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itsthestutterforme · 5 months ago

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“Glad You Called” (Jack Reacher x black!reader)

Summary: Two years ago, Reacher left your home with nothing but a note left behind. What does he expect your reaction to be when he shows up at your door, saying you were in danger?

Notes; GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, friends to lovers trope

The faint pattering of the rain on the tin roof of your outdoor garage was the only thing you could hear from the house.

You stared down at the unsaved numbers flooding your most recent call list. Reacher had been on your mind lately.

Which was kind of out of the norm because you hadn’t seen him in years. And you didn’t exactly end on the best of terms either.

He ghosted you. You woke up one random morning and noticed he was gone. A simple note was left behind:

“You’re perfect. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

I suppose it was better than nothing, but barely.

He was in the Atlanta area and needed some place to crash. You were the first person that came to mind. He knew you were in Atlanta but had no idea which part.

He would have been searching for hours until he happened to walk by the coffee shop you frequented.

You were eating a piece of bacon avocado toast when you felt eyes on you. You looked up to see the mountain of a man known as Reacher, and that was the start of a very slippery slope.

One night turned in six months. Neither of you crossed that boundary but it was very noticeable that there was something romantic between the two of you.

There was something about the way the looked at you that desperately made you wish that you were a telepath.

That man had libraries worth of words in that brain of his and yet he chose to remain quiet every time.

The best part about it was while he was selective with words, his presence spoke volumes whenever he walked into a room.

Little did you know that what was going through his mind when he would look at you was one thing: marriage.

And that scares the hell out of him. He never crossed the line because he knew he would never go back.

That would be the end of it. His time of being a wandered would be over and he would be forever tied to you.

The domestic life would have taken him over, and it would have been completely voluntary. Because he wants to be there, with you.

He would have lived out his life as a husband and as a father. And he knew he wasn’t going to be ready for that, so he left.

Over the course of the six months of you living together, you expected to see him when you got home. He would ask you how was your day was while he cooked dinner for you.

You’ve gotten used to that. You’ve gotten used to him. And then he was gone.

The letter was all you had left of him for two years. And now there is an unsaved number calling you every day for the past week like clock work.

Speaking of, your phone rings once again. It was the same unsaved number, but this timed you answered.

“Hello?” you heard a deep sigh through the phone.

“Reacher,” you added, your palms growing slick.

“Y/N,” he starts, it was almost as if he wasn’t expecting you to answer.

“What, cat got your tongue?” you said unamused.

“You’re in danger Y/N. When can you get to New York City?”

“What makes you think I want you to protect me?”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this. They threw Franz out of a helicopter after torturing him for information. I need to know that you are safe.” he says all in one breath.

“Franz?” you repeated.

He remained silent for a moment.

“God. I was at his wedding last year,” you said in disbelief.

“How soon can you get to New York?” he repeats.

“I can protect myself, Reacher. Goodbye.”

“Then I’m coming to you,” he says before ending the call. You stared at your phone with your mouth open in disbelief.

You had a feeling that would be a face you would be making often.

You already knew who it was from the solid knock reverberating through your house. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.

You had to admit that you’ve been on edge ever since Reacher called you. You only went out for the essentials and even then, those trips were kept minimal.

Taking your Beretta from your table, you check the chamber and clicked off the safety as you made your way towards the door. Opening the door, you had the barrel of the gun pressed against it.

Much to your surprise, it was not just Reacher at your front door. O’Donnel, Neagley and Dixon were standing behind him.

“I was hoping you weren’t serious,” you start.

“When have you ever known me to joke?”he retorts.

“There was a time that I knew you to have integrity. Obviously that has changed.” you said, clicking the safety back on.

You walked back inside and tucked your gun under your waist band. Reacher took that as an invitation to enter and the rest of the group followed.

Reacher couldn’t help but look around the familiar house. You still liked to keep the house smelling of citrus with a dash of honey.

He loved the smell. It reminded him of Christmas. Reminded him of home. He almost ran into you when you stopped to turn around.

Your glossed over eyes met his and while your gaze remained on his face, his explored every detail.

Your voluminous, curly hair just barely touched your shoulders. Your favorite crop top and sweatpants outfit you wore more often than not. Your fuzzy Crocs that he initially hated but he grew to love.

He grew to love you.

O’Donnel and Neagley shared a look at how cold you were being towards Reacher.

Of course they didn’t know about what happened between you before. So as far as they were concerned, it was unwarranted.

“You guys didn’t need to come all the way over here. Like I told Reacher, I can handle myself.” You explained, breaking the silence.

“I’m sure Franz thought the same thing,” Neagley starts.

“We’re not losing anyone else. And I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you’re just going to suck it up for the time being.” Reacher stampedes.

“If you somehow think you can just burst into my home and my life, and stick your chest out while you give orders. You’re insane. But if you really expect me to listen, you can fuck off.” You snark, crossing your game and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Okay, obviously we missed a few chapters.” O’Donnel voiced.

The group looked between you and Reacher for a moment until Dixon spoke up, “Whatever bad blood you two have, set it aside. I can guarantee you, it’s not worth your lives.”

“Yeah, we started coming up with a plan of action but it didn’t really get anywhere because Reacher was adamant about getting in touch with you. So now that we’re all together where can we start?” O’Donell facilitates.

“What do we have so far?” you questioned, giving Reacher one last pointed look before sitting down.

Should I make a part 2? 🤔

#black!reader #jack reacher x black!reader #jack reacher x reader

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emjayewrites · 16 days ago

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turkey day • jules koundé one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules experiences his first American Thanksgiving.

WARNINGS: cursing, family stuff, and abundance of thanksgiving food, fluff, boyfriend!jules

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Maya Richardson (fc @/Ebonee Davis)

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: I will be gone/offline on Thanksgiving so I figured to write something for y’all for Jules. Also thank you for 2,500 followers!!! This is insane 💕

Jules Koundé checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes, his carry-on Rimowa suitcase beside him as he waited in the private terminal of Barcelona-El Prat Airport. The early morning November air was crisp, and his mind wandered between the upcoming match against Las Palmas and the whirlwind journey he was about to embark on. Forty-eight hours in Atlanta – just enough time to experience his first American Thanksgiving with his girlfriend Maya's family before rushing back for the game.

"You know you don't have to come," Maya had said when he first suggested the trip. "My family will understand." But Jules had insisted. After dating for a year and a half, mostly long-distance while she finished her PhD in International Relations at Oxford, he wanted to meet the family she spoke about with such warmth and humor in their late-night FaceTime calls.

The private jet, arranged by the club, would make the tight schedule possible. As he settled into his seat, Jules pulled out his phone to reread Maya's latest text: "Daddy's already planning to show you 'real' football 😂 Just smile and nod, baby. Just smile and nod."

The flight passed in a blur of sleep, movies, and light training exercises in the cabin. When they touched down at Hartsfield-Jackson, Maya was waiting in a private lounge, wrapped in a cream-colored pullover that complemented her dark skin perfectly. Her braids were styled differently than when he'd last seen her three weeks ago in Barcelona, now arranged in an elegant updo.

"Bienvenue à Atlanta," she said with an exaggerated French accent that made him laugh as he pulled her into an embrace then kiss to her temple.

"Your accent is terrible," he murmured into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her Shea Moisture hair products.

"Yeah, well, your English was terrible when we first met, so we're even," she teased, leading him toward the parking garage where her car waited.

The drive to her parents' house in the affluent suburb of Cascade Heights took them through Atlanta's ever-changing landscape. Maya pointed out landmarks from her childhood – her old high school, the church where her grandfather had preached for forty years before retiring, the soul food restaurant where her family gathered after every major event.

"Now remember," she said as they turned onto a tree-lined street of impressive homes, "my Daddy's gonna try to intimidate you because that's just what he does. Mama will try to feed you until you burst. And my brothers..."

"Will try to determine if I'm worthy of their baby sister," Jules finished, having heard this warning before. "And your grandfather will question my profession."

"Exactly. And with all my cousins coming..." She glanced at him apologetically. "It might get a little overwhelming."

Jules reached over to squeeze her hand. "I play in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou. I think I can handle your family."

Maya's laugh was cut short as they pulled into a circular driveway where several cars were already parked. "We'll see about that."

The door opened before they reached it, and a statuesque woman who could only be Maya's mother emerged, arms outstretched. "This must be Jules!"

Dr. Angela Richardson, a respected cardiothoracic surgeon, enveloped Jules in a warm hug before he could even attempt a formal greeting. "Come in, come in! Everyone's dying to meet you!"

By "everyone," she apparently meant the small crowd gathered in the two-story foyer. Maya's father, Miles Richardson, stepped forward first – a tall man with graying temples and an athletic build that suggested his college football days weren't too far behind him. His handshake was firm but not challenging, his smile genuine if slightly reserved.

"Welcome to our home, young man. Maya tells us you play... soccer?" The slight pause before "soccer" made Jules bite back a smile.

"Yes, sir. For Barcelona and the French national team."

"Hmm," was all Miles said, but Jules caught the slight widening of his eyes at the mention of the national team. From what Maya had told him, her father had made it to the NFL combine before a knee injury ended his career, so he at least understood the significance of representing one's country.

The introductions continued in a whirlwind: Maya's twin brothers Miles Jr. ("MJ") and Michael, both successful attorneys; their wives; a handful of young children who regarded Jules with wide-eyed curiosity; and finally, her grandparents.

Reverend Richardson, Maya's paternal grandfather, was a commanding presence despite his advanced years. "So," he said, peering at Jules over his glasses, "They call it football over there. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we're about to watch some real 'football'. Lions versus Bears. Traditional Thanksgiving game. You might learn something."

Maya's grandmother, Ernestine, swatted his arm. "James, leave that boy alone. He's tired from his flight." She turned to Jules with a warm smile. "You just ignore him, sugar. Now, have you eaten? You look too skinny."

Before Jules could respond, Maya intervened. "Grandma, he's a professional athlete. He has to maintain his weight."

