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starsofang · 1 month ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART EIGHTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, fire, illness, depictions of death, be warned as always masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Rest didn’t come easy, nor did waking up with agonizing pain flashing through you like a beatdown on repeat with no stop button. Sometime during your rest, you recalled Soap and Gaz returning with the promised pillows, carefully cushioning you in between to ensure you as much comfort as possible, but the memory was fuzzy.

Everything felt a bit surreal, as if you weren’t truly present and the events that unfolded never actually happened. You figured it was your mind attempting to protect you, repressing the pain of the new memories, but it always came back in the form of anguish, your shattered bones shifting beneath the surface of your skin with every subtle movement you dared to make.

There was no use in pretending. It was pure hell, and up until now, you played the role of a strong woman with no fear of walking along a path unknown. You played long enough. The pain was far too much to muster an act of strength.

The room was empty when you woke for the nth time, the barest of sun rays peeking through the small windows and casting the room in a dim glow. The Captain nor the others were nowhere to be found, most likely manning the ship as promised or in their own beds to earn the rest they deserved after seeing a ghost of their past.

Your eyes remained on the ceiling, vision blurring then focusing, in and out. No matter how hard you blinked, the fuzziness wouldn’t relinquish its hold, nor did you have the strength or courage to lift a fist to frantically rub it away.

You hated being alone. After Price left last night, it had felt peaceful—now, it felt torturous, listening to the distant waves clash among each other and having no way of taking your time to breathe in the salty air as they fought against the sides of the ship.

Had he slept last night? Had he rested at all?

You went to open your mouth, to call out for him in hopes of being loud enough, but all that left you was a heavy wheeze, your mouth dry to the bone. You were parched as much as you were weak, and it showed in the way you attempted to inhale a deep breath, only for it to come crashing down on you in the form of an extreme sharp clash to your ribcage.

Everything hurt. The euphoria of your shared kiss with the Captain had long worn off, leaving you sober and miserable.

You were nothing more than a skeleton, or perhaps even an undead from those of the stories you’d heard about as a child. Alive, but not living. That was surely how it felt.

You felt utterly helpless as you laid there, unmoving. Even the lift of your finger felt as if you were lifting the weight of the world. It was all so heavy, your body, mind, and soul.

While you were one to cure the sick, you were never on the other line. There was no one there to coddle you in the way you knew to do with others, nor any treatment that could fix you the way you wanted to be fixed. An immediate recovery was out of sight, and it only grew you more restless, an itch burning beneath your skin.

It was only by a miracle of the universe that just as you were beginning to fight within yourself that the door to the quarters opened, Soap stepping inside with a bowl of something warm, the steam faintly radiating up. He looked surprised to see you awake, making haste in shutting the door and hurrying to the bed.

“Dove,” he chirped, throwing you a smile. You knew immediately he was trying to bring you some light, and for that, you appreciated it. “Yer up early today. Was just bringin’ ye some breakfast to start the day with. Ye hungry?”

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of him, then down to the bowl in his hands. You had no desire to eat, your appetite shot the moment you woke with no relief. Despite the faint grumbling in your stomach, the sight made you nauseous, mouth watering in ways considered unpleasant.

Soap noticed, frowning at your pained expression. He set the bowl down, coming to your aid. “Ye don’t look well. Did ye sleep at all?”

All you mustered was a small hum, lips turning down into your own frown. Your body ached, begging to be stretched from its stiff knots, but you truly felt exhausted. It was taking everything in you to resist moving, fearing more flare ups along your side.

Soap’s hand lifted, carefully resting his knuckles on your forehead. Your skin was clammy and warm, something he took note of, and the skin around your eyes appeared darkened, bags already beginning to form.

“M’sorry for what ye had to deal with,” he apologized sympathetically, brushing a knuckle along your brow bone. “Price has been bustin’ ass to figure out where to take ye. Been out there all night.”

You deflated at that, guilt pulling your heart strings. The last thing you wanted was for them to exhaust themselves for the sake of you, and the helplessness only grew.

“Ach, don’t look so grim, lass. We just want what’s best for ye, can’t have ye all banged up and broken, can we?” he attempted to tease, his smile fading into defeated pout when you gave no reaction. “Does it hurt?”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose, feeling the tension in your rib cage as you excelled your lung’s usage. You offered a short nod, Soap’s expression only turning more apologetic.

“Can I see?” he asked, and when you threw him a weary look, he corrected himself. “I won’t hurt ye, dove, swear. I’ll be gentle.”

You stared at him long and hard, before ultimately agreeing, lifting a heavy hand to paw away at the sheets. The dress was pulled back over your figure, but with Soap averting his eyes respectfully, you worked with all your strength to tug at the fabric to pull it up enough as you did the night before.

You released a frustrated noise when you were unable to get it past your hips, your arm failing you. You hated how weak you’d grown in only mere hours, feeling as fragile as glass, and you knew it would only grow the longer you remained unattended to from a doctor.

“What’s wrong?” Soap asked, voice slightly muffled from him facing the other way. You huffed.

“I can’t get it,” you mumbled, voice croaky from the dryness in your throat.

“I can help,” he tried, keeping his head turned. “I can see ye wantin’ to say no. I won’t make it weird, dove, but it needs to be checked. Let me?”

Your eyes bore into the side of his face, flickering across the rugged skin and stubble. There was no reason not to allow him to see, granted he already had last night, but alone felt much more vulnerable. Still, this was Soap you were talking about—he wouldn’t dare make you recoil.

You hummed approval, turning away from him to avoid his eye as he shifted towards you. His gaze dropped down to the bare skin of your legs, hand outreaching carefully.

Your warm skin felt even hotter when his fingertips grazed your thigh, trailing its way up to the bunched hem of your dress. He was cautious as he helped you lift it, seeming more focused on his own concern rather than anything lustful.

It made you relax, body slowly admitting defeat as the dress lifted past your ribs, the only thing keeping your decency being the thin sheet he had graciously pulled over your legs to provide you cover. It was as if he sensed your discomfort and was doing everything in his power to guarantee he meant no harm.

Your heart seemed to pick up its pace, pounding against your ribcage and shooting a different type of pain through you. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. You just knew it hurt.

Once your injury was revealed to him, he couldn’t stifle the pained breath through his nose. His face contorted into one of hurt, as if he mirrored your pain.

“Is it bad?” you asked, voice cracking under the cottonmouth.

“Ach, it’s nothin’,” he attempted, though you could hear the burrowing worry in his tone. “Just a bruise, aye?”

You sucked in a careful breath, feeling your lungs fill then slowly release. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Soap grimaced, fingers lightly brushing along the aggressive bruising on your side. The blackened veins had only grown, spreading into ugly branches. Whatever was hiding within them was the sole reason you were so weak, even just mere hours after inheriting them.

“Would I ever lie to ye?”

“Yeah.”

A small smile broke out on his face, only falling when you whimpered a noise of discomfort as his fingers caressed the skin for too long. His expression morphed into one of deep thinking, eyebrows tugged together and teeth nearly gnawing his bottom lip. You thought he looked a bit silly, but maybe you were being delirious.

“No need to worry ‘bout it, birdie. We’re fixin’ ye up real soon,” he assured, a sign of a promise. Despite it, he didn’t sound so sure.

You only hummed, sinking further into the fluff of pillows surrounding you, eyes redirected to the ceiling.

“Do ye want to eat? Ghost fixed ye up somethin’ warm, figured it may lift yer spirits,” he tried, reaching for the bowl he set aside. The steam no longer rose, but the smell of it invaded your nose.

You didn’t think anything could make you feel better, and the reality was until you got true aid, you wouldn’t heal. Not with the Devil coursing through your veins.

But the look on Soap’s face was hopeful, and you felt a nagging guilt if you were to deny him. It wasn’t often you got Soap alone, and you knew he had been the one to take the food to you in order to spend time with you. It would be downright barbaric to deny.

That was how you ended up with Soap feeding a spoonful of warm soup into your mouth, burning your turn at first taste with him snickering in apology and you glaring daggers.

He chirped your ear off, rambling about everything yet nothing at the same time. You laid and listened, occasionally throwing in your own piece, albeit shortly. Speaking fully was hard, even when you wanted to, but the soup had done wonders to your throat.

You reminded yourself to thank Ghost later. Even if he wouldn’t accept it.

“Have ye ever loved anythin’, birdie?”

The question was sudden, nothing like the ventures Soap had been going on about in order to occupy your mind. It took you off guard and you shifted your head to look at him, noting his curious expression.

Love was a strong word, and you knew your answer. You had been alone up until this point, and even then, the act of friendship was something you were still on the path of discovering.

“No,” you murmured honestly. “I have never felt that.”

Soap hummed, tapping his finger against his lip. “The Captain was quite jolly this mornin’,” he stated suspiciously. “He was still actin’ like a hound dog, don’t get me wrong. Barkin’ us around like his li’l workin’ mice, but there was somethin’ different. Ye know somethin’ ‘bout that?”

The two of you stared at one another, Soap holding a grin behind his hand, you appearing stumped. He was playing a game, even with you bedridden and suffering. He truly was a boy at heart.

“Acting different like Ghost does with you?” you bit back, Soap’s face dropping. “You are barking up the same tree, Soap.”

“Ach,” he tsked, throwing a hand up. “Ghost always say I’m too nosy for my own good. Thought the little birdie would have somethin’ for me to hear.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt you could entrust your heart with Soap. He never held judgement towards you, even from the beginning when he fought for your right to be treated fairly. He was a boy at heart, but a man when he needed to be.

“I’m afraid I do not,” you dismissed, rolling your head back forward to stare at the ceiling.

“Tch. Liar.”

You fell silent, as did he. You could practically feel him waiting for you to break, knowing it was brimming.

“I do not think what I say will be very good,” you confessed, tone growing soft.

“I have never forsaken ye,” Soap replied cooly, unfazed by your reservedness.

You frowned to yourself, knowing he was right. At the end of the day, Soap had been your supporter, even from afar.

“Is it bad to feel for more than one?” you asked, keeping your gaze glued to the ceiling.

Soap grew surprised, eyebrows raising. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, let alone ask him. “Ye said ye have never loved anythin’.”

“Because I have not.”

“Then what’s this yer speakin’ of?”

“Forget it.”

Soap cocked his head, taking in the way you seemed to shut in on yourself. While he was an open book, he’d dealt with plenty of introverted feelings with Ghost. It was nothing he hadn’t seen.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with feelin’ for more than one person,” he assured, eyes flickering over the side of your face. You could feel the heat of seriousness in the stare. “Hell, who cares if ye end up with more than one? More love to go around, aye?”

You took in his words, allowing yourself to feel comforted by it. You didn’t expect Soap to find it strange anyway, but to hear it outwardly put your mind at ease from the torn battle being fought within it.

“I feel for the Captain,” you murmured quietly, as if afraid to say it. “Yet I feel for Gaz. I am trapped.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, encouraging you to continue, yet you had not much to say. Your own words felt like vomit with anything wanting to come out being trapped in your throat. “Is there anybody else included in that picture?”

You knew what he was insinuating, and it made you nauseous. To confess that your heart pushed and pulled towards each of them in a way that had you longing, it was too much to say. You feared for the path you were strung along, though you feared veering off of it more.

“No,” you replied, missing confidence in your answer. You knew you were lying—you were just too frightened to admit it.

Soap blinked, weighing your answer. It felt as if he was hiding disappointment. You wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for the slight drop in his shoulders. “S’not that bad,” he dismissed, trying once more to make you feel better.

It only made you feel worse.

You no longer had a reply, opting for silence instead of conversation. You knew you could trust Soap with the information you’d given him, but there was an underlying feeling of something missing from the conversation, something you weren’t quite ready to address.

Sensing the shift, Soap shot you a smile, clapping his hands on his knees to stand. “I’ll be back later, dove. Ye know to yell if ye need anythin’.”

You highly doubted you’d have the energy to yell, but you nodded nonetheless, frowning at his back as he receded from the room.

You worried you hurt his feelings, but you weren’t sure why they’d be hurt in the first place—your own strange inner workings towards him and the others were nothing bad. He’d said so himself. Yet, the way he left so suddenly had your stomach sinking, thinking that you gave the wrong answer.

You watched the door for the next agonizing hour, blinking away sleep in hopes of catching the next person to come in. When nobody came in, you caved in, disappointed, slipping back into a restless sleep, losing the fight with your own mind and body.

The world was distorted around you, as if peering through a dense lens. You weren’t sure where you were, but all around you was an unsettling darkness surrounding a vast, empty land where nothing there seemed to thrive.

