Title:A Fight For Survival

Title:A Fight For Survival

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In the desolate wasteland, the abandoned warehouse stood as a grim reminder of the world’s collapse. Its skeletal remains were dimly lit by the weak light seeping through broken windows. The oppressive silence was occasionally broken by distant groans and the shuffle of the undead, signaling the encroaching danger.

Daryl Dixon was slumped against a rusted metal pillar, his face a mask of pain. A severe wound along his side had him barely able to move, his bow resting uselessly on the floor beside him. His breath came in labored gasps as he tried to stay alert despite his injuries. The warehouse had become a trap, overrun by walkers, their guttural growls growing louder with each passing moment.

You, a skilled survivor and his steadfast companion, had been through countless perils together. This time, however, the stakes were higher. Daryl’s injury left him vulnerable, and the threat was imminent. You were determined to protect him. With a deep breath, you readied yourself, gripping a makeshift weapon—a metal shard attached to a sturdy stick.

The first walkers appeared, their groans filling the space with a chilling certainty. Without hesitation, you sprang into action. The clash was immediate and fierce. Each movement was a blend of desperation and precision, your weapon cutting through the encroaching threat. The walkers’ unnatural, jerky motions made them unpredictable, and every successful strike was met with the unsettling sounds of crumbling flesh and bone.

Daryl’s eyes, usually so steely, now held a mix of fear and frustration. He tried to rise, but pain kept him grounded. “Leave,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “Save yourself.” But you weren’t about to abandon him. You pushed through the throng of walkers, defending him with every ounce of strength you had.

Amid the battle, you carved out a temporary safe zone. The weight of your task was immense, each decision a matter of life or death. The relentless walkers seemed to multiply, their numbers overwhelming. Your focus was laser-sharp, every swing of your weapon purposeful and driven by the need to keep Daryl safe.

Slowly, the tide of battle began to shift. The walkers' numbers dwindled, their advance slowing as their bodies accumulated on the floor. You could feel your strength waning, but the sight of fewer walkers gave you renewed energy. With the immediate threat reduced, you hurried back to Daryl’s side.

You knelt beside him, breathless and worn. “We need to get you patched up,” you said, your voice shaky but determined. Daryl looked at you with a mix of gratitude and relief. The battle had forged an unspoken bond between you, a testament to the trust and reliance that had deepened over time.

Carefully, you assisted Daryl to his feet, guiding him through the wreckage of the warehouse. Exhaustion was evident in every step, but the silent understanding between you made the journey bearable. As you reached a safer corner, the immediate danger had passed, leaving a heavy but welcome silence.

In that moment of quiet, the severity of your situation and the strength of your connection became clear. The world outside remained perilous, but together, you had faced another deadly challenge and emerged stronger for it.

Request if you want something different 😊

Title: Echoes of the Past

(Joel miller x platonic!gn!reader)

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The sky was overcast, a blanket of dull gray that seemed fitting for the world they lived in. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a constant reminder of the life they had lost twenty years ago. Joel Miller walked steadily, his eyes scanning the area with a vigilance honed from years of survival. Beside him, you moved just as cautiously, your steps echoing his, a silent testament to the bond formed in the crucible of the apocalypse.

You had known Sarah Miller. The memory of her was a bright spot in the dark chasm of your past, a beacon of innocent days when laughter came easily and the world was wide open. The night the outbreak began, you had been at her house, the two of you staying up late, talking about dreams that now seemed impossibly naive.

The screams, the chaos, the bullets—Sarah's death had shattered you. She had been your best friend, your anchor, and in a cruel twist of fate, you were left adrift. Joel had been there too, his own world destroyed in the span of a heartbeat. Your shared grief had created a connection that neither time nor the harsh realities of the new world could sever.

"Keep an eye out for runners," Joel's voice broke through your reverie, grounding you in the present. You nodded, gripping your weapon a little tighter. The two of you were searching for supplies in an old apartment complex, the remnants of forgotten lives scattered around like leaves in autumn.

