#gage x femaler reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wastelandlovingscenarios · 8 months

Text

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.

58 notes · View notes

htchnr · 10 months

Text

★ stupid sweet spot ❥ P. GAGE.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ buy me a coffee!

CW ➥ slight OOC Gage ⋆ nightmares ⋆ mention of a knife ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

PAIRING ➥ fem! ex raider! sole survivor x Gage.

WC ➥ 0,6K. SONG ➥ chocolate and mint, duster.

SUMMARY ➥ 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.

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."

32 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 5 months

Note

Cedar Trees OR I’m Your Man + sleepy morning orgasm 😘

Both! both both both!

BUT

I did write FINALLY FINISH a little something for one of them. I've been thinking of this man for quite a while...

Title: Morning Radiance Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 750

Content Warnings: explicit smut - nipple play, spanking, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, implied oral - male receiving, somnophilia, DUBIOUS CONSENT

Logistical Notes: Takes place immediately after I'm Your Man. Probably can't stand alone. Not edited.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You stir slowly into consciousness, your body already humming with pleasure, but every inch of you is also still heavy with exhaustion. There's a warm glow of morning sun touching your skin, but it's not too bright yet.

You become aware of a warm, wet mouth worshipping your breast, and you let out a content little sigh. A large hand is kneading at the other breast, but your stirring spurs that calloused hand to move down the softness of your stomach, caress your hip, and then down the length of your leg. When it moves back up, this time along the tender flesh of your inner thigh, you spread your legs and give a little hum, aware of your nakedness and glad you don’t have to rustle out of any clothes and can cling to the strings of sleepiness. You’re already wet, and you distantly register you don’t know how long your bedmate has been working your body.

A nip at the underswell of your breast makes you gasp and draws you closer to wakefulness, but your closed eyes are still too content, so you stay mostly in your sleepy state.

“Mmm, I love how responsive you are,” the voice still thick with morning roughness makes you tense as the events of the night before flood your memory.

It’s Andy Barber’s voice.

It’s Andy Barber’s palatial bed you’re in.

It’s Andy Barber’s beard and lips and tongue exquisitely torturing your breast. His hand teasing your thoroughly ruined pussy.

Andy Barber who thoroughly ruined and punished your holes and limbs.

Andy who dangled ruining your career and reputation by spreading the word you were a thief after having someone plant three of his Rolex watches in your bag and “confronting” you about it after all was said and done with the charity gala you had planned and executed flawlessly.

He removes his hand only to rain down a quick succession of slaps to your pussy, and you cry out and try to snap your legs closed, but it’s futile as part of his lower half rests over your right leg, keeping you splayed out for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your breast before giving it one more long suck. “I’ll always temper the pain with pleasure.”

You whimper and try again to move your hips, but he bars them to the bed and quickly settles at your core, nestled between your thighs with your legs over his shoulders.

And then he worships your cunt with slow kisses and long licks, soothing the sting he’d inflicted and stoking your body’s need for him.

“No,” you whine.

He chuckles because even as the protest falls from your lips, your right hand comes down to twine your fingers in his hair and push him more firmly against your dripping hole.

You bring your other hand up to cover your face, and then you pull it back, clocking the unfamiliar feel of metal against your skin and unexpected weight there.

Twisting your wrist to look at the back of your hand, you gasp at the flawless, sparkling diamond engagement ring. It’s larger than anything you would have dreamed of, but just within the realm of still being tasteful and not ostentatious.

He slipped it on your hand at some point in the night.

“You like it?” Andy pauses, leaning up to look at you and gage your reaction.

“It’s gorgeous,” you confess, but it’s one more thing you didn’t ask for, didn’t get to choose, in a long line of things Andy has promised and taken since revealing what he wanted last night.

“It’s perfect for you,” he says with satisfaction before returning to your clit.

You whimper as he edges you ever closer to orgasm.

The previous night he’d wrung every drop of pleasure out of you, playing your body until you passed out with exhaustion. He’d told you not to plan on leaving his bed this weekend, and as he pushes you onto that precipice yet again, you don’t question now how serious he is. He plunges two thick fingers into your hole, and you groan in the bliss that overtakes you.

He lets you catch your breath while he kisses back up your body, then kneels over your chest and taps his hard cock to your chin. “Come on, sweetheart, let me see that pretty ring shine while you jerk me off and suck the tip of my cock.”

And that’s only the first set of orgasms for the morning.

He’s got the rest of Saturday and Sunday to enjoy his new fiancé.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read the next part: PREPARE FOR TAKEOFF I'm Your Man Collection Masterlist

Do we still like I'm Your Man Andy? I know I haven't posted anything for them since December...

#chris evans characters #andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x female reader #soft dark andy barber #tw: dubious consent #i'm your man collection #aspen wrote something

484 notes · View notes

avoxrising · 10 months

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

885 notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 11 months

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.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

498 notes · View notes

macbethsymphony · 4 months

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

130 notes · View notes

thesecretcornerintheroom · 4 months

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 #😘🥰

94 notes · View notes

deliciousbasementtrash · 10 months

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!

246 notes · View notes

hrefna-the-raven · 5 months

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

83 notes · View notes

virginsexgod69 · 5 months

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.

Next Chapter►

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

join the taglist?

Taglist @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog

#daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #fanfic #x reader #female reader #daryl dixon #fic rec #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #smut

66 notes · View notes

nicole-timey-wimey-stuff · 2 days

Text

Fuzzy Socks

Stepdad Negan x Fem! Reader

Word Count - 5200k

Warnings- Stepcest (if you don’t like it then please don’t read), age gap, Negan doesn’t meet reader before she’s 18, female bodied reader but no physical description of reader, smut, talk of feelings, mentions and descriptions of sex. Daddy kink, 18+ only please, toxic mother, Negan is a sweetheart in this despite the topic.

————————————————————

“I’m leaving” your mom announces coldly, abruptly disrupting your otherwise quiet dinner. You turn to her in shock, “What do you mean you’re leaving mom?” You were so confused, this was so out of the blue, did she mean on a trip? Or for the evening? Or did she mean forever? You weren’t ready to up and leave your life once again. You thought she was happy here, she seemed happier than previously. But she’d unfortunately always had a habit of this, she would find a man, settle down, then get cold feat and run away again, taking you from whatever school, friends and life you’d settled into and rerouting your whole life once again to a new town, usually hundreds of miles away.

But she’d married Negan, we’ve been here for three years now. Usually she’d leave within eight months. “Mom?” You nudge. “I’m leaving here, I’m not happy anymore. And I can no longer pretend that I am. I’m sorry Negan but I am leaving and I need a divorce.” She explained. All the while you sat there in total stunned silence, how could she do this to Negan? He was amazing, he was kind, funny, gorgeous, would do anything to help anyone. This didn’t make any sense! You looked over at Negan trying to gage his reaction but to your surprise he looked as if he’d seen this coming. “Mom please, don’t make me leave again I’m settled here, I have less than a year left of college, It would mess everything up, you’ve seemed happy here.” You plead.

“Oh no I’m not taking you this time honey, you’re twenty one now, you’re not a child anymore. I don’t have to take you with me. You can stay here, can’t she Negan?” Your mother assumed. Negan instantly nodded his head, “Of course she can, I’m not going to throw her out onto the streets am I? I vowed to take care of her, of both of you but apparently those vows mean nothing to you!” He argued. There was no way he’d let you leave anyway, you were doing well here and he wanted you to finish your degree, he’d grown very fond of you, loved you even. You were everything your mother was not, you were loyal and passionate, you were sweet, you put others before yourself. You were the single best thing that had ever happened to him. Even if his love for you had somewhat shifted into something else, something he couldn’t admit even to himself let alone out loud.

But he’d seen this coming. Over the last year your mother had grown distant, refusing any form of physical contact, and staying ‘out with friends’ more and more, staggering through the door again at 6:30am hoping no one noticed, but Negan did. He noticed the bed dip in the early morning as she tried and failed to crawl into bed quietly, he noticed the subtle smell of another man’s aftershave, clung to her body. All the while she thought she was being sneaky, that her secret was still hidden. But she showed no guilt, no remorse for cheating constantly, she didn’t care, and it was obvious to Negan that you were on the lower list of her priorities too.

Her words stung, you couldn’t lie and say they didn’t. All these years she just towed you with her because she had too? Did you really mean so little to her? You didn’t think you really wanted the answer to that question. So you swallowed any response down and just nodded, hanging your head low to hide the pain that was surely written all over your face.

This broke Negan’s heart, how could your mother be so cruel towards you? You’d been nothing but a kind and dutiful daughter. He wouldn’t sit here any longer watching you be hurt by her heartless words. “Fine, I’m taking Y/N out for a couple of hours, when we arrive home I expect you and your things to be gone!” He declares, standing up and collecting the dirty plates, bringing them into the kitchen. You look over at him in confusion, “Come on sweetheart lets go do something while your mother clears herself out of our lives.” He nudges you softly, his voice calm and sweet towards you.

Standing up from the table you nod at him, “I hope you find what you’re looking for mom” you speak, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “I will don’t worry, I’m free now” she responds, gleeful glint in her eyes. “Oh Negan, here” she calls, before handing him divorce papers, he looks them over, shockingly she wants nothing but the sports car he’d spent the last two years restoring. Did he love the car, yes. But he loved you more. “That’s fine” he sighs, before signing the papers and handing them back to her. Walking over to the entrance hall he grabs the keys to the car, throwing them over to you mum. “It’s all yours, take it and your belongings and go!” He growls.

“What no! Negan you love that car, you’ve spent years working on it.” You worry. “It’s fine Darlin’ we can find another to work on yeah?” He offers, you nod meekly. Your mum never deserved this man.

