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pigcowboys · 8 months

Note

part 3 where percy confesses plss😭

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader

summary: percy finally explains the reason he's been acting so weird.

warning(s): awkward conversations, mutual pining (pls they're very slow..), cursing, love confessions, kisses.

a/n: UGHH THIS TOOK FOREVER IM SO SORRY. tysm for all the notes on both parts !! :) i finally managed to pop out the final part even if it took a minute.. truly trying my best to clear up all the requests in my inbox, just give me a minute!!

part 1 part 2

school was slow - as always.

you watched out the window intently, trying your best to tune out the teacher's nonsensical chatting as you focused on the small robin that was seated outside on the arm of a tree.

you were so bored you were watching a bird.

seriously, school had to be some kind of legal torture method.

the bird flapped around like he was looking for something, tweeting eagerly when he seemed to get his hands onto a random stick.

hmm..must've been building a nest.

he rushed forward to place it, the twig dropping from his mouth as he hopped around, trying to find it almost nervously.

you watched with amused eyes, bracing your head in the palm of your hand as your mind started to wander. school was back in session and because of that, you had made the crushing decision to leave camp half-blood in order to pursue an education.

of course, as per request of your mother. she cared about you - a bit too much you'd guessed because for whatever reason she'd decided to put you in a school that was so strict they cut down on students if their shoelaces were so much as a tad bit too eye-catching.

you tore your eyes away from the bird to focus on your teacher who was still very much into the lesson she was teaching.

only a few more minutes till class had ended - you just had to hang in there..

“and so..” the loud ring of the bell cut your teacher off, simultaneously alerting your body to make the swift action to pull your backpack into your lap, sweeping all your things inside as you hauled yourself up, rushing out the classroom door.

one more day here and you might just throw yourself out the window, you thought.

your scruffy shoes dragged against the polished and shiny marble floor of the hallway as you pushed past the sea of people that were flooding out of each classroom.

you didn't hate this school - well, it was the only school you hadn't accidentally destroyed so, there was no room to complain. it wasn't any camp half-blood though, as bitter as you were about being a demi-god, you still missed being in a community where you all had at least one thing to relate to.

at this school you'd be lucky to find a person who had the same music taste as you..

you pushed past the last person, stomping down the stairs as you spotted a figure in the distance standing just a few ways near the front entrance of your school. you quirked an eyebrow at the fellow, a smile pulling onto your lips as you approached the person closer.

“so, are you stalking me now?” you asked, slightly amused.

percy smiled back at you. “yeah, sure, you wish.”

you pulled him into a gentle hug despite the emotions inside of you being anything but things of that nature, pulling away to exhale dramatically. “gods, if i stay one more second here i might end up maiming my english teacher.”

"between me and you, i can't tell who has a worse school - i got like, 6 pages of math homework today."

you stifled a laugh, causing percy's face to shift to one of unamusement. “thanks for that, makes my life seem a lot less horrible.”

percy stared right ahead at you, expression not changing.

you'd be a goddamned liar if you said you hadn't thought about percy every second you spent away from camp half-blood. i mean, how could you not? this summer was so..weird.. for no reason too. not that you hated it - it was amazing! suuper fun. well, spending like 4 days in the infirmary wasn't very fun but - you digress.

you hadn't seen percy or honestly, really anyone for a few months since summer ended. despite all the phone calls and texting, you'd never had the pleasure of seeing him in real life. you were both so busy too the idea of planning a hangout was completely out of picture.

it was until now, at least.

so, seeing percy jackson parked outside of your school on his beaten blue bike with slightly rusty handle bars on this random autumn afternoon was not apart of your plan. in fact, you were thinking of passing out when you got home and sleeping like a log.

he looked the same, for the most part except his hair was a bit more grown out now, bangs slightly overgrown on his face. you were sure he hadn't gotten a proper haircut in a minute or two. he looked more mature now too - to you at least. his shoulder were broader and his awkward voice that cracked unexpectedly was replaced a more..raspy and warm voice that tickled your ears whenever he spoke.

“what're you doing here?” you asked, offering him a confused smile. he tucked his hand into his pocket

“i wanted to take you out,” he replied, avoiding eye contact.

you eyed him curiously, grabbing the straps of your backpack. “like...on a date?” you joked.

“do you want it to be?”

you paused, slightly stunned by his newfound confidence. a smile unknowingly made it’s way onto your face as you snorted, pushing him playfully as you hid your burning face.

“are we riding over?”

percy smiled, hopping onto the bike as he slid his helmet onto his head. he scooted over to make space for you. “if you're not too scared..”

you smiled back at him, laughing as you threw your bag into the small basket in front of the bike, plopping down behind him. you hesitated to wrap your arms around him, goosebumps growing on your upper arm as you braced against his back.

“you alright back there?”

“mhm..” you mumbled out. “let's go.”

"how'd you get the money to pay for all this stuff?"

you tried your best to keep as much good inside your mouth as you could as you and percy walked side by side. you hadn’t had a proper unhealthy meal in weeks — all thanks to your mom’s newfound obsession with kale and all things vegetarian.

“saved up,” he replied nonchalantly. “nothing too important.” you hummed in response as you tended to the oversized slushee cup that was clutched in your right hand.

“so, what’s the real reason you decided to come find me?” you asked suddenly, catching Percy off guard.

“you’re not a very good listener.”

“and you’re not a good liar,” you quipped, a suspicious look on yo ur face. “why’d you suddenly decide you wanted to hang out?” you didn’t mind that percy had came to visit you — really. it’s just, you two didn’t live near each other at all.

so, for him to suddenly appear outside of your school on a whim seemed too peculiar to just be as simple as “wanting to hang”. percy analyzed you silently before shrugging. “well..i guess I just missed you then?”

you offered him a teasing smile. “is that so?”

“so.”

you laughed to cover up the hard pattering of your heart as your stomach fluttered. was Percy..flirting with you? like..flirting, flirting. you sneaked a glance at him as you continued to work on your slush, jumping when you felt Percy’s hand interlock with yours.

he didn’t look at you, only continued to walk at a neutral pace beside you. moments like these made you question your status with him, like isn’t it slightly weird for friends to be walking hand and hand down the street? is that..normal? well, it is for you two.

“where are we going?”

percy glanced at you. “somewhere..”

you quirked an eyebrow at him. you trusted his judgement — of course but it was starting to get late, that sentiment being heightened by the dimmer sky and the fact you were starting to see more and more street lights power off.

your mother was sure to worry about where you were in a few hours. just what did Percy have to show you? your head was telling you to leave and catch a bus home while the rest of your body told you to shut up and go wherever this sea eyed boy led you.

“just through here, okay?” percy reassured as he stepped to the side, allowing you to go ahead of him. he seemed to of led you to some secluded forest area that was a few ways away from civilization. it was beautiful — amazingly so considering this was New York you two were talking about.

“percy what is this pla—”

your questions was cut off as percy placed his hands over your eyes, earning a nervous giggle from you.

“shh,” he cooed in your ear. “just follow my lead.”

“kind of hard to when I can’t see anything..” you replied, tripping over something that was seated on the floor of the forest. percy was quick to steady you, slowly walking you deeper into the forest.

you mind went numb as the sensation of his own warm skin against yours overtook your receptors. his skin seemed just as warm as it was that summer he spent in the infirmary with you. almost as warm as his hand that clasped your own as you sat on his bed, watching in confusion as he attempted to tell you something.

whatever that something was..

percy stilled behind you as he exhaled shakily. “okay, i’m gonna remove my hands now.” he said, slightly nervous. “don’t like..scream or anything, alright?”

“no promises.” you joked, earning a nervous chuckle from him. you waited expectantly as percy slowly removed his hands from your eyes.

you blinked your eyes open as you admired the scene in-front of you. the heart of the forest was decorated with various different fairy lights and other small lights, and at the center there was a small picnic basket with a picture of you seated next to it.

you recognized the picture from the first day you and Percy had met. you were attending the same school at the time and that day the school had planned a trip to six flags, one that you both attended.

seated knee to knee, you two ascended the tracks and despite all your mutterings about rollercoasters being boring — you still felt your heart jumping as you made your way up. then, right at the drop, your throat closed and you started to grow sick.

yeah..it wasn’t hard to imagine what happened next. percy was nice enough to check up on you after the trip despite being traumatized himself. held all your stuff for you while you threw up the rest of the your breakfast into the six flags public trash bin.

and your teacher, oh, your sweet caring teacher, caught the whole thing in a image that consisted of your sickly looking face attempting to throw up a peace sign and percy’s terrified looking face that was stained with your throw up who hugged you awkwardly, shooting a weak looking thumbs up.

you hated that photo — he knew that. it was probably why he used it.

your breath caught in your throat as you turned to face percy. he looked back at you with a warm smile on his face as he approached you hesitantly. you stood in place, watching him approach you. what should you say? what could you say?

“i’ve.. not been the best with my words..recently..” percy said, slightly embarrassed. “but, um..i don’t think i’d really forgive myself if I didn’t tell you this..” his face was flushed to capacity as he stood in-front of you. your lips trembled as you opened your mouth to say something to no avail.

Percy exhaled, stepping forward as he clasped your hand in his, bringing it to rest against his chest. your eyes casted down to look at your hand which rested there, the pattering beat of his heart loud as ever.

“i really like you.” percy admitted. “more than..more than i’ve ever liked someone in my life.” he stared into your eyes intensely as he tightened his grip on your hand. “and..i want to know if you feel the same way..” he paused. “please?”

you were at a loss for words. i mean, how could you have gaged this was what Percy had planned for so long? and how stupid were you for not seeing it all? everything that happened between the two of you at camp half blood..was he..? no, he was. he was trying to confess to you.

he felt the same way as you.

you slithered your hand out of his touch, bringing it to your side. percy’s face grew slightly alarmed, sadness growing on his face.

your stomach fluttered as you leaned in slightly, tongue darting out to lick your lips before you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing a kiss to percy’s lips. his eyes widened at the contact, freezing before kissing back hesitantly.

Percy wrapped his arms around your neck, holding you tightly as you pulled back from the kiss, a embarrassed look on your face.

“i couldn’t find anything to say.”

percy blinked at you, slightly shaken up. “you’ve said plenty.”

“clearly not enough since you genuinely thought I wasn’t going to like you back.” you huffed. “gosh, and while we’re on the topic — can we talk about how stupid I am?”

“let’s not,” percy mumbled. “we’d be stuck on it for hours.” you nudged him playfully. silence fell over you two again as you stayed still in each other’s arms, having an unspoken staring contest.

“i like you too, percy.” you mumbled. “i always have.”

a smile formed on Percy’s face as he nodded slightly. “yeah, okay..I’m glad.” he cleared his throat. “…do you have like, a specific amount of time you have?”

“shut up and kiss me again.” you replied with a smile, pulling Percy into you as your lips pressed against each other again. for a moment you almost forgot all about where you were and how late it was. all that mattered at the moment was the fact that you and percy were finally together.

well, it was for a moment.

you jumped as percy’s phone went off in his pocket, causing you to pull away from Percy immediately as he searched through his pocket for his cell. You eyed percy curiously as he brought the phone to your ear.

“mom! what’s..going on?.” he replied into the phone with a hushed tone. “yeah..they’re here..” he turned to face you to which you waved at him with a lopsided smile.

