Rookie Leon definitely puts on careless whisper, thinking it's peak sex music and will absolutely get you in the mood
STOPP, I LAUGHED FOR 5 MINUTES READING THIS LMAOO
Just imagining him "casually" walking over to the small, old music player and "casually" putting on that song makes me laugh. He would turn his head over his shoulder, trying to see if he had managed to get ur attention the moment the slow, intimate sound of the saxophone filled the living room.
But your eyes were fixed on the tv, too focused as you ate some of the cereal bar you had left in the fridge. Leon wanted to bang his forehead against the wall for not getting any reaction, because come on, this was the peak of sensuality, of desire... to him, of course.
So he didn't give up, starting to walk surreptitiously towards the couch, a rather uncasual hum escaping his lips. With one hand at his side and the other awkwardly playing with the edge of a cushion, he glanced at you. And you glanced at him too.
"What are you doing?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, as you saw him awkwardly stop there. "Nothing, just... I don't know, listen to the music." he said, trying his hardest not to smile and try to seduce you. When he didn't get a response, he started to move closer and clumsily sway to the music.
"Come here..." he murmured, taking your hand to help you up from the couch. You stood with a small giggle, letting him pull you close to his chest to dance with him. Both of you were barefoot, wearing old pajamas, with the song playing softly in the background. "Okay, Romeo... What are you trying to do?" you asked playfully, letting him sway you against him in a "dance." Seeing that you were simply laughing, he couldn't help but laugh too. "Come on, baby..." he groaned shyly, resting his forehead on your shoulder and pulling you into a hug.
He felt the heat rising up his neck because his seduction skills were terrible.
sometimes i think about leon and remember the girlies on tumblr have their whole blog dedicated to him 💔 i was thinking about reader and re4r leon where reader is just looking at leon and his rookie cop photo and theyre all over him and squishing his cheeks until eventually theyre on top of him watching him whine the way he did when he was younger 🤤 i have no clue on your take on this, but i would love to see you write it!
AWWWW, THIS IS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺
Okay, maybe it started out as something silly and quiet. An afternoon with your bf, you sitting comfortably on his lap, both of you looking through old photos, mixing vulnerability with small, shared moments.
Until that photo landed at your fingertips. Him, with cute cheeks, bright eyes, and perfectly styled hair. The reaction was immediate, you pounced on him in a massive burst of cuteness.
"Awwww, look at you—" you said, completely euphoric, trying to squeeze his cheeks and kiss him at the same time, trapping him beneath you. "You're soo cute, I can't..." you murmured nonstop, between loud "muahs" from your lips hitting his cheeks or lips. Any part of his face was fine.
His hands hung in the air for a few moments, and he turned his head to the side, a small smile appearing at the corners of his lips. He was used to your little bursts of cuteness. "Come on, it's not that big of a deal," he complained, his voice free of annoyance. His nose crinkled slightly, and a soft pink blush graced his ears. "It's just a photo—" he tried to say between kisses, accepting everything you were giving him.
"What do you mean? Look at you, you looked so...baby." you said, gazing at him with those bright eyes, and you might have cried right now, your heart simply couldn't bear it.
He simply sighed, embracing you and letting you pour all your tenderness onto his cheeks and face.
I hope I understood what you meant, and thank you for your patience, really. I hope you have a good day 🫶🏻💞
Pairing: Future Daryl x Winchester!Reader
Word count: 789
Summary: You and the boys stop at a little burger joint and see Daryl.
Part 2 of Two Hours West
Walking in, you were hit with the wonderful smell of burgers. “Oh, man.” You sighed. “I think we found Dean heaven, and my vacation spot.”
Dean threw his arm around your shoulder. “Too right sis. Let’s show them how it’s done.” The two of you quickly made your way over to a booth, Sam trailing along behind.
You sat down and glanced over the menu, deciding on the biggest, meatiest they had. When you ordered the waitress looked at you in disbelief, causing you to smirk. Most people didn’t believe you could eat so much, what with you being a girl. But boy, did you love to prove them wrong.
The food arrived quickly and the three of you dug in. After eating, what you were sure was the best burger you had ever tasted, you and the boys decided to stay and have a drink. This way it would give you all a chance to rest and maybe hustle some pool, before finding somewhere to rest for the night.
After you were halfway done your second drink, your eyebrows went up when you saw the man from earlier at the bar. He was with a couple other guys, laughing and drinking his beer.
It was so strange to see him, but you had to admit, you were excited about it. Not that it would matter, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.
Your eyes kept glancing over to him, you knew you were being obvious but you couldn’t help it. Every time you heard his voice, you automatically looked over.
“Something wrong?” Dean asked, your suspicious behaviour putting him on edge. “You spotted something here?”
You shook your head. “No, not exactly. Just someone familiar.” You appeased him. “Nothing big or bad.”
“Damn Y/N, if you acted any shiftier, they would call the police.” Sam spoke. “If it is someone you wanna talk to, go talk to them. If you don’t, then we’ll leave.”
Raising an eyebrow, you smirked. “Fine, then.” You stuck your tongue out at him. If anything, you would have thought they’d be dragging you right back out.
You slid out of your seat, taking your drink with you. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice was low.
“Yes Dean?” You asked sweetly.
Dean looked at you and grumbled. “It wouldn’t happen to be the biker boy from earlier? The one who is over there with a bunch of friends?” Dean stared at you, awaiting your answer.
“Yes.” You answered, quick to jump to your own defense. “Look I just wanna talk to him. If he tries anything I don’t want, you know I will do him some serious harm. Just please don’t make a scene.”
You gave Dean your best puppy dog eyes, he sighed. “Fine. Go and have fun.”
You rushed to his side quickly, kissing his cheek. “Thanks Dean.” Walking towards the unnamed man, you hoped that he didn’t get completely weirded out by you showing up at the same bar as him. “I guess you were right.” You smiled once you were near him.
He looked up, a smile crossing his face. “I guess I was. Nice to see you again Darlin’.” He pulled away from his group of friends. “I’ll catch y’all later.”
“You didn’t have to do that ya know?” You smiled at him blushing slightly, following him as he directed you to an empty table.
He pulled out a chair for you and sat in the opposite seat, placing his beer on the table before him. “Now why wouldn’t I want to have a nice, private conversation with a gorgeous girl like yourself? Especially one with such a fondness for beautiful bikes.”
You sipped your drink and licked your lips. “Well, more like a fondness for pictures.” You chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”
“Daryl.” He told you. “So, not a bike fan?”
“Never said that.” You teased. “I just stopped to get a picture of your bike.”
Daryl smirked. “Well at least you have a creative eye. I appreciate beauty, I don’t create it.”
You blushed, ducking your head down. “Well I wouldn’t say I create it, just capture it.”
“There is no way anything you take, make or otherwise do wouldn’t be beautiful.” Daryl smiled, reaching forward to lift your chin up. You gazed into his eyes, grateful for his kind words.
“Well.” You said, laughing off his words. “Things got way too deep for a first conversation there.”
Daryl laughed, removing his hand from yours skin. “True. So what about this weather?” The two of you laughed, drifting easily into light, flirty conversation.
Hearing you laughing, Dean glanced over at you and shook his head. “At least she’s not like you.” Sam laughed, catching Dean’s attention again.
Pairing: Future Daryl x Winchester!Reader
Word count: 1,048
Summary: You and Daryl meet for the first time.
Part 1 of Two Hours West
Looking out the window, the loose hairs that had escaped your ponytail whipped around your face. The cool Georgia evening was pleasant, and you were looking forward to some excellent picture opportunities. You had some from all over the country, from all times of the year. You started it back when you turned 16, and Sam had bought you a digital camera. Nothing over the top, nothing flashy, but it was perfect for you. Three years later, and you were still using it.
You spotted a motorcycle off the road a bit, standing on a dirt road that went back into some tall grass. “Dean? Can you stop? I want to get a picture of the bike. I think in black and white it would look really neat.” You had the idea in your mind, and there was an itch in your fingers to get it. Even if that meant lying on the ground, getting dirty. It was worth it.
Dean pulled over the car, rolling his eyes at you playfully. He knew when you set your heart on a particular shot, there would be no living with you if you missed it. You darted outta the car, barely stopping to grab your camera as you did.
As you approached the bike, you took your time, surveying the area and watching for the best possible angle to take the perfect picture. Getting down on the hard ground; you laid on your stomach, fiddling with your camera settings. You bit your lip, debating whether to stick to a natural shot or a classic black and white scene. Dean beeped the horn, prompting you to hurry up. You decided to just take both pictures. First you took the nice, natural picture; looking down at your camera quickly you smiled. You were drawn into the beauty of the colours and the contrast, against such a delicate background, you could almost feel the power coming from the bike.
You were so focused on the bike that you hadn’t heard anything except Dean’s impatient honking. “Can I help ya?” Came a somewhat amused voice. Looking up, you smiled shyly and got up.
“Sorry…” You chuckled lightly, brushing off your chest. “I, uh, like taking pictures.” Holding up your camera for a second, you blushed.
He chuckled lightly. “Get what ya wanted?”
You nodded, smiling. “I think so.” Hearing another honk, you looked over your shoulder. What you could see of Dean, he wasn’t liking you talking to some guy. Sighing, you looked back at him. “I should go.” You motioned to the car. “Nice bike.” You gave him a small wave and turned to head back to the Impala.
“Thanks.” He called over to you. “See you around some time.”
