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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months

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Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

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You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

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wonwoosthetic · 4 months

Note

Hi! So I have a newer idea for Daryl that popped up in my mind while shopping today. It's 100% okay if you don't want to write this, though! It is kind of long so I completely understand if you don't feel like writing this 💜

Basically, Daryl meets reader, aka Shane's fiancé, at the quarry and could instantly notice how toxic Shane was to her. She wasn't allowed to really talk to any of the guys in the camp and was forced to do most of the laundry to keep her from interacting with the rest of the group. However, one day while Shane's off doing you-know-what with Lori, Dale sends reader to go hunt with Daryl with a compound bow that he'd found. To Daryl's surprise, she's amazing at hunting and they have a little convo about Shane. They then stumble across Shane and Lori going at it like rabbits but silently retreat, not making a scene. Back at the camp, when Shane returns, reader simply just places the ring back in his hand and tells him they're over. Being free to do what she wants, she starts getting closer with Daryl over the next month or so, and when they get to the CDC, her and Daryl have this cute moment with a few people watching them and then Glenn, in his drunken stupor, makes a comment about what a cute couple they are. Cue the sudden realizations from both sides that they like each other. Can end with a confession or not. <33

a/n – first of all, to everyone who reads this: you better check Krys out! I am absolutely IN LOVE with everything she writes (Daryl and Hazel is my favourite but literally everything is a masterpiece!) second: to get a request from one of my favourite authors on this app here is an ABSOLUTE HONOUR and I truly truly hope that I could somehow reach your expectations!!!! Thank you so much for sending me it, and I really hope you and everyone that reads this enjoys it ˙ᵕ˙ thank you for marking my start in writing for Daryl now too!😊

A little side note: surprise, I still can’t write short stuff, but bc tumblr is a bitch and is messing with long stuff I post, I decided to make 2 parts, so I can truly involve everything I planned, I hope that’s okay!!🤍🤍

masterlist

word count – 7.4k

pairing – daryl dixon x fem!reader, shane walsh x ex!fem!reader (rarely)

warnings – cursing, mentions of sex, infidelity, toxic man

Don‘t Talk To Strangers Or You Might Fall In Love – Pt. 1

Later in the evening, the women gathered down at the quarry once again. With each holding onto a basket of some sort, carrying the laundry of the rest of the camp residents, they had found their usual spot by the water. Their hands were already starting to get wrinkly by the amount of clothes they had to wash - it had only been a couple of days, and there was already a pile of it.

A wince from the oldest woman of the group made all three heads snap towards her, their eye following her carefully.

"Everything okay?" Jacqui asked, stopping mid-movement before she set down the soaked t-shirt she was holding.

Carol was quick to brush off her concerned tone, sending the woman a quick tight smile as she re-adjusted her position on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she cleared her throat. "Just... a stone."

The other women shared a quick knowing look. Yes, the surface they were sitting on was mostly stone, but not enough to get hurt or even wince the way Carol just did. She must've hit one of her bruises against the hard ground. One of the many that decorated her skin. While some of them she had clearly been able to hide underneath her clothing, the women couldn't help but notice the ones on her arms. And while some seem to fade, it didn't take much longer for new ones to appear just a day later.

"You know," Amy jumped into the conversation. "You... you don't have to share a tent with him." Everybody immediately knowing, who she meant. "You could stay in the RV, or-"

"I'm okay, Amy. Please." Carol's tone made the younger woman stop again, going right back to the task at hand. While you had hoped you'd go back to finish off your work in silence, Jaqui had other plans as she raised the volume of her voice to reach you, who was sitting a little further off.

"Well, speaking of shitty husbands." Getting a scoff out of the older woman. "Where's Shane, Y/N?" A chuckle erupted from Amy.

"Huh?" Your head shot up at the mention of his name. You found three awaiting pairs of eyes fixed on you, sending an uncomfortable rush down your spine.

"Where's your husband?" Amy repeated the question, her voice holding a slightly more gentle tone.

"He's not my husband. Just... fiancé." You shrugged. "I don't know...," mumbling as you were almost too embarrassed to admit. "He said something about going hunting."

Jacqui let out an annoyed huff of air. "That was hours ago. It's getting dark soon, doesn't he think-"

"I trust him to know how to keep himself safe. He knows what he's doing," you told her mindlessly, pouring the now dirty water back into the river in front of you.

You knew how most of the group felt about Shane. He had declared himself as the leader of your little group, thinking his status as a sheriff made him the right fit despite some of the eye-rolls and annoyed sighs it had gotten from the rest in return. It didn't seem to bother him, not even a little bit. You had tried to defend him, wanting to explain his plan of action and knowledge to the others, but he had shushed you down quickly. His own stance was enough for him to stand in front of the group of people, promising to lead them well and try to figure out how to move forward in the, what you'd now call, apocalypse.

While he was securing his place as the tough leader, commanding each person around and giving them a set role in the group, you had tried to find a sense of community. If you were to go and travel further with these people, might as well try to create some form of comradery. But that was brought to a halt before you could even truly start. By Shane.

'They're not your friends. They're just random people. We don't know them and we don't gotta know them.' He had told you. You had tried to start an argument, wanting to explain that while you didn't know most of them just yet, you might as well start now if you're going to spend more time in an enclosed area with them.

'Let's keep an eye out for Lori and Carl. She just lost her husband, for God's sake.' He never really explained just how he knew that Rick was officially dead, but the two members of the Grimes family seemed to be his only concern. The fact that you had known Glenn for a while now and considered him a close friend, almost a younger brother, didn't even register with him. He was just 'another dirty man, just like the rest of them' to Shane. He had made his opinion of the members of your group very clear. They're strangers. If it wasn't about Lori and Carl, it wasn't important. Why you were the one washing their clothes though was still beyond you though.

Jacqui was just about to open her mouth again, not wanting to drop the topic of conversation just yet, but a loud voice from up the quarry got your attention.

"Ya just don't give a shit, ya old bastard!" Daryl's uncanny accent echoed through the open area.

While a deep sigh tumbled from Carol's lips, Amy tried to ignore the fight a few feet away from you and Jacqui shook her head.

"These Dixon brothers, I swear to God... I don't understand why we haven't made them leave yet."

"Daryl's a good hunter," Amy commented quietly with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, and selfish," the older woman spat back, "And Merle? He's nothing but dragging everyone here down."

You decided to leave the scene in silence, not wanting to add anything to the conversation. You believed that everyone had a good reason for acting and behaving the way they were. You'd like to think that your good nature was part of the reason why Shane fell in love with you. Your years of dealing with children coming from troubled families had taught you that there's mostly good in almost everyone, just that most hadn't had the chance to find that side of them yet. In some ways, the Dixon brothers' attitudes reminded you of them.

Back in the camp, you brought the washing bowl back to where the rest of the clean laundry was already hanging to dry. Before you could go any further, hoping to find some alone time in your tent, Dale's voice made you stop.

"Y/N!"

You looked up at the top of his RV, where he had secured a chair, a small table and an umbrella to keep the sun from frying his skin.

"Hey, Dale," you smiled at the older man, who copied your facial expression. While some had come to find him to be a 'typical grumpy old man' - and by some you mean Shane - you and Dale had gotten closer over the short time you had spent in the group. He reminded you of your dad, who at that point in time was God knows where. You hoped he found a group similar to yours and was trying to find his place in the world you would now be living in.

"You know how to use a bow and arrow, right?" He asked you, remembering the story you had told him.

You nodded, shielding your eyes with one hand as the sun was starting to make them hurt. "My dad taught me a little, why?"

"Look what I found," he grinned before turning around to pick something up. He crouched down, now with a compound bow in his grip as he tried to get it down to you. With quick steps, you got closer, your eyes brightening up at the sight.

"Oh my god... Dale!" Your smile only widened once you got your hands on the bow. You let your hand glide over the metal, finding it to be heavier than expected. It was still in perfect condition, but you couldn't even finish admiring it before your eyes found another item being dropped down at you.

"Those were next to it," Dale added as he handed you a bag holding multiple arrows that were hopefully supposed to go with the bow. He watched your smile as you couldn't take your eyes off the archery tool. "You think you know how to handle that thing?"

"I mean... my dad taught me how to use a longbow, but... can't be that hard, right?"

The older man couldn't even answer you as a scoff erupted from behind you, followed by the familiar scruff voice of Darly.

"Ya think it's that easy." Stating it more than wondering. Knowing not to start a conversation with him unless truly needed, only able to imagine how Shane would react if he found you talking to him, you decided to ignore his comment, focusing back on Dale who seemed to have done the same.

"Where did you find it?" You asked him.

"Oh just... from a house a few minutes away. Thought you could use it."

"I don't know when yet, but... I'll try," you smiled at him.

"How about you go and try it out now?" He suddenly asked you.

His question made your head shoot back up to look at him in wonder. "Now? What do you mean?"

He sighed. "It's gonna get dark soon and Shane and Lori aren't back yet, we should try-"

"Lori?" Her name fell from your lips as you glanced around the area, only finding the youngest Grimes sitting in the grass, entertaining himself with some sticks and stones. "Where is she?"

Dale shrugged. "Said something about finding berries and whatnot-" Another scoff from behind you made him stop to shoot Daryl an annoyed glance. "I think we should try to at least get something to eat for the kids. And if they're not back anytime soon, they won't have dinner."

"What? My huntin' skills ain't enough for you, old man?" The younger Dixon brother shot up from his crouched position on the floor, nudging his head up at Dale, who was clearly annoyed by his attitude.

"A squirrel isn't gonna feed an entire group. Take Y/N with you and try finding something."

"Dale-"

"Shane's not here, honey," he immediately stopped you, apparently already knowing what your argument would be. "I think he'll be okay, knowing you were out finding something to eat for the kids."

"That asshole would rather watch 'em kids die than send her huntin' with any of us!" Daryl spat back, ignoring you standing right next to him.

He turned your head towards him. "Don't talk about him like that." Speaking to him in a much softer tone than he just did, only getting a shake of his head and an annoyed mumble in return before he turned his back towards you, making his way towards the woods. A quick glance back up at Dale made him nudge his head towards the direction the archer had just disappeared into. You could either get sulky and refuse to go with the man who had clearly other interests than to go hunting with you or you could be the bigger person and focus on bringing something into the community. Even if that meant rebelling against your partner's order to stay at the camp and focusing on the laundry in the quarry. You decided on the latter, knowing that he'd find something to get annoyed at one way or another.

With a sigh, you nodded to Dale's proposal and swung the bag of arrows over your shoulder. Turning around to follow the way Daryl had just strutted, your eyes found his silhouette already between the trees. It was uncanny. Anyone could tell it was him. His zero-fucks attitude and his arms just casually hanging by his side- The pop of his hips with each step he took just underlined the sass that man possessed almost making you chuckle.

Unlike a lot of the other members of the group, you didn't necessarily dislike him. His brother was a totally different subject. They were difficult to deal with and most definitely not the teamwork type of personalities - not directly at least. You had noticed the multiple times Daryl would vanish from sight, only to come back a few hours later with a few dead squirrely thrown over his shoulder, that he would then give to the group after skinning them. It was absolutely disgusting, to say the least, but he did his part to be a valuable part of the community, even if he might had been a unique character and more challenging to deal with.

What Merle's issue was, you had yet to discover, but the man didn't intrigue you enough to bore into his background story.

A good few minutes in, you still hadn't caught up with the archer, his steps being way bigger and faster than yours. Panting, you hoped he would hear you.

"Can you slow down for a second? Please."

Not following your words, Daryl kept up his pace, only turning his head slightly. "Don't need yer husband to see us together out'ere or we'll be the ones rotatin' over the fire instead of a dear."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, even scoffing loudly at what you had just heard, and mumbling too quietly for him to hear.

Your reaction made him suddenly stop in his tracks and turn his entire body towards you. "What? Ya think I'm kiddin'? I seen the way he talks to ya and everyone else in that godforsaken camp. Treats everyone like shit if it ain' abou' that woman or the kid."

Your glare didn't even intimidate him a bit. Neither did he budge when you took a daring step closer to him.

"How about you focus on yourself and stay out of other people's business? He's trying to be a leader, alright?"

"More like tryna be a dictator. Mussolini woulda loved him." Without another word, he turned around to continue his way further into the woods, leaving you in slight surprise rooted into the ground. A shake of your head and a deep breath brought you back into the present, making you follow him again. You tried to keep the distance between big enough to keep him away from you, let close enough to still have him in view - you sure as hell weren't going to get lost in the middle of the woods.

Looking down to be careful about each step you took, you held onto the strap across your chest. With your view on the ground, you didn't notice Daryl having stopped again, making you suddenly bump into him.

"Oh- sorry." You took a quick jump back.

He had lifted up his arm to the side, keeping you from going any further. Only after looking up, you could follow his gaze, finding what had gotten the archer so enthralled. Between the bushes surrounding you ahead on a tree, there were two chipmunks perked up on a branch. They hadn't noticed you yet and if it hadn't been for Daryl's eagle eye, you had to admit, you would've overlooked them as well.

Suddenly, overly confident, you realised this was the moment you could prove your skill. A skill you hadn't trained for in a few months, but you had long enough training before that, you believed. Swiftly, you grabbed a bow from the bag on your back and took a slow step back, careful not to make any loud noise to disrupt the two animals. Daryl had his crossbow already sitting on his shoulder, his eye trained on the chipmunks as he kept totally still.

"On three," you whispered as you drew the bow in your grip. You couldn't see the archer's slight confusion as he didn't budge, only knowing he had heard you when he suddenly started counting down. As soon as the number 'three' left his lips, you let your arrow shoot through the sky, him going at the exact same time, pressing the trigger on his crossbow. The two bows hit the chipmunks perfectly in sync, making them fall from the branch and onto the floor.

"Yes!" You whispered to yourself in a cheer, brushing past Daryl with a wide smile on your face as you made your way over to where your prey was waiting for you.

The man continued to stand still, only his eyes following your movements as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Only a few seconds later, he found you standing up straight again, proudly holding up one of the chipmunks. He followed your steps, coming to a stop as he looked down at the other animal still on the floor.

"Was that beginner's luck or...?" He asked you as he gathered it off the ground and took out his arrow before taking its companion out of your hands to put both of them into the small bag he had secured by his hips. Your eyes drifted to his arms. Glistening in the sun behind you. He had been collecting dirt all over his body, but the sweat now on his biceps was making it look only half as bad.

You shrugged, not even trying to hide the small smile still on your lips. "Maybe a little since I haven't used one of these in a while," holding up the compound bow.

"Who taught ya?" In surprise, you glanced at him, not expecting to continue the conversation as you went back to resume your hunting journey through the woods.

"My dad."

You noticed his steps suddenly slowing down again, making you turn towards him in wonder. A finger brought up to his lips told you everything you needed to know. Daryl started looking around carefully, while you just turned in a circle, wondering what he had heard. And then you saw it. A 'geek', as Glenn had labelled them, was making its way towards you.

"How on earth did you hear that?" You whispered at him, but the archer just propped his crossbow up again, ready to take out the thing coming dangerously close towards you. The noises coming from the dead had only then started to register with you too. Maybe it was your hearing turning on you or maybe Daryl had just a trained ear. Realising that he was close to shooting again, you stopped him with a hand.

"Can I?"

With a careful look, he lowered his weapon again, motioning for you to go ahead, bringing a small grin to your face. His hand was quicker than yours as he pulled out a bow from your bag, handing it over to you before leaving you to do your thing. Drawing it tightly, you didn't let a lot more seconds pass before sending the arrow straight through the geek's eye.

"Fuck, yeah-" Grinning to yourself for a split second before you realised the words that had dropped from your tongue. "Sorry," you were quick to apologise, getting a look of pure confusion from Daryl in return.

"What? Ya not allowed to curse or somethin'?" Oh, if he only knew. After years of being with Shane, you had found yourself truly swearing off the usage of any curse words as your fiancé had labelled them 'unladylike', sending you a look of disapproval each time it would escape you accidentally. Strict looks had turned into warnings, which then turned into arguments, so you had just learned to bite your tongue.

You were about to head up to get it back, back Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Stay'ere." He walked past you towards the now truly dead thing to get your arrow back. After ripping it out of its head again, he took a good look around, turning his entire body before coming back to you.

"They're usually not alone," he pushed the arrow into your hands. "Let's see what else we can find and get the hell outta 'ere before it gets dark."

You just nodded in agreement before following him again. This time, you noticed walking side by side with him as he had slowed down his strides.

To you, it seemed like a relatively comfortable silence, but Daryl didn't agree with that apparently as his grunt slashed through it,

"Yer husband know you can hunt?"

A sigh evidently fell from your lips, but you were able to hold back a roll of your eyes. He was trying to keep up the conversation and you couldn't not admit that you quite enjoyed not necessarily having to walk in complete silence. Even if it meant talking about Shane apparently.

"Don't know," you shrugged.

"What d'ya mean, ya don't know? Yer never talked about that? Ain't he supposed to know ya inside out or some shit like that?" You knew, deep down his words held nothing but truth, yet, you had learned to ignore remarks like that, knowing that Shane was just a different kind of partner than most.

"Why should he know about something he's not interested in?" As long as you weren't out on your own and at home in the evening with a homecooked meal waiting for him, he had never truly cared about what you did. Lying, you'd be out with your friends for a few hours while doing something completely different had gotten you far. Him working late hours most days only helped. You never even thought about telling him about the childhood hobby you had started at 8 years old and had carried with you up until well into adulthood. While you had left home as soon as you had turned 18, knowing Atlanta was the place you'd want to study in, archery was one of the things that had kept you connected to home. To your dad.

"That don't sound righ' if ya ask me," he commented.

"Well," you couldn't help but sigh again, "good thing he's not your issue to worry about."

"But he is." His comment made you stop. Daryl was quick to notice you not walking beside him anymore, making him stop and turn. "I gotta worry about him havin' my balls on a stick if he sees me talkin' to ya."

"Then don't!"

"Then why d'ya follow me into the woods, huh?" It looked like you were about to start a fight with Daryl Dixon.

"Because Dale asked me to. Because no one trusts you to do anything good for the group on your own," you spat at him, continuing your way, making sure to bump his shoulder as you passed him.

The archer scoffed, "Yeah because everyone trusts ya lil' husband oh so much to care for every-"

You came to another halt. "He's not my husband! We're engaged, you ignorant fuck!"

"Oh, careful," Daryl eyed you, "What would'e say if he heard ya talkin' like that, huh?" Sending you a provocative look that made you take a deep breath in, trying to contain your anger.

"I think you got a brother to worry about, Dixon. Enough drama there, don't snoop into other people's lives."

That seemed to have done the job as he kept quiet while you walked ahead. It took a few seconds before you heard him behind you again, proud of yourself for leaving him stunned even if it was just for a short moment. You didn't want to snap at him like that, you had to admit. It just came out and if you could take it back, you would've. He wasn't directly snooping, you knew that. You weren't here to make enemies, at least you didn't want to. You desperately wanted to get along with everyone as best as possible. Not meaning that you'd have to become close friends with each person in the group, just good colleagues.

With your mind deep in thought, overthinking every word you had just dropped, you didn't notice the ruffling leaves close by. Not until you felt a tug on your arm that made you stop. Almost annoyed, you turned around, only to find Daryl lifting his finger to his lips, telling you to keep quiet. At first, you looked at him in confusion but the moment you heard a grunt, your ears perked up as you started to glance around. You had just ran into a geek with the Dixon brother reminding you that they usually travelled in bigger groups, meaning the possibility of another one being close by wasn't that small.

The grunting continued making your frown only deepen. It didn't necessarily sound like one of the dead, you realised. Daryl started moving around slowly and as quietly as possible, you following close behind, keeping ducked down just in case.

Suddenly, you caught another noise. One that sounded less like a grunt and more like a... moan? Clearly just as confused as you, the archer turned around to meet your gaze for a split second.

With each step the two of you took further, the noises became much clearer. Shuffling leaves, grunts, and clear moans were now hitting your ear. One specific huff of air made a cold shiver run down your spine. It's like your body knew before your eyes could even see it.

Daryl and you hit a raised ground that kept you from seeing where the noise was coming from as you were still crouched down. But as soon as you let your back straighten, every last bit of air left your lungs. You saw the auburn hair spread out on the grass first. Directly next to it, an all too familiar head of black curls, the face deep in her neck, muting the moans coming from him. With each pound, they became heavier and louder. You already knew it. Right as Shane lifted his head though, you could feel yourself wanting to scream. And if it wasn't for the hand suddenly covering your mouth, you would've.

You were pulled onto the ground, back into your crouched position, and dragged back from where you came from. As hard as you tried to fight the grip the archer had on you, it was no use as he was clearly much stronger than you. The leaves and branches brushed against your pants as he kept tugging on you to keep you right up against him, not daring to loosen the hand covering your lip

Once it seemed far away enough for him, Daryl let go of you, letting you fall to the ground completely as you desperately choked up for air.

"You bastard-" You went at him, only for him to cover your mouth once again.

He pulled you in hard. "Ya screamin' 'ere and an entire hoard will hear ya. Keep quiet," he hissed at you in a whisper. You never noticed the soft specks of green that decorated his striking blue eyes. Not until then.

A quick moment of silence followed as your eyes suddenly filled with tears. Daryl's gaze softened immediately, removing his hand from you as if your skin had turned into burning hot metal.

While you had started to sob in the middle of the woods, trying to keep as quiet as possible, the archer didn't know what else to do, but to stand next to you, his eyes fixed on your shaking shoulders. He wasn't the right person to console someone. Nor did he even know how.

"I told ya he's an asshole," he mumbled, clearly not at the right moment as you sent him an angry frown.