“uh, okay — we will..yeah we’ll be there.” he said before ending the call. Percy turned to you with a frown. you titled your head in confusion.

“are you up for dinner at my place? my mom wants to meet my new girlfriend.” he said, wars growing red.

huh. dinner sounded good right about now.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #x reader #x reader fluff #pjo fluff

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dekariosmagic · 8 months

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Safe and Sound- Gale x Tav/Reader

Paring: Gale Dekarios x Tav/Reader (Referred to as Tav)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Word Count: 1,515

Description: Gale seemed to take the news from Elinster fairly well, or so it appeared.

Other Things: Fluff. Hurt comfort. Uses lyrics from the song "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift. Pre-relationship (but they're basically there).

Warnings: Panic attack. References to potential story canon suicide.

Elminster’s news had been a bombshell in and of itself on the party. Gale had seemingly taken the news in stride, perhaps the best in the camp.

Gale made dinner as usual, while everyone avoided the singular topic on all their minds. Tav assumed no one knew how to bring up the topic to the man himself.

It wasn’t until Gale finished his own portion and took off to his tent for an early night, did the rumbling start.

Tav did her usual rounds, trying to ignore the feeling of a rock settled in her chest. And with each companion she talked to with their collective rage and disgust toward the situation and goddess of magic, it just seemed to get heavier.

It felt good to know the rest of them were all on the same page. That they’d rather fight the goddess herself than willingly give up their wizard.

Hells Tav was ready to take the goddess on herself, as foolish as the task would be. The fact Mystra felt she could demand that of him. The ultimate sacrifice to end a threat to her power, and get rid of a loose end in one go. She’d not spoken to him since the orb incident, and this was how she broke the silence?

Her heart hurt for Gale and herself. The entire situation couldn’t be easy, not nearly as easy as he made it sound as he accepted the mission from Elminster at least. Hearing from an ex of a relationship that ended so badly would be tricky, make her his goddess of magic and it was far more complicated.

And her own feelings complicated it. She wanted to grab him by his shoulders and scream. Tell him to defy Mystra, to think, to not accept this outrageous thing he’s been asked to do. To spurn Mystra’s words and stay here, with her, in this… whatever they were building.

She’d become far too attached to him already. But everyday at his side just added to the growing list of things she adored about him. The one bright spot in a bleak road ahead.

Walking to the front of Gale’s tent, Tav freezes as she contemplates calling out to him. Whether she should try to talk tonight, or leave it for later after he’s had more time to think. Or just let him stick to his own resolve entirely…

Her thoughts are cut short at the sound of a broken sob on the other side of the fabric.

Without a thought, she slips into the tent and throws her arms around his midsection from behind. His body tenses in surprise, but it does little to interrupt the next sob from his lips.

She squeezes him tighter as his body shakes, using one hand on his front to rub slow circles on his stomach as she rests her head on his back.

“Y-you don’t h-have-“ Gale begins before slapping a hand over his mouth trying to stifle the next sob, sucking air in desperately around it.

“Gale, I’ve got you. It’s ok to let it out. I’m staying right here, I promise.”

She feels him nod more than sees it. She sways them slightly as he shakes, taking a moment to spin herself around his body and hold him more tightly from the front.

His arms quickly wrap around her, his face pressing to her hair.

Her fingers rub gently into his back as she softly starts to hum a melody, his tears running down onto her as he tries to mumble an apology.

She holds him for what felt like hours, lost in their own moment. His shaking lessens, and the sobs dwindled to small hiccups over time.

Turning her head to glance around the room, she spots his bedroll a few steps away.

“Let’s lay down,” she says softly, backing them toward the bedroll and carefully tugging him along with her.

She drops down to her knees when she reaches it, grabbing his hands to tug him down to the bedding with her. Adjusting his pillows around and finding a blanket, she lies on her back and holds her arms out to him.

He studies her for a moment before laying down and snuggling into her, his head resting on her shoulder as she pulls the blanket up around them.

Her fingers slowly card through his hair as he buries his face against her neck, a shuddered breath leaving his lips as his hand grips at her shirt fabric on her stomach.

She resumes her humming after they settled in, his face turning from her neck to glance up at her.

“What are you humming?” He asks quietly, his voice raspy and unsure.

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said don't leave me here alone,” she sings softly to the melody she’d been humming.

“Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone.

“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound,” she finishes singing, rubbing a hand along his arm.

“My mother would sing it to me at night when I was upset,” she finally answers. “When times are hard now I hum it to myself. Quite often lately if I’m to be honest.”

“It’s beautiful,” he responds, his eyes reddened and puffy, but looking at her with adoration. “You’re beautiful. And I’m undeserving of your company.”

“Oh hush,” she says and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re deserving of far more than you believe. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to have people care about you, and you deserve to live.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” he whispers after a moment.

“Good, hold onto that,” she says squeezing him closer to her. “I will find another way. We will. There’s always another way. I’m not going to give up on you. You’re enough as you are Gale.”

His face presses back up against the juncture between her shoulder and neck, a shaky exhale on her neck, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear as she feels him smile against her skin.

“Would you stay here with me tonight? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” he asks quickly, keeping his face hidden from her.

“Of course, I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite wizard,” her fingers go back to playing with his hair.

“If you only know one wizard, I’m both your favorite and least favorite,” he jokes with a dry chuckle.

“I’ve met a few, but you make a good point. I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite person,” she amends.

His hand drifts from her stomach to her side, holding her closer to him, “If you continue this I might believe you and you’ll be stuck with me, then you’ll be sorry for throwing those words around.”

“Is that a promise?” She grins and lays her head against his.

“Promise?”

“If I keep saying you’re my favorite and that I care about you, I’ll be stuck with you? Because I can easily keep repeating the truth each day.”

“I-I don’t know what… I mean, I still have that order and I might, but maybe,” he stumbles over his words, his brow scrunching in thought.

“You don’t have to think about it right now,” her hand lightly grips his chin to turn his head so she can see his face and presses her finger between his brows. “No decisions, sacrifices, or answers are needed right now.”

He blinks rapidly in response, tears building in the corners of his eyes again as he searches her face then nods, lolling his head back against her shoulder.

Tav lets her fingers drift down his cheek, then follows along his jaw slowly, enjoying the prickle of his beard on her skin.

He stretches some in her embrace, leaning into her touch, his eyelids drooping.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake,” she promises as she feels sleep starting to come to her as well.

“A wondrous sight to awake to I’m sure,” he smile softly, his eyes drifting shut.

Tav continues to stroke along his cheek and jaw until his breathing evens and his nose twitches in his sleep when her hand accidentally brushes against it.

Holding back her chuckle, she wraps her arm back around Gale and snuggles her face against his hair, letting her own eyes drift shut.

She sends out a quick prayer, to any god that may listen, that she find a way to get them all through this. Her new little odd family would all make it through this intact, or she herself would die trying. His goddess may have given up on him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to.

--------

My Main Account: @lykaonimagines AO3 User: Lykao (Marvel, Sherlock, Cyberpunk 2077, and other video game fics)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate #fanfic

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

Will hums, flicking his focus away from his work for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“If you’re sure. Tell me if you need a break.”

Nico says nothing. When the prick of the suture needle drags through his inflamed, torn skin, pain pushing through the numbing cream, he grits his teeth and stays still. Will notices anyway.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, brushing a gentle finger along his cheek. “Three stitches left, and then we’re done, promise.” He frowns. “It’s gonna scar, though.”

Nico huffs bitterly, careful not to move his face too much, careful to keep his eyes blank and trained forward.

“Whatever. Can’t make me look worse than I already do.”

He bites his tongue, furious with himself. He doesn’t care about a stupid scar. He has more of them than he can count. He doesn’t even count them anymore, doesn’t even bother. Werewolf scratches? Whatever. Monster in the woods leaves a gash on his leg? A little bit of nectar and a bandage, he’s out of the infirmary in an hour, the bandage staying on for even less time. Spattering burns from the lava wall? Not even worth a hummed note from a busy Kayla. He’s a patchwork, and he doesn’t have the time nor freedom to give a shit. This is his life, this is all demigods’ lives.

…He’s never scarred his face before, though.

The hellhound had caught him off guard. He’d been — distracted, stupidly, walking through the wood with his head in the clouds. It had snuck up on him, scratched him from temple to cheek before he could blink. He’s damn lucky he didn’t lose his eye.

The snip of the medical scissors startles him, eyes flicking to Will’s face on reflex. There’s a wrinkle in the space between his eyebrows, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth. Nico can smell the pungent salve, eucalyptus and lavender and something else he doesn’t recognise. It tickles pleasantly as Will spreads it gently over his red, torn, inflamed skin. He presses a cotton pad to Nico’s eye in silence, guiding his hand to hold it while he wraps it around Nico’s head.

The medic makes a little humming noise as he pulls away, tilting Nico’s head left to right as he inspects his work. Clearly satisfied, he nods, then busies himself with removing his gloves and organizing his suture set. Nico slides off the bed and walks over to the little square mirror on the infirmary wall, next to the nurse’s station. He looks quickly around, checking that the infirmary is empty — except for Will, it is — and then squares himself in front of it, examining himself critically.

It could be worse.

The first thing he notices is how stark the sterile bandage is against his skin. He’s tanned in his time at Camp Half-Blood, obviously, endless sun and walks around camp deepening his skin back to its original shade. His hair has grown out, wavy and fine and framing his face. Freckles dot his nose. His eyes — his eye — is dark, dark, dark brown, iris barely distinguishable from pupil. His cheeks are no longer sunken (were his cheekbones always this high?) and his ears stick out a little.

He looks, to his bewilderment, like Bianca. Without the bandage on his face, and if he grew his hair out a little more, they could be — twins.

“It’s never a good thing to worry what others think,” Will muses, voice floating in the empty air. Nico startles, whirling around to face him. He slides the last sterilized instrument — tiny surgical scissors — into its case, then turns to face Nico, smile soft and eyes like clear sky. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve been crushing on you forever, and I don’t think you’re any less gorgeous. With or without the scar.”

For the split second after Will speaks, Nico’s ears ring like T.V. static. Crush. Forever. Gorgeous.

The rage bubbles up in him so quickly it burns, red-hot, sharp and painful. He recognises half of it as hurt. Another chunk as — confusion, bewilderment, childish fear.

The look on Will’s face strikes him silent before he can open his mouth to seethe.

Nico knows how to read people. He has to. He’d learnt it quickly and he’d learnt it young, because he’d be dead if he didn’t. He knows the averted eyes of insincerity, the bitten-red lips of a liar, the twisting fingers linked with a con-man’s smile.

Will carries none of them.

Apollo’s golden child, he squirms when he lies. Diverts attention when Austin asks him the last time he slept, smiles a guilty smile and changes the subject when the last pack of Twizzlers goes mysteriously missing from the Hermes’ cabin secret stash. His dishonesty is easy to read.

His smile is wide, if a little lopsided, and his too-wide eyes don’t leave Nico’s face. His hands, for once, are still.

Nico swallows.

“Stitches will be out in a week,” Will says, seemingly oblivious to Nico’s gawking. “Bandages changed twice a day. And, Nico, for Olympus’ sake —” his stare turns stern — “do not be a stranger. I’d appreciate your company. Obviously.”