You looked at him as you got into the Impala. “Only if you’re lucky.” You threw him a wink as you closed the door. He laughed at you, blushing slightly. Dean quickly took off, muttering under his breath. Your eyes stayed on the beautiful bike and it’s handsome owner, long after the became blips in the distance.
“Soooo…did you get your picture?” Sam asked, trying to break the awkward tension in the car.
“Yeah, I did, Sammy.” You looked down at your camera once more, grateful for having a gorgeous picture to go with a fun memory.
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror and sighed. “Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to talk to strangers?”
You cracked up and looked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to limit your one night stands to limit your chance of STDs?” You shot back, an amused look on your face at the glare he shot you. “Or since you’re not ‘talking’ to strangers…does the whole thing kinda go out the window?”
“You’re hilarious Y/N/N, you know that?” Dean smirked at me sarcastically. “We got the next big comedy star back there, Sammy.”
“Jeez, you two, calm down. Just cause Y/N here has a little crush on a biker dude.” Sam laughed.
“Shut up, Sammy, I do not have a crush. I just met the guy.” You smacked the back of Sam’s head. “Besides, I will never see him again, and even if I did I have you two big oafs to protect me.”
“You’re right there, Y/N/N, you think Dean is bad? Any man that tries to court my sister shall have to get past the gigantor.” Sam roared playfully, making a show of himself as you and Dean laughed.
“Court me?” You snorted through your laughter. “What is this the middle ages? Make sure you get at least 2 cows and a chicken for my hand. I will accept nothing less.”
Sam lost it. “Where would we keep two cows?” He glanced at you. “Now…two cows worth of meat might be more up our alley.”
Dean grinned, playing along. “That’s a lot of burgers, Sammy.” He added in.
You gasped, feigning shock. “You would choose burgers over me? I feel the love.”
“Well, we would get less sass form burgers than we would you Y/N/N.” Sam laughed. “Ya have to admit it.”
They both looked at you, waiting for you response, mirth in their eyes. “Fine, I admit it.” You held your hands up. “I may be sassy, but Dean, you are a manwhore, whilst you Sam, are a bookworm.”
“Hey!” They both exclaimed. They looked at each and then back to you. The three of you burst out laughing.
Up ahead you saw a sign for a burger bar only a few miles away, just at that moment your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.
“Come on, boys, seeing as you would rather choose burgers over your poor, unfortunate sister. You have no choice but to buy me food as compensation for breaking my heart.” You said playfully.
Dean looked back at you. “Is this your way of telling us that you are hungry, and want me to drive to that burger bar?”
You avoided his gaze. “Maybe.” You drew it out, knowing that you would soon be getting your food.
“Whatever you want, princess.” Dean sped up slightly, just as eager to get some food as you were.
Sam smirked. “Sucker.” He laughed.
“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same.” Dean pointed out.
────୨ৎ Pairing; Daryl Dixon x Female!reader | no mention of reader name.
Setting; no specific season or era.
Warnings; none really. Just dad Daryl being a sweetheart to his daughter and a menace to his wife.
Please like, comment, reblog and share with friends!! Every interaction is appreciated. I will NOT tolerate hate or bad words. Anything in that nature will be deleted.
You are responsible for the media you consume.
────୨ৎ Author’s note; inspired by the lovely user @angelwings-crossbowstrings and her post. I hope you don’t mind, I had to write a little something 🥹
Requests - OPEN
Please check previous trigger warnings ᥫ᭡
Page Masterlist & Requests ⋆.𐙚 ̊
The Walking Dead Masterlist 𝜗𝜚
Word count; 800
"WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO BEING HER?"- I hissed through clenched teeth, my boot driving into the chest cavity of a walker with a sickening squelch. I twisted, narrowly dodging an arrow that zipped past my ear as another walker slammed into my left side.
"S'no one to watch her" Daryl muttered, his voice low and rough, eyes scanning the remaining walkers like a hawk. "I ain't letting nothin' happen to her."
"There was, you just don't trust nobody," I shot back, jamming my knife into a deadheads skull. "And tell me why I couldn't stay an' watch her?". Daryl snorted, shaking his head "cause I ain't trust nobody round you neither. Some asshole might try makin' a move."
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. There it was, Daryl denied it every damn time, but jealousy ran through him like blood. "Daryl," I said, grinning. "I just had your baby. Ain't nobody trying to hit on me. And even if they did, you really think I'd let 'em?"
For a moment, we stood there in the store, more walkers far enough away that we could afford the pause. He knew I could handle myself. Hell, I’d proven that a hundred times over. But knowing it and accepting it were two different things.
Daryl always wanted to be there, to put himself between me and anything that might hurt me. To be my stubborn, knight in a battered leather vest.
His mouth opened, probably ready to mutter some half hearted excuse, when a sound drifted from the bundle strapped against his chest. The swaddle blending in perfectly with his shirt. A bright, bubbling giggle spilled from our daughter, soft and squeaky, the kind of laugh that sounded like pure sunshine. It burst out of her in little hiccuping peals, so full of delight it was impossible not to smile.
Daryl froze and I laughed harder and nudged his arm. "See?" I said. "Even she thinks you're ridiculous." Another giggle answered, and Daryl rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
A lone walker lurched towards us from behind. It was too tall for my knife to reach cleanly, and being a short ass suddenly felt like a serious disadvantage. Without thinking, I grabbed the axe hanging from Daryl's belt, spun on my heel and brought it down in a clean arc. The walker dropped instantly, its head splitting apart before it even hit the ground.
The second it fell, Daryl slapped a hand over our daughter's eyes. She immediately squirmed beneath his grip, cranking her neck to peek around his fingers. "Don't look at that, Bean."
I stared at him in disbelief, "Oh, so you'll drag her into this?" I threw a hand towards the small herd shuffling towards us. "But that's where you draw the line?"
"Yep."
I stared at him again, expecting more. But, Daryl just stood there, meeting my gaze for a second, his jaw working like he was trying to find words and gave up halfway. Instead, he looked down at our daughter. A faint smile tugging at his mouth as he brushed a hand over her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Unbelievable." I muttered under my breath.
"Nah." He smirked faintly.
"Shit," Daryl hissed, eyes flickering between the small herd and the patch of ground where we stood. "What?" I asked, knife still planted in my hand. "Outta arrows." He jerked his chin towards the bag behind us, gesturing for me to grab him more. I nodded, sprinting over towards the tactical bag we always dragged along on runs. Though, ever since Bean came along, the damn thing seemed to of doubled in size.
"Why is this bag so fucking big all of a sudden?" I grunted, digging through layer of supplies. A growl sounded nearby. I shoved aside what I think was a blanket, a bottle and what looked suspiciously like a stuffed rabbit. "Daryl," I yelled. "Where the fuck are your stupid arrows?."
No answer.
"And why the fuck are there nappies and nappy cream in the weapon bag?" He glanced over his shoulder for half a second, looking genuinely confused about why it was a problem. His crossbow lay abandoned besides him while he drove his knife into a walkers skull. "S'practical, useful." He said simply.
"Useful for what? Fighting nappy rash?" Another walker lunged. Daryl yanked his blade free and buried it into the next one's temple. "Bean needs 'em."
"This is a weapons bag!" I snapped.
"S'also a Bean bag," he said, tilting his head "Found my arrows yet?"
I stared at the chaotic mess of nappies, bottles and ammo shoved into the bag. "Jesus Christ," I muttered moving more things around.
Daryl smirked, "try next to the applesauce."
Thanks for reading!! Make sure you leave a like, comment and reblog ᥫ᭡.
Summary~ Leon just wants to be wrapped up in your arms. Away from the world, away from that place, safe where he is with you.
An~ I really need Leon to give me a much needed hug. I’m just happy I’m at least writing stuff again. 😵💫 anyways, I want to write a dad’s best friend! Leon x Reader, someone tell me to do it 😵💫
Tags~ no smut, pure fluff, clingy leon, not proof read so please bare with me
Master link
Leon’s back ached, his head was pounding with a headache. His hands were sore from the endless punching, grabbing and throwing he had been doing all day. Tossing off his shirt with a long groan. The stretch to his arms made him feel stiffer. Attempting to roll his shoulders back trying to relieve the soreness his tendons. Leon was fed up with everything. The only target he had on his mind now was you, his girlfriend.
When Leon creeped into your shared home, he kept his footsteps light and the lights off. You had been feeling sick lately, Leon had took note on his way back to be quiet as to not disturb you. Taking his shoes off at the door while his jacket was tossed onto the couch. Letting out the occasional muffled groan. He silently made his way through the shared home, darting his eyes around here and there. Leon tended to be paranoid when coming home, always worried something may have happened to you.
Creaking the door open, poking his head inside, he sees your silhouette, your head resting against your pillow, body rising and falling. He couldn’t see your face but Leon was sure you looked beautiful. His foot steps carried on into the bathroom, deciding to take a quick shower so you didn’t have to deal with the smell of death and ruin the sheets. Leon used a generous amount of everything. He was a bit of a clean freak now, he couldn’t handle being home and being covered in blood, dirt and grime.
Once Leon wrapped up his shower, getting dressed and into bed, he pulled you close to his body. His warmth enveloping you in between his arms. Leon’s chest rested against your back, providing a sturdy structure to push yourself into. Leon would burn the world down for you if it meant putting a smile on your face. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make sure he got home to you.
Sometimes, Leon would have rough nights, where he would have vivid nightmares of Raccoon City. The personal hell he felt was made just for him. He would clench his arms around you, pulling you closer to brace around. You were always there to sooth him. Reminding him that, that was years ago and not to worry. You wouldn’t allow him to let these things beat him up. He was so sweet with you and you always repaid the favor, whether he ask it or not, and he never did but he was thankful when you did.