"You didn't tell me sh-"

"I tried tellin' ya!" Raising his voice just a bit to turn his tone stern, yet keeping the volume low enough. "I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son."

"I want to go back," you sniffled, feeling your chest painfully tightening.

"Go back to 'em?!"

"Back to the camp, idiot!" You snapped at him, your hand flying up to your chest. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up." Trying to take deep breaths in that just continuously proved to be hard as you only choked up more. Coughing mixed with your sobs, you fell onto your knees, your hand clutching the very top of your chest as you tried to breathe.

"Hey-" Daryl fell onto the ground right in front of you, his rough hands grabbing you by your shoulders to pull you straight, trying to get you to look at him. "Calm down," he strictly told you.

"H-He-" you sobbed, "he... fucked her. He just-", coughing again as the air got stuck in your throat.

"I know- hey-" you lowered your head to look at the ground beneath you, only for Darly to grab your chin and make you look back up again. "He's a fuckin' idiot. Don't cry 'bout him."

"W-What did I do?" You asked, technically hypothetically, as you continued to choke on your own cries. "What do- How?!"

"Ya didn't do anythin'," he tried to console you. "He's a dumb fuckin' bastard. A coward. A stupid mongo-"

"Lori... I-I thought-," stopping yourself again as another sob shot through your body.

"It's okay," Daryl whispered, "don't fuckin' cry for 'em. Ya think they would cry for ya?"

"What about Carl?!" You ignored his comment, instead continuing to throw out whatever came to your head.

The archer shook his head, "That ain' your problem to worry 'bout."

"She- she just lost her husband... a-and now this?!"

Before Daryl could say anything, you brushed off his hands from your shoulders and raked yourself up.

Still sniffling, you looked around. "We gotta go back." Noticing that the sun had already started to set and no one was supposed to be out in the dark.

With a grunt, he copied you, pushing himself up to stand again while his eyes continued to follow you as you tried to get yourself back together. You could feel his gaze burning holes into your skin, making you look up. Cheeks tears stained, burning read. Your eyes were swollen, still letting single drops of tears escape as you slowly managed to even out your breathing.

"Let's go back." You re-secured the bag and bog on your shoulder before turning around to walk to the camp. A sigh escaped Daryl's lips as he shook his head slightly before jogging up towards you, stopping you with his hands back on your shoulders. He swiftly turned you around, only to let go again, his steps slowing down to let you walk ahead. This time, in the right direction.

The way back was spent mostly in silence, only a few remarks coming from the archer each time he had to tell you to either turn right or left. In no time, you had come back, finding most of the group either already back in their tents or gathered by the SUV. The sun had fully set, now the only source of natural light coming from the soft glow of the moon.

"There you are!" Dale called out as soon as his eyes found you. The smile that had started to spread on his lips fell quickly as soon as you got close enough to him to let him see the dishevelled state you were in. "What happened?" He gasped, but you just shook your head and made a quick B-turn towards your tent. The tent you shared with Shane.

The older man's tone changed quickly, clearly blaming one specific person for your mood as he followed behind you not much later.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dale snapped at Daryl, only to get a scoff in return.

"How abou' you ask her asshole fiancé." The Dixon brother left him with that, ignoring the looks of the people around them. He opened his satch to take out the two chipmunks you had caught, only to throw them onto a set-up table and disappear down towards the quarry.

In the comfort of the plastic walls, with the bow and arrows set down outside, you had let yourself let go one more time, the tears not needing more than mere seconds before running down your cheeks again. You couldn't continue crying about this.

'Ya think they would cry for ya?'

Daryl's words rang through your mind. You hated to admit that he was most probably right.

Your relationship with Shane wasn't tense. At least until a few months ago. It had always been a little bit more difficult than you would've liked to, but you remembered the words of your mother, saying 'marriage is hard', making you realise that most likely each couple had their fair share of issues to work through. And you and Shane seemed to just have a good amount of those. Either disagreements, discussions, or different ideas and wants. Everything from as simple as the colour of your living room walls, to which state you'd have your wedding in - since your grandma was almost bedridden, you had proposed to have at least the officiant ceremony in Ohio, but Shane was, surprise, against that.

You glanced down at your ring. A gold band, holding a small square diamond right in the middle. It was beautiful. Even though you had always solely worn silver jewellery and had mentioned the classic round diamond as your dream style. Still, you had accepted the proposal. You looked past the smirks he would send waitresses and secretaries. Ignored comments he made about other people in your life. You had even given in and promised him not to get too close to anyone in the group that was right outside.

It was never 'controlling' in your eyes. You didn't know any better. But while you had to lock yourself away, making doing laundry your only form of 'entertainment', he was having fun with a presumed widow. Whereas he had told you and everyone else that he would be spending the day trying to hunt down 'something big'.

You shook your head. You had all the reasons to leave him already months ago and yet you didn't. A lot of your friends had told you you'd regret marrying him. But he had managed to get into your head, making you think that they were the crazy ones. That all of your 'dumb sorority girlfriends' had no idea what they were talking about.

Comments and stares were one thing you could look past, but cheating... you had to draw the line somewhere. You remembered all the times your college friends came crying into the dorm, sobbing into their pillows as they complained about their boyfriends fucking around with other girls on campus. Everyone would gather and support them with one opinion: dump him. Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.

'I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son.'

There was Daryl's voice again in the back of your head. Screaming at you. If even he could see it, yet you were too blind to realise it...

With one final deep breath in, you gathered the sleeping bag you had claimed for yourself into your arms, along with your pillow. You managed to drag everything out of the tent, suddenly feeling more free than ever.

Looking around, you found no one sitting outside anymore, indicating most had gone to bed, but the light inside the RV made you hopeful. You couldn't sleep in your shared tent tonight. Or ever again. And Dale was your only other choice. With everything packed in your arms, you made your way over to the vehicle, knocking on the door with your foot. Two voices made you look behind you, your face immediately falling when you found Shane and Lori coming back from the woods. They took their goddamn time.

The door opened, catching your attention again. Dale looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Forget about your age. Suddenly, you felt like a little kid again. Too scared to sleep on their own, begging their parents to let them sleep in their room.

"Y/N?" Shane's rough voice called out your name, making your heartbeat quicken.

You looked up at the older man in panic. "Please."

With no hesitation, Dale nodded, stepping aside to let you walk in, ushering you inside with his hand. Daryl's remark from earlier had engraved itself in his brain as soon as he found the sheriff strutting over to his RV in big steps.

"What is she doing, Dale?" He wondered, his voice holding slight anger to it. "Y/N!" He shouted out your name again, but you gave him no response.

The older man stopped Shane from coming any closer.

"You better leave, son."

"What the fuck did I do?!" He unknowingly asked before getting the RV's door closed in his face.

The moment silence took over the enclosed room, Dale turned to you, now sitting on the small sofa.

"What the fuck did he do?"

If there was one person in this apocalyptic world that you had come to trust, it was Dale. He had already let you into his home, he deserved to get a reason for it.

You could already feel the tears filling your eyes again. Both of you ignored the knocks on the door, the old man's eyes fixed solely on you as he sat down by the small dining table, ready to wait patiently for you to answer his question.

"He... he cheated on me...," You couldn't hold back the sob that followed. "With Lori." The added remark made Dale's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He leaned back into his chair, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair as he huffed out a chunk of air.

"Daryl and I- we saw them in the woods-," You let your head fall into the palms of your hand. The old man was quick back on his feet, on his way over to you.

"Oh, honey," sighing out, but stopping as the heavy knocks on the door continued. With an annoyed huff, he rushed over to the door to pull it open.

"Get the fuck away from my RV!" Shouting at Shane, not even giving him a moment to answer as he smashed the door close again.

"I-I don't know what to do." You admitted in sobs, glancing up at the man as he got closer to you, making space to sit down next to you. A comforting arm found its way around your shoulder while his other hand rubbed your upper arm.

"That man doesn't deserve an angel like you," he whispered at you, hoping his calming voice would soothe your cries. "He clearly doesn't know what he lost with a stupid act like that."

"He proposed to me," you showed him the ring in desperation. "Only to cheat on me?"

"What can I tell ya, kid... young men are...," Dale sighed as he shook his head. "Dumb... and blind. They think they own the world."

You continued to sob in the man's arms. Listening to his soft voice as he spoke to you while you kept on your rambles of despair. Why Lori out of all people? You used to go out on double dates with your partners. You had known Rick Grimes for a good few years now. He was a good man. You had thought Lori was a good woman. But there she went, sleeping with an engaged man. The colleague, and best friend of her husband. Who may or may not be dead. Maybe Rick was gone, but you were still there. Only one partner of the cheating couple was widowed. The other part was still very much in a committed relationship. Or so you thought.

"W-What do I do now?" You wondered out loud. "How am I supposed to continue this?" Not necessarily talking about your relationship with Shane, but the situation altogether.

"You don't." Daryl's simple but straightforward answer made you look up. In the meantime, your sobs had quieted down again.

"What?"

"You tell him," he strictly told you. "You tell him what you saw. And you end it. Men like that... they don't change."

"God...," you fell back into the cushions behind you, running your hands down your face as you wiped the tears away. "Was I just... not good enough for him anymore? Why would he do something like this?"

"I wish I could tell ya, honey. But don't think that this has anythin' to do with you," Dale's stern voice made you glance at him. "Men like him don't think. You think he really thought of the possible consequences of his actions?"

You shrugged.

"He didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have done it. And men like don't deserve a second chance. Hell- they don't even deserve a first chance. But they're charming and whatnot, and before you know it, they're havin' their dicks in other women, breaking hearts of the ones that actually care about them."

You decided to stay quiet, letting his words sink in and register with you.

"You don't deserve that, honey."

Nodding your head, you took a deep breath in, wiping your nose. "I know..." With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand up. "I have to talk to him."

"You sure, you wanna do that tonight?" The man carefully asked you, but you had already made up your mind, so you just continued to nod.

Quietly, you left the RV, of course not before Dale promised to set up a bed for you to stay in inside his movable home. You knew you had found the confidence to face your- Shane. Yet, your shaking legs and hands almost betrayed you. Realising, you didn't even truly think about how to start the conversation, the anxiety inside of you only started to bubble up more, hitting its highest point when you suddenly saw Shane exiting your tent.

His eyes fixed on you in the dark, finding your silhouette coming towards him thanks to the light shining through the RV's windows.

"Y/N-" he started, but you interrupted him right away.

"It's over."

Shane's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"It's over," you repeated, finding your voice slightly shakier than you would've liked to. You glanced down your hands, almost mindlessly, wrapping your fingers around the gold band. Once, the sight of the shimmering ring on your finger made you smile, now it just shot another wave of sadness through your body. Almost shakingly, you took the last step, pulling the gold band off your finger, the metal leaving your skin, making you breathe out heavily.

"Hey- hey," the sheriff rushed closer to you, making you scoot back in reflex. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" You spat at him, a salty chuckle tumbling from your lips. There was a slight change in expression on his face as he lifted his hands in defence.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen," you stopped him again. You didn't even let your brain think about what words were about to fall from your lips. "Don't even try-" You had to stop yourself, taking a deep breath in, trying to promise yourself not to cry in front of the man that you had lost so many nerves to.

"What the hell are you doing?" He continued to ask you, his frown only deepening.

But you just continued to shake your head, ignoring the anger starting to lace his voice. You had seen Shane angry before. Even angry at you. And it scared you. But right now, the anger, you were trying to hold back, should terrify everyone involved in this situation.

Taking a few steps closer to stop right in front of him, you lifted your hand that was still tightly holding onto the ring you had once worn and shown off proudly. Once Shane opened his palm underneath it, you let it drop down.

"It's over." Before he could ask you anything more, you left him with one last comment hanging in the air. "Have fun with Lori."

Turning around, you could hear his heavy huffs and the callouts of your name, yet he didn't even dare to try and reach out to you, leaving you to make your way back towards the RV. In the back, the sound of him knocking over some of the empty cans you had gathered, filled the silence. Up ahead, you found a silhouette standing still, almost scaring you if it wasn't for the distinct stance you were able to recognise immediately. The dim light illuminated Daryl's scowl as he had clearly watched the scene from a distance.

Arrived at the door of the vehicle, you wanted to at least send him a tight smile, a goodnight and somewhat of a thank you, but the archer had already disappeared again in his usual nature.

I CAN‘T WAIT TO POST PART 2🙈🤗🥰 I loved writing this so much omg

this is me officially stating I'm writing for the man that is Daryl Dixon now too :)

#Daryl dixon x reader #Shane Walsh #fluff #twd #the walking dead #Norman reedus #Jon bernthal #let me tell you something #one shot #imagine #fem!reader #series #masterlist

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biscuitbox23 · 8 months

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The other woman.

Summary: The other woman will spend her life alone…

Authors Note: am back with another fic. I always thought about Lori and Shane and whatever happens, it’s always the song ‘The other woman’ from Lana del Rey. Poor rick :( in this case I wanted it to be like Rick still dealing with the grief and loss of his wife while Y/n fills in the gap because we all know Rick would NEVER EVER cheat on Lori.

Warnings: Suggestive themes but no actual smut comes in (still be cautious with this), angst, unrequited love. If I missed anything don’t be shy to comment on it, please do.

word count: 1.8k

The other woman has time to manicure her nails The other woman is perfect where her rival fails And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair anywhere.

You can almost feel his gaze in your cell room. You lay on your belly on the bed as you flipped through old gossip magazines like the ones you'd see in the front of a convenience store. It had radiant colors and models, actresses, you name it. It didn't help take away the longing ogling at you as you stared back at him, putting your magazine down.

It didn't help that you had your pajamas still on. It was a small tank top with a lace neckline with matching shorts. It was silky, and it hugged onto your skin snuggly. It was coral-colored. It was Rick's favorite. It was no surprise. You liked to get his attention from time to time.

You tried to put on this unrecognizable facade of cluelessness. It made you look more compliant. You like to paint your nails as leisure while everyone does their business and the jobs they have to contribute to the prison. You loved to feel pretty. Even at times like this, where you kill or get killed.

You'd see Rick pace around the prison like a madman. Carl had to deal with losing his mother. You didn't blame him. Rick was married to her for a long time. Sometimes, the widower would scream at nothing. It would wake you up in the night. Now you warm his bed.

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room And there are never toys that's scattered everywhere.

You always kept yourself clean. It was important. You can never go a week without showering. Ever since the apocalypse, it has been difficult for you. So you tried your best to smell good and be presentable for yourself. You kept your cell tidy and pristine, too. You cared for Judith when Beth had to spend some time with her father, Hershel. Play her, dress her, change her, almost as if you were her mother. You only did it so you could contribute to the group. You did not want to get kicked out like last time.

You were being weak and useless. That was what your last group would say. It was not your fault. You realize they made you live bait. Then you found Rick just a few days later. Unfortunately, Rick was not feeling so well when you came.

You had always had an odd attraction to him. At first, you would hate him for being rude to you, then feel your heart pull towards him. You understood his grief, though. The death of his wife brought the worst in him. You wanted to fix it, somehow.

So you tried your best to make up for it. Tidying cells, checking up on people, eating less so the rest of the group can have more rations. You wanted to fit in, to feel a part of it. The people were genuine, especially Carol. You felt his presence in every corner of the prison. You did not mind it. You would feel your core start to feel something else.

But it was never you who he was imagining. Was it? Whenever both of you share the night.

In sleepless nights with him, you can feel his breath on your ear, whispering honeyed words and insincere thoughts while his hands anticipate the need to hold your flesh as his body towers over you. Sometimes, you wonder what was going on in his mind, whether it was you or his deceased lover whom he sees underneath him. The simple acknowledgment of your company or the unending bereavement that engulfed his very own consciousness. The ghost of the prison halls haunted by his late wife.

As he was by your side, it was almost as if he was not the same madman as he was in the first few days of your arrival. He was gentle and careful with you, like a craftsman handling a porcelain doll, unlike the man who yelled at you for arriving at their prison.

He would lie next to you. He still had his wedding band. You thought about removing it without him noticing. You knew it was wrong to think that way, but you could not help it. You wanted him for yourself, but you also did not want to hurt him. You did not want to be the cause of any more pain in his life. You pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus on being a good member.

The wedding band on his finger was a cue of his wife, a memory forever etched in his mind. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever you caught a glimpse of it, knowing that you could never replace what he had lost. Despite your desires, you made a conscious effort to act as support and to be there for his and Lori's baby, even Carl. You knew that his healing process would take time, but you were willing to be patient, even if it meant that you could never have him for yourself.

And when her old man comes to call He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen 'Cause to be by her side It's such a change from old routine

There are nights when you think he will finally confess his feelings towards you. The strong emotions that both of you shared mutually would finally be real all this time. The longing melancholy that you endured to feel him again. Things that only the other woman can feel.

You're lying down on the empty cot that held your tired body. The blanket lazily covered your body as you stared at the prison ceiling. You breathe rapidly, and your chest heaves as your eyes wander on Rick's body, glistening in the faint glow of the candle.

You'd be his if he asked you to.

He wouldn't be willing to do that for you. It's been only a few months since Lori's demise, his beloved partner. It's a woman you always envied despite her absence. The grief is still fresh, and he hasn't had enough time to heal yet.

As you lay there, watching Rick dress himself up and ready to leave, you couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more between you two. However, deep down, you knew it was only a fantasy that would never come true. Despite the pain of unrequited love, you couldn't help but admire the man in front of you with his charming grace and loving body, grateful for the moments you shared even if they were limited.

Amidst a world ravaged by the undead, it felt like chasing after your heart's desires was a lost cause. You could only yearn for what you could have had. If only the world wasn't a grim and hopeless place you might have been Rick's beloved wife by now. You could have felt his longing gaze upon you as your bodies entwined in a loving moment, free from the fear and chaos that had consumed the world around you.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh The other woman will always cry herself to sleep The other woman will never have his love to keep And as the years go by, the other woman will spend her life alone.

Alone and heartbroken, you don't find comfort in your cell room after he left. Your body aches with humiliation as you feel your eyes well up. They sting in pain as tears form and trickle down your rosy cheeks and your neck, which bruised under his lustrous kisses.

The way he groans Lori's name from time to time, the way he shuts his eyes almost throughout the night as he claims your body for himself. You hated it all and despised Rick for it. Oh, but how could you hate him? It was impossible for you, wrapped around his finger like a pathetic toy used for his desire.

But he doesn't realize it. You were afraid to point it out, terrified that he would stop seeing you every night.

It is as if you longed for this twisted idea of true love. Sleeping with a widower, knowing you can't have his love for yourself. Yet, it entices you. Every night you spend with him, every chance you get. You did not like that feeling at all. Whatever happened, his heart belonged to his deceased wife. Someone he will never touch, kiss, hold.

How could Rick leave you yearning for him again and again? Disappearing as the sun rises, pretend like nothing is going on between you and him. That left you sobbing pathetically on your cot like a crybaby. You will never get the luxury of holding hands, cuddling with him on the bed, and sharing kisses. You longed for everything truly romantic, wishing what you had with Rick was similar to what Glenn and Maggie had.

Days passed, and you and Rick slowly stopped seeing each other every night. He started to heal from his grief a bit. He acknowledges you as a member, but never more than that, despite the intimacy both of you shared during his times of mental anguish.

Alone.

During your childhood, you seldom had any friends. Even if you did manage to find someone to hang out with, your friendship was usually brief and fleeting. Your parents had their hands full with your younger siblings, and you often found yourself waiting alone for bedtime stories. Solitude became your constant companion until the apocalypse turned your world upside down.

It's an unfortunate reality that every person we love will eventually leave us in this world. You've had to face your fair share of losses, starting with the passing of your mother, father, and even your siblings. The apocalypse further compounded your feelings of isolation and grief as you were forced to journey alone, with nobody to rely on but yourself.

Along the way, you encountered a group of people who initially seemed like they could be allies, but it quickly became apparent that their intentions were far from honorable. With no other options, you continued your journey until you eventually stumbled upon a prison that had been into a small group home.

Despite your initial reservations, you soon found yourself safe and protected among the survivors who had made the prison their home. You were grateful to finally have a sense of belonging after so much loss and chaos.

You have been alone your whole life, but you've never felt so lonely as it is now.

———————————————————

A/n: I pictured this so much better than what I thought… I mean it’s not that good, I tried my best since I needed to clear out my WIPs, I’m sorry if this doesn’t meet up to ya’lls standards. I tried making it less sexual but let me know if I should dumb it down a little.

tags : @richardsamboramylove55 @musicownsme

#the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #twd #twd fanfic #andrew lincoln #rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x you #twd rick #twd x reader #biscuitwrites

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every1sno1fangirl · 5 months

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Happy Hifuumo Friday: Touhoufest 2024 Mega Edition everyone!

I want to start this off by simply saying that I had a fucking blast on my trip. I didn't think I'd have as much fun as I did, but as it turns out, I might just be a con/cert goer, who would have thought?

A year ago I would have died just thinking about going on a trip like this. And here I am now, looking back on it fondly and already looking forward to getting next year.

Was I still kind of anxious the whole time? Certainly. But it was manageable!

I arrived a day early to get my bearings. The group I was with happened to have plans that day too, so me and the people I was with (Hi @sennypls & @DeviousPulsar on The Social Media Platform Formerly Known as Twitter💖) decided to hang out. We went to a cat cafe and then to Little Tokyo.

I thought I'd be a lot more scared of that than I actually was, which is great!

The trip to Little Tokyo was also really fun. Where I live doesn't have anything like it, so it was a nice change of pace. After that we went to the observatory and watched the sunset.

But enough about that! It's time to dive into the real subject; Touhoufest itself!