He leaves Nico staring as he damn near sashays out of the Big House, humming to himself.

What in Hades.

———

part two

#wanted to finish this in one go but didn’t manage. oh well #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #will/nico #nico/will #solangelo #pining will solace #idk what else to tag truly #fic #my writing #longpost

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maiko-san · 21 days

Text

The Chain + TP! Reader (2/?)

< Part 1

Plot : You are Twilight's childhood best friend, who like Twilight can turn into an animal, that is a crow. You just happen to follow Twilight into the portal in your crow form and meet the Chain.

( Fem Reader )

Note : The Chain can't understand Reader when she's a crow and only Twilight does. All The Chain hears is cawing from you.

Growl~

Your stomach growls from hunger, you have been spying on the group for quite a while now and they have set up a camp near a small river, some of them decide to go for a swim. You take notice that one of them is cooking dinner, Wild was it?

The aroma of the food he's cooking is too much, it smells delicious and it makes you drool.

"Hey, can someone help me fetch some woods?" Wild asked the others, Twilight stands up. "I'll take care of it!" he said with a smile, "Thanks, Twi!" smiles Wild as he resumes cooking.

'This is....great!' you thought. You watch as Twilight goes into the nearby woods to fetch some woods for the fire.

'Okay! All I need is to get closer and let's see if I'm lucky enough to get some' you thought, smiling to yourself, picking up a shell of a deku nut. You fly over to the blonde and land on the ground, he has turned his body away from the pot.

'Here's my chance!' you said. You perch on the sticks that hang the cauldron and take a scoop of the creamy soup. 'It smells so delicious~' you thought, drooling through your break.

"Ah!" you hear someone shouts. You nearly look to your right to see pinky pointing a finger at your direction. 'Shit!' you thought, panicking. "Come here!" he shouts, swiping his hand at you.

You dodge his hand and perch yourself up to the tree, you blow the steam and take a sip of the soup. The flavour bursts into your taste bud causing you to squeal in delight, 'It's so delicious!' you said excitedly.

Pinky, or Legend stare at the crow in disbelief. 'What did I just witness?' he thought. Well, he'd seen a lot of things but this is new. At first, he thought the crow was going to put a deku nut into the soup but it was otherwise. He never see a crow eat from a deku nut shell and treated it like it was a bowl.

Is it someone's pet? He notices that the crow is in a trance, guess it enjoyed Wild's food. Legend notice something glimmering around the crow's neck.

' A necklace?' it was a golden necklace with a green jewel.

"Hey, Legend. Whatcha looking at?" a voice calls out to him, Legend turns to see the Captain walking towards him. "Just watching that crow so it doesn't do anything funny to our food" Legend said, crossing his arms over his chest. Warriors look up to the tree and see the crow, "Is...that a deku nut shell?" he pointed out at the crow holding a deku nut shell with its talon.

"Yeah, the bird scooped up the soup and ate it" he said. Wild returns and notices the two looking at the tree, he follows their gaze and sees a crow. "Oh, it's the same crow that has been following us" Wild said.

The other two turn their heads to Wild, "Huh?". Wild smiles, "I saw it a couple of times, it has been following us for quite a while" he said. "What?! Why didn't you tell us?" Legend shrieked, "It's just a harmless crow—" Wild gets cut off by Legend. "What if that thing is Shadow's spy?!" he points out to the crow that opens its eyes, revealing a pair of (e/c) eyes.

Wild stays silent for a moment, Legend does have a point. It could be Shadow's spy but he doesn't think so. "Well maybe or it just hungry" Wild said as he takes a bowl and a plate. He takes a scoop of the creamy soup and a piece of bread, he sets down the food on a log and look up at the crow.

"You can have some if you want!" he calls out.

You hear the young man call out for you, he has set down food for you to eat. 'Is it.... for me?' you gasped. Your eyes sparkle at the sight of the soup and bread, you fly down to the log and eat happily.

"See, it's just hungry, Vet" Wild smiles, he takes a closer look and notices that the crow has a drawstring backpack on it's back and a necklace, "Is it a pet?". Warrior takes a closer look, "Looks like it but what kind of a person that tied a bag on a bird?" he questioned.

"A messenger bird perhaps?" he hums, cupping his chin, "What's going on here?". Time comes along with the others, that had dried themselves off after playing in the river. Time's eyes land on the bird, "A crow?" he raised an eyebrow.

You finally notice that you have eyes on you, you lift your head slightly and see the men have their eyes set on you. A bead of sweat runs down your cheek, 'This is bad' you thought. You're not very comfortable when meeting strangers but these people are so different. They look like Link but they are not him but they almost have the same scent, especially the one don in armour. He almost smells like Link, your Link.

The same smell of the forest and soil.

Time's eye and your collides, the hero of Time feels something familiar about this crow especially with those gem-like (e/c) eyes. He had seen those eyes before but where? His memories were blurry and he couldn't put a finger on it.

"It might be someone's pet, it has a necklace" Wild speaks up, pulling Time out of his trance, "It carries a bag with it too!" points out Wind with a huge smile on his face. "It looks enchanted" Four said as he leans in for a closer look.

You take a few steps back, feeling slightly uncomfortable when the blonde leans in. "O-oh, sorry" Four apologies. "Should we find its owner?" Wild questioned, Legend let out a sigh, "It's a bird, Wild. It can fly its way back home" he said.

"I'm back with the woods— (Y/n)?!" a familiar voice enters your ears. There stood Twilight with his mouth open and had a shock expression.

Your feathers ruffles up, 'Fuck, I stayed too long?!' you thought.

[ End of Part ]

#linked universe x reader #twilight x reader #lu x reader #lu twilight x reader #linked universe four #linked universe time #linked universe hyrule #linked universe #linked universe legend #linked universe sky #linked universe wind #linked universe twilight #linked universe wild #reader insert #various x reader

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

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Rick Grimes x reader - starting with trust, ending with us

Part 1:

You had no intention of staying in one spot for too long, in a world like this one that wasn’t the best idea, it was safer to keep morning.

But the gash in your leg had changed those plans, and you couldn’t travel far on it without falling, so, you stuck to the trees.

You knew there was other nearby, from the traps scattered around, and the fact that when you checked them sometimes they would be empty and set again, sometimes they wouldn’t be, a walker getting to the food before whoever was caring for the traps.

If that was the case you would dispose of the walkers and the spoiled food, and set the traps once again, using them for your own benefit as well.

You didn’t take much from whoever it was, you only took the smaller animals, leaving the bigger ones.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live but it worked for you, and it kept you alive, and that’s what it was doing right now.

Your camp was surrounded by wooden spike in the ground acting as a wall, going out in all directions, your fire burning as you cooked the rabbit you had caught.

Your shelter was just a couple of sheets you had scavenged a while back and tied together just to keep the blistering sun, or rain off you if it rained.

Rolling up the leg to your trousers, you slowly began to unwrap the dirty bandage, getting a look at the infected wound and you sighed.

Grabbing the pot over your fire, you stretched your leg out, poured the water over it.

You didn’t know if it would help, but at least it would kill any bacteria that was trying to call your wound it’s home.

Your skin was an angry red, and you grabbed your water bottle, pouring the cold water over it to make it a little better.

Rolling your trouser leg back down, you tucked it back into your boot, and you leant against the tree behind you.

You heard noises nearby, and you hauled yourself up, grabbing the pole that you were using as a walking stick and a weapon, making your way to the edge of your camp.

You could see a man fighting a small group of walkers not far from you, and you shuffled between a few of the spikes.

Standing on the outside, you slowly made your way over, mindful not to make any noise at all.

You crept closer, and you stood behind a tree, watching from behind it, trying to figure out if he could handle them and what he was doing so close to your camp.

You watched as he was knocked over, hand on the head of a walked as he tried to grab his weapon.

You made your move, limping over you shoved the pole through the creatures skull, and pulled it out, placing your foot over the handle of his knife.

He pushed the body off, and turned his head towards you.

“You’re the one who’s been taking our food.” He said.

You said nothing, you stabbed the pole into the ground and leant down, picking up the knife and he stood up.

You studied him for a moment, getting a quick read of him and you turned the knife around, holding the blade as you held out the handle to him.

He wasn’t going to kill you, that much you could tell.

He took it.

“What’s your name?”

You turned around, slowly limped back to your camp, pushing the spikes back to where they were supposed to be so nothing else could get in.

The man followed you, and you stood watching him.

“Why did you save me?”

You said nothing, and he sighed, looking around a little unsure.

“May I?”

He gestured to your wall, and you pushed some aside to let him in before closing it again.

He didn’t show signs of leaving soon, and you couldn’t have him attracting walkers to your base, or getting killed in front of it.

You pointed to him, then a spot in front of the fire before walking around to sit on the other side of the camp away from him.

He sat where you pointed, shuffling a little to the side to get a better view of you.

Clad in camouflage trousers, black combat boots, a black shirt and leather jacket with a glove on your right hand, a bandanna around your neck, dried blood on your face.

You had clearly been out here a while.

“Thank you for helping me, and for resetting the traps. Do you have a name? I’m Rick.”

You said nothing.

“How long have you been out here for?”

Again, nothing.

“We know you’re injured, one of my friends saw you limping a week ago, you’re still limping now, have you been bitten?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Can I take a look?”

Rick went to move, only stopping when you picked up the metal pole, aiming to through it right through his head and he stopped, slowly sitting down.

“Okay, okay. I won’t come any closer if you don’t want me to. But I have a safe space, not far away, food, shelter, medicine, someone who can look at your leg for you. I just have three questions.”

With how one sided the conversation had been Rick wasn’t actually expecting you to give him any response, but he still wanted to try.

You had saved his life, that didn’t mean he trusted you, but he still wanted to repay that favour to you, but he had to protect his family first.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

You stared at him.

“How many people have you killed?”

No response.

“Why?”

You just stared at him blankly, not interested in the questions he was asking you, or giving him any answers to them.

Rick sighed, looking at the sky before looking back at you.

“At least come so we can help with your leg, you’re not going to survive much longer out here alone with it like that. There’s more and more coming here every day.”

You knew he was right, because you had noticed the increase in activity. If a horde were to come through your base wouldn’t last, it would fall.

You had made it with the idea of keeping the stragglers away, not a whole army of them.

With your leg the way it was you wouldn’t exactly be running away anywhere soon either, you’d be a sitting duck. You were a sitting duck.

But in your condition you couldn’t fight a large group of humans either, you didn’t know how many he had, or if this was a trap, so, you shook your head.

“Are you sure?”

You slowly nodded.

“Okay.”

Rick pushed himself up and backed away, making his way to your fence and you get up, limping over to move it while keeping your weapon aimed at him.

You took a few steps back and watched him leave before closing it again.

Rick glanced at you again before he left.

You thought that would be the last you saw of him, but the following day he came back with a bag, and he held it over your face, dropping it between a few of the spikes carefully.

“Just a few things, mostly for your leg, some instructions on what to do.”

You got up, making your way over you used the pole to pick it up, backing away as you brought it over.

Sitting down, you dumped the contents on the floor, searching it all throughly.

You noticed the bandages open, so you tossed them back over the spikes, along with some wrapped up food.

Rick picked them up, holding them in one hand.

“You don’t want them?”

He looked at them a little confused before it hit him after a moment.