He grabs the keys to his truck and nudges you out the house, closing the car door you sigh as Negan puts the keys in the ignition, “Where do you wanna go sweetheart? We can go to the movies? Go get icecream? Or we can go for a walk in the park? It’s your choice.” Negan offers, “A walk sounds nice” you reply with small smile. This was much harder on you than it was for him. He hates to see you so sad, so he decides right then that he will make sure you never feel sad like this again, he will do everything in his power to make sure the light of his life is happy.

“Park it is then” he hums before starting the engine.

________________________________________

Arriving back home felt weird, she was gone. The car and all her stuff too, “You alright sweetheart?” Negan asks. “Yeah I will be, it’s just hard to come to terms with the fact she never really wanted me, you know?”, Negan gives you a look of understanding, pulling you into a tight hug. “Your always wanted here ok?” He assures you, kissing the top of your head. You take in his comfort, drink it in like a hot cocoa on a winters day. Getting lost in his scent of old spice and woodsmoke. He felt like home, warm and inviting after a long day in the cold. Feelings stir up in your stomach, ones you’ve tried to bury, you’ve always thought your stepdad was handsome, it would be ridiculous to say otherwise, but your feelings ran deeper than just finding the man attractive.

Pulling away he clears his throat “Let’s get some sleep yeah? We can figure the rest of it out tomorrow.” He suggests, “Yeah ok, tomorrow” you smile at him, causing his heart to jump in his chest, he loved it when you smiled.

Once in your room, you thought over the nights events. You’d always known your mother was selfish but you hadn’t realised she was this cruel. Negan had explained to you on your walk, that she had been cheating on him for a long time now. You could never understand how someone could have a man like Negan and cheat on him! If he was yours you’d hold onto him and never let him go, you’d treat him how he deserves, love him how he deserves. ‘God what are you thinking!’ You scold yourself, he’s your stepdad! You need to get a grip, he’d never look at you in that way, he’s taken you on as his kid, not as a potential lover.

“Argh” you groan at yourself, throwing your body onto your bed in exasperation. These feelings were complicated not to mention forbidden, and the thought of that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. You cannot think like that, it’s a recipe for disaster and heartbreak, he’d be disgusted. You need to let your silly little girl fantasies go, and be realistic. Pulling the comforter over you, you allow your thoughts to shift as fall into a deep sleep.

Across the hall though, Negan is laying in his empty bed thinking about you. The way your hair smelt, the way your body melded into his own. He wonders how soft your skin would feel against his, how warm your neck would be as he nuzzled into it, placing warm kisses down your throat. What noises he could pull from you, would you moan out his name as you found your high? Hips rolling frantically into his own.

Negan felt his cock stir in his pyjama pants begging for friction, ‘fuck it’ he thinks as he traces his hand down his stomach and into his pants. His large hand wrapping around his aching member, smearing the pre cum over his hand as he uses it as lube.

Biting down on his bottom lip to cover his moans, he begins frantically tugging up and down chasing his release. He should be disgusted with himself as he pleasures himself to thoughts of you, his own stepdaughter who is innocently sleeping across the hall. But he can’t allow himself to care any longer, he’s desperate, bucking his hips to meet his hand, with a low groan he reaches his climax, thick spurts covering his hand and lower stomach.

Catching his breath he pulls himself up, moving to his bathroom to clean himself. Intrusive thoughts begin as guilt starts seeping in, what was he doing? He sighs running his hands through his hair, He decides to put it down to over a year of no sex, that’s what’s causing it, it must be.

He’d tell himself that he wouldn’t pleasure himself to the thought of you again, but he knows it’s a lie. He’s started his decent into the deep end now, and there’s no turning around.

________________________________________

The next morning you awaken to the smell of pancakes and sweet sugary syrup. You get yourself ready quickly and bound down the stairs. Upon entering the kitchen you see breakfast all laid out for you, “Wow! This looks great Negan, you didn’t have to go all out”. You say, but the grin on your face was all he needed to decide he most certainly did need to. “That’s ok sweetheart I wanted too, coffee is in the jug” he points over to the coffee machine. You mutter a thanks, grabbing yourself a mug of the steaming liquid.

Breakfast goes by without a hitch, it was easy talking to Negan, but then you both always chatted over breakfast. Usually while your mother slept upstairs, tired from her late night gallivants.

“I’m going out with Lacey today, girls day to you know cheer me up.” You mention. “I think that’s a great idea sweetheart, you take as much time as you need. Just let me know if you’ll be home for dinner or not.” He offers.

“Ok will do, promise.” You respond, standing up and giving him a quick kiss to the cheek, before clearing your place and heading out. He watches you leave, his hand tracing his cheek, where he can still feel the remainder of your gentle kiss. He groans loudly to himself, he needs to clear his mind. So he decides to busy himself with house chores and DIY projects that needed doing. With your mother gone he could do as he pleases, finally finishing house projects the way he wants too.

But he speeds through them, finishing the last project he had on his list by early afternoon. Glancing over at the clock, he takes in the time. 2pm is that all? He probably still has ages until you come home, maybe some ‘alone’ time wouldn’t hurt? He has time doesn’t he? Nudging his bedroom door too, he strips down to his boxers before getting comfortable on his bed.

Closing his eyes he imagines a woman above him, as his hand slowly glides down into his boxers, he imagines her breathy moans as she rides him. Starting slow at first carefully rolling her hips, then speeding up as her hips collide into his own.

He imagines moving her hair out of her face, your face, the face he loves looking back at him as you continue to bounce on his lap. “Fuck” he moans, getting lost in the pleasure.

________________________________________

You’d had a lovely time with Lacey, you’ve been shopping, finding some cute autumn outfits and adorable fuzzy socks, you’d even found a pair for Negan. But after having a wonderful lunch out, you were ready to come home, it’s been an emotional rollercoaster this weekend and you wanted to curl up with a good book, wear your new fuzzy socks and drink a steaming mug of pumpkin spice cocoa.

Entering the house everything was incredibly quiet, there was no sign of Negan anywhere. “Hello?” You call out, seemingly to no one as it appears the house is empty. Looking out the front window you see Negan’s truck. ‘How odd’ you think, maybe he’s in the garden? So you wonder out the back, but still no sign of him.

You place your bags down onto the dining room table and kick off your shoes, padding up the stairs you hear a groan. ‘Oh yeah he said about doing some DIY projects, sounds like he’s struggling a bit’ you think. Maybe you should offer some help? Your self care plans can wait a little while.

That’s when you hear your name “Y/N fuck” he groans, he’s obviously heard you come in and needs help, shit you hope he hasn’t hurt himself. But as you quickly charge into his room you stop frozen in your tracks. There laying back on his bed is Negan, hand wrapped around his member, frantically moving it up and down all while moaning your name. He hadn’t even heard you bound into his room, seemingly still locked in his little fantasy.

“Negan?” You whimper, you’d meant to sound more firm but you really don’t know how to feel right now. Your shocked, confused, churned up and turned on all at the same time.

Just after you call out his name his eyes tear open in shock, hastily he pulls the cover over himself before rambling. “Fuck sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in”.

You nod still absolutely frozen in place, “You said my name, I thought you needed help, you know with the DIY projects. You sounded in pain I thought you’d hurt yourself. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have just came in”. You mumble. He carefully gets up from his bed, sheet wrapped around the middle, “You have nothing to be sorry for Darlin’ this is completely my fault. I’m so sorry sweet girl, I never wanted you to find that out, especially not this way.” He groans running a shaky hand through his hair, he watches your face looking for any clue on how you felt, but you just look so confused.

He slowly takes a step towards you, as to not scare you away. When you don’t run for the door he closes the gap pulling you into his arms. He feels terrible, you must feel so betrayed, he has no clue how to make this up to you? Maybe you’d want to leave, go live with your grandparents or your aunt and uncle. You had a decent relationship with the rest of your family, it was just your mother who was the issue.

He was stuck in this inner turmoil, not knowing what to do for the best. Maybe he shouldn’t even be cuddling you right now, but he needed the comfort too. You on the other hand were still so confused, did this mean he loved you like you loved him? Did he feel the same way or was this a one time fantasy? You needed to know either way.

Pulling back you ask “Why were you saying my name?” You frown, “I think you know why sweetheart, I don’t think there’s any hiding it now” he sighs. “What I mean is, umm is this a one time fantasy Negan or do you have feelings for me?” You ask.

“Does it really matter Darlin?” He asks, because he’s betrayed you either way, no matter what now you will be uncomfortable being here.

“Yes!” You all but shout, “It does matter Negan, it matters to me, so please tell me which it is.” You demand, trying your best to keep your voice unwavering.

Negan lets out a long sigh, nodding as he sits back on the end of his bed. He runs his large hand down his face before answering, “I love you, I am in love with you sweetheart and I know this means you’ll need to leave now and I’m so sorry because I said you can stay here, and you can! But I doubt you want to after all this.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, before smiling down at him. Leaving him just as confused as you were five minutes ago, “Why are you smiling Darlin, this isn’t right I’ve betrayed you in every way I” he was cut off by your lips crashing into his, as you slot your body between his legs. It takes him a second to catch up, but then he melts into you pulling you closer and onto his lap, hooking your legs around his back.

Pulling back to catch your breath you give him what he’s needed for so long, “I love you too Negan, I always have. I was so jealous that mom met you first, because she had the only thing I ever wanted. You.”

This time it was him that pulls you in to a bruising kiss, his arms locking tightly around you as he prepares to never let you go. “God what did I ever do to deserve you?” He mumbles in between kisses. “I don’t know, but what I do know is that you need to show me just how much you love me” you tease, grinding your hips down into his, causing him to hiss at the contact, “That sweetheart I can do”.