I had a /fantastic/ time there, doing pretty much everything. I attended a few panels, wandered around artist alley, just took pictures and hung out in my cosplay, it was great!

There was also a really cool garden that I spent a lot of time in. I took a photo with my friend @phanatma's (Also on The Social Media Platform Formerly Known as Twitter) Eirin fumo.

And we even met Miku!

The fumo meetup was also really nice. They had to do it in waves because of how many people came to participate in that!

I also got to meet @lyricalive & @lori-hime, and got this nice picture of them with my fumos!

And I got recognized by two fanfic authors too. They are @comfybutter and @cookiethebirdthing here on Tumblr! It was really shocking to me, and we took this picture together!

At the end of the first day, a concert was held at the venue. 'Toho Eurobeat Extravaganza' it had a lot of artists and it was /really/ cool. They even got A-ONE all the way from Japan!

Next time, I'll remember to bring earplugs. Though I had a great time regardless!

When Touhoufest actually closed on the second day we went and had hotpot together at a friend's Airbnb (Though I couldn't eat any of it because of my Crohn's sadly) before making our way to Round1, which took awhile.

I had a lot of fun watching everyone play the games!

Sadly, it had to end. I've already decided I'm going to go again next year at least. AND I'm going to learn how to sew so I can make a better cosplay.

Finally, here's a picture of my haul.

I love you all, and I hope you have a good day/night!

#hifuumo friday #renko usami #maribel hearn #hifuu club #touhou #touhou project #fumo #hifuu #fumoposting

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jdeanmorgan · 4 months

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(insert graphic design is my passion frog meme here, i legit just went into my twd gifs folder and found some old gifs of mine rip)

for the @ceganbingo event I am sharing some of my absolute favorite cegan fics and I hope y'all read em all and like them and leave the authors some good comments bc these are all brilliant fics that deserve all the kudos in the world. so without further adieu, here we go:

Physical Education ★ 110K ★ by @candle-jill

After an accident took Carl's eye, he became more isolated learning to cope with his loss. Other kids stare at him. Friends stop speaking to him. Even the teachers don't know how to act. All except one. Carl finds his gym teacher Negan to be his sole comfort throughout his senior year.

But another traumatic event leaves Carl questioning what he wants from life. He soon learns to take his frustration out a different way. A violent way. And with Negan's reluctant help, they form a new kind of friendship.

Dollface’s List of Demands ★ 13K ★ by @rumov

After his life spirals out of control, Negan meets a teenager with a strange and intriguing side to him.

The Present Participle of ‘Absolutely Fucked’ ★ 14K ★ by @rumov

“You,” Negan starts, leaning into Carl’s face, “are into some freaky shit.”

He doesn’t have a response, holding Negan’s stare with his own in place of one. Negan’s going to somehow tell his dad, and then his dad is going to forever know that Carl looks at weird, gorey porn on the Internet and blame himself for it.

and the rest is ruin and snuff ★ 11K ★ by @mcplestreet

Carl is way more messed up than the average fourteen year old. And gets off to more messed up stuff than most fourteen year olds. He gets a message on his favorite snuff film site and before he knows it his life is spiraling out of control.

The Savior Carl series ★ 197K+ ★ @duchessonfire

In a world where Rick never found Carl and Lori, Shane has been the leader of their group and Carl has managed to keep himself and his sister, baby Lori, alive in spite of Shane's growing madness. After surviving the apocalypse with his stepdad, Negan is nothing he can't handle… Right?

Blood Stains ★ 2K ★ by @missmisdemeanor

“Write your name. Here.” Carl trailed a hand down his own thigh.

“My name? Wow. You are so much nicer with a dick in you.”

The Story of Carl Smith ★ 23K ★ by @reallygreatblogname222

Carl, finally free of foster care and adopted into the Smith family, is eager to please. When marital strife splits up their peaceful family, things change between Negan and his adopted son.

Stupid or certain ★ 2K ★ by @ex0rin

Carl wants to know what waterboarding feels like. Negan obliges.

It's almost 6 am so I know for sure that I'm forgetting some, but I think that's enough for now.

#cegan #ceganbingo #ficrec #*

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sillyrabbit81 · 2 years

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The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place.

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine.

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me.

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

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boygiwrites · 5 months

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Harley D. Dixon 28

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I was lying last time. That wasn't a biggun. THIS is a biggun.

'Be careful, Dad.'

'I will, baby.'

I realize the others. 'Oh. And you too, I guess.'

'Real funny,' T-Dog signs, unimpressed.

The strongest of our group spare us no last glances as they turn away, with only five bullets and a handful of bolts between them. I sit next to Lori on the small bench, watching their backs retreat. The Thanton Memorial hospital. There it is, tall and beige like a school, but really more of a Hellbox filled with nasty surprises behind each one of the hundreds of little black windows. Glad it ain't me.

God. Nine miles. Two days. Sharpsburg, East of nowhere. We really made it. I guess I knew we would.

'You know this place.'

Herschel's already looking at me when I turn to him, his moustache curled around a smile.

'Just a feeling,' He adds.

'You're a mind reader,' I decide, regarding him with suspicion.

Herschel Greene; a wizard disguised as a Georgian farmer. I knew there was something up with him.

He doesn't respond, because I guess he don't want his cover blown. That or... Well, he's waiting for an answer.

'My Momma lived in this town.' Is all I supply him with after a time, because it ends the same way most stories do.

'I'm sorry.'

I shrug. It ain't anybody's fault. 'I don't know why I didn't tell nobody.'

'This town means something to you. We don't always share things like that.'

I guess. 'What about your Momma?'

'My Mother died when I was fairly young.' He admits easily, like somebody at peace. 'One day, my brother and I noticed she'd gone out into the rain to water the plants, and things were never quite the same for a long time after that.'

Oh. I've heard of that. People getting old, forgetting where their bedroom is, who their kids are.

It's hard to imagine Herschel as just a boy with a Momma.

Some days, it's even hard to imagine myself as just a girl, even though that's what I still am.

I offer him a lame smile.

'Let's talk about something a little happier,' He suggests, while over his shoulder, a flashlight glares across the inside of one of the second storey windows. 'I'm starting to think it's the end of December. That would mean it's Christmas soon.'

The light disappears.

I ignore it.

If only them pharmacies we checked this morning had anything in them besides rat shit and dust.

'Jesus' birthday party,' I muse.

That gets him to laugh. I think he's tryna distract me. 'Yes. It could even be tomorrow.'

'Really? How do you know?'

'Well, I suppose I don't. Do you like Christmas?'

Everybody likes Christmas. That is, at least, everybody likes presents.

'Yeah. My Meemaw had a really pretty tree.'

'The minute it turned December first, Maggie and Beth would always force everyone to put up ours.'

'Do they believe in Santa Claus?'

'Not anymore, I'm afraid.'

'And you?'

His eyes glint mischievously. 'Of course I do.'

I consider it. 'I don't think I do. I don't believe in the Easter Bunny, neither.'

Or God, but that's a different story.

'They didn't ever come to your house?'

'They came a few times, but I think they forgot about us. My friend Dylan said they're made up. The Christmas after that, I stayed up late to spy on Santa, but I just saw Merle and Dad carrying presents in from the truck. I never told them.'

'I guess Santa was too busy that night.'

'If he is real, I hope he's okay. The Easter bunny has lots of chocolate to eat, but... Santa might be hungry.'

I wonder if the walkers have made it to the North Pole yet. Knowing those assholes, they definitely have.

'You forget; — Santa has magic.'

'That's how he makes the sleigh fly, right?'

'Right. And all those cookies and all that milk... Well. He's got more than enough to last a lifetime.'

'So, you think he's okay?'

'I'm sure of it.'

'I would like some cookies and milk, too.'

The old man only laughs again, giving my knee a gentle pat as Carl leans forward, his mouth moving around some words.

When the boy gestures to me, Herschel translates.

'He asked me what we were talking about. He wants to tell you it's okay; Santa forgot about him too, one year.'

Carl sends me a thumbs up, trusting that the message got across well enough.

It did. I feel my smile widen.

It's wiped away when Lori suddenly lurches forward between us. Her chest wracks, wracks, wracks, a soft wad of phlegm flying past her lips and landing at her feet. My hand goes to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, as if that's gonna do anything useful. Her lungs, they must be clogged up like sponges filled with yoghurt, all that sickness and junk coming back up the way it went in.

Herschel's on his feet, bringing his thin hand down on her back, knocking the phlegm out of her.

I glance over my shoulder.

Lights; more of them, swooping over the glass, appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

A gunshot lighting up a window.

Please be okay, I think. Lori won't make it like this.

Facing forward again, Lori's got her hand splayed over the base of her throat, coughing dryly. She takes the water bottle Carol is offering to her, and gulp, gulp, gulps down the last of what's inside, deflating when she's done, cradling her big belly.

Are you okay, I ask aloud as I loosen my grip on her, hoping it sounds how it's supposed to sound.

She smiles at me in the slightest of ways, putting her hand over mine before I can pull it away.

She nods, I'm okay, honey.

I nod back, because that's good. I don't believe her for a second, but that's good.

'There was a gunshot,' Beths signs to me, then.

'I know. I saw.'

She continues signing even as she turns to Herschel, a habit by now. 'That was loud.'

'Don't worry. Anything that heard it will be too slow to make their way over here.'

'I hope so.'

We sit without talking after that, watching the windows of the hospital light up with gunshots every now and then, as if it were a football game on TV. I count them, the flashes. The one I saw while Lori was coughing, that's one. That one there, that's two.

Rick used to talk about the day he woke up in the Grady Memorial Hospital sometimes. Right now, the only parts of the story I can remember are the ones where he'd hesitate to continue, staring at something in the fire the rest of us couldn't see, before he muttered about the way there wasn't one wall in the entire building that wasn't dirtied with blood, not even in the children's ward.

Hospitals just ain't what they used to be, is what I learned from him.

There's definitely more than just rat shit and dust in there.

I glance at Beth, asking her, 'Any noise?'

Her lips crumple into a thin line as she answers, 'Nothing.'

Just when I swear Herschel is about to bow his head and start praying, the front doors swing open.

Mouse perks up, his tail ramrod straight.

That's Dad, T-Dog, and Maggie walking out.

Where's Rick and Glenn?

The three of them are panting, dishevelled, but nobody hurt. Nobody bit. That's always the first thing I look for.

Thing is, though, they're all looking at me like I've won a shitty prize and I just don't know it yet.

What now?, I almost feel like saying, but don't.

The further in we walk, the darker it gets.

Does anybody really like the dark?

The flashlights carve out pockets in the walls and floors around us as we make our way down corridor after corridor. My heart skips a beat each time we pass the body of a patient or a nurse or a person in regular clothing, all with a bolt or a bullet buried somewhere inside them. We sidestep their limp arms in turn, their puddles of blood. I ain't ever been in a horror house before, but I imagine this is worse. I imagine it'd prolly feel a whole lot less like you're being walked to the gallows for execution, and that the blood would be fake.

If I had my locket, it would be clutched between my fingers right now, but the soft spot beneath my throat is completely bare. When I woke up this morning to my empty palm, I knew right away what'd happened. I didn't bother to ask what he did with it.

Passing another body with a bolt skewered through its face, my Dad reaches for it, pulling it out.

Clicking it back onto his bow, he notices me watching him.

'Keep going, baby.' He signs to me, black blood smeared down the side of his neck. 'Not far, now.'

T-Dog comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor a minute later, his flashlight revealing Glenn and Rick standing together just up ahead. Not hurt. Not bit. They look up from what they've been doing, which looks like taking turns kicking the wall.

T-Dog lowers the flashlight to their feet.

There it is.

The Harley-sized hole in the wall.

Now that I'm looking it, I can see what they meant. Nobody else is fitting through that thing, not even Carl.

Still no use, is the sentiment written all over Rick's face.

It looks like they've tried their best to widen the gap, but it's made out of solid brick and we're fresh outta jackhammers.

Will she fit?

Yeah, I think so, Is the gist of what I can tell they're saying to each other.

We got this piece off here, but it the rest isn't budging. We don't have any bullets left to shoot it.

Maybe... we can do what I said before? Find another pharmacy?

Sure. When you find one within twenty miles of here, you let me know.

You're right. That was dumb. Sorry.

There are no other options. The medicine Lori needs is in that room, and it's like I said. She won't make it, otherwise.

'Listen. There are keys on the desk.' Dad explains to me, his stern expression contoured harshly by the flashlights surrounding us. He takes my wrist, guiding me to crouch with him at the base of the wall, pointing through the cracked bricks. I strain to make out the desk with the keys at the back of the room on the other side, before I meet his gaze again. 'Do you see them?'

'Yeah. I saw them.'

The desk ain't the only thing in there.

'We need you to grab them and unlock the door for us.'

We both know I also saw the walker standing idly in the corner, head bowed to the floor, waiting.

'We'll be able to kill it when the door is open.' He adds when I don't respond, as if he needed permission. 'I can't from here.'

'My heart is beating fast.'

He nods. 'That's a good thing. And this meathead is dumb. Are you dumb?'

I puff my chest out, shaking my head.

'That's right. You don't need to hear them when you're smarter than them. You're always smarter than them. Okay?'

'Okay.'

That's what he's told me ever since I went totally deaf. I don't need to hear them when I'm smarter than them. It's not as if we've had the opportunity to test the theory out, since there's so little walkers that I ain't had to kill one yet, but I trust him.

Twisting around, he gestures for Glenn's flashlight and catches it easily, giving it a few test clicks.

He hands it to me. 'Remember what I taught you?'

I give a nod, feeling the weight of Merle's knife sitting in the sheath on my thigh.

'Good. And be careful of the glass on the floor, okay?'

'Okay. I got this.'

I can do this. I gotta, for Lori and the baby. It'll make for a funny story one day, anyway. I can do it.

'You got this.' He agrees. 'It's gonna smell you, but you're not gonna panic. Easy stuff.'

'Easy stuff. Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

With one last look at the group, I take a deep breath and grab onto one of the exposed bricks, contorting myself until my head and one of my arms is through the gap. I pause for a moment, trying not to breathe too much as I watch the walker follow invisible patterns along the floor with its eyes. Once its head is tilted away from me, I brace my hand on the floor, pushing myself through.

Oh, God. What was it I just said? I can do this?

The flashlight blinks on and off as I land on the other side, grabbing it, giving it a shake.

The desk is illuminated in a circle of light, centre stage.

The dead body twitches in the shadows. I slowly get to my feet, silently warning it to stay right where it is if it knows what's good for it. I'm smart. I can read and write now, and my Dad taught me how to stab the thigh first, so the walker will collapse and make it easier for me to reach whatever cavity I can stick my knife in. If this thing gets too close to me, it's gonna get the Dixon treatment.

Uh huh. That's right, I scold it, chin held up. The Dixon treatment. Ain't nobody want that!

The pieces of glass on the floor glint in the light as I tip toe my way through them, stepping up to the desk.

Dad said the keys are here. I saw them. They should be right here amongst these dusty papers — Ugh, God, don't sneeze. Don't. — or maybe even on this folder? What about the shelves above the desk? How could they just disappear?

When I turn the light on the walker, it's looking at me, eyeballs wet, reflecting the light.

It's smelt me.

That's okay. I'm okay. We knew it would.

It starts its slow shuffle towards me as I turn my attention back on the desk, casting about it twice as quickly now, batting the alarm clock, the pen pots, the stethoscope, everything out of my way and following all the pencils and random office supplies down to the floor. Kneeling, I look around, making sure the keys haven't gone down with them or fallen between the desk and the cabinets.

A glint of metal.

I gasp. They have!

I must've accidently knocked them off while I was choking back all that dust in my face.

I stick my hand into the slim gap, but — Ugh. — I can't get it any farther than my knuckles!

I'll have to make it wider.

Abandoning the flashlight, I grab the side of the desk, using all my strength to shove it even just one inch to the side.

Shit, it's heavy. They got bowling balls in here, or what?

The wheelie chair bumps into my ankle. I act on instinct, my hands shooting out, bracing against it. I look up. The walker's slouched over it, reaching for me. My elbows, they buckle. Shit. The seat slams into my shoulder — Ouch! — but you know what. This'll do. This works. I just need these stupid keys. I ignore the walker and its stench of old meat, focused on nothing but the keys.

I'm not gonna panic. It's what I used to do, but I've learnt since then. I'm better!

A couple shoves, and the gap is just wide enough, wide as it's ever gonna be.

Easy stuff. Easy stuff.

The seat suddenly gives way. The body rolls, cracking its cheekbone on the floor. Don't matter. I got the keys. I'm back on my feet and running to the door, feeling out a random key and shoving it in the lock, twisting it. It's the right one. The door opens.

Maggie pulls me out by the arm. It's if there's a fire blazing behind me and I'm about to go up in flames.

That's it. I'm out!

I fall into her stomach, protectively held there.

Thank whoever's still up there. Or maybe, just thank me.

Rick and Dad push past my shoulders, marching into the room and unsheathing their blades, powerfully driving them both into the walker's skull. Blood splatters as they yank them out, droplets landing across the glass cap of the flashlight on the floor. It tints the light and everything it's cast onto a bright red, flickering. Dad picks it up, wipes it on his thigh, and hands it back to Glenn.

Grinning proudly to myself, I hold up the keys up like a trophy head for everyone to see.

Maggie releases me, smiling breathlessly down at me in relief.

'Well done,' T-Dog exclaims with his hands, sharing a high five with me.

Kneeling in front of me, Dad cups my face in his hands. He don't give a damn about the keys. Are you okay?

'I'm okay. The keys were down the side of the desk. I couldn't reach them. I had to—,' Shoving at the air, I enthusiastically mime the struggle, making Maggie chuckle behind her hand. 'The walker was trying to get me through the chair.'

He smiles, wagging his thumbs across my cheeks before lowering his hands. 'I told you. Meatheads. But not you.'

'Not all the time, anyway.'

'You should've come back out when you couldn't find the keys.'

'Sorry.'

'It's alright. There won't be a next time. You did good.'

Then, taking the keys from me, he stands back up and returns to Rick's side in the dark room.

I stay right beside Maggie and Glenn as they make quick work of the storage room door, pushing it open. Their torches illuminate the shelves on either side of them, which to everyone's relief, are completely untouched, lined with all kinds of medicine. It wasn't all for nothing. Without bothering to read many of the labels, they swoop their arms through the masses of bottles, catching everything in their open backpacks and zippering them back up, before nodding to each other and stepping back outta the small room.

Let's go, Rick says as he shoos us forward. We're all eager to get the Hell outta this place.

Stepping through Thanton Memorial's broken glass doors, daylight breaks across my face.

The fresh, cold air floods into my dusty lungs.

When Carl spots me, it's like the bench burns his ass. He's calling my name as he comes running at me, crushing me in a hug that almost sends us both toppling over into the snow. A giggle is squeezed from me as I hug him back, feeling my bones creak under the pressure. Wow. For somebody who ain't eaten anything other than a bit of rabbit for the past two days, he sure is strong.

Pulling away, he holds both my shoulders as he worriedly exclaims something to me.

You're the coolest, bravest person ever, I'm gonna assume is what he's saying, I don't know how you did it!

He pulls me in for another, quicker hug.

When Herschel appears over his shoulder, I get the real story. 'He's telling you we were all very worried.'

Oh. Is that right?

Ow!, The boy scoffs as I land a punch to his shoulder, forcing him offa me.

'Tell him he's talking to Harley Dixon,' I say.

As the sentiment is passed on, Carl rolls his eyes at me, making a retort.

'He wants to remind you of the time he hugged you after you cried from a nightmare.'

Ow!, He complains again when I punch him.

As he rubs sorely at his shoulder, he can't help but giggle along with me.

'Come on,' Herschel interrupts us, herding the two of us back toward the group. 'Very well done, sweetie.'

'I was only a little scared.'

'Of course. This is Harley Dixon I'm speaking to, isn't it?'

Too right. 'Yes, it is!'

Stepping up to the crowd, we gather around the bench as Rick takes a seat next to his wife, uncapping the bottle of water in his lap. Her face looks awful pale-like, paler than the snow packed under our boots. Still, despite the effort it must take, she manages a smile. Her hands shake as she takes the water, watching Rick tap a small bottle of pills against her open palm until two tumble out.

Being trapped in that room was one of the scariest things I've done. I can say that, now. But as she tips her head back and swallows the pills down with a gulp of water, I'm hit with the feeling that I would do it all over again if I had to.

She sighs, body swaying. We can only hope that it works.

As Rick soothes circles onto her lower back, his gaze accidently meets mine.

'Thank you', He signs, looking like he means every bit of it.

His blue eyes start to water just like they did last night, except there ain't no fire I can blame it on this time.

I only give him a single, shy nod, grabbing onto my Dad's hand. He don't need to thank me. I love Lori, too.

Then to everyone else, he says it again; Thank you.

Carl's hugging me again.

I don't bother punching him this time. I don't wanna do it, anyway.

Being back in Sharpsburg is different to what I thought it would be.

Aside from the old blood smeared across the roads, the way everything seems to have gone through a nightmare and fell back asleep shortly afterward, Sharpsburg is the one place we been that has not bothered to rot away quite yet. There ain't no bombing craters where parks or stores used to stand, no toppled police barricades, army trucks, no bruises from the week everything ended.

Petey's general store is still exactly where it always was, right next door to the news agency, the record store, the locksmith. I don't keep my head down like I planned to. I don't pretend I never knew this place, or the people in it, because I did. I hold my chin up to the light of the setting sun as we walk through the forgotten town, unafraid of the memories I can see behind each and every door.