The silence was oppressive, filled with the weight of unsaid words. You both worked well together, a seamless partnership forged from necessity and mutual respect. Yet, the specter of Sarah hung between you, a ghost neither of you acknowledged but both felt keenly.

As you moved through the building, your eyes caught sight of a faded photograph on the wall. It was a family picture, the smiles frozen in time, oblivious to the horrors that would come. You paused, your fingers brushing the image gently. It reminded you of Sarah, of the life she had and the future she would never see.

Joel noticed your hesitation and turned to look. His expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. "We need to keep moving," he said gruffly, but there was an undercurrent of understanding in his tone.

You nodded, tearing your gaze away from the photo. "Yeah," you replied softly, following him out of the room. The two of you continued your search, finding a few useful items among the wreckage. As you made your way back to your makeshift camp, the tension eased slightly, the familiar routine providing a semblance of normalcy.

That night, as the fire crackled and the darkness pressed in around you, Joel handed you a small flask. "To Sarah," he said simply. You took it, your throat tightening as you swallowed the burn. "To Sarah," you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy with memories, but it was a shared silence, a moment of understanding and connection. Joel's gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew you weren't alone in your grief. The world had changed, but the bond you shared with him—born of loss and forged in fire—was a constant.

"We'll get through this," Joel said, his voice steady and resolute. "For Sarah."

You nodded, the weight on your chest easing slightly. "For Sarah," you agreed, the words a promise and a prayer. Together, you faced the uncertain future, two souls bound by the past but determined to survive.

In a world gone mad, you found strength in each other. And as long as you remembered Sarah, her memory would be the light that guided you through the darkest of times.

Me every time I see someone telling me not to write angst^

Title:Running Back to You

Pietro maximoff x fem!reader

Got this amazing idea from @faithiegirl01

---

You had been by their side for as long as you could remember. The tiny apartment in Sokovia, with its peeling wallpaper and cramped spaces, was more of a home to you than the one you were born into. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were your family in every sense of the word. Together, the three of you had faced the hardships of a war-torn world, clinging to each other when everything else seemed to fall apart.

Wanda was your sister, not by blood, but by heart. The two of you were inseparable, spending hours giggling over shared secrets and dreams for a better future. You marveled at her growing abilities, feeling a deep bond that went beyond sisterhood. But then there was Pietro—your protector, your constant. With him, there was something different. He was always sweet to you, always looking out for you in ways that made your heart flutter, but you had never really considered what that meant. He was just Pietro, your best friend.

Or so you thought.

Everyone else seemed to see what you couldn’t. Wanda rolled her eyes whenever Pietro would dash ahead to pull you out of the way of some nonexistent danger or when he would bring you flowers he picked at superspeed. She could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his smile softened whenever you were around. It was all so obvious to everyone but the two of you.

The day everything changed was when HYDRA came into your lives. They promised power and a way to fix everything wrong with the world. You, Wanda, and Pietro accepted their offer, driven by desperation and a desire to make things better. The experiments were brutal, and the pain was unimaginable, but you endured it together. Your powers manifested—abilities that allowed you to manipulate energy in ways that were both destructive and beautiful.

But with that power came a price. HYDRA saw you as assets, tools to be used, and you were separated from your friends. They sold you to the highest bidder, and that bidder was none other than Tony Stark. It wasn’t until later that you realized Stark had bought you to save you, to keep you out of HYDRA’s clutches. You fought against him at first, but he and Steve Rogers showed you that your powers could be used for good. They trained you, molded you into something stronger, something better.

But nothing could erase the pain of being torn away from Wanda and Pietro. You missed them every day, wondering if they were still together, if they were safe, if they even thought of you.

Years passed, and you became a valuable member of the Avengers, though your heart was never fully in it. The memories of your time with Wanda and Pietro haunted you, and even in moments of victory, you felt the sting of their absence.