"Professional athlete?" came a new voice as one of Maya's cousins entered the foyer. "Man, what you bench press?"

Jules exchanged an amused glance with Maya. This was going to be interesting.

The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. The women congregated in the kitchen, putting final touches on tomorrow's feast, while the men gathered in the massive family room around a television that seemed larger than some movie screens Jules had seen. The Bears-Lions game played out before them, and Jules found himself genuinely interested in the strategic elements of American football, even if the constant stops and starts felt foreign to him.

"See, now that's football," Reverend Richardson commented during a particularly impressive touchdown play. "None of that running around for ninety minutes without scoring."

"Actually, Papa," Maya's brother Michael chimed in, "I looked up some of Jules' highlights. Man's got skills." He pulled out his phone and pulled up a compilation video of some of Jules' best defensive plays and goals for Barcelona.

The room fell silent as they watched Jules execute a perfectly timed sliding tackle before launching a counterattack that led to a goal. Even Reverend Richardson leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, then quickly corrected himself. "Lord forgive my language. But son, that was impressive."

Jules ducked his head modestly. "Thank you, sir."

The evening wound down with a lighter dinner of soup and sandwiches, everyone saving room for tomorrow's feast. As they prepared for bed – Jules in the guest room, Maya down the hall in her childhood bedroom, her father's rules being what they were – Maya slipped in to say goodnight.

"You survived day one," she said, perching on the edge of his bed.

"Your family is wonderful," he replied honestly. "Loud, but wonderful."

"Just wait until tomorrow when everyone else shows up."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Jules woke early, maintaining his training schedule with a light workout in the Richardsons' home gym, where he found Maya's father already on the treadmill.

"Early riser?" Miles asked.

"Have to be, sir. Game day or not, routine is important."

Miles nodded approvingly. They exercised in comfortable silence until Maya appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas, looking between them with suspicious amusement.

"Y'all better get ready. Mama's already in the kitchen, and the first wave of family will be here in two hours."

Jules showered and dressed carefully in dark chinos, a teal cashmere sweater, and polished brown dress shoes. When he emerged from the guest room, he caught Maya staring.

"You clean up nice," she said, drinking in the sight of him. She'd changed into a burgundy wrap dress that made Jules momentarily forget about football, family, and everything else. "I can say the same about you, bébé."

She giggled as he pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips slanted against his, feeling pillowy soft and addictive as usual. Jules let out a satisfied groan as he felt her fingers caress his chest, but it dissolved quickly to a huff when she pulled away.

"My family, baby," was her response and she fixed his sweater. "We can’t get too carried away."

True to Maya's warning, the house soon filled with extended family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends streamed in, each carrying dishes and each wanting to meet "Maya's French soccer player." Jules lost count of the handshakes, hugs, and variations of "Boy, you really got an accent, don't you?"

The Thanksgiving meal itself was a revelation. Jules had researched American Thanksgiving traditions, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer abundance of food or the specific traditions of a Southern Black family's celebration. Before eating, everyone joined hands as Reverend Richardson said grace, a lengthy prayer that touched on everything from family bonds to the state of the world to blessing "this young man who's traveled so far to be with us today."

The food was unlike anything Jules had experienced: deep-fried turkey ("Better than that dry oven-baked stuff," Maya's uncle insisted), collard greens, cranberry sauce, fresh homemade biscuits, mac and cheese that three different aunties claimed was their specialty, yams, and dishes whose names Jules couldn't quite catch but whose flavors exploded on his tongue.

"You got to put hot sauce on those greens," Maya's cousin Brandon advised, sliding a bottle of Crystal hot sauce his way. "Trust me."

Throughout the meal, Jules found himself fielding questions about his career, his family back in France, and his intentions toward Maya. The last topic came primarily from her brothers and male cousins, delivered with smiles that didn't quite hide their protective instincts.

"So, when you planning to make an honest woman of our Maya?" her cousin Marcus asked, causing Maya to choke on her sweet tea.

"Leave them alone," Maya's mother intervened. "They're young, they're taking their time."

But Jules caught the interested glance she threw his way and made a mental note to speak with Maya's father at his next visit. The small velvet box hidden in his home back in Barcelona suddenly felt more real.

After the meal, while the women managed the cleanup with military precision ("Don't you even think about helping, baby," Maya's grandmother shooed him away), Jules found himself in the family room surrounded by Maya's cousins. They'd shifted to sports talk, with him explaining the Champions League system to increasingly interested listeners.

"So it's like March Madness, but for a whole season?" one of Maya's cousins, Amir, asked.

"Kind of, yes," Jules nodded. "But with the best clubs from all over Europe."

"And you play for one of the best ones?"

"Barcelona is... yes, one of the best," Jules admitted modestly.

"My man!" Several of the cousins exchanged high fives and daps, apparently deciding that dating a player from one of Europe's elite clubs made Maya's choice acceptable.

"Alright, alright, you listen to music, Jules?” another one of Maya's cousins, DeAndre, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What rappers you listening to?"

Jules straightened up, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Probably the same as you."

This got a round of laughs, but Trey, who'd been quiet until now, smirked and said, "Well, I guess old Kanye was right – 'niggas do be in Paris.'"

The room erupted in laughter, and Jules couldn't help but join in, appreciating how quickly they'd made him feel like part of the family. Marcus then leaned forward, squinting at Jules intently.

"You know, now that I'm really looking at you... you look just like J. Cole."

MJ walked in at that moment, balancing his second helping of sweet potato pie. "Man, just because he's light skin and got dreads doesn't mean he look like J. Cole," he said, shaking his head as he settled into an armchair. "So, Jules, how you liking Atlanta so far? First time here, right?"

"Yes, but my best friend Aurélien visited before. He said he loved it." Jules nodded, shifting in his seat. "I'm enjoying it a lot," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I really like how Black it is here. It's different from Europe. Though I'm disappointed I won't get to see Maya's alma mater, Clark Atlanta, this trip."

"Man, you gotta come to Homecoming next year!" DeAndre exclaimed. "That's when Atlanta really shows out."

Jules smiled, genuine interest crossing his face. "I'll check my schedule. The football calendar is pretty rigid, but maybe during the international break..."

"So what did your boy Aurélien think about Atlanta?" Trey asked, a knowing look in his eye. "What spots did he hit up?"

Jules scoffed, shaking his head as memories of his conversations with Aurélien from three years ago flooded back. He tried his best to censor himself, careful with his words. "He, uh... he really enjoyed the food. Especially the lemon pepper wings..."

The cousins and Maya’s brothers exchanged knowing looks, immediately catching the careful way Jules was choosing his words. Marcus started laughing first.

"Magic City’s wings, huh?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"The wings..." Jules maintained diplomatically, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Aurélien has a... particular appreciation for certain aspects of Atlanta culture."

"Oh, you mean big booties," Trey said plainly, causing everyone to burst out laughing again.

MJ nearly choked on his sweet potato pie. "Y'all are terrible. Don't go telling our grandparents about your friend's 'cultural appreciation.'"

Jules raised his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, I just came for Thanksgiving dinner and family time. What Aurélien did on his own time..."

"Man speaks facts," DeAndre nodded approvingly. "But for real though, when you come back for Homecoming, we're gonna show you the real Atlanta. The clean version," he added quickly as MJ shot him a look. "Can't have Maya coming for our necks."

The next morning brought another new experience: Black Friday shopping. Maya insisted it was a crucial part of the American Thanksgiving experience, though Jules suspected she just wanted to see his reaction to the chaos. They joined her mother and sisters-in-law at the crack of dawn, fighting crowds at Lenox Mall.

"This is... intense," Jules commented as they watched two women nearly come to blows over a discounted designer bag.

"Welcome to America, baby," Maya laughed.

The shopping expedition was followed by service at Reverend Richardson's old church, where Jules found himself the center of attention once again. The congregation welcomed him warmly, though more than a few elderly church ladies sent meaningful looks Maya's way when they noticed the way Jules' suit fit him.

All too soon, it was time to leave on Saturday morning. Jules had a flight to catch, a match to prepare for. As they said their goodbyes, each family member hugged him like they'd known him for years rather than days.

"You come back soon, you hear?" Maya's grandmother said, pressing a container of leftover sweet potato pie into his hands. "And don't you worry about your figure just this once."

Reverend Richardson shook his hand firmly. "Next time, we'll teach you about real football properly," he said with a wink. "But I suppose your kind of football isn't so bad either."

Maya's father pulled him aside for a moment. "You take care of our girl," he said simply. "And maybe next time, stay a little longer."

In the car on the way to the airport, Maya was unusually quiet.

"Everything okay?" Jules asked.

"More than okay," she smiled. "They love you. Even Daddy, though he'll never admit it directly. And Papa actually watched some more soccer highlights after you went to bed last night."

Jules laughed. "Your family is... they're special."

"Special crazy or special good?"

"Special perfect," he said, taking her hand. "Though I might need a week to recover from all the food your grandmother insisted I eat."

"Please, I saw you getting seconds of that mac and cheese. Don't even front."

As the plane took off a few hours later, Jules thought about the whirlwind visit. He'd faced some of the world's best strikers, played in front of massive crowds, dealt with intense media scrutiny. But somehow, winning over Maya's family felt like his greatest victory yet.

His phone buzzed with a message from Maya: "Daddy just said he might come watch one of your games sometime. I think that means you're officially family now 😘"

Jules smiled, already thinking about his next visit. Maybe by then, that little velvet box wouldn't be hidden away in Barcelona anymore. But first, he had a match to win against Las Palmas. After all, he couldn't disappoint his new American family who might be watching.

#emjayewrites #jules lore #jules kounde #jules kounde x black reader #jules kounde x black oc #jules kounde fanfic #jules koundé fan fiction #footballer x black reader #football x reader #footballer x reader #fc barcelona fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months ago

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Here's a lovely 1925 home in Atlanta, GA. It's serene and tastefully decorated upstairs, but if you feel like getting funky, you can go down to the basement where it's a whole different world. 3bds, 3ba, 2,880 sq ft $895K.

