." You hesitate on how to respond, unlike when Rhaenyra looked for your comfort- you didn't know what to do with your uncle so you mirrored his hold with your hands slowly moving to circle his hips- pulling yourselves closer together and in for a hug.

His arms are like a weighted blanket around your frame, you can feel his long stuttering sigh in relief as every muscle relaxes knowing you are in his arms. You flush, feeling flattered before rubbing circles with your palm against his back and wait for him to pull away yet he squeezes you closer, resting his chip to the top of your head, you feel as his fingers play with a loose thread of your dress, curling it around his finger before letting it fall.

Footsteps soon echo from down the hall, you try to shuffle away yet Daemon continues to hold you, squeezing his eyes shut to savour the moment as long as he can before the footsteps near and he pulls away and leaves a lingering palm that rests against your lower back.

A young guard stops before you both, his eyes sneak a glance at you before casting forwards, looking to an invisible point on the wall between your heads. Your uncle catches the stolen glance with a scowl, his hand rests upon the hilt of dark sister as he takes a step forwards, mouth opening to make a comment before you silence him with a smile and touch to his arm, a sudden rush of confidence clouding your better judgement.

His head tilts back, eyes in a silent demand to let me do this, for you, yet you shake your head firmly to vanquish his actions, "do you have a message?" The guards eyes go wide in remembrance, "y-yes, your highnesses. One reminder for the princess from the Queen. She requests your immediate presence in her drawing room."

You raise your hand, dismissing the guard while not meeting Daemon's accusatory stare, "he should be taught a lesson for his actions."

You feel the air shift in the corridor as he takes a confrontational step forwards- trying to sway your answer yet your feet remain planted in spot- not meeting his eyes that try and connect with your own, "what if I said I didn't mind his eyes, Kepus?" You drag out the title- choosing then to raise your chin, clashing violet with violet. You smirk upon seeing his nose flair- eyes sharpening to slits.

"Iksā daor olvie funny, Qēlītsos, (you are not very funny, little star)," his words are spoken in a cold charismatic poise, a double-edge sword of playful commentary and threat that has your adrenaline spiking with a desire to drink in more of his bubbling rage that warms you from within.

"Gaoman daor pirtiapos, nyke nūmāzma ñuha udra, (I do not joke, I mean my words)," you speak with determination and take a half step forwards, placing your hands behind your back as you lean forwards, enunciating every word, drinking in every minute reaction his chiselled features provide you, a seemingly endless entertainment as you stand toe-to-toe.

Daemon growls, his head tilts, peering down at your amusement that irks him beyond belief, "Yn ao sōpagon rȳ issa protection? (but you laugh at my protection?)."

Your smile softens to something bittersweet as you know the fate for this body like all the other women of your current position throughout history; having to face the looks in order to gain a marriage for the betterment of the throne, "sir gaoman yn issa ñuha future se konir sagon mirros ao daor keligon, (now I do but it is my future and that is something you cannot stop)."

"ao doubt ñuha kostion? (you doubt my ability?)," Daemon confidently poses his shoulders back and tone teasing. Accepting yet another challenge to keep himself amused with, you think to yourself with a shake to your head, "daor, Kepus, nyke sepār daor skorkydoso ra mōris, (no, uncle, I just know how things end)."

You gently knock your arm into his own as you pass him in the narrow corridor. Daemon does not answer nor move, brows furrowed as he contemplates your words. He turns and opens his mouth to speak only to find you already gone.

─────── · ·

After a few wrong turns and directions from servants and guards alike, you arrive in the Queen's drawing room where your sister sits opposite of your mother. A set of tea is set at the centre of the table, an assortment of fruit displayed in a bowl just beside as you take your seat, a servant rushes forwards to fill you a cup in which you politely take with a soft thank you for their service.

"It is good to see you alive and well, dear," Queen Aemma Arryn smiles at you, yet her eyes are filled with hurt, raising her cup to chime against your own, and it is then when you realize the Queen is pregnant.

"I am...." you pause before remembering you are not who you are in this body, "...glad to be back, I have missed you both without knowing I was in the first place." And then a knowing smile raises the corners of Rhaenyra's lips.

"You took some time to get here, sister... was there anyone-" she clears her throat, "anything that kept your attention?" You shoot your sister a glare that has her smile turning into a grin, troublemaker, you shake your head, cheeks warming. Aemma leans forwards, grabbing a grape while looking between the two of you expectantly.

"I sense a silent conversation that I don't understand the language to, do let me be a part of the talk," your mother chimes in. You and Rhaenyra share a look, go on, her eyes say and you sigh, finishing your cup of tea before placing it on the table and smoothing out your skirts.

"Kepus kept me from coming right away, I apologize," you state, pleased now? Rhaenyra nods enthusiastically, looking for the Queen's reaction that looks nothing but pleased as she looks you over.

"He cares for you more than his own lady wife, I think your uncle needs a reminder of his position- don't you think so, dear?" the once affectionate term now sounds like an insult as you swallow deeply and lower your head, a pain shoots through your chest that you choose to silence, "yes, mother-"

Yet Rhaenyra chimes in before you can finish your sentence, setting down her empty cup, "but he has always cared long since before I could remember, he is only trying to be a good uncle, why-"

"You have not matured enough to see my reasoning, Rhaenyra," Amma shuts down your sister, "what he thinks to be protection borders on obsession, it is not a good look for either of them."

Rhaenyra looks towards you yet you solemnly nod, agreeing with your mothers words. She appears more saddened by the words than you do, "but wouldn't Kepus get even more mad?"

"He can get mad all he wants sister but there is little he can do," you refill everyone's cups with a heavy sigh, "there is little any of us can do." You look towards your mother and down towards her stomach, a sickening feeling sits deep within you already knowing their fate.

But your words seem to spark something in the young girl as she stands, tipping her head down to you both as she moves to exit yet stops just before the doors, "then I will do something about it."

But seeing as one door closes, another opens as King Viserys walks over and grabs the Queen's hand, sharing a look before they both regard you, "with my new heir on the way, you must marry to ensure an alliance to strengthen the throne," Viserys says to you not from a position of your father, but as your king and so you bow your head, "I understand, father."

While in reality you did not, in all your studies you never read anywhere of a second princess, an older one nonetheless... your look of contemplation your parents take as devotion, smiling down upon your determined self.

"May you find a good husband," your mother wishes, placing her hand atop your fathers. "For the betterment of the seven kingdoms," your father adds, extending his other hand for you to grab and hold, "for the betterment of the seven kingdoms," you echo, squeezing his hand, "I will do my best," you promise equally yourself to finding answers and to your father.

─────── · ·

Night falls upon the castle as you walk the halls, studying the various tapestries hung underneath candlelight, no matter so little survived, you think to yourself before pausing in front of one detailing Aegon the Conqueror's invasion of Westeros that spans the entire length of the dining hall.

The vividness of the full spanning narrative is breathtaking from the little remnants you remember viewing in the museums of your time, you feel blessed by the gods in being able to see the real work so closely and without damage. Your hand gently taps one of the tassels at the corner of the work, watching as it swings before taking a step back and into someone.

You quickly try and turn around, apologizing for your lack of sense yet their arms wrap around your front, a chin rests upon your shoulder, "Aegon the first had two sister-wives as he was taking over Westeros." You place your hands atop of Daemons, "yet they were not treated equally," you counter, trying to pull his arm away yet they remain locked in place, "I am not some doll, Uncle Daemon, I am allowed to move on my own terms-"

"Then move," he deadpans, watching as you move your head to look up at him, "I am trying to," you growl, twisting and turning with a huff.

"You must try harder, fight, Zaldrītsos (little dragon), I promise you won't hurt me-" you force your elbow straight in between his ribs, winding your uncle as he staggers backwards. You dart forwards, grabbing the swords from one of the guards hips, your arms shake at the weight of the steel that you point at his heart with a scowl as he claps slowly at your outburst.

"So you can protect yourself... but you still will need for me," he quickly unsheathes dark sister, tipping the top of your sword that bends your wrist and forces you to yield. He kicks your sword back towards the guard, you listen as it screeches against the stone floors before stopping and all that is to be heard are your heavy breaths and the flickering of flames coming from the dozens of torches within the hall.

“Skoro syt gaomagon ao worry sīr olviem kepus? (why do you worry so much, uncle?),” you whisper, eyes trailing up from his boots till your meet eyes. You see as he hesitates to respond, teeth gritted in an internal battle, his words are spoken with careful precision as the back of his hand caresses your cheek before he kisses the top of your head, “Kesrio syt iksā se mērī run nyke refuse naejot ojughagon, (because you are the only thing I refuse to lose).”

You watch as he quickly drops his touch as if you burned him, pain shoots through his eyes before he turns and storms out the room leaving you under the watchful eyes of Aemond the Conqueror once more. If the Rogue Prince cared so deeply for this Princess… then why was she not kept on any records, you think to yourself, turning back to the tapestries and watching as Dragons fly high over the burning rubble of cities below and the mangled corpses of hundreds of thousands that lay in the foreground only to end with the missing image of your time; a still of Aemond being crowned in front of his men and wives.

His stitched eyes bore into your own, the flickering light of the flames makes his appearance appear animated before you, his mouth moving to read the faint inscription that circles his head, The Song of Ice and Fire, the prophecy you had read and seen played out before you in textbooks but the next words were new and uncharted, is the equal dream and fate I see across conquered lands. Silver must sit upon swords by the guidence of another conqueror- a dreamer, or all shall eternally sleep.

Your head spins at this information, a voice calls to you, their presence close yet you feel so far. Your feet waver as you reach forwards to stabilize yourself, unknowingly grasping the tapestry and pulling it down alongside you towards the floor. A sudden heat rushes across your skin, a torch must have fallen as you smell the smoke and feel the flames surrounding you as shouts echo through the hall yet you do not scream in pain, allowing the fire to encapsulate you as sleep closely follows.

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PRIOR | NEXT

A/N: I would be passin' out too if I read that, all we wanted to do was look at cool old stuff! lol

─ · · DREAMS OF DRAGONS TAGLIST: @blkmystery @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

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w0rmss · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do Bruce Wayne x young adult reader eho kinda took up a job for him as a maid but ended up getting closer and well… yk.. it’s smut so go wild (female)

Thank you so much for the request sorry it took me so damn long. Feel free to request more

Tw smut power imbalance age gap rough use of baby girl and good girl oral (m) also i do not condone these kinds of relationships in real life if you are not safe in one of these situations please get out or report if safe to do so. But as this is fiction, please carry on with that in mind. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Enjoy

Everything started of perfectly. You just needed a job to pay for college and when you seen an ad for a live in maid you jumped at the opportunity. A place to stay and get paid it was perfect.

When you found out that your boss was the Bruce Wayne only added to that perfectness. So you spent your days cleaning the manor and going to school it was perfect. Your bedroom was bigger than an apartment with a couch tv and bathroom nearly as big. You had free access to the library and living room. Alfred, the butler, would let you use the kitchen too if you cleaned up altered yourself. It was perfect and pretty easy, just some light dusting and vacuuming, which Alfred often helped with. The one thing you didn't have to clean was the big grandfather clock in the hall, which you found strange until Bruce explained it was he's parents and Alfred took it upon himself to keep it perfect.

You can't remember when your relationship with Bruce had become more than boss and employee. Was it the day you were oggling him at the pool or the day he was oggling you. The time he walked in on you changing by accident or possibly the time you accidently caught him masturbing in his study one morning. You have no idea.

But now here you were bent over his desk with his cock buried deep inside you and he slammed into you like a mad man. This was not the first time Bruce had fucked you and you hope it's not the last. You let out a moan, and he hits the perfect spot just right with the tip of his throbbing member.

"Oh fuck Bruce I'm.. shit.. I'm so close." You mange to pant out causing the older man being you to grunt and speed up. Before you know it, you're a shaking moaning mess coming on his dick like a faucet. Gently Bruce pulls out helping you to your knees in front of him as he leans back in his desk chair. "You did so well baby girl." He hum his voice slightly raspy as he brushes hair from your face. "But you're not done yet." He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you to his still hard cock. Without a second thought, you open your mouth.

Bruce lets out a groan as you finally manage to take his whole member into your mouth. His hand grasps your hair, shoving you down a tiny bit further. "Good girl. Doing so well. Fuck your mouth feels so good." The man groans and before long and without much movement his coming down your throat. You come up gaging and coughing as Bruce tries to come down from his high. Once you've regained the ability to breathe, you turn back to him. "Look at the mess you've made." He gestures to the spit and cum on his dick and tights. "I expect that cleaned up, you know. It is your job." You cheeks fulls and you move closer to him once again. "Yes, sir." His hand falls to your hair once again. "Good girl."

Hope you enjoyed

Dont know what came over me writing this opps anyway

Feel free to like repost reply and request everything is so appreciated

Stay safe

Have a wonderful day night afternoon etc

#fanfic #reqs open #dc x reader #dc smut #request #bruce wayne #x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader #batman #batman smut #W0rmss

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avoxrising · 2 years ago

Text

The Feral One - Prologue

I had an idea for a mini Finnick x reader Tumblr series so I wrote a short prologue to gage y’all’s interest. Lmk if y’all want to see more!

“I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the games,” Haymitch states as the District 12 team sits down to eat.

“Last year was child’s play,” Haymitch continues. “This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“All right. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“That means you’re gonna have to have some allies,” he replies.

Peeta starts, “ok I think that if we…”

“Whoop,” Haymitch interrupts. “You’re not the problem.”

“No,” Katniss states as she stares at the pair, seemingly upset that they even suggested allies.

“Look,” Haymitch sighs. “You’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.”

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss states.

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch tells her. “But I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is going to be to hunt you down. Both of you.”

“Katniss come on,” Peeta sighs.

“How could any of us even trust each other?” she asks.

“It’s not about trust,” Haymitch responds. “It’s about staying alive.”

After the group eats they move to the lounge to watch the recap of the reapings. Haymitch proceeds to give his tributes a rundown of their competition.