Feeling his eyelids get heavier, Leon welcomes the sleep into his system. Dreams of you and a peaceful future played as he slept. It was nice to be home after so long and he couldn’t be happier now.
warning: kinda of suggestive (I don’t write smut), love dove Leon.
Request was this one
Author notes: I just loved to write this! I was at work when I wrote it, it was supposed to be posted earlier, but I couldn’t post sooo I’m posting now.
Request are open
“How can you not notice these things?” You ask Leon with your arms crossed. You were sitting on the soft chair across from his desk in the comfortable office he has at the DSO, founder and veteran privileges.
“Notice what, love?” Leon asks, oblivious, while flipping through some mission report papers to understand an investigation.
You stand up. “Leon! I’m talking to you, you know?”
“Leon?” Now he has your attention. He looks at you over his reading glasses with one eyebrow raised.
“Now you’re giving me attention?” You give him the same look, and he shakes his head with a crooked smile on his lips, tossing the papers onto his desk.
“I’m all ears, love.” He crosses his arms while looking at you. For a moment, you felt small under his gaze; those ice-blue irises had a very intense effect on you even after years together.
“I… Urg! That’s horrible! Leon! When you look at me like that, it seems like…” you sigh and try to say it.
“Stop calling me Leon.” He lets out a small grunt, taking off his reading glasses, and slowly walks toward you, like a predator cornering his prey. “Seems like what? Huh?”
“That I’m being petulant and jealous.” You say and place a hand on your forehead.
He looks at you without understanding anything. Did he even listen to you complain?
“What are you talking about?” He frowns and gently places a hand on your waist, pulling you firmly against him and making your chests collide.
“Lee…” your hands hold his shoulders like an anchor.
“Finally.” He smiles victoriously. “What happened? I wasn’t paying attention to my gorgeous wife, I’m sorry… work is killing me.”
Suddenly, you feel guilty for worrying so much about what people say about your husband in the DSO complex. The young girls from administration, who possibly never even had a present father, drooled over Leon. It bothered you, more than you wanted to admit.
“When you’re away… or even when you’re here…” you look into his eyes, the ones that give you all of his attention. “But the women in this department, and I dare say in the entire complex, seem to enter an instant fertile period when you just walk by.”
You finish your sentence and Leon laughs. A lovely laugh that you end up joining.
“Don’t laugh!” You say while laughing with him, and his hands squeeze you affectionately against him. Leon lets you finish speaking.
“They flirt with you… they whisper things in the hallways when you walk by.” You say with a hint of anger in every word.
“I think I’m being harassed and I’m not even noticing.” He laughs again, but notices that this time you don’t laugh. “Does it bother you that much?…”
Leon runs the tip of that perfect nose along your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you a pleasant shiver through your body.
“A lot…” his stubble scratches against your neck.
“How much?” He plants a dangerous kiss on your neck, pulling a small tremor from your body.
“Too much.” Your hand is already on the back of his neck.
“You know I don’t care, right?” He says after planting a wet kiss below your ear.
“But I do…” you feel Leon smile against your neck.
He looks at you now, with a shameless smile on his face. Leon devours your lips. You lose yourself in Leon’s soft, full lips. His tongue is agile against yours; his kiss brings you security, love, comfort, and certainty. No one matters except you.
Leon bites your lower lip, leaving it swollen and pulling a moan from you. “Who keeps doing that?”
“An internal agent… and three others whose names I don’t even want to know. Two of them are rookies you trained.” You say, and he nods, returning to kissing you.
Leon’s hands squeeze all the right places, pulling more moans from you.
“Lee… we can’t, not here…” you say softly between your husband’s kisses.
“I don’t care.” He opens your button-up shirt with a quick movement, making the buttons fly everywhere.
“Lee!” You complain, and he finishes tearing it off, throwing it somewhere in that room. “You don’t—”
He cuts you off with a kiss. Leon’s hands move to your breasts, gently squeezing it and making you shiver and let out a high-pitched moan.
“Keep your voice down… or don’t.” He whispers between your lips with a mischievous smile. “Let them hear.”
Leon’s hands move to the clasp of your bra to open it. “We’re not doing this here.” You try to protest.
“Why not?” He frowns for a second, with a mischievous smile still on those lips. “Scared you’ll like it?”
Your bra had already been on the floor for several seconds. Leon’s hands were already on more sensitive parts of you. You could no longer hold back your small sounds.
“Mark your territory, love.” He says in your ear. “Everything I see is only you.”
☆Hi!! this is my take on the zombie!leon AU inspired by quackysprouts' art that was floating around, this is being stemmed from a fake scenario on how my oc had come to meet this Leon. also this started off kinda serious but then i js couldn't hold my silly by the end.
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"Also..Be sure to say hi to Leon for me."
Marvin's words sat at the back of your head as you ventured back from the west wing to gather more supplies before even attempting to locate one of the other medallions for that statue in order to escape this place. Seriously, You're sure the person who built this place probably thought they were so smart for that one.
But.. back to Leon? You were sure it was just another officer Marvin just didn't have it in him to put down, so you put it upon yourself to do the job instead. You saw the welcome sign in the west office earlier on when you got your hands on one skeleton key. Seeing that really put you in the lieutenants shoes though, who would have the courage to take down a newly recruited rookie? Who was now a newly turned zombie?
Poor guy. He must've been so scared and alone during his final moments..
You make it back to the Main Hall, sparing your friend a hesitant look before making it up the stairs to the library, where the lion statue awaited. You open the door quietly, having thought of a stealthy plan to get to the lounge. Said plan backfired when you opened the door wider, only for it to let out only the loudest creak ever.
That caught the pair of two, no, three pairs of eyes and before you knew it, you were booking it to the lounge with maybe four zombies now on your ass. You slam the door behind you, muffling the groans coming from the other side. There were a few kicks to the door and something in you knew that it wouldn't hold for long, so you had to be quick.
Hastily, you took out Elliot's notebook containing the code for the lion. Your hands fumbled with the first two dials a bit before getting to the final one, only to have your current worst nightmare of a scenario occur at that untimely moment. The door's hinges gave out and the door came down, a zombie falling with it. The rest of those zombies made way like they were dying, or well, already dead, to eat you!
You shot two in their heads, and the next in their leg. You stabbed them in the eye instead of shooting to preserve ammo while another lunged at you, you used the knife on their neck, which didn't stop them or slow them down much, but they got close enough you were able to shoot it in the mouth, though it caused some blood to splatter on your face. You pushed its corpse away and turned back around to the lion once you were sure all of them were dead for good.
The door way was wide open now but you didn't hear the light shuffling of shoes behind you, instead you were busy marvelling at the second medallion you've successfully secured. You turned back around, a smug smile on your face that quickly disappeared when you laid eyes on another zombie, one in full R.P.D attire and vest near the opening in the wall where the door use to be.
You immediately went to put away your prize and take out your gun from its holster and point it at his face..but you did notice something that made you hesitate. In the time it took you to react and reach for the gun while simultaneously pocketing the medallion, he didn't move a step.
Sure you've seen of slow ones before, but this is..slow. No, he didn't even move after you just stood there with your gun out. He just stared. Or you think he was with those white glazed over pupils.
"uhh hi? you gonna come at me now or..?" You muttered before your shoulders softened just a bit, you tilted your head to get a better look of him without your gun blocking the view.
Your eyes widen when you look over and see him..imitating what you did? He slowly tilted his in the same direction as you and let out a small groan almost as if he were questioning what you two were doing. You two stayed like that for what must've been a good minute or two until you came to the incredulous conclusion he wasn't gonna try anything.
But come on, he was a zombie. "You think you're so smart, huh? The pretending like you're not hungry act isn't as convincing as you think" Even still, you swallow down your fear and roll your shoulders and aim your gun high again before you slowly walked towards and around him making sure to not stumble on one of the corpses on the ground. The entire time he kept on staring at you like you were the most fascinating thing he's come across after being trapped in the library with those good-for-nothing boring zombies.
He turned around to see you leaving with your back facing the threshold still eyeing him, which on your part was a grave mistake because it's then you heard it, a loud growl from behind you and felt the bruising pressure of two hands on either one of your shoulders and one hot disgusting breath of air fanned the side of your face. You let out a sharp cry at the grip, stupidly dropping your gun in the process.
You resorted to bending over and trying to roll the guy off your back but it was no use "hell- get Off-ugh!-off me!" It was then you saw from your peripheral, the one with the staring issue make way towards you too. Oh, it was a team effort? Just great, so this is how you were gonna die, Eiffel-towered between two zombies. Fuck, even now you're cracking jokes!?
You close your eyes and let out a deep breath waiting for the moment you feel one of their mouths on your neck. And to think, you didn't even get to say hi to that Leon either. You're bracing for the bite, eyes screwed shut still leaning forwards in an awkward way. But instead of feeling the pain near your neck, you feel it all over your body as you were sent face-first tumbling down on to the floor. You used the time to flip around and grab the knife in your shoe.
But you faltered in your movements when you saw that the zombie cop from earlier was already halfway done eating through the one you'd assume was the zombie who was planning to hit it from the back.
You quickly got up while he pushed that zombie's body near the rest of its friends you took out earlier. He picked up the gun you dropped off the ground and started towards you and held up the gun almost knocking you in the face with it in the process.
"Not acting. Got it.." You still somewhat reluctantly take the gun before deciding to put it back in its holster. Still eyeing the now even more bloodied up cop. You make out the marks of a bite underneath his collar on the right side of his neck and you couldn't help but feel a little bad for how you treated him earlier.