This home, in the colonial style, has a nice living room with a brick fireplace that they painted a dark gray to "update" it.

And, it has a lovely dining room that opens to a deck.

This kitchen has been updated with stainless steel appliances and there's also a door to the deck. A modern tile backsplash is on the sink/stove wall, but the counters are laminate.

The kitchen's not very large, and you can see that it's a bit crowded. Nice little cookbook shelf next to the fridge, though.

Off the kitchen is an updated powder room with a cute pedestal sink.

In the family room, the brick fireplace has been painted white.

The primary bedroom is open to the family room. Not a fan of that.

Either this wasn't meant to be a bedroom, or it's a suite, but the stairs come up to an open doorway.

Small den.

Plus a large, updated shower room.

Outside the shower room there's a closet for the w/d, and a closet/dressing room that was converted from a small sun porch.

Then we take the spiral stairs to the lower level. Have you ever seen so many disco balls?

There's a full kitchen down here that also serves as a bar.

Here's a bar area and a small dance floor.

I'm wondering if the disco balls and chandeliers convey.

Back here, by the rear entrance, there's a 1/2 bath and a shower.

Behind the house, the deck is an elaborate 2 tier deck plus a screened-in porch.

There's also a lovely garden back here.

And, there's no garage, but there's a car port under the deck.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1241-Briarcliff-Rd-NE-Atlanta-GA-30306/14507700_zpid/?

#brick colonial homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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purelyfiction · 10 months ago

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stars in a line - robert 'bob' floyd x f!reader

Word Count: 1,207 words

Summary: Chicken's in the skillet, ice in the drink, head's in the clouds, diamond's in the rough, he's in a Chevy and I'm in love // Tips in the apron, hair's in a braid, Mercury's all in retrograde // He's in a T-shirt all cleaned up, Good lord almighty, mama don't wait up // Chills down my spine, hearts on the line, He's all mine and I'm in love

Content Warning: fluff!! also note of animal abandonment

Author Note: another round for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))))))

the familiar rumble of the older engine makes your features split with a smile. when bob had told you he was gonna drive his truck from montana to california you thought he was losing his mind.

then he'd explained why he was so insistent.

that he'd taken you out in that '87 Chevy all those years ago. after weeks of coming into the diner you worked in after school, dozens and dozens of milkshake and fry basket combos (and subsequent heartburn) just so he could hang out with you. he'd gotten up the nerve to finally ask you out. that truck had been your front row seats at the drive in watching a rerun of some old army movie his dad had recommended.

he'd taken the two of you to prom in that truck. to high school graduation, your college graduation. when the engine died on you while he was stationed in atlanta he'd taught you how to fix the thing via facetime.

beverly the chevy had been there for so many of your big moments. she'd been the reason why bob ended up buying the house that you stood contently in.

'bev is gonna need a place out of the elements if she's gonna stay top notch.'

this house had been the only one with a two car garage. one side for bev and one side for your car.

now when the engine rumbles echoed in the garage and made the older house vibrate, you couldn't help but grin. the sizzling of chicken in a skillet on the stove greets bob when he steps into the kitchen. he's greeted with the smell and a bottle of wine in a pile of ice in the sink. the door to the garage shuts, and you glance over your shoulder. when you do, you're witnessing the brown paper bouquet in his hands, white t-shirt on his shoulders, levis hugging his waist, trucker cap right where it belongs. he knows what this does to you. it's a simple look, nothing more than the basics but that's what does it. it highlights him. the man you love, bare bones and all.

the same man you fell for in that truck bed all those years ago.

he slides his boots off and wraps his arms around you from behind you, showing off the flowers he carried in. "happy flowers to you," he's humming now, making you giggle as his arms tight around you start bouncing you back and forth as he sings to the tune of 'happy birthday', "happy flowers to you, happy flowers, happy flowers, to my valentine youuuuuu" he punctuates the end of the song with a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you ease the weight of the florals from his hand.

"these are stunning, bo." you grin as he lets go, letting you turn to face him fully as he smiles.

"i know, i picked 'em cause they remind me of you." bob grins before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, barely pulling back when he speaks again, "happy valentines, sweet girl." you repeat the sentiment before he takes the arrangement and starts to get them into water.

you can't help but stare as he begins trimming the ends of each stem, easing them into the vase. you can smell the freshness of his body wash, having showered on base before he came home to you. couldn't waste time on your night together - and he knew it. the combination on him is near lethal to you. if you weren't actively cooking dinner, the counter would have been supplying a different kind of heat to the kitchen.

"i bought you something!" you nearly startle him with your sudden announcement, the reminder of your gift hitting you as you watch him. running down the hall causes the pup in the living room to chase after you, causing you and bob to both laugh.

shadow had been an unplanned addition to your lives because the poor pup appeared on your back deck one night. the collar on his neck held your current address. the previous owners had barely been involved with the process of the sale, so you didn't have their contact information to tell them hey assholes, you left your dog.

so, you and bob joked that the house came with a guardian, a black lab and german shepherd mix (bob got his dna tested out of infuriating curiosity). he quickly clung to the two of you - thus 'shadow'.

you lug the box into the kitchen, where bob has kept an eye on the meal you had recklessly abandoned. looking at you he huffs a gasp. "sweet girl, this is unnecessary." he laughs, taking the wrapped gift from your arms and sliding it onto the counter. still, he tears into it and reveals the milkshake maker, making him laugh, looking over at you with a grin. "that why you got your hair all done like this?" he grins, his fingers moving over the braid you'd plaited this morning.

"maybe." you hum, kissing his cheek as he looks over the box holding the machine. that diner the two of you met in had closed not long after you moved to san diego. you'd spent hours there and he'd once complimented the ribbon in your hair when it was woven into the braid on your head. recently, bob had mentioned how he'd missed those milkshakes they'd always made him.

he grins, before tucking his hand into his pocket. "hold out your hand." you hold it out as he asks, palm up. what he sets into your palm catches you off guard.

you'd been expecting something small, likely a jewelry box or something, like the years before.

instead a little metal circle is dropped into your palm. shining and glimmering. diamonds along it like stars in a line. your spine is electrified with chills, as your jaw drops as you look at him in awe. "bob, what-you-"

"i can get on my knee if you want, i'm just- i'm so in love with you. i'm truly in awe of you and how valid you make me feel. how valued and cherished i feel - how you listen," his head nods to the machine on the counter, "and you care and you never fail to be the best. just simply the best. i hope that i am for you-"

cutting him off you speak, "and you are," he laughs.

"then i wanna continue being that for you. for forever." you're sliding the new piece of jewelry onto your ring finger before he can get the words out, your arms slinking around his shoulders and linking your lips with his.

when you pull back, you grin.

"you're mine. i'm all yours and i'm in love. i'm so in love with you. with our life and the path we're on." you whisper. his hand takes a hold of your arm before the two of you jump at the sound of a smoke detector, both of you scrambling to clear the kitchen of smoke.

when the alarm is off and the burnt chicken is tossed, you smirk as you pull ice cream from the fridge.

"ice cream for dinner?" you try. bob grins.

"how about milkshakes instead?"

#bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year ago

Text

.⋆｡Neighbours｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

You have a little crush on your handsome next door neighbour

Warnings: modern!au, mutual pining, Negan, fluff

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

4k Follower Celebration

King’s County was a very cute town. Barely an hour outside of Atlanta but not so far in the sticks that you were completely isolated, it was the perfect place to set up roots. You got a house at the edge of town for practically nothing and immediately a job landed in your lap.

Of course, it was a difficult adjustment having moved from New York where you worked at a cafe to being in Georgia and getting the teaching job of your dreams but what really helped was your next door neighbour- Daryl Dixon.

You first met him the day you moved in.

Alone with a singular U-Haul truck that had your entire life in the back of it and the mid-July sun on your back, you could think of no worse torture than this as you slowly but steadily moved box after box into your new home. You felt like you were drowning in sweat and your arms were about to fall off when you heard a deep raspy voice from just outside the truck.

“Can I help?” His accent was so thick, it took you a minute to actually understand what he said.

The sun was at his back, covering his face in shadow but from what you could tell, he was just under 6 feet with hugely broad shoulders and slightly bowed legs. “Um yeah! That would be so great, thank you!” He nodded and grabbed the two boxes in front of him.

You were in awe as he lugged the boxes of books up your front steps without even a grunt of exertion. You followed behind with the last of your stuff, desperately trying not to look at his ass in those dark jeans he was wearing. “You can just put that by the stairs.”

He hummed and dropped them gently right where you told him to put it. “Thank you again, could I get you some water or lemonade, I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to repay you with”

He shook his head, causing his long dark hair to cover most of his face. “Naw, jus saw ya needed help. It’s what neighbours do ain’t it.” You smiled at his bashfulness.

“Well it was still a nice thing for you to do.” You reached out your hand and gave him your name. His eyes (you could now see that they were blue) flicked to your outstretched hand and then back down to your hardwood floor but he gave you a firm shake anyway.

“Daryl.” As he pulled back, he left a smear of what you thought was motor oil on the back of your hand. His face went beat red and he opened his mouth to apologise but you spoke again before he could.

“Let me get you dinner then, I was planning on ordering a pizza and I doubt I could eat a whole pie by myself.” That got a smile out of him, a small one but it was genuine and it made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright.”

Finally, it was the winter break, after four months of trying to wrangle multiple grades (it was a small school and you were the only history teacher), you could relax. You could feel the tension melting off your body as you drove up to your house.

You pulled your car into the driveway and immediately spotted Daryl. He was perched outside his garage, once again tinkering with his motorbike, a cigarette hanging from his chapped lips. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice how you just sat in your car and stared at him longingly.

Daryl was a drop dead gorgeous man and apparently he didn’t even know it. He was incredibly strong with biceps almost the size of your head and a general bad boy biker appearance but with a heart of absolute gold. You sighed and grabbed your school bag that unfortunately had paper you still needed to grade.