“Cashmere and Gloss,” Haymitch states. “Brother and sister, District 1. They won back to back games, capital favorites, lots of sponsors. They will be lethal.”

He clicks to the next clip. “And the other half of the career pack, Brutus and Enobaria.”

“What’s with her teeth?” Katniss asks, noticing the abnormally sharp teeth in her mouth.

“She had them filed into fangs so she could rip peoples throats out,” Haymitch explains.

“She’s committed, I’ll give her that,” Peeta declares. Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

“Wiress and Beetee,” he states. “Not fighters, but brilliant and weird, real tech savvy. He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once.” The tributes absorb this information as Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

He moves onto the next clip and Katniss speaks out. “Finnick Odair right?”

“Yes, he won his games at 14, youngest, ever, extremely humble,” Haymitch replies.

“You’re kidding,” Katniss gapes.

“Yes, I’m kidding,” Haymitch sighs. “He’s a peacock, a total preener. But he’s the capital’s darling, and they love him here; charming, smart, and very skilled at combat, especially in water.”

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta ask and Haymitch skips back to the escort calling out the female tribute’s name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Haymitch states. “Known in the capital as ‘the feral one’, winner of the 69th games”.

Katniss and Peeta shrink deeper into the couch.

“Isn’t she, um, a serial killer?” Peeta stutters.

“Well technically most of the victors are,” Haymitch responds. “But yes, she has killed outside of the games. She’s a deeply misunderstood creature.”

“Why is she Finnick’s weakness?” Katniss asks.

“She was Finnick’s first victor that he mentored,” Haymitch explains. “It’s hard not to get attached to the ones you bring home, especially your first. However, those two are a bit more complicated. I’d says it’s probably more of a… situationship… than an actual relationship but if you mess with either of them I can assure you that you’ll be dead pretty quickly.”

“So we should avoid them,” Peeta states, taking a mental note of Haymitch’s explanation.

“No,” Haymitch states, confusing his tributes. “The best move is to ally with them. They’re your biggest competition in the arena besides the careers, but they’re arguably more reliable and you don’t want to get on her bad side. They call her feral for a reason.”

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #catching fire

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can-ya-guess-my-curent-obsession · 7 months ago

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heya...!!! Sweetypie, if you don't mind could you please do a headcannon for Murdoc and 2D with s/o Those who have a special motherly attitude towards children, I also want to know how they will react when they have children. And their kids love to help. You can ignore this request, if you feel uncomfortable . Love you and your blog ❤️❤️🌹

Murdoc and 2D with a GN! S/O who is motherly children + their recation to having kids + Helpful kids.(I gave up on the rainbow letering)

WRITERS NOTES: Hi I don't really have much to say this time around, exept sorry anon for taking so long, and sorry to every body else who has requested. But thank you for the love, I'm glad you enjoyed my works.

side note: And I know motherly implies female or fem S/O, but gender was never spisificly spesified in the reqeasts and in mt opion men and non gender conforming people can be motherly or maternal, and I just like doing GN! more unless it's key to the hc's themselves, so I'll be doing GN! with this.

[Another note: If you've seen my post before this, you know I'm debating on leaving Gorillaz tumblr and maybe shifting to AO3 so I'm gonna use this post and my next few to gage how active this comunity is and see if theres even an audience for my writing here, if not once I get my AO3 acount I'll move there as the Gorillaz comunity seems much more active there]

Requests: closed

Edited: no

Pairings: Murdoc x reader, 2D x reader

Phase: unspesified

TW: Murdoc's mommy issues, Murdoc is an ass, communication issues?, Oopsy baby, Murdoc is not happy about being a father, child abandonment, fear of becoming a parent, bad spelling, bad grammar, swearing, adoption, 2D is scared about being a dad, anxiety about being a parent, if I missed anything please do tell!

S/O is motherly twords kids

Let's start off with pertty Murtty here

Listen I'ma be real honest with ya man, he could not give less of shit what you thought about kids beyhond Noodle

He's not exactly the paternal type here

And ya see, he probubly wouldn't see you act this way with kids besideds Noodle, because his life doesn't constatute him seeing kids a lot

He's a musition and he has centered a large portion of his life around it, and his hobbies outside of his job and music aren't exactly child friendly

So the most of children he see's is noodle when she she was a kid, the occational child on the street, or when kids parents bring them to their concert because the baby sitter canceld and even than he's seeing them from stage

Also most kids are scared of Murdoc so yeah

but for the sake of things lets say your in a situation where he sees with kids or more likely teens or pre-teens, and you are acting motherly

And first of all if they are teens/pre-teens he'll probably try and gage if their fans if there not and their not impressed by his status and bragging he has little interest in them

But when it comes to you interacting with kids

Murdocs reaction? unimpressed, than out right unplesant.

if there young children he'll just groan, and stare

And jealusy will slowly start bubbling in him

Not the 'pay atention to me' kinda jealusy but 'why wasn't any one as kind to me when I was a kid' kinda jealusy

and from there he'll probubly stomp off

Murdoc could feel himself tence as he watched to coddle that little twat, "Can ya shut'em up, all the little fuck did was trip, no need for the damn wambulance..." murdoc mocked under his breath. "He's 4 Murdoc, the hell are getting so pissy for..." you snap back, you two had stoped at a park because you wanted Murdoc to get out more, and while out a little boy had triped nearby- you heard and whent to help. Murdoc shifted uncomfortably where he stood, before shaking his head and starting his way to the street, "... I'm teird of this place I'm ready to go back to Kong, meet me outside the park when your ready or I'll leave without you.." his words were bitter but his threat was hollow and you knew it. You found him on the streat smoking a few minutes later after you had found the parents of the kid. You walked up to with your arms crossed, displeased with his behavour from earlyer. "What was up with you back there, that was totaly uncalled for.", you asked him somewhat stern. Murdoc srunched up his face and made a weird sound "mgh'well..." what Murdoc wanted to say was 'why did that kid get someone like you to be so nice to them, why wasn't anyone like that shown kindness tome when I was a kid, did I not i deserve it?', but he wouldn't, instead just it was nothing before starting the silent walk back to kong.

So as prevously stated Murdoc kinda struggles with a S/O who like to mom kids

He never knew his mom, he never knew anything resembleing maternal care, and it makes him bitter watching children recive the love he so despreatly needed as a child but never got

Murdocs reaction to having a child

I was originaly going to make this section of Murdocs HC purly with a Fem S/O purly because I couldn't see or invoision murdoc wanting or actauly trying to have kids, if he had it would be an acident and an unhappy one at that

I vary breifly mentioned at the start of my Dadoc with a Daughter HC's that Murdoc doesn't want and will never want kids of his of frouition

But to keep things G/N so anyone can read it lets go with if you have a functioning uteruise than it was an oopsy baby, but if you don't or don't want it be your kid, than one of Murdocs old hook ups droped a kid off at kong studios doorstep just like his mom did to his dad, and by extent you as his partner(if your chose to stay) take responsibility as the childs adoped parent anogside the actual father aka your boyfriend Murdoc

Why'd I go through all that explination crap?

Because the truth is in any situation Murdoc doen't want kids(I've said it so many time, I'm sorry for being repetative)

Young children kinda scare him, in his opion their grows and sticky

My opion on murdoc and his kids has changed some but not entirly since the Dadoc HC's so do mind any conradicting statments I may make

And that change is how Murdoc reacts when first met with the news of being a father, he isn't imeadity like 'I wanna be better than my dad was', he more or less goes through the stages of greif before he gets to that point

Denial: "The kid can't be mine!"

Anger: "I DON'T HAVE TIME TO BE A DAD I HAVE A FUCKING LIFE TO LIVE!"

Bargening: "Maybe we can put it up for adoption, yeah?"

Depression: "I'm not ready for this, I can't handle being a father... I'll probubly fuck the kid up.."

Aceptance: "I have a chance... a chance to be better.."

And despite aceptance that doesn't meant he'll be dandy walking into parenthood, he'll be anxouise, hesitant, and inatentive for quite some time, very reliant on others help and assistance

He struggles with the more responsibility based parts unsure and unerved

Which all of this is kinda ironic because despite never wanting kids he sure as helll never took any prucotions to prevent them

Helpfull kids

Honestly makes him question if the kids are is or not

A Niccels helpful? Never

At least in Murdocs eyes

But regardless of his doubts, when the kids are young he'll take it as a pleasant surprise

Kinda gets a complex about it honestly

Like he thinks his kids(that includes noodle) are better than every one elses

"Your kids has a black belt in karate, well mine did the washing up last night, also another one is milataryly trained in kenjutsu, so suck it!"

But that does change when they become teenagers

He doesn't exactly trust teens persay

I mean he assumes his teen is gonna be like him as a teen so he doesn't acept their help assuming they have bad inentions

"Hey pops, I can help take out the trash"

"And what, let you throw it through the neighbors windows? Absulutly not!"

"What??"

S/O is motherly twords kids

Once more like Murdoc, 2D's life doesn't constatute him seeing kids that much, with the exption being Noodle- 2D hardly interacts with kids

He does so more than Murdoc though, probubly because 2D goes outs out the house.

but again for the sake of it lets say your in a situation where 2D gets to see you motherly with children(that isn't Noodle, sorry Noodle)

He's totaly A-okay with it, and thinks it very sweet of you

I mean hell this guy probably already thinks the world of you, it's kinda hard to make yourself more likeble, but some how you did it

but honestly, the truth is it doesn't ilisit much of a reaction from, him cuz the truth is it was kinda expected

Because unlike some people *cough* Murdoc *cough* he had a fairly good upbringing, with loving caring people, espeasly his mother who he has a solid relationship with even as an adult

So to him it's kinda expected for you to get along with kids, in his mind any adult person regardless of gender should be diecent twords kids

And S/O just being extra motherly is purly just a highlight for him it just makes you a litlle but better

Kindness, and caringness is what 2D wants in a partner so seeing this really solidifies that you two are ment to be in his nonexistent eyes

Side note though kids are scared of him, more or less when he had pits where his eyes should've been, but even the pure white freaks young kids out

Which sucks because when 2D sees you doting on some kids, he kinda gets a feeling of being left out

and he wants to say hi to the kiddos and just take it as an opertunity to bond with you

if only it ever worked out like that...

"Hi kiddies!" Stuart said with a wide smile as he waked up behind you

Cue a crying 3 year old and a crying 5 year old, as they were scared shitless by the tall blue hair man that towerd over them and looked at them with hollow eye socets

"wait, why are they crying?" Stuart turns to you caught off gaurd, "did something happen... was it somthing I did?"

But once most kids get to know him, they usualy love him

2D's reaction to having a child

I don't think Stuart ever wanted kids, but I don't think he's upset at the prospects, well at lest as upset as murdoc

Because 2D definity has his own doubts

And while Stuart is a bit ditzy, always seems to be stuck in his own head

when brought down to reality he's quite compitent

2D in my opion lives life with his head in the clouds, stated by his own wiki, but he has breif moments or peiords of clairity at times

I could see this being one of those moments

Kids are a big thing so if there was a situation where he had to think serouisly about being a parent it would be hard at first, whether that be an acident baby(that he has to take resposibity for) or his partner siting him down to have serious conversation about kids, whether concieving, adoption, or sergate.

like I said he's not totaly incompetent

He knows his situation isn't ideal for kids

His career takes up a large portion of his life wether that be traveling, recoding or writing songs, that doesn't leave time for kids

Not to mention relisticly with his situation with being being abused by murdoc throughout all phases makes the thought of bringing his child into the same building as Murdoc want to make 2D cry

So frankly he is more or less scared and anxouise because a child is a lot, and he understands his life would not permit that

not to say 2D hasn't thought about kids nesisarly, because I could see him enjoying being a father, and could see him with his expearence helping raise Noodle, become kinda fond of the idea of kids

But thats it, and idea, he never thought he would be given the opertunity

I could see 2D walking away from the situation of either the children talk or being told about oopsy baby

Not like abandoning, but like taking a step back to catch his breath and thing

I could see him talking to his mom for advice

She had and raised a kid after all

And she gives him pretty solid advice, if want to be a parent(or are going to be a parent), but your not ready, than get ready- over thinking wont help, and work with partner(S/O) to make the trasition easyer.

So after talking with his mom, and smoking two packs of ciggarents, 2D comes to you with his mind clear, and ready to try and have a real conversation

and while still scared and anxouise he gets really exited eventualy

Stuart, at some point starts actauly looking forward to becoming a parent... a little to much

But how can you blaim him, Stuart can get really pasionate when he's doing them and can over do things very easily

Also in later phases if your looking into adoption I could see stuart semi-joking about trying to find the iligitimate kids he hd when he was younger and slept around a lot

But regardless 2D would be a loving parent

2D would also be really exited about giving his mom grand kids, and having his mom involved

But despite that Stuart is still a ditz and needs a lot of help with the whole parenting thing

"Sweatheart, you're making /Childs name/ their bottle, right?" You say entering the kitchen. "Yep I got it all well in done." Stuart beems happily at you pointing at the bottle on the counter. "Great thanks..." You nod grabing the bottle before pausing, the feeling of a cold bottle makes you frown and shake your head "...wait, you forgot to heat up the bottle again..." you sigh, at this point you should just expect it with how frequently he does it. Stuart's posture falters as he looks at you blankly "I'm suposed to heat it up?", "Yes stuart, yes you are- and it's suposed to be luke warm tempurate, don't put in the microwave for 5 minutes again.." You state mater afactly handing the bottle back to him, he needs to learn how to do this himself Stuart responds back with a chipper "okay", before trying to put the whole bottle in the microwave, "Wait, stuart, hon, you to trake off the the bottles and and nipple before you warm it" you stop him before he puts it in. "Wait, this parts called a nipple?"