It wasn't until later on when you'd eventually partnered up with him and made your way back to the west office, this time with the code for the safe in there, you'd found a file on Leon in one of the the evidence room desk drawers while scrounging for more supplies. You quickly realised the admittedly cute guy in the file was the same cute zombie you had befriended. It had you tearing up more than you'll ever admit to anyone while Leon just stared at you with the same indifferent look plastered on his face.
----------
wowie.. i really love zombie leon he's the cutest ever.
fully nude beefcake leon laying his full weight on top of you after sex while he recovers and he smells like sweat and you fall asleep underneath him even though you kinda can't breathe because he's built like a brick wall send tweet
“she told you she celibate, she told me i can nail her shit.”
leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
cw: mdni ! smut, loud sex, kind of rough sex, riding, lowkey fwb, mating press, uhh jealousy if that counts, kissing, lots of pet names (girly, princess, i think i out sweetheart in there), NOT PROOFREAD!!
a/n: based off that one sound on tiktok bc i keep seeing edits 🥹 also high key reminds of heated rivalry “scott hunter is right next door…” LMFAO hope u enjoy!!
Leon hates these stupid work parties. Banquets that could’ve been an email, award ceremonies with medals and badges he would’ve preferred to see in the mail. It’s not like he’s antisocial, he likes to hang out with the people he works with, but a night in a stuffy suit and endless conversations is almost worse than a mission.
Don’t get him started on the plus one bullshit. He simply doesn't have time or patience for a partner, much less at these godforsaken events. He usually goes alone and regretfully suffers the teasing comments—“Oh, alone again Kennedy? No girlfriend this time?”
His only saving grace is you, another agent who he works with on his rare duo missions. You’re just about the only other single person in the entirety of the DSO—that’s what it feels like. Sometimes, you two will sit at events and roll your eyes at people showing off their partners. Then an awkward silence after of a silent agreement ‘cause you both know you’re just envious.
“Do you think we can call in sick?” Leon sighs as you both sit in your hotel room before you have to leave for an event. This ceremony thingy-bullshit is a bigger, more nationwide one that your boss sent you both to. One room, but two beds, at least. Cheapskates knew you didn’t have significant others and didn’t bother with privacy.
“I mean, prolly… but we lowkey might get flamed,” you reply. He leans against the doorway of the bathroom as he watches you do your makeup. The pretty, long dress you have on is a far cry from the tactical gear he usually pairs you with. Both looks are hot as hell, he definitely can’t deny that. He’ll just tuck that secret in his pocket for now.
“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can show up and leave as quick as possible,” he says as he checks his watch and pretends as if he didn’t just try to check you out. Not that it would be the first time.
Extremely unfortunately, you make it to the event, dreading every click of your heels against the marbled floors as you step inside. This one’s clearly expensive and fancy—that’s worse. The bar quickly becomes Leon’s victim. He lets you know he’ll get you a drink while you find them a spot at a table with an easy escape.
Well, he didn’t really expect to come back and find some guy hitting on you. He’s more curious than annoyed, but it’s there. This guy has the audacity to hit on a girl like you?
“Really? They flew you all the way out here, huh? So you’re pretty special,” this idiot smirks, thinking his blinding white teeth are gonna win you over. Leon can tell you’re irritated.
“Sure, you could say that,” you reply with pursed lips and your best disinterested voice. Your gaze shifts briefly to Leon standing behind him who looks amused. You’re only taking note of your drink that he’s holding.
“Well, special lady, would you maybe like to go to dinner with me somewhere more… private?” He lowers his tone leaning in a little, thinking he’s smooth as hell.
“Uh… no, y’know my schedule’s kinda full…” you shake your head, using that very obvious rejection tone. If he hasn’t taken the hint already, he has to take it now, right?
“Okay, no date. Maybe just uh… a night together?”
Nope. You were stupid to think a man would ever take a hint.
His tone makes it obvious what he’s asking, he wants his head under your dress. He says it like he knows you’ll say yes.
“Oh, I’m celibate, actually,” you smile tersely. He gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you.
“Really? A pretty girl like you isn’t interested in sex?” He raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer as if that’s gonna fix your supposed virginity. “I find that hard to believe, sweetheart.”
“Ah, too bad. Really sucks when not every living female wants to fuck you, huh?” You can’t help but mock, returning the raised brow. “Afraid it’s just gonna be you and your fist tonight.”
He scoffs, trying not to look as offended as he clearly feels. He finally seems to take the hint. “God, some special lady you are,” he grumbles, pushing off the chair he was leaning on and giving you a look before disappearing.
“Celibate? Really?” Leon chuckles when he finally gets to talk to you again, holding out a glass of wine for you. He knows first hand that you're just about the opposite of celibate. You’ve been out drinking together multiple times… one thing leads to another.
“Just a white lie, cant hurt,” you shrug with equal amusement. You finally sit down at your carefully scouted table right next to the exit for a quick, uninterrupted escape.
The rest of the night is as boring as you expected, but a couple more glasses of wine gets you through it. The millisecond you receive your awards—some bullshit that you don’t even think needs to be awarded—you and Leon are out of there. You’ve never been more happy to see your hotel room.
Taking your time undressing and relaxing for a while, eventually you turn in for sleep. You’re even wearing your cute silky set, all curled up under the sheets. And clutching them tightly. It’s literally freezing.
“Mmh, Leon…” you mumble, trying desperately to warm yourself up. You look over your shoulder at his bare back turned to you on the other side of the room. When did he take his shirt off? “Are you awake?”
After hearing a quiet grunt, you continue. “Are you cold? I’m freezing.”
“No. ‘S hot as hell,” he grumbles. He waits for you to say something else, and just as he’s about to offer you all his sheets, he hears shuffling from your bed. A moment later, he feels the mattress dip behind him and turns over to see you kneeling on the bed and inviting yourself in.
“Y’don’t mind if we cuddle?” You murmur, slipping under the covers. He swallows as he sees your cute pajamas with the lace and he can already tell this isn’t gonna end with just cuddling. He wordlessly opens his arms up for you, wrapping them around you when you make yourself the little spoon.
He makes sure the sheets are pulled up over your shoulders, rubbing your arms and thighs underneath to try to warm you up. “Still cold?”
Well, not really. You're very hot now, actually, but you nod your head, mumbling yes.
“Want me to warm you up another way?” Leon offers, his voice quiet and rough in that way that sends a shiver down your spine. He rubs his nose against your neck, fingers brushing up under your shirt. How are you supposed to resist?
“Yeah,” you nod against the pillow, squirming slightly as he rubs your side—ticklish little thing. You help shift your legs as he pushes your shorts and panties down.
“There you go. I got you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the inside of your thigh. He kisses the side of your neck as his fingers part your soft curls to get to your pussy. You can feel him smirk against your skin when he feels how wet you are.
“Doesn’t feel very cold to me,” his warm digits spread your slick around, finding your clit with ease and gently circling it with his middle finger. You whine quietly, hands grabbing his forearm that’s around your waist.
You’re snug but not tight around his fingers, easily dipping them in your wet cunt and spreading you open. He shifts, almost draping himself over you to “keep you warm” as he fingers your needy little pussy and gets you nice and ready for him.
“Oh, Leon, right there,” you whisper into the pillow as he makes sure the heel of his hand is rubbing against your clit as he adds a third finger. Your hips lightly rock against his palm, your brows pulled into that soft crease that makes you look fucking adorable.
“Look at you, going around telling people you’re abstinent and yet you’re crawling into my arms,” Leon teases gently, curling his fingers in a slow, languid way that makes your spine straighten and your breath catch.
Just as you’re mumbling about getting close and about to cum, he takes his hand away with a kiss to your shoulder beside the strap of your top. You whine, but he turns you around in his arms with one of those dumb smirks.
“C’mon, girly, you’re on top tonight. Show me how celibate you claim you are, hm?” He taunts, bringing you with him as he rolls into his back, big hands on your soft hips.
“Ugh, how did I let you talk me into this? Didn’t we say we’d stop after last time?” You complain as you settle your hands on his bare chest, your naked hips lazily grinding against the tent in his pajama pants.
“We both know we can’t stop. ‘Sides, I barely talked to you, just tried to warm you up,” he grunts as you start dry humping him, rough hands sliding down your scarred thighs. Rubs his thumbs over the small, raised lines before giving you a light slap on the ass.
“Get going, princess. You’re slow,” he says with fake impatience, staring up at you with that cheesy smirk. You roll your eyes but start to pull down his sweats and boxers anyway.
Your hips shift restlessly with need as you grip his hard cock, giving it a couple light strokes before positioning yourself above him. With your eyes on your movements, you hold him still as you slowly sink down on him with a low, gravelly moan.
“Mmh—fuck, there you go. Hug me so nice,” he sighs with a grunt of your name as he watches you. You sit there on his cock, looking up at him expectantly. This is usually the part where he takes over again and holds you hips while he thrusts up into you.
He simply returns the look. Asshole. What happened to chivalry?
You sigh dramatically, your knees on either side of his waist as you find leverage with your hands behind you on his hard, strong thighs. You don’t usually do this part.
You suck in a breath, lifting yourself up a bit, and then back down with a soft moan. Up and down, up and down, grinding softly against him and keeping eye contact.
But it’s just not the same! Even as you keep up a nice rhythm, your soft moans getting louder and your grip getting tighter, he’s not deep enough. Not hitting the spots he usually gets.