You feel your back hit the bed as he flips you over, bringing his hands up your ribs, carefully pulling your shirt up and over your head. While you impatiently kick your jeans off somewhere at the bottom of the bed, the action making him smirk, “Impatient darlin’?” He teases, “Yes” you moan, becoming more and more breathless by the second.

He could tease you all day, make you wait until you’re crying for him desperately. But he can’t, not today, you’ve both waited so long for this and he plans on worshiping you like you deserve. “Ok baby, don’t worry I’ve got ya” he says as he moves down your body, kissing down your stomach until he reaches your pubic bone. Placing a soft kiss there he wastes no time pulling your panties all the way off, and diving into your sweet pussy. You gasp at the sensation before letting out a long moan, the feeling of him suckling on your clit causing your legs to shake, “Negan oh fuck, you feel so good, more please give me more” you beg.

He answers your prayers by adding two long, thick fingers. Pushing them into your tight hole. “Shit!” You moan, your climax approaching quickly, never had you come so close to release so fast in your life! “Please don’t stop Negan, I’m so close” you whine, “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you, let go for me darlin’” he encourages, and you do, with a cry you reach your pinnacle, releasing all over his mouth and fingers, while he devourers it all up like a man starved.

You’re still so lost in your high you don’t notice him pull off his boxers and moving in between your legs. As your vision clears you feel him nuzzling into your neck, placing gentle kisses against your sweet spot while sliding his cock between your lower lips. “Are you sure you want this sweetheart?” He asks nervously, he’d stop right now if you asked him too, even though every fibre of his being so desperately needed to be buried inside of you.

You nod frantically, “Not enough baby girl, I need words” he nudges. “Yes fuck, I need you now, need you inside me so much” you beg. That’s all he needs to push forward burying himself inside you, all while letting out a low groan, “Fuck your so tight baby, and so wet. This all for me?” He asks, trying his hardest not to blow his load straight away. But you just feel so good! He’s overwhelmed, you’re really here, in his arms, begging him to make love to you.

He’s so lost in it all he jumps slightly when you roll your hips up into his, searching desperately for the friction you need. “Please, fuck please daddy make love to me” you beg. He whips his head up to look at you, and for a moment you worry you’ve taken things too far, the name unconsciously slipped through your lips, before you could even think.

But the smirk on his face says otherwise, who knew his perfect little girl could be so dirty. “Daddy huh?” He punctuates with a firm thrust, making you throw your head back in pleasure. “My naughty girl, does that get you off huh? Calling me daddy? Knowing it’s your step dad making you feel this good?” He teasingly scolds, as he starts a brutal pace, “Fuuuucckk!” You moan, leaking all over him, “Yeah you definitely get off on that don’t you? Dirty girl. Look at that, such a mess you’re making on daddy” he tuts, “Please daddy, please don’t stop” you moan, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “Don’t worry baby I have no plans on stopping, you’re mine now and I ain’t ever letting you go.” He groans, rapidly ramming himself into you, at the same time he cups your cheek, pulling you into a loving kiss. A stark contrast to his brutal thrusts, but he still wanted you to know how much he loves you.

“Daddy I’m gonna cum!” You scream, “Go on baby girl, cum on daddy’s cock” he demands, hitting that perfect spot again and again hurtling you into your second orgasm, feeling your tight pussy clamping down on him triggers his own high, causing him to release hot spurts inside you as he growls into your neck. After you both catch your breaths he pulls himself up to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much sweetheart” he smiles. “I love you too” you grin, “So this is it now? You and me together?” You ask.

“Yeah sweetheart, this is it now. I told you, I’m never letting you go.” He affirms.

________________________________________

6 Months Later……………

Sat at the breakfast table, drinking a warm mug of coffee, your left hand laced in Negan’s you smile.

Things have been wonderful, you’d both fallen into your relationship so easily. And with summer coming to a close, you were soon finishing your final year of college. “You know sweetheart you only have a few weeks of college left, and I was thinking that maybe it is time to start a new?” He proposed. “What do you mean?” You ask, feeling a little uncertain all of a sudden, reading your face he pulls you closer, “Don’t worry darlin’ it’s a good thing, I was thinking that maybe we sell this house, move away and buy another somewhere new? Somewhere that’s only ever been ours? No bad memories attached, we can choose somewhere together?” He asks.

You light up “Really?” You gasp, excitement flooding in you. Buying a house together sounds like a dream. “Yeah, well the divorce has been final for a while now, and I feel like we’d both benefit from a new start, my jobs remote anyways and you will be starting new, so why not? Maybe somewhere by the sea? New England?” He offers.

“That sounds wonderful Negan, I’d love to live by the sea, I’ve only ever been once. It would be magical to be right by it everyday. And choosing somewhere new that’s just ours sounds perfect” you grin. “Great, it’s settled then, we will go down to the realtors this afternoon, get the ball rolling.” He suggests. You sit yourself onto his lap, running your fingers through his hair, “How did I get so lucky?” You smile, “Nah I’m the lucky one sweetheart”, you grin placing your lips against his, as he pulls you closer wrapping his arms around you. You both deepen the kiss, tongues dancing together loosing yourselves in each other.

Just as things start heating up, as hands begin to wonder and you start rolling your hips against his, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor startles you both.

“What the fuck!” A familiar voice chimes through the kitchen. “Shit” Negan mumbles into your shoulder before looking up, his eyes meeting those of your mothers.

“What the hell is this!!” She barks, you quickly get off Negan’s lap and turn to your mom, “Well mother I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.” You sigh. There was no use trying to hide it now. “I think I need more of an explanation than that! Negan?” She shrieks, “We are together, Y/N and I, and as you left quite some time ago I really don’t think it’s any of your damn business, you clearly know your way in, so can you please reverse the process and make your way back out of our home!” Negan orders, his tone cold and final.

“How long has this been going on? Were you two doing this behind my back!” She shouts, causing you to flinch, Negan won’t allow you to be hurt by this woman again, so instinctively he pulls you behind him all while taking a defensive step towards your mother. “How dare you! After you know full well what you were doing behind my back! You didn’t hide it very well trust me!” He spat. “Well I umm, that has nothing to do with this! That’s my daughter! Your step daughter! How could you!” She cries.

“Firstly you lost the right to call her your daughter the second you left, second we haven’t been married a long while now so she is no longer my ‘step daughter’ and to answer your question, no this didn't happen until after you left, now will you please leave!” He growls.

Your mom turns to you, “I always knew you were a little slut, but to steal my husband, even I didn’t think you’d lower yourself that far!” She sneered. “Hey! How dare you…” Negan starts, but you place your hand on his arm, giving him a look that says ‘No I’ve got this’.

“I didn’t ‘steal’ your husband mom, you left, and you asked him for a divorce, which I may add you made him sign then and there. You then walked out of our lives, leaving me here with Negan without looking back. Now what? It wasn’t greener on the other side? You thought you’d come back here and pick up where you left off? Life doesn’t work like that mom.

I’ve nearly finished college and soon we will be moving, and we won’t see you again, you can go on and live your life exactly how you wanted, alone. You wrote your terms in the divorce papers, to which he agreed too and signed, so you are entitled to nothing here. So to echo what Negan said, please leave. I hope to never see you again.” You declare, opening the front door and motioning her to leave.

Negan watches with a proud smirk on his face, one your mother certainly notices. “This isn’t over! You won’t be walking happily off into the sunset I promise you! I will tell your grandparents, they will all know what a little slut you are! You’ll have no one left!” She shrieks.

“You can tell them whatever you want, but I can assure you they won’t be shocked. I’ve invited Grandma and Grandfather to my graduation. So I had to tell them about me and Negan. They weren’t too happy to start with, but once Negan spoke to them on the phone, told them what you’d done and how much he loved me. How he wants to make me happy and love me how I deserve, they came around, in fact we are both invited over for thanksgiving with the family. So you can take your threats and shove them where the sun don’t shine mother, goodbye.” You say calmly, once again motioning for her to leave.

She screams in frustration before stomping out and slamming the door. You know you haven’t heard the end of this, and in all honesty you hope you can move quicker than she can plot.

________________________________________

Graduation passed with a blur, your grandparents did in fact come and they made mends with you and Negan. All be it along side threatening him, that if he ever hurt you your grandma would castrate him. But even she could tell how much you loved one another, Lacey took a bit more convincing, she couldn’t understand to start with, but you reminded her you met him when you were over 18. That nothing happened until you were even older than that, you told her how happy he’s made you, and that you hope she will come visit you in your new home.

Eventually she came around, and has since visited you in your new home. Which was the best surprise, as you couldn’t imagine loosing your best friend.

Your new home….. it was beautiful, a little two bedroom cottage right by the sea in a sleepy little seaside town in Rhodes island. It was perfect, Negan let you decorate it however you wanted, in his words “I couldn’t care less, paint it all pink if you like, if you’re happy I’m happy”.

You’d gone up and spent thanksgiving with your family as planned, they were all very welcoming to Negan, as they hadn’t met him with your mother, it was easy to only see him as your partner. It was lovely to see everyone again, the family who loves you, but whom your mother had kept you away from. Your mother thankfully didn’t have your new address and it felt like things were finally good, really good in fact, and as you snuggle up with Negan on your first Christmas in your new home.

Fuzzy socks sat on both your feet, and the heat from the fire warming your skin, a deep contrast from the snow that’s softly falling outside your window. You look down and smile gleefully at the glistening ring on your left hand, and in that moment you knew that everything was worth it.