It was because they weren’t sealed, because they were open or homemade, you didn’t trust him so of course you wouldn’t take that sort of stuff.

He set them by his feet and looked at you, and you held up a notepad.

“Well, I figured since you don’t seem comfortable maybe you could write instead, there’s a pen too.”

You looked for the pen and picked it up, flicking to the first page you scribbled a few things down, tore it out and tossed it at him.

It hit his head and fell to the floor so he picked it up, unballing it to read what you wrote.

“I uh… I don’t understand the language.”

You held out your hand and he threw it back, and you wrote again before tossing it back over.

‘Why?’

Rick glanced at you.

“Why did it bring this?”

You nodded.

“Because you need help, you won’t come to us for help, so I’ll bring the help to you. You don’t trust me, I get that, honestly I wouldn’t trust me either if I was in your shoes, but you do need some of these things.”

You blankly stared at him.

“The world is a shit storm now, I know what it’s like to be on your own in this, and it’s hard. You don’t have to come with me, I won’t make you, but the offer is there.”

You turned your attention to putting things away in the bag.

Rick sighed, picking up the things you had thrown and he left again.

When he was gone you quickly tended to your leg, using what was given to you, and you put the rest in your bag.

He kept coming back, every day for a short while to try talk you into going with him to safety, for help, and to bring you something.

He was determined, and even after a week he hadn’t given up on trying to help you out.

Looking at his empty bag, you got up, swinging it over your shoulder, grabbing your gun for your other shoulder and your metal pole, leaving your camp.

You made your way to the prison first, hiding in the grass as you looked through the scope of your gun.

They had made it into a home, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting a working farm, or children, or so many adults.

They had plenty of guards, and you scanned over the people you could see, and you saw Rick, holding a baby in his arm.

That would explain the questions he had asked you, he needed to make sure you were good, his family would be safe around you.

Putting your gun on your back, you crept back towards your camp and past it.

You knew there was a store nearby, one hidden away by a car pile up, you had been using it for your canned foods, trying to make it last as long as possible.

Making your way there, you pried the door open and walked in, swiping things from the shelves into his bag before going back.

Limping past your camp, you carried on through the forest for maybe half an hour until you found the prison again and you knelt down in the tall grass.

Setting the bag down, you grabbed your gun, looking through the scope.

You counted the people you saw, and determined the best course of action.

You had to wait until the coast was clear, so you sat there waiting, hours slipping by, not making a sound.

Then you saw your break, it must have been the changing of the lookouts, because as a man and a woman started leave one tower, the rest seemed to be heading inside.

Getting up, you made your to their gate as quickly as you could, climbing up on the fence next to it, you carefully placed the bag hanging on a bit of the higher broken fence before climbing down.

Giving the fence a little shake to see if it would stay, you left as quickly as you had come, heading back to your own camp for the night.

It was Rick that found the bag the following morning, and with a bit of struggling he managed to get it down from where you had put it.

Backing away from the fence he opened it carefully, finding it full of tinned food and two tubs of baby food, some clothes, and some toys.

He looked around, but going by how cold the bag was it had definitely been out there all night, but he knew it was you, because he left this bag with you.

You had clearly taken the time to put everything in so it would all fit.

He smiled a little, and he closed it, swinging it over his shoulder to take it inside after his rounds.

He didn’t know you were sat in the grass watching through the scope of your sniper to make sure one of them had gotten it.

When you saw him take it you had left, going back to your own camp, killing a few walkers along the way.

It wasn’t safe there anymore, and you had to find somewhere new to go

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x y/n #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #Rick grimes

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allbark-no-bite · 1 year

Text

past the texas line.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.4k)

summary: the past comes back to haunt him when Jake gets word that your ex boyfriend is back in town. he makes a trip back home to ensure it stays buried.

warnings: mentions of death and blood, swearing

author’s note: this is a little different than what I usually write, but I was feeling inspired by Zach Bryan’s “Crooked Teeth”. definitely recommend giving it a listen before reading!

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He doesn't remember it being so hot.

Jake wipes his perspiring hand off on the back of his jeans after handing a crumbled wad of bills over to the cashier. Sweat rolls down his neck and causes his cotton shirt to stick to his back as he waits for her to unstick them from each other. Her expression says she's got better things to do than count out his damp dollar bills. He wants to tell her that it's more than enough and she can keep the change, that he pocketed just enough cash for two fill-ups and a motel stay to make the drive.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his eyes when he makes it out of the store, boots treading heavy in the dust. The bell chimes out after him, as though chastising him for leaving in such a hurry. Jake doesn't glance back, afraid that if he does, door of the beat up patrol car parked permanently out front will open and the sheriff will stare at him through his dark sunglasses and say, "Don't I know you, son?"

"Where you headed, son?"

Normally in this kind of situation, Jake would lay on the proper southern manners his mama taught him, answer him with a "Yes sir, I grew up a few mile form here" and then, "No sir, I ain't been drinkin'," and then shake his hand and leave him with a "Thank you, sir. Have a good night." But not tonight.

Jake turns his head away, green eyes squinting as though to avoid the beam of the flashlight—he purposely dips his head down so that the shadow of his hat conceals most of his face. No one comes this far out of town without a reason. By openly showing his face around here, Jake might as well hand him a wanted poster with his name on it.

The tarp in his truck bed flaps persistently in the wind. Jake inconspicuously eyes it through his dusty side view mirror. He can make out nothing but blackness underneath it.

"Camping out by the river for a night."

The sheriff's face remains stoic. He's still shining the flashlight into the truck. "The river?" he asks, sounding suspect about the answer. "Come an awful long away out of town to camp, huh son?"

"Used to go up there with my old man," Jake supplies. It's a another lie. He's only come this way once before and only ever seen the river in passing. He doesn't have to have been to know why people go through the trouble of making the trip out there—why there's nothing alive out there for miles.

Its current is strong enough to drown a man and deep enough to swallow a herd of crossing cattle under its muddy surface, never to be seen again. No one's going to bother to check for a body, not when there's an all too likely possibility of finding more than one.

The deputy sizes up Jake for another moment before seemingly deciding there's not much else he can do to harass him. The kid's license had checked out, there was nothing outstanding on his record, not even a damn speeding ticket—he wasn't surprised to find that he was enlisted in the service, his type usually was.

"Well son," he begins patronizingly. Jake fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's getting the sense that this guy is hankering for a reason to write him a citation. "I don't wanna see you back around here. Understand?"

"Yessir." This time he means it. He has no intention to come back.

Body rigid, hair standing up on the back of his neck, Jake slams the door shut on his pickup and jams the key in, twisting hard as the engine roars to life. He doesn't look back until just before the cruiser fades into the dust in his rear view mirror.

It takes him two days to get down past the Texas line. Jake knows the state like the back of his hand, it's home after all, but crossing back into no man's land causes something dark to settle into his bones. He had buried this place and it's memory a long time ago.

Of course, Jake is smarter than to think that burying something will make it cease to exist. Literally, yes, but figuratively, no. It's only a temporary fix to a problem—a problem that was now coming back to haunt him.

"Buxton's back in town."

The statement had sent him in a cold sweat from across the bar.

He pauses mid conversation, lowering his second beer of the night from his lips. The music is loud and the patrons of the Hard Deck louder, but the men aren't exactly speaking quietly either.

"You sure it was him? Thought he got into some trouble and skipped town?"

"Got into some trouble alright. Can't hardly tell what part of him to look at, he's so fucked up. Looks like someone finally laid into him."

Jake's breathing halts, and although it goes unnoticed by the people around him, his body stills.

"You think so?"

"Dunno, he won't say."

He's straining to hear the exchange between to two men, so lost in the conversation that he doesn't notice you looking at him in concern. "Jake?" Your hand ghosts up his knee to squeeze his muscular thigh.

The sight of your face, delicate brows furrowed in worry, eyes searching—always searching—reminds him to breathe. "Hmm?" he hums, rough hands tugging you into his lap to cover up his pervious distraction. You see right through him—you always do.

"You're distracted," you point out, but the resolve has left your voice now that he's holding you close, lips pressed to your temple. Jake's large hands smooth over your waist, holding you securely to his lap so that he can nuzzle into your neck.

"Distracted by you," he replies while closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath of your scent—safe is the best way he can describe it, home if you asked him to be more specific.

"Jake Michael," you warn, but make no move to stop him. Maybe if your friends had been watching you would have, but they've moved across the bar to watch Phoenix school Rooster at the pool table.

Jake just smiles warmly, relived that you have let the previous conversation drop. He's already planning a way to slip off to Texas for a few days, but for now, he sits back and indulges in the remainder of the evening knowing that you're safe in his arms.

It's strange seeing the land in the daylight. Jake remembers the way all the same. He does suppose that not much change happens to a desert in ten years.

He's been staring at the barren desert horizon through his windshield for close to two hours, watching the heat waves melt off the hood of his truck. He'd seen a mangey looking coyote trot across the road a few miles back, but for the most part there was nothing alive for miles.

Jake pulls off of the desolate road and slows his truck to a stop half a mile from the river. On the off chance that someone finds it, they'll assume it's broke down and pass it by. Stepping out of his truck, he fixes his hat on his head and starts walking.

Every step feels like deja vu.

The heat is almost unbearable, even in the evening. He had hoped by the time he made it this far, the sun would be low enough in the sky for the coolness of night to begin setting in.

San Diego was a culture shock when he was first stationed. He had been terribly homesick and had every intention to move back home eventually. That was until he met you. You and your love for the coast, and an even stronger love for your friends. The Dagger Squad was like family, and Jake came to appreciate your unwillingness to move away from them.

Jake knew he was going to marry you when he met you that first night at Hard Deck, but you didn't always see things that way. It wasn't that you didn't like Jake, really it was the exact opposite. The two of you were attached at the hip—thick as thieves—which is why you never even considered that Jake was interested in something far more than just being friends.

Jake hated your boyfriend. He hated him from the moment he met him, all thick mustache and slick, no-good, easy grin. The devil dressed in a polo and khakis. And he was right to hate him. Jake can count on two fingers the number of times he's seen you cry; both are because of your boyfriend.

The first time he calls you a bitch. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have even blinked at the name. Maybe you would have even laughed in his face. The insult in and of itself means nothing to you. After fighting your way into the Top Gun program, you practically brandished the name with brusque pride. This was more than just an insult.

Jake didn't catch the whole exchange, and you refused to tell him what had happened to lead up to the situation, but he knows that you hadn't wanted him to witness it in the first place.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Your head jerks towards the sound of Jake's voice, and you abruptly step forward as to shoulder past your boyfriend, who shifts reluctantly to let you away from the wall. Your eyes are red, and while he can tell that you're trying not to let it show, your voice is shaking.

"Nothing," you say all too quickly, hardly meeting his eye as you step around both of them. Your boyfriend stands there silently, watching the exchange with a self satisfied look on his smug face, as if daring you to say anything to Jake.

Jake ignores him and instead focuses his attention on you. "Hey—[y/n]," he tries, reaching out to stop you, but you dodge his outstretched hand.

"Let it go, Jake," you order, fixing him with a look that means business; you've always been too good at taking care of yourself. And then you walk off to join the rest of your friends at the bar, rubbing away the wounded look away from your eyes as you go.