He's trying but it's a bit of a struggle

Stuart with a helpful kid

Good, their dad could use the help

Stuart lucked out with a helpful kid, cuz while like I said it was a struggle at the start

It would probubly be a struggle though out

And I don't think 2D could handle rebellious kids, so it's good their well behaved and helpful

I could also see 2D picking up on this and trying to be more atentive himself

Sorry not much else to say

#gorillaz x reader #murdoc x reader #2d x reader #stuart pot x reader #gorillaz #murdoc gorillaz #2d gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #gorillaz x #gorillaz fandom #gorillaz 2d #stuart pot #2d #murdoc niccals #murdoc niccals x reader #parent hc's #Dadoc #Stuart Pot as a father

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drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Home

Leon Kennedy x female reader I just wanted to write some damsel in distress nonsense with Death Island Leon, but imagine whoever you like! Fluff - though mentions of blood, smatter of death.

Coming to, you feel as if you’re hungover - disorientated, nauseous and a sore head - but that can’t be right, you didn’t drink last night.

It takes a moment to localize the throbbing pain only to the side of your head rather than all over and, as you catch sight of blood smeared against the white tiles of the kitchen floor – something you were desperate to change as white shows up everything - you remember.

You’d been working in the home office. Leon had set it up for himself originally – you’d never been brave enough to research what the price of the beautiful mahogany desk must’ve been, but you’re always sure to use a coaster to avoid marking it. He used a laptop, so he’d insisted you utilize the space instead for your desktop when you moved in over a year ago. It was a nice house, on a quiet, suburban street – he’d bought it as a fixer-upper, a bit of a passion project. The rooms were all in various states of completion but he wanted your opinion and input.

“This is our home,” he’d stressed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be here more than me…”

You’d heard of the conspiracy theories surrounding the Raccoon City incident. Who hadn’t stumbled down that rabbit hole before? Leon had confirmed it in vague, half-told recollections of the night a few months into your relationship after an argument about his commitment issues, and you hadn’t pressed further than that since. He told you the bare minimum so you were aware of what his work now entailed, why he had to go away for weeks at a time, why he was so desperate to keep his work and personal life separate for your safety and protection.

He accompanied you when he could to family and friends’ celebrations, charmed them all into forgiving him for his flaky appearances, but they could all see how happy you were since the two of you had got together.

You’d been wearing noise-cancelling headphones as you worked to drown out the next door neighbour’s relentless building works that had started on Monday – a basement leak meant the foundations were being fixed and the noise was horrendous - and had gone to the kitchen to make an ill-advised afternoon coffee and…

Nothing.

Well, the building works have stopped which is a positive, but that doesn’t negate the blood on the floor and your thudding head.

“Mrs Kennedy, I presume.” A man, well-dressed in an awful tight-fitting suit kneels down in front of you. He doesn’t look familiar - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bit of stubble, looking tired, mid-40s, you guessed. You’re confused by the way he’s addressed you – you’re not married, there’s no ring there - and he clocks the bemused expression at once. “Or perhaps you’re his whore, waiting for him to return to your little love nest, hm?”

There’s no good answer or witty comeback so you keep silent, instead trying to raise your hand to feel your head, gage how bad it is – head wounds bleed a lot, you knew that much – but your arm doesn’t comply. Your gaze finds the plastic of the zip-tie cutting into your wrist, holding it snugly against the arm of the chair you’re now seated in - dragged in from the dining room.

“Ah, yes.” He cups your chin, tilting your face back towards him in an effort to get you to focus on him. “A necessary measure. I need you to play the damsel in distress.”

“Leon’s not here,” you reply, quietly, words feeling thick on your tongue though it’s not a lie. “He’s away with work - I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

“Oh, he’s due home very soon. I couldn’t make such a pretty thing wait for days on end.” He lets go of your chin only to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You try to jerk away from his touch but find your ankles have received the same treatment as your wrists, though tethered together as if to stop you standing.

“I apologize about your head,” he stands up then, a smug look on his face as he towers over you. “I did tell my men to be gentle, but it appears one misunderstood.”

You shuffle in the chair in a pitiful attempt of relieving the pressure on your wrists. “Who are you?”

He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Kennedy’s ETA is four minutes, sir.” A gruff voice states from behind you.

“Excellent.” Your captor smiles. “I suppose he was hoping to surprise you with his arrival, hm? Nice that we can turn the surprise around on him.” He snaps his fingers at one of his subordinates, “You can gag her now.”

A hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back and you gasp only for a wad of fabric to be stuffed behind your teeth. You try and push it out with your tongue on instinct but another bit of fabric is forced between your lips, keeping it snugly in place as it’s knotted at the back of your head, causing you to whimper – or at least attempt - when he brushes up against your head wound.

There’s a hive of activity around you – the three grunts getting into position, checking their ammo. They can’t just plan to shoot Leon outright, surely. Why would he need a damsel otherwise? Your captor grabs the back of your chair and drags it, positioning it in line with the hallway door, meaning that you will be the first thing he sees. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes.

“Showtime.”

Your heart is pounding so loud it’s all you can now hear – maybe it’s so loud Leon will hear with that incredibly sensitive hearing he has before he opens the door, know something’s wrong and get the hell out of here.

No such luck, though. The building work next door hasn’t resumed, so you can hear him cut the engine in the driveway, hear when the Jeep door opens and closes, hear the jingle of his keys in the door. He has his eyes cast down when he enters, immediately turning to the lock the door behind him out of both security and habit.

“Sweetpea?” He sounds upbeat, happy as he calls for you and it breaks your heart all the more when he turns, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck.” He breathes out, taking a hurried step forward, hand automatically reaching for his pistol still holstered on his belt. A loud click pierces through your left ear, cold metal prods into the side of your temple and Leon freezes in place.

“Uh-uh, Kennedy. Unless you wanna see your lovely lady’s brains splattered all over the floor, I’d drop that right now.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, holding his hands above his head and dropping the pistol to the ground, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thunk.

“Keep those hands up and kick it over.”

Leon complies, kicking the pistol so it skids down the hallway, swiftly collected by one of the grunts.

“Dante.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you remember little ol’ me. Come - join us.” The gun leaves your temple but the fear remains as Leon slowly strides up the hallway, hands still in the air. “Pull Kennedy up a chair and make sure he’s comfortable.” A grunt ducks into the dining room and emerges with one the armless chairs, placing it down heavily on the kitchen tile as Leon enters. He’s swiftly smacked across the face with the butt of a gun, followed up by a punch to the stomach, causing him to double over. Another grunt grabs his arms, yanking them behind his back and you know by the way his biceps tense that he could break out of that hold easily enough, but he’s choosing not to.

You feel horrible that you’re the reason why he’s not.

He’s pushed down onto the chair and his wrists are quickly secured behind his back with a zip tie through the wooden slats. He lifts his head up to reveal a bloodied lip, but his eyes are immediately on you as he speaks.

“She has nothing to do with me and you, Dante.”

“Oh, I know that.” He scoffs, digging his fingernails into your shoulder once more. “But your little sweetpea is so useful in making sure that you remain on your very best behaviour.”

“You’ve got me now, okay?” Leon shrugs his shoulders in demonstration. “Let her go.”

“Aw,” Dante tuts. “Did you think you had her out of harm’s way, Kennedy? Kept your personal life underwraps? Granted I couldn’t quite confirm her name, but here we are all the same. Pretty little thing – shame she had to get wrapped up with you.”

“What do you want?” You can tell Leon’s annoyed, though he keeps his voice measured.

“The Apollo files.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “I don’t ha- Ugh!” The grunt in front of him had pistol-whipped him once more, his nose now bleeding a little in consequence.

“Next time you tell a lie, your woman is going to get the same treatment.” You grip the armrests in apprehension and Leon once again tenses as he notes your discomfort.

“Okay, okay! They’re in the attic. One of the storage boxes up there – there’s not many. Against the south wall.”

“Good boy.” Dante chuckles, ruffling his hand through the agent’s hair condescendingly. “You two - with me,” he points at two of his men, before turning to the third. “You, keep an eye on the lovebirds.”

“Be careful where you step up there – I haven’t put in a permanent floor. Been busy.” Leon retorts.

“Aw, boys, he’s worried we’ll hurt ourselves.” He grabs Leon by the chin then, squeezing his cheeks. “We’ll be right back. I wouldn’t want to keep this lovely lady waiting any more than she has to.”

He shoves Leon’s face to the side and heads out to the hallway, the two grunts following as the third remains in position to the side, gun in hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea, but I’ll get you out of this – I swear.“ Leon says softly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “Okay?”

You nod – there’s little else you can do – but you know you’re shaking. You hate yourself for doubting him, but you can’t see how the two of you are getting out of this in one piece. He doesn’t say anything more, his eyes flitting from one direction to another as he calculates his moves for what feels like hours.

The building work next door resumes – a loud drilling echoing around the kitchen. The grunt winces at the sound and Leon gets to his feet, arms still bound around the dining chair and headbutts him, sending him stumbling back, blood gushing from a broken nose. Leon spins then, slamming the chair against the marble countertops, splintering the wood and releasing himself from the chair. He then jumps again, tucking his legs impressively close to his chin, though letting out a strangled grunt and his bound hands are now in front of him. He lifts up his knee, tenses his biceps and slams it down, the zip-tie splintering across the floor – all in the time it takes the grunt to come to his senses and aims his gun blindly, sending bullets thankfully in every direction but yours.

Leon ducks and dives, swiftly grabbing the grunt around the neck with an arm and holding it tight, cutting off his air supply until he goes limp in his arms and he grabs hold of the man’s gun, quickly checking the cartridge with one smooth downward motion.

A bullet sails over his shoulder as one of the grunts returns from upstairs and Leon quickly takes him out with a headshot. You divert your eyes then, not wanting to see. It’s them or you – you know that – but it doesn’t make the act easier to witness.

It is barely a second before another gunshot rings out, followed by a second - Dante and the remaining man at the kitchen doorway, though the grunt goes down as quickly as he entered due to Leon’s return fire.

Dante’s face is furious, his gun aimed squarely at your head and he pulls the trigger. Leon sidesweeps the chair legs from under you, sending the chair toppling backwards and you with it, your head smacking once more against the tile and making your ears ring and vision dance with black. The bullet soars over your head and into the kitchen cabinet.

There’s another gunshot, a horrible, squelching sound, and then a series of grunts and groans – flesh on flesh – but you can’t look up, can’t see what’s going on as a succession of gunshots ring out and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There’s the clatter of a drawer being opened frantically and then, suddenly, Leon is above you – his shoulder bloody – and a knife in his hand. He lifts your head up gently, cutting through the back of the gag and pulls it away from your mouth, fishing out the fabric that had been making you feel close to choking.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says softly as you catch your breath, taking glorious mouthfuls of air. “Stay still, okay? I’ll get these off you.” He presses the blade against your wrist with a careful flick and you’re released from the first of your restraints. He makes quick work of your other wrist and the ones around your ankles, pulling you up into his arms, cradling you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, rocking you back and forth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Leon, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay. It’s not okay. I promised to never get you mixed up in this. I don’t know how they found this place, how they found you. I’ve been so fucking careful, baby.” His voice breaks, along with your heart.

“I know you have.” You try and soothe. “It’s not fair, but it’s not your fault, sweetheart. I love you.”

He presses his lips to yours then, kissing you softly. “Love you too – so much. Feel so selfish.”

“Uh-uh, no – you deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

“You do, sweetpea, but-“

“If I can’t say it’s okay, you can’t go down this road either and we both can’t pout about it.”

He sniffs, rolls his eyes and you finally remember the blood patch on his shoulder.

“Did you get shot?” He shakes his head. “Grazed me. I’m fine. You, however, need a full check-up.”

“If I’m having one, you’re having one too. We can have a date to the emergency room.”

He laughs – it’s nice to hear, to see the smile reaching his eyes. “I owe you a much better date than that.”

“Nah – maybe they’ll put you in a hospital gown.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You bite your lip.

“The ones that don’t tie at the back?”

“Oh, don’t they? Interesting.”

He kisses you again then, with a bit more passion than before. “Baby, you do not have to get me in a hospital gown to see my ass.”

“Who said anything about seeing your ass? Get your head out the gutter, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon rolls his eyes once more, getting to his feet with ease with you still in his arms. He pushes your face into his chest as he walks towards the front door.

“Leon, no, you need to rest your shoulder. Put me down - I can walk.”

“Don’t want you to see.” He murmurs. “I’m gonna get you in the Jeep, call work quickly – they’ll come sort this mess – then straight to the hospital.”

You keep quiet then, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you nuzzle your head against his chest, a realisation hitting you.

“We won’t be coming back here, will we?”

He pauses, fiddling with the keys in lock.

“I’m sorry. I know you were finally feeling at home here and-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Home is us together – wherever. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He opens the door. “You’re right. Home is with you, sweetpea.”

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macbethsymphony · 1 year ago

Text

Port Wine & Sake | Chapters 1 & 2

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

wc: 5.8k

Chapter rating: SFW

Whole fic content/warnings: eventually NSFW and 18+, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, slight alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family dynamics

Summary: You were tired of the fucking nuisances freeloading in your brother's castle, but it seemed you had no choice but to endure. A tumultuous romance between Roronoa Zoro and Dracule Mihawk's sister, set throughout the 2 year time skip.

Also on AO3 if you prefer

Your heels clicked violently against the cold marble floor, the feathery hem of your robe flowing behind you dramatically. “MIHAWK,” you roared, your voice echoing thunderously down the corridor as you strode with purpose towards the entryway.

Your lip curled in disdain as you caught a glimpse of pink hair disappearing through the wall in front of you. You had enough of these fucking children freeloading in your brother’s castle.

The specter princess, Perona, had been a source of trouble from the outset, her annoying negative hollows and ceaseless demands wearing thin on your patience. And then, she had somehow managed to summon another one. The green-haired boy, Zoro, had been barely clinging to life when he’d first arrived. He had been a monumental challenge to nurse back to health and yet he remained oblivious and thankless in the face of the colossal efforts you had made on his behalf. Instead of showing gratitude, he wandered the halls aimlessly, trying to escape this cursed island. Every time the pink-haired annoyance had brought him back, he had been on the brink of death, nevertheless his resolve never faltered. The determination was almost… admirable. Even through the curtains of your anger, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was still alive.

You took a sharp turn, the reverberation of your stomps traveling through your legs. You dodged an incoming ghost with a grace that was becoming practiced ease. The fucking bitch was trying to stop you.