#negan x y/n #negan smith #step dad #stepdad Negan #dbf negan x reader #negan imagine #negan smut #negan x reader #twd negan #negan fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

When It Rains, It Pours

prompt: ( requested ) after a long hike, you and Joel find a rundown motel, and after finding the cleanest room, there's only one bed.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 4.4k+

note to requester: i know i said i'd get slutty but it wasn't going the way i wanted it - so, we've come to this. i'm so sorry 😭

warnings: cursing, we all pretend like we're not all dirty and disgusting from the apocalypse, mild mild mild smut but still NSFW [female-receiving fingering]. OC Joel who has a thing for pet names. author doesn't know what this is and promises she normally writes better.

The night was pitch ebony, swirling thick darkness making it hard to see in the absence of the silvery moon. There had been a wicked storm that brewed quickly overnight, and being as you and Joel were making a supply run into an area you don't often venture, it was easy to lose yourselves in the wilderness. If it wasn't the night that disrupted sight, it was the sideways rain that pelted over you two; and no matter a functioning compass or not, it was still hard to fucking see, let alone gage where you were.

"Joel!" You snapped, "This is fucking ridiculous. We're either going to wonder into a fucking trap or catch pneumonia. In case you're not paying attention, we're not exactly strapped with penicillin right now!"

He sighed, the two of you huddling under a tree. "We're almost there," he told you gruffly after hours of silent hiking.

"Yeah? How's it you know that? The rain is washing out the trails, Joel, we're kinda stuck out here with no real indication of where we are or where the fuck we're going!"

"No, we keep heading West - "

"How can you even determine which way is which!?" You snapped. "Our flashlights went out an hour ago, we should've made camp to wait out the storm."

"So the rain water could wash us out? Or so Infected could accidentally stumble upon us? Oh, wait, I know! So the other humans could come and rob us blind before leave us for dead, right?"

You offered a mocking look, "Then what do we do now, genius?"

Joel sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his curls out and spraying water all around. He tried to look through the trees but it was difficult to see three feet in front of yourself. "We should keep moving," he decided.

"I agree but our dilemma is, which way?"

"Uh," he tried to wipe the compass clean but in reality, he simply couldn't see from lack of light. "Shit."

"Yeah! Shit!"

"Don't get snippy with me - "

"I told you at least three miles back that this wasn't doable nor smart," you glared. "We should've been better prepared. So, where to now?"

"Well, I mean - "

"Fuck's sake, Joel, are we lost now?"

He paused, "Not exactly lost..."

"Just unsure, right? A little misplaced? Confused, even?"

"Just - c'mon." You glared at the back of his head but pushed off the tree trunk to follow him. "Bill said there's an old motel 'round these parts. With luck, we can crash there."

"If we're even in those parts," you growled.

"Well, keep an eye out."

"Have I slapped you today?"

Joel hummed, "Nope."

"There's still time," you huffed, yelping slightly when your foot stepped into a thick mud hole - tripping you into the flooding mud. "Ah, fuck! Ow! Hey, Joel?"

"What happened?"

"I'm stuck," You grit, trying to yank your leg free. "Fuck's sake, it's really in there. Joel, c'mon, help me out. What the fuck is this new Earth made of? Bastard ain't budgin'!"

Joel had to pause and double back to simply kneel, soaking his knee with mud, and after three good yanks, there were two pops: a loud one from freeing your foot (with your shoe still on) and a small one from within your ankle.

"Shit," Joel panted, wobbling for balance with a small pant. "You all right?"

"My fuckin' ankle," you breathed. "God, I twisted it real good, 's throbbing and swelling already."

"Think you're good to walk?"

"Gonna have to be," you used his offered hands to help you to your feet as you refused to be left behind as dead weight. In this day-and-age, you understood that injury would often get you left behind because nobody had the strength or ability to support the weak and injured. You tried a few slow, tentative steps but they were decently painful, so, Joel sighed and let your one arm sling around his neck to aid you as a crutch. "This is not ideal."

"No shit," he breathed, trying to keep hold on you, his gun, and keep his head on a swivel.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, what's that?"

"What's what, where?"

"Just pause, Joel, hang on, hang on," you snipped, tugging his shoulders You took a full minute to retrain your gaze, but then, you saw the outline of a building. "There," you pointed through the trees. "Do you see that?"

Joel squinted for a long moment, then nodded, "Could be the motel."

"Oh, thank you, God," you sighed, the pair of you moving for the motel as the storm drowned out any grunts of exertion. Bolts of lightning flashed to only confirm the building's appearance, and thunder seemed to reach into your bones. When closer, the building came in clearer view - shadowed, rundown, overgrown with vegetation... But with a few opened room doors.

"Here," Joel panted, leaning you on a thick tree trunk along the tree line. "I'll check it out - "

"Like hell you're going alone," you shook your head, pulling your hand gun out. "But it's also cold as shit and I'm drenched, I'm more than willing to help search the area if it means I lay down. C'mon, I can go slow on the ground floor."

Joel paused for a moment, then nodding slowly, "I'll check out the top. Shoot first, ask questions later," he reminded with a meaningful stare - as if he wanted to say more but couldn't. "And fucking run if you have to."

You offered a tired look, "Still givin' me that advice, all this time later?"

"Someone has to, you're chaotic and reckless."

"It's gotten me this far!"

"With bullet wounds."

"Flesh wounds," you instantly corrected, limping across the car park. "C'mon," you muttered, the two of you spacing out and slowly checking out the motel. Without your flashlights, it was ten times as difficult, but you had a little bit of a system.

Any door that opened, you tossed something into the room to rattle any Infected from rest. You'd wait at the open door, hoping the bolts of lightning were enough light to guide you. Some rooms were bolted shut, some literally fell off its hinges. Some were ransacked, some looked torched, others seemed... Lived in.

"Joel!"

"What?" He asked, appearing behind you so suddenly you jumped in fright. The man should often wear a bell, he was too sneaky for his own good.

"Fuck you," you sighed, shaking your head, "you know I'm jumpy."

"What is it? Why'd you call?"

"What's this look like to you?" She asked, pointing into the room as she stepped back. He offered a confused look before glancing in, then doing a double take.

"Gun up," he nodded, slowly taking two calculated steps inside to reach for the oil lamp he saw through the flashes of lightning. He got it lit using the leftover lighter, amazed by the way the lamp provided the room with warm light and also how nothing moved in the room.

It was almost suspicious after years of 'worst case scenarios' coming true. I mean... Look where you were! In the Wastelands of stupid-fucking Zombie World. Doesn't really get more 'worst case' than this!

Slowly, Joel checked out the closet and bathroom as you looked under the bed - wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on a second.

Pause.

Freeze frame.

Back up.

Record scratch.

One bed? Just one?

And as if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed to be unusually small. There was no way this bed belonged to this room, making you wonder from where the old inhabitants came from... Local, perhaps, if they transported a fucking mattress. Looking around, you realized the bed wasn't in the best condition, but there were blankets and thin pillows left behind.

Trying not to worry about the single bed, you poked around the materials in the room, Joel exiting the bathroom.

"We're alone," he nodded, looking skeptical.

"What do you think happened?"

He toed a few empty old cans, sighing, "Probably went out to find food. Not much other reason to leave." He picked up a child's stuffed animal, nodding, "Guess they just didn't make it back."

"All right, well," you shrugged, setting your gun down to lock the bolt on the door, "help me out here."

Joel stepped up and helped you move furniture in front of the door for added protection; then drawing the tattered curtains over the lone window to try and provide comfort in solidarity.

"All right," Joel sighed, staring at the bed like you had. "Hm, all right. Well... Let me get a blanket or two and I'll crash in the tub - "

"Like hell you are," you scoffed, shivering from the freezing rain water. "I'm not listening to you bitch and gripe and moan about your back all the way to Bill and Franks - and then all the way back to Boston."

"So, what? You think we're both gonna fit in that bed?"

You eyed it for a moment, but the cold was settling into your core. "You afraid to touch me or something?" You asked sarcastically. "Oh, right, I forgot, God forbid you get close to someone!"

Joel sighed your name in reprimand.

"What's the issue?" You whined, hands shoved under your arms. "I'm freezing, man, can we make a decision so I can at least have the decency to pass away in my sleep? Fuck's sake."

Joel glared, "That's not funny."

"What's your issue!?"

"It's not so much as us sharing the bed as it is we'd have to strip and share the bed," he tried to explain.

"You're almost 60-God-damn-years-old, but you're nervous about seein' me without clothes on? Are we in 6th grade again? Did we go back in time and I missed it!?"

"You've made it clear since day one you didn't want nothin' to do with me - "

"What the fuck are you on about?" You snapped. "Joel, honestly? You're the most important person in my life. I care about Tommy, I care for Tess, sure, but I wouldn't be gutted losing them. I would be if I ever lost you. So, shut the fuck up about how I didn't want nothin' to do with you, we share a fuckin' apartment - "

"That's because of space issues," Joel sighed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you took a long breath. "Joel?"

He rolled his neck out, "What?"

"I care about you," you simply said. "And I'd much rather lay in that bed awkwardly without clothes on, sharing body heat, than stand here another moment. We're both drenched, my ankle is throbbing, and you know what? I'm tired. I'm really fucking tired and that rain isn't letting up."

He sighed, nodding, "We might have to keep shelter for a day."

"So long as I can get warm, that's fucking fine," you shrugged. "Now, are you good? Is it okay to try to rest?"

Joel sighed, glancing at the bed and feeling his throat tighten. The bed was smaller than he hoped, and in honesty, you two would be lucky laying on your sides, pressed against one another, and not fall off. "Fine," he agreed, seeing how you were now trembling without control. "Fuck, I'm sorry, look at you, you're shakin'," he sighed, approaching you with rushed steps.

"Just cold, Joel," you complained, stiffly letting your pack fall off.

"No, you're fuckin' frozen," he sighed. "C'mon, get this jacket off."

"I-I'm tryin'."

"Want help?"

"Please, I'm just fuckin' tired," you groaned, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as he worked to shed your outer jacket.