The second time is after you've broken up with him. It's actually months after you've broken up with him. You had finally come to your senses after realizing that it was causing a rift between you and your friends.

He grabbed you one night at Hard Deck, wrapped his hand around your bicep hard enough to bruise and whispered something filthy into you ear. Jake knew because of the way your eyes darkened with disgust and your lip curled. He had to fight the urge to spring to your rescue—you were a big girl and could take care of yourself. To your credit, you stood your ground, kept it together until he released you and you could turn away, tears burning in the back of your eyes.

There is no third time.

Jake's standing up from the bar before he even knows what he's doing. Doesn't really know what his intentions are as he follows your boyfriend out of the door—ex boyfriend. But his head is clear as his boots carry him out to the parking lot, crunching the gravel underfoot as he passes his pickup parked out front.

The image of your face, red and splotchy with tears flashes through his mind. He grabs a metal fencepost out of the truck bed. The parking lot is silent besides the heavy crunch on his boots on the gravel and the blood roaring in his ears.

He finds the bastard leaning drunkenly against the side of his truck, the glass of a smashed beer bottle at his feet and another in his hand. He's too buzzed to hear Jake heading towards him. Without stopping to consider his options, Jake lifts the metal rod and swings like he's up to bat and the bases are loaded.

A crack echos through the parking lot.

The fence post catches him in the jaw and sends him sprawling to the floor.

Jake doesn't remember much after that, just that there was a lot of blood—on his clothes, in the parking lot, in his truck. The rest of the night was a frantic blur of adrenaline spurred moment.

A gathered flock of buzzards caw at him with an surprising amount of gall as he approaches the river bank, flapping their black wings powerfully. They scatter only out of irritation before making a brave advance back towards their original post.

Jake takes a wide berth around them. The deeper you get into Texas, the scarier the wildlife becomes. He would rather not know what they're feeding on. He has a feeling they might start eyeing him next if he disturbs them again.

The spot he is looking for is a couple yards past. Thistles are growing up around the fence post. If he hadn't marked the spot, he probably would have walked right past it. It had been pitch black the last time, but as he stands looking over the area, it starts to come back all too clearly to him.

He remembers the sweat rolling down his body despite the chill of the night, the ache in his shoulders from digging—with no moisture to soften the ground, it was like chipping away at concrete. He doesn't remember being scared, not like when his engines failed and his parachute didn't open, just angry and fueled by adrenaline.

Jake looks over his shoulder, back at the road where his truck is parked, then back to the river. The fence post stands there, overgrown by thistles and time.

He's still not scared.

"You're back," comes the barley audible mumble as Jake crawls into bed, curling his body around yours. The bedsheets are cool and your barley clothed body is radiating warmth. After you both resettle, legs intertwined, Jake’s nose tucked into the crevice of your neck, you lapse into comfortable silence. For a moment, Jake thinks you’ve already fallen back asleep.

“Where’d you go?” comes your quite voice.

His sigh is heavy. You don’t press him.

Staring into the darkness of the bedroom, Jake considers lying to you. Isn’t that what he’s been doing all this time? He’s sure you have your assumptions. You’re too smart not to. He pulls you closer into his body, his large hand coming to rest on your heart.

“Texas.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #top gun imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #top gun maverick hangman

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mothandpidgeon · 1 month

Text

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 3

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ MDNI)

wc: 3.2k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, riding a horse together, one mention of pee, hand touching, strip tease I guess, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, moth never uses y/n

authors note: Been holding onto this chapter since I haven't finished the next one but I really want to share this with you! Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and helping me untangle this mess and being the wind beneath my wings.

There are six links in the chain that separate you from Joel Miller. You count them over and over again. As you lay awake by the dying campfire. When he rattles them just after dawn to rouse you from the sleep you’d finally fallen into. While you drink the rancid coffee he boils over the fire.

You imagine them leaving an imprint on Joel’s tanned neck. Red, purple, bruising his skin as you use it to choke him to death.

You spend the morning following him to and fro as he and Ellie pack up camp.

“You know how to whistle?” Ellie asks you.

She’s been sticking her forefinger and thumb between her lips trying to get a sound out of them.

“Afraid not,” you tell her.

“You’re with me,” Joel says. He stands beside his horse, hand on his hip.

“I have to wear this damn bracelet the whole way?” you ask.

He nods.

“Do you think I’m crazy enough I’d jump off a horse?” you ask.

His eyes rake up and down your body and you try to ignore the heat that flashes across your skin. “Yep.”

Once he’s in the saddle, he hauls you up behind him. Not like you have much choice.

“You go for my gun and—“

“I know, I know,” you tell him.

You have ample opportunity to study the outlaw, at least the back side of him, as you ride behind him. He’s broad and sits tall in the saddle like he was born for it. You watch his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt, tempted to smooth your palms over them. With your wrists connected, you’ve got to keep your hands at his middle. His narrow hips roll with the movements of the animal beneath him, and you grip onto his shirt imagining how powerful it would feel to take him from behind.

He barely acknowledges you. There are a couple of times when you rest your cheek against his back just because you know it’ll annoy him. It works. He looks over his shoulder at you and you can hear the grumble vibrate through his body.

The three of you ride all day, stopping only twice to stretch your legs. Both times, Joel helps you down with his hands on your waist. You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do but his hands are big and his eyes dart away from yours. He stops touching you as quick as he can, as if you’re a hot kettle that might burn his fingers.

Your amusement is short lived as you have to suffer the indignity of squatting behind a bush with your arm outstretched towards fucking Joel Miller while you take a piss.

It’s dusk when you reach your destination— an old two-story roadhouse with a sign that reads The Dusty Boot. There’s nothing else around but a barn, an outhouse, and open country. Seems like an ideal place to keep a hideout.

Joel hands you down from the saddle again but before you head inside, he rounds on you.

“Now listen here, missy,” he says. “When we go in there, you keep that trap shut. No talking about bounties or the like. Not a peep out of you. Understand?” Joel asks you.

You twist your pinched fingers in front of your lips as if you’re locking your mouth the same as your wrist is locked in that cuff. It’s a command you have absolutely no intention of following.

By the frown on his face, it seems he knows that.

“And you let me do the talking,” he tells Ellie.

“Maria’s got a stick up her ass,” she laughs.

“Ellie,” Joel scolds.

“You said it yourself!” she says.

Joel sighs and trudges forward, dragging you along with him.

The inside of the Boot is cozy and rustic. There’s a large parlor with a number of tables, the paneled walls are decorated with antlers and horse shoes. After a full day bouncing on horseback, you’d love to sit your ass down in one of the winged back chairs in front of the fireplace. Most importantly for your new companions, the place is empty. If there are other guests, they’re up in their rooms.

At one end of the room, a man in an apron with a rag thrown over his shoulder stands behind a modest bar.

“Hey, brother!” he calls, a smile lighting his face.

You can see a resemblance between the two men– the same dark eyes and tan complexion, though Joel’s has been kissed by the sun.

“Tommy?” you whisper to Ellie.

She nods.

Tommy’s as slim as Joel is broad and he looks a bit younger. If Joel ever bothered to smile maybe he’d lose a few years off his face, too.

“Been a while, stranger,” he says. “How’s it going, kid? Still giving him hell?”

“We need a place to lay low for a bit,” Joel says, cutting the pleasantries.

You’re not sure if Tommy’s disappointed that this isn’t a social call but he nods and says, “Yeah, alright. You gonna introduce me to your lady friend?”

Joel bristles at the suggestion that you might be anything other than his prisoner. You give a smile and lift your fingers to your brow as if to tip your hat. As you do, the chain rattles obnoxiously and Joel glares at you.

“What the hell, Joel!” Tommy’s jovial expression has transformed to a look of horror.

“She’s got a bounty on her. I’m taking her to Jackson,” Joel explains.

“Maria ain’t gonna be happy about that,” Tommy says.

“Isn’t going be happy about what?”

A lean woman has appeared at the top of the stairs. She stands tall, shoulders back with a cool air. Her simple, grey dress is neat and spotless just like, you note, the room around you.

Joel quickly takes his hat off. He nudges Ellie to do the same. He’s tense and you can’t tell if he resents this woman or he’s afraid of her. Maybe a little of both.

You like her.

She sighs heavily as she descends the steps.

“Tommy, please tell me I’m seeing things because it looks to me like your brother has a woman shackled to himself in my parlor,” she says.

“You ain’t,” Tommy replies. He sounds just as exasperated.

Maria sizes you up with a look that’s half pity, half disdain. She’s a beautiful woman. Deep brown skin and sharp, appraising eyes. You can only imagine what she thinks of you. A night sleeping in the dirt can’t have done you any favors and certainly neither did a day bouncing around on horseback.

“How’d she get that bruise, Joel?” Maria asks.

You stroke the spot on your face gently as though it really hurts. In truth, you’ve pretty much forgotten that it’s there.

“She came by it on her own,” Joel says.

“That true, darlin’?” Tommy asks you, his voice full of concern.

Joel’s face contorts in what you can only describe as disgust that his brother would think him capable of such a thing.

You give a noncommittal shrug.

“That’s courtesy of the Pinkerton man she was with before we picked her up. Joel gave him what for,” Ellie explains.

Tommy nods.

“We’re just wanting a couple nights to keep our heads down. Ain’t nothing we ain’t asked for before,” Joel says.

“That’s fine. If you unlock her,” Maria says.

“She’s a murderer. You want me to let her loose around your nice customers?” Joel asks.

“I’ve already got three criminals in here. What’s one more?” she says.

“Come on, Joel. Let her be,” Tommy says. “She ain’t gonna give you the slip. Are you, darlin’?”

“Well, if given the opportunity—“ you admit.

“Joel, take that damn cuff off her. And you,” Maria turns on you, “give him your word you won’t try to run while you’re under this roof. Or so help me god I will throw all three of you out.”

“The hell did I do?” Ellie asks.

You’re beginning to understand why you sensed fear on Joel. For a second there, you’re more afraid of enduring her wrath than you are facing the executioner.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say almost involuntarily.

“Shake on it,” Tommy suggests.

You extend your hand to Joel with a saccharine smile. Tommy’s obviously gone soft since he left the gang if he believes somebody like you would be beholden to a handshake promise. It’s sweetly naive.

Joel’s thinking the same thing. You can see it all over his face. He grinds his molars.

“You do what I say when I say it,” he insists.

“Sure thing, boss,” you say.

He shakes your hand.

Joel watches your every move.

He’s been wanting to get Tommy aside to talk but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes off you. You’re unleashed and eager to run and he’s not willing to lose his bounty just because his sister-in-law is so sanctimonious.

“Hey, Tommy. Why did the cowboy go to the doctor?” Ellie asks.

Evening has descended on the Boot. A stage coach pulls in for the night. Its two passengers take their supper at the bar while their driver warms his hands at the hearth. Ellie and Joel sit across from you in the corner, bowls of hot stew on the table. Hers is empty before Joel’s even managed to bring his spoon to his lips.

Joel notices things about you. He wishes he would stop noticing how attractive you are.

Your eyes are sharp and fast. He can tell you’re making note of anything and everything that might help you escape. You massage at your wrist which is now naked with delicate fingers. You lick your lips jealously when Tommy sets a whiskey down in front of his brother.

You don’t have good table manners. The way you stab at potatoes is particularly violent. You probably wish those tines were going into his eyeball.