You know this place. I did. I do. For a long while, it was pretty much the only thing I knew.

Each weekend, I would jump out of Dad's truck the second he pulled up on the handbrake, door slamming as I ran into my Mama's open arms. It would be late afternoon, sometimes twilight. There was no school the next day, no quizzes or beatings to worry about. Not on the good days, not when I was cruising down the sidewalk on my bike with a dollar note in my hand, on my way to Petey's. He would always insist on letting me pick an ice cream out for free, but it never worked. Have-it-her-way-Harley, he always called me, the nickname a hearty chuckle in his mouth. The wind was in my hair on the way home, because I had one back then, dollar note replaced with a fruity-flavored glob of ice cream frozen to a stick. Sugar melting onto my fingers, washed away in the play pool after dark.

I used to do things like that. We all did, I suppose.

As we pass by an empty parking lot, I notice the rainbow streamers of a lonely, fallen bike blowing around in the wind like a white flag. I wanna ride a bike again. Just for a minute. Maybe two, I think, as I hold my gaze on it for as long as I can.

Eventually, we make it to a park. Of course, I recognise this place as well, and so does my Dad.

That's why I can feel him staring at the back of my head.

I never stopped to think about how he knows Sharpsburg, too. He was right there with me on the porch of Petey's store, most the time, smoking cigarettes in the sun with melted ice cream drying out on his collarbones. He remembers it, too.

We used to come to this park all the time; me, Momma, and Dad, on the rare days they got along.

I got to pretend I was a different kid looking in on the three of us and thinking, What a nice family. I wish I was her.

Now, the monkey bars look more like the giant ribcage of an old beast rather than something I'd wanna play on.

A shrivelled walker, curled over the seat of one of the swings, lets the wind brush its fingers along the ground.

Everyone has a Before.

Even that walker.

Even if our Befores were all very different, at least our Afters are all the same. We're all here, sick, hungry, tired.

The park's trees and fences fall away after a while of more walking, making way for a suburban street.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the road, the ache in my feet worsens to a pang, pang, panging.

'Everything alright?' Glenn's asking me as a wave of tiredness suddenly washes over me.

'My feet hurt.' I answer. 'And don't say sorry.'

'I think we're going to stop soon. Don't worry.'

Rick considers the houses lined up in front of us, hands on his hips, as Dad walks up to us. 'What's wrong?'

'Her feet hurt. And are you tired?'

I could fall asleep right here in the snow. 'A little.'

Even when I was lost in the woods outside Herschel's farm, I still don't think I ever walked this much and for this long.

Giving me a regretful look, Dad offers, 'Do you need me to carry you?'

'I'm a big girl,' I tell him, yawning.

'I know. I asked you a question.'

They wait on my answer. I think about fighting it a minute longer, but I just don't have it in me. I'm reaching up for my Dad before I even realize it's what I'm doing, letting him lift me onto his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

I could've definitely handled it. Yeah. It's just that, maybe it's okay if I don't for a while.

I can already feel my eyes drooping shut. I'm gonna fall asleep right here.

It's suddenly a lot easier to feel like just a girl, now.

My chin hooked over his shoulder, I watch through my heavy lids as Rick does a double take on something laying on the ground, turning to pick up what looks like a fallen street sign. The moonlight swells over the clouds, spilling onto the metal.

Brushing the frost off, he reveals the words, Bolton Drive.

Bolton Drive. To me, this was always just Dylan's street.

If we turn left here, there's some bigger houses down the way. I think it's prolly what my Dad's telling the group right now.

We're on the move again right after that, heading further into the suburbs. I'm saved from walking, instead snuggling into my Dad. It's almost impossible to shield my face from the oncoming winds as I peek out over his shoulder, the moon a silver ball in the sky behind us. I bet it's just about the only place left without any walkers, including the North Pole. If I were a bird, maybe I would forget all about Earth and just fly up there. I could look back down on it all like from a faraway window, watching as it slowly spins.

At a harsh gust of wind, I close my eyes, and the moon and all the stars vanish.

Sleep sweeps me up quickly. My mind floods with murky colors, then black, swirling like a shower drain.

When I open my eyes next, we're approaching a house I don't recognise.

'Shhhh,' Dad's soothing me, looking about as exhausted as I feel. 'It's alright. I'm putting you down.'

My feet slowly setting on the ground, Maggie takes my hand before I get the chance to feel the loss of Dad's warmth. We wait shivering at each other's side as the men clear out the house. Rick eventually sticks his head back out, waving us inside.

Climbing the porch, we huddle into the narrow corridor and spread out into the nearest room, the lounge room. Dad's already got a fire going for us as we make ourselves at home on the sofas, the hot breath of the flames quickly starting to melt the frost stuck to my coat. I hug myself, breathing deeply and slowly to try fight off the urge to fall right back asleep. As I notice Carl approaching, I scoot over to make room for him and his Momma, who settles her weight down on the sofa with the help of Maggie and Glenn.

I feel a little bad for being carried, even if I needed it. Lori made it all the way here on foot, deep into a sickness and carrying a baby inside of her. A lotta people might think a lady like her is weak, but they'd be wrong. There's many ways to be strong.

My Dad stands from where he was knelt by the fireplace, peeling off his beanie and sitting beside me.

As I look around the room, all I see are tired faces.

Mouse plops himself between my feet, the poor guy's fur ice-cold beneath my hands as I give him some pats.

We'll be warm soon, buddy, I think.

Everyone's attention is stolen when Rick steps up to the front of the room, fiddling with his beanie in his hands.

He gulps on nothing, nodding to himself.

'I know we're all very tired,' Herschel translates for me as the words come, even though his arms must feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 'Been tired for months. But let's just make the most of this and try to relax tonight. We've got a fire. We've got walls. Medicine. It's a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan. T and I will melt some snow for us to drink, and we got some food we just found in the kitchen. We'll take turns for watch through the night, but there's not much out there. You saw.'

Carol hesitates to raise her hand, shaking her head as she asks a question.

We turn back to Rick. 'I don't know. I don't like staying in one place long, but I'm thinking there's only a few more weeks left until Spring. It's not impossible to think we can tough it out here. There's not many other options right now.'

It looks like we're staying in Sharpsburg for a few more weeks, then. At least until the cold dies down.

There are worse places to end up.

'Try to warm up in the meantime.'

Leaving us to stew in thought, Rick and T-Dog pull their coats on tighter and disappear through the archway.

'You know something?' Beth asks after a minute or two, the only light in the room coming from the fire. It lends her face a pretty, dim glow as she glances at her Dad sitting next to her. 'Daddy thinks it's gonna be Christmas tomorrow.'

Oh, that's right. I'd almost forgotten.

Glenn sends him a, No shit?, sort of look.

'I just figured it would be about that time.' He explains, making Maggie light up. 'I have a sixth sense for it.'

My Dad scoffs, shrugging. 'Well, I don't have a calendar. Why not.'

Wait? Really?

'So, it's Christmas tomorrow?', I ask him, as if we ain't just making all this shit up.

Something so simple, the prospect of waking up on Christmas morning tomorrow even if it ain't in no official way, even if we ain't even got a tree, let alone a star to put on top of it, sparks excitement throughout the room. Yes, it's Christmas tomorrow. From the smiles breaking out on everyone's faces, Maggie giddily gripping onto Glenn to give him a shake, I can tell it's Christmas tomorrow.

Feeling just a little bit more awake than I did a moment ago, I exclaim again, 'It's Christmas tomorrow!'

My Dad seems to find this very amusing, smirking side-long at me.

There ain't much to say in the way of how our Christmases used to go, especially the ones after my second birthday, but I still remember seeing the church all lit up with decorations at night whenever we happened to drive past it. I always liked that.

Carl must exclaim the same thing I did with almost twice the energy, because Lori and Rick laugh.

'I can't believe,' Maggie gushes, 'I forgot about Christmas!'

'It's not your fault,' Glenn jokes, petting her shoulder. 'We've been busy trying not to die.'

'Good point.'

'I'm sure the Lord will forgive you,' Beth says.

'Yeah. He started all this shit, anyway.'

Maggie waves her hand around. 'Hey. A little respect for the Atheists in the room?'

When everyone turns to look at me and Dad, a round of laughter breaks out.

'We're only in it for the presents,' He agrees.

I nod. It's true.

'Me, too,' Glenn says.

'I just wish I we had some,' Beth pouts.

'We're alive,' Herschel argues, looking around at each person in the room. 'There's no present better than that.'

Aww. That cheesy line earns him a funny look from Maggie, who pulls him into a deathly-tight hug.

'I think there actually might be something better.'

Glenn sticks a finger up, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he returns, he's cradling a bunch of shiny wrappers in his arms, dumping them all onto the coffee table. Snack packs. Crackers and cheese, salami and cookies, bread sticks, peanut butter. Those really are snack packs! What a lucky find!

Nobody hesitates. We all grab one, ripping the seals off and huffing the tasty smell that comes out.

'You just found these in there?,' Asks Beth.

'Yeah,' He answers, flopping back onto the sofa. 'They were in the pantry. There's cans, too.'

'I'm in love with whoever lived here.'

Mouse is staring at me as I pick up a piece of salami, so I toss it into his mouth.

I save the next one for myself, groaning at the nostalgic taste of school lunches.

'Better?' Glenn signs to me like a smartass, knowing damn well this is the best thing I ever tasted.

I stick my food-covered tongue out at him.

Blehhh!

Unexpectedly, he does the same thing back. Eugh. Gross!

When Carl notices what we're doing, he sticks his tongue out, too. Even grosser!

'Come on. Enough,' Dad tries to warn me, buts he regrets it a second later when a wet glob of salami lands in his lap.

This is what Rick and T-Dog walk in on as they come through the archway, holding cookware filled with chunks of snow and ice in front of them. My Dad's smacking the salami onto the floor as if it were fresh dog shit, Carl and I trying not to choke on our food, laughing at him. Mouse spinning in circles like a lunatic, spurred on by the chaos, making Carol laugh like she means it. Not that puny, polite little chuckle she does sometimes; a full belly laugh, holding onto Maggie for support. They was only gone a few minutes.

Rick smirks as he shakes his head, deadpanning something to the effect of, I see you found the food.

They set the cookware in front of the fire and join us on the sofas.

'Why's everyone so happy?', Rick asks as he sits on the ottoman, confused, delighted, because there has to be a reason.

'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I gladly tell him.

'Oh, really?'

T-Dog asks the others, 'Wait, what? How do you know?'

'We don't.' Herschel admits, throwing Mouse a cube of cheese. 'But we deserve a Christmas, don't we?'

Yeah, I see the word slip from Rick's mouth.

'We deserve some eggnog, too,' T-Dog adds, making himself laugh just like he always does.

'Tell me about it.'

'Cover your ears, kids,' Carol tells us, even though she's laughing, too.

I hear that right? As the deaf one outta the two of us, I jokingly gesture to my ears. I can't hear shit, anyway!

As everyone laughs all over again, my Dad reaches out to try and cover my eyes, but I bat him offa me. Nice try.

'You got the card, now, kid.' T-Dog tells me, like it's some secret club I've joined.

'I got the what?'

'The card. I got mine, too. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm black'?'

Carol smacks him. 'Whatever.'

'Next time your Dad gives you in trouble, you can pull the, 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

That's silly!

'Don't give her ideas.'

'Too late,' I grin devilishly. 'I got the card, now, Dad.'

He rolls his eyes, trying his best not to laugh, too.

'You can't do that, Harley.' T-Dog mimes. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

'What did I just say?'

Sorry, man, T-Dog chuckles, biting on a tiny bread stick.

What's eggnog, Carl asks his parents curiously, reminding us why we're talking about 'cards' in the first place.

Eggnog is a milky-lookin' drink that got booze in it, which is why Rick and Lori brush off the question. I tried it once, during a party at my Meemaw's, after one of my Uncles shrugged and said, Fuck it. Tasted like garbage sprinkled with cinnamon.

'Let's just stick with what we have,' Herschel suggests. 'There must be some other traditions we can do?'

'Our family used to share a favorite moment from that year,' Beth says. 'Maybe we can do that?'

'That's a great idea, Beth.'

'I got one.' Glenn raises his hand. 'Finding that car in Atlanta.'

'Oh, that was good.'

'Sad we had to leave it.' He agrees. 'I also liked the time I fell into a dumpster after we left the CDC.'

'What?,' Maggie scrunches her nose at him.

'Looking back at it, it was pretty funny.'

God dang, I remember that day. I was sitting off to the side with Sophia, watching the scene unfold together.

'Morales had to grab your ass to pull you out,' I tease him.

Rick tries to hide the fact that he's chuckling, as Maggie asks him what he was doing in a dumpster.

'We'd lost everything. We were searching for supplies, but I saw some yellow boots and I wanted them for Harley.'

Everyone croons, Awwww.

'I remember those boots, actually.' Beths recalls. 'What happened to them?'

'I fed them to the cows,' I shrug, so I don't gotta bring up the farm, where I left them in our tent the night it all burned down.

'Hey. I risked my life for those boots.'

Rick corrects him, 'I think you risked your ass, is what she just said.'

'It's what I said.'

'I got one.' My Dad says, dipping a cracker in some peanut butter. 'The day we put Glenn in the well.'

'Remember how he squealed?,' T-Dog giggles.

'No,' Glenn tries to convince us, doing a very bad job of it. 'I don't remember that. Never happened.'

'That walker was next-level gross.'

Next in the line to share, I decide, 'My favorite moment is when I found Mouse.'

'He loves you, doesn't he?,' Maggie smiles.

I throw him another piece of salami, hoping that the answer would be yes.

Carl tells everyone his favorite moment from this year was sneaking off into the woods with me, but his parents both give him a look, so he wisens up and changes his answer to something a little less totally forbidden; going to shooting practice.

When it's Lori's turn, she mentions a time she pushed Carl on the Greene's swing.

Rick's favorite moment is beating Herschel at checkers, something that the old man lets him get away with sharing.

'Gotta be seeing Daryl wake up after surgery,' T-Dog says after that, startling me with how suddenly sentimental it is.

The firelight flickers back and forth on the rug for a few moments.

My Dad subtly replies, Thanks, man.

'I was gonna say that, too,' I say to be funny.

'Yeah,' Glenn backs me up. 'You totally were. In fact, I change my answer, too. Favorite moment; Meeting Maggie.'

The woman pouts up at him, grabbing his hand, threading their fingers together.

'I change mine, too.' Dad says. 'The moment I found out Harley wasn't bitten.'

'That's mine, too.'

'Me, too,' Just about half the group nod, agreeing.

Then, everyone's coming up with different answers, talking over the top of each other. Bringing Harley back safe from the gas station, is T's second answer, but he also has a third and fourth and a fifth, because he just can't pick one. Making it outta the CDC alive. Finding the farm. Saving Glenn after he gave blood. Herschel's favorite moment is all the moments he's kept his daughters safe, an answer that earns him a big hug from both Maggie and Beth this time, because, I don't know what I'd do without my girls.

Rick and Glenn finding Daddy safe, Beth says, and then Maggie; That's mine, too.

I find myself with a hundred new answers, too. The moment Jacqui and I kicked up all them butterflies outta the grass as we ran to the house, after she told me my Daddy was alive. The morning Maggie made us scrambled eggs and tea for breakfast. All them times I shared a peach with someone while we sat in the sun. Lori making that joke about Maggie and Glenn being in love, and how I gagged at it back then. I can't forget about the time Carl hugged me as I cried, as Dad cut my hair, as I petted a cow's nose or fed a chicken.

All the little things and the big things, but also all the sad things. In a way, I'm grateful for them, too.

If Jacqui was here, or Sophia, or Momma or Meemaw, or my cousins, who could be anywhere by now, dead or alive, or Morales or Eliza or Louis or Miranda, who I ain't sure if I'll ever see again, or even our dog Tank, I like to think they'd be grateful for me, too.

'I told you, didn't I?,' Herschel smiles. 'No better present.'

After that — After Glenn starts to tear up and we all tease him for it — We decide to wrap it up for the night.

'I love you guys,' He blubbers, like we didn't already know, like we haven't almost died for each other a hundred times over.

Okay, buddy, Dad's saying, reaching to pat his shoulder.

'I think it's time to turn in.'

Beth covers her mouth as she yawns. 'Yeah. I'm so tired.'

'Tell me if anybody sees Santa Claus,' T-Dog says non-committedly.

'I'm going to grab the blankets and pillows from upstairs.' Rick announces, standing up. 'Who's on first watch? Me?'

I'll do it, My Dad offers, letting Maggie comfort Glenn, but he's turned down.

He was frostbitten from head to toe only yesterday. I wouldn't let him out there, neither.

I can do it, T-Dog decides, and that's that. 'Maybe it'll be me that sees him.'

No fair, Carl whines.

Rick leaves and brings back down a whole bunch of bedding that he plops on the floor, giving everyone free reign to pick out what they want as T makes himself scarce. I pull out a small pillow and what must be a toddler's blanket, letting Dad help me get settled on the sofa. I lay with my head against one arm rest, Carl resting his against the other. Both our Dads tuck us in.

'Goodnight,' He signs to me, knelt just beside the sofa. 'You still hungry or thirsty?'

I shake my head, yawning. 'Just sleepy.'

'You were very brave today.' He tells me, earnest eyes boring into mine. 'Not many kids would do what you did.'

'I just wanted to help Lori and the baby.'

'I know. They got a better chance, now.'

'Does that mean I get to name the baby?'

He smirks a little bit. 'We'll see.'

I glimpse Beth muttering to Hershel over Dad's shoulder, sharing a big blanket. I sign, 'Would Momma be proud, too?'

His face falls. The words hit him right in the heart, a poisonous bolt. All he says is, 'Yes.'

'Good,' I manage to reply, right before my eyes start to droop closed.

'Goodnight,' He signs again.

Placing a kiss to my cheek, my Dad pulls back and lays his own blanket down on the floor in front of me, laying facing the fire.

Rick was right. This is a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan.

I would like to help T-Dog spot Santa, I really would, but I just can't stay awake even one moment longer.

I'm being shaken gently.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Dad's face is inches from mine, all the windows behind him filled with grey daylight.

Adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, he signs, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.'

Sitting up, I groggily take in the sight of the group still laid out across the room, fast asleep. All except for Dad, and also Rick and Carl. I see them standing in the archway, both dressed for the snow just like Dad is, whispering to each other.

'Get your coat,' Dad says, and before I get the chance to ask what's going on; 'We're going searching for presents.'

We're what?!

After waking Glenn and putting him on watch, the four of us set out into the neighbourhood. The sun slowly rises from behind the falling snow, eclipsing the roofs of the houses around us and washing the morning in a soft, pink and yellow hue. It's quiet, peaceful, just how it always is before the day fully starts. Carl, Mouse, and I are rowdily running down the sidewalk, disturbing it all.

It's Christmas. According to us, it's Christmas, and ain't nobody here to tell us otherwise!

Dad and Rick follow after us until we make it to the park, the two oldies totally left in our dust as we make a beeline for the playground and pounce on the metal merry-go-round. It's been so long since I went on one of these. It feels like we're breaking a rule, a rule that nobody said aloud, but we ain't. Our Dads told us loud and clear that today, we're allowed to do whatever we want.

I'll spin us, Carl's laughing as he pushes on one of the handles, Mouse wisely standing back.

I still remember to hold on tight. Here we go!

Once he's picked up enough speed, he makes a jump for the platform. He skids around like a drunk, landing on his ass. He hugs the closest handle. The world spins into a multi-coloured smear. I just can't stop laughing, not even if I tried.

As the ride slows down, it feels like I'm 'bouta hurl up all that salami I ate last night.

Again!, I shout.

The next time we come to a stop, we round on the sight of Dad and Rick standing off to the side, watching us.

'Wanna get pushed?,' My Dad asks us, nodding to the swings.

I jump off the platform. 'Yes!'

Rick effortlessly peels the dead walker I saw yesterday offa the seat, throwing it aside and helping me on. I'on know how long we swing for, but the warm, pink sun spills and spills between the trees until it's on my face, making me forget the cold.

Spring is right around the corner, now.

This whole nightmare is almost over. I can just tell.

One of these days, the sun will crest the horizon and the snow just won't come.

It doesn't take long for us to make it back to town square.

'Where should we start?', Rick asks.

'I want to look in Petey's,' I answer right away, pointing to the storefront. 'But Carl can't come.'

Obviously, it's because I'm gonna be picking something out for him, which is why he starts giggling when Dad translates.

Rick ruffles the boy's hair, nudging him in the opposite direction. 'It's a plan. We'll search over here.'

'There's a toy store that way,' Dad adds helpfully.

'We'll check it out. Good luck.'

'Good luck. Watch out for elves.'

He laughs a bit as I whistle for Mouse, who runs after us. 'We will.'

Passing barrels of wrinkled flowers, Dad sticks his fingers between the automatic glass doors and forces them open, pulling his crossbow down as they roll apart on the tracks. Out of the darkness, a human-shaped shadow stumbles toward us.

It drops to the floor before it can even open its mouth.

Lowering his crossbow, Dad nods me forward, tugging his bolt outta the walker's wet face.

Look around, He says, wiping the blood off on his thigh.

The first thing I check is the comic section, of course. I'm hoping they got the series Carl likes, the one with the kick-ass astronauts and the evil aliens on the cover that I can't remember the name of. Captain Noel and the Astronauts, or something like that. I read it just the other week while he was dozed off, just to see what all the fuss was about. Weren't hard to see why he likes it.

As I step over a fallen sale sign, Mouse sniffs around the shelves, skulking around the corner.