"Work with me, sweetheart, lift your arms, there you go, that's it, good girl," he whispered, trying to help you peel more layers off. "You look like hell," he frowned, the flickering oil lamp providing minimal visuals from the shadowing, but in a warm, honied light.

"Feel like hell, too," you looked down your leg, sighing at the mud caked up them. "You look at peachy as ever," you tried to tease, but it came out in a shudder from a shocking wave of cold.

"Sit," Joel directed, turning you to lean on the bed's edge. He knelt to take your boots off - taking care of your injured ankle - and left your shoes at the bottom of the bed. He peeled your socks off, sighing as your toes were turning a slight shade of blue. "All right, quickly now. Lift your hips, let me get your pants off."

"Tryna get me naked, huh?" You grunted, flopping backwards on the bed.

"Keep talkin'," he grunted, unhooking the button on your jeans to start peeling them down. It turned into more of a shucking, and he tried not to notice how your panties tugged down, too.

"This is stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Bill gave us fried information, Joel, ain't shit out here."

"He was right about the motel, though. Maybe we get a fresh start when the storm clears."

"Maybe we just say fuck it and go live with Bill and Frank."

Joel chuckled, "Yeah? That's what we should do?"

"Yeah, fuck people."

"All right, now," he sighed, successfully getting your pants to your thighs without your panties following. "So, fuck people, we go live like hermits?"

"Yep, better than under FEDRA's heel."

"They pay good money for pills," he reminded, sighing deeply. "All right, little one - "

"I hate that nickname."

Joel sighed, seeing your eyes closed but brows crinkled. "Peach?"

"Yeah, that's the one I like," you hummed with a soft smile.

Joel allowed himself a solemn chuckle, "All right, peach, let's get you under the covers."

"Poor excuse for 'em," you grunted, rolling over a bit to shuffle under the blankets. "They're scratchy."

"They're wool," Joel noted, petting the blanket. "They'll warm you up."

"Can't feel my toes."

"Let's hope your lips go numb soon."

"Fuck off, I blame you for this."

"You blame me for the storm?"

"Yes," you grumbled, shifting under the blankets to take your last layer off - your tank top - and tossing it at Joel. Your bra followed. "Lay those out for me, will you?"

"Mhm," he grunted, doing as you bid, but also laying out your other clothes. Your eyes didn't open out of pure exhaustion, and after a few minutes, Joel's weight was dipping the mattress. "Feelin' all right, peach?"

"Mhm."

The oil lamp went out, and Joel shifted in bed. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, trying to adjust, but every movement jolted your body. The mattress was worn and old, sinking under your weight but still loose enough to jostle you around. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's all right, but just settle down, Joel, please," you sighed, eyes cracked as he still twitched around. "Oh, my God, please, just - spoon me or something. Just whatever gets you to lay still."

"It's just too small a space."

"Then get closer."

Joel sighed and shuffled once more, but then, his chest was pressed right up to your back and soon, you were being cocooned in his warmth. Another readjustment, and his legs were forming around yours. "All right?" He checked again.

"Mhm."

He sighed, "Can I lay my arm down?"

"Yeah," and now, your eyes were wide open, but in the pitched darkness of the room, Joel couldn't tell. His arm, thick with undefined muscle due to natural age-deterioration, laid over your hip and waist - trying to find a comfortable angle. "You're warm. Feels nice," you mumbled.

"I'm... Sorry?"

"No, no, it's good," you assured, trying to throw him a bone and took hold of his arm to pull him the last inch closer. You cradled his arm to your chest, and Joel sighed almost in relief. He soon started to relax - but you couldn't help but notice he still felt tense.

"You're shaking."

"I'm cold, shut up and go to sleep," you snipped, but your lips stretched in a smirk. His nose slowly traced the skin of your neck to rest just by your ear, pausing, and then tightening his arm to let himself rest in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm over your skin, and oh, fuck, did it feel good. In fact, you even hummed, mumbling, "Warm."

"You sound drunk."

"You fucking wish."

Joel sighed, his other arm easily sliding under the skimpy, thin, decaying pillows you used. For a singular, secular moment: everything was normal. There were no Infected. There was no end of the world. There was just you and Joel, maybe on a camping vacation and this was your night in a motel before hiking into the wilderness. He was warm, he was alive, he was breathing against your back and neck that you couldn't help but give a brief moment of thanks for the gentle reminder you two were okay for the present.

You were alive, and that was a huge relief.

Things seemed to quiet for a moment, until Mother Nature made her cruel reminder that She was the only force on Earth to be reckoned with by cracking a large boom of thunder. One so loud, it rattled the window. One so loud, it created small tremors in the pooling-waters. One so loud, soaking-wet leafs dropped from branches. One so loud, it made you jump and recoil back into Joel.

"You're okay," he eased in your ear, cracks of lightning flashing behind the thin, moth-eaten curtains. "Scared of thunder or somethin'?"

"No."

"Then why's your heart racing?"

It was only then you became acutely aware that when you jumped, you had subconsciously pulled Joel's arm in and his hand was nearly pressed over your entire breast. Just a hair's adjustment and he'd have hold of your nipple; the feeling exhilarating but also somehow forbidden. "Oh," you flinched in embarrassment, "sorry, I just... I'm not the biggest fan of thunder when it cracks like that."

"You're breathing funny."

"All right, this isn't gonna work if you're just gonna keep pointing out shit. I can do it to you, too, you know."

"But I'm not - "

"You're hard," you pointed out smugly, Joel going silent.

But then, you didn't expect him to gruffly reply, "Can you blame me?" Your breathing stuttered when his hand freely moved up to palm your breast tightly; kneading as if holding a fresh loaf of French bread. "Got the prettiest thing pressed against me, bare fuckin' naked, it'd be impossible not to be hard," he all but growled in your ear, you trying to clear your head as his actions were mesmerizing you. "Don't even know what you do to me, doll, do you?"

"No," you squeaked, gulping to clear your throat. "Gonna tell me?"

He chuckled, "Remember that real bad fight between Tess and I? Few years back? When she stormed out and slammed the door so loud, it knocked over those books?"

"Yeah?" You panted, slowly pushing your hips back to let your bottom grind into his bulge. You wore only your panties, feeling Joel hot and heavy against the curve of your ass through his thin and wearing-out boxers. He usually only liked wearing them for hikes for chaffing, so, most days in the QZ, he forwent boxers.

"It was cause of you," he whispered, both hands sure to leave bruises behind as he let his hips meet yours.

"I didn't - "

"No, doll, you ain't do nothin'," he cut you off, grunting slightly as he dry humped into you. "But I fucked up. I was so stuck in my head, it was durin' that heat wave. You wore that fuckin' grey tanktop and I was done for, girl. Hear me? Fuckin' done." You shuddered against him. "Felt like a God damn teen again, not sure what to do when he saw a woman's skin."

"What's you do?" You wondered.

"Might've said your name," he admitted, the hand not palming your breast snaking under your form to wiggle between your thighs. "Women don't like you bein' balls-deep in them, sayin' another woman's name."

"No, we certainly don't," you mused, reaching back for his neck.

Joel took this as invitation and rutted harder into you, letting your breast go to guide your leg back over his hip. Then, it darted back to grope the warm flesh. He grunted in your ear, "You were in my head, darlin'. Always have been, but it was real bad back then."

You remembered, "Because I was seein' that guy? Oliver?"

"Think so," he panted.

"Jealous?"

"Terribly," Joel growled, toying with your wet (from rain) panties for a moment before easing his hand into the front of your panties. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, girl," he noted in appreciation.

"It's from the rain."

"Yeah? That so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Even down here?" He smirked, middle finger ghosting over your slit to make you twitch with the smallest of gasps. Long forgotten were your freezing cold state, finding Joel similar to a personal furnace.

Okay, time for a little bit of truth. Ever since you started having "regular" sex, you learned that while cocks are nice, it's so much more pleasurable for you to have a man with skilled fingers. You liked that stimulation so much better for some reason - but hey, hey, hey, if Joel wanted to offer you a romp in the sheets, you wouldn't say no.

"Yep," you gulped, answering your companion and reaching for his other hand to forcefully grope your breast. It'd been far too long since you were intimate with another person, so, you didn't want nice and gentle. You weren't even sure if this thing with Joel would (or could) ever happen again, so, you really didn't want it nice and gentle.

"Darlin'," Joel warned, moaning in your ear as he slipped his finger inside you - wetness welcoming him like a vortex into your unknown. "I don't think I can stop - we should stop now. We should stop now, doll, c'mon."

"I'm not doin' anythin'," you whispered, whining when he pushed a second finger in.

"So fuckin' good for me," he grit.

"Joel? Joel?"

"What's wrong - "

"No, nothing, I just - I want this, too. I don't want you to stop."

"You don't mean that - "

"Joel, however long you've wanted me is probably almost as long as I've wanted you. Please," you whispered your beg. "I just want to feel you. Give me a bit of life, Joel, baby, please, I just want to feel alive."

Joel sighed your name, and you pushed his hands off to lift onto your hands and twist around. He looked up at you for a moment before reaching up to hook his hand around your neck and pull you forward until your lips collided in a frenzy of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Joel knew kissing you was a bad idea, but he was out of fucks to give at the moment. He wanted this, so, he'd relish in it.

He had you, he finally had you - and he wasn't about to give you up for the fucking world. He sighed before completely submitting himself to your charm; to you.

Knowing he had fucked someone more recently than you, you reached for the outline of his straining member and reacquainted yourself with the feel of a cock - of a hard cock hidden beneath fabric. Joel was right, you were starting to feel that juvenile excitement as if this was your first time again, and how you loved it.