“How come?” Tommy asks. He wipes his hands with his bar rag, eyes twinkling with delight.

“He was feeling a little hoarse!” Ellie cackles.

Joel shakes his head. The kid is a handful but she’s grown on him. Her puns have not.

He looks up to find you smirking. Not because you find the joke funny. No, you’re laughing at Joel.

He reaches across the table and puts his hand around yours. He shouldn’t touch you again, not since he shook your hand and felt the softness of your skin on his. He spent all day with you practically pressed against his back, getting hints of lavender each time he turned his head in your direction. Such a sweet scent for somebody like you. It’s been a long time since he felt the weight of a woman on him. His body doesn’t know that you’re as dangerous as a mountain lion and slippery as an eel. It just cares that you’re pretty and you’re closer than you ought to be. And it wants more of that.

Your muscles tense around the horn handle of your fork. Joel unwraps your fingers from the utensil, focusing on the task at hand not the feel of you under his fingertips or the wide eyed stare you give him. His heart is beating double time when he replaces your pointed fork with a spoon.

Your shoulders soften when he releases you. You remind yourself to sit up straight.

“Enough jokes,” Joel tells Ellie.

“He ain’t no fun,” Tommy laughs.

You continue to keep your big eyes on Joel as you finish your stew.

“That was good eating Miss Maria,” you say when she clears bowls from the table. “I don’t rightly remember the last time I had a proper meal.”

You’re a fool if you think you’ve got an ally in Maria. Just because she got you unlocked doesn’t mean she thinks you’re anything better than trash. Her daddy was a justice of the peace and she’s never taken kindly to criminals either. It still vexed him that she’d fallen for Tommy but then again she blamed Joel for all of his brother’s failings.

“I know a thing or two about cooking. I’d be happy to lend a hand,” you tell her.

Joel lets out a sharp laugh. Your voice is sweeter than Joel’s heard and you're laying it on thick buttering Maria up.

“What’s funny about that?” you demand.

“You don’t know a thing about cooking but I’m sure you’d like to get a knife in your hand,” Joel says.

“As a matter of fact, I do know how to cook. More than cowboy beans,” you spit.

“I appreciate the offer. It'd be nice to get a hand in the kitchen for once,” Maria says probably just to get a rise out of him.

“That’s too bad. I ain’t letting you out of my sight,” he says.

He stands, stretching out the sore muscles in his lower back.

“Got the front room for ya,” Tommy says. “I’m guessing you’re not looking to sleep in the common room.” He glances towards the other guests.

Joel and Ellie have stayed amongst the strangers in the big room on the second floor when the rest of the private accommodations are taken. With you ready to bolt, though, it’s not an option.

“I want my own room. Take it out of my share,” Ellie tells Joel when he gives her a stern look. “I’m sick of listening to you snore.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Maria says.

Despite her contempt for their criminal lifestyle, Maria dotes on Ellie. Like she’s leaving a saucer of milk out for a feral cat, hoping one day it’ll come inside to lay by the fire. “Tommy’ll set that up for you.”

“I’ll bunk with the kid,” you say.

“Nice try,” Joel says.

“Ain’t this cozy,” you say.

You’ve stepped into the room you’ll be sharing with Joel.

Cozy’s one way of putting it. There’s barely enough space to open the door without hitting the iron framed bed. Beside that is a night stand with a porcelain wash basin, a chair, and a window. There’s about two paces of open floor in either direction. It’s hardly big enough for the both of you.

But that works to Joel’s advantage. He doesn’t want you going far.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, he clamps the handcuff around your wrist once again.

“Come on now,” you whine. “What about our truce?”

“That’s for Maria’s benefit. And she ain’t here,” Joel says.

You’re well beyond arguing and rolling your eyes.

“Well you can’t expect me to sleep in these dirty clothes again. Can you at least give me my arm for a minute so I can get out of ‘em?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes travel over you and he swirls his tongue over his teeth. It’s not a difficult decision for him. If you want to undress and lay in bed in your underthings, he’s not going to stop you. He unlocks the cuff and moseys over to lean against the door. You’re not going to run out of there.

“You going to stand there and watch?” you ask, fingers pausing at the buttons on the top of your bodice.

Joel presses his shoulders against the door, making himself comfortable.

“How do I know you ain’t got a weapon in them petticoats?” he asks.

“If there was, you’d already be dead,” you say.

He lets out a chuckle.

“Suit yourself,” you say.

A cool smile comes over your features. You continue undoing the buttons as you turn towards him so he can see you straight on. Slowly, you reveal what’s underneath– the lines of your corset, a sweet ribbon at the top of your chemise, and an expanse of decolletage. You slide the bodice off of your shoulders and toss it onto the floor, then continue on to your skirts.

“That brother of yours is handsome,” you tell him. One skirt falls away. “Did he leave you for that woman or she come after that?”

Joel doesn’t answer. You don’t seem to care.

“She don’t like you,” you tease.

You square him with defiant eyes, inviting him to look, daring him to stay in control. More flesh is revealed. Your blue corset presses the swell of your breasts above the chemise and you bend forward to give him a little show. Ripe, soft. He salivates.

Joel tries not to enjoy himself too much. He shouldn’t. And not just because this could easily turn into a trap.

“She don’t like you neither,” he says.

You shrug.

He could have you any which way he wanted with just the promise of letting you go. He wouldn’t even have to do it. Just say the word and you’d get on your knees for him. It doesn’t feel right, though, taking advantage of somebody so desperate. So he just watches, trying to keep his features indifferent as each piece of frilly fabric hits the floorboards. He hooks his thumb into his gun belt, hoping that it might obscure the growing strain in his dungarees.

By the time you’re undoing the metal fasteners at the front of your corset, he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood when there’s nothing more separating him from your body than a gauzy chemise and cotton drawers.

You go to the wash basin and splash water on your face and neck. Some droplets fall and make your chemise cling to your damp skin.Y ou moan happily, refreshed. The noise is obviously exaggerated but it still makes Joel ache.

You linger like that for a moment, lazily swaying your bare shoulders. Finally, you step towards Joel, crowding him against the door. The space between the two of you is hot and his breath shallows. He can see the outline of your peaked nipples beneath the flimsy material. The thought passes his mind again, how easy it would be to toss you back onto the mattress and help himself to all of you.

You raise your hand to him and for a moment, he’s forgotten what’s going on here. The sly grin on your lips tells him that you’re well aware of the effect your nearly naked body is having on him. He swallows and slips the cuff around you again. His knuckles graze the inside of your wrist as he locks it. Delicate, warm skin.

Pleased with yourself, you crawl onto the bed. Joel wills his cock to behave as he slips out of his boots and coat. He soaks his bandana in the wash basin and cools the back of his neck. Once he’s in his union suit, he sets his holster down on the floor beside his pillow and swings his legs into the bed. He locks himself to you and tucks the key next to his gun.

“Well ain’t this romantic,” you say from your spot against the wall. “Feels like my wedding night all over again.”

Joel stares at the ceiling. The bed’s a tight fit, his shoulders touch yours when he lays on his back. You’re leaned on your elbow smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He smells that lavender again.

He rolls onto his side, away from your leering. You laugh to yourself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a very long night.

Comments and reblogs always appreciated!

Chapter 4

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#outlaw!Joel Miller #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #ellie williams #tommy miller #maria tlou #tlou

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riordanness · 8 months

Text

my tears ricochet - [p.jackson]

1.3K wordcount

warnings: death, serious angst

requested: no

"Okay, everyone ready?" Percy asked, his sea-green eyes searching the crowd. They locked on me for half a moment, then flitted away.

The campers looked grim, but they all nodded and put on brave faces. This was probably the last battle any of us would ever fight, but we had to try. We were the world's last chance.

Percy grimaced, held up his sword, Riptide, and cried: "For Olympus!"

"For Olympus!" The cheer echoed eerily in the dark tunnel, sounding much louder than us fifty kids should've been able to make.

"Alright," Percy said. "Everyone partner up. No leaving your partner, not for anything. Stick together, stay in sight of other pairs, and keep each other safe."

Everyone immediately started grabbing for their friends, chaos erupting like a bonfire.

Percy moved through the crowd towards me. I managed a smile, but I knew it didn't look genuine.

"Hey," I said, my voice a higher pitch then usual. I shrugged my right shoulder a little. "It's gonna be fine, alright? We've got nothing to worry about."

Percy gazed at the other campers, then back at me. "Yeah... yeah of course."

I reached over and squeezed his hand. "Hey, wanna be my partner?" I smirked a little.

Percy's face melted a little, the smile I loved so much shining through the darkness, just a little. "I guess so."

I scoffed. "You guess so? What, I'm not your best friend anymore?"

He suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug, arms around my waist. "You're so much more than my best friend," he whispered fiercely.

My heart fluttered, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

"Okay," I said after a moment. "Let's do this thing. And after, as long as you stay alive, lunch is on me."

I held out my pinky, and he linked his around mine. "Deal," he said, a playful gleam in his eyes.

Percy turned to the remainder of Camp Half-Blood. "Campers! Let's, uh, go fight this dude!"

I smiled. This was my best friend. My crazy sidekick. My laughter. My smile. My reason to live. My everything.

He glanced at me, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it three times. "I love you," he began.

"No matter what," I finished with a slight smile. Sadly, Percy's feelings for me were purely platonic.

He would never admit it to me, but I could tell he still had feelings for his ex-girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. She'd left him about two years ago, when her father had dragged her off to Australia.

There was nothing either she or Percy could do about it. They couldn't use phones to contact each other, and Camp Half-Blood needed Percy, so they'd made the decision to break up.

I missed Annabeth. She'd been such an amazing leader, and even though I hadn't known her super well, she'd been so nice to me. I hoped that wherever she was now, she wouldn't mind me loving her Percy.

Percy and I stood back to back, like we had for years. I knew his fighting style so well, and he knew mine just as well.

I gripped the string of my bow, aiming carefully, and releasing it. The arrow soared right into the demon's glowing red eye. Why do they always have to have red eyes?

I cursed under my breath in Ancient Greek. "Dammit," I muttered, biting my thumbnail. I needed to get closer. I needed to get rid of the boomerang thing.

"Percy!" I yelled.

"What?" He swung Riptide into the demon's ankle, cutting a bloody slit. The demon roared in pain, swatting the air in front of Percy, who stumbled out of the way.

"Keep it distracted!" I cried. "I - I think I have an idea!"

His eyes locked with mine. "Are you sure?" His voice sounded shaky.

I nodded firmly. "Yes. Don't worry. I'll come back. I always do. Pinky promise."

I ran to him, linking my pinky with his, giving him one last tight hug. "Okay, now go!" I ordered, pushing him away from me. I couldn't afford to get emotional.

I skirted around the demon's legs, rushing to the back of it. A ruined building lay in pieces, but still had enough intact for me to climb up a fair way. At least two stories, I thought.

I rushed to the building, and inside. A half broken staircase was against one wall, and I hurried up it. At the top, big stone blocks was arranged in a way that made climbing them possible, so I climbed as quickly as I could manage.

I stood at the top of the roof, my t-shirt fluttering in the wind. I brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and drew my bow. I was level with the demon's other eye now. I just needed to get its attention. "Hey!" I screamed. "Ugly!"