The grass beneath your bare feet was dead and dry, poking into your soles like little needles. The trees, albeit what was left of them, were thin and brittle, branches littering the ground around them. Buildings crumbled in pieces, standing broken and tarnished, the homes of what once lived here now vacant.

The world felt void of anything but disaster, showcasing its ugly teeth and rearing them into you.

You couldn’t recall if you’d ever been here before. There was a sense of familiarity in it, something that struck a chord with you.

The air filled your nostrils, breathing in old ash and faint smoke. It made your throat tighten and your eyes water, the scent shifting the more you consumed it, something more rotten poisoning it.

When you looked around, you realized your loneliness. Nobody was near you—not even Graves. It grew confusion, wondering whether this was one of his nightmares he loved to toy you with, or if this was entirely on your own.

Your body felt weightless, as if the pain you’d been suffering had vanished and you were nothing more than a feather. When you lifted a hand to touch your side, there was no agony. It was like you’d never been injured to begin with.

The world around you was eerily quiet. While it had a nostalgic feel, it had your hairs on the back of your neck standing.

You dared to take a step forward, your feet burrowing into the straw-like grass. The moment your foot touched the ground, everything morphed. Rather than the quiet runes of an old town, your ears nearly bled from screams and cries of hopelessness that filled the air.

Villagers ran frantic, seeking shelter from impending death. Women, men, children, they all were succumbing to their own horrible cruelties. Mother Nature offered no mercy on their souls, taking what she wanted and whatever stood in her way.

The homes were no longer rubble but burning in flames, villagers running for safety, coughing and hacking from the smoke that clouded around them in a dome. You felt the heat singe your skin, warming you from the inside and out.

You stood, horrified, unable to do anything but watch.

You knew why everything seemed so familiar—this was your home. You were watching it fall apart just as you’d done before, but this time, you knew the outcome before it arrived. Everybody around you would be dead once again, and you would be the unlucky survivor.

You attempted to move, but as if your feet were glued to the ground, you remained frozen, locked in a nightmare of watching everything you’d ever known crumble to pieces for a second time.

Why? Why were you being shown this? Why did you have to relive it? You didn’t understand, and the more you fought, the more disoriented you became.

Your gaze darted everywhere, frantic as you searched. It wasn’t until you realized the small bookkeep of your village that it was the only building left standing, unharmed. The flames hadn’t slithered inside, nor had it succumbed to destruction.

You tried your hardest to understand, to think of any reason why your mind was reliving this horrible memory, but the flames began to slink its way towards you, tickling your feet. Its ember grew, and you cried as the heat embedded into your skin.

You’d hardly visited the bookkeep, only on the occasion your curiosity on a subject got the best of you. It held no significant meaning to you. All the knowledge you earned was from your own research. So why?

You watched the fire dance around the building as if it were untouchable, killing everything in its wake while protecting the bookkeep. It hadn’t even touched its grass, keeping it green and vibrant compared to the soot-covered fields around it.

You desperately searched through your mind for importance. Even as the flames at your feet rose, you tried with all your might, hoping that anything of significance would cease the torturous pain and bring you back to your reality.

They rose and rose, until you could no longer think of anything but your melting skin and scorching body. You burned along with the villagers and could do nothing but accept it until you were swallowed whole, engulfed in your own personal hell.

“She’s a furnace, Cap,” Gaz said wearily, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. “Whatever Graves did to her, it’s not givin’ us a lot of time.”

The Captain paced his quarters, hand dug into his beard, tugging.

Upon Gaz returning to feed you dinner, he found you clammy and burning, your skin hot to the touch. Your forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, the skin discoloring around your eyes to a meek gray. You were asleep, though God only knows for how long since Soap had left that morning.

“Captain,” Gaz tried once more, watching the man nearly rip his own hair out as he lost himself in his own muddled thoughts.

Price said nothing as if he hadn’t even heard Gaz. He was thinking up anything to stall your illness from whatever disgusting infection Graves mustered up, but he wasn’t a medic. That was your knowledge. He felt utterly useless.

“Price,” Gaz snapped, loud enough to garner the Captain’s attention. “Get a fuckin’ grip. Stress later, come up with a plan now.”

Price halted in his tracks, taking in a deep breath. He took the moment to calm himself, knowing Gaz was right in everything he said. He was a Captain, damn it, yet was falling apart at the sight of one of his own.

“We don’t have time for a professional,” Price stated, stepping up to your bedside where Gaz sat. He peered down at you, observing your sickly skin and pure exhaustion. “We’ll take her to a village doctor, a shrink, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. The nearest place, we take her to.”

Gaz released a sigh, glancing back at your crippled form. Broken ribs seemed to be the lesser worry. It was the ugly veins that only seem to travel further under your skin. They looked worst than they had been the night before, far worse.

“Nobody leaves her alone,” Price continued. “One of us will be here at all times until we make landfall.”

“I’ll stay,” Gaz offered immediately.

Internally, Price wanted to protest. He was Captain, he should take the responsibility, but his responsibility lied with the helm and manning the ship until his body gave out. It was his heart yearning to stay.

“I’ll let Soap and Ghost know,” Price replied. His hands balled into fists at his sides, jaw clenching uncomfortably. “None of you leave her fuckin’ side. Am I clear?”

Gaz stared at the Captain, noting the tension he held. He glanced back at you, a poor sight to see, and he nodded in agreement.

“No man left behind, aye, Cap?” Gaz tried.

Price grunted, giving him a clap on his shoulder. He gazed down at Gaz with an unreadable expression before shaking it off, storming out of the quarters to inform the others of the plan.

Gaz sat quietly, focusing on you. His heart was pained, seeing you so distressed. He did what he thought may comfort you, grasping your hand in his, rolling a thumb over your knuckles. There was nothing for him to do but get comfortable for the night and ride out the storm that Graves stowed upon them once again, promising to whatever God was listening that he’d fight through hell and back if anything were to happen.

You didn’t wake that day, nor the day after. You relived the nightmare over and over until it was engraved in your head, festering itself deep. It took nearly three days to awake, forcing your eyes open.

Your mouth was dry as cotton, eyes crusted over with endless sleep. Your body felt heavy, as if molded to the cot, and it took all your strength to move your head. You would’ve shrieked in surprise if your throat was hydrated enough.

Price slept beside you, faint moonlight as well as a trusty candle illuminating his peaceful features. He laid on his stomach, arms curled under the pillow and cheek pressed into it. He looked almost boyish like that, the worry exhausted from his face and replaced with a quiet calm.

It was the first you’d woken in the middle of the night to the sight of him. The times you’d spent in his bed before were ones you didn’t wake up to, only waking to an empty cot or falling asleep alone.

You couldn’t help but stare, studying every smooth feature. You almost felt it wasn’t real, that maybe this was a new nightmare forming and was playing tricks on you with a subtle beginning. But when you stared long enough, reality formed and you knew you were awake.

Your body was still hurting, though from being so still in slumber, it was more stiff than anything. You weakly lifted a hand, pawing at the Captain in attempts to rouse him.

As if he’d already been on edge, his eyes shot open, meeting yours. His expression quickly morphed into surprise, then relief.

“Dove,” he breathed, sitting up. He made an uncomfortable grunt from the stiffness in his muscles but was quick to ignore it, laser focused on you. “Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to speak, an embarrassing squeak coming out. Price noticed instantly, shooting up from the bed.

“Water?” he asked, and when you nodded, he dipped from the room, leaving you alone.

You didn’t wait long, and you would’ve thought Price was running a marathon with the haste he made. He sat beside you, carefully curling his hand on the back of your head to lift it. He placed the cup to your lips, and you nearly moaned in relief once the water hit your tastebuds, flooding them with hydration.

“Better?” he asked, watching you gulp he beverage.

Once finished, you sighed, blinking away the soreness of your eyes. His hand remained on your head as he stared at you, worry lines forming between his brows.

You knew you looked even more hellish than before, but he didn’t seem to pay any mind, only concerned about making sure you were alright. It warmed the coldness in you, melting away the icy wall you’d built from the reoccurring nightmare you suffered.

“We’ll make landfall tomorrow,” Price explained, smoothing his knuckles along your cheekbone with his other hand. The affection caused you to relax. “Get you all better, aye? I know how much it hurts.”

You sluggishly nodded, content with the change of scenery rather than angry flames that burned you to death over, and over, and over. Though it’d only been three days, it felt like years.

“Home,” you murmured, voice still shot from weakness.

Price appeared confused, cocking his head. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone as he spoke. “Home?” he repeated. “What’s on your mind, dove?”

“Need to go home,” you mumbled softly.

“I don’t understand—”

“My village,” you explained, frowning.

Price stared at you, trying to read you. His eyes flickered between yours, displeased with the sickly bags surrounding yours. You looked void of life.

“You want to go home?” he tried, and when you nodded, he hummed. He knew you had no home to go back to, and so did you. It was rubble.

Rather than question your reasoning, he merely took it in stride, nodding in agreement. “We can go home, dove—after you get better. Alright?”

You knew you sounded silly, but the nightmare kept flashing in your head. The bookkeep—something was there, even in the ruins of it. It called to you in your dreams, and it stayed unharmed during mass destruction. There was nothing else for you to believe besides its calling.

Price glanced down at the bare skin of your ribcage where it peeked out from beneath the blanket, your dress still pulled up from when you’d shown Soap. They all made sure you remained decent, never wanting you to feel uncomfortable.

Whatever was plotting beneath your skin in the rooted veins, Price could only hope it wasn’t making you delirious. Hearing you utter words about home had him stuck, but he knew better than to not trust you—it was something he did with his life, now that he had you.

If it was home you wanted to be at, he’d take you. He only prayed you made it long enough to see it.

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gremlingottoosilly · 11 months ago

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141 with a soft, crybaby bunny reader who stumbled upon their base after being chased by a scary predator, not knowing they're worse than the monster who previously hunted her.

Awww...you're so scared, so vulnerable - if only you were a hare hybrid, with strong legs and good hearing. If only you were a fast, resilient creature, if only your monster form weren't even more helpless than your human one... You get it now - it would be better to die, to perish in predator's arms, than to sit on the lap of men who would love to devour you in every other scene. It's better to die than to have this crazy harpy push you over the edge of the watch tower only to catch you in the last moment - his mouth already forces its way to carve bite marks in your breasts, listening to the panicking beating of your fragile, weak heart. If you were stronger, you could have survived the fall without help - but you cry and squeal as the harpy pushes you clothes to his embrace, laughing when your fluffy ears are trembling and you cling to him, begging to not let go. Bunnies like their burrows deep in the ground...you'd have to get used to be suspended in the air.

Ghost was really going to kill you when he first saw you - such a pathetic, weak thing, your lips trembling and your nose twitching as you smell the decay on his skin. Poor thing, he almost feels sorry for you - but your cries are so delightful when he buries his cock deep between your soft bunny thighs, lying as he squishes your soft little tail in his paws. You might be just a human with few monster parts - but oh, aren't they just adorable. Ghost isn't the one to be soft with you, but he is here when you stumble into his quarters, rubbing your pretty legs together as you cry in the depths of your heat. He is the only one with enough undead stamina to handle your hungry, soaked pussy. Soap was the one to capture you in the first place - when you were running away from some weak, pathetic fox hybrid, when you were considered a petty enough prey - the werewolf didn't even acknowledge you at first, thrilled and high on the fight from the hybrid who breached 141 territories...and then he saw you. You didn't even get that he is a werewolf at first - you were so cute, so trusting, you begged him for help and shelter...and he gave it to you. He held you close, teeth buried in your shoulder when you started to push him away, when you finally noticed that he is your biggest threat out here. But, oh, how could he resist the swell of his knot in your plump bunny ass? And Price, oh, he is the only one you could really trust here. Gaz and Soap are your natural predators, Ghost is Death himself, but the bear hybrid...you thought he'd be different. Soft. He doesn't want to eat you, oh no - but you soon find out tat he is hungry for you just like all the others. Price loves his pretty bunny pet, you're so tiny compared to him - he lifts you in his arms and pushes your face in his hairy chest, forcing you to bounce on his meaty cock when you squirm and cry. He is breeding you, pushing the rest aside - you don't think you remember the night when you weren't laying under him, his cock buried deep in your cunt. You really should have think twice before asking the pack for help...