Then, everything changed when the Avengers faced a new threat. You were tasked with infiltrating a HYDRA facility—one that had recently fallen into the hands of new operators who were continuing the terrible work done there. It was a straightforward mission until you saw him.

Pietro.

He was faster than ever, moving through the facility like a blur. Your heart stopped. He was alive. But he was also your enemy now—or so you were supposed to believe. The thought of fighting him was unbearable, yet there was no choice. When you saw him dart towards Clint, your instincts took over, and you intercepted him, using your powers to bring him down.

Pietro hit the ground with a grunt, looking up at you in confusion. His eyes widened as recognition dawned on him. “Y/N?” he whispered, disbelief and hope intertwined in his voice.

“Pietro,” you breathed, your voice trembling. Tears welled in your eyes as you fell to your knees beside him, forgetting the battle raging around you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you—I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Pietro’s expression softened, and he reached out to brush a tear from your cheek. “I never stopped thinking about you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I looked for you everywhere, but they told me you were gone. I should have known you’d find a way back.”

You pulled him into a tight embrace, both of you shaking with the intensity of the moment. It felt like a lifetime since you had been in each other’s arms, and now, with him holding you, everything else seemed to fade away. “We’ll find Wanda,” he promised, his voice strong and sure. “We’ll be together again. I won’t let them take you from me this time.”

When you finally pulled apart, the battle had slowed, and the Avengers were staring at you in confusion. Tony approached cautiously, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “So, are you going to introduce us to your, uh, old friend?”

You let out a soft laugh, wiping your eyes as you stood. “Tony, this is Pietro Maximoff. He’s... he’s the reason I survived HYDRA. Wanda too. You tried to save them along with me all those years ago, but... we got separated.”

Tony’s eyes widened in realization, the pieces finally clicking into place. “Well, damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

You looked back at Pietro, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and sadness. There was still so much to say, so much to do, but for the first time in years, you felt like you were home.

Wanda found you soon after, her face lighting up with pure joy when she saw you. The reunion was emotional, filled with laughter, tears, and promises never to be separated again. Wanda gave you a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but blush. She always knew, even before you did.

As the dust settled and the Avengers regrouped, you realized that the long journey was finally over. You were back where you belonged—by Pietro’s side. And as he squeezed your hand, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

---

**Epilogue**

A few days after the battle, you and Pietro stood together on the balcony of the Avengers Tower, watching the sun set over New York City. The air was warm, and the city buzzed with life below, but here, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet of the moment.

Pietro turned to you, his eyes soft as they met yours. “You know,” he began, his voice low and full of something you couldn’t quite place, “I’ve been running my whole life. But when I’m with you... I finally feel like I can slow down.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. Suddenly, all those moments from your childhood, all the times he had been there for you, flashed through your mind. The way he had always been just a little too protective, a little too sweet. And then, finally, you understood.

You loved him. You had always loved him.

Pietro smiled, as if he could see the realization dawning on your face. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just too scared to say it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were tears of happiness this time. “Me too,” you confessed, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I was so scared of losing you that I didn’t even realize what was right in front of me.”

Pietro leaned down, and your heart raced as his lips met yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It was like coming home, like everything you had been searching for had finally found you. When you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

Wanda’s voice rang out from behind you, her tone full of amusement. “Took you two long enough.”

You both turned to find her leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. Pietro rolled his eyes, but you just laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years.

“Yeah,” Pietro said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. “But at least we got there in the end.”

And as the three of you stood there together, watching the sun dip below the horizon, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them as you always had—together, as a family.

Please work 🥺

Hey! I’d love a one-shot where Hotch is really protective over the reader, who’s been getting some unwanted attention from someone at work. Maybe she’s a bit younger and new to the team, and she’s always been close with Hotch, but lately, he’s noticed that someone’s been making her uncomfortable. I’d love to see how Hotch handles it, especially since he’s been realizing he has feelings for her. Lots of protective Hotch vibes, maybe a little angst, but definitely some fluff and maybe a confession at the end. Thanks so much!

Of course lovely!!