Your lover moaned into your mouth, nearly hissing at the feel of your hand over his hot cock; trying to gulp down the feeling and not bust his load right then and there. "Can I take these off?" Joel asked, toying with your panties.

"Please," you breathed, helping him shed your last layer of decency before hitching your leg up his hip again and exposing your cunt to his wondering hands. Your moan was broken and whimpered when he pushed two fingers in again, letting go of him for a moment before latching onto his arm when Joel increased the speed of him tempo.

You begged his name for reprieve, but there was no mercy to be found in Joel's actions. You whimpered and shoved your face in his neck, unconsciously humping into his ministrations as Joel slowed himself into sweeping motions to search for you G-spot. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a diligent love, most simply thinking the clit was enough - and while it was with a vibrator, it wasn't if your sexual partner didn't know where the fucking clit was!

However, Joel proved he was well-versed in how to please a woman, and while he wasn't a regular Casanova, he was determined to bring you to your peak. "There, there," you jolted when his finger pad found that spongy-good spot inside your inner walls that, when stimulated, had you seeing stars. "Oh, my God, yes, yes, fuuuck yes," you whimpered, needing to open your mouth to latch onto his shoulder as your climax reared its white-hot head.

"C'mon, darlin', lemme feel you," Joel muttered, his Southern accent coming out into play more as he reached for your clit at the same time. The combined efforts had you ready to cry. "I know you're there, c'mon, c'mon, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers, c'mon - yeah, like that, good fuckin' girl, there it is," he coached, watching you closely as you briefly forgot to breathe.

You would've been ashamed of the moan you let out if anyone else was around, and if the storm didn't drown you out; Joel praising you for doing 'so good' for him as he stared down to watch you twitch and cum - coating his hand.

You didn't usually squirt unless your G-spot was hit, and Joel seemed mesmerized by the messy action as well as the sight. It made him feel both prideful and primal to see himself splattered with your juices. However, it wasn't enough to distract Joel for long - who didn't let up. He kept you going by never removing his fingers, and instead, watched as he coaxed you through your epic ride. "That was better than I imagined, baby," Joel admitted quietly.

"You might change your mind before the sun comes up."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. I wanna be on top."

Joel paused for a moment, blinking at you, then decided, "Maybe for one of the rounds - but the first one, I'll be the one fucking you."

With a growing smirk, you taunted, "Bring it on, cowboy."

author isn't very confident writing NSFW, but hey, practice makes perfect, right?

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller drabble #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

896 notes · View notes

l8rs-gat0rs · 10 months

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

101 notes · View notes

teamhappyme · 8 months

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

94 notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 years

Photo

Words: 5,746 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: strong language, violence, gore, blood and injury, angsttttt A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 9 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: The group continues through the subway tunnel and runs into trouble with the dead. Coming out on the other side, they set off to resupply and regroup.

Previous Chapter - Part 8

As if the creaking and groaning in the pipes wasn’t bad enough, then you came to the corpses. None of you had seen the massive walker rise up behind Gage and Negan was the first one to spring into action. He managed to pin it up against the wall, but it struggled against him, nearly overpowering him as everyone stood watching. It looked as if Negan wouldn’t be able to hold it. “Ah, shit,” you swore aloud and darted over and stabbed it in the side of the head with your blade with a grunt of effort. It stilled immediately and slid down against the wall at your feet. Negan stumbled back, out of breath. “Jesus...” he murmured, glancing at the slime and skin that had slipped off the enormous rotter with disgust. You didn’t say anything in return and the two of you looked back at the rest of the group. All eyes were on you and Negan. You hung back and kept your mouth shut as the arguing started and rose to a near fatal conclusion.

Things didn’t get any better… It wasn’t long after, when you’d all nearly finished your work on clearing the tunnel, that Alden realized Gage and Roy were gone, along with most of the supplies you’d all set aside.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “This is what all our fucking arguing got us. That’s most of our rations, our batteries for the flashlights. And we’re blocked here anyway,” you said, gesturing to the train car. Negan was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Daryl punching him across the face to shut him up seemed to have made an impression, even if it was mostly to avoid Maggie’s rage overboiling and activating her itchy trigger finger.

There was more discussion about what to do next when Daryl suddenly shushed everyone and held up a hand. Growls, a distinctive sound despite the echo off the arched stone walls. The beams of your flashlights illuminated an approaching herd. Too many to count. Perhaps they’d wandered in to instinctively seek shelter from the storm, some part of their diseased brains compelling them to go underground. Perhaps it was random movement or pure coincidence. Whatever it was, you all snapped into action.

You stood alongside Daryl and the others as you readied your bow. Gabriel and Alden frantically tried to pry open the subway car door, but it was jammed shut. Arrows flew and weapons swung and knives plunged, but there were just too many. By the time Daryl gave the call to fall back you were already splattered with walker blood nearly head to tow.

“Up on top! Go! Go!” Daryl yelled. He ushered you toward the car and gave you a frantic look. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

“You better be,” you said, stretching and reaching for the first handhold you could find. You’d just been hauled to safety with the help of the others when you heard Dog barking and Daryl frantically shouting after him.

“Dog, no! Dog!” Daryl started toward the side where there was a narrow space in the rubble that Dog had apparently run through. You heard him yell to Maggie. “Meet me at the other end!”

“Daryl, wait! No—Daryl, wait!” Maggie’s frantic voice answered. You knew right then what you had to do, and you swung yourself over the back of the subway car and dropped to your feet again, perhaps a bit clumsily. Negan and Maggie looked at you in surprise. Maggie looked fearful.

“See you on the other side,” you shouted over the approaching growls. “You better go! Go! Climb!” you yelled over your shoulder. You darted after Daryl and soon caught up to him just inside the tight tunnel.

“Y/N?” he looked behind himself at your huddled form over the broken concrete. “No—go back! Stay with the others and—ain’t no way to know where this is goin’ or what’s on the other end!”

“I told you—I’m not separating from you if I can help it! Now hurry up. We need to get to Dog,” you said with finality.

Daryl gulped and turned back around, squeezing himself through the debris. You followed closely behind, glancing over your shoulder as if you expected the horde to follow you in. Finally, Dog’s barking was closer and you came upon an opening in the concrete that had clearly been made in the shape of a door. Daryl stepped out and turned around to take you hand and help you. His fingers squeezed around yours gently and he gave you a worried look. “I shoulda listened to ya. I mean fuck Negan, but I shoulda listened to ya. ‘M sorry,” he said, regret thick and heavy on his tongue.

“It’s okay. We’ll be fine. As long as we’re together, right?”

He nodded solemnly and then turned to look at your surroundings. You were in the remains of an underground camp in an old decommissioned tunnel. Dog was panting at Daryl’s side. It was eerie and silent and the air seemed heavy and dank. Daryl lifted the beam of his flashlight and shone it over graffitied words and a sprawling mural depicting a conflict of the classes. You noticed him swallow thickly and saw that his eyes were slightly glassy. You grabbed his hand again and laced your fingers with his and he looked down at it.

Your eyes wandered over the wall again and the detritus of people who were no longer here. “Do you think this is from before or… or after?” you asked him softly.

The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Both,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s see if there’s anythin’ worth takin’ now that most of our supplies are gone.” You nodded and the two of you started to move on slowly, scanning the heaps of moldering sleeping bags and clothes for anything useful. Daryl picked up a small plastic bag. He pulled out a 100-dollar bill and you read it in the glow of his light. Next, his fingers found a Polaroid photo of two smiling kids, a brother and a sister.

Your heart ached and your stomach felt hollow, as if it suddenly contained a chasm of space that was pushign up on your lungs. Daryl’s free hand drifted toward the left breast of his vest beneath his poncho and landed over the Polaroid of the two of you, stitched in safely there. His hand squeezed yours again and then he rolled the plastic bag closed and stuck it into his pack. There was another moment of silence and then he glanced over at you. “Back there. When ya helped Negan—”

You sighed and nodded. “I know. I—Look, I know what he did. He took a father away from his wife and child. He tortured you and who knows how many other people in one way or another… He’s got blood on his hands that will never completely wash off. But in moments like that—” you searched for the right words, hesitating. “I—I can’t just stand by and not help someone who is supposedly on our side now. Even if it is Negan.”

Daryl nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay. Yer—yer a better person than I am,” he drawled, ducking his eyes. His hair fell into his face. “Ya always have been.”

“That’s not true.”

Just then, before you could say anything further, Dog took off in response to unexpected echoing yells and raced to a large drain culvert and jumped inside, paying no attention to Daryl’s shouts.

“Fuck!” Daryl growled, peering inside. His flashlight hardly seemed to penetrate the gloom. He shot an anxious look back at you and then closed his eyes for a long moment when you only nodded stoically. When he opened them again, he climbed in and you slipped inside after him.

The dark was disorienting and the tunnel walls seemed to shrink in around you as you crawled and hunched your way through. The growls and moaning of walkers echoed in the network of metal and stone, bouncing off walls and ricocheting in ways that made it impossible to tell which direction they were coming from. Your knees were scraped and aching from the cobbled stone and metal. Your hands were cold from the moisture pooling in the low, stagnant spots. You could only imagine what the two of you would look like when you emerged at the other end… if you emerged.

Right when you thought you were almost out, there was a sudden growl from an offshoot of the culvert beside you. You looked back just in time to see a gnarled hand shoot out and grip your boot. Some noise of surprise must have escaped you because Daryl was yelling your name. “Y/N! No!”

Your hand fumbled with your sheath and landed on the handle of your knife. You struggled to maneuver in the tight space but after what seemed both entirely too long and lightning speed, you freed yourself from the walker’s grip and lunged with your blade, finding your mark in the skull.

“Are you okay?” Daryl asked desperately, laying on his back, half sitting to look at you. You nodded, gasping in hurried breaths.