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #tw: monster fucking #monster!gaz #monster!ghost #monster!soap #monster!price #price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #yandere ghost #yandere price #yandere gaz #yandere soap

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hopesangelsprite · 5 months ago

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The Summoning

Pairing: Vampire!Illumi x Reader

Summary: Being immortal can grow very old, very quickly and Illumi's found that out the hard way. The only reasonable solution would be to find a suitable playmate, right?

Warnings: mentions of blood/death/murder, biting, size/strength difference, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, dacryphilia, breeding kink, degradation, female ejaculation, manipulation (vampire compulsion)

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

Viewer discretion is advised.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cast me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

Illumi watched with half-lidded eyes as his servants removed a corpse from his feet, nothing left of the younger male but an empty, soulless husk. How many had he gone through now? 30? 300? Whatever the death toll was, it didn't matter. Illumi no longer cared for numbers, the sheer quantity of his years on earth drawing him to the conclusion that they were overrated.

"Bring me the next one.", he ordered while leaning further into the large throne chair he'd taken residence in, "If this one doesn't satisfy me, I'll be draining one of you in their place.". Illumi let threat roll off his blood-stained lips easily, keen on fulfilling it should he be presented another weakling.

There was a brief silence before the doors to his quarters opened, your figure edging closer uncertainly. The closer you got, the better he was able to analyze you. Unlike his previous victims, there were no tears in your eyes or trembling in your limbs. Though you eyed him warily, he sensed you were more curious than afraid. You were quite attractive, as well; with smooth curves just barely concealed by what was left of a skirt and halter top. As you finally got within arm's reach of him, you sank to your knees with fluttering lashes.

Illumi's cock twitched at the sight, the position giving him a perfect view of your tits and exposed thighs. "Do you know why you're here, pretty thing?", he inquired whilst making a mental note of just how fragile you were in comparison to him. To any mortal man, you'd be considered healthy, maybe even too much so for those on the weaker end of the male spectrum. To Illumi, however, you were nothing but a doll, a plaything he could bend and contort to his undead heart's content.

"I was running from my old life... I was promised shelter.", you answered after a moment and Illumi chuckled. He leaned forward, crimson tongue flicking over glinting fangs, and grasped your face with a large, ring-laden hand. "There's no safety for you here, little doll, only death or imprisonment.", he drawled out, keen eyes catching the way your thighs pressed together at his touch. With one hand, you removed his hand from your face, head turning to place a kiss on his palm. The other you placed on his dark denim-clad thigh, fingers tracing patterns into the coarse material. "Then I should aim to please, no?", you inquired as your hand crept closer to his belt.

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

A smirk graced Illumi's lips at your insinuation, lust deepening within him as you carefully undid his belt's clasp. So, he leaned back, dark eyes watching you like a predator behind inky tresses. He pushed his hips forward to allow you better access to him, reveling in the tiny gasp you let out upon freeing his cock. His skin was milky, fading into a pretty pink closer to his weeping tip; a few veins adorned his shaft, a little longer than he was thick. Your mouth watered at the sight, core moistening as you took him into your hands.

Illumi groaned at the softness of your skin against his, catching his bottom lip between a fang as you gave him a few experimental strokes. You shuffled closer, knees no doubt bruising from the floor's harsh surface. You placed your chin on his knees, inquiring eyes boring into his as you swiped a thumb over his leaky slit; you were seeking permission, how wonderfully submissive of you. "Go on then, have a taste.", he permitted with a lazy nod.

His breath caught in his throat as your warm, plush lips enveloped his cockhead, your tongue following shortly afterward. You kissed him wetly, the taste of precum unfamiliar yet welcomed. You took him into your mouth once more, this time sucking him as far back into your throat as you could. A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through Illumi's chest as he watched you begin to come up for air, a blood-stained hand tangling itself into your hair to stop your rising and push you down further. "Now, now. Don't underestimate yourself, darling, you can take a little bit more.", he mewled over the sound of your gagging, "Can't you?".

Illumi finally let you up after a few moments, cooing at the sight of tear-streaked mascara kissing your cheeks. Still, your eyes only held a strange look of awe and adoration; one that Illumi found himself mirroring as you continued to suck him off ever so sweetly. Illumi hissed as he pulled you off his cock, leaning down to catch your lips with his. He deepened the kiss as he guided you from the floor onto his lap, the taste of his arousal on your tongue only making him harder.

As Illumi broke the kiss, lips dipping to nip at your neck while his hands slipped underneath your skirt, a low curse escaped him as his fingers met your bare, soaked core. He found his sanity waning. "Nothing underneath?", he hummed as he brought your face close to his, "What a pretty little slut you are.". He locked eyes with you, eye contact unwavering as he pushed two long fingers past your entrance and began searching for that soft, spongy spot he knew would have you singing praises.

You whimpered upon the intrusion, thighs quaking as he began scissoring you open. Illumi took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, enjoying your breathy moans and the noises coming from your sopping cunt. "Feels good, doesn't it.", he chuckled as your hips began rutting against his palm, "I think we both know what'll feel much better, though.".

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

Before you could reach your high, Illumi pulled his fingers from your cunt. Without a second of hesitation, he shoved those same fingers into your throat as he pulled you down onto his cock, allowing very little protest as your pelvises met abruptly. More tears welled behind your lash line as you adjusted to the stretch of him overfilling your pussy, tip nuzzled snuggly against your cervix and g-spot. "Filthy fucking whore.", he spat as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and began manhandling you up the expanse of his shaft, "My filthy fucking whore.".

You cried out in pleasure as he pulled you back down, setting a quick and unforgiving rhythm. Illumi watched your tits bounce beneath the fabric of your top ruefully as he continued to use you like a doll. He growled as he tugged at its neckline, hips bucking up into you as it freed your breasts with a loud rip. You shivered as Illumi leaned forward to take one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging at it before swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. He continued his ministrations, switching between left and right, with a single hand keeping a bruising grip on your hip while the other busied itself by rolling your clit between its thumb and index finger.

Illumi felt your soft walls flutter around him and he groaned into your skin, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. He released your tit with a loud pop, hips pistoning his cock into you faster as he licked a stripe up your chest and neck. It didn't take him long to find your pulse, suckling over the skin while imagining just how sweet you'd taste. Soon, his cock was throbbing in perfect time with your moans, his high growing closer and closer the more you called out his name and begged him to slow down. Instead, he removed himself from your neck, pulling your forehead against his to lock eyes with you.

The air between and around you quickly grew tense, a steady thrum of energy bringing you closer to your high as Illumi's dark eyes melted into a bloody, crimson shade. "Cum for me.", he moaned into your mouth, head dipping to pierce your skin with his fangs. Without warning, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, curses and pleas tumbling from your lips as the stinging pain of being bitten melded into overwhelming pleasure. Your mind grew numb as you came, your arousal spraying over Illumi's lap as he drank you in. And you let him, body trembling and unable to come down from the violent high he'd brought upon you.

You've got my body, flesh, and bone

The sky above, the earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

Illumi released your neck after a long moment, tongue lapping up a few stray beads of blood as he pulled your hips flush against his and filled you with his seed. Another tremor crept down your spine at the sudden hot, sticky substance filling your womb, Illumi whispering sweet nothings and pretty vows into your ear to coax you out of the trance he'd locked you in. You blinked once, then twice, to clear the white spots and tears from your vision.

"There you are, little one.~", he purred before placing a kiss on the now bruising bite mark he'd given you, "Was afraid I lost you for a second.". All you could do was whimper, slumping forward to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder. Your scent faintly mingled with sex and iron filled his nostrils, tempting him to finish draining and breeding you. He let you rest, though, leaning back into the chair with his cock still plugging you full as he, too, drifted into sleep for the first time in centuries.

Besides, the venom and cum in your system would need time to take effectively.

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janiehellion · 5 months ago

Text

Close Quarters

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Trapped overnight by a horde of walkers during a supply run, you and Daryl Dixon find yourselves in close quarters with nothing but time on your hands. But can you keep your hands to yourself?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL SEX / BELLY KINK

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.664

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This oneshot is inspired by a post from & dedicated to @ophelialaufey on Tumblr.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

"Keep ya eyes open," Daryl grunted and kept walking. His crossbow hung over his shoulder as his eyes looked left and right in search of any danger. He wasn't much for words, more action than unnecessary chit-chat, but you didn't complain.

Today's task had been simple: Scavenge for as many supplies as you could until night began to fall, and then get back to the safety of the group. And that's exactly what you did, with your supply run partner being once again: Daryl Dixon.

You only nodded, holding your own weapon tightly. For all his rough exterior, you trusted him with your life. Over the last months, you've seen Daryl in action a lot of times already; to your eyes, he seemed to be one of the best survivors among the group. But tonight felt a bit off. It didn't feel like any other supply run; you were uncomfortable, and you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was likely to go wrong.

As the last rays of daylight finally vanished, sudden growls came from out of nowhere. You and Daryl immediately stopped dead in your tracks, your hearts racing in your chest as you realized that a small horde of walkers approached. Still, there were too many to take on, and running was definitely out of line. You had to find shelter, and fast.

"This way," Daryl whispered, tugging at your arm to lead you toward a building. He pushed open the door, and both of you slipped inside, shutting it as quietly as you could behind you. The room was dark and full of dust and the familiar smell of decay.

"Looks like we're in here for the time," Daryl said, walking over to a window and looking out through a gap. "They ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon."

You sighed, trying to steady your breathing. The reality of the situation was hitting you. Being stuck in this tiny, dark room with Daryl Dixon—with a horde of the undead outside—was just what you needed.

Daryl, meanwhile, turned away from the window and explored the room further, but then he suddenly stopped and faced you. "Gonna need to check for scratches," he said, leaving very little room in his tone for argument. "Help me with my shirt."

"Okay, I guess..." You stepped closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt before you lifted it slowly to reveal his stomach. His skin was rough and scarred from the years of survival, but to you, it was mesmerizing.

"See anythin' on my back?" He asked, his eyes boring into yours.

You shook your head, trying to focus. "No, you're... definitely clear."

"Thanks," he said gruffly, pulling his shirt back down. His fingers brushed against your hand as he did, and for a brief moment, you both froze, but the sudden sound of a distant groan made Daryl’s eyes snap back to the window. "Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed. "We should make sure this place is safe."

You followed him as he began to inspect the room, moving from one corner to another. "You need any help?" You asked, trying to keep the stutter out of your voice.

He glanced over at you, his eyes not giving away anything. "Just stay outta the damn way."

You took a step back, feeling a bit disappointed. There was something almost painful about the way he kept you at arm’s length, like a barrier you could never cross. Yet, it only intensified your need to break through his walls.

He still hadn't found anything, so you turned your attention to an old armchair in the corner of the room. You walk over to it, brushing off some of the dust, thinking it might be a good place to take a seat and wait out the night. But in your approach, you had knocked over a few empty glass bottles, which shattered on the floor.

"Be careful, woman," he snapped at you. "Ya wanna attract more of 'em and get us killed?"

You immediately apologized and bent over to pick up the pieces, your face blushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Soon enough, he was done checking out the room, and he sat down in the armchair that you cleaned off. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night," he said, though not to you in particular.

Meanwhile, you sat down on the floor across from him, trying to get comfortable. Daryl's eyes looked at you, though he didn't really manage to hide behind his usual stoic expression. "Ya cold or somethin'?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm okay. Don't worry."

He nodded, and for a moment, you thought the conversation might end there. But then he shifted around in the chair, as if uncomfortable with the silence. "Ya’ve been quiet," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Usually ya've got somethin' to say."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Just… thinking, I guess."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" He asked, still looking at you.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Everything. How things have changed since all of this started."

Daryl grunted, his eyes returning to the window. "Yeah, things've changed alright. Ain't much left in the world."

You didn't reply; instead, you watched him, noticing the way his muscles moved under his shirt and the way his eyes darted around, constantly on alert. It was almost hypnotic—this man who lived on the edge of survival, so strong yet so guarded.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but glance at Daryl’s stomach, where his shirt had risen slightly when he sat down. Your eyes were drawn to the trail of hair that led from his belly button downwards, something you couldn’t ignore, and the more you tried to focus on something else, the more your gaze kept drifting back to him.

Daryl shifted again, his eyes catching yours. "Got a problem or somethin'?"

You looked away quickly, feeling your heart race. "Nope."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, ya can't just sit there starin' at me like that."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

He sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright. What is it ya wanna say?"

You fidgeted around, trying to find the right words. "I just… I guess I'm curious about you. About who you are when you’re not out fighting walkers or scavenging for supplies."

Daryl stared at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "And maybe I don't see the point in talkin' 'bout that."