"MIHAWK!" Your frustration boiled over once more as you descended the steps, your fist clenched tightly around the expensive bottle of port in your grasp. The tie at your waist loosened, allowing your robe to fall open and reveal the thin silk of the jet-black slip you wore underneath. You edged at the limit of decency, the softness of your thighs, the roundness of your cleavage on display, but you didn’t care in the haze of your fury.

You spotted your brother’s silhouette against the glass of the front door, the two nuisances in tow behind him. Good. You’d settle this once and for all. The scorching intensity of your gaze caught the warlord’s glacial stare, a quiet conversation flaring between you.

You closed the distance, the click of your heels a statement in themselves as the sound reverberated loudly in the silence.

“Sister,” he acknowledged you when the tips of your toes defiantly touched the edge of his boots.

You glanced up at him wordless argument still carrying on. You squinted in contempt. You knew that look in his eyes. “No,” you said coldly, in no mood for leniency.

His gaze narrowed in turn, gaging your resolve. “I will hear them out,” he stated as matter-of-fact.

“You will not,” you retorted, unwilling to back down.

You spotted the pink-haired girl shift nervously in the periphery of your vision. It was rare to see her squirm. You scoffed in anger. Of course she would only show respect in the face of your brother’s power.

Mihawk’s stare remained steadfast. Your grip tightened on the bottle in your hands, knuckles whitening.

“These children have overstayed their welcome,” you added with a scowl. “You will send them on their way.”

“We shall hear them out, (Y/n),” He said in answer, moving past you, heading towards the dining room.

He’d used your name. He only did so when he was final in his decisions. Your jaw clenched as the two uninvited guests followed him. With an annoyed click of your tongue, you turned and followed too.

Perona eyed you with uncertainty as you made your way to your habitual chair. As brother and sister sat at their respective head of the table, she was suddenly acutely aware that her fate depended on the outcome of this conversation. Her gaze avoided yours as if she knew she was the primary cause of your vexation.

You sank rather ungracefully into the plush embrace of the red velvet, a deliberate act of rebellion against the stifling formality of the room. In petty defiance, you lifted the bottle of port to your lips, taking a sip directly from its neck, all the while keeping your stare fixed firmly on Mihawk. You couldn't help but smirk as a subtle twitch crossed his features. You knew all too well his contempt for such uncouth behavior; after all, fine wine deserved nothing less than the reverence of a proper glass.

As the seconds stretched into an uncomfortable silence, Perona's agitation became increasingly palpable, her movements growing more restless with each passing moment. "I-I'm sorry for causing—" she began tentatively, her voice trailing off.

Your scoff cut through her attempt at an apology, your tone dripping with disdain. "Save your breath," you snapped. You didn't even deign to spare her a glance, your eyes fixed firmly in a battle of will against your brother.

A snort from the green-haired boy punctuated the tension in the room, his amusement at the exchange evident.

Mihawk's voice sliced through the atmosphere like a blade through silk, his words commanding attention. His unwavering gaze swept across the faces assembled around the table before settling on yours. "We will hear their plea, (Y/n). That is final," he declared with an air of authority that brooked no argument.

Your teeth ground together, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you knew better than to defy Mihawk when he had made up his mind. With a begrudging nod, you reclined back in your chair, the bottle of port cradled against your thighs. With a subtle gesture, you indicated to Perona and Zoro that they could speak.

Perona shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes flickering nervously between you and Mihawk. "Um, well, you see," she began, as she tried to voice her thoughts. "We didn’t choose to come here. Kuma sent us."

Incredulity washed over you, as you turned your gaze from Perona to Zoro. His nod of approval to the specter princess's statement only heightened your surprise, coloring your features with a mixture of shock and astonishment.

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Your fucking coworker, Mihawk?” you shouted in anger looking back at the warlord.

You observed the imperceptible shift in his stance at the revelation, but his expression remained unreadable.

The sound of young man clearing his throat drew your attention, prompting you to turn your head and meet his gaze. His eyes, steady and unwavering, held a firm resolve as he spoke. "I have no intention of staying," he declared with conviction, his voice carrying a hint of defiance.

You couldn't help but scoff at his confidence, your skepticism evident. Images of the army of humandrills surrounding the castle flooded your mind, reminders of the countless wounds you had tended to. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, boy," you retorted, your tone laced with doubt.

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, a sudden tension seizing his frame as your words hit their mark. You could practically feel the wave of anger emanating from him as he stiffened in his seat. It was evident that you had struck a nerve, and the glare he shot your way was nothing short of furious.

You met his gaze head-on, a sneer on your lips, refusing to back down. There was a challenge in your stare, a silent invitation for him to unleash whatever retort he had brewing.

Before he could respond, Mihawk intervened, his voice commanding attention. "If you want a small boat, there is one on the west side of the castle," he suggested, his tone both authoritative and diplomatic.

The tension in the room escalated as he pushed himself from his chair with a strained effort, the legs of the intricate piece of furniture grating against the stone floor. Perona's reaction was immediate, her panic palpable as she shot up from her seat with wide eyes.

"What the hell?!" she screeched in a mixture of disbelief and distress, her usual composure unraveling in the face of her companion’s sudden departure. "Don't leave me alone! You fool!"

Zoro ignored Perona's frantic pleas, his gaze fixed determinedly ahead as he limped towards the door with stubborn resolve. His movements were stiff and labored, a testament to the injuries he had undoubtedly sustained earlier in the day.

As you watched him limp away, conflicting emotions churned within you. There was a flicker of worry mingled with a begrudging sense of admiration for his obstinate resilience. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but scoff inwardly, the bottle of port in your hands finding its place to your lips once more.

A bitter chuckle escaped you as you took another sip, the rich liquid burning its way down your throat. What was the point of even caring? He seemed intent on getting himself killed, after all. Perhaps you should just let him, sparing you the trouble of stitching him up any further, elbow deep in blood.

Mihawk's gaze remained impassive as he observed the unfolding scene, his expression unreadable to most. But you could clearly see the hint of approval in the subtle tilt of his head, a silent acknowledgement of the boy’s determination.

Swordsmen and their damned pride.

As the door swung shut behind Zoro, leaving Perona standing alone in the center of the room, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. Mihawk looked at you and you knew in that instant that he’d taken his decision.

“I will allow you to stay,” he said simply, eyes not shifting away from yours as he spoke to the source of your annoyance.

“You will?” The pink-haired pest smiled.

You ignored the hope in the girl’s voice as you bristled at your brother’s decree, the feeling of frustration simmering within you threatening to boil over. “And what about me?” you demanded, your tone laced with venom. “Must I endure this circus indefinitely?”

Mihawk’s demeanor softened, a rare hint of empathy shining through the golden hues of his eyes. “I trust you can handle the situation with grace, Sister,” he replied unusually gently.

You scoffed, a sneer breaking the elegance of your features. Grace. The word rang hollow in your ears as you fought the storm that threatened to reign over your temper.

You sank further into your chair, your expression bordering on insolent. You had half a mind to continue the argument, but your pride wouldn’t allow this conversation to degenerate into pettiness in the presence of a guest.

The silence between siblings dragged on, only broken by the specter princess’s incessant worries for the swordsman who had just left. You smirked as you watched Mihawk’s patience grow thin, he hadn’t been in their company for an hour and he was already struggling. It was an almost sweet revenge, if only you didn’t have to endure the torture too.

“Perona, if it troubles you so much, why don’t you go look after him,” he snapped, although his tone remained cordial to the unknowing.

“What?! Why would I do that?” She screeched. Ah, there it was. Her petulance was back now that her worries were eased. “The idiot can die for all I care,” still, she stomped out of the room, inevitably going to find the younger swordsman.

You watched Perona storm out with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The girl's mood swings were like a tempest, unpredictable and chaotic. But at least her departure brought a temporary reprieve from her incessant chatter.

As the door shut behind her, you let the quiet rule over the both of you for a moment. You turned your attention back to Mihawk. His gaze was fixed on you, a silent question lingering in the air between you.

You met his stare head-on, refusing to back down. "I won't pretend to be happy about this," you muttered, your words laced with bitterness. "But I'll tolerate their presence... for now."

He nodded in acknowledgement, his expression unreadable as always. "I appreciate your cooperation, Sister," he replied, his tone even.

You scoffed, the rancor lingering in your voice. "Cooperation implies I have a choice," you retorted, your gaze flickering to the bottle of port still clutched in your hand. "But I'll play along... for your sake."

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint sound of arguing drifting through the thick walls. After a moment, you rose from your seat with a sigh, prompting Mihawk to quirk an eyebrow in your direction. You shrugged nonchalantly, crossing the room to the credenza where several bottles of wine lay.

Selecting one at random, you retrieved two glasses and carried them back to where he sat. You leaned on the edge of the table, observing him warily. Your tongue passed on your teeth as you deliberated how much patience he had left. With practiced ease, you uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into each glass. The rich red liquid shimmered softly in the dim light of the room as you passed him the glass.

He savored the wine with a deliberate slowness, his eyes drifting shut in appreciation of the velvety flavor that danced across his palate. Though it still needed time to breathe, its initial taste was nothing short of delightful.

"It’ll do you good to be around people your age," he remarked casually, setting the glass back down on the table with a gentle clink.

Your reaction was immediate, a scowl breaking across your features in response to his comment. "Don’t you fucking dare," you started, your tone thick with bitterness and incredulity.

A warning passed his lips, your name was spoken softly but with a weight that carried a subtle reminder to tread carefully.

Your jaw clenched as you fought to rein in your temper. Instead of succumbing to the urge to snap at him, you leaned forward, your focus shifting to the intricate details of his coat. With practiced precision, your hand followed the seams, exploring the armscye, tracing the eyelets and the leather cord that replaced the traditional stitching.

Though there were signs of permanent stretching, you found no further damage, a small relief amid your frustration.

A gentle flick of your fingers against his neck prompted him to tilt his head, allowing you to continue your observations without interruption.

"How did you find the changes I made to the jacket?" you inquired, your attention fully consumed by the collar as you awaited his response.

He shifted slightly under your examination, a faint hint of annoyance evident in his demeanor. Yet, he remained cooperative, his own compromise to the situation, permitting you to inspect the garment without protest.

As your fingers moved along the collar, tracing the lines of your craftsmanship, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The jacket had held up remarkably well, even through the turmoil of a war. Truly, a reflection of your commitment to perfection.

His response came after a moment of contemplation, his voice measured as he offered his feedback. "The changes are subtle but effective," he remarked, his tone neutral. "The fit is much improved, the changes you’ve made to the sleeves allow for a better range of movement and increased comfort."

Your lips curved into a faint smile at his words, a glimmer of satisfaction creeping into your expression. It was gratifying to hear his acknowledgement of your efforts, even if it was delivered with his characteristic stoicism.

"Good," you replied simply, mentally tallying all the modifications you wanted to try for the next version. "Let me know if you have any requests for future alterations."

With a final nod of affirmation, you leaned back. Your gazes met each other in a far calmer display than before. Your fingers found the stem of your glass, taking a well-earned sip. “I am glad you are back safe, brother.” You said genuinely, your eyes gentle.

As the tension dissipated, you appeared more youthful, your features softening without the weight of anger. Mihawk couldn't suppress the faint smile that graced his lips as he raised his glass to his mouth, the crimson liquid flowing in smoothly. "It feels good to be back," he confessed, a sense of contentment evident in his tone.

You cast a glance towards the window, noting the subtle shift in the ambient light as dusk descended. The evening had drawn its curtains over the sky, painting it in hues of twilight. You hummed in consideration. "Since you are so insistent on letting them stay,” your voice dragged on in a gentle pause. “Please make sure to bring him back inside before he meets his end at the hands of those baboons," you said, the words leaving your lips with a reluctant resignation.

theHis brow arched gracefully at your demand. “He is more resilient than you think,” he assured you, his words carrying a loftiness of confidence.

His affirmation beckoned your attention back to his countenance. You squinted, trying to decipher the secrets hidden within the depths of his gaze. "Is that a sliver of respect I detect in your tone, Brother?" you taunted, the corners of your mouth curling upward in a playful dance, teasing out the nuances of his response.

You observed as he put his hat back on, rising to ensure your request would be fulfilled. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his tone laced with a trace of elusive admiration.

You snorted, as you watched him leave. It was a rare intonation, one you’d barely ever heard in all your years together.

"Oh, and (Y/n)," Mihawk's voice cut through the air with a hint of reprimand as he stopped in the doorway. "Please do make yourself presentable when we have guests."

Your response came swift and sharp, a blade polished by an eternity of familial repartee. "I will take no commentary on my lack of propriety from you, dear Brother,” you retorted laced with a whisper of playful sarcasm. You looked him up and down, “But do try to keep your shirt closed... especially now that we have guests."

The warlord’s mask cracked for an instant, his eyes rolling almost imperceptibly, an acknowledgement of your jest. “You’re incorrigible, sister,” he let the door close in a heavy thud behind him.

“MIHAWK,” you shouted after him, knowing that even though he would not answer, he could hear you very well. “Do come and get me, when you inevitably come back with that boy tittering on the edge of death.”

And it did not take long until they indeed came to fetch you. With a sigh, you rolled the sleeves of your robe and went to get the medical kit. After all, there was little difference between stitching silk and closing wounds.

Roronoa Zoro needed to get the fuck off this cursed island, and he needed to leave NOW! He had to get to Luffy. His captain, no, his friend was alone. He should have been there, fighting by his side. If only he wasn’t so fucking weak… none of this nightmare would have happened. But, not only was his crew waiting for him, between the Thriller Bark girl's antics driving him up the wall, the looming threat of the man he’d sworn to defeat and your peculiar brand of insanity thrown into the mix, he was about to lose it himself.

He reluctantly blinked his eyes open, greeted by a wave of pain coursing through his body. Each limb felt like lead, dragging him into a pit of exhaustion. His gaze, heavy with fatigue, slowly lifted to find your silhouette illuminated by the flickering candlelight, perched gracefully in the plush confines of the chair beside his bed.