Approaching the display stand, I skip right over the magazines and check out the comics, flicking through the covers. There's pictures of supervillain scientists, monsters, ninjas in impossible poses, wielding metal stars. They's all dumb-looking, so I'm sure Carl would eat them up like hot cakes for breakfast, but I really want the alien one. He been after the next volume since we met him.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

Hm?

Glancing up at Dad, I watch as he pulls a comic down from the highest rack, holding it out for me to see.

Captain Nate and the Awesome Eight, The quirky logo reads.

Grabbing it up like it might disappear before my eyes, I feel the pages crinkle under my fingers. This is the one!

Volume Four, It says at the bottom. The final mission.

I hold up three fingers to Dad.

Understanding, he flips through the comics again before handing me the third volume.

I take it, hugging them both to my chest before signing, 'These are for Carl. He loves them.'

'Really? I thought they were for Beth.'

Pssh. He ain't funny. 'Let's keep looking. We need something for her, too!'

He puts the comics in my backpack for me, following me around the store to continue our hunt for the perfect presents.

For Beth, I find a couple bottles of nail polish in the tiny makeup display, throwing in a black tube-thing that reads, Mascara, along with them for Lori, or maybe for Maggie. I ain't sure. I ask Dad what he thinks, but he got even less of a clue than I do.

I decide to throw in a second tube and some eyeshadow thingies just to be safe.

For Rick and Herschel, we decide on a pair of woolly socks for each of them. You just can't go wrong with socks.

When we find some shirts with silly phrases on them, I know instantly that they would be perfect for Glenn and T-Dog.

Lastly, Dad makes us grab a bunch of random things that we need, like canned food and lighters, before we turn into the pet aisle. Mouse is there, nosing a package of tennis balls along the floor. He looks confused when they roll under the shelves. I crouch down, pulling them back out. It looks like he found his own present. He watches me stash them in my bag, pink tongue lolling happily.

On our way out, I pass by the rack again, stealing a girly magazine off it that I think Carol will like.

Carl and Rick meet us back on the street, both their backpacks suspiciously fatter than they were the last time we saw them.

'How'd it go?'

Good, Rick says, as Carl tries to get a peek inside my bag. 'Want to swap?'

Before the boy gets to close, I fend him off, giggling as he wrestles me.

'Sure.' Dad pulls him offa me. 'Hard to get a present for your kid when they're right beside you.'

'Exactly.' Rick chuckles, offering his hand to me.

I take it, blowing a raspberry at Carl's back as he walks off with my Dad in the opposite direction.

The store Rick and I check out is the record store, Jameson's Jams, just across the way. After he scopes the place out, coming up empty, it's safe for us to go in. The smell of dust and plastic swarms us I look around at the tubs of record sleeves and CDs.

'It used to be tidy in here,' I sign to him, even though he could prolly guess that.

The doors close behind him, shutting the snow out.

' Did you go here often?'

'All the time.' I meander up to the nearest bin. 'My parents loved music.'

As I pick up an edgily-decorated sleeve that catches my eye, Rick steps up to my side.

'Something tells me their music taste clashed,' He jokes. 'Am I right?'

No. 'They both had bad taste.'

Scoffing, I throw the sleeve back, walking around to the other side of the tubs.

Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the record I'd been holding. It fits my Dad to damn T. I don't take it with me, though, because we ain't got no way to play it. It'd just be a waste of space, so I crack open a CD instead, taking out the paper.

Tossing the useless part back in the bin, I look up to see Rick already looking at me.

He's frowning, his brown hair poking out from underneath his beanie, curled over his faint wrinkles.

'What?,' I gesture impatiently.

What's he want?

I hate to admit it, but there's a little stain of bitterness left inside me after what he did to my Momma's photo.

It weren't like it was on purpose, but it didn't have to be.

'I'm sorry,' He signs, the tubs separating us by at least ten feet feeling more like a hundred.

'It's okay,' I brush it off. 'I'm not mad at you.'

'I know. Trust me, I can tell when you're mad at me,' He smiles for a fleeting moment. 'I'm apologising, anyway.'

'That was the only photo I had of her, you know.'

'I know.'

'Her name was Lindsey.'

'I know. Your Dad talks to me about her, sometimes.'

'Why did you throw it?'

He pauses, picking at a sticker on the wood before fessing up, 'Shane makes me angry, honey. I was angry. I threw it.'

'Angry? Not sad?'

'No. Not sad.' He shakes his head. 'We were all past that when we saw the truck leaving the farm.'

'He gave me the locket. My Dad threw it away the night you burned the photo.'

'Yes, I know. He talked to me about that, too.'

'He did?'

'He was going to let you keep it.'

'Why didn't he?'

'You know why.'

Yeah. I do. I don't even know why I asked that. He threw it away for the same reason I'm not allowed to talk about Ronnie.

Rick changes the subject, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he signs, 'Thank you. Again.'

'For the hospital?'

He nods. 'You were brave.'

'Dad said the same thing.'

'It's true. Even I would have been scared, and I'm thirty-four years old.'

'You're never scared.'

'I'm scared all the time.' I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to say that. I wait until he says something else. 'Thank you.'

Hell. He shouldn't make me laugh like that. I'mma breathe in all this dust. 'You're worse than Glenn.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can't stop saying 'Thank you'. He can't stop saying 'Sorry'. Feet hurt. Sorry. My ears ring. Sorry. It's funny.'

'He's sensitive,' Rick agrees fondly.

'I know. He cried last night.'

A muted chuckle. 'That's right. He did.'

As I look off to the side, something on the wall catches my eye.

Guitars. A lot of them.

Abandoning the piece of paper, I run over to them, stepping onto a chair and pulling down an electric guitar.

Rick is eye-level with me when he comes over. 'Your Dad said he knows how to play.'

Nodding, I give the strings a dramatic thrum.

It must be painful, going by the way Rick looks like he's just heard nails going down a chalkboard.

I can't help but laugh, turning to hook it back up. Like the record and the CD, it would just be a waste of space. Electric guitars don't sound so good if you don't got anything to plug them into. Acoustic ones, however, they're perfect anywhere.

Hopping onto to the next chair over, I pull down a classically wooden guitar, cold to the touch.

When I strum this one, Rick gives a thumbs up. It'll need tuning, but that's a piece of cake.

Jumping down, I have a thought.

'How the Hell do we hide this from him?'

He looks the thing up and down. 'We might have to give it to him now.'

Aw. 'That's not as fun.'

'How about this — You hide behind me. When we see him, you jump out. Is that fun?'

Hmmm. 'Okay. Let's do that!'

Carl's a lot harder to appease than I am, which must be the reason Rick lets out a little sigh of relief. 'Great.'

'It needs a shoulder strap,' I decide, grabbing one from the rack nearby and ripping it outta the plastic. I try to figure it out, turning it over to get a good look, but then I just pass it off to Rick's mittened hands. 'You know how to put it on?'

'Let me try.' He accepts the challenge, kneeling in front of the guitar.

Buttoning each end of the leather strap to the metal attachments, it looks like he's got it.

He hands it back, raising his brows at me. 'Remember to jump out. We have to get him to crap his pants.'

'It's a plan.'

Before we meet back up, we stop by the thrift store next door so that Rick can grab the shirt he'd had in mind for Carl, a simple thing with a superhero he likes on the chest. As we leave through the front doors, Rick herds me in behind his back.

We're only waiting in town square for a minute or two before he signals me that they're coming over.

When I feel the time is right, I jump out!

Rahh!

Dad don't quite crap his pants, but his eyes do widen ever so slightly. In Dixon terms, he's chilled to the bone.

My back-up man watches on, laughing.

I hold out the guitar once the moment's passed, hoping it's obvious that this is his Christmas present.

Woah, breathes Carl as my Dad takes it carefully, Mouse's tail batting around wildly at his ankle.

We watch as he drags his thumb down the strings, remembering what it feels like. Slowly, he starts to smile.

Looking up at me, he seems very, very pleased. 'Thank you. I love it.'

'Merry Christmas!'

'We knew we couldn't hide it from you,' Rick explains, 'So we scared you instead.'

'Did it work?'

Dad nods, frowning as he mouths the word, Terrifying, before kneeling to wrap me in a hug. I kiss his cheek.

'Did you get everything you wanted?'

Nodding again, Dad stands and passes the guitar to Rick, seeing as he's already wearing his crossbow.

Pulling it on, Rick nods in the direction we came from. 'Let's head back, then.'

We make it only five feet before we notice Carl isn't following us.

Looking back at him, he points at the parking lot across the street.

We follow his finger.

Across the street, the lonely bike with the streamers still lays there in the snow, next to a couple other bikes.

We glance between each other, a glint of something cheeky in our eyes.

We're all thinking the same thing, ain't we?

It's a long walk, anyways.

Who the Hell bikes in the snow, is what a sensible person would ask themselves as they saw us race past their house.

We do!, is what I'd shout back at them.

We're zooming down the streets of Sharpsburg like we're late for a wedding, the most ridiculous sight the apocalypse ever did see. Rick, taking the lead just like always, with a guitar bumping around on his back as he pumps the peddles of a pink bike. Carl on the little one, its rainbow streamers blowing out on either side of him without a care in the world. Mouse, sprinting to keep up.

He's going so fast; I think his ears might just fly off and smack me in the face!

It's a challenge to not fall off the handlebars of Dad's bike just from laughing so hard.

I clutch onto it harder as we crest over the top of a hill. Rick goes flying down first, then Carl. Dad wraps an arm around my stomach, hugging me to his chest as we both laugh against each other. We're next. My stomach lurches. My toes go numb. Then we're free-falling, and the tyres are shaking beneath us and the handlebars are jiggling all over the place, the wind racing past us.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out a shriek of, Wuh-Hooooooo!

My heart's beating outta my chest like when a walker's got me in its grasp, when I feel most alive.

Whatever day I've said is the best day of my life — This is it, now. Hands down.

Rick reaches the bottom first, doing a fancy little skid in the snow and glancing over his shoulder at us to see our reaction.

Carl gives him a thumbs down, making him laugh as he turns back around.

The hill flattens out into more suburbia.

We slow down to a more leisurely pace for the rest of the ride back, and simply enjoy the morning together, trailing the sidewalks like a bunch of kids. The sun is well into the sky now, shining through the frigid air without any clouds to cover it up.

When I spot the house in the distance, I'm almost sad.

As we pull into the driveway, bumping over the curb, Glenn stands from his seat on the porch steps.

Hey, guys, He's laughing, perplexed.

Rick answers him with a few flicks of his bell, braking to a stop.

Where'd you go?, He asks, as I jump down from the handlebars.

Carl dumps his bike on the ground and holds up his backpack, shouting, Presents!

He gawks. No shit?

No shit!, He exclaims, running straight past him and up the porch.

I catch Rick sharing a funny look with my Dad, but he lets the swear word go. It's that type of day.

The adrenaline-high don't leave my body even as I follow everyone inside the house, stepping into the busy lounge room. We're greeted by the rest of our group, who are more than awake by now, hugging us as we come through the archway. They're completely beaming. It's obvious. They've heard the great news — We went out in the early morning to do Santa's bidding, for no other reason than because we managed to live long enough to, and because we deserve it. For once, we can ignore everything else and it'll all be okay.

Shrugging off my backpack, I set it down on the coffee table. Carol and Herschel tidy away the empty snack packs as Dad, Rick, and Carl set theirs down, too. Everybody's eyeing the bags excitedly, tryna see if they can make out the goodies inside.

'You guys are sneaky,' T grins, wide enough to show off the gap between his two front teeth. 'Sneaky!'

'Where did you go?!,' Maggie wants to know.

She lounges back on the sofa, Mouse jumping into her lap.

'Town square.' Rick's looking livelier than he has all Winter; all year, maybe. 'We left while you were all asleep.'

T seems to have an epiphany. 'It's you guys!'

'What?,' He asks.

'You're Santa!'

Realizing the man is pulling our legs, Rick rolls his eyes.

Carl goes on to ramble all about our adventures. By the way he's miming it all out, I can tell he ain't leaving out our visit to the playground. Everyone's watching him with nothing but joy in their eyes, adding comments here and there, laughing.

When Beth notices the guitar, my Dad proudly shows it off to the room.

'Harley found it,' He signs, reigning everyone back in, reminding them to use signs. 'Pretty, ain't it?'

Herschel turns to look at me. 'What a wonderful, wonderful gift.'

'I got more,' I tease, giving my backpack a tempting wiggle. I can't wait to give out the rest of the presents!

'Let's just get right into it then, right?,' Rick suggests. 'Go crazy.'

That's all the permission anyone needs.

As the three of them open their backpacks and start handing out presents left and right, I get to opening mine.

The first things I pull out are the stupid shirts for Glenn and T-Dog, walking over to them and putting them in their hands. Maggie's laughing her ass off as they hold them up to their chests, cluelessly peering down at the text. I step back to admire my work. Sorry I'm late, T's shirt reads, and Hell, it's even funnier than I imaged it would be, I was doing my hair! I think he's laughing something like, You little punk, before he glances over at Glenn's to see the damage. I'm with stupid, His says, except the arrow is pointing at his face.

Aw Hell naw!, T-Dog unabashedly laughs.

'Put them on!,' I demand, taking the fabric in my hands. Glenn helps me out, pulling it over what he's already wearing and straightening it out so the message is on full display. T-Dog does the same thing, even if he does call me a punk again.

'How do we look?,' Glenn asks me and Maggie when they're done, giving a stiff twirl.

'Don't answer that,' T-Dog says.

I give Maggie her gift next, the Mascara. She plants a kiss on my cheek and pulls me in for a tight hug, releasing me so I can head over to the other ladies. Carol gratefully takes the magazine, Lori and Beth Oohing and Aahing over the makeup.

It's no 'Electric Spring Citrus', but Beth still seems very touched by the bottle of yellow polish.

Next, I pull out the tennis balls. Boy, does that get Mouse's attention. I rip off the seal, sending them all bouncing across the living room floor, almost tripping some people over. Mouse darts after this one and that one, chasing them all over the place as I hand the socks to Herschel and Rick. They're both delighted, taking turns giving me a hug. We was right. Ya can't go wrong with socks.

'Carl and your Dad have something for you,' Rick tells me as he pulls away, pointing over to them.

I tap Carl on the shoulder, and when the two of them turn around and realize me, his face lights up.

Harley!, He's exclaiming.

He digs through his bag and holds out my two presents.

'Thank you!,' I sign, taking them. Oh, wow. A diary and a packet of colored pencils. I don't gotta squeeze my thoughts into the margins, no more. I got fresh, blank pages, enough to prolly last me a whole year. Giving Carl a hug, I hold up a finger; Wait.

Reaching into my backpack and feeling out the comics, I pause just to be dramatic, before I pull them out for him to see. His jaw drops as he snatches them up. All them months hearing him complain, and watching him read the same volume over and over, makes it all the more satisfying to see him flick through the pages, realizing with mounting horror that it's everything he dreamt of.

Thank you, He's shouting, Thank you!

'Wanna see what I got you?,' Dad says next. 'You can both play with it, but it's for you, okay?'

'Okay! Show me!'

Carl and I crouch down with him as he unzippers his backpack. What he pulls out is not like anything I would've expected.

A big, flat white box with a photo on the front of some kids kicking a soccer ball into a little pop-up goal in the sun.

'Can't play soccer without a goal.' He smirks as I take the box in my hands, ready to tear it open with my teeth if I gotta.

They both help me pick the tape off the cardboard, pulling it open and turning the whole thing upside down. The goal slides out. Having finally been broken out of the confines of its box, it immediately springs into shape, almost smacking us all in the face.

Dodging it with a laugh, I exclaim, 'Thank you, Dad!'

'Do you like it?,' He asks.

'I love it! How do we set it up?'

Looking about, he finds a small baggie of metal stakes that fell out with it, and a page of instructions.

I lean in closer to take a peek as he skims over them, but it all looks simple enough.

'Easy,' He decides. 'We can set it up in the front yard, yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna smoke you both so bad.'

Dad thwacks my arm with the piece of paper. 'Hey. Who said I'm playing?'

'Oh. So, you're scared.' I nod empathetically, feeling smug. 'That's okay. I'm rusty, too.'

'Seriously?'

'I only won three medals when I was in school.'

'I'm old, kid. I'm in my thirties. I'm pretty much dead.'

'Loud and clear. You're scared of losing.'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're a brat. Don't cry when you lose.'

'I've never cried in my life, Dad. Ask Carl.'

As soon as he passes on the question, Carl levels me with the most, Get serious, expression I ever seen in my life.

Whatever. 'I'll still win!'

'We'll see,' He says as I glance at the rest of the group.

'This was so thoughtful of you guys,' Maggie signs from her seat on the sofa, doing that little pout she does.

With all the presents handed out, I take my time looking around the room. T and Glenn are still wearing their t-shirts, of course. If I could have it my way, they wouldn't ever wear anything else. It looks like Rick and Carl gifted Glenn a magazine about race cars, and T-Dog a flashy, gold chain necklace that he manages to make look cool. Lori and Herschel are wearing new matching jackets, the material purple and puffy. They look like father and daughter, sitting there like that, Lori's head resting on the old man's shoulder. Beside them, Carol's blowing air onto Beth's painted nails, while Mouse lays on the floor, gnawing at the tennis ball he must've decided is his favorite.

And Rick. He's not pouring over a map. He's not frowning to himself as he cleans a gun. He's not snapping at one of us to, Stop that, We need to stay focused. He's just smiling faintly next to Glenn, refusing to reveal to anyone this was all his idea.

'I'm just glad there's no wrapping paper to clean up this year,' He chuckles, looking at Lori.

The woman smirks, shaking her head. Bad memories, I guess.

'Every year,' He continues, gesturing to an invisible pile in his lap, 'We would end up with this much.'

'You're not the only ones.' T-Dog scoffs, like this is a lifelong issue he's faced.

'Oh, yeah. You were a garbage man, weren't you?,' Glenn remembers.

'Minimum wage, brother,' He agrees, bringing the pizza-boy in for a bro-hug.

'What have you got there, Harley?,' Maggie asks as they pull apart.

'A soccer goal,' I excitedly answer, before holding up Rick and Carl's presents. 'And a diary and pencils!'

'I don't want you to think it's for schoolwork with Lori,' Rick says. 'Carl just told me he's seen you journalling.'

'I love it,' I shake my head. 'Thank you.'

That bitterness that I'd been feeling toward him, it disappears just as quickly as it came.

'You haven't been writing anything bad about me, have you?,' Glenn asks threateningly.

'Just a little bit,' I shrug.

'She's a brat, isn't she?,' My Dad jokes.

'She's a total brat.'

'Hey! I don't like you, either.'

'Well, Merry Christmas, everyone.' Maggie says to wrap things up. 'Time to take this outside. We got a game to play.'

'Sounds like it,' Rick agrees.

'Come on.' Dad stands back up, grabbing the soccer goal and the stakes.

Jumping up and pulling on Maggie's sleeve, I exclaim up at her, 'We should be on the same team!'

'Girl power,' She agrees, frowning stubbornly as we descend the porch steps.

Mouse goes running out into the snow with his tennis ball. Dad heads over to the fence, setting down the goal and pushing the stakes through the rubber loops to secure it to the ground. I tell him I hope he did a good job of it, because me and Maggie are gonna be making every goal we shoot for. It's Dad and Carl versus us two girls, so the competition is even fiercer. We gotta win!

'We got this,' Maggie goads as T-Dog takes up the goalie position.

Carol pumps her fist in the air. 'Let's go, girls!'

Everyone starts cheering us on as Maggie kicks the ball straight over to me. The game's begun! I stop it with my foot, watching as she skirts around Dad, shouting for me. I boot it back to her at just the right moment, running forwards.

Maggie dukes Dad, left, right, left, before she kicks it right between his feet and back to me.

I stop it again with my foot.

Carl's on me, suddenly. He tries to use his foot to steal the ball away from me, but I don't let him!

Keeping him at arm's length, I line up my shot with the goal. I've done it a million times before. What's one more!

I rear my foot back, and—!

T-Dog's far too big and slow to see it coming. The ball shoots right past him — Goal! — and crashes into the meshing.

'Point for the girls,' Rick announces from the sidelines.

Maggie runs up to me, grabbing my hands and squealing happily, with the boys sulking together in the background.

We end up winning. There's a few close calls here and there, but we're just too quick on our feet for them to really get any smooth moves in. As the winning goal is made by Maggie, Carl stomps his foot into the snow, complaining, Aww, man!

We use every last bit of energy we have left in us to play for the rest of the morning. For once, not just for getting out of bed, or making it through the day. We manage to get a couple more rounds of soccer in before somebody throws a snowball at my Dad while he's trying to kick a goal, and then it all devolves into a snowball fight. There's no teams or rules; just clumps of snow flying across the yard, people falling over, Rick laughing, and Glenn getting dogpiled to the ground until Dad has to come and rescue him from us.

Nobody's really winning, but I don't think anyone's keeping count, anyway. Nobody's losing, either.

Except maybe Carl, when he tanks a snowball directly to the face.

I gasp. Youch!

He wipes it off with a grin, scurrying off to start preparing some returning fire.

I hurry to join him behind the wall of snow, bulking up my snowball before launching it at one of the adults.

It hits Glenn in the jaw. He lurches; falls onto his ass.

Me and Carl share a high five!

To think I was dreading coming back to this town, when it's actually given me one of the best days of my life.

Is it bad I'm happy the world ended?

Probably, but I don't care.

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

I can hear light birdsong in the trees.