You shifted on the floor, your movements restless. "Maybe we could make this night less pointless."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I mean, we could talk about something else. Anything, really."

He studied you for a long moment, his expression guarded. Then, unexpectedly, he broke the silence. "Alright, fine. What do ya wanna know?"

You nodded. "What about before all this? What did you do?"

He seemed to ponder the question before answering. "Didn’t do much beyond huntin'."

You smiled faintly, lost in thought. "Sounds like a simpler life."

"Simple don't mean easy," he answered back quickly, looking away again.

Without even thinking, you closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing in your chest and your hands shaking just a little bit as you held them out to him. Why? You didn't really know it yourself. You just did.

"What're ya playin' at?" He growled and narrowed his eyes.

You didn't respond. You went down to your knees in front of him, your eyes locked on his and your fingers brushing against the skin of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he watched you with curiosity.

"You like this?" You asked, your whisper barely audible over the far-off moans of the walkers outside.

Daryl's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. "What're ya tryin' to prove?"

You ignored his question, pressing your lips to his stomach in a matter of seconds. His skin was warm and slightly wet with salty sweat.

"Stop," he growled, but without conviction.

But you couldn't. You did not stop and continued to kiss and lick his stomach while your hands searched for every inch of his body. It was in the way his muscles twitched at your touch, the way his breath hitched—that really turned you on.

"You want this," you whispered, more a statement than a question.

Daryl's eyes blinked fast—part need, part hesitation. He was already at the edge, his breathing ragged, his eyes on you as if he willed himself to fight but failed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice shaking. "Goddamn it… I want it."

That was all the motivation you needed. You reached out and placed your hand on Daryl's thigh, feeling him tense up slightly, but he still didn't pull away.

"I want to suck your cock," you whispered, your hand sliding up his thigh, closer to the bulge in his pants. As you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle, he helped you with shaking hands.

You smiled up at him, your fingers soon enough wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly you leaned forward and pressed your lips to slide over the tip.

You teased him with soft, slow kisses, using just the very tip of your tongue to outline his head. His moans were very low and almost barely audible, but they fueled your lust all the same when you licked off the pre-cum.

"Fuck!" Daryl gasped, his hands gripping the sides of the chair. "Just get on with it."

Your mouth opened wide, and you took him in almost immediately, starting with just the head and letting it slide slowly past your lips. It was almost too much, that feeling of his cock in your mouth, and so you pulled back a bit, swirling your tongue around the head before trying to take him in further.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Daryl mumbled, his eyes closed, as he fought to hold on to some sort of control.

Your hand didn't stop stroking the part of his shaft that wasn't in your mouth, moving in rhythm with your lips and your tongue's movements.

Daryl's hips bucked involuntarily with short thrusts, and every time he pushed forward, you took him deeper, feeling your throat expand around him.

"Ya keep makin' me harder," he said, his voice breaking.

"Good. I want you to be," you grinned around him, and without hesitation, you dove back down on him, taking him in as deep as you could.

"Fuck, keep goin'," he urged. "Ya gonna make me lose it."

You were more than happy to obey, and you quickened the pace of your movements, your mouth sliding up and down his cock. His hands were gripping your hair now, guiding you and pushing you to take him even deeper. His groans were getting louder, sounding more desperate, and you could tell he was close already.

"Jesus, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, his voice trembling. "Gonna blow my load."

You smirked around his cock, but you certainly didn't mean to let him come just yet. Drawing back a bit, you let your tongue slide along the underside of his cock before swirling around the sensitive skin just below its head.

Daryl groaned loudly, his body arching due to the ruined orgasm. "Fuck, don't stop," he pleaded, his hands gripping your hair tighter. "I'm so fuckin' close."

At those words, your lips parted slightly, teasingly, allowing a strand of spit to connect you to his cock before you leaned forward again, but not taking him fully into your mouth.

"Goddamn it," Daryl groaned, his hips bucking reflexively. "Don't play 'round."

But you continued teasing him, your tongue playing with the pre-cum, letting it gather in your mouth before you let it drip back onto his cock.

"Tease me like this," he gasped, "and I'm gonna go fuckin' crazy."

"You want more?" you asked. "You want me to make you come?"

Daryl nodded desperately, his eyes half-closed. "Yes, fuck yes."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, you pulled away once again and began to kiss and lick his cock from the base up, sliding your tongue around his shaft and softly nibbling on it as you moved slowly back up, paying careful attention to every inch of his throbbing cock.

"Shit," Daryl moaned, his hands gripping your hair harder. "Fuck, stop teasin' me."

His moans grew louder as you finally gave in to him, your tongue swirling around his cock like a snake, leaving nothing untouched. Daryl gripped your hair tighter, and his thrusts grew more insistent, pushing you further on his cock as you gagged on him, and you took him deeper still while you could feel his balls tightening and the base of his shaft tensing.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, but you don't stop. You want to taste him and feel him explode in your mouth. "Oh, fuck," he cried out again, his grip on your hair tightening as he cursed. "I'm gonna fuckin' come!"

You sucked hard and long, your tongue twisting around the ridge of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath. With every suck, you could feel the pulsating veins in his shaft, and finally, Daryl came. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth as he shot thick ropes of cum, filling your mouth with the salty, bitter taste of it.

You pulled off of him with a smirk, having swallowed the last of Daryl's cum, your lips glistening with the remaining drops before you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

"You okay?" You asked as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his stomach.

Daryl looked at you, a half-smile on his face as he met your gaze. "Yeah, I'm good."

You leaned in closer, letting your fingers explore the warm, sweaty skin of his belly. "So," you said, your voice playful, "since we're still trapped here, do you want to know what got us into this mess?"

Daryl's eyebrow arched upward in confusion. "What do ya mean?"

You pressed your lips lightly against his belly. "I was just thinking about how all this started. It was your belly that got me going in the first place."

Daryl's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, so that's why ya were starin', huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Your belly's kind of a big deal to me, but I can't really explain," you grinned up at him.

He smirked back in amusement. "Fine, if ya don't wanna."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No need to explain. Only appreciating the view."

"Well, don't get too distracted. We've still got loads of shit to do," he answered, getting up from the chair to prepare to take a quick look outside the window to see how many walkers are still outside and roaming around.

Brushing the dust off your clothes when you got up as well, you turned to Daryl with a little bit of a spark in your eyes. "By the way, Daryl, I hope this check-up was thorough enough for you."

He looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. "This check-up? What are ya talkin' about?" He asked, taking a step back from the window.

You smirked as you got closer again, both your hands running over his belly one more time. "Well, considering how things went down, I think we both should consider this our routine maintenance from now on, don't you think?"

Daryl's eyes widened for a second before he suddenly let out a small laugh. "A routine maintenance, huh? Alright. But next time, maybe we'll save the check-ups for a safer time. Now, get ya ass up and follow me."

"Deal. But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to the next routine check-up already," you laughed, following him to the door and closing it slowly behind you.

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oswildin · 2 months ago

Text

Guess Who? (Loki x GN!Reader) Halloween Oneshot/Short

Summary: You manage to convince Loki to come to Stark’s Halloween Party, but why were you so insistent he came?

Rating: All ages/SFW

A/N: just a fun little oneshot, kinda idiots in love trope, best friends who are oblivious they are in love, fluffy/humour

Divider by @whimsicalrogers

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

“Well… it’s exactly what I said. I’m not coming. I don’t know what else it could possibly mean-“

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“A themed party with strangers in tacky costumes? A ridiculous dress code to which I will be forced to follow?”

“It’s fun!”

“It’s tedious.”

You pouted slightly, shoulders sagging a little as the God of Mischief leaned against the counter, his cup of freshly brewed tea steaming next to him. His arms folded over his chest, a brow raised as he looked at you, seeing the disappointment in your gaze.

Halloween.

It seemed you were rather excited about the yearly mortal tradition, whereas Loki… Well, you heard him. He thought it was ‘tedious’. Of course, Stark was throwing a party - shocker - and whilst you weren’t usually fussed about them, this one was different because it was Halloween. Plus, you may have spent far too long making your costume. Sure, you could’ve just bought one, but it gave you something to do in your free time and you were pretty proud of it.

“I thought Halloween would be right up your alley.” You quipped, raising a brow of your own in a silent challenge. “You don’t even need to dress up, you can just shape shift into something scary.” You paused, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Or you could just go like this.” You teased, gesturing towards him. “I mean, you’re pretty scary.” Loki tilted his head, biting back a smirk.

“Ha. Ha.” He breathed out, deadpan. You grinned, eyes crinkling before a sigh escaped.

“Come on, please.” You took a step closer, standing before him. “You won’t have to talk to anyone else except me, we can just stand off to the side and judge everyone’s costumes. I know you’ll love to do that.” You tried, trying to coax him into agreeing to attend the party. Loki narrowed his eyes slightly, picking up on some hidden agenda you seemed to have behind your encouragement.

“Why is my attendance so important to you?” He asked skeptically, making you shrug faintly, trying to appear casual. “Barton is choosing not to attend and yet, I don’t see you badgering him.”

“Because he’s taking his kids trick or treating!” You argued, seeing Loki roll his eyes. “Besides, we’re best friends-“

“I’m your best friend-“

“We’re best friends-“ You repeated, making Loki smirk as he reached round to grab his cup from the counter, turning slightly away from you to do so. “And I may have a surprise for you.”

Loki’s brows raised at those words, his actions pausing. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you once again. “A surprise?” He asked, curious as you nodded. “For me?” Another nod. Loki hummed lowly in thought, lifting his cup to his lips, taking a small sip. You watched him intently, tilting your head and batting your eyelashes ever so slightly. He had to admit, whenever you pulled that move it was hard for him to say no.

With a heavy sigh, Loki conceded.

“Fine.”

You let out a whispered ‘yes’ in triumph, a smile tugging at your lips. “But-“ Loki raised a finger. “I am not staying until god knows what hour nor am I to be expected to enjoy myself.”

“Seems fair.” You mused, unable to stop the small giddy shuffle of your feet as you cleared your throat. “I promise, it will be worth it.”

Loki stood outside your quarters door, dressed in a tailored all black suit. He refused to adhere to the costume dress code, it was bad enough he was going, let alone having to dress as some sort of ghoul, the undead or something else that was considered ‘spooky’ by the humans. Knocking, he could hear rustling movement behind the door, along with a ‘just a second’. Adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket, he glanced down the corridor, spotting the familiar figures of Wanda and Vision who had seemingly dressed up as a couple - although, the reference of their outfits was lost on him.

Whilst his gaze was turned, he heard the door click open, seeing your familiar figure out the corner of his eye before he turned to look at you.

Loki’s brows raised, lips parting as he took in your appearance. You were stood with a big grin on your face, arms spread in a ‘ta-da’ manner, clearly extremely pleased with your efforts.

“So… what do you think?” You asked, watching his face closely.

Loki blinked, blue eyes trailing over your form, trying to find the right words.

“You’re…” He muttered. “Me?”

Yes, you had spent the last few weeks putting together a very rough ensemble that was supposed to look like Loki’s Asgardian attire. The horns that sat upon your head had been made out of cardboard, painted gold and fixed to you via an elastic band that went around your head. The emerald cape looked like an old velvet blanket that you’d managed to clip together around your neck with a number of safety pins, draped around your all black one piece that you had decorated with gold paint for details. It was very makeshift.

You nodded your head to his question, the cardboard horns moving with you as Loki processed the sight before him. He didn’t know if he should be offended or flattered at first, before he saw the genuine joy in your eyes. And knowing you… He knew it was a compliment and not a jab.

“Well… It’s certainly…” Loki cleared his throat, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “A look.” He mused playfully. “How long did you spend on this?”

“Too long.” You replied wryly, letting out a small laugh, looking down at your attire. “A few weeks?” You shrugged.

“So, this is what you have been doing in your free time?” He asked, raising a brow as he gestured towards you. Another nod from you. “You spent hours putting this together? You could’ve just… purchased a costume though, correct?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to go as you.” You answered lightly, meeting his gaze again. There was sincerity in your tone, making Loki’s own gaze soften a fraction. “Halloween isn’t just about dressing as something scary or creepy-“ You began to explain. “You can also dress as something you like, or someone you admire or-“

“You admire me?” Loki blinked, surprise colouring his tone. You furrowed your brows, pausing.

“Well… yeah?” You replied, your words coming out in a ‘I thought that was obvious’ tone. “But not in a ‘wow, he’s a God, he’s so cool’ way, in a ‘that’s my friend and he’s kinda cool I guess’ way.” Your words made Loki let out a sound that was a mix of a scoff and a laugh. “I didn’t do it so your ego got bigger.” You added playfully, giving him a knowing look.