Ah, that's right—he had passed out from the pain. Mihawk had brought him back from the brink of death and held him down as you’d patched him up. As he lay there, his eyes took in the delicacy of your traits, the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, and the softness of your thighs, accentuated by the shortness of your black silk slip and open robe. What was he doing? Was he delirious from the pain? You were infuriating, unreasonable, flat-out insane. Nothing about you was pleasant, from that petulant smile to your awful bedside manners.

“Remarkable. You’re still alive,” you quipped with bitter sarcasm, wrenching him away from his thoughts, your eyes not looking at him, a deep frown of concentration marking your features.

With meticulous precision, the small blade in your hands glided through a block of cheese as you tried to create the thinnest slice possible. He knew that knife. His stare narrowed as he placed it back in his mind. Was that the knife Mihawk usually wore at his neck? His gaze dropped to the chain attached to it. For fuck’s sake it was. It somehow pissed him off, hard.

You let out a sound of triumph as you held up the paper-thin piece of cheese to your mouth, the light seeping through it before it melted against your tongue, the metal glinting tantalizingly as it touched your lips. You reached for the glass of wine at your side, taking a sip with closed eyes, delight on your features as you savored the taste.

He clenched his fists. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, mingling with a sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. Your carefree arrogance only served to exacerbate his agitation.

With a grimace, he forced himself to lean up on his elbow, ignoring the protests of his weary muscles. His gaze flickered to the creaked open door, the burning desire to escape clawing at him with renewed intensity. His captain needed him. He had a promise to keep, and nothing – not even his own battered body would stand in his way.

Summoning every ounce of willpower he possessed, he pushed through the pain, determination slowly lending strength to his limbs. Before he could fully sit up, your eyes snapped dangerously to his, freezing him in his attempt.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” your voice was calm but the coy smile on your lips held menacing threats.

His jaw clenched. “I need to leave,” he declared, his words tinged with desperation. “My captain needs me.”

Your gaze narrowed. “Is that so?” you mused as you slowly slid a leg onto the bed, your foot rising when it touched him.

You let it fall none too gently, bare foot meeting his lower abdomen. There was defiance glinting in your stare as you raised your other leg with a smile, crossing your ankles over him and sinking in your seat comfortably. “You can try again when you’re healed.” You went back to the block of cheese in your hands, uninterested by him once more.

The agony that staggered through him at your touch was deafening, he slumped back, lightly bouncing against the bed. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to stifle the grunt of pain escaping him.

Fuck.

You were infuriating. With each passing moment, the realization of his own helplessness grew more profound, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue.

“Woman,” he groaned, his voice thick with anger. The single word, laden with frustration and exhaustion, slipped past his lips like a curse, hanging heavy in the air between you. Yet, despite the venom in his tone, there was an underlying note of desperation, a plea masked by his stubborn pride.

You didn’t look away from the knife as it sliced into the cheese, the blade visible through the thin layer. But the way your brow arched in amusement and the ghost of the smirk gracing your features told him that you’d heard him well enough.

“Yes, Zoro?” you replied innocently, his name drawled out emphatically from your plump lips.

He wrestled the urge to snap at you. “Let me go,” he demanded with a resolute frown.

Your mouth curved into a sly smile, a glimmer of mischief passing in your eyes. You hummed in consideration, drawing out your answer. “And why should I do that?” you teased, sinking more comfortably in your chair, your feet inching ever so slightly closer to a wound on his chest.

His muscles tensed instinctively, a moan of pain escaping him between muttered curses. “My captain needs me,” he repeated in a growl.

You let out an annoyed click of your tongue when the slice of cheese broke in the middle of the block. Your eyes met his, all playfulness gone, replaced by a sharp displeasure instead. “Yes, yes, I know. Your captain needs you, you need to go back to your crew, three days or something, you’re already late, et cetera, et cetera,” you rambled on coldly. “You’ve said so over a hundred times, boy. It won’t change the fact that you’re bedridden.”

Tension lingered in the air as your words hung heavily in his mind. You muched almost aggressively on the broken piece of cheese before downing the glass of wine, stare not leaving his as he deliberated.

“I can handle myself just fine,” he retorted defiantly, trying unsuccessfully to rise from the bed.

His stubbornness was met with a derisive snort, your eyes rolling in exasperation. “Clearly,” you remarked dryly, your tone heavy with sarcasm as you gestured toward him with the cross-shaped knife in your hands, the chain rattling against the wood of the armrest in the sharp movements. “You’re the very picture of strength and resilience.”

His teeth ground audibly. If only your feet weren’t pinning him down, then he’d at least be able to make it to the door. He struggled for a moment, his soft grunts of effort the only sound filling the room.

“I won’t be kept here against my will,” he declared eventually, his hand grabbing at one of your ankles almost painfully, trying to pull it off him.

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected tantrum, then you started giggling, until rich laughter flowed within you. “Against your will?” You laughed harder. “Are you implying I care about your well-being, little swordsman?” You brought the bottle of wine to your grinning lips, taking sips between chuckles.

He bristled at your amusement. “Release me, woman,” he snapped, his grip tightening around you.

He didn’t notice the flicker of pain that passed your features in his rage. A flicker you expertly hid behind the facade of your smile.

“Oh my. Did I hurt your delicate sensibilities?” You snorted at him nonetheless. “Don’t worry, I’m not stopping you. If you want to leave, you can leave.” You paused, cocking your head to the side. “Or are my feet so heavy that you can’t stand up?”

Zoro's frustration reached its boiling point as he glared daggers at you, his muscles tensing with every fiber of his being. You were fucking mad. The urge to lash out, to throttle you, to break free from the invisible chains that bound him to the bed, surged through him like a tidal wave, threatening to consume him in its relentless grip.

But as he pushed against the weight of your feet, the searing pain that shot through his body served as a harsh reminder of his own limitations. With a guttural growl of frustration, he released his hold on your ankle, his hands falling limply to his sides as defeat washed over him like a suffocating blanket.

For a long moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rhythmic sound of his ragged breaths. You watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity, the corners of your lips curling into a satisfied smile as you savored the taste of your victory.

“Ah, right,” you suddenly spoke when he finally closed his eyes in defeat. You slid your feet off him, reaching to the side table and tossing something on his chest. “Mihawk said there’s something about that captain of yours in the papers.”

His eyes shot open. You couldn’t be fucking serious. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?!” He yelled at you as you got up from your chair, giving your ankle a few twists.

You ignored him, bending down to put on your heeled slippers. He tried to lift his arm, grab the paper.

He NEEDED to know.

You waltzed to the side table, the feathery hem of your night robe grazing the marble of the floor as you sheathed the knife back and draped it around your neck. Your hand grabbed the bottle of wine and you turned on your heels, fabric bellowing softly behind you in a flurry of black. His hand fell to his side, paper crumpled in his fingers as he struggled to hold it long enough to see.

“Oi,” he snapped with urgency. “Woman, what does it say?”

“Who knows,” you said in a singsong, humming a random tune below your breath. You moved to the door. “I didn’t understand it myself.” You crossed the threshold to the corridor.

Zoro panicked. Fuck. What did it say?

“Woman,” he yelled after you. “Fuck, come back here.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It took three days for Roronoa Zoro to decipher the contents of that newspaper, but he had figured it out. To your amusement, he was now sitting on the floor, his features etched with determination as he eyed your brother. You arched an eyebrow, barely hiding your smile behind the rim of your wine glass.

You looked at him curiously, the intrigue of his actions somehow extremely entertaining. Your gaze flickered to his face. It was easy to forget how young he was through that wall of will power. But as his mouth moved silently, as if rehearsing something, the softness of his traits hit you. He was pretty, you guessed, with his barely noticeable freckles and stubborn fire in his eyes. You cocked your head. Maybe even handsome if you were to put him in better clothes… after all those earrings of his. You licked your lips. Yes. You rather liked them.

“So, Zoro,” you drawled out, breaking the quiet atmosphere ruling over the room. “Did you figure out the code, or are you still trying to stare it into submission?”

Silence dragged on as he ignored you, but the twitch of a scowl that passed his mouth was answer enough for you. How adorable.

"Please," Zoro finally said, his voice uncharacteristically humble as he bowed his head toward Mihawk. "Train me as a swordsman!"

You choked on your sip of wine, coughing as you struggled to regain your composure. Perona let out a small, shocked gasp, her eyes wide with surprise. You glanced at your brother, trying to read his expression. His attention flickered toward you briefly, making sure you were alright before returning to his glass, making the younger swordsman wait. Oho , there was unmistakable displeasure in his gaze as he peered into the red liquid, swirling it absentmindedly.

“Are you asking your enemy for instruction?” Mihawk finally said, his eyes still avoiding Zoro. “I’m disappointed in you, Roronoa,” he admitted. “Shame on you.” You listened, entirely engrossed by the scene before you. It was by far the most entertainment you’d had in the past decade. It was rare to see Mihawk so expressive. It made you wonder what he truly thought of the man before him to react so. “I think I overestimated you,” he continued, his words punctuated by a long sip from his wine glass. “Get out of here. I have no time for a boring man.”

Oh, how you wished you could see the boy’s expression. You bet it was priceless. You noticed how he obstinately didn’t budge, his jaw tightening. Yet, he was not backing down. The weight of Mihawk’s scorn seemed to press on him, but his resolve was unshattered. You heard the unsteady breath he took in before continuing.

“I want to get stronger,” he cried out, somehow digging his forehead more intensely into the marble floor.

Mihawk considered his plea as he filled his wine glass, the sound loud in the uncomfortable silence. “You were beaten by the baboons. I have nothing to teach someone like that.”

"I beat the baboons," Zoro declared, his voice reverberating through the room.

Oh! Interesting. You watched as clear shock registered on your brother's face. It was a rare sight, seeing Mihawk genuinely surprised. You couldn't help but smile; it was a reminder that even the world's greatest swordsman was human.

Mihawk’s gaze finally settled on Zoro, who was bowing deeply before him. The tension in the air was palpable.

"But I’m not so stupid as to think that I’m good enough to beat you," Zoro continued when the silence stretched on.

Mihawk's confusion was evident in his furrowed brow. "Then why are you bowing to me and asking for my guidance?"

Zoro took a moment to consider the question. "I want to beat you," he said simply, his voice unwavering. The straightforwardness of his answer was almost comical, and you couldn't suppress a giggle. Somehow, your amusement seemed to lighten Mihawk's expression as well.

"You’re asking me to train a swordsman who wants to kill me?" Mihawk laughed heartily, the sound loud and rich. “(Y/n),” he turned to you. “Teach Perona how to treat him, you’ve already done more than required of a graceful host.”

You hummed in consideration. “I suppose I can,” you eyed the pink haired girl with slight annoyance.

She flinched at the coldness of your stare, her mouth opening in protest.

"And you, ghost girl, learn to treat him," Mihawk called out to Perona, before she could say anything. "The training will begin when you’re recovered," he added, turning back to Zoro.

Perona floated over, a mixture of curiosity and irritation on her face. "Fine, but don’t expect me to be nice about it," she grumbled, already on her way out. “Oi, you dumbass, come with me.”

Zoro straightened up, a determined glint in his eyes as he followed her out.

“You’re enjoying yourself, Brother,” you couldn’t help but muse as you filled your wine glass.

Mihawk's stare met yours, and for a brief moment, you saw the glimmer of amusement there. He took another sip, his demeanor returning to its usual stoic calm. "Perhaps," he admitted, the word hanging in the air between you like a rare treasure.

You leaned back in your chair, peering into the velvety darkness in your glass thoughtfully. "He's got spirit, I'll give him that," you remarked, watching the door through which Zoro and Perona had just exited. "Do you really believe he'll be worth your time? You’ve never taken anyone under your wing before."

Mihawk's gaze remained on the swirling liquid in his glass, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. "He reminds me of someone," he mused quietly, almost to himself.

Curiosity piqued, you leaned forward slightly. "Oh? And who might that be?"

For a moment, you thought he wouldn't answer. But then, with a small, nearly imperceptible smile, he said, "Myself."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, the sound ringing through the room. "I see.”

Next Chapter

Masterlist

#Port Wine and Sake #one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #one piece fanfiction #charlou writes

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hrefna-the-raven · 1 year ago

Text

Fallout masterlist

Link to main masterlist

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

Deacon x sole survivor

Bona Fides

a few drabbles about Deacon and his desperate attempt to hide his growing love for you

Part 1

Robert MacCready x Sole survivor

Heart for hire

It has been some time ago since MacCready and you found each other when you first stepped into the Third Rail. On the same day, after a year, you met again, same spot, same time to cherish in the memory of your first encounter.

Part 1

Elder Arthur Maxson x Knight reader

Heart of Steel

You are a former soldier before the Great War, frozen in the vault only to wake in a world you didn't recognise anymore with your husband killed and your son kidnapped. You stumble through the Commonwealth, having searched far and wide with Detective Valentine for your son until you stumble upon Paladin Danse at the Police station. His Brotherhood wakens your desire to belong somewhere again and so you join them, but upon meeting Elder Maxson you weren't sure anymore if it really was the right decision....

Chapter 1 - Welcome to the Brotherhood of Steel

Chapter 2 - Tour of Duty

Chapter 3 - Show no mercy

Chapter 4 - Something's gotta give (18+)

Chapter 5 - Don't let me be misunderstood

Chapter 6 - Dream a little dream

Chapter 7 - Dangerous minds

Chapter 8 - Why do fools fall in love?

Chapter 9 - The morning-after-date (18+)

Chapter 10 - Institutionalized

Chapter 11 - Blind Betrayal

Chapter 12 - A flame in your heart

Chapter 13 (final chapter) - A new dawn

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maxson as Sole Survivor playthrough:

Screenshots

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

The hunt

You were sent to retrieve a precious item, but so was the most notorious bounty hunter in the Wasteland...