“Leon, c’mon… it’s better when you do it,” you sigh as your hands come back to the front, tracing his abs as you do your damn best riding his cock. He simply stares, amused as his hands rub up and down your thighs.
“…Leon,” you say more firmly this time, hoping you can chastise him into fucking you. It doesn’t work, and you’re getting impatient. You groan dramatically, circling your hips as you lock your eyes on his. “Leon, just fuck me already! Fuck me hard!”
He can’t help but laugh. It gets him going to see you all frustrated, as much as he hates it when you’re anything but happy. Anyway, who’s he to deny you? His hands slides up to your hips, pausing to grope your ass before firmly planting themselves above your thighs.
“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before lifting you up and then pulling you back down to meet his thrust. A moan slips from both of you this time as your fingers dig into his bare chest.
“Mmh, fuck yeah Leon,” you groan, leaning back so you can see his face a bit better. Not for long, ‘cause then he pounds into you hard enough to pull out a high-pitched whine and make you throw your head back with pleasure,
“God, fuckin’ love that, don’t you? You can’t even ride me properly. Always need my help,” he grunts as his hips jump to meet yours every single time. He always scolds you in that sickly sweet voice that has your pussy dripping.
“Oh—mph! Right there—yeah, nail my shit, just like that,” you say breathlessly, your head dropping to his chest as one of your hands snakes beneath you to find your clit. A half moan-half growl slips from your lips as your back arches deliciously, teetering right on the edge.
“Jesus, cumming already? Needed it bad, did you?” He murmurs as he trails gentle, contradicting kisses compared to his rough thrusts against your shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”
It’s hard to hear his words over the squeaking of the bed and your own moans. Almost forgot you were in a hotel—no, you definitely did forget. That’s not what’s crossing your mind right now, though. You’re too busy crossing the finish line. Moaning his name, your fingers still on your clit as i grinds up into you to help you ride it out.
“That’s it, girly. Good girl,” Leon mumbles in your ears, rolling your hips against his pelvis. Once he’s decided you've had enough rest, he gently manhandles you onto your back, quickly pushing your legs up and squishing your knees against your tits as he gets right back to work.
His hands grip the backs of your thighs, his fingertips denting into the plush skin as he pounds into your pussy. His voice leaves him in harsh grunts and satisfied groans, his gaze fixed on his cock coming in and out of your soft cunt.
“Y-Y’know… how much it pissed me off… when that guy was flirting with you?” Leon grunts through gritted teeth, almost like he was trying to keep it back.
“Fuck… yeah?” You question through your sex haze. You guys don’t really talk about other people, or your feelings. Especially not towards each other. So to have him essentially admit that he’s jealous.
“Yeah, princess. Couldn’t believe he thought he had a chance with… you,” his words come out a little slurred—he always talks too much when he gets close. You whine softly, the jealousy woven in his voice making your insides quiver.
His hands grip tighter on your thighs, not enough to bruise but definitely no less than firm. He leans over you a bit, putting a little more of his weight on top of you as he fucks you harder. He barely manages to remember he didn’t use a condom, whining pathetically as he uses all the forces of his self restraint to pull out.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he whispers under his breath, one big hand pushing your thighs together as he strokes himself with the other. You make sure you’ve got a front row seat to see his brows furrowed and your name falling helplessly from his lips.
Leon moans your name, his head falling back as he finally pours his hot, sticky cum all over the backs of your thighs. Rope after rope lands on the soft flesh, making him moans a little more as he squeezes as much as he can out of the tip. You look so pretty like that, he’d take a picture if he knew you wouldn’t kill him.
”Oh god… so perfect, sweetie. Did so well,” he mumbles lazily stroking himself a little longer before letting go. He smears a bit of jizz across your skin before bringing his thumb up to your mouth, letting you lick it off.
It takes a moment to rest with his thighs feeling like they’re in fire, but eventually he page your hip and gets up. He finds a small towel in the bathroom and runs it under warm water to come clean you up. Once you have everything you need, he puts your panties back in and double checks that you're nice and cozy as his little spoon after a very abstinent night.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The light wakes you up in the morning, streaming in through the thin curtains. You grumble, waking up and shaking Leon’s shoulder awake soon after. He kisses you and says thanks for last night, before the two of you return to your “normal friendly mission partners” routine.
Just as Leon closes the door behind you, about to head out to go home, you glance over at the sound of the persom in the next room over leaving as well.
The last thing you expected was to lock eyes with the man who tried to hit on you at the event, looking tired as hell, as if he didn’t get any sleep.
“…you didn’t sound very celibate to me.”
a/n: hi hope u enjoyed!! any notes always super duper appreciated 🙌
Synopsis: Waking up in one of your favorite shows is a dream come true— even if there are zombies everywhere. Hey, at least they don’t seem to notice you AND you found an old Walkman with a ton of tapes!
WC: 2.2k
TW: vague walker description
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Your lungs burned.
The feeling struck somewhere between your fifth and fiftieth glance over your shoulder. Time had become meaningless the moment you started running. Every thought had narrowed into a single desperate objective: put as much distance between yourself and the walkers as physically possible.
The problem was that your body had never received the memo.
You weren’t Rick, or Daryl, or Glenn, or Michonne, or any other badass main character from the show.
You weren’t even one of the background survivors who somehow managed to sprint across forests every other episode without collapsing from exhaustion.
You were a person who had spent most of the evening curled up beneath a blanket with a bowl of popcorn.
The difference was becoming painfully apparent.
Your legs felt like lead. Each step jarred through your knees and hips. Dry grass slapped against your calves as you stumbled through the field, desperately trying to maintain a pace that your body was increasingly unwilling to provide.
A stitch had developed in your side ten minutes ago. At least, you thought it was ten minutes. It might have been less, it might have been more. Your heart was beating so hard that it felt impossible to judge anything accurately.
The only thing you knew for certain was that you couldn’t keep this up forever.
The thought sent another surge of panic through you.
Because the walkers could.
Walkers didn’t get tired.
They didn’t need water.
They didn’t need sleep.
A human could outrun them for a while, but eventually exhaustion would win.
It always did.
You risked another glance over your shoulder.
The herd remained there.
A sprawling mass of bodies moving steadily across the landscape.
The sight nearly made your stomach drop out through your shoes.
You immediately turned forward again and pushed yourself harder.
Your breathing had become ragged, every inhale scraping against your throat. The afternoon heat only made things worse. Sweat soaked through your clothes and clung uncomfortably to your skin.
The Georgia sun.
Of course it had to be Georgia.
You had never appreciated just how miserable Georgia looked until you found yourself running through it.
A hysterical laugh almost escapes you.
The absurdity of that thought was enough to make you feel slightly unhinged.
You had been transported into a zombie apocalypse.
You were being chased by a herd of the undead.
And somehow your brain had chosen that exact moment to complain about the weather.
Maybe panic was finally frying your remaining brain cells.
The field gradually gave way to a sparse collection of trees. You veered toward them immediately, driven little more than by instinct. Open ground felt dangerous. Trees meant cover.
Not that you had any idea what you were covering yourself from.
The walkers had already seen you.
At least, you assumed they had.
Several of them had been looking directly at you.
The memory alone sent another burst of adrenaline through your veins.
You pushed between two trees and nearly tripped over an exposed root. A startled yelp escaped before you managed to catch yourself.
Your foot slipped.
For one horrifying second, you thought you were going down.
Images flashed through your mind with brutal speed.
You falling.
A broken ankle.
The herd catching up.
Tearing hands.
Rotting teeth.
The end.
Somehow, you regained your balance at the last second and a shaky breath pushed itself from your chest.
“Okay,” you wheezed.
The word sounded more desperate than reassuring.
You forced your legs to keep moving, ignoring the burning that spreads through your body.
Eventually, your body makes the decision for you.
The adrenaline that had fueled your escape could only carry you so far, and it had long since begun to burn itself out. No matter how desperately you tried to force your legs onward, they felt heavier with every step. The stitch from earlier had only worsened, your throat felt raw from panting, and each breath seemed to bring in less air than the one before it.
You staggered toward the nearest tree and braced a hand against the trunk, bending forward as your lungs fought to recover. Sweat dripped from your forehead and into your eyes, stinging enough to make you wince. For a few moments, all you could do was stand there and breathe, focusing entirely on the simple act of remaining upright.
Gradually, the worst of the dizziness began to fade.
The moment it did, panic returned.
The walkers.
Your head snapped up and you immediately regretted the movement when the world tilted slightly beneath your feet. Ignoring the sensation, you turned toward the direction you’d come from and searched for the herd.
They were still there.
The walkers continued their slow march across the countryside, their movements as steady and relentless as ever. The sight alone was enough to send your pulse racing again. Yet as you watched them, something about the scene felt strangely off.
You frowned and squinted into the distance.
The herd wasn’t closing in.
At least, not in the way you had expected.
You had spent the last twenty minutes running as though your life depended on it. Given the amount of noise you’d made, the walkers should have been converging on your location. They should have been drifting toward the sound of your movement and your voice.
Instead, the herd appeared to be following the same general course it had maintained from the beginning.
For a moment, you wondered if exhaustion was clouding your judgement.
A few walkers wandered near the edge of the herd, occasionally turning their heads as though reacting to distant sounds. One of them seemed to look directly toward your position.
You choked on a breath and pressed yourself closer to the tree.
The walker lingered there for a moment, its ruined face angled in your direction, and a familiar surge of fear swept through you. You could practically feel your body preparing to run again.
Then the walker simply turned away.
No lunge.