The demon turned, and fixed its fiery eyes on me. My insides felt like a puddle of water, but I gritted my teeth and slowly raised my arm, reaching for an arrow.

Unfortunately, just as my fingertips were brushing the arrow, the demon raised it's boomerang. "Ha-di!" It bellowed.

A glowing red picture flashed in the air, and I knew in my heart that this was it, as searing pain ripped through my body, and I collapsed forward, free-falling two stories down.

Pain. Red. Flashing.

My eyes fluttered open, the harsh sunlight sending shoots of pain to my head. I groaned, but the sound that came out was barely audible.

"Y/N?"

A broken voice. Tears. Pain.

"P-Percy?" I tried to say, my vision blurry. My senses were dull; I couldn't feel anything but the horrible pain.

Everywhere. Pain. A bright light.

"No, Y/N, it's okay," my best friend said, as I lay dying in his arms. I had no idea how I was even alive at this point, I'd fallen all the way to the ground. I'd been hit by that magic spell thing, how was I even breathing?

Breathing. Pain. Ragged.

My short, laboured gasps for air sent sharp shoots of pain rocketing through my lungs and chest. My head pounded, and something warm and wet was trickling down my temple. My vision swam in and out, blurry and indistinguishable.

Pain. Crying. Love.

"No!" Percy's voice was becoming more desperate. "No! You can't take her! You can't!" He was screaming at the sky. "Leave her be! Take me instead! You can't!"

Sobs broke out of him, ripping my heart to shreds. "Don't... don't cry for me Percy," I managed. I tried to touch his cheek, but the effort to move made me gasp in pain. It was too difficult.

"Y/N..." The way he said my name, the way his voice sounded, it was like shattered glass.

"Percy," I breathed. "I love you."

"No matter what," he cried, tears in his voice.

"No matter what..." I repeated. I was losing my grip on reality. Already, my vision was slipping even further into total darkness, I couldn't feel anything but the pain. I was dying. I was.

Death. Love. Pain.

"No. No, you can't leave me, sweetheart," Percy begged. "You have to stay, you have to wake up!" He started getting frantic. "Help! Somebody help me! I need ambrosia, nectar, something..."

His voice broke, as if realisation had finally dawned on him. Nothing could save me now.

This was the end.

Campers gathered around Percy and I, crumpled in a heap on the ground. The war was won, the demons defeated, but victory had come with a price.

A sacrifice. A life. A death.

"Someone help me..." Percy sobbed, holding onto my limp body as he cried. "I love you, Y/N..."

My last glimpse of this life were of his sea-green eyes, filled with tears, as they gazed into my own. Darkness filled my vision, and everything went black.

Death. Dark. Nothing.

#percy jackson #fanfiction #pjo #fanfic #rick riordan #percy jackson x reader #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N. He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow.

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them!

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them.

It was ridiculous.

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about.

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did.

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction.

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out.

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored.

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls.

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there.

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance.

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around.

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall.

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails.

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.”

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot.

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some.

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep.

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted.

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest.

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve.

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box.

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box.

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table.

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.”

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.”

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night.

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent.

“Dean.” She called after him.

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently.

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter.

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already.

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be.

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be.

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books.

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories.

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice.

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line.

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed.

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left.

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood.

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him.

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@hobby27

#dean winchester x reader #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #endverse #endverse series #endverse!dean series #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff

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kasssscali · 9 months

Note

Hi there, @anna99blog here, coming in to ask for a request, is that's alright with you.

Do you know the scene in Disney's Aladdin where Aladdin returns Princess Jasmine to the palace after an evening together and the Magic Carpet gives him a push to kiss Jasmine? Well, how about something like that with Netflix Monkey King and the reader?

They get back from a romantic evening and they decided to stay at a inn/camp out for the night (whichever you prefer) and they tell each other goodnight. When they slowly start to lean in, Stick gives the push and then fireworks go off when their lips touch.

I hope this is okay and not too much for you to handle. Have a good day/night to you

oh this is good shit right here to write, don’t worry this isn’t a lot

Also thank you, very much appreciated <3

It took him some balls to finally ask you out

”Heyy, I was thinkin’ how about you and me go out for tonight? Y’know! Just you and me?”

you questioned if this was a date, and he said it wasn’t, it was just you guys hanging out alone

the night you two went out was actually the most fun Monkey King ever got to share with someone, he’s been alone a lot throughout most of his life and was rejected by everyone

his worst fear was you were going to reject him like everyone else did

but you didn’t, and the night was a blast

he’s a tease, and he teased you a lot like poking and making certain jokes to get on your nerves

that’s his love language, and you know that and laugh along with him

Monkey wants you to have fun, he’s scared of boring you on the date

I don’t think Monkey is the type to want to sit down at a restaurant surrounded by a bunch of people for a romantic evening

he wants one on one with you, he wants your full attention and doesn’t want you to get even a little distracted by commotion around you

most of the date will be him carrying you bridal style flying around on the stick

To tease you even more he might pretend you drop you “HA! Gotcha! C’mon you didn’t REALLY think I was going to drop you?”

And to finish off the night, it was your idea to camp with him for the night

Monkey gently lowers you having your feet firmly on the ground with no tricks this time

You tell him goodnight and how your grateful to have spent time with him

“Who wouldn’t want to spend time with me?” Monkey really is touched that you agreed, he doesn’t want to show his vulnerable side so don’t be surprised with his remarks

Monkey will admit it was fun, and say goodnight, and you both start leaning it

Monkey is hypnotized by your eyes that he doesn’t even know he’s leaning in

Stick being the best friend/wingman jumps out of Monkey‘s hand and pushes him

Your lips make contact, and let me tell you Monkey King’s eyes go wide

he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t close his eyes he just stares at you

he’s waiting for you to make a move

Monkey is surprised to see you close your eyes and begin kissing him, he loves the way you caress his side burns while kissing him

he’ll finally close his eyes and kiss you back tilting his head into it

you have to be the first to pull away, he could kiss you into eternity but you would die from lack of breathing :)

when you pull away Monkey is in awe, he’s scratching the back of his head and he’s just thinking about that kiss

you both say goodnight and depart

”STICK BUDDY!” Of course he’s doing his little dance “your the best!”

#monkey king #sun wukong #journey to the west #jttw #jttw monkey king #monkey king 2023 #sun wukong x reader #monkey king netflix #wukong #jttw sun wukong #monkey king x reader

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luveline · 2 years

Note

For the zombie AU with Steve, maybe a night of survival in the cold? Reluctant cuddling, bonding?

YESSSS tysm for ur request i owe u my life

You pull your coat closed around your middle and shiver.

"Come here," Steve says, tucking the map under his arm.

You move to stand in front of him because he's slipped into his caretaking tone. A nice change. Usually he's just mildly annoyed.

He takes the zipper of your coat into his hand and scolds as he tries to fix it for the fiftieth time today. It's awful timing for it to break because it's cold as winter and you're on the road. A fire, as you've learned, would be a mistake. You close your eyes at the thought of such blistering warmth and listen to him cuss under his breath.

"Sorry," you say eventually. His quiet makes you nervous.

"Not your fault, just..." He gives up and steps away from you. "Bad timing."

You hide your hands in your sleeves.

"Maybe we should stop anyways. We're not exactly moving fast," he says bitterly.

You like the sound of that.

There's a tarp at the bottom of your backpack for occasions like this. You shed your bag and dig for it as Steve drops his own. It's not great, your having to carry blankets with you — they're heavy and take up a lot of space — but it's worse to freeze to death outdoors.

The sun creeps down low in the horizon lazily. You think it's as reluctant to go as you are for it to dissapear, its rays the only thing keeping the tip of your nose from freezing and falling off, no doubt.

You search for a stick. It's harder than it sounds.

Steve doesn't like walking along the road and you don't blame him, often there's cars or bikes weaving through the carcasses of cars picked clean, so you hide in the tree bank. A road block or something similar to the south must've broken recently, and the sound of engines revving at night gets more frequent. Better to stay hidden, even if finding somewhere to camp at night proves difficult.

The stick is necessary to build a makeshift tent, but the trees here are all spindly and thin-branched.

You return triumphant with something just long enough to keep the tarp from your bodies to find Steve's already found a better, chunkier stick and established a camp.

"Don't tell me, or anything. Just let me look for sticks for an hour."

"Your perception of time is getting worse."

"Some of us don't wear watches, 'cos we aren't rich, privileged babies."

He actually manages to laugh at that one, which is odd. It's one of the weakest insults you've ever thrown at him.

"That was bad," he says.

Oh. He's laughing at you.

"Jerk."

"What do you want? I have tinned peaches or a chocolate granola bar-"

"Obviously the granola-"

"With laxatative properties," he finishes, holding it between his fingers like a guy from the commercials. He shakes it at you enticingly.

"I'm not that hungry."

"Too bad."

You both sit near the makeshift tent in your heavy clothes. Steve stretches the blanket over your legs with a warning, "If you get peach juice on this I'm not gonna talk to you till Michigan."

You take the open can of peaches and pretend to tip it toward the blanket. "Don't tempt me, Harrington."

You have to keep talking because if you don't you'll cry. Really cry. Eating dinner like this from a can in a bed of leaf litter makes you want to cry. Every mouthful is sweet and sticky and your eyes get heavy with tears.

Steve understands what you're like by now. "I really fucking hate peaches," he says grandly. "I know you're surprised."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"No?"

"Do guys eat fruit?"

It's a talent.

"'Do guys eat fruit?'" he quotes seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him.

He leans back against his rucksack and crosses his arms behind his head. He could be shooting the breeze, that's how relaxed Steve Harrington looks.

You laugh reluctantly into the can of peaches as you take a little sip of the juice and almost choke.

"I gotta eat that too, you know? Don't spit in it."

"Sorry," you say genuinely, wiping your sticky face with the back of your hand.

"You should be. Gross." He doesn't sound very bothered.

Steve eats his own peach slices with a shiver and tosses the can overhead. It goes really far, hitting the base of a tree across the way. You can imagine him in his gym clothes rather than what he wears now. Prim yellow shorts. Clean gym t-shirt with his name written in pen across the front.

"You can sleep first," he says.

You don't argue, sliding under the tarp with your blanket.

It's easier like this. The sun hasn't quite set but there's really nothing else to do. You'll sleep, Steve will wake you up in a couple of hours and then you'll swap. You'll wake Steve up when the sun rises, and another day on the road will begin.

The floor is very, very cold.

You try your best to stop from shivering and bring the blanket up to cover your face. The sun goes down and the last of its heat goes with it.

You stick it out. Complaining won't make it warmer. Steve doesn't even have a blanket.

"Y/N?" he whispers.

Leaves shift.

"Are you awake?"

You lift your head to see him where he sits at the opening of the 'tent'. It's difficult to make out his features now.

"I can hear your teeth," he says, eyes impassive as they scour your face.

"S-s-sorry," you shudder.

He stares at you for a while before stretching out his legs and shuffling across the dirt toward you. His hands are like ice as he works them under your shoulders and arms, dragging you into his lap.

You're tired and cold. "Steve," you grumble miserably, "what are you doing?"

"Body heat."

He doesn't stop until you're settled, slouching down so you can lean comfortably against his chest. He pulls the ends of your coats together tightly, readjusts your blanket, and covers your hands with both of his.