“Hey Daryl!” You called out. His head shot up so quickly, his cigarette fell to the ground between his booted feet. He cursed under his breath and picked it up again. “Some teachers are coming over to my place for some drinks if you want to join, no pressure though!”

“Sure.” He dismissed but you smiled brightly.

“See you there!”

Rock music crooned from the speakers, just barely audible over the chatter of your coworkers and neighbours as they mingled. You were in the kitchen, making margaritas at the behest of the school’s gym teacher. He hovered over you as you made the drinks, he was either telling you some story about his ‘glory days’ or insulting you, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Negan, it doesn’t need that much tequila!” You snatched the nearly empty bottle from his hand which he had been pouring into the blender when your back was turned.

“Of course it does!” He tried to wrestle the bottle back from you but you stubbornly held on. It quickly became a childish game of tug-of-war that neither of you were really taking seriously, just happy to let loose after dealing with idiotic students for 4 months.

Just as you were getting the upper hand, a voice caught your attention. “Hey.” Hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped forward with a small blush dusting the apple of his cheeks.

“Hi.” You immediately greeted, unbothered that Negan had stolen back the bottle of alcohol and had subsequently dumped the rest of its contents into the half-made cocktail mixture. “There’s pizzas in the living room and some beers chilling on the deck if you want.” You offered and the shy mechanic just nodded, wandering off into the small crowd.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes dip down to his ass, watching it as he disappeared into the hall. “Seriously? Him?" Negan’s voice startled you from the hypnotising sight, your head snapping back to face him. He was smirking at you with a mixture of disgust and a strange proudness.

“Shut up.” You grumbled and grabbed some extra ice from your freezer to throw into the blender.

“I thought I was more your type but I see it now, a redneck shotgun wedding! Maybe you’ll have roadkill hors d’oeuvres with moonshine- ow! The fuck was that for?” He rubbed at his hurt shoulder which you just punched.

“At least my wedding won’t be fucking baseball themed, you has been.” And as you bickered back and forth, neither of you noticed the figure standing in the doorway, face beat red and blue eyes practically sparkling. If it were up to him, your wedding would be the most lavish event the world had ever seen and by god, he hoped that he would be the one standing at the end of that aisle for you.

Request: Can I please get "neighbors" and "Seriously?Him?" for Daryl for your celebration?

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#4k follower celebration #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x plus size reader #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #request #inbox #fluff

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year ago

Note

Sentence concept (dad Jack):

“Don’t make me tell Dad”

"Oh, fuck.” Axel muttered as he assessed the damage on your newly upgraded G Wagon that you had originally gotten for a push gift for Nova from Jack.

“Dad is going to be so pissed. He literally picked it up for mommy this afternoon.” Autumn replied as she noticed the huge scratch and dent on it.

“I just tapped the barrier! How is it dented!?” Axel exclaimed while throwing his hands up in disbelief.

“Maybe they won't notice?”

“Autumn, please tell me you didn't just say that.”

“Well, you have to come clean because you were the one driving.”

“I….”

“Don't make me tell dad.”

“You play the role of the annoying ass little sister a little too well sometimes.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

The two of them made their way back home and Axel parked your car back in the garage and prayed that you didn't drive it until he was able to talk to Anthony's dad to fix it since he was a mechanic.

When 8 AM hit, Axel heard his father's booming voice and knew he was in trouble.

“AXEL WYATT HARLOW. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW.”

Axel made his way to the living room to see Jack red in the face and Autumn looking guilty.

‘Sorry big brother.’ She mouthed towards him and all he did was sigh.

“Bye Autumn.” Jack said and she immediately started to protest until he gave her a look.

“Um, I'll be going now.”

“So, you want to explain to me why there is a big dent and a scratch the size of Texas on your mom's G Wagon that I just got upgraded and picked up from the dealer yesterday to surprise her?”

“Umm”

“It's no time for that. And you took your sister and neither of you actually have a license and only a permit? Do you know how dangerous that was?”

“We were coming right back!”

“You can stop with the excuses. You know better than that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“The two of you seriously could have gotten hurt. And then what?”

“Are you going to tell mom?” Axel asked and right on cue, you came in the door.

“Tell me what babes?” You asked and his eyes went wide. You kissed Jack before coming over and hugging Axel as you kissed his cheek. You were back a day early from Atlanta and Axel knew he would be grounded for the rest of his life.

“Uh….”

“Axel and Autumn took your car that I just upgraded for a joy ride last night and dented and scratched it.”

“AXEL!”

“I….”

“With no license. So, Ax along with Autumn is going to use their allowance money every month to get it fixed and I'm not budging. No video games. No going out with your friends and I have to decide if I'll let you play soccer or not.”

“Axel, babe. You understand why we're upset, right?” You asked and all he did was nod.

“You and your sister could have gotten hurt and that is the last thing we want. You not only put yourself in harm's way, but her too.”

“You're her big brother so I expected more from you.” Jack added as Axel was looking down at his feet.

“I know.”

“Ax, we almost lost you when you were a baby so this gave me flashbacks. You cannot do reckless things likw this." Jack quietly said and you simply nodded agreeing with him.

Now, he immediately felt guilty.

“Anytime you want to go out driving, we will take you but this cannot happen again. Cars can be replaced, the two of you can't.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can go back upstairs.”

That now left the two of you and Jack could tell you were visibly getting upset.

“Baby, I know where your mind is going but they're both okay.” He said as he brought you into a hug.

“I cannot take the thought of something happening to them.”

“I know. But we aren't focusing on that. We’re focusing on the fact that they’re both okay.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow imagine #first lady of pg

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the-name-is-z · 2 months ago

Text

SKELETONS | ch. 52

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Iris, Daryl and Carol run in to some trouble in Atlanta, and make some progress in the search for Beth. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; entrapment; car accidents; injury; armed robbery; cops

Chapter 52 - Burned

They left the fancy office building, deciding to head back through the parking garage toward the overpass with the van. Carol squeezed herself through the chained doors once again, walkers still clawing at the tents uselessly. Iris followed next, taking the crossbow again for Daryl, but she stilled at the sight of a gun barrel pointed between her eyes.

“Daryl, don’t!” Carol warned, but it was too late. He was already halfway through the doors.

“Hands up, all of you!” The kid demanded. He must have only been in his early twenties, maybe younger. Carol’s assault rifle was military grade, except he looked nervous to even hold it. His hands were placed incorrectly on the gun, and it sagged forward with the weight he must not have been used to. Daryl wrestled his way through the doors, standing to face the boy. He also had a black eye, though his decorated his right eye instead of Daryl’s left. “Lay down the crossbow.”

“You got some sack on you.” Daryl bit out as Iris slowly laid the crossbow on the ground.

“Look, nobody has to get hurt, I just need weapons! That’s it!” The kid insisted.

“Clearly. Your left hand goes on the grip, not the magazine, dumbass.” Iris snorted. The kid flushed, fixing his grip.

“Please lay down the crossbow.” He repeated. Iris did as he asked. “Back up.” They moved back enough for him to stoop down and pick up the crossbow, pulling it over his shoulder. “Sorry about this, but you look tough. You’ll be alright.” He backed up, using Carol’s knife to slash a hole in the tents, letting the walkers out toward them. They were dead in almost an instant, the kid barely down at the end of the pedway. They ran after him, chasing him into the parking garage, but he’d chained the door shut.

“Little fucker.” Iris huffed.

They moved through the building to another floor that had evidently been under construction before it all happened. The entire floor was empty with plastic sheets and tools left sporadically around. Daryl tried the door to the stairwell, scowling at it when it appeared locked. Iris handed him the lock picks, and Daryl released a triumphant grunt when it clicked open.

They had no possible way to know where the kid went, so they pushed on. They walked to the overpass, finding the white van hanging halfway off the edge, crashed completely through the railing. Daryl was quietly seething, Iris and Carol just let him feel angry. Beth was more important than his crossbow anyways. They needed to hurry, swarms of walkers following them up onto the overpass. There was more coming up the other side as well. Daryl ripped open the back doors to the van, peering inside.

“Alright. Let’s get this done.” He murmured.

“It’s not stable.” Carol winced as the whole van creaked, even with one of Daryl’s feet on the bumper.

“Here. I’m lighter.” Iris offered, hopping up into the van with a lighter creak. Daryl sat himself on the end, watching as Iris climbed down into the front seat. The whole truck rattled and she winced. There was a map, a few receipts and papers tucked underneath the visor.

“There’s more coming.” Carol called from the back of the van. “We’re gonna have to fight through.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em.” Daryl grumbled. He crouched further in the back, examining the gurney that lay across the bed of the van. He flipped it over, reading GMH on the bottom.

“We have to go!” Carol called.

“Coming.” Iris grunted, climbing back up over the seats to crouch beside Daryl.

“GMH? What’s that? A hospital?” He asked. Iris nodded.

“Grady Memorial.” She answered. “The white crosses, that might be where they’re holing up.”

“Then that’s where we’re headed.” He decided. They jumped out of the back of the van, joining Carol as they dove into the fray. A few shots rang out, Carol unloading the last of her three bullets. Iris and Daryl did what they could with knives, but it wasn’t enough.

“Daryl…” Iris called, getting nervous.

“Go, go!” He urged, gesturing inside the van. The three of them climbed in, slamming the back doors shut. The van creaked, shuddering forward as the walkers surrounded them, slamming fists and open hands against the doors and windows.

“Anything we can use?” Carol asked, her voice betraying her alarm.

“Nothing but what we got.” Daryl grunted. Iris winced, decidedly not looking out the windshield at the looming drop off the overpass. Daryl and Carol exchanged a look, both of them glancing at the seats. “Alright. Buckle up.”

“Are you serious?” Iris asked, wide eyed.