No sudden burst of movement.
No reaction at all.
It resumed shuffling forward alongside the rest of the herd as though you weren’t standing there.
You stared after it.
Several seconds passed.
Then several more.
Nothing changed.
The herd continued onward, paying no more attention to you than it did to the trees or the grass around it.
Slowly, confusion began to push its way through the panic.
You remained where you were, watching the walkers disappear farther into the distance while your thoughts raced to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. The longer you stood there, the harder it became to ignore the growing inconsistency.
Walkers didn’t behave like this.
You knew that better than most people. You’d spent years watching the show. You knew what attracted them, what distracted them, and what happened when a living person made the mistake of drawing their attention.
A person running across an open field while shouting would have been impossible for them to ignore.
Yet that was exactly what they seemed to be doing.
Your thoughts drifted back to the moment you’d arrived. At the time, sheer terror had overwhelmed everything else. You had seen walkers and immediately focused on escaping them.
Now, with a little distance from that initial panic, details you hadn’t noticed before began to resurface.
The walkers had looked at you, you were certain of that.
Multiple had turned their heads in your direction.
But none of them had changed course, none of them had sped up.
None of them displayed the slightest indication that they viewed you as prey.
For a long minute, you remained exactly where you were.
Your back rested against the tree trunk while the herd continued its slow progress across the countryside, utterly indifferent to your existence. The walkers drifted through the tall grass in loose clusters, occasionally bumping into one another before correcting course and continuing onward. From a distance, they almost looked peaceful.
The illusion vanished the moment you focused on the details.
Sunken faces.
Rotting flesh.
Torn clothing stained with months of dirt and decay.
They were still walkers. Still monsters. Still the same creatures that had spent over a decade terrorizing television audiences and devouring unfortunate survivors.
The fact that they weren’t trying to eat you did little to make the sight less disturbing.
You scrubbed a hand over your face and immediately regretted it when you realized how much sweat had accumulated there. The sun felt relentless. Combined with the panic attack, the sprint across half a field, and the general trauma of being ripped out of reality and dropped into a television series, you felt absolutely miserable.
Your throat was dry.
Your legs ached.
Your entire body felt one minor inconvenience away from simply lying down in the grass and giving up.
The thought was alarmingly tempting.
Unfortunately, dying of dehydration in a field would be a particularly embarrassing way to end your story.
Assuming this was a story.
The uncertainty surrounding your situation continues to gnaw at you. Every now and then, your brain attempted to convince itself that none of this was real. Perhaps you were unconscious somewhere. Maybe this was just an extraordinarily vivid dream.
Then the hot wind would brush against your skin or your aching muscles would remind you of their existence, and the fantasy would crumble.
Dreams weren’t usually this uncomfortable.
Your gaze drifted back toward the herd.
They had moved farther away during your rest.
Not much, just enough that you could feel the distance growing.
You should leave.
The thought returned for what felt like the hundredth time.
You should head in the opposite direction and put as much space between yourself and the undead as possible. Every piece of common sense you possessed agreed with that assessment.
The problem was that common sense wasn’t offering any alternatives.
You were stranded in the middle of rural Georgia with no supplies, no shelter, and no real idea where you were.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
You had a general idea.
You knew you were somewhere in The Walking Dead universe. Unfortunately, that information was significantly less useful than it sounded. Georgia contained a lot of land. Knowing you were somewhere within it didn’t magically provide directions.
You could wander for days without finding another person.
And if you did find another person…
You grimaced.
Not everyone would be as kind as the main cast.
One of the first lessons The Walking Dead taught its audience was that other survivors were often more dangerous than the walkers. Given the choice between encountering a random stranger and encountering a random walker, you weren’t entirely sure which option was supposed to be more reassuring.
With a groan, you tilted your head back against the tree.
“Okay,” you muttered. “Let’s think.”
The request was immediately complicated by the fact that panic continued to occupy approximately ninety percent of your brain.
Still, you tried.
The walkers ignored you.
That much appeared undeniable.
You had screamed, run, stumbled, and generally behaved like the worlds least competent survivor. Under normal circumstances, a herd should have torn you apart long ago.
Instead, they had barely acknowledged your existence.
The implications of that were bizarre enough to deserve their own breakdown later.
For now, the important part was that the walkers didn’t seem dangerous to you.
At least not directly.
The thought lingered for longer than it should.
Slowly, a deeply questionable idea began to form.
The more you considered the possibility, the worse it sounded…
Which, unfortunately, didn’t make it any less practical.
“No.”
You shook your head fervently, almost in an attempt to shake the thought away.
Absolutely not, that was insane! The sort of decision made by horror movie extras moments before their untimely deaths!
But…
The walkers ignored you. Better yet, everyone else feared them.
Large herds acted like moving exclusion zones. Survivors avoided them whenever possible. Nobody willingly approached hundreds of walkers— not unless they had a death wish.
Which meant the herd offered something surprisingly valuable.
Privacy.
Protection.
A giant warning sign visible from miles away.
You briefly imagined approaching another survivor alone. The image was not encouraging.
For all you knew, they could rob you, kill you, or do something that was far worse.
The herd, on the other hand, was predictable.
Terrifying, rotting, horrifying…
But predictable.
You knew exactly where they would be, how they would behave, and for reasons beyond your comprehension, they wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.
It was still an unbelievably terrible idea.
You swallowed thickly before pushing yourself away from the tree.
Every muscle immediately complained— you ignored them.
The herd continued their funeral procession through the field.
You stared at the sea of rotting corpses stretching across the landscape and wondered if you had finally lost your mind.
That honestly felt like the most reasonable explanation.
Then, with all the enthusiasm of someone volunteering for their own execution, you started after them.
You kept your distance at first, staying far enough back that you could convince yourself you weren’t actually walking alongside a herd of the undead. The distinction was largely meaningless, but your rapidly deteriorating sanity appreciated the effort.
Walking after the herd, one single thought bounced around your head:
Synopsis: Waking up in one of your favorite shows is a dream come true— even if there are zombies everywhere. Hey, at least they don’t seem to notice you AND you found an old Walkman with a ton of tapes!
WC: 1.8k
TW: brief walker description
The rain had been falling for hours.
Distant thunder rumbles as water continues to pelt against your windows, turning them into mirrors that reflect the warm glow of the living room back at you. Every now and then, headlights from passing cars streaked across the glass, brief flashes of white and red before disappearing into the wet darkness outside.
It was the perfect weather for lazing about inside.
You were curled up on one end of the couch, wrapped tightly in your favorite blanket until only your head remained visible. The blanket had long since trapped your body heat, turning the little nest you’d created into a cocoon of warmth that made the thought of standing up feel genuinely offensive.
A half-finished bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table within easy reach. Beside it rested a large cup of soda, beads of condensation slowly sliding down the plastic. The open bag of Reese’s Pieces was tucked against your hip, forgotten for the moment as your attention remained fixed on the television.
The familiar opening theme of The Walking Dead echoed softly through the apartment.
Again.
At this point, you couldn’t even pretend this rewatch hadn’t been planned.
You had intended to watch a single episode, maybe two at the most.
Instead, several hours had vanished without your notice.
The second season had always been one of your favorites. It wasn’t the most action-packed season, and it certainly wasn’t the fastest, but there was something about Hershel’s farm that kept drawing you back. Maybe it was the temporary illusion of safety, or maybe it was the way the characters still had enough hope left to believe things might eventually get better.
Or maybe you were just nostalgic.
Either way, you had found yourself back here yet again.
You watched as the survivors argued on-screen, already knowing exactly how every conversation would end. Every reveal, every betrayal, every death had been permanently etched into your memory years ago.
That didn’t stop you from watching with rapt attention.
When a character made a terrible decision, you rolled your eyes.
When someone said something hypocritical, you immediately called them out despite being completely alone.
When one of your favorite scenes appeared, you found yourself smiling before it had even properly begun.
There was something deeply comforting about knowing what would happen next.
Life rarely offered that luxury.
Stories did.
The episode continued to play while rain tapped gently against the windows and the occasional crackles of lighting lit the room up in bright spurts. Time slipped by unnoticed. One handful of popcorn became another. Then another. Somewhere along the way, the candy bag grew lighter.
By the time the credits rolled, you were surprised to discover the popcorn bowl was nearly empty.
You leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, intending to turn the television off.
Instead, your thumb hovered over the button.
The next episode was already loading.
You stared at the countdown.
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
“I should go to bed…”
The empty apartment failed to offer an opinion.
Two.
One.
The episode started.
You sighed dramatically and settled deeper into the couch.
“One more.”
A promise neither you nor the universe believed as the opening scenes began to play. The farm was gone and the group was on the road.
Lost.
Exhausted.
Surrounded by an endless world of death.
You watched the familiar images unfold while absentmindedly reaching for your bag of candy. Your fingers dipped into the bag and camp up empty.
Frowning, you peered inside.
Nothing.
You blinked.
Hadn’t there been half a bag left?
The realization made a laugh bubble up in your throat.
Apparently not.
Setting the empty bag aside, you stretched beneath the blanket. Your shoulders popped pleasantly. The warmth around you seemed to double the moment you relaxed.
You glanced toward the kitchen, the microwave clock catching your attention.
11:47 PM.
Later than expected but not surprising.
The rain continued pouring outside while the TV cast flickering light across the room.
Everything felt peaceful.
Safe.
For a moment, you simply sat there and enjoyed it. A yawn escaped before you could stop it, causing your eyes to water. The characters on-screen continued their journey down an abandoned road while you fought off a second yawn.