There was no time to recover as heavy iron behind him clanged where the exit had just been. More walkers had bumped into the grate, slamming it closed, and they now reached their bony arms through, grappling at the air. “Stay here!” he said gruffly.

“Daryl—!” but he had already pushed himself into the grate, hurling the walkers back as it opened and sending him tumbling down to the floor. You army crawled as fast as you could to the edge of the culvert, gripping his crossbow where he’d left it. But he quickly righted himself and put down the two dead with a few swings of his mace. He glanced up and down the tunnel he’d emerged into before rushing back to take his crossbow onto his shoulder again and to help you out onto your feet. “Are ya good?” he asked you again, studying your face. He couldn’t see any sign of injury. You were both damp from the heavy moisture in the air. Your hair was sticking to your cheeks and your neck. Your eyes were a little wide. He would have clasped your face if his hands weren’t absolutely filthy.

You nodded. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Fine,” he drawled, turning to look into the blackness ahead. Dog’s bark was echoing in the distance. “I dunno what the hell has gotten into him…”

“Let’s go find out,” you said, starting forward again. Daryl walked beside you, clearing on edge. His eyes scanned behind and in front alternately, and then he put out an arm to stop you. His eyes narrowed as he looked ahead toward a dark stain on the ground. He adjusted his grip on his crossbow and stepped protectively ahead of you, shining his light toward the pool that glistened ominously.

You followed just behind him and finally were able to see that it was fresh blood, and not blood from a walker… It was a deep, violent red. Your stomach twisted. “Daryl…”

Suddenly a figure materialized in the dark, staggering toward you. Daryl nearly let a bolt fly, but then he registered that it was Roy right as your breath left your lungs in a puff. He collapsed. The blood was his. Behind him trailed walkers, and in a flash, Dog streaked out of nowhere and took one down, fighting with it ferociously until Daryl could get a shot and it went still.

You pulled out your knife again and rushed one of the others, plunging the blade into its head. Beside you, Daryl dropped his bow and pulled his twin knives from their sheaths in a purposeful movement and he dropped the remaining walker with almost ease.

“Roy!” you said, spinning and hurrying to where he had collapsed. He was covered in blood. “Shit… Shit!” You fumbled with your pack, digging into the front pocket for the med kit. Daryl knelt down beside you and the two of you exchanged a grave look.

Roy let out a wry laugh and coughed up blood onto the concrete. “I can see from your faces that this’ll probably be the last mistake I ever make. Here,” he pulled out his gun and a hand grenade and held them out to Daryl. “Don’t waste any supplies on me. Just—tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.”

You shut your eyes and hung your head. Kids. The man had kids... he was scared and he made a mistake. “Hey. I’m not giving up on you. Come on. Let me patch you up as best I can,” you said.

“Where’s the ammo bag?” Daryl pressed Roy.

“I lost it. And I lost Gage… Please—just—make it quick.” He coughed thickly again.

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “Nah. Ya hang here ‘til we figure this shit out, alright? We’ll come back for ya. Just hang on.”

“We have to get back to the others,” you said, already shouldering your bag again when Daryl was back beside you, greeting Dog happily and scolding him at the same time. “Daryl, he said there are walkers everywhere. What if they’re trapped back there on the subway car still?”

“Yeah… c’mon…”

You were barely there in time. The rest of your group was trapped. On one end, a barricaded door, and on the other a herd of walkers. There were walkers ahead of you too, between you and the barricade, but less than were bearing down on your friends on the other side. You, Daryl, and Dog crept up from behind. You fingered your bowstring, itching to start, an arrow nocked. Daryl loosened his knives and then raised the pistol. You gave him a slow nod to tell him you were ready, and he aimed and pulled the trigger. An arrow whizzed past him and buried itself deeply into the head of the next walker, still covered in the spray of the one whose head had just exploded with Daryl’s bullet. You moved forward swiftly, like a force to be reckoned with, like the storm above, clearing the path to the others. When Daryl ran out of bullets, his knives sang.

He tugged the seat blocking the door out of the way and between him and Negan, they managed to force it open. Your found family poured through. As a final parting, Daryl shoved the hand grenade into the mouth of an advancing walker and kicked it back into the next car, slamming the compartment door closed again. He dove down over you where you were huddled behind a seat, shielding you with his body, as it exploded and vaporized the herd in the next car into nothing more than a sickening spray of gore.

You all slowly rose, glancing around, relieved that you’d managed the narrow escape. Maggie gave you both grateful looks and let out a long exhale. “Thank you. You make a pretty good team,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Wouldn’t mind keepin’ you two around,” Alden joked. Everyone’s hearts lifted, just a little.

Luckily, there were no more surprises during the rest of your underground trip, and you emerged from the station to find that the storm had broken and the sky was clear. An infinite number of stars shown overhead. You found yourself staring, drawing in deep lungfuls of life-giving cool, after-rain air. Daryl was watching you staring. He could see the stars reflected in your eyes—or wait—no. Maybe that was just you shining. Even covered in filth and splattered with walker blood, nothing seemed to dim you.

His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out the 100-dollar bill again, looking at the dark writing and thinking of those two smiling kids in that picture, them huddled around the radio—waiting and hoping. He wondered if they’d made it out, if they’d ever found anywhere safe again. You sank down next to him, close enough that your shoulder and leg were against his. Dog came and sat between your knees and you bent to scratch his chest and kiss the top of his head. Daryl tucked the bill inside his glove and you studied his expression. It was thoughtful and sad. You wished you were alone so you could kiss him right then… Instead, you reached over and rested your hand briefly on the bare skin of his forearm. Your pointer finger swept back and forth, and Daryl glanced over at you again and felt some flickering of warmth start between his lungs again.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were nearly to the hidden supply depot to restock and rest up, when up ahead, something horrific, still encased in deep shadow, loomed. Your inhale was a sharp hiss of breath through your teeth and your hand went reflexively to the handle of your knife. “Daryl…”

A few more steps and it was clear to everyone. Corpses. Rows of corpses, strung up and hanging by their feet. There was one row on each side of the road, lining it like poplar trees on some kind of perverse boulevard. You further loosened your knife in its sheath. “It’s them,” you said. Your voice was steely but Daryl thought he could hear a slight shake in it. “This is them.”

Daryl swung his crossbow off his shoulder and readied it in his hands, squinting ahead into the dark.

Your hand landed on his arm. It felt surprisingly cold and heavy—unlike your usual touch. Or was his perception of you being tainted by the horror show he was staring at? When you spoke again, your voice was more urgent. “We need to get to—” Cover. You’d been about to say “cover.” Too late.

Chaos. Nightmarish, abrupt chaos. Roy dropped to the ground dead with an arrow in his face. Cole’s hand was sliced clean off with a sharp knife that also embedded in his leg. Your group scattered for the trees like frightened rabbits in front of a fox.

“Y/N?!” Daryl whirled, searching for you, but you seemed to have vanished. Yells punctuated the darkness. A draft of air passed his head and he ducked, aware that a knife had flown right past him. He crouched and squinted into the darkness, his heart pounding—was it pounding? Or had it stopped altogether? “Y/N!” he yelled, unable to hear his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears. And just like that—he realized he was seemingly alone, with only Dog nearby. The silence was close, pressing closer, and ominous.

“Okay… okay…” he tried to slow down his racing mind and focus. Where were you? You’d been right beside him when Roy was hit—and then—fuck! It was all too chaotic! He was disoriented in the trees, in the darkness. He felt it all over again—the way your hand and then your fingertips had slipped away… or were pulled? Were you pulled away from him? He shook his head as if that would do fuck all to clear his thinking up. “Focus. Fuckin’ focus,” he muttered to himself, rising from where he was crouching and scanning the ground nearby, hardly daring to step away from the tree he’d been sheltering behind. But he needed to find a trace of you; a track, a scuffmark, a piece of gear, even one of your arrows, or—

He felt a painful jolt rip through him as his eyes landed on a dark splotch in the dirt. He stopped cold. All warmth seemed to leave his veins. He gripped his crossbow with white knuckles. He moved closer and stared at it, bending down on one knee. There was Roy, dead on the ground. Here—he touched a scrape in the dirt—he’d been here… and you. You were just beside him, on the side where that stain glared back at him, looking almost deep purple in the dark and the dust.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare call out for you again, even though every fiber of his being was revolting against his silence. You couldn’t have gone far yet. It’d been only seconds—right? It wasn’t even minutes yet… You had to be nearby still, especially if you were injured. But if he called out, gave away his position—no. He couldn’t get to you, couldn’t help you if he was dead. He stayed silent and it was killing him. It was like Atlanta all over again. You’d been together. And then you were suddenly, cruelly rended apart. He felt your touch slip from him and he willed it not to be the last time he felt your hand on his arm, your skin on his.

Maybe it wasn’t yours. Maybe it wasn’t your blood. Maybe you’d gotten one of them with your knife. He whistled for Dog and pointed to the blood spot. “C’mon. C’mon, boy. We gotta find her. Track. C’mon!”

A sudden rustling in some brush nearby and Daryl rocketed to his feet. A dark clad figure disappeared into the deeper shadow of the woods. “Dog!” He whistled again and signaled for Dog to follow, and they took off at a desperate speed. If you were nearby and injured, he wasn’t going to let this asshole be the one to find you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You pressed your back hard into the bark of the tree behind you. The bite of the ridges and edges barely distracted from the pain as you pressed the sterile gauze into the wound on your side with two fingers. You tasted blood in your mouth from biting down on your cheek in an attempt to stifle any noise that might escape you. Blinding white hot pain and then a deeper streak of ruby red exploded behind your eyes.