Loki couldn’t stop the slow grin that tugged at his lips, the sentiment that you had chosen to dress as him for the costume party was… strangely warming. “I’m afraid that’s the exact outcome this-“ He gestured towards your attire. “-has created.” He teased, leaning casually against the doorframe, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets. You rolled your eyes in amusement. “In fact, I fear my head may be too big to get through the entrance to the party-“

“Uh uh- You said you were coming, so you’re coming.” You pointed up at him, tone stern, making Loki inwardly groan. “I accepted the fact you didn’t want to dress up and let you wear your Gucci suit.” You added, making Loki narrow his eyes into a playful glare. “It’s called compromise, Loki.” With a dramatic sigh, Loki conceded again.

“Fine.” He muttered, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Let’s go make people think I’m even more narcissistic than they already believe me to be.” He quipped, raising a brow. “Considering I will seemingly be in my own company for the evening.” He mused, smirking faintly as he eyed your costume once again. He had to admit, he was secretly… endeared by it. And you did look rather good in green and gold, not that he would admit that aloud.

“If I must attend this farce, it may as well be in company I can endure.” You lowered your voice, mimicking his way of speaking. “Myself, of course. Because my own company is far superior than any of you mere mortals.” You raised your chin, feigning haughtiness as Loki raised brow, tilting his head slightly. His features morphed into a look of amusement and feigned indignation.

“I do not sound like that.” He furrowed his brows, watching as you grabbed your bag.

“I do not sound like that.” You mimicked again.

“Please tell me you’re not going to do that all evening.” His amusement slightly faded, a hint of genuine concern creeping into his voice as he took a step back to allow you to leave your quarters.

“Don’t be absurd.” You commented, one last impersonation before you let out a laugh, closing the door behind you. “No, it’s exhausting being you.” You waved a hand, making Loki let out a breath of relief, hearing you begin to head down the hall. After a moment, he realised what you had said, his lips parting, brows creasing as he quickly moved after you.

“Uh- I don’t think ‘exhausting’ is quite the right word!”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fic #loki oneshot #Loki mcu #marvel loki #Loki #loki fanfic #marvel x reader #loki fluff

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 5 months ago

Note

I remember reading someone say that they hope Seviathan ISN’T a jerk and if/when he comes to the hotel, he actually wants to help Charlie in her mission of redemption…then ends up with a crush on Vaggie, lol.

Mate, how funny would that be? 😂😂😂 You’re here to genuinely help your ex, then end up falling for her girlfriend. While it isn’t socially acceptable or appropriate, I think it’s cute. I guess Vags has that sort of affect on people.

oh man, if we go the absolute CHAD route for Sevi WHILE imagining him getting a crush on Vaggie... like, dude meets scary lady, doesn't notice how scary his EX gets over him staring at HER girlfriend, and maybe it's time for Sev to have some personal epiphanies?

Seviathan: "Knock knock? Yo Charles-a-lot! This really your hotel?"

Angel Dust: "Oh heyyy, look what the undead boy band dragged in..."

Husk: (snorts)

Charlie: "Sev? SEV! Holy shit what are you doing here!?"

Angel Dust: "Wait a sec, Sev? As in-"

Husk: "Oh shit."

Angel Dust: "Ex boyfriend on the hotel premises oh this is gonna get INTERESTIN'. Bet on how quick he gets maimed?"

Husk: "Fuck no. She'd kill us too."

Angel Dust: "Sigh... S'pose so. Spoil sport spear bitch..."

Seviathan: "I heard about your thing! Figured you could use a hand with the whole... uh... Sinner pet project obsession."

Charlie: "But Isn't there a game on right now-"

Seviathan: "Nah, everything's blocked out by replays of your little slap fight with heaven. Which I totally could've helped with too, if you'd given me a heads up first."

Charlie: "I did call? I said goodbye in case I died and-"

Seviathan: "Didn't hear it. You know I don't check voice mail. Everyone's always blowing up my inbox trying to to hit me up."

Angel Dust: "Oh my fucking gay."

Husk: "Would you hit that?"

Angel Dust: "If I did ya'd have to shoot me afterwards."

Seviathan: "Anyway, that's how I found out you'd actually went ahead and tried this thing out for real! And made a real mess of it. You totally cut off the final quarter of the best game of the year with all that live coverage."

Charlie: "Sorry, sorry- we REALLY didn't have say in the timing on that-"

Husk: "No shit."

Seviathan: "Eh. The team's played like shit anyway ever since I left."

Charlie: "Didn't you get kicked off for hogging the ball-"

Angel Dust: "Shocker."

Husk: "Never would have fucking guessed."

Seviathan: "Not dropping the ball isn't the same as hogging it and I never drop the ball on anything. You sure have though!"

Charlie: "I have? Where? Or er with what??"

Seviathan: "This hotel lobby for a start. Where's the billiards table!"

Charlie: "Ohhh. We don't have one."

Seviathan: "Why the hell not???"

Charlie: "No one's asked?"

Seviathan: "Well what the fuck does everyone here DO all day long? You've got actual people staying here, right? You're not still playing pretend hostess to stuffed animals and stuff?"

Angel Dust: "I kinda hope Vaggisaurus kills him."

Husk: "Don't get your hopes up. You know she's whipped and Charlie's a fucking sweetheart."

Angel Dust: "A bestie can dream..."

Charlie: "No I am NOT playing pretend hostess, thanks for mentioning it by the way, in public, in front of my friends- and yes we DO have guests at the hotel! Some of them here of their own free will even!"

Husk: "Not it."

Angel Dust: "Bullshit."

Charlie: "They have lots of fun activity time too! Even when we're not doing talk circles!"

Seviathan: "Uh huh."

Charlie: "Yes! Mostly we all like watching TV- well almost all of us- or listening to the radio to pass the time, or hanging out chatting, or reading-"

Seviathan: "So they're pussies."

Husk: "Hey."

Angel Dust: "Down, pussycat~"

Husk: (HISS)

Charlie: "They are NOT-"

Angel Dust: "Speakin' of pussy...."

Seviathan: "Yeah we're talking about you, what about it? Anyway."

Seviathan: (puts hand on charlie's arm)

Angel Dust: "Here it comes-"

Seviathan: "I've been thinking about us lately, and-" (spear thuds next to his head) "-SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT?!?!"

Husk: "Damn. She missed."

Angel Dust: "Just an openin' shot, Mr. Whiskers." (rubs all four hands together) "Oh this is gonna be goooood~"

Charlie: "Vaggie!" (BEAMING) "I thought we talked about this?"

Vaggie: (swoops down) "He's not a gust yet, babe, so I can greet him spear first if I want to."

Charlie: "Sev's my ex boyfriend though!"

Vaggie: "I know."

Vaggie: (yanks spear out of wall and holds it under his throat) "What the fuck are you doing here."

Seviathan: "I, uhh- is, is that angelic steel..?"

Charlie: (laughing) "Vaggieeee. You're scaring him~"

Angel Dust: "An' turnin' her on."

Husk: (elbows him)

Vaggie: "We said hotel security would be my thing until the threat of random asshole angel attacks went down, remember hun? This is my day job."

Charlie: "I never said I was complaining! Juuuust commentating!"

Vaggie: "Alright then."

Vaggie: (backs Seviathan against wall with her spear)

Vaggie: "Talk. Now."

Seviathan: (swallows hard) "I'm swinging by to help Charlie with the hotel thing-"

Vaggie: "Why."

Seviathan: "She used to be my girl, a guy's got a responsibility-"

Vaggie: "Did she ask you to."

Seviathan: "No? She, she doesn't have to-"

Vaggie: "Did you ask her if you could help."

Seviathan: "It's no trouble, I don't mind a little extra work-"

Vaggie: "Are you here to ask for a room in our hotel."

Seviathan: "In this place? Fuck no, you should see the digs I have, I've got a-"

Vaggie: "So you're trespassing."

Angel Dust: "Ohhh!"

Seviathan: "I'm wha-"

Husk: "Fucking screwed."

Vaggie: "You came here just to swan all over her hard work and stroke your own ego, is what I'm hearing."

Seviathan: "Hey girl, I'm here to he-ULP-!"

Vaggie: "Shut up." (over shoulder) "Charlie?"

Charlie: "Mm....wellllll... Since he's already here, as long he really does help, I'm fine with it. He's harmless. He'd just... um..."

Husk: "A fuckhead."

Angel Dust: "Don't take my fav word in vain, baby."

Charlie: "He's my ex for a reason."

Husk: "Fuck you."

Angel Dust: "Much better."

Vaggie: "He's your ex for an annoying reason, or for being an actual jerk who's earned getting kicked out on his ass for once in his life kinda reason, sweetie?"

Nifty: (popping up from floorboards) "Is he a BAAAAD BOYYYY~?"

Seviathan: "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAt-"

Vaggie: "What part of shut up there's a spear at your throat don't you get."

Seviathan: (jaw clicks shut)

Charlie: "Nope! He's not a boy boy! Just annoying! Mostly."

Nifty: "DAMN IT."

Angel Dust: "How's the huntin' goin' today, Nif?"

Nifty: (pouts) "The last baby bug got away... I hadn't even finished ripping it's little legs off while the mother bug watched it squirm..." (slinks back under floor)

Everyone else: "....."

Charlie: "... so! (claps hands)

Charlie: "Sev, if you really wanna help out that's fine, we're still finishing up the last touches on the new hotel if you feel like doing a little paint work and furniture moving!"

Seviathan: "....."

Charlie: "Sev?"

Seviathan: "..."

Angel Dust: "Think we broke him."

Husk: "I think it's the fucking spear pressed up against his fucking windpipe."

Charlie: "Oh! Whoops. Vaggie, please?"

Vaggie: ".... fiiiine."

Vaggie: (steps back) (wipes spear on nearby curtains) "Answer her."

Seviathan: (staring) "What's your name?"

Vaggie: "Hotel manager. Answer her."

Seviathan: "Charlie-" (still staring at vaggie) "-I would LOVE to help set up your pet sinner terrarium thing!"

Vaggie: "Our WHAT."

Husk & Angel Dust: "Hey!"

Charlie: "It's a hotel, Sev."

Seviathan: "Uh huh yeah sure, that thing!"

Vaggie: (lifts spear)

Charlie: (gently pushes gf spear back down) "Oh I'm going to regret this... ok. Let's, get you some gloves and stuff."

Seviathan: "Alright!" (holds hand up to vaggie) "Give me some skin!"

Vaggie: "...." (lifts spear again)

Charlie: "Excuse us Sev just ONE moment!"

Charlie: (pulls gf safe distance away)

Charlie: "Vaggie..? You okay?"

Vaggie: "Fine."

Charlie: "You're eye's, um. Twitching." (tenderly brushes fringe away from gf's eye) "Are you okay with this? He doesn't have to stay."

Vaggie: "No. It's fine." (sighs) "I want to be okay with it."

Charlie: "It's okay if you're not!"

Vaggie: "I will be, sweetie. Just give me a minute." (leans up for kiss) "But. I need to go do a Niffty and stab something. Really hard. Right now. And if I stay here one minute more, it's gonna be him."

Charlie: "Okay." (giggles) "Have fun stabbing things that aren't my ex?"

Vaggie: "I'll try to."

Seviathan: "Oh hey I'm awesome at stabbing! And the thrusting!"

Angel Dust: "PLEASE stick around, toots."

Husk: (mumbling) "Please fucking stick him."

Seviathan: "Long hard things are totally my thing, I could give you a few pointers on handling them no problem!"

Vaggie: "No."

Seviathan: "Oh come on, how about a hands on demonstration-"

Vaggie: (at charlie) "Keep him away from the kitchen knifes. He looks like he'd stab himself showing off and make a mess."

Charlie: "Heheh~ I'll try to."

Vaggie: "Good luck with that babe." (smooches her) (flies off to go stab)

Seviathan: "...."

Seviathan: "She single?"

Charlie: "She- NO? She is not??"

Angel Dust: (whisper hissing) "Is he blind? Didn't they just kiss???"

Seviathan: "We'll she's gonna be single soon, but not for long."

Husk: "He's dead."

Demon Charlie: "Her girlfriend is ME, Seviathan."

Seviathan: "Girlfriend? So she's-"

Demon Charlie: "VERY VERY GAY and TAKEN, YES."

Seviathan: "Wait, with you? Seriously??"