(set before he ends up in that grave)

Chapter 1 - The plan

Chapter 2 - The bounty

Chapter 3 - The spoils (18+)

Chapter 4 - The betrayal

Porter Gage x female sole survivor

The dress (18+)

(Marcosito) Cito x sole survivor

Headcanons - Falling in love

Mason x reader

Favourite

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thesecretcornerintheroom · 1 year ago

Text

Don’t forget about me

Pairing: Kid (Dev Patel) x Female reader

Warnings: Tears, blood and injuries, angst and a lot of smut

🔞+

Word count: 1,897

CRASH! That’s the sound u heard that awoke u from your sleep. It was a hot summer night. The only sound in your room was an old fan running at the highest setting and the crickets from outside. You turn to the window, shocked to see your nightstand chaotic with all your belongings knocked over, the window wide open, and you look to the floor to see Kid sitting under the window, panting and holding his side. “did I wake you?” He said through quick breaths. His eye closed from sweat getting in, and his other eye squinting at you. You looked at kid's hand clutching his side, realizing he was bleeding. “Oh my god, what happened?” you said, discarding your thin bed sheets, running over to the window, closing it, and pulling the curtain forward, squatting next to him to meet his eyes on the floor. You grabbed his face, looking for any more bruises out of the ordinary from what he would usually get in a fight. He had a slight cut above his eye and a bruise on his arm, but the worst was the cut on his side. At least you prayed it was just a cut. You quickly put your arm under him to lift him “quickly to the bathroom.” as he rose, he grunted.

“I’m assuming you did more than just fight tonight,” you said, focusing more on the needle penetrating his skin with the thread to close the open gage on his side. Cause him to grunt in pain and take a breath. Kid was leaning on the sink now with his shirt removed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips with his damp hair covering his face, peering down at you. Your curls were pulled back, and all you had on was an oversized t-shirt. “I think I’m getting closer to finding him,” he said, his voice deep but calm. You finished sewing him up. “You're not even close to him yet, and you're already hurt. This can only end worse,” you said, looking him in the eye. You knew his situation, you knew who he was talking about, and you hated that his heart was this unsettled, but you couldn’t blame him. “Take a shower. It’s too late at night for you to go home, and seeing how you came through my window and not the front door, I’m assuming you're not safe,” you said, looking him in the eye and his deep brown eyes they held so much emotion and thoughts you knew he was exhausted.

You were in your bed, the hot air sticking to you. You recounted how you got here and met the Kid. You were conducting a research study on poverty and culture. The affects it has on different marginalized countries. That’s how you ended up in India. You meet Kid because you were snooping in places you weren’t supposed to be. You asked questions to some dangerous men. Kid who was secretly stalking you because he watched everyone in the community, he came in and saved you. Ever since he’s been in contact with you (it’s been three months, and you have one more month left), you felt the bed dip beside you.

Taking your eyes off the beige wall of peeling paint, you turned to see a kid in bed lying on his back, his hair wet from the shower. He didn’t have a shirt, a patch adorned his stitches, and he wore a pair of shorts you washed the last time he came over from one of his excursions . His eyes were glossy and heavy and slowly turned to you. “I have to do this. He didn’t even know her name.” His voice was heavy. You turned to place your hands on his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as the tears fell from his face.” “You’re gonna let this consume you, and I’m afraid of how this will end,” I whispered. He looked at you, his eyes saying everything. If I asked him not to hunt down the man who changed his life for the worse, he would have felt torn. I knew the idea of not getting revenge was too strong over choosing me. I let out a deep sigh, holding back my tears. “This will be our last night like this,” you said, your voice dry. You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. Kid's eyes became heavy, his body rigid. He softly shook his head. No, he knew what you meant by it being our last night. You leaned over, slowly adjusting to the thick air. Your nose met his nose as we kissed. A deep sigh was released from him. He drew the kiss as he rose from the bed, placing his hand on your thigh, gripping your thigh. You let out a gasp. You could feel the textures of his scared palms on your skin and how rough and warm they felt on your skin, taking mental notes of how that felt cause you knew you wouldn’t be feeling this forever.

I kissed him harder before pulling away. “you gotta be careful; you still hurt.” Before I could even regain my breath, he was kissing me again roughly, causing me to whimper. He kissed me as though he knew the moment couldn’t last forever. I felt like I saw stars from how great the kiss felt. “ lay down,” you said softly. Kid looked at you. He lay back down on his back, Kid, usually quiet, but you could tell he was lost for words. You rose off of the bed a little bit to remove your panties as you sling your legs over his waist. You sat on top of his lap, and you felt his hands slowly move from the side of your thighs to grabbing your waist.

You slowly started to move on his lap, your core rubbing up against his clothed member, causing him to moan.” Shit,” he said, his voice dry. You're where grinding on him at a steady pace, trying not to to hurt him. You could feel his member growing hard with his shorts and you becoming wetter. You grabbed his chin to have him look him in your eyes as you leaning over him so you lips caressed his. His mouth opened softly, panting from the feeling you were stirring up within him. You started to move your hips faster. “ promise me you’ll be safe. You said, your lips touching his as he let out soft moans. “Okay, yes, okay,” he said, moaning, looking me in my eyes. “ when this is done, you come to me, okay? You know where I’ll be,” you said, looking deep into his eyes, knowing he understood exactly what you meant.” he nodded yes, breathing deeply. He grabbed you and flipped you on your back now on the mattress. His eyes darkened, and his body glistened with sweat. “okay,” he said before he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and removed it from you. He disregarded his pants. He lowered his head to her neck. His teeth lightly grazed your skin before he nipped at your spot, causing you to moan. As he teased the spot on your neck, moans slipped from your mouth. He started to work his way slowly down his body, leaving bites and kisses on the way down your body, leaving you to shiver as his warm

Lips touched your body you felt the breeze from the fan was in your room take away his warm kisses. Before you knew it, the kid had your legs open, and his hands wrapped around your leg. You gasped moan as you felt him drag his teeth down your inner thigh, kissing and licking your inner thigh. The sting causes you to gasp in surprise from pain, followed by pleasure. You realized he was leaving a hickie on your inner thigh. Uuuh, you said, putting your fingers in his hair near the nape of his neck. “Don’t you forget about me,” he said in a deep voice. Before you could respond, he was blowing on your clit before he went in for a kiss on your clit, causing your body to rise off the bed. You felt his tounge circle your clit back and forth back and forth at a fast pace.was he? Was he making out with your clit? “Please, please, you cried out as he started to suck on your clit. You could feel yourself becoming wet, pooling around his mouth and dripping down your legs. You started to move your hip, subconsciously gripping the sheets. You were panting. No words were coming out. The only sound to be heard was a Kid grunting and your panting, and the sound of the silver fan running in the room. You could feel your breath begin to form in your stomach. “dont stop,” you said, loving this feeling of a tear forming in your eye. “Please, you croaked.”’you could feel Kid doing everything, licking, kissing, penetrating you with his tongue. You were unraveling so fast. The feeling finally hit you, causing you to moan. You felt the release, and your head was dizzy. The air was thick—you were trying to gain your breath. Kid moved back up to your face and kissed your nose. “I’ll find you again, I promise he said, looking into your tear-stained eyes. He entered you without a second thought, looking you in your eyes cause tear-stained eyes were now blurred, and you rolled them at the feeling of him interning you. He grabbed your one leg and brought it to his hip. His hip was now controlling the pace going in you at a steady pace; you were kissing your mind. “Come for me again, okay he said,” as his pace became more demanding. My moan became louder, his eyes not leaving my mind as his face fell into

My face. I love you, Kid said, his brown eyes holding so many emotions. Promise me you’ll still want me, he said as he went faster. The feeling of his warmth inside of me made me bite my lip and moan, his hips moving at a faster pace. He wrapped my leg in his

Waist as his finger played with my clit he started to Let out a slow moan, “Say it,” causing me to gasp, clasping onto his arm. “I love you I said, strained, focusing on this feeling. My body had this sensation that I knew wouldn’t last forever, but I wish it could last a lifetime. As he’s playing with my clit and his hips are moving, I can feel his movements becoming erratic. He let out low grunts. “Shit,” I said, that feeling turning in my stomach agin my legs started to shake “im finna cum” I said, and he grunted in agreement. The feeling was powerful. The air was thick, and our moans were in sync. We both were coming at the same time. I wrapped my leg around kid and brought him

Closer to me, he came within me. I felt the warmth of him within me. He was panting, eyes big, looking at what we had just done. He removed his still-swollen member from me

Seeing both of our juices together inside

I am now pooling on the bed. “Now I have to

Come back to you,” he said, sitting on the bed and looking me in the eyes.

#smut #imagine #monkey man #dev patel imagine #monkey man imagine #Dev Patel #I watched the movie for Dev but stayed for the plot #here’s a random story I made last night #enjoy #I also been wanting to write a dev Patel fanfic cause there’s not a lot on this app #😘🥰

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teamhappyme · 1 year ago

Text

an adjustment period

josh lyman x female!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: politically inaccurate portrayal of the white house, aka the west wing, projecting all my feelings onto josh lyman

a/n: me? posting two fics in one month? groundbreaking. I really am in my josh lyman era sue me idc.

“He will call you back at his next availability. I don’t know when that will be, Congressman.” You pulled the phone away from your ear as the Congressman yelled at you through the receiver. “I will let him know. Thank you, have a nice day Congressman.”

You slammed the receiver against the base until the rest of the communications bullpen looked over at you.

“I swear to god,” you mumbled to yourself as you barged into Sam’s office. “This is the first and last time I ever fill in for Ginger. Congressman who-gives-a-shit wants you to call him back at your earliest convenience.”

Sam looked up from his briefing, a small smirk on his face. “You would rather help me with research for the state of the union than answer my phone? I’m shocked.”

“Sam, if you don’t give me back my encyclopedia and the keys to my office,”

“Relax,” he interrupted, throwing your keys back to you which you caught easily. “I have a meeting in the oval, walk me there and I’ll give you your precious encyclopedia.”

“Fine.”

You walked through the communications bullpen, bumping into a frantic Kathy juggling a stack of papers in her hands.

“Sam owes you lunch everyday for the next two weeks until he leaves,” you told her, a small smile spreading over her face. “And if he tries to give you a hard time, call me, and then the President.”

“I’m not made of money, you know.” Sam piped in while leading you back into the route of the Oval Office.

“I have three words for you: Gage Whitney Partner.”

“Touché.”

The two of you rounded the corner past Josh’s office, and you couldn’t help but peer in to see if he was there.

It was a habit that started first out of survival. In the beginning of your tenure in the west wing you couldn’t walk past Josh’s office without him singing the Yale fight song. Then, after a heated argument in the Roosevelt room between the two of you over the relevance of the Oxford comma, you took every opportunity to occupy his free time to support your argument in favor of the beloved punctuation mark.

Four years had gone by, and somewhere along the way, the small squabbles turned into advice sessions on policy or speech writing. Sometimes, if either of you were feeling sentimental, you would share stories of your times at Yale.

Over time, it became part of your everyday routines to check in on one another, and it was one of the best parts of your day.

Behind writing speeches for the President of the United States, of course.

“Remind me to edit the concluding paragraphs of the President's speech to the education forum. Toby told me I’ve been using too much passive voice.”

“You do use too much passive voice.”

He stopped in front of Charlie’s desk, glaring at you for the comment.

“Hey, I like the passive voice as much as you, but Toby hates it, therefore I don’t use it.”

“He’ll be ready for you in a minute.” Charlie told Sam before leaving his desk for the Oval.

“Hey, have you guys found a new you yet? Toby has gone through like ten interviews and half of them left looking like they were going to cry.” You said as Charlie waved him in to the Oval. “I mean, the solution to this would be to not have you leave and become a congressman, because that’s boring and you can’t even write your own speeches. In fact, that’s exactly what you should do.”

You walked him to the doorway of the oval, waiting for him to hand you your encyclopedia that had been held hostage.

“Why don’t you come and join me and the President, he would like to be the one to tell you who we picked.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? You know I have absolutely no patience for these things.”

He didn’t answer you, instead he looked into the Oval Office, a small smile on his face. You looked in after him, curious as to what he was so amused with.

All you saw was the President leaning against his desk, staring at the two of you, I’m sure not happy to be kept waiting.

“I don’t have all day you know,” President Bartlet joked before waving you both in.

Wait a minute.

“Sam,” You looked over at your boss, his smile now grinning from ear to ear. “No, Sam, it can’t-“

“Come on,” he interrupted, pushing you into the oval with a steady hand on your back.

You’d been in here plenty of times; usually with a group of people, and usually not when you’re getting offered the job of a lifetime. But when it’s just you and the President, it’s the most terrifying place in the world.

“I’ve never seen you scared a day in your life, don’t tell me today is the day you decide to be scared of the White House.” The President commented as you tried to relax.

“Well if you offer me a drink from the fancy decanter I can promise you I’ll be a lot less scared, sir.”

You and Sam sat down across from the president, and waited for the rest of your career change.

It was hard for you to listen to anyone praise your work ethic, character, and dedication to your job, let alone from the commander in chief himself. You worked for Toby, so there weren't a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings being spread around. So when the president mentioned that, yes, Sam recommended you for his position, but it was Toby that practically locked him in the Oval Office saying it had to be you, you were more than shocked.

You knew deep down he was a softie.

After accepting the position with absolutely no hesitation, it was off to the races with another meeting for the president.

“Mr. President, just one more question.” You asked as he walked you out. “Is there any way we can rework this position so that Toby answers to me and not the other way around?��

“Dream big,” the President said through his laughter, which brought a smile to your face.

Once you and Sam cleared through Charlie and Mrs. Landingham, you landed a sharp smack to his chest.

“What the hell was that for?” He asked, resting his hand over his hurt chest.

“You couldn’t have told me that you were going to nominate me for your job? Or that the president was going to offer me the job himself in the Oval Office?!”

“Well, then I wouldn’t be able to see your anxious shaking and clammy hands as the President raves about you.”

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and the smile quickly returned to your face.

“You deserve this. I’m just sad I won’t be able to see you and Josh fight in Senior Staff meetings.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll be visiting you on the hill.”

Sam walked you back to your office and handed you the responsibility of finishing the President’s remarks for tonight’s Town Hall meeting.