Daryl. Where was Daryl? You could still practically feel his arm beneath your hand. Roy had dropped, you’d scattered. He’d been right beside you… and then suddenly The Reapers were on you. You’d felt the icy cold slash of a knife in your side and then it was burning with heat. You’d thrown yourself farther into the trees, moving from the deepest shadow to the deepest shadow.

Behind you, a stick cracked in the deathly quiet and you stopped breathing. Your eyes flew wide open again. Your heart pounded. Your lungs were tight. You turned, angling your ear toward the sound. Someone was walking toward you. It sounded a little jolting, as if they were limping. You hastily pressed a gauze pad down over the packed wound in your side and tugged your shirt down again. It clung to your skin, soaked and sticky with blood. You gulped and gripped the handle of your knife tightly, holding it up near your chest, ready to use it, pressing yourself back against the tree.

The soft steps approached and then hesitated off to your left and you shut your eyes for a brief moment before deciding you’d better be the one to strike first. You gritted your teeth against the pain and leapt to your feet, throwing yourself around the tree trunk at the figure, your blade raised.

But it struck metal and ricocheted off. You nearly doubled over from the excruciating sensations rippling through you from your side. Then, you were shocked when the figure was supporting you, gripping your forearms. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Shit, if it weren’t for my handiness with a goddamn crowbar, you would have just skewered me,” he exclaimed, helping you straighten up.

“Negan,” you said through your gritted teeth, clutching a hand to your side again.

“Yeah, unfortunately it’s just me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes went to the dark stains down the side of your clothes. You noticed his furrowed brow.

“It’s nothing,” you said, doing your best to stand up tall and straight again.

“Yeah, well, that nothing happens to look suspiciously like a pretty fucking serious injury,” he countered. “Or you slipped and fell in somebody’s bucket o’ blood. I wouldn't put anything past these freaks...”

You glared at him. “It’s not life-threatening, is what I meant.”

“Oh, so you don’t need blood. Okay. Got it,” he said sarcastically. “That’s a new one for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut against another jolt of that white hot and violent red pain bursting behind your eyes. “I meant—look, conveniently I was shot once in almost the exact same place, okay? I’ll be fine. There are no major vessels there and no vital organs,” you snapped back.

“Interesting,” Negan nodded. “I’m sure that’s a story I want to hear but now probably isn’t the time.” He gripped your upper arm again as you wavered a little on your feet. “Also, it should be noted that I consider all my organs to be rather fucking vital. Just so we’re clear on that.” You were too distracted by another wave of pain to scoff anything back. “Come on. We’ve gotta get the fucking hell out of here before these psychos find us.”

It was then that you noticed the binding around his leg. You’d be willing to bet no one had gotten away completely unscathed… if they’d gotten away at all. “Wait. The others—did you see what happened to them?” you asked.

His eyebrows lifted. “Roy’s definitely dead. I can tell you that much. That karma sure kicks in fast, doesn’t it? Come on.”

“Wait! No—did you see—did—”

Negan suddenly sighed and his shoulders seemed to sag at the desperate look on your face. He shook his head. “I didn’t see Daryl,” he said, his tone sincere. “But if I’ve learned anything about him over the years—it’s that he, out of everyone, will be A-fuckin’ okay.”

You swallowed at a sudden constriction in your throat. “Fuck,” you muttered, pressing your hand down again over your side. “You’re right. We have to get the fuck out of here, and fast. Can you do fast?” you asked him.

He cocked his head at you. “Can you?”

“I said I’ll be fine. Now, where the fuck do we go?”

“Anywhere but here,” Negan said. He started off away into the trees, a limp in his walk, and you followed after him, slightly hunched, still checking over your shoulder with a knife in one hand.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was nearly light out by the time you came on a dilapidated old house. But there was a solid door and most of the windows were boarded up and Negan didn’t like the gray tinge to your complexion or the cold sweat beading up on your face or neck. His leg also felt as if he was walking around with a giant splinter in the muscle. “I think this is as good as it gets. We better take a rest in here for a while and regroup. We’ve put a good amount of distance between us and that Halloween town.”

You shot him a look, and although you were exhausted and pale, it was still sharp. “Halloween town?” you repeated.

“Yeah, the hanging human piñatas, psychos in masks…” he said, limping up to the door and tapping on it with his crowbar. He paused listening for growls but it was silent, so he wedged the iron edge of the crowbar into the seam and pried. The wood sprung open with a crack.

“Could you not make fucking jokes? We have no idea how many of our people even made it,” you spat at him. You dragged yourself past him and into the house.

“I didn’t say it was a joke,” he countered, stepping in after you and pulling the door shut.

You sunk down against the wall, sliding down against your back, your eyes closed. “Jesus, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you muttered, your eyes closing.

Negan laughed. “No, not really.” He paused, taking in your slumped posture against the wall and the rusty staining on your hand that was pressed over your side. He turned and shut the door again and barricaded it with a heavy old oak desk. Your eyes opened again at the scraping sound and he glanced over at you once he’d finished. He twirled his crowbar in his hands and you could tell he had something on his mind.

You grabbed your pack and started digging in the main pocket again for your canteen. “What?” you prompted him.

“I didn’t really get a chance to thank you for the help in the tunnel—with that fucking behemoth of a walker. Wasn’t about to try and say thanks with the peanut gallery standing around,” he said. "SO, uhh—" he rubbed a hand over his short hair. "Thanks."

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, don’t mention it…” You unscrewed the cap of your water and took a long drink. You nodded at him. “Your leg. How bad is it? I’ve got a few supplies if you need to patch it up.”

His hand strayed over the scrap of fabric binding the wound. “It’s okay. I mean, it hurts like hell but—how did you put it? Non-life threatening. What about you?”

You replaced your canteen and rested your head back against the wall. “I’ll have to stitch it. But it’s fine.”

“I can help you with that. I’ve done a few—”

“Hell no,” you interrupted him. “I’ll do it myself.”

He let out a dry laugh. “What, worried that Daryl will find out I’ve had my hands on you?” You scowled up at him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He flashed you a smile but your face stayed stoic. “Ah, come on. I’m kidding. That’s the farthest thing from my mind right now. …well maybe not the farthest but—”

“Negan, shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ…” You rubbed a hand over the clamminess on your forehead.

He laughed again and nodded. “Sorry. It’s a bit of a nervous habit if I’m being completely honest.” He sank down on a stiff-backed wooden chair in the corner, his leg stretched out and his hazel eyes fixed on you across the room. “I know I’m not your idea of a perfect traveling companion, but I’m on your team here. And to get ourselves out of this shitstorm we’re going to have to work together.”

You sighed again and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

He seemed satisfied with that response and stood up, crossing the space to you and bending down. “Now, about those med supplies…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

That Reaper hadn’t found you, hadn’t gotten to you. But neither had Daryl. And now Dog was in the wind. Daryl had gutted up and found Dog’s trail. His hope was that Dog would lead him to you… or at least someone. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that spot of blood back by the road. He wondered where you were hurt, how badly… What if you were—No. No, that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t going to happen now. Not like this, after fucking finding you again after all these years, after you’d relit the spark in him that had all but gone out. You were going to be fine, and he’d find you. He’d find Dog, and then he’d find you.

In the distance; Dog barking. Daryl took off toward the sound.

But Dog wasn’t alone. One of them. A Reaper.

“Let him go,” Daryl said. His voice was gruff but also soft and tired. There was still danger underneath it however. The Reaper didn’t move. Dog sat calmly beside the figure. Daryl withdrew one of his knives. “I said let him go.”

The figured raised a hand and pulled off their mask and a fabric covering beneath. Daryl felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. His racing heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and stayed there, heavy like a river rock.

Leah. The Reaper was Leah.

Next thing he knew, he was at the end of the barrel of her shotgun again. And then it wasn’t just her. He was surrounded.

A burlap bag thrown over his head. Water poured over his face. And Leah… like a shell. Seemingly unmoved. Unfeeling. Indifferent. Cold. Her words rang in his head. “These people are my family. I came home.”

He was disoriented with the racing of his mind. How could she participate in this fucked up horror show? What the fuck kind of person was she really? Maybe he'd never known her at all... Clearly he hadn't. And yet he needed to convince her he wasn’t a threat, that he didn’t know fuck all about “those people on the road.” He needed to convince her that he still cared about her the way he had. On some level, he did still care about her... maybe that was stupid. It probably was. But this? These people? Killing anyone they saw for no fucking reason? Stringing up dead people on the roadside? This was insanity. This was almost inhuman.

And all the while, you flashed in his mind's eye. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

When they dragged him to a chain link cell, more like a cage, he saw the shape of you in the sheets beside him in his mind’s eye. When they pulled him out to question him endlessly, he heard your voice saying his name, heard your laugh. As he sat alone on the cold cement floor, he could imagine the feel of you under his hands, the shape of you, the taste of your lips, the smell of your skin and scent of your hair. As the water drowned him, pressing the burlap over his nose and mouth, he saw the sun shining off your hair as you grabbed DJ into a hug. DJ. Now he saw DJ too. His son.

When Leah came and talked softly to him in his cell, he forced himself to say things he didn’t mean, a nauseous churning in his stomach. His heart felt hollow as he tried to sound convincing. When the time was right, he gave her something. That’s when it started.

The fire came next.

Pope came after.

And Daryl was embedded deep, with only you and the rest of his family on his mind, even while he tried his goddamn best to make Leah believe that she was the only thing in this world he cared about besides Dog. It felt like willingly drinking poison.

A/N: I fucking loooove writing redeemed!Negan and was so stoked to have him and Y/N team up in this fic. He's just so damn fun to write, and something about the dynamic of him taking care of Daryl's love is achingly good and delicious. Hope you enjoyed so far! Can't wait to get you all the next update!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #the reapers #negan smith

250 notes · View notes