Demon Charlie: "Yes. Me. For s e v e r a l. Happy. Years."

Husk: (lifts bottle) "Cheers motherfuckers."

Seviathan: "Ohhh, so all that making out with you she did, it wasn't just her flirting with m-"

Angel Dust: "Holy. Fuck."

Demon Charlie: "SHE WASN't FLIRTING WITH YOU! SHE LOVES ME- SHE WANTS TO KILL YOU!!!"

Seviathan: "I'd let her, to be honest. She's hot."

Husk: "Let her?"

Angel Dust: "Dude."

Husk: "The fuck does he mean, let her? He wouldn't have a fucking choice-"

Demon Charlie: "On second thought maybe you SHOULD'NT help out with the hotel, actually!"

Demon Charlie: (grabbing him by scruff of the neck and marching towards door) "It was VERY nice of you to drop by, PLEASE go have a good rest of your life, you'll probably have a LONGER one if you live it away from here!"

Seviathan: "Aww Charlie, getting nervous over having competition?"

Husk: (spits out drink)

Demon Charlie: "You are SOOOOOO not competition! You might end up being another hotel fatality though!"

Angel Dust: "Bet on which of 'em kills him first?"

Husk: "Shut up I'm trying to listen."

Seviathan: "I just think a woman like that should have her pick from the best hell can offer!"

Demon Charlie: "I'm the princess of hell???"

Seviathan: "Sure, but you hardly ever act like it."

Demon Charlie: "I...! She, she doesn't mind me being like me. She-"

Seviathan: "What, a commanding woman like that is fine with a spineless partner? No offence. But come on."

Angel Dust: "Alright, now I'm gonna kill him."

Husk: "Let her do it herself."

Angel Dust: "Hmph!"

Seviathan: "She's never asked you to try being more of an actual princess sometimes?"

Demon Charlie: "No, she... Not like, not like that..."

Seviathan: "Not like that, huh?"

Demon Charlie: "No." (yanks open door) "And our relationship has NOTHING to do with you."

Seviathan: (grabbing doorframe) "But you know it could."

Demon Charlie: "NO IT WON'T. COULDN'T! WILL NOT, EVER!!!!"

Seviathan: "So why're you throwing me out of your silly hotel thing, then?"

Demon Charlie: "....."

Seviathan: "Scaaaared...?"

Demon Charlie: (drops him) (shuts door) "I trust her."

Seviathan: "Said like no one who ever got dumped so their girl could be with me."

Demon Charlie: "I trust her not to ACTUALLY kill you, I mean."

Seviathan: "Fuck I hope she tries... Maybe I'll let her pin me again."

Husk: (SNORTS) "'Let her'..."

Angel Dust: "He's gonna earn a fucking Darwin award at this rate."

Seviathan: (dusting ash off himself) "Kinda impressed you got all demon-ed so fast for this though. That's new!"

Charlie: "I've told you, it only happens when I'm PISSED. OFF."

Angel Dust: "YEAH DOLLFACE GET HIS ASS!"

Seviathan: "I know but like, it used to take a lot to get you all riled up. I hardly ever got to see you like this in bed even. Maybe if it'd been easier we'd still be a thing?"

Charlie: "You know I realllly really doubt it since I dumped YOU."

Husk: "HA!"

Angel Dust: "WOOOOO! BURRRRRN!"

Charlie: "And I dumped you partly BECAUSE you kept trying to 'rile me up' so you could try having sexy scary demon sex with me!"

Angel Dust: "OHHHHH!!!!"

Charlie: "Not that you ever even DID!"

Husk: "Fuck yes."

Charlie: "Because I always had waaaaay more fun sleeping on the COUCH!"

Husk & Angel Dust: (high five)

Seviathan: "...."

Seviathan: "So that's a no to having a threesome with us once I'm dating your soon to be ex girlfriend, huh?"

Demon Charlie: "SEV-"

Charlie: (deep breath)

Charlie: "... why do you even think you like her, Seviathan? You don't know her. She doesn't like you. You don't even know her name."

Seviathan: "She's hot."

Charlie: "Can We Try To Be More Specific, Please."

Seviathan: "I don't know? It was cute how she tried bullying me against a wall like that. All snapping orders like she was some kinda drill sergeant, or like a hot coach lady, treating me like some kinda bug crawling by her shoe- Who doesn't think that's hot?"

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: "Ohhhh."

Angel Dust: "Oh FUCK!"

Husk: (laughing) "The motherfucking alpha man-"

Angel Dust: "He's a fucking sub!!!!"

Seviathan: "What, like the sandwich? Shit. Are my pants fitting too tight again-"

Charlie: "Angel Dust."

Angel Dust: "Yesssss oh fearless leader...?

Charlie: (covers eyes) (turns) (escapes)

Charlie: "He's all yours."

Seviathan: "Whoa wait, where're you going-"

Charlie: "I'm gonna go surprise MY longtime girlfriend with kisses!"

Seviathan: "Hold on don't leave me with these two! Charlie!?"

Charlie: (already gone)

Seviathan: "For fuck's sake then I'm outta here too! I didn't come here to hang out with lame guys-"

Angel Dust: "Oh my little baby boy."

Angel Dust: (grins) (leans in) ".....how's the idea of a woman standin' over you with a whip make ya feel?"

Seviathan: "Good?"

Angel Dust: "Mm-hmm. An' if ya was wearing a collar?"

Seviathan: "..." (takes off hat) (holds it over crotch)

Husk: "Great. Another horrible memory to drown away with booze." (swigs)

Angel Dust: (draping arm around seviathan) "C'mon, let's find ya a dom who WON'T for real rail you with her spear~"

Seviathan: "Oh whoa."

Husk: "Oh fucking save me booze..." (down in one)

Niffty: (sobbing under floorboards)

Husk: "What the fuck? What's wrong with you?"

Niffty: "Th-the bad boys..." (sniffling) "... why are so many of them turning out LAME? Even the king of HELL asked me if I was OKAY when he stepped out his door in his ducky slippers and found me lying in front of it like a rug! WHAT IS WRONG WITH BAD MEN THESE DAYS!?"

Husk: "...."

Husk: "Here."

Husk: (hands down drink)

Niffty: (hands popping out to grabby grabby) "IT'S SO SAAAAAD HUSK!" (snatches) (gulps) (gulps) (faint thump and snoring)

Husk: "I can't fucking believe I risked my fucking life for this place."

Husk: (smiles anyway)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #silly nonsese #somehow charlie's ex survives to live another day

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dixons-sunshine · 1 month ago

Text

Crushes Are For School Girls | Quarters Of The Undead

Summary: Crushes—the innocent little glances. The blushing. The butterflies. We all get them. For Georgianna, it was much more than that. The crush in question had those same butterflies, though, stealing the same innocent glances. And everyone seemed to notice…except for her.

Era: Quarry.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex, one sexual comment (from Merle).

Word count: 4k.

Pairings: Georgie x Daryl (unestablished); Vec x Scud (established)

A/N: Thank you, @thevegandarkelf, for helping me with the summary. You’re amazing. Anyways, I hope y’all like this!

“Why am I like this?”

“You have a crush, Ginny. It’s natural to feel this way.”

“Yeah, well crushes suck. Crushes are for school girls, not for women of my grown ass age.”

Vec chuckled as she gingerly rubbed Georgianna’s back, the woman in question being face planted into her pillow on her sleeping bag. “There, there, Gin. It’s okay. You’ll survive this.”

Despite the reassurance, Georgianna still groaned into the pillow, feeling utterly stupid about the turmoil of emotions whirring around in her being. However, the most prominent feeling was the one in her stomach, one which could only be described as butterflies. Butterflies because of something so simple. Butterflies because her hair got tucked behind her ear. Butterflies because of the man that wielded a crossbow and had become the starring attraction in her nightly dreams.

A man named Daryl Dixon.

Georgianna did not even fully understand how she had started spending time with the archer in the first place. Her tent—that she shared with both her best friend, Vec, and Vec’s boyfriend, Scud—had been set up on the outskirts of the camp, right next to those of the Dixon brothers’, so it was only natural that they would have had to converse with one another.

However, the friendship that had bloomed—and surprisingly, rather quickly, too—between Georgianna and Daryl was something completely unexpected. And the crush that Georgianna harboured on the man was also, completely, one hundred percent unexpected—to her more than anyone.

And now Vec—and sometimes Scud—had to put up with her yammering on about Daryl, and she felt rather guilty about it, because she was talking about him a lot.

The sound of the tent flap opening caught both Georgianna and Vec’s attention. Vec stood up from the ground and Georgianna rolled over and sat back up, Georgianna sent a nod in Scud’s direction, which instantly confused the man.

“Woah, what’s up with you?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where’s the eye roll? The scoff? The ‘oh great, it’s you’? Where’s the Marianne I know and don’t love?”

Vec laughed lightly at that, before shaking her head. “She’s too lovesick to insult you today.”

Georgianna sent a glare in Vec’s direction. “Traitor,” she mouthed to her, only earning a falsely innocent smile in return.

“Ooh, okay,” Scud replied to Vec’s statement, his lips contorting up into a smirk. “So what is it about this time? His arms? His shoulders? His hands? His as—”

“Okay!” Georgianna cut him off, rolling her eyes at the laughter that tumbled out of his mouth, before shifting her attention back to Vec. “I don’t talk about him that much, do I?”

Vec hummed and shook her head. “No. Nope, not really. You pretty much talk about him the same amount I did back when I first started dating Josh.”

“Jesus, I’m that bad?” Georgianna whispered to herself, mildly horrified at that admission. “Fucking hell, I need to be put down.”

“You talked about me a lot?” Scud mused in a sickeningly lovestruck tone of voice, coming up to stand next to Vec, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her.

Vec rolled her eyes and lightly shoved him, not enough to do any damage. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she told him, trying to calm the heat that formed in her cheeks.

“Never,” Scud chuckled. He wrapped his arm around Vec’s shoulders and pulled her into him, before pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re so cute when you blush, y’know that?”

“Yeah? Well—”

“If you two wanna get down and dirty tonight, just let me know so that I can move my sleeping bag to someone else’s tent,” Georgianna chimed in, drawing the couple’s attention back to reality.

Scud rolled his eyes, but made no effort to remove his arm from its position around Vec. “Who would you even stay with? I thought Vec was your only friend.”

“Very funny,” Georgianna replied in a monotone voice.

“I know who would willingly offer to let her stay with them,” Vec voiced, a small, teasing smirk on her face. “I’ll give you a tip. Their name rhymes with ‘Meryl’.”

“Wow, you’re super subtle about that,” Georgianna scoffed, pushing herself up from her sleeping bag. She grabbed her pencil and sketchbook from her bag, before sending Vec a small smile. “I can offer up an hour of me being away from the tent. I’m gonna be out by the main campfire. Just stay away from my sleeping bag. I would highly prefer not to sleep next to Scud’s jizz stains tonight, thank you very much.”

The blush that coated Vec’s cheeks was bright enough to make tomatoes jealous. However, she simply nodded at her. “Thanks.”

Whether something would happen between her and Scud in that one hour, she did not know. What she did know, however, was that the younger Dixon brother was fixing up his crossbow by the campfire, with nobody else around for the time being, meaning that Georgianna and Daryl would be completely alone… It was the perfect set up.

Closing the tent flap behind her, Georgianna let out a small sigh, before making good on her words and trudging forward towards the campfire. The Hawkins woman was surprised by the lack of chatter that night. Usually, most of the adults in the camp would talk away until they absolutely had to go back to their tents. Those late night talks was something unofficially instituted to attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy in a crazy world run by the undead. However, that night, there was absolutely nobody around. It seemed like everyone had decided to turn in early that night. Well, everyone except a certain blue-eyed archer.

Georgianna did not even notice Daryl until she was standing a mere few feet away from him. Admittedly, she was so deep in thought that, had he not cleared his throat, she probably would have gone and sat right on his lap, completely unaware that the seat was otherwise occupied.

Georgianna’s eyes widened in surprise, before she schooled her expression to one of nonchalance, a friendly smile on her face. “Daryl, hi.”

The archer nudged his nose up in a half nod. “Hey, Georgie.”

The way he said her name, the gruffness that laced his tone, but mixed with a softness that was reserved purely for her—at least, if she chose to believe what Vec told her—had her weak in the knees. However, she forced herself to remain upright, refusing to make a complete fool of herself in front of the man she so desperately wished she did not have a crush on.

“Uh, mind if I sit?” she asked softly, motioning over to the chair next to him.