He yanks the tarp down and covers you with that, too, the both of your engulfed in plastic.

"What if it rains?" you ask.

"On our frozen corpses, you mean?"

You cringe and turn in his arms to hide your face in his scratchy jacket. His head drops toward his chest, chin gracing the top of your head. It's like a hug. It is a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and try not to think about it.

It's not the most comfortable position in the world. Your back doesn't quite want to turn right, and his thigh probably hurts from your left elbow. Honestly, it's a pretty pathetic excuse for a hug.

"Why don't you just lie down with me?" you say into his coat.

"And get eaten?"

"There's no geeks around here."

"You say that," he murmurs, hands beginning a slow journey down the length of your back, "and then I'll wake up missing one of my legs."

Using the tarp as a blanket was a good idea. Already you feel warmer. Your face defrost where it's hidden in his front.

"Anymore stupid questions tonight?" Steve asks, voice low and amicable.

"Har-har," you mumble.

He rubs your back. Your eyes well up and you bite your lip to stop from crying. It's really, stupidly nice to be close to someone, to him. You miss comfort and music and eating enough, but you miss hugs most of all. You miss hugs from the people who loved you.

"Do you like me?" you whisper.

As soon as you've asked, you wish you hadn't. He doesn't answer, and you think Good, he didn't hear me.

"No more stupid questions," he says finally, tightening his grips on you. "Go to sleep."

more steve zombie!au

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #zombie!au #steve zombie!au

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callofdudes · 8 months

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ghost x fem or gn reader headcannons of a zombie apocalypse AU??? just them trying to survive with the rest of the 141<33

This tickles a little itch in my brain, might have gotten a little carried away 😊

Ghost x reader Zombie apocalypse headcanons

You'd think in a million years no one was ready for the apocalypse. Hell most people didn't even know how it started. But it did. Cities were crumbling, rabid monsters that followed their hunger for blood anywhere it took them.

You were one of few in the grand scheme to survive. Your parents, siblings, they weren't as lucky. You had been unable to protect them at all. Though after escaping and going on the run with some spares of clothing and your father's pistol in your pocket you were soon to become aware this was your new life.

It wasn't easy having to learn to hunt in one day or find all these tactics to remain silent, undetected, all of that.

You felt alone. So alone...

That is until one day, after having spent two days out in the wilderness with not a hint of prey around and you were starving. Walking through the woods up stumbled upon a camp. A fire was lit, a small pot strung by three bundles sticks above the flame, and something delicious boiling away.

Your curiosity and hunger got the best of you and you toed into the camp. A canopy set up of sorts and some old books that looked to have been torn for fire food.

You were about to look through a cooler under the canopy when you heard the sound of a gun above. "I wouldn't do that mate."

Your eyes snapped up, looking up at the tree tops to see... A man. A large man strung up in the tree by a rather thick rope. One used by professional rock climbers and such. Perfectly sat on a thick enough tree branch to hold his weight.

"I... Apologize... I wasn't trying to- I'm just hungry."

He scrutinized you, noticing the backpack and the possibility of a weapon on you. He flicked something on the hook of his rope and hopped off the branch like it was the back of a horse and slid gracefully back down the tree.

You noticed then his mask. A chilling thing. Considering you had been around zombies the last few years, that was saying something. And my dear he was tall.

"Hungry huh? Got a group?"

You could tell he was very excited to get you out of his little set up and didn't seem to want any meddling around with outsiders. People he didn't know. And in this day, hell you could understand and respect that.

"No... Do you?"

He didn't answer, and probably wouldn't answer most of your questions by the way he was acting. However, he didn't exactly push you away either. He was more waiting for you to get the hint through your thick skull and piss off.

And yet you didn't move.

"Look, I don't work with people, you don't want to be with me. So piss off." He finally grunted, checking whatever he had boiling away.

"Sir, I understand. But I'm hungry, I have no where to go and you look like you could be a good protective companion."

"We wouldn't be companions. Extra luggage is what I call it."

"I won't bug you I promise I'll be quiet, but.... Please??"

He rolled his eyes, tearing down the canopy of the set up and shoving it down into his large duffle back. "Fine. But if you piss me off I'm dumping you at the side of the woods alright??"

You nod, slowly sitting down by the stack of books, your stomach twisting and growling painfully. He looked at you, then his food. He sighed and pulled the pot off the small fire and doused it out, finding a small spare bowl and shoved it your way.

He was surprisingly lenient. Although he was telling the truth when he told you to shut up. He didn't want to talk to you and he clearly didn't trust any part of you one bit.

He allowed you to keep your gun and you stayed out of his way. And you tagged along for any scraps of the meals he would make. Even if he clearly was not the best chef in the woods.

This continued for upwards of three months. Not much changed. You learned his name, Ghost, and he pretty much knew yours from near the start of this expedition.

He was closed off, maybe from the fact zombies were a total 65% percent of the population mark up now. Maybe something else.

Eventually though, you made a small trip at a gas station. Ghost went in to search the place while you remained near the entrance, a meat shield should anything try to get through the door. How nice of him.

You stood by the door in waiting, your little pistol ready for any threat while Simon rummaged through food inside the store. It was dead quiet outside. Not a single sound.

You were waiting patiently until you heard a clatter from inside and a loud screech. You knew that all too well.

You ran inside, your pistol at the ready but Ghost had it covered, letting the thing tear into a chip bag and shot it in the back. And then he spotted you.

"I had that." You pouted.

"Sure you did tough stuff." Ghost roughly messed with your matted hair and you were off soon after.

You were pretty much just extra baggage to him for the most part. Though he fed you, bandaged you, cleaned your wounds and made sure you were always able to defend yourself.

"You solid?"

"I have two more clips. Take them, and use them sparingly."

"We don't have all day, we cross the river by dusk and then you can rest... don't make me carry you."

But slowly his belligerently tough nature gives way to care. Slowly here and there you can point it out. The extra glances, checking you in more spots than you say it hurts just to make sure you don't have a single scratch or bruise.

Giving you extra soup or food of whatever has been made. He's strong and healthy but will ration off, having less than two meals a day has become a normality, one at all was a blessing from God, so he'd give you what he could.

And then after his scouting trip was done, he brought you back home. Simon and his small group were all ex military. I say ex military because despite the weapons there isn't much of one anymore.

He brought you back to an old military base, a barbwire fence with a buzzer stretching high and all around the base keeping it secure.

Pressing the buzzer and announcing his presence the door was opened. "Don't worry... only two of them bite." Simon teases, shifting his gun behind his back as you come inside.

He walked into one of the main areas which lead down to the barracks. Inside were three people around a small campout, a fire pit of sorts made in the middle of the living room with ash and bricks.

"Son, you're back." An older man said, standing. "And whose this??" He watched you intensely, looking you up and down.

"This is my carry-on. Dragged them through the wastes with me."

He nods, walking over to shake your hand. "John Price. Glad to see you're well and safe under Simon's care."

So that's what his name was. Simon. A lovely name.

The next to greet you was a man with a ball cap on and stern brown eyes. Looking like he was far away in though. "Kyle Garrick. Welcome to our... bunker."

The last to greet you was surprisingly a little hesitant. Johnny was the least assumed to your presence. He was all for welcoming people but the current conditions has left too many dead or gone and no one trusted.

"John MacTavish... you can call me Soap though, so you don't get me and the captain confused."

And before you knew it you were given a room in the barracks and a place at your table. They were very nice people, they gave you a job, and split the resources and news Simon brought of his last months mapping. So much had changed since they'd last really gone outside.

Overtime you grew to understand how it all worked. Gaz was a bodyguard of sorts, when you needed to go outside to fix something, get some water to filter from a river not terribly far away, he would be there. He'd go short distances with you and the others, being their back and watching their six.

Soap was more of the tinkerer. He put together traps and levers and fixed up any weapons or gear that needed repairing. He called most of it Guerilla warfare.

Price was the leader, you could tell. He had everyone under his voice and what he says went. If there was something going on outside he'd be the first one out there to see if he could take care of it alone. He went out on food and water runs sometimes as well. He is also resident cook.

And Simon, he did a bit of everything from what you saw.

Soap had managed to get the power back up briefly in the base. Somewhere a power grid was still operational that the base connected to and he got the heaters working. Even on colder when you found yourself alone with a blanket around you, you weren't alone.

Simon would watch. His sleep schedule was still on night duty mode even if they were surrounded by brick and mortar.

He'd even sit with you sometimes. The more you came out to sit in the living room the more he'd be with you. Wrapping w second blanket around you or offering you his jacket.

It was small, but it meant something, to both of you.

Ghost eventually stopped letting you come with him into the wastes. After you got hurt badly, needing a tetanus shot they didn't have, Simon didn't let you go with him. He couldn't. Not because you were weak, you know why. He's just a big softy under all that muscle toned to harsh circumstance.

So you'd wait. By the window where you could see the gate, you'd wait until you could see him coming back. One night even passing out at the window when he returned, and he delivered you gently back to your bed, wrapping you in the blankets.

And after careful consideration, a gentle, small kiss on the forehead seared by the fabric of his mask.

Over the many months and then a year you lived with them you became family. You saw how they took care of each other. When Gaz got sick it was like bees back to the queen as they flurried to help him, and you did too.

He was weak, and you didn't want him to catch anything, so you would gently sit him up.

"Here Kyle, gentle."

Kyle winced in thank you as you fed him the soup Price had made.

You couldn't help but notice also how protective Simon was of them all. If Johnny didn't like the taste of the texture of something Price had made and would refuse to eat it, Simon would help.

"Johnny, you need to eat. Try and focus on me, not the texture. At least eat it." And Johnny usually would.

"Guys... I need to run outside really quickly, you think I could take one of you??" Kyle asked while Simon was already standing, grabbing his gun and escorting Kyle outside to watch over him.

Whenever Price was handing out assignments Simon would take the bulk of the work that had to do with being outside that gated fence. If there wasn't enough food for all of you Simon would cut back so you and Price would have enough.

He genuinely cares for all of you deeply under the mask.

The playful banter as you went out on scouting missions with him when you bugged him enough to let you go increased.

The affection he was willing to take and give like a hand on the shoulder or a hug. Sometimes even inviting you to wrap your arms around him and seek his warmth while laying under the cold stars in the sky.

Whispering to you on nights you couldn't sleep. He always took night watch, no exceptions. When you couldn't fall asleep he'd whisper to you. About random things. Maybe something he did the other day or what he remembered about the world before it went to shit and how beautiful it was.

"Simon..." you whispered back, holding onto his jacket. "I'm scared." You admit, tears filling your eyes as you thought of how you might die out here. This would be the end.

Simon brought you in a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. "I know y/n.... I know."

Simon was scared too. In his own way. Scared for himself, but scared for you, for his team. In the end Simon is a selfless creature and you all come before him.

Your breathing slowed, relaxing. Feeling safe and protected in his arms, because you were. Simon had you, he's always got you, and he always will.

Come zombies or raiders, or manic survivalists, anything. Simon won't let it hurt his team. He won't let them hurt you. Not you. He may not say it, but looking back, he's glad he met you that day in the woods...

I do hope this is satisfactory. I had started this a bit ago and came back to it after I posted my first zombie fic. Enjoy egg folk.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #call of duty headcanons #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader

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