“If it isn’t the new Deputy Communications Director in the flesh.”

Josh was waiting for you in your office, holding a gold box in his hand while swiveling around in your office chair.

“Technically we’re equals now, so I can tell you to get the hell out of my chair without fear of losing my job.”

“Technically, I outrank you, but since you don’t answer to me, I’ll let it slide.” He stood up from your chair, moving to stand across from you. “Did you quake under the stress of wondering what the president wanted from you?”

“Did you come here to congratulate me or make fun of me?” You asked, a smirk appearing on his face. “And is that present in your hand for me or your new accessory?”

“Do you have to ruin all the fun?” He commented and handed you the present.

You opened the box, taking out the tissue paper to reveal a book, The Social Contract to be exact.

“I know we both went to Yale, but I’m not sure I share the same affinity for the literature of Rousseau that you do, I’m more of an Austen or Didion kind of gal.” You joked.

“I thought I’d get you something that you could quote from in your State of the Union address. You know the President loves the cheese.”

You opened the cover of the book to find a note from Josh written on the inside. There were butterflies in your stomach before you read the first word, because that’s just the effect he had on you.

The relationship you shared with Josh is one that you greatly cherished. Your work rarely overlapped, being an underling of Sam in the communications department didn’t leave a lot of room for talking major policy with Josh. But after your own squabbles, and then overhearing a debate between you and Toby only days into your tenure at the White House, he quickly found any reason to work with you.

He would volunteer to work on research with you when he had any spare time, and he always requested you when he needed an extra hand when heading over to the Hill. You finally asked him about it a few months into the arrangement, and he shrugged before admitting he’d never seen someone stand up to Toby like that.

“You’re gonna go further than a speech writer in the communications department. One day I think you may run this whole building.”

You read aloud from his note, the same thing he said to you three years ago on your walk to the Hill.

You didn’t think he meant it then, and you surely can’t believe it now.

“I told you I’m good with words, Sam and Toby just never give me a chance.”

You closed the book, the weight of this new position pushing you back against your desk. You’re senior staff now. You’re in charge. You are going to be in the room where it happens.

“What if I’m not good at it.” You admitted in the open air.

“Hold on-“ Josh tried to interrupt you.

“Sam, Toby, and the President of the United States just told me they want me for this job. I don’t have a law degree, Josh. I have a Bachelor’s degree in English and a Masters in Political Science from Yale, but I don’t make laws. I don’t have an illustrious career in politics, I’m not even a head speechwriter for Christ’s sake. I crumble under the image of the Oval Office, and unless I’m correcting Toby’s grammar, I don’t particularly like to debate with people. I am going to be in charge of a department, responsible for people to get things done the way I want. I barely get things done the way I want. I am not going to be good at this.”

“Hey, I went to Yale, don’t drag her down.”

You threw him a look as he moved from his spot in the doorway.

“For the last three years, I’ve watched you handle more crises and speeches than any other deputy in the communications office. Sure, the President showered you with compliments for your writing skills, but it’s you, the person behind the speeches, who is going to make real change here.”

“Josh,” you protested, your voice becoming a whisper as you grew uncomfortable with the accolades once again.

“I’m serious,” he began, moving to stand in front of you. “No one ends up in the West Wing by chance. You were meant to be here. And I have no doubt in my mind that you are going to run this building one day.”

You shook your head, letting your hair fall in front of your face to shield Josh from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. No one has ever believed in you like Josh does.

“Hey,” he worriedly said, slowly reaching for your hand. “What’s really bothering you?”

You looked down at your hands, fingers laced with his for what felt like the hundredth time. The line was always a bit blurred with Josh. You worked on so many projects together, spending hours on end in one office or another. Three years of small spaces and critical decision making led to post-meeting breakdowns, confiding in people you spent hours on end with.

Josh quickly became your person at work, and after the shooting, you became his. Neither of you spoke of it, you just knew that he would be there for you whenever you needed it. Josh knew it all, from screaming matches with Toby, to family emergencies, and the never ending question of what your purpose in life is, which was looming over everyone’s head that worked in the West Wing.

You had always felt something more for Josh. Maybe you read too much into it when he would walk you home from a late night event at the White House, or how he would call you in the middle of the night to get your thoughts on how to best proceed with policy. It was easy between you two, and with Bartlett’s second term in the White House now halfway through, you thought this friendship would finally shift to something more.

But now that you were equals, senior advisors to the President, holding extreme responsibilities for the republic in your hands, you knew that the dynamic would change. There was no room to slide into a new relationship.

“Things are going to change now, between us. And I know that nothing has really been said but, I’d like to think something was… shifting into more.” Your voice trailed off at the end, embarrassment taking over.

“There was.” Josh reassured you, a small smile breaking over his face.

You nodded, and in an attempt to hide the goofy smile crossing your own face, you continued to look down at your hands. You reached out for his other hand, which he gladly surrendered to you.

“Things don’t have to be different. There are no rules against a devilishly handsome Deputy Chief of Staff dating a gorgeous Deputy Communications Director.” He joked, trying to get a laugh out of you.

He was right, there really wasn’t a rule against it. And if there was, you’re sure it had been broken before.

“I’m sure you’re right. But if I really want to make a difference here, I need to focus on this job, and not be distracted by an annoying Deputy Chief of Staff.”

“I understand,” he said with a smile, giving your hands a squeeze. “And I think a two month adjustment period is plenty of time before I ask you out on a date.”

“Josh,” you said through a laugh, “Are you really that impatient you need to put a timetable on it?”

“Yes. Four months sound better?”

“Six months.” you said, but as you looked at him longer, you knew you couldn’t possibly last that long. “With a check-in at the three month mark to see how I’m adjusting.”

“That sounds like a great plan.”

A great plan indeed.

To an outsider, the two of you looked like school kids interacting with their first crush. And that’s exactly how you felt, butterflies in your stomach and your brain all fuzzy.

“Josh!” You could hear Toby yelling through your closed office door, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“You’re Director is a real pain in my ass.”

“I tried to get his job while I was in there, but the President said no.”

He laughed and tried to pull away, but you held on to his hand even tighter.

“Josh,” he turned back to you, and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him. It took him a minute, but his arms wrapped around your waist, and you finally felt like you could do this. “Thank you for the book.”

“You’re welcome. You’ve got this.” He said and dropped a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek before pulling away. “I’ve gotta go find the dictator before he breaks every door down.”

“Go ahead, I’m going to spare myself from him for as long as I can.”

“Ok, I’ll see you in Senior Staff tomorrow morning. Newbie brings a full breakfast.” he joked.

“In your dreams,” you said with a roll of your eyes as he went to exit your office.

“You really are going to do great here.” He winked and wrapped his knuckles on the doorframe before yelling into the bullpen himself for Toby.

Yeah, there’s no way you guys are lasting six months.

****

#josh lyman x reader #josh lyman fic #josh lyman #the west wing #the west wing fanfiction

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deliciousbasementtrash · 2 years ago

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist: Donna Floyd

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. There has been an emergency and you have been called into the line of fire. How will the Fam react?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, creepy perv man, gunshots, violence, killing

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part 8: Pizza Joe's

Once again, days passed without seeing Jason. Embarrassment flared inside me at the thought of our last interaction. I wasn’t one that enjoyed crying in front of people. And I hadn’t just cried, I had wailed, and choked, with spit and most likely snot leaking from my face. It wasn’t a cute poetic actress single tear sniffle. It was ugly and loud. Whatever. It’s not like I want a relationship. I’ve worked hard to obtain my peace. I don’t want a man to come in and disrupt the life I’ve worked hard to build.

I grabbed gauze packets and shoved them into my chart, trying to distract my thoughts. I had completely run through them when Duke came in with several lacerations and broken ribs from the Black Mask. I shivered when Duke told me the details. The mob boss was sadistic and cruel, Duke had barely gotten away. I couldn’t meet Duke’s eyes after that. I’ve healed the Black Mask countless times. Guilt gnawed at my bones. Duke was injured because I kept that monster alive. And how many others? That line of delightful thinking always leads me straight into a downward spiral. Quickly, I grabbed more 16 gages and refilled those as well.

This past week has been relentlessly busy. It felt like it was a full moon every night with the amount of insanity that happened. Even for Gotham. It felt like every one of Gotham’s plentiful villains had some sort of scheme, disastrous plan, or some way to ‘conquer the world.’ It made both my jobs a living hell.

I was a walking zombie. I would sleep at my workstation and be woken up by the Batmobile screeching in with more injuries that needed to be healed. Bruce was almost always back and forth anywhere from 4-10 times a night. It sometimes felt like he was more reckless with me around. Throwing himself into danger more than he did in the beginning. Or maybe I was just overthinking it.

A chime on my phone interrupted my thoughts.

[Bruce has seven gunshot wounds. He isn’t stable enough to travel. We are on 717 Street behind Pizza Joe's. Be careful the shoot-out is still happening.]

The bright screen burned my tired eyes. The second the words sank in I grabbed the emergency kit and my keys and ran. I never treated them outside of the Batcave. They had always come to me. It must be bad.

I drove like a maniac and got there in record time. 8 minutes. 8 minutes of Bruce bleeding out. 8 minutes of more shooting and how many more injuries. A fucking lot can happen in just 8 minutes. Panic rose in my chest, but I swallowed it down. Countless gunshots popped around me, lucky enough for me, none were aiming for my car.

I got out quickly, grabbed my gear, and ran toward the back of the shittiest pizza in Gotham. The blue on Dick’s suit stood out like a beacon as he motioned me over. My black scrubs and dark zip-up hoody instantly got soaked through with rain. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the rain or gunshots that rang out around me like popcorn kernels on the stove. I cared about the physical state of Bruce Wayne.

It was bad. With the rain puddle around him, it was hard to determine the amount of blood loss. I got to work instantly. I threw my bag to Dick and put my hands on Bruce.

“I need you to stuff his wounds with gauze. I’m going to replenish his blood and then I need you to take the gauze out one by one, so when I heal him they aren’t inside him. Understand?” I asked as I let my powers take over.

“I understand,” Dick said and got to work just as quickly as I did. That was before more shots rang out. Hitting the brick wall just above my head.

“Fuck!” Dick yelled, grabbing his batoons. “They are closer now!”

I felt my body start to shake as I forced it to heal Bruce faster, “Who the fuck is ‘they?’’

“Black Mask’s men. They are shooting to kill,” Dick said, standing up and blocking me and Bruce from the new onset of bullets.

“Get down or I’ll have to heal you both!” I hissed at him.

“I need to get them away from you guys,” and without a second word, Dick ran toward the bullets.

“Dick! Don’t–” I knew he couldn’t hear my begging screams. My best bet was to heal Bruce as fast as possible, we both help Dick, and escape via my shitty car.

I was close too. Bruce’s blood was replenished, and five out of his seven gunshot wounds were closed Albiet the work was sloppy, but he would live.

That was before I felt the unmistakable coolness against the back of my head. My blood ran cold, and I pushed harder to heal Bruce faster.

“Stop whatever it is you’re doing or I’m going to blow your brains out,” a man said. His voice was oddly distorted.

I didn’t listen. I kept healing Bruce. Any minute now. Please. Please. He pressed the gun parallel to my cheek and fired. It burned hot against my face. I tasted metal and gunpowder. My ear was ringing louder than church bells. Hesitantly, I raised my hands.

“That’s it. Be a good bitch and stand up,” He said, digging the barrel harder into the back of my skull. Fear spiked inside me. I knew he would recognize me, but what choice did I have?

Slowly, I stood.

“Turn around,” the brute ordered.

Slowly, I turned.

A low, mocking laugh escaped from his skull mask. “My, my. Little Miss Y/f/n? Everyone was wondering where you had run off to! Turns out your the Bats personal whore!” I saw his eyes trail me up and down. Disgusting oily unease filled inside me. “You have a woman’s body now.”

Anger surged, making my blood feel like it was boiling. I slowly unzipped my hoody. The fool's eyes were transfixed on the sight. So much so that he didn’t realize that I was grabbing my medical scissors from my back pocket.

In one fluid motion, I grabbed the scissors, and the next I had them stabbed into Black Mask’s throat. Before he could react I withdrew the scissors, resulting in blood being sprayed across my body and face.

The Black Mask didn’t seem to care about his spurting neck. He reached out and gripped my throat, hard. He ruthlessly squeezed until it felt like my lungs would pop and my eyes would pop out of their sockets. Weakly, I tried to kick and scratch him. He merely laughed in my face, spraying more blood all over me.

From his pocket, he grabbed a knife. “You know how long I’ve wanted to play with you? Your father would never let me. But Daddy isn’t here, is he?” With a practiced grace, he sliced my forearm open. Earning a weak hissing breath of pain.

He trailed the knife over my chest, slowly adding more and more pressure.

I tried screaming for Dick, but he was too far away fighting with everything he had. Bruce was still unconscious.

I reached for this throat, trying to scratch him. I dug my index finger into his stab wound making him cry out in pain and anger and release the pressure he held against my neck. Air was a sweet joy in my lungs.

Pain flashed across my head as the Black Mask whipped me with the back of his gun. He pushed the gun into my mouth, and for the second time that night, I tasted gunpowder.

A loud shot rang out. Two shots. Three. Four. Five.

And the pressure was off me. The Black Mask fell backward. Taking his gun with him. Panicked I looked around for the source.

There, standing above Bruce, was the Red Hood. The rain was tinking against the metal. His chest heaved harshly up and down. And in his hands, he held two smoking guns. His expression was carved in a permanent scowl, but everything about him radiated vengeance.

The Black Mask groaned in pain. Without taking his eyes off me Jason shot until both magazines ran out.

I was frozen in place. Jason walked over Bruce’s unconscious body toward me.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He growled, taking me into his arms.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno@killxz@morpheus-girl@redhood414@bungunz@conicoroahre@greenyofthegreens@taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005 @the-lights-are-loud @00hellohello00 @tfygcdy @theblindhag @murkyponds @midnightecko @crookedmakerfury @cosmicqueenieb @deans-spinster-witch

If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: sorry for the late update guys, I wasn't feeling very confident in myself or my writing. I will try to update more frequently! thank you all for your support it means so much.