You were losing.
Badly.
The sounds of the episode gradually blended together with the rain. The groans of distant walkers mixed with the hum of the refrigerator. The steady rhythm of dialogue became harder to follow as your attention drifted.
Your eyelids felt heavier with every passing minute.
You blinked once.
Twice.
The television seemed strangely bright when you opened your eyes again.
The image on-screen had shifted to a massive herd of walkers moving together through the countryside.
Something felt… off.
You blinked a few times, trying to clear the lingering haze from your mind.
The herd was still crossing the screen. Hundreds of walkers shuffled together beneath an endless blue sky, moving with the same relentless pace that had made them so unsettling all those years ago. It should have looked familiar. You had seen the episode countless times.
Instead, you found yourself frowning.
The image looked unusually sharp, noticeably lacking the visible grain that was present in the early season.
The sunlight looked brighter.
The details seemed clearer somehow.
You shifted beneath your blanket, intending to sit up a little straighter, only to pause when something hot brushed against your face.
Hot?
That wasn’t right.
Your apartment was comfortably warm, but not hot. Certainly not hot enough for sunlight to feel like it was resting directly on your skin.
Slowly, you became aware of other sensations as well. A breeze stirred against your arms. Somewhere nearby, grass rustled softly. The sounds were faint, but distinct enough that they immediately felt out of place.
Confusion began to replace the last remnants of drowsiness.
You blinked again.
The television remained bright.
Too bright.
A knot of unease formed in your stomach.
When you looked upward, expecting to see the familiar ceiling of your apartment, your mind simply stopped.
For one impossible moment, your thoughts went completely blank.
There was no ceiling.
No light fixture.
No apartment.
Above you stretched a vast blue sky unmarred by anything except a few drifting clouds.
You stared at it.
Then stared some more.
Your brain stubbornly refused to make sense of what your eyes were telling it.
That wasn’t possible.
You had been sitting on your couch.
You remembered the weight of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You remembered the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and the candy tucked beside you on the cushions. You remembered the rain tapping against the windows.
You remembered it all with perfect clarity.
So why were you looking at the sky?
A sharp jolt of fear shot through your chest.
You pushed yourself upright so quickly that dizziness washed over you. Instead of sinking into couch cushions, your hands met rough grass and uneven dirt. The texture scraped against your palms, startlingly real beneath your touch.
The sight of it sent your pulse racing.
You scrambled to your feet.
The world spun around you.
A wide field stretched around you, interrupted only by patches of trees and distant hills. There were no buildings. No roads. No signs of civilization. Nothing remotely familiar.
For several seconds, you simply turned in place, searching desperately for something that made sense.
There had to be an explanation.
A prank.
A dream.
A medical emergency.
Anything.
Your breathing quickened as you gaze swept across the landscape again and again. The harder you looked, the worse the panic became. Every direction revealed more of the same empty countryside.
“No…”
The word slipped out before you could stop it.
Your voice sounded wrong in the open air.
Too small.
Too fragile.
You swallowed hard and tried to steady yourself, but your hands had already begun to shake. Reaching into your pocket was almost instinctive. You searched for your phone, hoping for something familiar to anchor yourself to.
Your pocket was empty.
A fresh surge of panic crashed through you.
You checked again, turning it inside out.
Then your other pocket.
Then both a third time, despite knowing how ridiculous it was.
Nothing.
No phone.
No wallet.
No keys.
The realization struck with alarming force. Whatever had happened, you hadn’t simply wandered outside while half asleep. Everything from your life was gone.
You felt your chest tighten.
The beginnings of a panic attack clawed their way upward.
“Help!”
The shout burst from your throat before you consciously decided to call out.
Your voice carried across the field.
No answer came.
You shouted again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
The silence that followed was somehow worse than if no sound had existed at all. It left you along with your racing heartbeat and spiraling thoughts.
Then the wind shifted.
The smell hit you almost instantly.
Rot.
Your stomach lurched.
It was a foul, sickening odor that seemed to coat the back of your throat. Instinctively, you raised a hand to cover your nose, but it did little to help.
The smell only grew stronger.
A chill crawled up your spine.
Something about it felt familiar.
Not because you had ever encountered anything quite like it before, but because your brain had already begun drawing connections that you desperately did not want to acknowledge.
Slowly, you turned toward the source.
The figure emerging from the tall grass looked human at first glance.
At second glance, it looked anything but.
Its movements were wrong. Its skin hung in gray, decaying strips. Part of its face appeared to have collapsed inward, exposing darkened teeth beneath ruined flesh.
A scream caught in your throat.
Every instinct screamed at you to run, yet you remained frozen where you stood.
Because you recognized it.
Not the person.
The creature.
You knew exactly what it was.
A walker.
Years spent watching episodes on your couch. Endless discussion posts online. Character deaths that had left you staring at your television is disbelief.
As though determined to confirm your worst fears, another figure staggered into view behind the first. Then another.
A herd.
A cold wave of dread washed through your entire body.
The possibility that had been lurking at the edge of your thoughts suddenly stepped into the light, impossible to ignore any longer.
The realization shattered whatever composure you had managed to cling to.
Tears stung your eyes. Your breathing became shallow and uneven. Every horrifying memory associated with the series seemed to crash into your mind at once. You remembered the deaths. The starvation. The violence. The countless ways people suffered long before they died.
Most terrifying of all, you knew that unlike the characters, you weren’t written for this world.
You weren’t a survivor.
You were a fan who had been watching from the safety of a couch less than five minutes ago.
And now that safety was gone.
With barely any time to think, you turned on your heels and ran.
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New story, woohoo! Hope y’all liked it!
I’m actually super proud of the banner considering it was first time actually trying to make one 😩
I read something briefly where Daryl rejects reader’s touches cause he has to leave somewhere and I can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities of this scenario could you please write more of reader trying to initiate sex and Daryl rejecting for whatever reason (you can pick the reason and how reader reacts)!
hi anon!! thank you for your request! this isn't very angsty. i can't see daryl as the type to have sex with anyone he isn't with nor the type to rudely dismiss his partner. i hope you still enjoy <3
warnings: sexual themes, implied sex, fluff, established relationship
word count: ~600 set in: prison era
summary: you wake up wanting to spend some quality time with daryl, in bed of course, but he has to go out on a run. dismissing your attempts with him, you spend the day sexually frustrated. although, daryl makes sure to make it up to you when he's back.
TWD Masterlist
You start to wake up, rubbing your eyes as if that’d make seeing this early in the morning easier. You can also feel Daryl sitting up, ready to get out of bed.
“C’mon, what’re you in a rush for?” You hold onto Daryl’s arm and sit up to pepper kisses along his shoulder and jaw.
Still somewhat tired, Daryl puts a hand on your shoulder and lightly pushes you away, “I gotta go on a run, told Glenn I’d go wit’ ‘em.”
“Right now?” It wasn’t often you and Daryl had time to yourselves, so the few times you two did have time for yourselves it was either late at night or early in the morning. You just wanted some time together after waking up feeling needier than usual.
“Yeah “right now,” gotta take advantage of daylight.” Daryl gets up and shrugs his vest on before looking back at you, now laying back down. “C’mon, I’ll be back by tonight.”
“Okay,” you mutter, understanding even though you were frustrated. Not with him, but still. You understand why Daryl had to leave, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting to watch him leave instead of hanging back. It’s not ridiculous to want some time to spend having sex with your boyfriend, is it? Besides, it wasn’t often you woke up like this.
Frustrated or not, you had things to do: helping Rick harvest plants and tend to the garden, completing your own shift on watch, and even helping Carol take care of the kids. It wasn’t long after Daryl left that you decided to just get up and get an early start on the day. Anything to distract you from the worry that always lingers whenever Daryl’s outside the walls and your underlying want for him.
It was a long day’s worth of work and you hadn’t even realized the sun was setting until it was already fully gone. Daryl’s words echo in your head once you realize it’s dark, “C’mon, I’ll be back by tonight.” Right when your worry was about to get the best of you, you hear whoever was currently on watch shout for someone to open the gate, the sound of Daryl’s bike following shortly after.
Whenever Daryl gets back from a run, he always leaves what he got in the makeshift pantry and seeks you out first. Knowing both that he was okay and that he’d come find you soon enough you made your way back to your cell—room (?), you’re still unsure what to call it.
Like clockwork, you take your shoes off and use the tiniest amount of water to “wash” your face before getting into bed. Also like clockwork, Daryl walks in, “Done for the day?”
“Yeah, how was your run?”
“Good,” Daryl places his crossbow next to the bed and takes his shoes off—kicking them off next to yours, an oddly domestic sight now that you think about it—before joining you on the bed.
“Just ‘good’?”
Daryl grunts in acknowledgement and pulls you closer, leaving a hesitant kiss just below your ear. You two have been exclusive for a while, but he still feels unfamiliar with such gentle acts of love.
You turn your head slightly to look at him, giving him an intrigued look. Thankfully, with all the time spent with you, he can read your looks with ease. You’re telling him not to start something he won’t finish right now.
“Told ya I’d be back tonight, didn’ I?”
“You did,” you answer slowly as he kisses you again.