“It’s either that or them.” He said quietly, scowling. Carol took the driver’s seat and wrapped the seatbelt around herself before clipping it in securely, gripping the door beside her with white knuckles, her other hand clutching the steering wheel. Daryl clambered into the passenger seat before grabbing Iris, pulling her onto his lap. He wound the seatbelt over them both, one of his arms hooking her firmly against him, the other bracing against the dashboard. The van swayed at the weight shifting, more walkers pressing at the back doors.

Carol was hyperventilating, reaching and gripping Iris’ hand tightly. Iris had her eyes screwed shut, trying to focus on the feeling of Carol’s hand in hers, Daryl’s arm around her. The creaking was deafening, and Iris found herself waiting for her life to flash before her eyes.

“You hold on.” Daryl murmured, his face pressed into the side of her neck. She nodded, squeezing Carol’s hand as her stomach lurched. The van tipped over the side, miraculously landing squarely on all four wheels. The windshield shattered, the metal crumpled, and both airbags exploded outward.

The three of them sat panting, assessing themselves, each other. There was a moment of silence where they said and heard nothing, and it was swiftly interrupted by a walker slamming down onto the hood and windshield of the van, brains and innards spattering across the broken glass.

“We’re okay.” Carol whispered miraculously. Iris let her head hang forward, her heart thundering in her chest. Daryl unhooked the seatbelt and the three of them clambered out of the car. Iris wheezed, clutching her ribs in pain. Carol was cradling her arm, and Daryl had a slight limp. Otherwise, however, they were managing just fine. Daryl and Iris leaned on each other for support as they regained their senses.

“Which way is Grady Memorial?” Daryl asked, his voice rasping. Iris pointed, licking her lips before clutching her ribs again.

“That way.” She managed, coughing slightly. She wasn’t coughing blood or bleeding anywhere, so hopefully she’d just cracked a rib. They made their way to a nearby building, sitting out back on a small wooden platform that functioned as a loading dock. Carol handed them their canteens and water bottles, the three of them still shaking from adrenaline.

“How bad is it?” Daryl asked when Iris winced for the fifth time since they got there.

“Had worse.” She replied, offering half a shrug. She peeled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a bloodied abrasion on her shoulder.

“Ugh, that was stupid.” Daryl sighed, shaking his head.

“We made good time down.” Carol offered. Iris chuckled. “There’s only three blocks between us and Grady.”

“We should find a place nearby. Scope it out and see.” Daryl suggested.

“You really think we’re gonna find out what we need to know just by watching?” Carol asked.

“Well, it’s where we start.” Daryl shrugged, capping his canteen. “Come on.”

They moved along, going into one of the nearby university buildings to do some more reconnaissance. They were met with another dead group of survivors, these ones armed. Though, the walker Iris killed first didn’t really know how to use the machete on his belt. She grabbed it, using it to cut his head open. Daryl was grabbing a bag full of food when Carol called out to them.

“It’s them.” She called from the window. They moved over to see what she was looking at. It was just the hospital, looming a block away.

“Alright. Let’s see what we see.” Daryl said, passing out small bags of chips from the larger bag he’d found. They sat down at the window sill, setting up a small stakeout camp. Daryl turned to Iris, clearing his throat. They had a moment alone, as Carol meandered off looking for a bathroom. “You know, Carol told me I’m not like how I was before.” He murmured.

“Oh?” Iris asked, popping a very stale potato chip into her mouth. Daryl shrugged.

“Said I used to be a boy, now I’m a man.” He snorted, crumpling up his own bag of chips and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Oh.” Iris replied, in a tone that made him scoff, rolling his eyes at her. She grinned. “That you are, Mr. Dixon.” He scoffed again, shaking his head. “Everyone’s changed. It’s… weird.”

“How so?” He asked, slumping against the wall and opening another bag of chips. Iris shrugged.

“I don’t know. We all used to be someone, and learned who we all were as those people, but each time something new happens, something bad… they get burned away. We all stay together, we know each other, but I still… I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” Daryl nodded in understanding and Iris blinked, looking down at the bag of food in her hands. “I’m scared,” She admitted, “That whoever I start over as, whoever I become… will get burned away too.”

“Hey…” He called, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. “We ain’t ashes.” He assured. Iris blinked again, nodding. A loud thump sounded, followed by a door closing down a distant hallway. Carol poked her head around the corner.

“What was that?” She asked. They all stood, gathering their weapons and swiftly charging down the hallway. They followed the noise to a room at the end of a hallway, finding a walker thudding against a column in the middle of the room. He had an arrow through his throat, pinning the walker to the drywall. “Is that yours?” Carol asked.

“Yeah.” Daryl confirmed. He used the machete to put an end to the walker before pulling out the arrow. So the kid with the crossbow was there— or someone had taken it from him and they were there. They all turned at the sound of automatic gunfire, the rifle belonging to Carol was also an automatic.

Iris turned the corner, finding the kid pinned against the wall by a walker. He quickly pushed the walker of of himself and onto her. She grunted as they fell, dropping the knife in her hand and bracing her arm against the walker’s shoulders to keep its teeth as far away from her as possible. Daryl quickly came to her rescue, killing the walker with the machete while Carol ran around the corner after the kid.

“You good?” Daryl asked, holding his arm out. Iris accepted it with a grateful nod, wincing and clutching at her ribs as a spike of pain shot through her.

“Come on.” She urged. They followed after Carol, finding her waiting around another hallway corner. She put a finger to her lips, pointing to the room. The kid was inside, wrestling with a tall bookshelf. Daryl spared no time, running into the room and slamming into the kid, knocking them both to the floor. Daryl rolled as the bookshelf teetered, falling down on top of the kid, pinning him to the floor.

There was a glass door behind the bookshelf he was trying to move, and a walker ran forward, pressing into the door and trying to get it open. It was stopped by the bottom of the shelf, but if any more appeared they would definitely break the glass.

“You little bitch.” Iris hissed, crouching down beside the kid and ripping Daryl’s crossbow from his hands. She passed it to Daryl behind her.

“Plea— please. I had to protect myself.” The kid pleaded.

“Why you following us?” Daryl yelled.

“I-I didn’t! I swear! I thought you followed me!” He replied.

“Bullshit.” Daryl grumbled. He knelt down, finding a cigarette carton in the kid’s bag. He pulled out a pack and lit up, glaring down at the kid as he groaned against the bookshelf.

“Please!”

“Nah. I already helped you once. It ain’t happening again.” Daryl grunted. “Have fun with Hoss over there.” He turned to Iris and Carol, jerking his chin back at the hallway. “Let’s go.”

“No. No, no, no! Please! Please!” The kid cried, even as they disappeared from view. “Please!”

“Daryl…” Iris said softly.

“You almost died because of him!” Daryl spat, pointing back down the hallway. Iris exhaled through her nose.

“But I didn’t. If he really was going this way, maybe he knows where Beth is.” She suggested. He huffed, taking a long drag.

“Nah. Let him be.” Daryl scoffed, turning away and continuing down the hallway.

“Daryl!” Carol called, but he wouldn’t answer. Iris huffed, turning back only to see the walker finally get through the door, tripping over the bookcase and falling right in front of the kid. He screamed, pleading to anyone who could listen. Iris took a step toward him, but Daryl got to him first. The arrow flew past her, embedding into the walker’s brain. The kid sighed, though still straining against the bookshelf.

Iris dragged the dead body off of the shelf, Daryl moving around to lift it off of the kid. Carol pulled him out while Daryl held it up, muscles flexing before he dropped it back on the ground.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The kid panted, clutching at his knees as he sat on the ground. Daryl took a step toward him and he shot up, darting over to the window with a limp.

“You okay?” Iris asked Carol, who stood bowed over with her hands on her knees.

“I’m still here.” Carol panted, smiling softly. Iris frowned, though she nodded anyways.

“I gotta go. They’re gonna come. They probably heard the shot.” The kid mumbled, wide-eyed and fearful. “If they find me…”

“Who?” Daryl asked.

“Them. People at the hospital.” He explained. “They—“

“Wait, wait, wait, just tell us— did you see a blonde girl there? Was there a blonde girl?” Daryl asked, walking over and pushing the kid back before he could run.

“Beth?” The kid asked, his eyes widening.

“You know her?” Iris asked, running over.

“You know her?” The kid asked. “She helped me get out, but she’s still there.” Carol peered out the window, spotting a white station wagon with a cross park outside the building.

“They’re coming.” She warned.

“We gotta go now. We gotta go. We gotta go.” The kid urged, turning Daryl around and pushing him toward the exit. The kid led them down the stairs and through the building, surprisingly quick despite the heavy limp. “The building next door has a basement. It’s clear. We’ll be safe.” He assured. He tried to run, though quickly crumpled, on the ground clutching his leg.

“Go! I got him.” Daryl assured. Carol ran forward, darting out of the glass doors and into the street. Iris hesitated, glancing back as Daryl struggled to loop the kid’s arm over his shoulders. A loud thud sounded, accompanied by the screeching of tires. The station wagon squealed around the corner, plowing into Carol before she tumbled to the ground. Daryl lunged, but the kid held him back.

“No, no, no! Wait, wait.” The kid pleaded. Iris froze, unsure of what to do.

“Let go of me!” Daryl called.

“Wait! They can help her.” The kid assured. Two men in Atlanta police uniforms exited the car, one of them carrying a stretcher on his back. They laid Carol out on it before carrying her to the back of the vehicle. “They’re the only ones who can. They have medicine, machines, a doctor. You go out there, you’ll have to kill them, okay? And then she can’t get their help. Is that what you want? We can get her back. We can get Beth back.”

“What is it gonna take?” Iris asked, looking back at the kid.

“A lot.” He admitted, panting. “They’ve got guns, people.” He looked back at them nervously.

“So do we.” Daryl said lowly, shouldering out of his grip and pacing across the floor. Iris crouched down, trying not to panic. She ran a hand through her hair. Carol and Beth. And they were outnumbered. For now.