We've stopped again, on some highway or other. I'on know. They all look the same to me. Grey road, winding up a hill, flanked on both sides by a strip of dirt and twigs. While the others get outta the cars, slamming their doors shut and grouping together to discuss what's next, I turn my head away from them and gaze out the passenger side window. The sun warms my face. I remember back during the Wintertime; we hardly ever saw the sun. Hell. That was forever ago. Nowadays, we been fending off heatstroke, feels like.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sounds around me. Leaves brushing, idle engines rumbling.

There are a lot of moments like this for me, where I'll just ignore what everyone else is doing and listen. I'll listen to anything. The car radio, if anybody's got it playing, even if it's a song I don't like. A river flowing. A deer trilling. It's the best part of my day.

"We got nowhere else to go," Herschel's suddenly saying, and then I'm opening my eyes again.

The group is gathered around the hood of the car I'm sat up in, splaying a map out for them to study.

"When this herd meets up with this one," Maggie points, "We'll be cut off. We'll never make it South."

"What'd you say it was? About 150 head?" Dad estimates.

"That was last week." Glenn's shaking his head, squinting against the sun. "It could be twice that by now."

I've heard this exact conversation about thirty times over by now.

That herd from last year; It's thawed and split into two, and neither are getting any smaller. The more they walk, the more they pick up. It's how it's always gone. They been following us, and we been running. That's how that's always gone, too.

We had a couple places we holed up for a while. Sharpsburg served us well while it lasted, but we had to move, eventually.

Now, we're back on the run.

"The river could've delayed them," Herschel suggests. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."

"Yeah, but if that group joins with that one, they could spill out this way."

"So, we're blocked."

We're always blocked, I want to tell Maggie. You know this by now.

In moments like these, I think back to the day we had that snowball fight and try to remember what everyone's smiles looked like.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27," Rick says, "And swing back this way."

Rick's different. For Rick, I think back to the bike ride.

T-Dog's getting frustrated. "We picked through that place, already. It's like we spent the past five months going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

"Is this what we're doing, then?"

When Rick nods, T-Dog asks him, "Is it alright if we head down to the river to fill up on water, then?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," He says as they disperse, Maggie rolling up the map.

Herschel whispers something to Rick, then, and I can't quite catch it. My hearing aids ain't that good, but I know it's about Lori because they glance over at her in the car behind me. It's probably the, She can't keep doing this, conversation. Like always, Rick's wiping his sweaty forehead, bullshitting his way through an answer, and like always, Herschel is patient with him. They know he's right.

Lori's about to burst, way her stomach's been looking these days. She's gonna give birth any day now.

I'm just glad she got better and stayed better.

That was a nasty sickness.

Herschel leaves Rick to think about what he's said, making an opening for Dad to ask him to go hunting.

I'm surprised when he turns to me. "You wanna come, chicken?"

There's that Southern twang I once forgot the sound of.

'Come hunting with you?,' I sign, just outta habit. Sometimes, my voice is just too loud for me to bare.

"Yeah. You can stretch yer legs a little. How 'bout it?"

Not wanting to spend one more second in this car, I agree by opening the door and jumping onto the tarmac.

He whistles for Mouse, and then we're walking into the treeline.

"Carl says it was blue, but the boy's blind," I ramble to Rick as we walk along the train tracks, keeping an eye out for animals.

"Between the pair'a ya," Dad muses from in front of us. "You almost make a full vegetable."

"Shut up, Daddy. You ain't funny."

He snickers a little before facing forward again, crossbow at the ready. "Sure I ain't."

"Anyway." I sigh as he pushes a leafy branch outta the way. Rick ducks under it, and then me. "Like I's sayin'—"

When I look up, the sight that greets me has all words dying on my tongue. I slowly catch up with Dad and Rick, who have also completely forgotten about the story I was telling. It weren't very interesting, anyway. Something about a frog Carl and I found the other day. The sun beats down on us as we look out over the sheer drop just in front of us, and at the rolling, green hills in the distance.

Well, I'll be goddamned.

That right there is a whole ass prison.

End Notes.

Okay that's it. I cannot edit this chapter any longer. What's done is done!!

WE ARE FINALLY IN SEASON 3 !! It only took a year and 28 chapters.

I'm very glad to be back in canon again, but writing Christmas with the group was so fun. Also very glad to be able to write Daryl's accent and slang properly again haha. It just didn't translate into sign language. I know some of you will also be relieved that we're not using it much anymore.

As always, I really hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Until next time! 💙 :)

35 notes · View notes

frenziedslashers · 2 years

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Hey sweetheart 👉🏼👈🏼💗

It's one of those days where I'm thinking about Rick...(again and probably too intensely hihi) but I'm a bit curious 🤭 what do you think are his biggest kinks?

I'm pretty sure about everything that involves calling him Sir or Sheriff...yk something about him being an authority drives him crazy (and it drives ME crazy) 👉🏼👈🏼💗

Yeah just me and my dirty mind...I know I know hihi 💗

Hi hunny! Glad to see you in my ask box for our man 🫶

ALSO FAIR, my days alternate. One day it is Rick, the next it is Daryl, every so often when I decide to forget what he did - it's Negan. I have a couple that I think he would be into? It really depends on the perspective and these are just my general headcanons (Looking at the anons I had to delete last week that told me Rick or Daryl wouldn't be into some of the kinks I think they are smh). So this is purely fictional opinion LMAO

Let's get into it then!

Kinks I think Rick Grimes has 😼

NSFT UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI!!

I purely believe that S1 to about S3 Rick is fairly vanilla. He has ideas of what he likes or would like, but Lori would never let him express those fantasies. She just seems dry and lame, it could be my beef with her, too.

Authority Kink:

Starting off strong, I do 100% believe that this man has an authority kink. I think most people in law do, tbh. It just inflates his ego and he loves it. He loves Sir, Sheriff, even Deputy if you wanna be teasing. (He does not like being called Daddy though. I think Rick is too used to people calling him Carl and Judith's Daddy, or hearing Maggie call Hershel her Daddy, so he doesn't like associating the word with a sexual term.)

Bondage:

I think he'd be a rope bunny... JOKING- Unless??

No, but fr, I think he would be into light bondage. Whether it be on you or himself, he doesn't mind. Though his more stressful days when he just wants to fuck you until you're an absolute mess. Or when he's in more of a Dom mood, he prefers tying you up. He wouldn't argue too much if you bat your eyes and ask to tie him up though. You've got him wrapped around your finger.

Oral Fixation:

I am convinced that he has an oral fixation. He loves giving head (and receiving) and also putting his mouth on other parts of your body.

Marking:

Idk the actual term for this one, but to tie in with the above. Rick loves it when you both mark each other up. He especially likes marking you up. Hickeys, bites, when you leave scratches on his arms or back. He loves letting the world know who you both belong to.

Breeding:

This one is only really for the marking. He loves stuffing you full of himself and knowing that he's the only one that can cum in you. Even if he's wearing a condom and you tell him to cum in you and he really can't, it's enough to definitely make him orgasm. He would only be into the baby aspect if you were willing to have kids, you both talked about it, and he knew you and the baby would be safe. He's going batshit if you guys do settle down and have a kid. Even if you just talk about adopting one he's got heart eyes for you and he's fucking you good.

Masochist:

I don't know why, but for some reason I believe that he gets a kick out of you hurting him. I have this tho(ugh)t a lot about hate fucking with rick all because you slapped him and he just went ballistic, idk. I think he likes pain, something in his face when he's fighting. It could be anywhere from you scratching or biting him. To the rug burn on his wrists when you bind him to the bed posts. When you tug on his hair, or even if you do slap him a little in bed (Nothing hard though!)

Knife Play:

I think he wouldn't mind using a knife in bed. He wouldn't actually cut you, even if you asked he wouldn't. He doesn't want to give you any more scars than this world has already bestowed upon you. He just likes the trust behind it, and the danger. He's an adrenaline junkie and no one can tell me otherwise.

Being bossed around:

He gets MAD horny when you boss him around and tell him what to do. If you raise your voice and tell him to do something while you both are out on a run he's following you around like a bitch in heat. He's staring at you with this hunger in his eyes and he gets whimpery if you keep bossing him around in the bedroom. Grab his hair and pull his face to yours while telling him to strip and get on the bed. He's whining and nodding his head, he's on cloud nine.

Voyerism:

I do think he likes watching you touch yourself. He wouldn't watch you sleep with someone else unless he trusted them - like MAYBE Daryl, but he'd still be uneasy with it. He's too possessive for that and wouldn't really be too into the idea with how possessive Daryl is as well. He does like coming home to find you pleasuring yourself while chanting his name like a prayer. He might watch for a little bit like a creep, palm himself through his jeans, and then finally join you in there. He knows he can do better than your hand.

Using you?:

I don't know what this would be categorized as, or if this is a kink, but he loves coming home stressed and overworked and using you like a doll. Fucking you until all his pent-up frustration has left. Don't worry, he'll take care of you after and during, he's not going to completely use you.

Praise:

PRAISE HIM- He is so into it. He hardly gets praised by anyone besides his work as a leader - hardly as just a person. So when you start praising him he seeks you out for validation. If you do it in the bedroom he gets all dizzy and bubbly inside. He loves it when you tell him how good he makes you feel. Or how handsome he is. Or just anything kind, he loves it all. He praises you a lot as well. Overall just something he always does with you, during or outside of sex.

Degradation:

Now, just because he loves praise doesn't mean he won't degrade you. He loves telling you how much of a slut you are for him. "You like that, huh? Like it when I fuck you dumb? Wanna let everyone hear ya scream m'name. Let 'em all know how big of a whore you are." He gets a little too into it sometimes, but if you don't like it all you have to do is tell him and he'll stop. It just feeds into his authority kink in a way.

I can't really think of any more right now, but those are the main ones I have!

#rick grimes #rick Grimes x reader #notsfw #minors dni #Catt <3 #twd #the walking dead #rick Grimes smut #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader

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melaniem54 · 6 months

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Review: Oracles Always Win (Willow Lake Supernaturals Book 3) by Lori Ames

Rating: 4.5🌈 Oracles Always Win is a fantastic book, a favorite read in a great series by Lori Ames about a small town of mixed paranormal species living among humans, all magically harmonious. That changed when a small pack of werewolves lead by a disgruntled were started a chain of serious crimes that eventually lead to the arrival of Gage, a demon, and his crew from the Supernatural…

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#newbookreleases #A MelanieM Review #author Lori Ames #LGBTGIA paranormal romance #mate bond #Review: Oracles Always Win (Willow Lake Supernaturals Book 3) by Lori Ames #Scattered Thoughts Highly Recommended

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hoes4hoseok · 2 years

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how you get the girl part ii: heeseung’s advice on keeping dry in a storm

previous ☆ next ☆ series masterlist

your neighbor, heeseung, gets on your nerves. he’s full of himself, makes more noise than all of your neighbors combined in the middle of the night, spreads anti-superhero propaganda in your political science class, and, unfortunately, is the most attractive man you have ever laid eyes on.

pairing :: lee heeseung x fem!reader featuring :: jake sim, jeon somi, kim sunoo, and more! genres/au’s :: superhero au, neighbors to lovers, enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, angst if you squint, nightwing!heeseung chapter warnings :: mentions of and references to sex, minor violence, suggestive chapter word count :: 6.1k tag list :: @thejjrl @grace1852 @tsunchani @hanniiesuckle17 @mjr4fnaf1997 @goldenhypen @3nh4luvr @hobistigma @ditzie-s @nomy0520 @foreshadxw @koroktsuya @beansworldsstuff author’s note :: prior knowledge of nightwing and DC comics is not necessary to read this work! also ty to @lethekoo for all your help :) playlist :: here’s to you but in this chapter you should listen to umbrella by rihanna and jay-z at the end hehe

two of the plot points in this chapter are heavily based on smallville. the episodes are called 'devoted' 4x04 and 'exposed' 5x06. check them out if you haven't! I love that show so much <3 also! i hope y'all enjoy the little batgirl and starfire references :) && please let me know what you think if you have the time! it really helps me improve and motivates me to continue <3

2. Reliability A woman wants someone who shows up.

THE NEXT DAY…

“He didn’t get away, did he?” Jake asked, spitting his toothpaste into the sink.

“Nope. I got him,” Heeseung replied, sitting on Jake’s bed as his friend got ready. “He took a vial from the chemistry professor’s lab, but I’m not sure what it is. I’ll take a look at the sample later,”

Heeseung had come over to Jake’s place as soon as he woke up—which was 11 AM.

“Then…what is this meeting for?” Jake wiped his face with a look of skepticism, “you said it was urgent, right?”

“I told Y/n that I have a girlfriend,” Heeseung started, “but, obviously, I don’t,”

“So?” Jake shrugged. “You lie to people all the time,”

“Well, I think I need to stop the fake sex thing,” Heeseung added, “she can’t sleep because of it and it’s messing up her life,”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay…what do you wanna do instead?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe I’ll make a tape of me singing. Or dancing. That’s loud, right?”

“I thought the whole point was to make it quieter,” Jake reminded him, now sitting on a chair across from his bed, “do you have something to tell me? Did the informal debate really rattle you?”

“No, I feel guilty,” Heeseung groaned, leaning toward his friend. “Last night, I saw her walking around Halyard Street alone and the guy who broke into Lori Lab pushed her out of his way. If I hadn’t been there, she would’ve fallen face-first into the street! But the only reason she was out there in the first place is that I was ‘having sex’ with a girl who I haven’t seen in months!”

Jake was at a loss for words. He had gotten used to Heeseung’s wild stories, but this one was unlike any other he had been told.

“Okay…” he started, “so…stop faking the sex thing. Yeah, sounds good,”

“What if,” Heeseung’s eyes lit up, “what if you moved in with me? Then, if she ever knocks, you can come up with an excuse for me!”

“No. I will not,” Jake shut down the idea instantly, “you’re a terrible roommate. I know you’re still getting over your last girlfriend, but you’ll be sleeping around again soon enough. Dealing with the walks of shame and the Nightwing shenanigans? Count me out,”

“Fine,” Heeseung huffed, “I could also move out and find a new place. The frat bros won’t mind the noise or doubt its authenticity!”

“You’re not moving out, Heeseung,” Jake rolled his eyes, “just tell her ‘sorry’ and stop the sex. She’s not going to break into your apartment in the middle of the night, she’ll assume you’re asleep, like a normal human being!”

Heeseung paused for a moment to contemplate before nodding, “you’re right. I’m being irrational,”

“Thank goodness,” Jake breathed a sigh of relief, “Y/n has consumed way too much of your time. She’s all you ever talk about,”

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, snapping out of his momentarily caring nature, “she’s just always got the snarkiest comments about me—she’s kind of a slut shamer,”

“No, she’s a ‘slut that doesn’t let me get a wink of sleep’ shamer,” Jake corrected the older boy, “it’s basically the only thing you guys fight about,”

“It is the only thing we fight about,” Heeseung reiterated as he stood up from the bed, “looks like I need to break up with my ex-girlfriend,”

So…how does one apologize to their neighbor for being inconsiderate and also putting them in danger without completely compromising their secret identity? Easy! Don’t. Just hope that the wound will heal on its own.

The Scoop’s bullpen was always bustling from sun up to sun down, which was why Somi and Y/n typically liked to work on their side projects at night. It was more private and peaceful that way, especially since they didn’t have families awaiting their return. Yet…they were here at noon on a day with heavy rain—it was not pretty.

“Ugh, we’ve been at this for two hours,” Y/n groaned, her head resting on the desk before her, “every single lead has given us a dead end!”

“We’re close. I can feel it,” Somi insisted. “If our theory is correct and the guy who was chasing you is the same one who robbed your professor’s Lab, chances are we can figure out what he stole using these old articles,”

Somi, after learning about Y/n’s run-in with the boy in blue, had dragged her to the Scoop so that they could work on identifying the man who pushed her—with any luck, it could connect to their own puzzle. Regardless, it would help debunk the ridiculous ‘Crime Rates Soar Upon 2021 Arrival of Nightwing’ article.

“I know, it’s just that the university section is kind of…bland,” Y/n reasoned, “not to mention the fact that my hand is cramping from all the notes we’re taking,”

“Sorry,” Somi moved her head from behind her computer to give her friend a sympathetic look. “No one has brought in a new printer yet and resources are kind of scarce on our floor,”

“They haven’t taken out the old one, either. This piece of junk is still here!” Y/n added, striking the side of the printer with her palm.

Unexpectedly, the familiar mechanical whirring of the printer began once again. Damn, she should’ve tried that five notebook pages earlier.

“Yes!” Somi exclaimed in happiness, rushing over to Y/n’s side of the desk. “You beautiful genius, thank you!”

“No problem,” Y/n laughed, looking over at the machine beside her. “Although…I don’t think I fixed it,” It had begun to print something, they just didn’t know what.

“Oh,” Somi frowned, picking up the first page, which had a large, loopy, and uppercase ‘a’ in the middle of it. “Whoever printed this made the font size way too big,”

“Yeah, and they must have been the first to do it after it stopped working,” Y/n took the paper from Somi’s hand, “I’ve seen this font before,”

“Where?” Somi asked, picking the sheets up as the printer continued to produce more papers. “In real life, or online?”

“No idea. It just looks familiar,” she answered, peeking over to look at the freshly printed pages. “Are they all different letters?”

“Yeah,” Somi replied, “A, E, K, V, U, and N. A is the only uppercase one so far,”

“Wait!” Y/n grabbed the newest sheet, “Our first number!”

After the printer stopped running, Somi scrawled the complete set of letters and numbers onto Y/n’s notebook.

A e k v u n 2 2 5 k 7 u S e 6 n

“We have to unscramble it, right?” Somi asked. “What else could this be for?”

“You’re right, it’s gotta be a message,” Y/n nodded, scanning the large room of busy reporters. “Who do you think it was meant for, though?”

“Mr. Kim, maybe?” Somi began, uncertainty in her voice, “it does seem unlikely though. Why send a message to Mr. Kim through a printer on the first floor?”

“It could also just be a printing error,” Y/n reasoned, “it was broken until a few minutes ago, after all,”

“Nope. What kind of printing error would give us this result?” Somi shook her head, sitting on the floor next to her friend’s chair with a look of determination. “Let’s unscramble it first and ask questions later—a story is a story!”

“I have…save, snake, sunk, skunk, ask, and suave,” Y/n read from her list of unscrambled words, “What did you come up with?”

After seven and a half minutes of silence, Y/n and Somi had collectively come up with 13 words starting with A or S from the letters they were given. Well, minus the repeats. So, more accurately, 11.

“Anus, sank, sane, suave, avenues, seven, and save,” Somi read, tapping her pen against the table.

“Avenue!” Y/n exclaimed in realization, “it’s an address!”

“You’re right!” Somi gasped, “Skunk Avenue!”

Skunk Avenue was quite possibly the most rundown street in Bludhaven. It consisted of abandoned buildings left and right, with a couple of bars and motels in the mix.

“Well, luckily, there should only be a few options that our address could be,” Somi stood up in anticipation, pulling up a chair to join Y/n at her desk. “Could you pull it up online?”

“Sure,” Y/n replied, typing away at her keyboard. “It looks like most of the addresses start with ‘two-two’, so we only have to worry about five, seven, and six,”

“Okay,” Somi took to her notebook once again, writing the possible combinations on the page before her. “22567…22576…”

Y/n shook her head as she scanned the map.

“22756…22765…” Somi continued, “22657…and 22675”

“Bingo,” Y/n grinned, “22657 and 22675 both are real addresses on Skunk Street. Check it out,”

Y/n had pulled up images of both addresses—the first depicted a run-down building with broken windows and a neon sign which read ‘MOTEL 8: HOURLY PAYMENT’.

“Well…that’s questionable enough to be our place,” Somi began, her brows furrowed in focus, “let’s see the other,”

The second image showed a modest gray structure, but it was the name printed below the picture that caught the women’s attention.

‘The Four-Leaf Clover Club’

“Also sketchy…” Somi thought aloud. “We should strike both addresses, for sure,”

“Oh, oh!” Y/n gasped, gathering a few glares from around the room. “I just remembered where I’ve seen the printed font! It was one of my textbooks! Fuck, which one was it?!”

“Political science? Writing?” Somi listed her courses, “Environmental ethics?”

“Nope,” Y/n shook her head, dragging her bag over to pull out a large textbook, “It was biochemistry,”

“Biochemistry?” Somi repeated. “As in the professor who was robbed last night?”

“Yup,” Y/n skipped through the pages, “here. The same font as the puzzle,”

‘Phenylethylamine: The Love Drug’

“That’s great, but wouldn’t every section have the title in the same font?”

“Nope,” Y/n countered, now smiling from pride, “Every chapter has a theme—that’s why this one is all fancy,”

Somi held her hand up for a high-five, “So, we got the answer to today’s question after all. Phenylethylamine was stolen from the lab last night, and, for some reason, someone wants ‘us’ to think it’s linked to the club or the motel,”

“Exactly,” Y/n stood up from her seat in excitement, “get your umbrella, let’s go!”

Despite the fact that they had, in fact, brought an umbrella, Somi and Y/n wound up drenched within an hour.

The motel was a dead-end. It was empty (unless you count a few rats seeking shelter), cold, and Y/n could have sworn they were being watched. Somi wanted to stay a little longer in case something came up or they found a clue, but Y/n insisted it would be easier when it was dry. Luckily, Somi agreed. So, they headed home to recharge before checking out the club.

“Y/n? Hi,” Y/n jerked her head up at the familiar voice as she headed up the stairs to her apartment.

Oh. Heeseung. Typically, there was always something, or some noise, that reminded her of the boy next door—but for the longest time since he moved in, Y/n had forgotten about him (or so she thought).

Naturally, for Heeseung, the opposite was true.