Title: “Shield of Silence”

Pt2

You weren’t sure when it started, but the pit in your stomach had been growing for weeks now. At first, it had just been lingering looks—nothing overtly inappropriate but just enough to make your skin crawl. You’d brush it off, thinking you were imagining things, but the feeling only intensified as time passed. It was like being watched constantly, a gaze that clung to you when you least expected it.

It was your third month with the BAU, and although you were still adjusting, you felt like you’d finally found your place among the team. Spencer had been a wealth of knowledge, always eager to share some obscure fact or statistics. JJ had quickly become like an older sister, guiding you through the maze of FBI procedures and office politics. And then there was Aaron Hotchner—your unit chief, your mentor, and more recently, the person you found yourself gravitating towards the most.

Hotch had been nothing but professional with you, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You admired his leadership, the way he commanded respect without demanding it, and his quiet but unwavering sense of justice. More than once, you’d caught yourself staring at him, wondering what it would be like to cross that line between professional and personal. But you always pushed those thoughts aside—he was your boss, after all.

Lately, however, you found yourself needing his presence more than usual. There was someone on the team who was making you uncomfortable, someone who lingered a little too close, who spoke a little too softly when he was near you. It was subtle—nothing you could report without feeling like you were making a mountain out of a molehill. But you knew it wasn’t just in your head.

The elevator ride that morning had been the final straw. You were alone, checking your phone, when you felt the presence beside you. Your stomach twisted as he moved closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. You stepped away, mumbling an excuse about needing to review a case file, and practically fled to your desk.

It wasn’t until you were safely seated that you noticed Hotch watching you, his brows furrowed with concern. He’d always been perceptive, but this time, his gaze felt like it was peeling back the layers you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Y/N,” his voice was low as he approached you, leaning on the edge of your desk. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety churning in your gut. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Hotch didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If anything’s bothering you, you can always come to me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, grateful for his concern but unwilling to drag him into something that might just be a product of your overactive imagination. “I know, Hotch. Thank you.”

But Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to let things go easily, especially when it came to his team. Later that day, as the team gathered in the conference room for a briefing, you noticed that Hotch had positioned himself closer to you than usual. It was subtle—just a shift in his usual place—but it felt like a protective barrier, a silent assurance that he was there if you needed him.

The meeting went smoothly, but as it wrapped up, the same coworker who’d been making you uncomfortable sidled up beside you, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that made your skin crawl. Before you could step away, Hotch was there, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Y/N, I need you to stay back for a moment. We need to go over the details of the Montgomery case.”

The man beside you stiffened, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch, but he said nothing as he backed away. You watched him leave, your heart pounding in your chest.

When the room was finally empty, Hotch turned to you, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallowed, nodding reluctantly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought maybe I was overreacting.”

Hotch shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not overreacting. If someone’s making you uncomfortable, it’s my job to protect you. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was something in his tone that made your heart ache, a protective edge that spoke of more than just professional duty. “Hotch, I—”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your arm where the other man had touched you. The gesture was tender, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not when I care about you as much as I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’d just said. “You… care about me?”

Hotch’s eyes softened, the usual hardness melting away to reveal something far more vulnerable. “I care about you more than I should, given our positions. But I can’t help it. I need you to be safe, Y/N.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a truth you hadn’t been ready to face. But as you looked into Hotch’s eyes, saw the sincerity there, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crumble.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hand resting on his chest. “I feel the same way,” you admitted softly. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but… I can’t anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid. But then, Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“Let me take care of this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Hotch.”

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that lit up his usually stoic features. “You can call me Aaron, you know.”

Your own smile mirrored his as you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lingering tension. “Okay… Aaron.”