The kid led them outside into a fenced alleyway near the hospital. They lit a dumpster on fire, drawing out the walkers so they could run around the swarm and cut through the fence. Iris hot-wired a truck and they broke through the fenced gate, Daryl driving them through the city back toward the countryside. If they were going to break out their hostages, they needed more guns.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

#thenameisz #daryl dixon #skeletons #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon x fem! oc

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deansapplepie · 1 year ago

Text

Inherited | Chapter 3

Summary: Daryl needs Y/N’s opinion about something, but what she has to say isn’t exactly what he wants to listen.

Warnings: mentions of animal abuse (or kind of). Minors do not Interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 1,995

A/N: English isn’t my first language so it can have mistakes.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Chapter 3:

Beautiful but treacherous

You were at your dad’s office, well… now you thought it would start to be yours. When you went to Administration College, you thought about having an excuse to come back and help your dad with the farm, but you never did. You worked as ADM on Aaron’s business instead. So now it was time for you to start taking care of everything. You took all the recent documents, the financial books and had everything spread or piled on the table.

Aaron and Eric went for a walk around the farm, to get to know everything while you were busy checking if everything was ok. Your hair was tied up on a ponytail and you frowned in concentration, when you heard a knock on the door. You looked up and Daryl was standing there, you waited for him to speak.

“Good ya’re looking at it, ‘cause I know nothing about it.” He said, walking inside the office hat on his hand.

“Guess, going to college wasn’t so useless. Don’t you think?” You smirked, he knew why you were saying this. “Can I help you, Dixon?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’ and discuss it.” He said after clearing his throat, he tried to be polite and make small talk before, but he should have seen it coming since you have been at each other throats since you arrived.

“Sure, what is it?” You asked him.

“Follow me to the stables.” He said, you got up and he took you in. “Ya better grab yer boots, bet ya dun want yer white sneakers dirty.”

You looked at your shoes and sighed in frustration going to your room to change for your boots. When you came back you followed him to the stables, your eyes roaming about the land and many memories floating around in your mind. When you got to the stables you remembered about how many times you helped your dad there, how you would come and help Daryl so you both could play faster. When you asked your father if you could go play with Daryl he always said “Help him to finish the chores and both of you can play.” These were memories that brought a smile to your face.

You’d just got to the farm for your first summer with your dad after him and your mom divorced. 9 year-old you couldn’t contain the excitement of being back home, with your dad and close to your friends. Your dad parked his old truck on the garage and you got off of the car running to find who you needed.

“I love you too sweetie.” Your dad shouted playfully, he had picked you up at Atlanta’s airport, you had hugged and talked a lot already.

You ran until you found Daryl brushing a mare’s fur. You shouted his name and he stopped everything to look at you, a small smile on his face. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a tight hug. When you parted from the embrace, first thing you did was looking on his arm for the bracelet you gave him, it was there.

He looked at you eyeing your clothes, pink shoes, jeans and a shirt with unicorns and rainbows in it. “Why’re dressin’ like a girl?” He wasn’t used to you dressing like this. That wasn’t you.

“ ‘cause… I’m a girl?” You answered not understanding where your friend want to take this conversation.

“Ya dun dress this kind of girlie things, this isn’t ya.” He said and you didn’t know how to explain it for him. Sometimes you’d call to talk to him or Maggie, but you never said how things sucked at school.

“I have to. The other kids pick on me, so I have to wear this clothes.” You drawled, in your old school nobody would do this, everyone were the same way, but now it was completely different.

“Why don’t ya punch them?” He stated matter of factly.

“ ‘cause it’s wrong, and I’d have to punch the whole school.” You said. “Dun wanna talk more about it. I wanna have the best summer with ya and Mags!”

Daryl smiled, he was happy. He had missed you so much, there wasn’t a day where he and Maggie didn’t talk or thought about you. Everything reminded you. He really wanted to go to NY and kick the ass of everyone on your school, but he’d rather enjoy the little time that summer was with you.

“Are ya gonna come or are ya staying there smiling all goofy?” Daryl brought you back from your memories.

You were at the door of the stables and he was already in the middle of it, waiting for you. You shook your head sending all those thoughts away and following him inside. He stopped in front of a stall, there was a beautiful black horse and you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beautiful animal.

“It’s beautiful.” You said, before you could think about anything.

“Beautiful but treacherous.” Daryl said bitterly.

“Is it… the horse?” You asked, by his tone you knew it was.

“Yeah.” He affirmed. He leaned on the stall and looked at you. “What d’ya want to do with it?”

“What do you mean?” He was the one in care of the animals, you knew how to do it, but it was his job.

“D’ya wanna sell it or sacrifice it?” He asked bluntly and your heart went directly to your throat, his words surprised you a lot. Your dad would never get rid of an animal just because he couldn’t tame it on the first time. Your dad taught you to love and respect the animals, you’d just take an animal’s life for 2 reasons: 1- you needed to eat. 2- It was suffering.

“Daryl…” you took a breath before saying what you were going to say, because it was also being difficult for you. “This options are not going to bring him back or make the pain go away.”

“So, you’d rather look at it everyday and remember it killed your daddy?” He wasn’t being reasonable, and you knew he could be like this when he was angry or sad or hurt.

“If… he haven’t died. If he had just fell from the horse… what would he do?” You knew the answer, but you wanted to make him think.

Silence.

“He’d find another way. He’d try another method.” You said. “And you know I’m right. You knew him.”

Silence. He gripped the stall with both hands, a heavy sigh leaving him. You knew it was destroying him. You got closer to him and slowly and carefully put one hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need to find a guilty. It was an accident. He wouldn’t like to see you like…” ‘this’ you would say. But he took your hand off him and by his looks you swear he hated you.

“Ya know shit about what he’d like! Ya didn’t even come here on family holidays! Ya have no right to say what he’d like or not.” He shouted at you and left the stable cursing and stomping his feat. He knew you were right, and he could see that you were still as sweet as you used to be before, but it didn’t change what you did and what you said.

You stayed there paralyzed, you were just trying to help. You just wanted to remember him what your father would want and that it wasn’t it that would make the grief go away. You knew it would never stop, many people that had already lost their parents told you it was a pain that you’d never forget, you just get used to it and learn how to live with it. But you shouldn’t have known it was going to be like this, he didn’t want to discuss feelings with you, he just wanted business. That was what you were now, business partners and he wanted you to make a decision about the horse, together. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, but suggesting selling or killing the horse… that was exactly what he was doing. So many years and he’s still didn’t know how to manage his feelings.

Later that day, you called Aaron and Eric to the office, so you could talk with them. They were leaving the next day and you couldn’t let Aaron go without knowing what you were about to do.

“I’m not going back to NY.” You said, it was better to say it quickly than to take much longer.

“You aren’t just resigning, are you?” He asked, how he would find someone that he trusted to help him administer his business.

“Yes, I am.” You said feeling a little guilty. “I need to stay, that was what I was supposed to do since the beginning.”

“Can’t you continue to work for me from distance? I mean, we can do everything online nowadays.” He insisted. “I’ll never find someone like you.”

“We can try, but if I feel it’s too much…”

“Ok, we can try to work like this. If it works, it is an extra money for you. If it doesn’t… I may have to kidnap you.” He said, joking in the end to try to lighten the mood.

“Deal.” You said and extended your hand so he could shake it, and he did.

When the night arrived and everybody went to sleep, you didn’t feel like going to bed. So you headed outside, the cold breeze of the night hitting your face. You thought it would be good to watch the stars from outside instead of from your room like you did the night before. You walked to your spot, you could watch the stars from anywhere, but you felt it was wrong if you didn’t do it from the same place you used to.

Getting close to it, you saw his frame there. So you were not wrong the day before, he was the one there. Today, once again he smoked his cigarette while observing the sky. He listened to you arriving, you were silent, but he had a good hearing from years getting into the woods and hunting to feed his family. You sat on the fence, a little distant from him. He let some smoke come out of his mouth and turned to you, you were staring. Damnit, you were caught.

“Didn’t want to watch it from your window again?” He asked taking his cigar to his mouth. So he had seen you…

“It isn’t as good as here.” You answered looking to the sky again and trying hard to not look at him. “Thought you’d stop doing it…”

“I tried. It seems like this shit is as addicting as my cigar.” Why did he started to make small talk with you again? He couldn’t understand his own actions. He was angry at you, with all your smartness and sweetness acting like you knew everything and you were always right. But he couldn’t stop himself from talking any shit with you, he wished he had come up with an offense but he was not in the mood to fight. Yes, the days Daryl Dixon wasn’t in the mood to fight existed.

The last thing you imagined was that you were going to be stuck in the farm with him, having to be polite and talk. The thing was, you couldn’t even make a conversation without being pricks to each other.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, so you just kept you attention to the sky.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

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final-girl96 · 1 year ago

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Broken World: Chapter Three

Atlanta 2010

I sat at my desk filling out the paperwork for the arrest we just made on Troy Kinney, a man who killed three women in the span of a month. He wasn't smart about it either. Left evidence all over the crime scenes. He wasn't hard to find either. "Stone!" I turned my head to see the Lieutenant walking towards my desk. I stood up as he approached. "Lieutenant."

"I need you to go to 345 Chestnut Street. There is a man who killed his wife and apparently ate part of her too before trying to attack the neighbor. Take Peterson with you." I gave him a confused look, not sure I heard him right. "I'm sorry, did you say he ate part of her?" I asked. He nodded his head with a sigh. "Yeah. Neighbor said he heard the wife screaming for help while out on a walk, tried to help only to be attacked himself, bitten actually, before getting away and locking himself in the house, checked the man's wife for a pulse but found none and called 911."

"There seems to be a lot of reports of people attacking others and biting them," I said. "Yeah, I don't know if it's some new drug or what, but we gotta get it off the streets, whatever it is." I nodded and pushed my chair in. "Peterson, you're with me!" I called out. Peterson was new, transferred from New York PD, and he's supposedly one of the best they had. I'll be the judge of that, I guess. He came over to me, a smile on his stupid, handsomely face.