“Hi, Heeseung,” Y/n gave a nod of acknowledgment as she continued.

“You look wet,” Heeseung frowned from his doorstep as Y/n arrived at the landing, “and cold…what were you doing out in the storm without a raincoat?”

“Reporter stuff,” she dismissed him. (I don’t blame her. I’d be eager to get back into dry clothes too.)

“Okay,” Heeseung muttered, sensing her cold attitude. As much as he disliked it, he couldn’t blame her. “Well…I just bought an extra coffee for Jake, but it seems like he’s not going to make it. It’s yours if you want it,”

“No thanks, I only drink decaf,” she replied, unlocking the door to her apartment. That’s right, Y/n. Don’t get closer.

“Perfect. It’s decaf,” Heeseung smiled, backing into his room to retrieve the cup.

“Oh…thanks,” Y/n tilted her head in surprise as she approached him, a smirk forming on her lips, “but how do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Heeseung hummed, leaning against the doorframe before taking a large sip of the coffee. “Mmm. The best,”

“Thank you, Heeseung,” Y/n smiled, grabbing the cup from the man’s grip, their fingers touching momentarily. “I’ll see you on Monday. Or before that, if you decide to be a dick out of nowhere,”

Oh, they’d see each other before Monday, alright.

Heeseung let out a partly suppressed laugh as he swung his door shut, “yeah, see you around,”

That man had infectious laughter. It made Y/n weak. ‘He’s a dick, Y/n. He’s a dick,’ she repeated to herself, heading back towards her door.

“Huh…that’s odd,” she whispered to herself, staring at the cup as she entered her room.

Brenda’s Cafe Start your day with a smile! decaf coffee two sugars two creamers

“Looks like Jake and I have the same coffee order,” she smiled to herself, reveling in the uncanny coincidence before taking a large sip of coffee.

“I’m outside, Y/n,”

“Alright, I’ll be out in just a minute,” Y/n replied to her friend, juggling her phone, lipstick, and bag, “stay dry!”

It had taken Y/n an absurd amount of time to get ready. Sure, she was only going to a club, but she had been otherwise occupied since getting an internship at the Scoop last summer. She was a little rusty, to say the least.

“Dress hot,” had been Somi’s only instruction, so she opted for a tight blue dress.

As she looked in the mirror one last time before heading out the door, Y/n took a deep breath and grabbed her raincoat from its hook. After all, Heeseung was right—they’re much more effective in storms than umbrellas.

When Y/n finally reached the ground floor, Somi was standing alone on her phone, a yellow writing pad sticking out of her purse. After noticing that her friend had joined her, she looked up with a grin.

“You look smoking hot,” Somi looked Y/n up and down, gesturing to the glitter and barrette on her head. “I love the hair!”

“Thank you,” Y/n smiled, nudging the blonde, “no hotter than you,”

Somi wore a silver sequined dress and platform boots, making her tower above the other people in the lobby. “Thanks—as much as I’d love to exchange compliments all night, we have somewhere to be,” Somi tilted her head in the direction of the door, “let’s go,”

For some reason, Y/n and Somi had not anticipated being turned away at the door. They probably should have.

“Come on, our friend’s already in there!” Y/n reasoned with the large man before her, “Please?”

“Yeah, it’s her only night in town,” Somi added, impressed with Y/n’s improvisation.

“Sorry, ladies. Private club,” he stood up even straighter than he already was, crossing his arms as if he was guarding the gates of hell. This guy wasn’t going to budge. He probably got paid too much to accept flirting as bribery, either. Somi recognized this fairly quickly.

And so, they walked away. “Alright we need to get in there one way or another,” Somi rubbed her hands together. It wasn’t clear whether she was excited or just cold, but I figure it was both.

“Well…” Y/n gestured to the area behind Somi, where two women stood. One wore a short, colorful peacock costume while the other wore a bedazzled cowboy getup with denim shorts. “...there’s always that option,”

Somi glanced behind her for a moment before turning back toward her friend once again. “Oh my god, you’re right. Our one pole dancing class from three months ago is finally gonna pay off! Lead the way,”

“Okay…first of all, of course, I am…but second of all, there is no way I’m ready to pretend to be a stripper right now,” Y/n shook her head violently, “I need at least three to five business days' notice to build that kind of confidence,”

“Look, if you really don’t want to, I’m not going to force you,” Somi explained, placing her hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “But I’d be right behind you the whole time, cheering you on and/or watching your back. Depends on what you’re scared of. And you’d get to be a really sexy firefighter for a night,”

Y/n paused for a moment of contemplation. Sure, she was scared. But…after all, they do say “if you’re scared to do it, do it scared”, right? And she truly believed that Somi would be there for her. So, what the hell?

“Fine. I’ll do it for the story,” Y/n took the beaming blonde by her arm, “Let’s get in there before I change my mind,”

The dressing room was filled with various leopards in corsets and pilots in garters walking past the imposters, who stood frozen by the door. Y/n felt her chest tighten at the thought of wearing one of their outfits onstage for a crowd of droolers. Do it scared, do it scared, do it scared.

“I probably should’ve asked you this before pulling you into the dressing room, but what is our cover story?” she muttered under her breath.

“Just follow my lead,” Somi whispered back, guiding Y/n to the costume racks in the back row, “now act natural,”

Somi started rifling through the outfits on the rack: a way too patriotic stars and stripes set, various animals, a sexy leprechaun costume (definitely hopefully a seasonal pick)—the options were plentiful.

“This one will do tonight,” Somi spoke loudly, clearing her throat, “I wore the leprechaun look last night, after all,”

Y/n resisted the urge to laugh as Somi picked a black latex outfit off the rack, “Alright…I’ll take…” Y/n’s eyes scanned the options.

“Look, I’m gonna take this to ‘change’ while I check out that office. I’ll bet it has the info we need—”

“Hey, you two,” A deep voice boomed from across the room, immediately ensuing panic in Y/n’s head, “I take it you’re the replacements Rocko sent over?”

Wow did they get lucky…

Somi turned to face the blonde man as he approached, “Yup,” she started, eyes wide. While Somi being nervous isn’t something Y/n witnessed often, it was fairly easy to detect.

“Great,” the man nodded, pulling a list from his suit jacket’s pocket. “I have you two booked an hour from now, though…” He looked up from his paper, awaiting an explanation.

Y/n shook her head, glancing at the clock. 8:51. “I don’t know about that. Rocko told me my slot was at 9 PM,”

“Yeah, mine is at 9:10 PM,” Somi added, “there must have been a mistake somewhere,”

“Well, I’ll give Rocko a call—”

“No!” the women exclaimed in panic.

The man furrowed his eyebrows, glancing between the two. “Sorry?”

“It’s just that we don’t want him to be mad,” Somi clarified, “…in case it’s our fault,”

“We’re willing to go in an hour, the slots you had us down for,” Y/n continued, “we don’t want to cause any problems,”

“No, it’s alright, I’ll take care of it,” He gave Y/n a tight-lipped smile, “better get ready—you’re on in eight minutes. Your outfits are marked on the rack,”

Somi breathed a sigh of relief as the suited man walked away. “Alright…new plan. After we get dressed, I’ll take a peek in the office while you’re on stage,”

“I hate that plan,” Y/n retorted, her breath quickening. “but I did volunteer myself for it, you have the more stressful job, and I think my adrenaline will compensate for the fear,”

“Great,” Somi nodded, the same determined look on her face from at the Scoop, “Let’s strip,”

The outfit was on. Y/n was getting used to walking in seven-inch heels from all the pacing she was doing. It was now 8:58 PM. Y/n had come to peace with what she was about to do—how? She realized what the best way to handle the stress was—pretending she was a stripper.

So, she pulled on her deep purple get-up, smeared some more lipstick on her lips, and took some deep breaths. She could do it. No problem. Easily. Hopefully. Maybe.

As she walked up to the black steps in her impossibly high heels, Y/n could finally see the stage. There were three poles on it, but only one was being used—clearly, this was going to be a focused show. Lucky her. The final minute felt faster than the ones before it. Time flies when you’re having fun, right?

Before she knew it, it was 9 PM and the familiar beat of Umbrella by Rihanna and JAY-Z had started playing. That’s her cue!

Y/n felt her body take control as she ascended the steps. One foot in front of the other (at least that’s what she assumed).

“Now, give a warm welcome to…Violet Cherry!”

Y/n felt the stares of the crowd following her every movement as she walked to the center of the stage, where the pole was mounted.

She started by slowly unbuttoning the shirt she had on over her corset as JAY-Z’s verse began, reminding herself that this was her job and that she did this every day—she took that whole ‘pretending she was a stripper’ thing very seriously.

Stripping was awkward. She knew it would be. Y/n wasn’t completely sure how to take off her shirt and skirt in a way that would appeal to the whole crowd, but she pulled it off (haha get it) pretty well. It didn’t feel that way, but that didn’t make it untrue.

And then it started getting easier. Y/n had only learned two things in her first pole dancing class with Somi, but she juiced the hell out of those two things. By the time the chorus began, she was feeling fairly comfortable onstage. She spun, she posed, she twirled, and she posed again—it was a pretty solid routine for a woman who had an hour and a half of experience.

As the bridge began, Y/n held onto the pole with both arms behind her before sliding down into a squat, when she looked straight into the crowd. While the move was a nice addition to the routine, it was a terrible decision.

There, staring right back into Y/n’s petrified eyes like a deer in headlights, was a much more petrified Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung was not a man who went to strip clubs often. He had a couple of times, for friends’ birthdays or missions, but he never went just for recreation. He did not think a strip club was the best chance he was going to get at finding the lab thief’s boss—his classic waiting and watching usually does the trick, after all.

Jake disagreed—and unfortunately, he was right. He had to be inside to hear the secrets. Thus, he went. Lucky for him, his platinum credit card was all he needed to show them to enter—they let him right in. Honestly, Somi chose the wrong resident of Safehaven Apartments to befriend.

After Heeseung gave his name to the bouncer, he was seated immediately in what they called “the best seat in the house”.

“Hi, welcome to the Four-Leaf Clover Club!” His waitress greeted him warmly, removing the pencil from behind her ear, “What can I get for you?”

“Just water,” he dismissed the woman with a smile. He doesn’t drink on the job, he isn’t an idiot. “I’ve gotta drive home,”

“Sure, one water coming right up,” she wrote on her pad, “have a great night,”

He redirected his attention to the people circulating through the dimly purple-lit room. There were plenty of strippers wearing various types of bras and shorts, some of them dancing near guests while others served drinks. Most of the guests were men of various ages, but a few women were dispersed among the tables and seats.

“Nightwing, come in,” Heeseung adjusted his earpiece, “anyone looking suspicious?”

Jake was going to be his ears for the night—in fact, he usually was, at least now that Heeseung and Batgirl split.

“It’s Heeseung tonight,” the older man reminded him in a mumble, “and yes—literally everyone looks guilty,”

“I’ll try to ID some people in the security camera footage then,” Jake replied, “For now, you can turn your mic off, maybe actually have some fun. The other ones you set up should suffice,”

“I’m on a mission, I’m not going to—”

“Here’s that water for you!” The recently returned waitress began, placing the condensation-coated glass on the table, “Just give me a holler if you need anything else,”

“Thanks,” Heeseung nodded politely as she walked away, his eyes following her briefly to ensure she didn’t return. “As I was saying, I’m not going to…oh my god,”

“What? What happened? Did you recognize someone?”

He did recognize someone, but not quite in the manner Jake was implying.

Heeseung did not need glasses. Anytime he wore them in public was purely for aesthetic purposes. But his eyes just had to be deceiving him in one way or another because Y/n was taking off her shirt in the middle of the stage.

“Heeseung!” Jake exclaimed, “What happened?!”

“N-nothing,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from Y/n’s body as she tossed away her shirt. “I need to talk to someone in here. I’ll turn my mic on when I’m done,”

“Well, shouldn’t I listen in if you’re gonna make a move?” Jake countered. “...Heeseung?”

It was too late. Heeseung’s mic was already off and he was losing his mind.

He tried not to look at his neighbor’s routine for about twenty seconds until he remembered that he was, in fact, undercover at the strip club.

What was she even doing there?

Of course, it was possible that she was newly a stripper, but it wasn’t likely—Heeseung was an observant neighbor, after all. Plus, he was watching her now. Yes, she looked good…really good…but her dancing was not ‘the most exclusive club in Bludhaven’ good. So…if she isn’t really a stripper…why was she here?

She was wearing purple. Heeseung liked purple, not that it’s relevant. A purple corset, purple platform heels, purple shorts, and, pinned in her hair, a silver barrette. Her makeup…was blue.

Heeseung didn’t know everything about makeup, but he did know that Y/n wouldn’t have worn blue eyeshadow knowing she was going to be wearing purple. She didn’t know she’d be doing this.

He knew better than to assume Y/n had been forced to do this, but he couldn’t rule it out. So he thought about the last time he saw her back at the apartment building. Was there anything that—Jeon Somi.

No, he didn’t remember Y/n mentioning her friend—he literally saw Somi in the window of the office by the stage. What the fuck were these two up to?

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay don’t be alarmed, come into me,”

And…he was watching Y/n again. To be fair, it was kind of what he was supposed to do while undercover at a strip club.

“So gon’ and let the rain pour,”

As Y/n wrapped her hands around the pole, a newfound type of confidence gracing her performance, cheers and whistles erupted from the audience. Heeseung’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“I’ll be all you need and more,” She sunk down the length of the pole, Heeseung’s breath hitching as she did so. She had a look of lust on her face as she looked into the crowd. Up to the moment where, of course…

She saw him. Fuck, she saw him while he was staring right at her and she was going to think he was a total weirdo because what excuse does he have for being here? And she still thinks he has a girlfriend!

She was clearly just as rattled as Heeseung because she stood up a few seconds later, completely abandoning her previous “who cares” confidence. A pang of familiar guilt rose in Heeseung as Y/n started walking offstage and applause rose in the audience once again. Until he realized that she was headed straight into the crowd. And his table. Oh, God. He needed a cover story. Jake…Heeseung could usually use Jake for his lies in one way or another, right?

“Heeseung! Come in, Heeseung!” What a neat coincidence.

Heeseung fumbled to turn on his microphone, “I’m here. Now is not the best time, though, so—”

“I finished the ID checks of most of the club,” Jake continued, ignoring Heeseung’s words, “the man wearing a rust bowtie in the southeast corner of the building is our guy. The whole table is involved in it!”

“Now is really not the time, Jake,”

“Fine, I’ll tell you the details after you give me the go,” he sighed.

Y/n was getting closer, her eyes shifting everywhere but at Heeseung. As she looked beyond the scaffolding of the balcony, she stopped in her tracks momentarily. She saw something. Heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed.

What could she have seen?

“Hey there…” Y/n finally looked at Heeseung again, approaching his desk with a smile plastered on her face, “...handsome,”

“Hi, Velvet…Cash?” Heeseung struggled to recall her stripper name. Clearly, Y/n didn’t want anyone to know she wasn’t a stripper. He wasn’t about to ruin that. Plus, if it was clear they were friends acquaintances, Heeseung could be putting her in danger. Again.

By this time, she had one hand on the table and another wrapped around the corner of Heeseung’s chair. This club clearly had terrible circulation, because looking up at her made him feel like someone hid a space heater in his suit jacket.

“It’s Cherry. Velvet Cherry,” Y/n bent over further, forcing her words through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, you had a girlfriend,”

“Nope, she dumped me,” Heeseung replied in a hushed tone, “I’m just here because Jake wanted me to come, he’s meeting me in ten minutes. He thought it’d be good for my…heart,”

“Try again,” Y/n groaned, trying her best not to roll her eyes, “I know that’s a lie,”

“...fine,” Y/n lifted Heeseung’s chin with her finger as he spoke, “My professor got robbed. I’m here to try to find out who did it. My girlfriend did dump me, though,”

Personally, I think he told her way too much. But honestly, who could think straight with someone as pretty as her in such close proximity?

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, her hand falling away from his chin. Oh. Wait. Maybe she thought he was just lying about his girlfriend dumping him. You’re smarter than that, Heeseung.

“Forgive me,” Y/n stood up straight, pretending to adjust her hair in a moment of hesitation before turning around and taking a seat in the man’s lap.

Heeseung’s eyes widened, scrambling to look away until Y/n guided his face back to her with her hand. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep looking at me like I’m your worst nightmare, Heeseung,”

The man inhaled sharply as Y/n mumbled, looking straight at his lips. She must have been devoted to this act because Heeseung could’ve sworn he was getting butterflies. “Look, you have to get out of here. The guy behind you is dangerous. Somi found some stuff on him in the office…or something. I’m not sure, she just pointed at him. The point is, you’ve gotta leave as soon as possible. For your own safety,”

“Fine,” Heeseung agreed reluctantly, the gears turning in his head, “I’ll leave you alone. Just get up, I’ve got fragile bones,”

“Thank you,” Y/n stood up confidently, bending down a final time to whisper in the man’s ear, “and do not utter a word to any of your buddies about that so-called lap dance. I do know where you live, after all,”

Heeseung smiled as Y/n walked off, but grew worried when she paused and turned right back around. “What happened?” he asked.

“I’ll explain,” Y/n grabbed Heeseung’s hand, pulling him out of his seat, “but you’re coming with me,”

The last thing Y/n wanted was for Heeseung to get hurt. Okay, that’s overcompensating, but you get the point—he was annoying, but she didn’t want him interrogated and hurt just for talking to her tonight.

So when she noticed a waitress mention his name to the man Somi warned her about, she panicked.

“Woah, hold on,” Heeseung began, Y/n’s grip on his wrist tightening enough to cut off circulation, “don’t you think these guys are gonna get the wrong idea here?”

“As if I care,” Y/n heaved, pulling the man next to the side door. “I’m gonna find Somi, and then we’re gonna run,”

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows, mouth agape. “Run where? And why?”

“I’ll order a taxi, I don’t know. We’ll figure it out,” Y/n started, trying her best to recall her and Somi’s backup plan. “They know you spoke with me. Considering the fact that Somi and I are about to become their primary enemies and I don’t want your fragile bones cracking under the pressure, I’m taking you with me,”

“Okay…” Heeseung began, puzzled, “it’s just not very fool…proof,”

By the time Heeseung had finished his sentence, Y/n was distracted already, looking across the busy room at the several pairs of eyes focused on them.

“Y/n?”

Heeseung turned in the same direction, his eyes widening as the man in the rust bowtie he was warned about pointed right at them.

“Can you run in those?” Heeseung glanced down at Y/n’s elevated feet in worry.

“Not like I have much of a choice!” Y/n finally pushed the door open, grabbing Heeseung’s hand once again and sprinting—or, rather, trying to. She did not make it far.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, doubling over as they rounded the corner after exiting the club. “Okay, these have to go,”

It was raining harder than it had all day. Y/n was cold, in pain, and in danger. Now was not the time to be decked out in a corset and booty shorts.

“No, no,” Heeseung shook his head, his hair getting wetter by the second as he took off his jacket and tossed it to Y/n. “Wear this. You’re getting on my back,”

“Are you sure you can carry me, fragile bones?” she asked, eyeing Heeseung up and down in an insinuating manner before pulling his coat over her shoulders. To be fair, she did not know he was Nightwing. But still—damn, Y/n, now is not the time for banter.

“Just get on…” Heeseung rolled his eyes, bending his knees for Y/n to get on, “once we get back to my car, we can try to track down Somi. I’m sure she already left,”

“What do you mean?!” Y/n asked, hopping on anyways—her feet did hurt quite a bit, after all. “They’re only chasing us because they know I was with her! We have to go back right now,”

Heeseung began jogging with Y/n on his back, “just…trust me. Please. She’s fine, I’m sure,”

Y/n didn’t have any reason to trust Heeseung on a regular day. But if she went back to the strip club right now, they’d get her like a rat in a trap. She didn’t want to trust him, but there wasn’t much of a choice tonight. So she chose to cling on tight as water and wind hit her face and legs relentlessly—it was safe to assume her hair was no longer as gorgeous as it was ten minutes ago.

Heeseung’s hair looked great though—and it smelled like cinnamon. Y/n usually hated that she noticed that. It typically felt like she couldn’t think about how attractive or not that bad of a person he was in close proximity of him because he’d be able to see right through her and use it to his advantage as if they were in an ongoing war. It didn’t feel that way right now.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Just meet us at the street parallel to Skunk Avenue, Jasper Way,”

“Who are you talking to?” Y/n inquired, looking down at Heeseung before noticing a small earpiece resting in his left ear.

“A childhood friend. He’s picking us up,”

2. Reliability A woman wants someone who shows up, rain or shine. Support, shield, assist—I can’t tell you exactly which way she’ll appreciate it. Everyone is different.

previous ☆ next ☆ series masterlist ☆ masterlist

#how you get the girl 🌃#hoes4hoseok #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #kpop imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung #enhypen #enhypen reactions #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x yn

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zahri-melitor · 2 months

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So I was delighted to find that Gail Simone teamed up with John Ostrander for part of the Secret Six 2008 run (issue #15 is exactly three sort of characterisation interstitial issue Ostrander used to do on Suicide Squad 1987, AND it involved Floyd talking to Richard Craemer) and then…

Oh yeah! Skartaris story (Secret Six #25-28)

Lori I would totally suggest you should ACTUALLY steal magic from Jennifer or Ashiya except for the fact that you’ve never met any of them and you need to know magic users exist to nick their powers. Ashiya would be right up your alley. (Instead, of course, she absorbs Deimos. And not even his dress style).