Hashbrown Cam!

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l8rs-gat0rs · 2 years ago

Note

You're legit the only Eva writer, so I have a cute, fluffy request of the girls helping Eva ask reader out because she's scared of being rejected. I love your work btw, i literally stalk you to make sure i didn't miss anything

The Golden Window

Pairing: Eva x Female reader

Warning(s): none, just Eva overthinking and gallons of fluff, quite a bit of y/n use at first. Sorry if the POV situation is weird, I couldn't get a solid gage of what the POV would be, this is the closest fit.

Summary: Eva turns to the girls for some help telling you that she likes you, but it doesn't go as planned...

Word count: 1.1k

WHAT THE HELLLL. I AM SO HONORED. I have an account stalker :') Ugh no but fr, you're so sweet and thank you so much, I'm always over the moon when people tell me that they like my writing, because it's something I'm genuinely passionate about and love to share. So I hope you like this one too :)It's a bit shorter than my usual fics. (I am so sorry for making you wait literal months for this oh gosh)

PSA: I am giving my editor a break so this is lowkey not edited as great as usual. I apologize if there are any mistakes😭

~~~~Happy Reading!~~~~

Eva sat at the kitchen table, nervously twiddling her fingers distractedly, staring at nothing.

"Eva...Eva!?"

Suddenly her attention snapped to the person in front of her, whose hands were waving in her face.

"Oh shit, sorry Cricket, what's up?" Eva said apologetically.

"What's on your mind? We're usually the ones who are all in our heads" Cricket chuckled.

Eva cringed at the thoughts currently going through her head.

They were all about you, of course.

come onnnn, spit it outttt Cricket urged.

"well... I like..." Eva sighed, she was usually the one helping the other girls with their emotions, but ironically she was struggling with her own emotions.

Cricket put her arm on Eva's shoulder

"Hey, it's alright" She said softly

"I like y/n." Eva said suddenly.

Eva stared into cricket's eyes for a moment as Cricket said nothing.

"Well, we all like y/n..." Cricket said.

"Cricket!" Eva slapped cricket's arm causing the other woman to laugh.

"I'm just fucking with you! okay okay so, what's the problem with that?" Cricket asked curiously.

"I-" Eva cut herself off, frustratedly running her hands through her hair.

"I'm scared to ask her out" she slapped her hands onto the table.

Cricket looked at her and held her chin in her hand as her elbow rested on the table.

"I think this is a job for the group" Cricket smiled.

...

"okay girls, I have gathered you all here today because-"

"Where is y/n?" Salem spoke up.

"I was just getting to that, if you would let me continue Salem" Cricket said with strained politeness.

"oh okay, sorry" Salem said sheepishly.

"As I was saying, I sent y/n out for some groceries because we need to help Eva with something. Cricket continued

all the girl's turned to stare at Eva, who blushed embarassingly.

"we are gonna help Eva here confess her feelings to y/n"

the girls gasped and Eva even heard one "I knew it!"

"okay okay, settle down!, settle down!" Cricket yelled over the women's voices, causing them to quiet down.

"Eva, you have the floor" Cricket continued when it was quiet once again.

Eva cleared her throat and addressed the girls.

"Alright guys so, as Cricket says, I have a crush on y/n... and it's eating me up inside that I don't know how to tell her because I'm scared she doesn't feel the same way."

a few "awwww"s were heard from the girls before Salem spoke up once again.

"I think you should do something big, like maybe buy her chocolates and flowers and leave a letter for her that tells her to go to the garden and then you tell her there" Salem said with a dreamy smile.

"um, no you idiot, y/n will hate that" Isis scowled at her.

"hey, Isis! Eva chided causing Isis to look back at her.

"that wasn't nice, Salem's idea was good" Eva scolded Isis

"apologize to her."

"fine. I'm sorry Salem" Isis rolled her eyes.

"I accept your apology, and forgive you for the harm you have caused" Salem responded tightly.

"Good, but that being said, Salem, even though your idea was good, I also don't think y/n would like that" Eva said gently.

"what if you did it during one of your sessions?" Audrey spoke up.

"No, I can't do that, the session are for you guys and your feelings, I'm not going to make it about my feelings." Eva shook her head.

"I think you should just flat out say it to her some time. Pull her to somewhere private and just speak your feelings to her. That's what you always teach us" Cricket spoke up from Eva's side, uncrossing her arms and placing a hand on Eva's shoulder.

Eva looked at her and smiled a little.

"yeah you're right. Fear is an emotion that I can persevere through as long as I speak my truth." Eva smiled.

"That's the spirit! Right girls!?" Cricket asked the girls sitting in front of them.

A chorus of "yeah!"s and "Yeah! just tell y/n you like her!" could be heard.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and all the girls were startled into silence as they turned to see what had made the noise.

There, standing in the arch leading into the living room was y/n, mouth agape, staring at Eva. She had dropped the bag of groceries she was carrying.

The silence that filled the room was deafening and Eva could practically hear the blood rushing through her body.

Eva was the first to speak up though.

"um, girls, can you uh..." Eva started

before she even finish her sentence, the girls were already quickly getting up and leaving the room. Cricket picked up the bag of groceries and finally left, Eva and you alone.

"Would you sit down please?" Eva said softly, gesturing to the couch.

you nodded and took a seat in front of her before she moved to sit next to you, causing you to turn towards her.

"how much did you hear?" Eva cringed.

you smiled a little,

"I heard enough. 'tell y/n you like her!'" you said in a teasing voice.

Eva put her face in her hands and groaned causing you to giggle a little before gently removing her hands from her face to see her red face.

you looked into her blue eyes that you always seemed to get lost in.

"hey, it's okay" you whispered gently.

Eva found herself getting lost in your warm brown eyes as well.

"it's just that... i don't know, I didn't expect to tell you this soon, I was going to plan it in my head" Eva explained, looking away, feeling embarrassed.

you were silent for a moment, and as Eva was about to turn her head back to you, you took the liberty of doing it yourself, grabbing her chin and connecting your lips to hers.

Eva was surprised at first, but quickly returned the kiss.

Once the two of you separated, you smiled brightly.

"Now are you ready to tell me?" you smirked.

Eva laughed before responding,

"yeah that definitely helps"

"well?" you urged her on.

"y/n, I like you" Eva said with a smile.

"I think you have my answer" you giggled.

"I don't know, I think I need your answer again" Eva said with faux confusion.

You laughed, causing her to do the same as you smacked her gently.

you kissed her once again, reveling in the feel of her soft pink lips that you could never seem to keep your eyes off of.

When you pulled away again, you pressed your forehead to hers and smiled.

"I like you too Eva"

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction writer #gxg #eva x you #eva swarm #eva x reader #fluff #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x reader

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virginsexgod69 · 1 year ago

Text

5| Rebuilding

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary You and Daryl get started on removing the tree that fell through the window, but your mind wanders elsewhere.

cw descriptions of killing walkers, sexy thoughts, female masturbation

note heehee things are spicing up a bit

1.6k words

Series Masterlist

“Daryl, you don’t have to stay jus’ for me. I’ll be fine on my own like I was before.” You really did want him to stay, but you knew he had people to look for. You’d hate to be the reason he never finds them again, so you convinced yourself that you were ready to let him go.

“You want help fixing’ yer cabin?” He asked. You looked at him, confused. Normally, you’d just call a window repairman to come fix it, but nothing was normal about the times you were living in. You didn’t think it was salvageable, and even if it was, you didn’t have the first clue on how to fix it.

“Uh- I..yes?”

“Then I’ma stay an’ help you.” His tone had a sense of finality to it, closing any doors to an argument, so you kept your mouth shut and nodded your head in agreement. You wanted to let him know that he didn’t owe you anything and that was free to go, but then again, it’d be idiotic to turn down such an offer.

You and Daryl stood at the side of your cabin where the tree fell, watching as the undead mindlessly stumbled around in that area, some even tripping over the fallen tree. He nodded his head in their direction as if to say it was time to kill them, so you nodded your head in agreement. Hearing crack after crack of their skulls shattering beneath your sledgehammer was gratifying. You weren’t even phased by the blood that splattered on you. It was almost therapeutic, the way you channeled all your anger into each swing of the tool. The anger from your husband leaving you alone with a child and a baby during a fucking apocalypse so he could live out his fantasies with your best friend. The anger from a tree crashing into your house, destroying some of the little memories you had left of your babies. The feeling of Daryl’s warm hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your rage filled haze. You looked around to see all of the bodies dead on the ground. Your eyes focused in on the sight in front of you, the corpse before you’s head was obliterated into an unrecognizable pulp. Pieces of bloody brain fragments decorated the lush, green grass and partially your clothing, too. You glanced away from it and looked into Daryl’s concerned baby blues instead.

“I’m great!” you promised, stepping away from him and the carcass at your feet. You really were feeling a lot better. Maybe it was because you were finally out in the sunshine after days of stormy weather or because Daryl stayed to help you, or because killing all those undead helped you release a lot of steam.

“How should we get started!?” You asked with cheerily with a wide smile splitting your face in half. You were sure you looked something out of a horror movie, covered in blood and brains, smiling almost psychotically. Slightly perturbed, Daryl glanced away before looking back at you.

“Got any axes or anythin’? We gotta get this tree outta here,” he explained.

You left and came back with two axes after searching your house for a moment or two. The tingle you felt in your spine from brushing fingers with Daryl as you handed him an axe lifted your spirits even more. You followed his lead as he hacked at pieces of the tree. Piece by piece, there was less and less tree protruding through the window.

The hot, Georgia sun beaming on your skin was increasingly uncomfortable. You were sweating bullets and desperately needed a break, but as long as Daryl was working you would, too. You glanced over at Daryl to gage how he was doing only to have your breath taken from you. The sunlight glistened off his tanned, sweaty arms, only accentuating the way his muscular biceps flexed with every swing of the axe. His chocolate brown hair dripped with sweat, making him look downright delicious. You needed to focus on the task at hand! You ripped your eyes away from him and got back to chopping wood, this time, more ferociously as you tried to force those thoughts of Daryl out of your head. He must’ve gotten to a particularly difficult piece, because you heard him grunt each time he forced the axe out from being lodged into the wood. The sound made your mind wonder, imagining if those were the noises he made in bed. The pulsating throb you felt in your core forced you to drop the axe and step away.

“I’ma get us some waters,” you rushed out before hurrying off into the cabin. You gulped down your bottle of water as if it would cleanse your mind of those previous thoughts. Seeing Daryl like that made you realize it had been a small eternity since you’ve had sex, even before the world turned upside down. It felt weird to have this side of you awakened again, but a good weird. But nothing good lasts, especially not these days, so you buried those thoughts and desires deep down within. You polished off the water and grabbed a bottle for Daryl before heading back out.

When you came back outside, Daryl was tossing the some of the last parts of the tree out of your window. He wiped the sweat from his forehead before gratefully accepting the water from you. He uncapped the plastic bottle before bringing it to his lips and chugging it. You watched as streams of water escaped the corners of his mouth and leaked down his chin and dripped onto his chest, sliding down until it met the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. The thoughts came flooding back tenfold and you and to had turn away.

"Sun's settin'. We can finish tomorrow," he said as he stretched his sore arms.

"I thought we did finish?" you questioned. Your whole body was a sore, sweaty, bloody mess. The thought of more work made your back hurt. You stretched your sore limbs as you stared at the orangey sky, enjoying the cool evening breeze against your damp skin.

"Gotta board it up, unless you want walkers gettin' in," he said as if it were obvious, which it kind of was, but your brain was tired.

"You call them things walkers?" you asked, laughter hidden in your voice.

"Yeah? Wha's wrong with tha?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothin', but I mean they do a whole hell of a lot more than walk..."

"Well wha' do you call 'em, then?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Never thought to name 'em, just call them 'the undead'." You glanced back up at the sky, admiring the beauty that had been hidden behind thick storm clouds for the past week. You glanced over at Daryl and saw him quickly turn away from you and look at the sunset too.

"I'm gonna go in and take a shower. You're free to use it when I'm done, if you'd like." And with that, you were off to the cabin.

Once you locked the bathroom door behind you, you quickly shed off your disgusting, bloody, sweaty clothes and hopped in the shower, turning on the cold water. Without electricity, cold water was the only option, but you were grateful to have running water at all. You stared at the floor, watching as the dried blood was rinsed off your body, staining the water pink until it finally faded to clear again. The thoughts of Daryl from earlier resurfaced, making you want to bang your head against the wall. You felt guilty for thinking of him in such a way. Here he was, a guest in your home who was kind enough to stick around to help fix the damage to your cabin. And here you were, thirsting over him like a cat in heat. You splashed the cold water over your face, but it did nothing to cool your thoughts. You were sure you were only feeling like this because it had been almost two years since you've gotten any. Maybe, you thought, if you just touched yourself the thoughts would calm down.

Your hand slipped down between your thighs and you slid a finger between your folds, feeling how wet you were. You were almost embarrassed at how soaked you were, but there was no going back now. Your fingers began rubbing slow circles on your neglected clit. Pleasure shot throughout your body, urging you to keep going. You increased your pace, simultaneously increasing your pleasure as you continued those circular motions. You bit back a moan at the same time you swallowed your guilt. The coil in your tummy was building up, waiting to explode. Images of Daryl painted your eyelids causing your cunt to clench over nothing. You slipped a finger into your slick hole, wishing it was Daryl's instead. You slipped another one in once the sting from the first subsided, but it still didn't feel like enough. You grew frustrated at how your own fingers couldn't quite reach that spot, so instead you focused on your clit, applying more pressure and chasing that orgasm that was so close to coming. You thought of the way Daryl's tanned arms flexed as he was chopping the wood earlier and that coil burst, making you see stars as you came. But once you came down from that high and realized what you just did, shame washed over you like a bucket of ice water, colder than the shower's spray that was currently splashing you.

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sorry, it took me a minute to finish this, but i did it, yaaay! Thank you for reading =]

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