I grabbed my stuff off my desk and started walking for the door. We headed out of the other department and headed for the garage where the cars were parked. "So, am I driving, or are you?" I walked up to my car and opened the driver's side door. "You it is," Peterson said and got in. "Do I get to know what we're heading into?" He asked.

"Man killed his wife; are part of her before attacking the neighbor." I looked over at him to see his green eyes staring at me in shock. "Ate part of her?" I nodded my head, "yeah, and bit the neighbor." I started the car and pulled out of the parking garage, onto the busy city streets, and towards the highway. "There's been a lot of that; people attacking people, biting them."

I hummed as a reply, looking up at the light, waiting for it to turn green. "We never had anything like this in New York. Well, I mean we had some fucked up shit, but eating someone…yeah, nope. At least not while I was there." I took a deep breath and started driving again. I was not used to having a partner; I work better alone. So, have you lived in Atlanta your whole life?"

"No." I mumbled, pulling onto the highway. "Where are you from?" He asked. "A small town hours from here," I said. I hate small talk, and he keeps asking questions. "Why'd you move to the city?" I shrugged, "because I wanted out. Nobody ever gets out of a small town like mine. Stop asking questions." He mumbled a sorry, and the rest of the ride was silent. When we pulled up to the house, there were already police and ambulance and the coroner outside the house.

The crime scene wasn't like anything I've seen before. The poor woman was ripped apart, a gaping hole where her stomach should have been, and her throat was ripped out as well. Peterson ran out as soon as he saw the scene, I could hear him gagging and heaving outside. The floor under the woman was covered in dried blood. I walked outside and up to the man who had found her.

He sat in the back of an ambulance, getting the bite mark his neighbor had given him cleaned by one of the medics. I asked him to tell me exactly what happened and if he saw which way the suspect went. He told me exactly what I was told at the office and that he wasn't sure where the husband went.

After we got back to the precinct, I started writing up the report and going over everything. The chatter of other detectives and officers grew louder and louder until someone yelled to shut everyone up. The tv was on the news, as it always was. A news report, a thin woman with long blonde hair, bright green eyes, stood in the street with a scene going on behind her.

Police cars, officers, medics, and ambulances blocked off the street behind her. A man lay on the ground, blood pooled under his body while another man slowly stumbled to his feet. Blood covered his hands all the way up his forearms and covered his face. Officers shouted at him to stand down, their guns pointed at him. The news reporter repaid the events that unfolded behind her. When the man didn't get on his knees with his hand behind his head and just kept coming, an officer fired his gun, hitting him in the shoulder.

That didn't stop the man, though. It only jerked him back a couple of steps before he kept stumbling towards the line of officers. Another shout for him to stop and get on the ground came before a gunshot rang out, and another and another. No matter how many times they shot at him, he didn't stop coming until one bullet found itself flying through the man's forehead and out the back of his skull. Only then did the man stop, dropping to the ground.

Screams from the patrons standing around watching the scene screamed and shouted. Until the second man, who was believed to be dead, rose to his feet slowly, shuffling his feet towards a woman standing too close and biting into her throat. Her shrill scream pierced the air while two men tried to pull the attacker away from her. Medics rushed towards her to help.

Then things took a turn for the worst when another man came stumbling out of the alley, attacking the cameraman. The tv screen went blank before the faces of the new reports in the studio filled the screen. Nobody said a thing, too shocked at what happened, and the audio that was still coming through from the field report. Screams filled the studio while someone tried to cut it off. "What the fuck is happening?" I whispered. The department was in complete and total shock and silence. We were in for a hell of a ride.

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swiss-mrs · 10 months ago

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Chapter Two: Rebel Tour

Life Eternal Series

Eddie Munson x Rockstar!POC!

Word Count: 3.5K

All writing is in second POV, but No Use of Y/N.

It’s been 2 months since the band’s stop in Indiana. You’ve called Eddie from every Hotel and Motel you’ve stopped in. Each call lasted no less than an hour. It never seemed like you ran out of things to say. Whether it was updates on your tour, or updates on his dreaded job search, you guys always had something to say to each other.

Your stop in Nashville was how you found out about his first guitar, an acoustic Wayne found at a garage sale for $15. Your stop in Atlanta was when you told him about your first performance, a middle school talent show. You were so nervous that you forgot the lyrics to the song you were performing. You can’t listen to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” the same anymore.

Your stop in Houston was when he shared his first crush, a cheerleader he met in middle school, and when you found out that it took him three tries to graduate. Dallas was where you shared that you dropped out in your freshman year. “I ended up getting my GED once the band had enough money to get comfortable.”

Denver is when you told him about your heart breaker phase as a teenager. “Well, that’s not hard to believe.” He would smile into the phone.

“Yeah, had all the curious chicks crawling to my door.” You’d tease back.

Phoenix was mainly spent talking about the vibe you were going for in the band’s next album. “I want to tell a story, you know? We’re two albums in, now, and I feel like it’s time to come out with something that embodies this current era of my life. I want to listen back on this album in 5 years and know exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling, hell, what I was eating in these very moments.”

L.A. and Sacramento were spent bouncing off ideas for the next album, coming up with concepts, even sharing quick, off-the-dome lyrics.

Your current stop is Seattle. You were posted up in Washington for a few days. All the band’s family and friends were here, so a point was made to allow time to visit loved ones. Earlier this day, you were able to see Mr and Mrs. Hemming, Marley’s parents. They were always such a loving, open-minded couple. They were the ones who took you in all those years ago. They were big hippies back in the day, huge Hendrix fans, so they never judged you and always made you feel welcome, like you belonged. They were the closest thing you had to a family, a home.

It’s been a good three days since you last talked to Eddie. You've yet to make the call from your Washington hotel room. Most of your time here was spent in bittersweet sentiment. You got to see people who cared and supported you, old faces, but it also brought back lots of unwelcome memories. Right now, you were huddled up in your lonely hotel room. It was fancy, basically a luxury one bedroom apartment. The tour budget had extra money for a nicer room since you were the only one needing to be housed on this stop.

You were laid out on the bed, the TV playing some random sitcom on low volume as background noise. You had been laying like this for at least an hour, staring into the void that is the golden lined ceiling. You let out a big sigh, and prop yourself up on your elbows. You glare at the TV, before caving in and grabbing the corded phone on the nightstand just left of you. You have his number memorized by now.

“Hello?” a raspy voice says.

“Eddie?” you ask a little confused.

“Superstar,” he says a bit more enthusiastically but still a bit groggy, “what’s up? Everything okay? How’s Seattle?” He asks, you can hear some shuffling around in the background. This is the point when you look over to the clock on the bedside table to your right. Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry. I didn’t realize what time it was.” It was midnight, 3AM his time. He chuckles.

“And here I am thinking you just wanted to hear my sexy morning voice.” He teases. For the first time ever, you are so glad you weren’t seeing each other in person. Your face burned. “What’s got you up so late? Were you out partying like an animal?” He asks sarcastically. You scoff.

“Yeah, partying like the world’s ending.” You reply, equally sarcastic. “I’m sorry,” you apologize earnestly, “I just wanted to talk with you, but I should’ve looked at the time before calling. I’ll let you go back to bed. Sorry.” You say, almost hanging up.

“Woah there. Hold on, now. I was just taking a little nap.” He lies, “I’m up. Let’s talk.” He says, more shuffling could be heard, probably him sitting up. “What’s on your mind, princess?” He ask, making your heart jump. You honestly don’t have much energy to tease him over the pet name. You sigh.

“Well, being back here, it's just,” you pause, “It’s bringing back a lot of memories, a lot of emotions I thought I left behind. In all honesty, I’m struggling here a little, Eds.” You admit, a bit shaky. There’s a short pause on his end.

“You want to tell me about it?” He asks gently. You pause, thinking.

“I don’t know. I don’t wanna bore you back to sleep.” You joke, deflecting.

“I’m listening.” He says without missing a beat, stern yet comforting. You sign and lay back down on your back, staring up at the ceiling again. For a few breaths, all that could be heard was staged laughter and shitty sitcom jokes from the TV.

“I’m not originally from Haven.” you start. “Growing up, I bounced around a lot. Home to home, state to state, until I eventually went out completely on my own and just kind of landed in Haven when I was 15… When I got there, I spent an entire year by myself. I found this small, abandoned neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was overgrown and pretty hidden, perfect for a runaway. I lived in the one house that still had most of its furniture and the least pests issues.” You chuckle. “I was getting so used to being by myself until one day I ran into this kid, this little girl with curly hair down to her knees. She didn’t look older than 12 years old, but she had flashy, bedazzled makeup and the cutest little sundress on.” You reminisce on the memory with a smile. “She was riding her bike around her trailer park and stopped when she saw me passing by. Told me her name was Marley, like Bob Marley. Said that her parents told her to always help someone who was in need, and told me that I looked like I needed a friend.” You laugh, hearing her childish voice clear as day in your mind. “Who knew that in that moment, my life would change forever. She would go on to introduce me to her parents, two hippies straight out the 70s, and her neighbor, this dark haired nerdy kid with glasses.” You couldn’t see it, but Eddie was smiling at your recounting of some sweet memories. “Charlie was so short back then. We’re the same age, but he didn’t even look older than Marley at that time. The little dweeb didn’t really hit puberty till we were 17.” You pause, smiling at the past. “Adam joined in after that, being somewhat of Charlie’s mentor and protector during the dork’s freshman year. We met Stacy when she was babysitting one of the other kids in the park. Adam had a crush on her from the start, but he was too shy. She knew, but she was playing hard to get.” You roll your eyes. “Somehow Rick weaseled his way to befriending Charlie, and the rest is history.” You pause, loads of memories of how far you’ve all come flashing in your mind all at once. You shake your head. “These are the memories I never want to forget. We built a family, you know? It's crazy to think about it. They’ve all been so important to me for so long that I forget I had a life before them.” You close your eyes.

“That’s beautiful, hun.” He says, sighing into the receiver.