“Gotta make up for leavin’ you frustrated earlier.”
hi guys i'm still experimenting with tumblr banners so if my posts are ugly as shit please lmk im not a graphic design major </3 i have basic canva and a dream (isn't it so stupid you need pro to save transparent backgrounds? i bet the banner looks silly for anyone who isn't using dark mode but we ball!)
anyway thank you sm for all the love of my last few daryl posts!!! my requests are closed for now but hopefully i stay in this writing groove and can crank the rest of them out. drink water!!!
hii! I hope ur taking requests right now cause I have an idea ive been thinking about for a little bit... leon kennedy x gn! reader whos like a master at cooking. like they graduated from culinary collage type. mabye leon is just getting back from a mission, driving in the Porsche back home and hes getting restless cause all he wants to do is eat reader's cooking.
thank u in advance if u make it, but its okay if u dont!! :D
In Time For Supper
relationshop: leon kennedy x gn!reader
tags: fluff. that's it. and cooking, because of course!
a/n: wonderful idea, anon! i got carried away with this one, and it ended up longer than expected cause it was so fun to write lol
wc: 1.5k
5:50 PM- you begin prep. You cut chicken, season it with salt and pepper, and turn the oven on. Chilies, onions, and bell peppers are sliced in ribbons, and spices are gathered in small ramekins.
Around 6:10 or so, the chicken needs to be browned on both sides before you cook the onion and bell pepper. The chicken goes in easy, sizzling to a honey-colored finish, and you move it to a separate pan. You add the bell pepper and onion next, and you watch the vegetables soften in the pan, smooth pieces of orange, red, and white blending under the golden kitchen lights. You give the pan a short toss, admiring the glimmer of how the glistening vegetables jump. The smell of caramelized onions and lemon greets you, and when the toss lands perfectly without a drop of oil on your hand, you continue shifting the veggies in the pan with a professional sort of manner.
Music plays as you work. Sometimes it's something pop-like; other times, an upbeat hip-hop rhythm. But tonight you've decided on something golden, like those same overhead lights, so the melodic tunes of soft jazz pour from the Bluetooth speaker attached to your phone.
The best way into a person's heart is through their stomach, which is a quote you live and die by without questioning. Food has a way of bridging the gap between people, a universal language shared by everyone. You've seen the magic it plays, food- you've seen years of tension between families melt with a dish shared during dinners, seen awkward first dates blossom into marriages because of a dining experience that they couldn't help but bond over, seen things like these happen over and over again, each like a bandage that heals. It was what led you to pursue a culinary degree, to work in kitchens all over the world, each place's cuisine better than the last, and ultimately to Leon.
How you met deserves its own story, you like to say shorthandedly when people ask, but all you find important about it is that you're together now. You both met on the job, you can recall- you were working at Le Procope in Paris, and he happened to be there because of a mission- and while it was a rather awkward initiation phase, complete with growing pains and lots of extended, thoughtful discussions with each other, you both ended up here, and wouldn't have it any other way.
At around 6:30, you've layered the chilies, spices, black beans, cherry tomatoes, rice, and chicken in a skillet, already baking in the oven, and are bringing gnocchi to a boil in a small saucepan when your phone rings and the music halts to a stop, pausing your flow.
You check to see who's calling. Leon.
----
"Good evening," your voice pours from his phone's speakers, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, just peachy," says Leon, and from his phone he can hear the typical sounds of you bustling around the kitchen: pots are being stirred, something sizzling in the pan, music in the background. Even from here, it already loosens the knot that's been building in his chest.
"I'm on my way back now. We finished up here early." This particular mission took way shorter than expected to complete, but even with the early dismissal, he can feel restlessness starting to set in his bones like an itch he can’t scratch. The Porsche's engine is a low growl that thrums a steady tune as he presses the gas pedal, and the scenery outside the car starts to melt into painted blurs of green and brown.
"Oh, that's good," he can hear you murmur, seeming a little distracted. He doesn't have to think that hard to guess that you're probably holding the phone between your shoulder and ear, your hands busy with what unmistakably sounds like dinner prep. "Well, I've got started on supper tonight, if you can't tell already," you say casually, "I'd let you know what I'm working on, but then that'd ruin the surprise."
A truck with bright headlights passes by, and it makes him squint. "I'm sure whatever you're making right now is guaranteed to taste good."
"Well, of course, otherwise you'd be doing all the cooking, God forbid."
Leon has tried to cook with you, or for you, on multiple occasions. Don't get it twisted- he's fairly decent at putting together something that tastes nice, but he can't do it as you do. He can try to recreate the combinations of ingredients, spices, heat, and time you put together into the dish, but somehow it simply doesn't come out the same. You've got him convinced that you can do some kind of magic when it comes to this stuff- you've got the golden ratio of spice assortments filed in your head, or know how things taste without trying it first- either way, he can't help but be impressed. It's just another one of those things that you surprise him with. He can hear the oven beep from your side of the exchange. “Hey, don’t ‘God forbid’ me. I can cook on Friday night. It’ll blow your culinary-school-Michelin-Star mind,” he quips sarcastically.
“Yeeeah, okay. We’ll see about that.” There’s a loud clatter, and he can hear you swear under your breath. “Dropped something. Listen, I’ll call you back, okay? Or actually, no- how close are you to the house right now?”
He checks the GPS on the Porsche’s console screen. Forty minutes. If he tries hard enough, he’s sure he can make it in half that, because jeez, he really is starving. Surviving off of MREs and water for three days does something to a man.
“I’m forty minutes out,” he says. “I can make it in twenty-five, maybe.”
“Unless you have a get out of jail free card after you get your butt thrown into the slammer for going 90 in a 60, then I suggest you cool your jets there, sir,” you warn him carefully. Little do you know, but he’s actually going 110. He’d tell you, just to prove you wrong, but a part of him advises that the earful of scolding isn’t worth it.
He hmms in consideration. “I’ll be as discreet as possible.”
“Discreet, my ass. There’s nothing discreet about driving around in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car that’s also going twice the speed limit.” You pause. “I’m not bailing you out this time, either.”
He shrugs. “I can pay my own bail.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
There’s an incomprehensible string of angry grumbling from your end of the call, and he can’t help but smile a little to himself.
“If you get arrested for speeding, you’ll completely miss dinner,” you point out.
“I guess so,” he concedes.
“Exactly. So don’t be an idiot, and I’ll see you when you get back home,” you say. “Okay, I have to go now because if I keep calling you I’m bound to burn something to a crisp.” He can hear the kitchen faucet turn on. “Okay, love you. Don’t be too late.”
“See you,” he says, and you hang up. The bite of hunger is starting to sink its teeth into him. Yeah, he’s gotta get back already, screw the traffic management system. He can get away with speeding, he’s sure.
It is around seven o’clock when Leon arrives, which means that he absolutely went way over the speed limit on the route back home, much to your dismay, but regardless, he arrives perfectly in time for dinner.
He pulls into the driveway just as you walk outside to greet him, and when you connect the dots to form the conclusion that he indeed did not follow the law on the journey back, you pinch his side with your forefinger and thumb when he pulls you in for a hug. “I told you not to pull that shit again,” you gripe, but there’s no bite behind your words, and you wrap an arm around him.
He kisses the top of your head. “Can’t miss supper,” he says lightly.
He can smell whatever you’ve cooked wafting in through the room. The kitchen is halfway clean; most of the dirty dishes are contained in the sink, the stove is turned off, with a couple of pots still sitting on the burners. He knows he’ll be put on dish duty afterwards, but he doesn’t mind. It’s only fair, anyway.
“Go wash your hands,” you tell him, giving him a light push towards the sink. “Everything’s all set up in the dining room.”
“You got it, boss,” he replies.
When he enters the dining room, you’re already sitting in the chair opposite to him. “Well, don’t be a stranger,” you say, chin resting on your hand, eyes following him as he takes a seat.
You point to a dish filled with chicken, rice, beans, and other things he can’t quite make out. “Skillet chicken with black beans, rice, and chilies.” You point to a smaller container, “gnocchi gratin,” and to a wooden bowl, “And then some arugula salad with lemon vinaigrette.”
“Damn, you didn’t have to make all of this just for dinner,” he says after a second, and like he usually does, he feels a little guilty for not helping with making it, but you tell him the same thing you always say, and it makes him smile every time.
“Yeah, well, you can make it up to me by cleaning up the kitchen.” You push one of the plates toward him. “Now eat.”
here's a snippet anyway bc this shit is cracking me up | snippet of boiling point (king!laios touden x past party member!f!reader) wherein reader overhears the tea on laios who has been MIA since reader arrived | wc: 256, mildly suggestive | divider by @/strangergraphics
After getting dressed and using the handbasin to refresh, you step out into the quiet corridor. Faint voices from behind closed doors. The rustle of your clothes. The crackle of lit sconces. The ever-distant echo of footsteps—a pair of guards, near-silent save the clatter of their armor.
“… I know, the king’s been there all week.” You hear—a feminine voice, soft and unfamiliar, approaching from around the corner, accompanied by two sets of feet padding along the stone.
You press yourself against the wall, straining your hearing. They’re talking about Laios—and you might just get the answers as to where he’s been.
“He’s going to exhaust himself before anything can actually be done,” another voice—a bit deeper, also unfamiliar.
“I wonder if that newcomer has anything to do with it,” the first voice lowers as it nears the intersection of the corridor you’re in.
“I doubt she brought along the attacks,” the second voice counters in a lighthearted tone, “but I have heard her name coming from behind the king’s walls…”
Fire scorches your cheeks and ears, and your heart stammers underneath your chest. The trope of staff gossip mills are true—you’ve spent enough time around housekeepers and kitchen staff to know word travels like lightning—but would they lie about something like that? The image of Laios in his bed, glistening in sweat, the quick-paced bob of something underneath a sheet covering his bottom-half—
“No,” the first gasps, grinning into their voice. “Do tell.”