The moment was perfect, the beginning of something new and fragile, but full of promise. As he pulled you into a comforting embrace, you knew that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

Title: Hearts of Fire

Daenerys Targeryen x reader X khal drogo(slightly)

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The air was thick with the scent of blood and incense as the Dothraki gathered in the sacred tent, their voices rising in a cacophony of anticipation. At the center of it all stood Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her violet eyes set with steely determination. Beside her, you stood just as resolute, your fingers intertwined with hers as you both faced the daunting task ahead. This was a ritual meant to prove strength, resilience, and the power of life growing within Daenerys. But the Khaleesi was not alone, for you had bound your fate to hers long before the Dothraki had ever known either of your names.

When Khal Drogo had chosen Daenerys as his Khaleesi, you had been a part of the bargain, an unconventional condition that neither he nor his people had expected. The blood of the dragon burned hot in both of your veins, and your love for each other was as fierce as the flames that had birthed you. Drogo had seen the fire in your eyes, the unwavering loyalty you held for Daenerys, and had accepted the challenge of marrying not just a dragon, but two.

Now, the Dosh Khaleen—the ancient crones who led the ceremony—looked on with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. No other Khaleesi had ever brought her heart-bound to this ritual. But this was not just any Khaleesi, and you were not just any woman.

As the crones brought forth the raw, bleeding heart of the stallion, the murmurs of the Dothraki quieted. The heart was massive, still warm, and the scent of fresh blood filled your nostrils. It was a symbol of the life growing within Daenerys, the life of the stallion who would mount the world. But for you, it was also a symbol of the bond you shared with her, the unbreakable connection that had brought you both to this moment.

Daenerys took a deep breath, her grip on your hand tightening as she stepped forward. You could feel her fear, her determination, and you gave her a reassuring squeeze in return.

"We do this together," you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Together," she repeated, her voice a vow as strong as any oath.

The Dosh Khaleen began their chant, an ancient and haunting melody that echoed through the tent. Daenerys raised the heart to her lips, taking the first bite with a grimace that she quickly hid. The taste was foul, the texture tough and chewy, but she forced herself to chew and swallow, her eyes flicking to you for strength. You stepped closer, your free hand brushing a strand of her hair away from her face as she continued to eat, each bite a struggle.

When the time came for you to join her, you did so without hesitation. The Dothraki watched with bated breath as you bit into the heart, the taste just as revolting as you had imagined. But you didn't falter. The blood of the dragon did not yield. You would not falter.

The ritual was gruesome, the task daunting, but together, you and Daenerys persevered. Bite after bite, the heart began to disappear, the blood staining both your lips and hers, a symbol of the shared strength and love that had brought you to this point.

As the heart was finally consumed, a hush fell over the tent. Daenerys swayed on her feet, but you were there to steady her, your arms wrapping around her waist as she leaned into you, exhausted but victorious. The Dothraki began to chant her name, their voices rising in a roar of approval. The stallion who mounts the world had been proven, and the Khaleesi had shown her strength. But as you held her close, you knew that the real victory was not just hers, but yours as well.

Khal Drogo stepped forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours and Daenerys's. There was a fierce pride in his gaze, a recognition of the bond you both shared. He placed a hand on Daenerys's shoulder, then on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you both possessed.

"You are both my Khaleesi," he declared in his deep, resonant voice, the words carrying a weight that the Dothraki understood. It was unprecedented, a union of three, bound not just by tradition but by love, respect, and fire.

As the ceremony came to an end, the Dothraki began to disperse, their excitement turning to celebration. You and Daenerys remained in the tent, the tension of the ritual finally giving way to relief. She turned to you, her violet eyes softening as she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing away a smear of blood on your cheek.

"You were incredible," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "I couldn't have done this without you."

You smiled, leaning into her touch, your heart swelling with love. "Neither could I, my love."

The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that instant, it didn't matter that you were in a foreign land, surrounded by people who still didn't fully understand your bond. All that mattered was that you had each other, that you were stronger together than apart.

As the sounds of celebration grew louder outside, you and Daenerys shared a kiss, the taste of blood still lingering on your lips, a reminder of the ritual you had just endured. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the fire of dragons, and with the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

Together, you would conquer, you would rule, and you would love, bound by fire and blood, forever.

Request anytime 😊