“Yeah.” you say with a short laugh.

“But that’s not why you called me.” He says softly, knowing you have more to get off your chest.

“Yeah…” you trail.

“I’m here.” He says, trying to comfort best he could over the phone. You take a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you start back up, “good memories are not what I’m struggling with.” You clench your jaw, furrowing your brows in frustration. “Everything was going great after I met the band. We even became a damn near town legend. The satanic teens living out in the ghost town in the woods.” you state dramatically and laugh. “Everything was great, best I ever thought my life would get, until it got better.” A sad smile creeps into your face. “We used to hold ‘concerts’, if you could call them that, out in the woods. We called them ‘seances’, really leaning into the whole antichrist thing we had going on. We did it for three years. Some times we’d perform, other times we just threw parties. One day, Summer of ‘97, we were throwing an ‘End of Summer’ party. I met this girl.” you pause. “She was gorgeous. She had curly, blonde hair, big brown eyes, and this big, bucked tooth smile that lit up the world.” You smile the entire way, thinking back fondly, “She was so short and skinny and innocent looking. You would’ve never guessed she had such a powerful singing voice. She was perfect.” You sigh. “She was a theater kid with a dad who worked for this music production agency based in Seattle. She was insanely smart, and you could tell just by looking at her that she was really going places. That’s what really made her stand out from the hundred other kids there. She wore this oversized, black leather jacket, light wash jeans, and a hot pink top." Your eyes dance around the ceiling as you remember the details of that night. “Me being me. I toyed with her my entire performance. I was desperate to get her to notice me, but I wanted to play it off like she was just another pretty face in the crowd. I was really driving that heartbreaker thing I was going with.” You laugh. “I don’t know how, but my little facade worked. Turns out she had a little sister around Marley’s age, Peyton. Man, that little girl was a riot. She matched Marley’s wild energy perfectly… Somehow the stars aligned for my ratty ass, and I got the girl, against all odds.” you chuckle dryly. Your eyes begin to sadden as you pause, running through the end of that story. “I just… couldn’t keep her…” You feel your eyes begin to burn and your nose tickle. You huff a humorless laugh from your nose, shaking your head, frowning.

“You alright, hun?” Eddie breaks your silence. You breathe in sharply, getting your bad thoughts and pushing them aside.

“Yeah, I just… hm…” you sigh, trying to gather yourself. “Mariana.” You pause again, a name once so familiar, now almost feeling foreign on your tongue. “That was her name… She was someone I thought was going to be my forever person, you know… But things change. People. People… change. I was young and naive. I should’ve known better than anyone that things too good to be true don’t last, at least not for me. I feel so incredibly lucky I’ve even made it this far with the amazing people I have.”

“It’s not luck.” He interjects. “It’s talent. You deserve it.” He brings back, “Remember, that’s what you said to me when we first met.” he pauses, “People… People like us? We don’t get by on luck. We get by because we work for what we deserve. Sometimes, when we get what we’ve been aiming for, it doesn’t feel deserved. It feels like luck, but not this time. You are the reason for your success. You’ve earned it, babe. Don’t sell yourself short for that.” He speaks earnestly. You laugh.

“Maybe one day I’ll believe that, Eds. Things haven’t always been this high. I haven’t always done this well. I’ve fallen, Eddie, hard and flat on my face, and I’ve nearly fucked up everything for everyone else. I don’t know if I can confidently say I’m completely out of the pit, now, but I’m definitely not where I was. I’m glad you didn’t have to see me at my worst.” You confess. There’s a silence between you two. It doesn’t last long, but it lasts long enough for you to get nervous and doubt whether you should've said what you said.

“That don’t change my mind about you, kid.” Eddie’s voice rings through, determined. “You… I… You and I have more in common…” He sighs, trying to find the word. “Look, I get you. I see you. I hear you, and I will never judge you.” He says truthfully. “I’m here for you, always and forever. I hope you understand that.” You smile sadly. “I will always be there. I’m here to support your right and wrongs.” He jokes, bringing a small laugh out of you. “And I promise to be here for you whenever you need, whether that's a shoulder to cry on or an alibi.” He smiles through the phone.

“Oh my god, I didn’t kill anyone.” You interrupt, laughing.

“I’m just sayin’” He laughs back, “I got a shovel and a van whenever you need, babe.” You share a good laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You continue as the laughter dies down, “Thank you, Eddie… really.” You pour out, hoping your sincerity and gratitude come through the phone clearly. He lets ou a soft chuckle.

“I gotchu.” He yawns out, causing you to yawn as well. He chuckles, “I think you should get some rest, superstar.” He says gently. You turn to look at the clock again, its passed 1AM. You sigh.

“Probably.” you yawn again. “I love talking with you, Eddie.” He smiles on the other end of the call.

“Me too. I was starting to get a little nervous there. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. As soon as we got here, we performed, then after that, I went around with the band and saw old friends. Today was the first day I had to myself and it was really getting me down. Sorry, again, to call and wake you with blues.” You pout, he chuckles tiredly.

“No problem. I’m glad you called. Will you be there for much longer?”

“Well, this is our last stop on the tour. Final show is tomorrow… or tonight.” you correct. Eddie scoffs.

“You really need to rest then-”

“Yeah, I know. I know.” You cut in. “Hey, are you gonna be busy in three weeks?” There’s a pause.

“Uh… I don’t think so…?”

“Good, come out to New York to visit me. We can do some proper song writing, finally.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know about that, sweetheart.” He says. Your brows furrow. “I mean, I’m still job hunting and, you know, I gotta help Wayne out as best as I can, and I don’t know if I can make that trip happen.” He stumbles awkwardly.

“Nonsense. Just keep your schedule free, I gotchu.” You say, mimicking his words from earlier. You can’t see it, but his sleepy brain is struggling to pick up what you're putting down. “Get back to sleep, rockstar. I’ll talk to you later, alright?” Right on queue, he yawns. “Stop that!” you yawn back. He laughs.

“Alright, alright. Talk later.” He says with a smile.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Superstar.”

》》》

Three days pass after your last conversation with Eddie. You had given Eddie a call the morning after your final show before you left your hotel. “Tour’s finally over! I’m flying back out to New York this afternoon.” You would tell him. You would talk for the entire morning until you received a knock on your door to let you know that the car was there to take you to the airport. You promised to call him when you got settled back home.

“You got mail, Ed!” Wayne called out to him from the living room. Eddie hops up from his desk and out of the stiff chair.

“Coming!” He swings open his door and walks down the hall to find Wayne in the kitchen sorting through envelopes.

“From someone named ‘Superstar’?” He says as Eddie grabs the envelope off the counter.

“Thanks, old man.” Eddie grins widely and walks to the living room, plopping down on the squeaky couch. He rips the envelope open with his dull pocket knife, flipping the envelope over and pulling out its contents. He stills in shock.

“Everything alright?” Wayne pipes up, realizing Eddie freezes. He holds up two plane tickets with his name on them and a thick paper check addressed to ‘Wayne Munson’. Wayne’s brows crease, enhancing the wrinkles on his forehead. “What’s that?”

“I gotta make a call.” Eddie says abruptly. He hops up off the couch and runs to his bedroom, half closing the door just as he picks up the phone, he pauses. “Shit!” He says as he realizes you’ve never called him from your house before. He doesn’t have your number. “Shit!”

“What?!” Wayne yells from the kitchen.

“Nothing-” he’s cut off by a ring. Eddie puts the headset down and picks it back up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Rockstar.” Your voice comes through the line. He yells your name. “What? You get your mail, finally?” He yells your name again, causing you to laugh.

“You couldn’t possibly be serious right now!” He yells into the headset, looking down at the mail in his hands.

“Don’t be mad, but I couldn’t just stand by as you and your uncle struggle. Plus, you promised to help me write this album. No take backsies.” Eddie is speechless, yet again. He says your name a bit softer this time.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just don’t miss your flight, pretty boy.” You say, smile evident in your worlds. He chuckles in disbelief, shaking his head.

“It’s already paid for. There’s no going back.” he said.

“Exactly.” You respond.

“Thank you, truly. I can’t thank you enough.”

“No need. I’m here for you just as you are here for me. I’m just grateful to be in a position where I can finally give back to those who give to me.” You say truthfully with a smile. Your smile is contagious through the phone, Eddie’s face breaks out in a huge smile. Wayne leans back curiously to get a glimpse at Eddie down the hall and through his cracked door. He gives Eddie a confused look. Eddie gave him an ‘okay’ sign with a big smile. Wayne nods, leaning back up and busying himself in the kitchen.

“You know, you’re too good to me, princess.” He chuckles. You giggle, blushing on the other end of the line. Eddie can almost see it.

“See you soon, pretty boy.” Eddie’s bright smile grows impossibly wider, hurting his cheeks.

“See you soon.” You both hang up at the same time. As soon as the phone is down, he jumps up and down like a madman, nearly hitting his head on the low ceilings in his room. He runs out of his room, startling his uncle at the burst of energy. Eddie hugs the older man in a big bear hug, grabbing his balding head and plants a kiss on the top of it. Wayne, completely bewildered, looks at Eddie like he’s grown two heads.

“Boy, what is going on?” He asks suspiciously. Eddie holds up the tickets and check for Wayne to get a good look at them. Wayne furrows his brows as he reads what's on the pieces of paper.

“I can’t accept this, Ed.”

“Listen, the angel who sent this to us is more stubborn than me, so you’ll have an easier time just taking the check and using it to pay those.” he points to the growing stack of overdue bills. Wayne looks back at the envelopes adorned with red writing. He sighs, giving in. Eddie hands him the check.

“If she’s as stubborn as you say, good luck.” He takes the check from Eddie’s hand and grabs his coat and keys, “I’ll be back.” He says before heading out. Eddie watches him leave through the screen door. As soon as he’s driven away, Eddie starts jumping up and down again, letting out a gleeful cheer.

“Thank you.” He says, giving a kiss to the plane tickets.

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