Daryl shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Georgianna nodded and sat down in the seat. Although this was not the first time that she had spent time with the archer, this time around, it just felt… different. She could not fully explain it.

Daryl shifted his attention back to his crossbow, fiddling with the strings as Georgianna opted to occupy her mind with her drawing. Free time became a luxury, and she truly treasured just being able to sit down and draw. She used to be able to sketch whenever, but with the world in shambles, she found herself lucky if she were able to even glance at her sketchbook once a week.

As she went about drawing, her legs curled up beneath her on the chair, Daryl took the opportunity to steal glances at her. In his mind, she truly looked ethereal in that moment. Her hair was tied up into a loose ponytail, but a few stray pieces of hair fell in wispy, curly strands in her face, acting as a curtain between her and the real world. Her brown, chocolate eyes were lightened by the glow of the campfire, giving them a more amber-like tone, and her cheeks were slightly pink, a colour that Daryl thought suited her.

God, she is gorgeous, Daryl thought to himself.

Daryl did not know exactly when he started developing feelings for the woman next to him, but he did know that his feelings were completely justified. She was damn near perfect in his eyes. She was so kind, so nice, and so goddamn considerate. She could be such a chatterbox, but whenever it came to him, she did not talk his ear off. It was like she could read his cues like the back of her hand, and she knew exactly when to back off and give him his space.

She was such a genuine person, and he could not help but feel drawn to her. Despite many attempts to put some distance between them, to withdraw himself from her until she got the hint, he just could not help it. He kept going back. She made him feel like less of a piece of garbage. She actually treated him like a human being, which is more than could be said for ninety nine percent of the other members of the group.

Realizing that he was staring at her for a beat too long, he ducked his head, instead focusing back on his crossbow. He just thanked whatever god was out there that she was too occupied with her drawing to realize his slip up.

“So,” Daryl began, surprisingly being the first one to strike up a conversation, “how long have ya been doin’ that? Drawin’, I mean.”

Georgianna looked up at him, a bright smile on her face, one that had his stomach doing somersaults. “Not long, actually. I didn’t pick up the hobby until I was twenty-five. One of my students told me once that they bet I couldn’t recreate the Mona Lisa, and I proved them wrong.”

“I bet it looked great,” Daryl replied, placing his crossbow down on the ground next to him.

“Oh, no. It looked like dog shit,” Georgianna laughed, glancing between her drawing and the man next to her. “But it was a fun challenge. It made me realize that I wanted to be able to do that, you know? Create pictures from my mind alone. So I bought myself a bunch of supplies and every nigh, before bed, I’d draw anything and everything just to get some practice in. My TV, my coffee mug, my stuffed rabbit—”

“You had a stuffed rabbit? At twenty-five?” Daryl mused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. That little piece of information was actually rather adorable.

Georgianna rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yes, I did. It was a gift from my dad when I turned nine. He…” she trailed off, her smile dimming at the thought of that awful time in her life. “He bought it for me as a way to help me cope with what happened with my—my mother.”

Daryl frowned slightly at the clear shift in the mood. The small, curious part of him wanted to ask what she was talking about, about what had happened with her mother, but the other, more logical side of him told him not to. She never pressed him for answers on anything he revealed of his life before, so he would respect that kindness she had showed him by reciprocating the sentiment.

“Yeah, I get that. The thing holds sentimental value or some bullshit like that, right?” Daryl said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Georgianna smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Some bullshit like that.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her sketchbook and letting it rest on her lap. “I wish I could have grabbed it before we left the city. It’s the one thing that can’t be replaced for me.”

Daryl hummed in acknowledgement. Not really knowing how to go about the situation, and clearly sensing that Georgianna needed a pick-me-up, he opted to change the topic. “What were ya drawin’?”

“The landscape,” Georgianna replied, motioning over to the treeline just beyond the array of tents. “The scenery is beautiful. I could get into what exactly I find beautiful, but something tells me that you’re not really into the whole “nature is a wonder” thing.”

“You’d be right ‘bout that,” Daryl chuckled. He looked back over to Georgianna, right in time to see her pull up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing something he had somehow never noticed until that point. “You have a tattoo?”

“Oh! Yes, I do,” she confirmed, twisting her body slightly to extend her arm and show him the picture permanently ingrained in her skin. “It’s a bunny tattoo.”

“From what ya told me jus’ a few moments ago, it seems pretty fittin’,” Daryl told her, leaning back in his chair. “When did ya get that?”

“About two years ago,” Georgianna replied after a moment of thinking. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo of an animal, and what better one to get than the one that holds the most sentimental value to me, right?”

“Right,” Daryl agreed with a light hum. “Ya really seem to like rabbits. So how much do ya cry when I bring dead ones back from my hunts?”

That made Georgianna laugh. The sound was like music to the archer’s ears, and Daryl felt a sense of pride knowing that he was the one that had caused it. It made him feel good about himself.

“Yes, I like rabbits, but I don’t cry when you bring dead ones back. I know that it’s vital for our survival. Their meat feeds us, but most importantly, they feed the kids. Carl, Sophia… The rabbits’ meat ensure that the kiddos don’t go to bed hungry. To me, that means that their sacrifices don’t go in vain.”

“That’s a nice way’a thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Daryl told her.

“Yeah.” She leaned back in her own chair, her chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement as she gazed at Daryl. “I guess rabbits just really mean a lot to me. As a kid, my dad would take me and my brother out camping, and he’d always take us to this place in the woods where the rabbits were just about everywhere. They did not fear humans at all. I even woke up and found a baby bunny sleeping on my legs once. It was the cutest thing ever.”

“So ya really like rabbits.” It was more of a statement than a question, but he got an answer anyway.

“I do. They bring a sense of joy to me. They remind me of some of the happiest times in my life. I know, it’s weird.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, ain’t nothin’ weird ‘bout that. It brings ya comfort. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

Georgianna smiled at him, a soft, genuine one. “Thank you,” she thanked him softly.

“’Course.”

The silence that fell between them was not one of discomfort. That was one thing that Daryl appreciated about the woman; the ability to sit with her in complete silence, and not have it be awkward. She knew exactly when to initiate a conversation with him, she knew exactly when Daryl preferred to sit in relative silence, and she knew exactly when he wanted to be left alone. That alone had been one of the many things that had drawn him to the woman in the first place, and he deeply appreciated her ability to read his social cues—or, well, lack thereof.

However, the silence did not last long at all. It got interrupted, and if looks could kill, Merle Dixon would be six feet under due to the glare Daryl was throwing his way.

“Holy shit, would ya look at this?” Merle laughed loudly, stumbling almost drunkenly towards the pair.

Georgianna instantly felt uncomfortable. She was a people person, but there were a select few people that she just could not bring herself to like, no matter how hard she tried; Shane Walsh, Ed Peletier, and Merle Dixon. And now the latter was ruining the serene moment that Daryl and Georgianna was having.

Wonderful, Georgianna thought to herself, pursing her lips together.

“Fuck off, Merle,” Daryl grumbled, shooting his brother a furious look. “M’not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Now s’that any way to address me in front of this hot piece’a ass, boy? Don’ embarrass me like that, lil’ brother. Not unless you want me to kick your teeth in.”

Georgianna inhaled deeply, held her breath for four seconds, before exhaling again. She was trying really hard not to lash out at the man and his vulgar comments. Despite everything, Georgianna knew how important Merle was to Daryl, and she did not want to risk losing his friendship because she had a fight with his brother, even if said brother was a complete jackass.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” Georgianna declared. She picked up her sketchbook and pencil, before getting up. “Good night, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gently gripped Daryl’s shoulder in greeting, sending him one last smile, before she began stalking back towards her tent. Whether or not Vec and Scud were done doing the devil’s tango, she did not care. She wanted to faceplant into her pillow and throw the towel in for the day.

Daryl watched Georgianna’s retreating figure, his hand gingerly touching where her’s had gripped his shoulder not even ten seconds ago. Unwillingly, a small smile played on his lips, and his heart was galloping in his chest. Her touch felt so nice. Her hand was so soft, so warm. He definitely wanted to feel that again. That thought alone was rather terrifying.

Daryl got snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Merle’s loud, obnoxious voice, and he seriously wanted to punch his brother in that moment. “Jus’ shut up, Merle,” he mumbled, getting up from the chair, picking up his crossbow, and making his way over to his tent.

When Georgianna got back to the tent, she was surprised to find the tent flap already open. When she stepped into the material shelter, she was even more surprised to see Vec sitting upright in her sleeping bag, Scud laying on his back next to her, both pairs of eyes looking at her expectantly.

“So, how’d it go?” Vec asked in a sing-song voice, pushing her glasses up her nose when they slipped off a bit.

Georgianna, choosing to play dumb, frowned at her. “How’d what go?”

Vec scoffed at her. “Babe, please. We’ve been friends since before we could even talk. I know that look. Now spill.”

Georgianna rolled her eyes and sighed over dramatically. “Fine, fine.” She dropped her sketchbook and pencil onto her bag on the floor, kicked her shoes off and dropped down onto her sleeping bag, before sitting up and facing her best friend. “Before you ask, no. Nothing romantic happened. We just talked.”

“You hear that, Vee? They just talked,” Scud chimed in. He pushed himself to sit upright so that he could properly see Georgianna, a smirk on his face. “We,” he began, motioning between him and Vec, “started off just talking, too. Look at us today.”

“Well, Joshua, I’m not Vec, and Daryl most certainly isn’t you, thank god.”

Scud scoffed at that. “Yeah, thank god. Wouldn’t want two completely awesome me’s runnin’ around.”

“Then the camp would descend into complete and utter chaos. Then Deputy Dick would really hate us,” Georgianna quipped, before sighing. “Nothing happened between us, guys. I swear, we just talked. He asked me about my drawing, and then we talked about my love of rabbits. That’s all. Merle cut us off after that.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Vec exclaimed, a groan leaving her. “Fucking idiot. Just had to go and ruin the build up to the first kiss. God, I hate him.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You just skipped a million chapters ahead. Even if he didn’t interrupt, there most definitely would not have been a first kiss.” Georgianna looked down at her hands, a frown tugging at her eyebrows. “I doubt there ever will be a first kiss. I doubt Daryl even likes me like that.”

That made Vec spring into motion. She got up from her sleeping bag—after a bit of protest from Scud, but she quickly shushed him—and plopped herself down next to her best friend. She took Georgianna’s face into her hands and gently forced her chocolate brown eyes to meet her ocean-coloured ones, a serious, no nonsense look in their depths.

“Georgianna Marianne Hawkins, I’m gonna need you to listen to me very closely. I know you didn’t say it outright, but I know what’s whirring around in that pretty head of yours. There is absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, fuck all wrong with you. You’re an ethereal, amazing, goddamn goddess, and he would be lucky to have you. Anyone would be lucky to have you. In fact, I would be surprised if he didn’t want you. I wish you could see what I do. Daryl Dixon is down bad for you.”

“She’s right, y’know,” Scud chipped in. “His eyes follow you when you’re not looking. He thinks he’s being discreet, but the Scudster is amazin’ at pickin’ up stuff like that. That’s a look of enamour if I ever saw one.”

“See?” Vec asked. “He likes likes you, Babe. I promise.”

Georgianna really wanted to believe them. She really did. However, she just couldn’t. The friendship, albeit a relatively new one—barely over two months—she shared with Daryl was just too precious to risk. The crossbow-wielding archer was not particularly known for his openess towards befriending people in the camp. Georgianna had been the only outlier, and if she decided to make a move and it ended up being something he did not want, the friendship could potentially be ruined.

No, she did not want to risk that.

She gingerly removed Vec’s hands from her face, a rather sad smile gracing her features. “Maybe y’all are right. I’ll… I’ll think about it, okay?”

That answer seemed to satisfy Scud, the man in question laying back down, but Vec knew better. She frowned at Georgianna, and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“That didn’t make you feel better, did it?”

Georgianna glanced at Scud, before looking back at Vec. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Give you the whole run down on my emotions and shit.”

Vec slowly nodded. “I’m keeping you to that.”

Vec lightly ruffled Georgianna’s hair, laughing lightly when the woman swatted her hand away, before crawling back over to her sleeping bag a few feet away from her best friend’s.

The three inhabitants of the dark blue tent started settling in for the night. Vec cuddled up next to Scud after exchanging one last kiss with him for the night, before taking her glasses off and setting them down on the makeshift table. Scud’s eyes were already closed by the time Vec was completely settled down.