Also given we are ducking in and out of Suicide Squad storylines I am once again reminded of the absolute nonsense that is the explanation of how Rick Flag survived the nuclear explosion in Qurac (no, not the one you’re thinking of; the other one at Jotunheim) and I’m still mad about it, John Ostrander. Rick was nowhere near that damn sword, I’ve been over all the panels.

Okay that aside this hmmm isn’t that bad for a Skartaris story? There’s nothing overtly factually wrong here and it’s using a bunch of real Skartaris characters reasonably canonically.

I lost it giggling at this point.

Thomas Blake, aka Catman, aka a poor expy of Batman, is dressed as Travis Morgan, aka the Warlord, aka slightly taller colour corrected Oliver Queen, aka Green Arrow aka ANOTHER poor expy of Batman.

In addition Floyd Lawton runs out of bullets. Hey Floyd I have it on good authority (from Travis) that there is always an endless supply of extra bullets in Skartaris, even if you brought in a very specific number originally, if you need them for plot reasons. Mike Grell has assured me of this on multiple occasions.

(And what do you know, Floyd finds an extra bullet right at the end, even after claiming he was all out. That’s the Skartarian magic for you)

#z canon read throughs #secret six

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the-agent-of-blight · 7 months

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Aromanticism in Academic Papers (day 2)

Each day of ASAW, i'm going to summarize and discuss a different academic paper that researches aromanticism in some capacity. Today is day 2.

Today's paper is: Ace and Aro: Understanding Differences in Romantic Attractions Among Persons Identifying as Asexual by Amy N. Antonsen, Bozena Zdaniuk, Morag Yule, and Lori A. Brotto. (2020) [stable link]

This paper's primary focus is on researching the romantic experience of asexual individuals, including the significant population of Aroace individuals. The authors found that 74% of asexual people reported experiencing romantic attraction, found differences in activities, behavior, and personalities between allo and aro asexuals. These results were found through an amalgam of data collected in 7 different studies into asexuality.

This paper, being one of the first papers to actually address aromantic people at all, has to establish some facts that seem like common sense to those of us in the community. Unsurprisingly, more alloace participants reported being in a romantic relationship than aroace participants. Alloaces were 6.7 times more likely to be in a relationship than aroaces. This is something that seems like common sense, but since aromanticism is so rarely discussed in academic literature, this is a new finding for academia. Similarly, alloaces reported more past romantic partners than those who aroace.

This paper lends academic credence to something that the asexual community has often said itself: that there are aces who want to engage in romantic activity.

I am not without complaint, however. One of this paper's claims is "Aromantic asexual participants were colder, less nurturant, and less intrusive than romantic asexual participants based on the Inventory of Interpersonal Problems." Obviously, reading that the first time, I was quite insulted. Some of those phrases carry negative connotations. Now, of course, the paper does acknowledge this, recognizing that two of the questions used to find this result (From the Inventory of Interpersonal Problems) mentioned feelings that are often associated with romantic love, which means data may have been biased by poorly worded questions. Another criticism I have with this paper is its focus on aromanticism as only a modifier to asexuality, but i do concede that it was significantly easier to study via meta-analysis. One thing to consider about the history of aromantic people being studied in academic literature is that most mentions are extremely new, and that the origins of that comes primarily from research around asexuality that got its start in 2008. Ultimately, this paper is still foundational to a lot of more aromantic specific research later on in the body of literature and therefore holds a special place.

[link to day 3]

#Day 2!#again give me feedback if you want some #i know its supposed to be all about aromanticism this week and all but #its nigh impossible to get a paper thats just about aromanticism. in my research there have been very few that are completely divorced #from asexuality research #aro #aromantic #aromanticism #asaw 2024

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firebloodanddragons · 2 years

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Of Dragons and Lambs - Chapter 1 (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: As the realm is about to celebrate the 129th anniversary of Aegon's conquest, a royal raven sent by Prince Aegon himself summons you to court. Afraid something might have happened to your husband, you hastily leaves for the capital. But your arrival is most impromptu. King Viserys is dead and the Greens are plotting Aegon's coronation and soon you are involved in political affairs that go beyond imagination. Wife, Lady-in-waiting, Whore, Confident, Lover ... What are you supposed to be now?

Tags: Romance / Secret Relationship/ Angst / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore/ Sex / Targaryen Incest / Explicit Sexual Content/ Infidelity /Explicit Language

Author's notes: After watching House of the Dragon and reading (and annotating) Fire and Blood, here's my Aemond Targaryen x Reader fan fiction. I tried to create a story that respects both what's told in the book and what is shown in HotD and I truly hope my portrayal of GRR Martin's characters is faithful. English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise if there is any grammatical mistake. I hope you will enjoy reading. Chapter 1 mainly is an introduction to the story. The relationship between Aemond and Reader will be explored more deeply in Chapter 2.

(also available on AO3)

CHAPTER 1: ĀBRAR DOHAERIS

A loud bang to the door to your chambers woke you with a start. Startled, you noticed the room was in a dimming light and that the soft and pale rays of the sunrise were barely seeping in the space between the velvet curtains the servants had drawn last night. It was early, very early, too early to be woken up. Something must have happened. You sat down and adjusted your night gown hastily before allowing whomever had knocked to come in. Soon your most faithful handmaid, Brunwina, opened the door but she did not dare approach. But even in the distance you noticed her trembling hands. “My lady, I am so sorry to wake you this early but a raven arrived from King’s Landing.” “Is it about my husband?” You were quick to ask. Your lord-husband, Lorys Rosby, had left the castle to go to King’s Landing a few days ago after being summoned by the King’s Hand, Otto Hightower, in preparation of the 127th anniversary of Aegon’s conquest. The event, which was a week of great feasts, dances and tourneys, gathered each year all the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms and for many decades it had been House Stokeworth’s duty to make the royal family’s festive clothes for your seat was famous for its formidable craftsmen, weavers and dressmakers. The tradition was not to your husband’s taste however and he had made it very clear. “My father used to make me bring food to those incestuous pale cunts and now my wife forces me to dress them.” And this is why what your servant said afterward made your heart skip a beat. “The message carries the royal seal, my lady.” Seven hells Lorys, what have you done? You thought before reaching for the letter. As it turned out, he hadn’t done anything (or at least nothing was mentioned in the letter) but the words signed by Prince Aegon Targaryen himself commanded you to come to King’s Landing immediately. “The King requests your presence before the big celebration that is to come.” And so, you left your father’s castle in a haste along with your handmaiden and your septa and a small chest full of clothes. You arrived to King’s Landing when the sun reached its highest point in the sky. But the man who received you was not King Viserys Targaryen. “King Viserys is dead. And your arrival here is most impromptu.” Otto Hightower said solemnly before locking you up in an underground cell with other ladies of your status. And soon you would realise that the celebration that was to come would to be the anniversary of Aegon’s conquest and that future dance everyone in the kingdom expected would not be a dance of cheerful lords and ladies. It would be a dance of dragons.

Black did not really suit Prince Aegon’s pale skin or silver hair. The colour made him look sickly and ghost-like, enhancing his dark circles and the hangover still tinting his face in shades of yellowish green. But to Queen Alicent’s proud eyes, his first born looked most magnificent. Only her daughter and her second son, Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond, whose presence had been solicited by the dowager queen, seemed to notice that their brother didn’t look credible in the fine royal attire that had been made for him. However, only the latter allowed his opinion to show through the disapproving frown on his young face and one could easily read young Prince Aemond’s clear thoughts. Had this attire been his to wear, he wouldn’t have looked like a boy playing dress-up. “You stupid boy!” Otto Hightower growled as he stormed in his grandson’s apartment. Scared by the noise, Helaena jumped on her seat while Alicent shielded her first born with her slim body. Only Aemond remained composed and imperturbable although a malicious smirk began to appear on his face. “What has he done again?” Queen Alicent asked. “Even on a day as important as this one, you had to think with your cock, didn’t you?” “It seems you like my cock only when it suits your interests, grandfather.” Aegon retorted with a confidence only his mother’s protection could provide. “What is going on?” “Your son summoned Lady Y/N Stokeworth to court.” “Why would you do that? You know no one is to leave or to enter the Red Keep until your coronation.” Alicent explained with a tone that wasn’t as harsh as her father’s but certainly as angry. “Who’s Lady Y/N?” Aegon asked, clueless and his brother snickered wholeheartedly, drawing the attention of his family on himself. “I would have never thought you were foolish or lustful enough to do it, brother. But once again it seemed ale got the better of you.” Aemond mocked, choosing his words wisely. He knew where was the line he could not cross. “What do you know, Aemond?” Otto demanded, his impatience burning in his blue eyes but the one-eyed prince did not care and he kept smirking a little longer, enjoying the family drama. “Perhaps my sister should leave first.” Alicent agreed and asked a handmaiden to escort Helaena back to her own chambers. She knew that whatever Aegon had done, it was not in his sister-wife’s best interest. Quite the opposite actually. “When Aegon staggered back to the Red Keep in the early hours after another escapade to Flea Bottom few nights ago in the company of Lord Lorys Rosby, I heard them mention Lady Y/N’s … carnal talents. Lord Rosby bragged so much about it, Aegon replied something like ‘Careful I might be tempted to use her little cunt’. I guess my brother didn’t resist temptation very long.” Aegon’s purple eyes widened as the flashes of the depraved night Aemond mentioned came back to him. “You thought you could make a noble married woman your whore? Have you lost your mind?!” Alicent shouted. “I was drunk. I barely remember sending the fucking raven.” The future king said in his defence. “Well, you sent the fucking raven and now here she is. ” Otto Hightower growled. “So?” “So?” The Hand repeated, exasperated by his grandson’s naivety. “We’re holding in a cell not only the Lord of Rosby but the heiress to House Stokeworth, both seats that are close to the Velaryons for they have been trading for generations and thus close to your half-sister. What do you think is going to be their reaction when they learn of their imprisonment?” “I think we can use their imprisonment as pressure, force them to join our ranks. I’ve heard that’s what you started doing. After all, we’ve all seen the hanged bodies in the yard.” “Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys will never join our alliance with if we keep their trading companion in our cells. They will see it a form of aggression. But you didn’t think about that, did you?” Aemond said with a discomforting stoicism. Otto and Alicent looked at him, sitting tall and proud on his chair by the fireplace and for a second they both wished Aemond had been the first-born son for he was smarter and more calculating than his brother despite his hot-temper. Aegon noticed his grandfather and mother’s thoughtful stare and so he sticked out his chest and spoke confidently. “Make the lady Helaena’s lady-in-waiting.” All eyes turned to Aegon. “My sister is to be Queen. She deserves new ladies-in-waiting, proper ones. With Lady Y/N permanently in court, Lord Lorys will have to serve us to guarantee her safety. The Velaryon will not be able to call them prisoners. In fact, the will most likely believe we treat his them generously and thust they will perhaps consider our alliance treaty with an open ear.” The plan was judicious and smarter than what the Hightowers would have expected from Aegon. But the idea did not please Aemond who wished secretly his brother had not thought of it. “What about the marriage pact you mentioned, father?” Alicent asked and Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Do we abandon the idea?” “We certainly do not. We need to play all our pawns. We need all the allies we can have. House Baratheon must give us their support. We cannot allow them to join Princess Rhaenyra’s cause.” Otto declared. “Aemond! Lord Borros is a proud and ambitious man. Go to Storm’s End right after the coronation feast, flatter that crabby illiterate’s ego and offer to marry one of his daughters. Any of the four will do. Woo her and wed her and Lord Borros will deliver the Stormlands for your brother. Fail—" “I will not fail.” Aemond blustered. “Aegon will have Storm’s End and I will have this girl.”

The room was awfully quiet. No word, no whisper could be heard and you could feel the crushing weight of that ominous silence on your small shoulders pressuring you to fall on your knees. You knew you had just fallen into a viper’s nest. And even though the reptiles around you were silent you could sense their six vicious eyes staring. Green, brown and blue. All judging, envying or commanding. What petrifying eyes. They had turned you into stone the second you had stepped foot in Princess Helaena’s chambers and they had managed to snuff out the little self-confidence you believed you owned. But they had not taken your strength away. “There is no need to be shy, Lady Y/N. Surely my husband must have heard of your talents. Otherwise, he would not have made you my new lady-in-waiting.” Princess Helaena’s voice was the softest you had ever heard. It sounded genuinely sweet and yet from another world as if her happiness only existed in a land of dreams she didn’t know she was locked in. But she remained a dragon and there was nothing more dangerous than a dragon. You, the little lamb from Castle Stokeworth, knew that better than anyone. And thus, you would not be fooled by a kindness that was probably just some kind of trap to make you drop your guard. You were not safe here, as any sheep among vipers and dragons would be. “I have no talent, your grace.” You said as you gathered all your strength to keep your voice and yourself steady. “A lady with no talent? I do not believe it. Surely you know one thing or two. Perhaps poetry.” You had been raised in a noble house, the only daughter and last remaining heir of a wealthy family of the Crownlands who always saw you as nothing but the only marriage material they owned. The lamb with a golden wool, they called you. So of course, you were a very literate woman. You had to be. In fact, you could remember all the rainy afternoon spent in the castle’s library with your Septa reading historical books, legends and poetry. However, you could not call yourself a poet. “I can read, your grace. But I am no poet.” “Painting then.” You shook your head. “No, your grace.” “Sewing? Embroidery? I heard the finest weavers of Westeros can be found in your seat.” The royal woman said as she touched the beige dress you were wearing, not caring about the dirt your day in the donjons had left on the silk. “It’s true, your grace. But I am afraid my skills do not match Stokeworth’s reputation.” “You’re too modest, my lady. What about music? I love music.” She sounded childishly enthusiastic. “I am sure you were taught to play an instrument or to sing at the very least.” You swallowed the little bit of saliva that was left in your dried mouth and looked at the vipers sitting around you: the ladies Lannister, Wilde and Fossoway whose snakelike stares hadn’t left your figure since your arrival. Surely, they would soon let you hear their whistling mockeries. “I don’t think I can sing, your grace. I stopped when my mother died and…” The rest of the sentence didn’t find its way out your mouth as the sadness brought back by the thoughts of your dead mother knotted your throat. But Princess Helaena did not notice your grief and with a bright smile she asked you to sing for her. Your eyes widened in apprehension, begging her to reconsider her request. Alas, she did not and the vipers started smirking. The insisting purple stare of the Targaryen princess made you open your mouth and the fear to see your husband beheaded because of your pathetic mutism forced you to let out a few notes. They sounded terrible, sometimes like a blade scraping a metal shield, sometimes like a new born choking on his cries. But most of all, they sounded awfully miserable, showing the concealed misery that your eyes refused to let out. Although no one had made it clear, you had an idea on why you were here. It wasn’t to keep the Princess company. It wasn’t to entertain her with your nonexistent talents. No, if there was a person you were here to entertain, it probably was Aegon, the man who had requested your presence in the Red Keep. And you knew exactly how the young man liked to be entertained. You had heard the rumours. “What a lovely nightingale.” Helaena clapped her hands and her sincerity caught you unaware. Should you thank her or simply look down and pay attention to the mocking giggles of the ladies around you? “The princess complimented you, silly girl. What are you waiting for? Thank her grace. Who taught you manners?” Lady Lannister snarled. “Yes, of course. Thank you, your highness. You are very kind.” You mumbled as you clenched your fists and the women all laughed at your clumsiness, including the late King Viserys’s daughter but only because she found laughing contagious. But their scornful laughter ceased once a loud and stately voice resonated in the chambers like a cold and whistling gale rushing into a cave. It made everyone except Queen Heleana shake like leaves. “Our brother obviously did not ask her to sing before he requested her presence in court. But then again, I am certain he does not give a shit about her voice.” Those truthful words hurt but you kept your head up while the eyes of the three vipers and the Queen landed upon the slender and majestic figure of Prince Aemond Targaryen. The ladies-in-waiting looked both scared and uncomfortable and their eyes quickly found a certain interest in the embroideries of their noble dresses. And once you dare glance at him you understood why.

There was something truly intimidating and rather terrifying about him, something almost menacing, and it wasn’t the large scar on his face or the leather eyepatch. No, the fear that the young prince inspired came from something else. Whether it was the cold demeanour that kept his head high and his chiselled jawline permanently clenched or the resentful and unpredictable fire burning in his eye, you did not know. All you knew was that the second son of the late King Viserys oozed not only danger but fire and blood. A true Targaryen. A true dragon. “I am so glad to see you, brother. Are you here to keep me company? I am afraid I have to prepare for this afternoon celebration” “I just wanted to have a look at the new lady-in-waiting and see what was so special about her to make our wastrel of a brother act once more like a horny fool.” The way Prince Aemond insulted his brother didn’t seem to shock anyone but you. But your astonishment vanished as soon as the one-eyed man approached you and slowly started circling you to scrutinize you from head to toe. He acted almost like a predator walking around a prey except that his eye held no hunger, just curiosity and judgment. A voice in your head begged you to look down but the little courage you had managed to keep since your meeting with Otto Hightower helped you stand strong and when your eyes finally caught Prince Aemond’s purple iris you stared back at him, supporting his look, your strength tinted with a sudden weird fascination. As you looked at his young scarred face, you wondered what happened to his left eye and what could be hiding under the eyepatch. You had heard rumours. Some said the prince’s eye had been taken by a dragon. Some said he had lost it in a battle against his kin while a few whispered the Prince had been cursed by a witch and was since hiding an eye similar to a dragon’s eye under the piece of leather. You did not know which one to believe, finding them all ludicrous or implausible. You probably stared for too long because Aemond ultimately frowned in irritation and let out a brief yet annoyed “Mmh” that should have made you look down if not for your sake for your husband’s. “Unsurprisingly, her reputation precedes her.” Prince Aemond said, without looking away. “She is just a lamb with a golden wool … and a pretty face.” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his words. You never thought your nickname had reached King’s Landing let alone royal ears. “Don’t make her sing ever again, dear sister.” And with these words he stormed out of the room as swift and determined as he had entered it. “And ask your handmaidens to bring her to the throne room. Our brother requests her presence.” And when the door shut, you took a deep breath and realized you had been breathless all this time. What an intriguing man.

The Iron Throne. Thousands blades taken from those who once dared face Aegon the Conqueror. Thousands blades forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Dread. Thousands blades before which a young man who’s barely the shadow of his namesake was standing, his silver head waiting for a crown that should never be his. “I do not like sending a drinking friend in a cell but when the drinking friend in question is sworn to my enemy, I must not treat him like a friend any longer. As you most certainly understood, Lord Rosby, my father King Viserys is dead. But before his death he named me is successor. This throne is mine.” Aegon’s young voice echoed in the room but the man standing before him stood his ground and even dared snicker in silence, unimpressed by the prince’s attempt at being fearsome. Lord Lorys Rosby was seven-and-twenty. Tall and strong with dark brown hair and eyes as black as charcoal, he was the elder nephew and only male heir of the late Lord Jon Rosby who had bequeathed him the regency of his house a few years ago. Ambitious, the young lord had wed you a fortnight ago in order to unite his house to the Stokeworth’s and hopefully see his seat grow if your father came to die with no male heir. “Your father once swore to my half-sister, Princess Rhaenyra. But you still can do the right thing and pledge your allegiance to the one and only House Targaryen, to the one true monarch.” His words were not truly his but the Hightower’s. One could easily guess their venom in each syllable. “I know where my allegiance lies. I only know one monarch, the one your father, King Viserys the Peaceful, chose.” Lorys solemnly declared and the young King-to-be Aegon smiled proudly. “The one my house and my fiancé’s father swore to serve.” But the smirk quickly faded.“Queen Rhaenyra, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Protector of the Realm.” The silver-haired prince’s purple eyes widened. He was offended but most of discountenanced. “I had hoped the darkness of a cell would have changed your mind.” “House Rosby is headstrong. When there’s a storm, we face it bravely despite the ominous risks. We do not run from it. We’re no cowards who switch loyalty to find a shelter.” “You’re going to wish you were one.” Otto Hightower threatened, eager to take things in charge. “Sir Criston!”

The doors to the throne room swung open and Sir Criston in his knight armour entered on the Hand’s order, dragging you in. His gloved hand firmly tightened around your arm, he made you stand a couple of steps away from your husband who looked horrified to see you here. “You did not lie, Lord Rosby. What you told your future king is true. Your new wife is a lovely flower and she is definitely more gorgeous that the previous one, richer as well. Surely, she is very precious to you. Wouldn’t it be disastrous if something were to happen to her?” “Don’t you dare touch her!” “Aegon is to be crowned king tod—" “If I want to touch her, I will.” Aegon declared, not caring about his grandfather’s monologue. “What is yours is mine for you are my subjects. Lady Y/N has been my wife’s lady-in-waiting. She will remain in the Red Keep as long as it pleases me. Whether her stay is comfortable or not depends on you and your obedience. Swear me fealty and no harm will be done to her. You will go back to Rosby a free man and I will make sure your son and daughter from your marriage to Lady Lyra Darklyn will have a place at the court and that you receive the payment House Darklyn denied you when your previous wife died. Refuse to acknowledge me as King, not only you will rot in a cell, landless and stripped of all your titles, but I will personally make sure that all the children born from your wife are my bastards.” The proposition as well as the threat made you feel dizzy and you were sure that if not for Sir Criston’s hand still holding you up you would have fallen to the ground. You looked at your husband, begging him to consider everything involved in this bargain, the gifts as much as the traps. You wanted him to ask Prince Aegon to wait a few days for his answer. You wanted your husband to talk to you, to make a decision with. You did not want to see you as a traded good just like your father before him. But what you wanted did not matter. “Valar Dohaeris.” Ābrar dohaeris, you mean.

[CHAPTER 2]

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