Despite the little fire in the lamp that illuminated the tent being turned off, sleep did not come instantly for Georgianna. Her thoughts were running free in her head. Georgianna hated crushes. On the rare occasions that she got them, she always got them hard. She wished that she had the ability to keep her feelings under control. She wished that she was not so insecure about relationships. She wished that she felt confident enough to make a move and see where everything went from there. And above all else, she wished that she could suppress her growing feelings towards the younger Dixon brother.

As she slowly drifted off into the welcoming depths of slumber, those thoughts drifted from her mind, instead being replaced by a dream her brain had carefully crafted to bring her some release from her inner turmoil. As sleep finally overcame her, Georgianna laid completely still, blissfully unaware of the fact that in the tent closest to theirs, Daryl Dixon was still wide awake, fighting a losing battle against his own steadily growing feelings, his mind being plagued by images of the woman he cared for more than he had wanted to.

Georgie belongs to me.

Vec belongs to @thevegandarkelf.

Quarters Of The Undead Taglist: @holdmytesseract @weirdoneattheparty @ripleyswife @gothic-pumpkin

You can reach out to me or Taylor to be added/removed from the taglist. We’ll let the other one know about it so that both taglists stay one in the same.

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thevegandarkelf · 19 days ago

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Vec: Josh, you just have the prettiest face I’ve ever seen.

Scud, smiling: Thanks baby.

Vec: We should frame it…

Georgie, a smile on her face: *giggles because she knows where this is going*

Daryl, whispering to Georgie, confused: What is she—

Vec: With my legs

Scud, smirking: I think that can be arranged.

Vec: *blushes, bites bottom lip, smiles*

Georgie, turning to Daryl: There’s your answer.

Daryl: Shoulda known she was gon’ say somethin’ freaky.

Vec belongs to me

Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

QOTU taglist: @ripleyswife @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @holdmytesseract

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

You can reach out to either myself or Krys to be added to/removed from the taglist :)

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see-arcane · 1 year ago

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Thinking about how Jonathan Harker’s role as the haunted vampire hunter-archenemy has been so thoroughly pushed onto Van Helsing's shoulders. Annoying as it is to see in so many adaptations and spinoffs, I can’t help King Laughing about both the comedic and dramatic potential of this misconception as it would apply to future supernatural shenanigans post-Dracula canon

Specifically, how hilarious and/or advantageous it would be to

Have would-be enemies getting bamboozled by one of Dr. Abe’s monologues, as per rambling banter rule, only to have some soft-spoken solicitor drop off the wall behind them and kukri them in half without a word. Or,

Have our good friend Jonathan Harker constantly getting approached by people with a bad case of the Horrors, said people assuming the white-haired, haunted-eyed, knife-wielding, vampiric vendetta fellow must surely be the famous Abraham van Helsing who—by way of a game of Victorian telephone is assumed to have—‘spent a season in close quarters with a horde of vampires, injured the latter without even a holy item on his person, scaled a mountainside and traversed the Carpathians barefoot, and sent Count Dracula himself running after nearly splitting him in two..!’

All while Jonathan ‘Only Assertive Under Duress’ Harker is just sitting there, politely waiting for the chance to speak up and say, no, actually, that professor over there is Abraham van Helsing. His name is Jonathan H—

“Oh, Jonathan van Helsing? My apologies. Was it your father who did all that?”

Jonathan, sweating: “um—"

Van Helsing, not immune to a Good Bit: “No, no, it was him! My child, do not be shy on the matter of your so many harrowing feats! He brings such pride to the Van Helsing name.” :)

Jonathan, internally: (Why this???)

Mina, internally: (It keeps our name out of the wind and away from snooping supernatural ears, darling. I’d rather Mary not open the door on an angry undead horde because they knew where to find Mr. and Mrs. Harker.)

Mina, out loud, the Power of Prank Compels Her: “He really is too modest.” <3

I just think it’s a gimmick that could get some good mileage as a misdirection ploy and a feasible in-universe excuse for why Van Helsing keeps getting all the Dracula Nemesis credit

#it could be such a fun thing to play with if only it wasn't so warped into a literal interpretation Every Single Time by Dracula-media #augh #jonathan harker #abraham van helsing #mina harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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gingernut1314 · 1 year ago

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Demons and Claws

Roronoa Zoro x GN!Reader

Summary: Nightmares have been plaguing your dreams night after night. You can't sleep. Not in the silence. Not in the dark. You can only think of one person in your fear who can put you at ease and you go running for him.

Warnings: fluff, mild anime spoilers (Chopper mentioned)

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: I am flabbergasted I was able to write this as short as it is--cause Oof can I go on and on, buuutt here we are! 😂 I hope you all enjoy!! 🩷

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You started awake, sweat coating your skin and sheets a tangled mess around your legs.

A dream. It has just been a dream. Is what you tried telling yourself. What you told yourself as you yanked and pulled the sheets back over yourself tight, tucking them just under your chin.

A demon’s face. Bloody screaming and crying. The undead. Your friends turning their backs on you.

It had been more than some dream--it had been a nightmare. A mix of all your worst nightmares mixed into one. Nightmares you had started having more often after joining Luffy’s crew.

After seeing your nightmares come to life--seeing that they were living realities that existed in your world.

Nami, whose bed lay just across the way from yours, murmured in her sleep, rolling over onto her other side. It broke through the deafening silence of your shared quarters like some blessing, but as soon as she settled back in, that silence surrounded you again.

Silence like the tomb. Like the dead.

Your nightmares flashed through your eyes again and you shoved yourself upright, chest heaving up and down as fear crawled its way into her heart.

Too dark. It was too dark in this room. Too hot and too quiet.

Did something just move in the corner? No. That was just Nami’s treasure chest. A figure standing by the stairs? No. Just the lamp.

A loud noise sounded through the room. A sound that had you clutching at your sheets tighter at its sudden echo.

Snoring. It was just one of the boy's obnoxiously loud snores piercing through the walls of the Merry.

Your mind thought over the collection of bodies stuffed into the room just next to yours. Your captain must have been the one whose snore was monstrous enough to filter into your room, having found he was the most notorious snorer.

It couldn’t have been Sanji’s or Choppers, both of their snores too breathy to ever truly reach you. Usopp was the next runner-up, his snores nasally with a tendency to get stuck in his throat.

Zoro’s snores were loud and chest-rumbling, but this particular snore, which shook through your room once more, was definitely your captain's.

And though it was your captain’s snore, you thought of the green-haired swordsmen. Of how you had found him a month ago wandering around in the backyard of your home looking for the docks, which had been miles away. He had been very adamant about not being lost, though he hadn’t denied your offer to show him the way.

He was a man of little words, but his humor had been dry and you couldn’t help but laugh--to gravitate towards him.

The docks had been a mess when you two finally made it there. A mess of pirates looking to raid your home and to kill off Zoro’s own crew. He had taken them on with ease--protected you against them, though your being with him had only brought the first of your nightmares to reality.

By the time you had helped fend off the pirates from invading your island alongside the Straw Hats, your home had been burned to nothing but ash by one of the pirates who had slipped away.

And despite the rest of the Straw Hats being wonderfully supportive, Zoro had been the one who had been by your side every step of the way. Had sat with you while you cried for your losses. Had taught you a special way of remembering and respecting the dead, which you two partook on the dawn of each week.

Your room fell silent once more. A silence that had your eyes scanning over the room for every last little monster that could be lurking in the darkness.

Zoro fought by your side--kept you from harm's way and he was the only one you could think of to run to when the demons and shadows came calling for you.

With a mighty breath in and out, you hopped out of bed, feet running over the soft, robin’s egg blue carpet that lay over the floor, shifting to polished hardwood just before the stairs. You rushed up them, feeling as if clawed hands were just inches away from grabbing you around your ankles and yanking you right back into the darkness you were fleeing.

You burst out of the door, shutting it behind you as quietly as you could so as to not wake Nami up.

The storage room was just as dark--just as threatening and you rushed for the door that led into the kitchen.

Though moonlight shone through the four, arching windows, illuminating the space dimly, you still felt those clawed hands reaching for you. Hands that sent you rushing once more out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Chilled, salty sea air hit your nose as you crossed the course floor, all but lunging for the hatch just next to the mast.

You flung it open, taking your time to carefully find your footing on the ladder that was built into the mast, which continued downward into the belly of the Merry.

Descending downward, you were met with more darkness, though a small night light had been set up, giving off enough light for you to see around. You seemed to remember the boys arguing with Usopp about it’s being there, but you weren’t quite sure of its true origins.

The air was never once still as you silently hopped to the polished floor, snores of all kinds filling your ears.

The boy's room was cramped. There was no better word to describe it.

The small room had been fitted with two couches and a table you didn’t think the boys truly needed. Swinging in the far corner, layered on top of each other like sardines, lay the fast-asleep men of your crew.

As you grew closer, the louder the snores grew and the less you could think about the nightmares that had chased you out of your bed in the first place.

The first row of boys, closest to the far sitting couch, was made up of three hammocks. Chopper, being the smallest, lay in the top hammock, snoozing away like the precious angel he was. Next was Zoro, who slept with his hands behind his neck and his ankles crossed over each other. And below him lay Sanji, whose long limbs spilled out over the horrible, near burlap sack-like material that made up their hammocks.

You made a mental note to make them all some proper hammocks as soon as you got supplies from the next island you all landed on.

As carefully as you could, you climbed up onto the fine, blue fabric of the couch and walked over it so you could stand next to Zoro’s hammock. You looked him over. Looked over his is peaceful features--his slack jaw, which rumbling snores fell from and his sleep-tousled hair.

Carefully, as if approaching a rabid dog, you gently laid a hand on his hard-earned bicep and gave the swordsman a firm shake.

“Zoro.” You called on a tone just above a whisper. When he didn’t stir right away, you shook him a bit more harshly, his name falling from your lips in the same manner.

“What the hell--” He began on a hiss, but when his dark eyes snapped open to find you standing there, he huffed out a heavy breath. “...can I help you?” He asked, his voice rougher and deeper from the sleep you had just pulled him from.

“I…” You started, biting your tongue from finishing your thought. You felt yourself grow embarrassed. Embarrassed that you had run all the way down here. Embarrassed that you had woken Zoro up from his deep sleep which he needed.

It was childish really. You couldn’t handle a silly little dream? You were a grown adult. You could deal with it yourself.

A demon's face. Bloody screaming and crying. The undead. Wicked, clawed hands. Your friends turning their backs on you. Your family’s death--

“I had a nightmare.” You breathed, your voice wavering the slightest bit. Zoro blinked at you. A long blink that looked as if he was slowly thinking over your words.

“...okay.” He said after what felt like an hour had passed you by.

“Zoro.” You huffed, annoyed at his absent-mindedness.

“What?” He asked, equally as annoyed. Asked a little too loud for your liking. You shushed him, placing a finger over his lips which he only swatted away, ever the more irritated. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“You’re insufferable.” You whispered harshly, eyes narrowed down at him. “This was a mistake.” But before you could make your way back over the too-nice fabric of the couch you stood on, Zoro grabbed your wrist.

“You know I’m not a mind reader.” He said, his voice growing softer as he pulled you back in. Your body, despite you wanting to still be huffy and puffy with him, relaxed against his strong hold. “Just tell me what you want me to do about it.”

“I just thought…I think I would sleep better in here.” Zoro watched you for a moment, dark brown eyes scanning over your face carefully as if to catch anything he might be missing.

“Like on the floor?” You huffed and Zoro rolled his eyes. “Where then?”

“You’re going to say no.” You went to pull your hand from his grip but he held firm.

“Just say it already.” He urged you, that annoyance filtering back into his voice.

“Can I sleep in your hammock--with you? Please.” You blurted out before you could think too much about it again, “You make me feel safe.”

A sharp yelp escaped your lips as Zoro reached over, grabbed you around the waist, and hosted you up into his hammock.

You heard Chopper stir above you, but soon his soft snores fluttered from his nose once more.

Zoro tucked you into his side, wrapping you up in his strong arms and resting his chin on the crest of your head, a deep breath escaping his nose.

“Next time, just say that first. Could have been back asleep by now.” He grumbled, his voice evening out as sleep slowly fell over him for the second time that night. You nestled deeper into his broad, scarred chest, feeling instantly at ease in his arms. Feeling safe--protected from the demons waiting in the darkness for you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, brushing your fingers over the warm skin of his side.

“Whatever. Go to sleep.” You did as you were told, letting the rock of the sea, the chorus of snores, and Zoro’s strong presence lull you back to sleep.

Tag list: @fanaticsnail

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