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itsgrimeytime · 9 months ago

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I Told You Now (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Part 1

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: I've Told You Now by Sam Smith or "But what the hell, why do you think I come 'round here on my free will? Wasting all my precious time... Oh, the truth spills out and oh I...I've told you now."

Summary: You were in love with Rick, not that he knew. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell him. What could you say, you loved the kids and didn't want to lose them too. It was too risky. But finding out he was chasing after some married woman was just the last straw.

TWs: avoidance, a little bit of crying, not really unrequited love, and a teeny-tiny bit of angst (with a happy ending).

[[A/N: The song hits, totally worth this little two-parter. A happy ending!!! Finally. Enjoy :)) ]]

You were avoiding him, as long as you physically could.

Which was apparently a long time. A month, maybe. You weren't keeping count.

You aren't sure how it spread, but suddenly, everyone was a buffer. Maggie had started it, offering to take Judith to you from Rick, and it had just spiraled. He couldn't get a foot in front of your house, someone was always in the way -even Daryl had leaned up against your porch once, shaking his head. Rick had been particularly disheartened that time.

You saw him throughout Alexandria, sometimes watching him out of your window -even as he tried to come talk to you.

Since then, he seemed to be rougher around the edges. Blue eyes heavy with hair messy and hardly wearing his uniform anymore. Sometimes, if you paid enough attention, you could see the bags under his eyes get heavier. You wondered if he had been sleeping, and had asked Maggie. She didn't know, but the two of you could gather the truth.

Never with Jessie. You'd never seen him with Jessie. Not since that day, you weren't sure exactly why.

Was he afraid that it'd hurt your feelings? He'd already done that, why be afraid to now?

You weren't even sure what he wanted to say to you. Sorry? That was too much work just to apologize. He'd been trying since about a week after your confession, every day since then. Had he truly just wanted to apologize?

If not that, then what?

You really had no idea.

"Are you ready?" Maggie asked, poking her head through your front door.

You pursed your lips, straightening your shirt in the mirror ever-so-slightly, "Why is she doing this again?"

She being Deanna. She'd been trying to throw dinners where the whole community came for... togetherness, or something. This had been the first time everyone agreed to it. The divide was exhausting, and everyone wanted to try something new.

You weren't exactly pumped, to say the least.

Rick was going to be there, and while you had been adjusting to his absence, you weren't handling it well. You still loved him as much as you did a month ago, it hadn't stopped. You thought it would've stopped by now-

Then again, something lasting years wasn't just going to vanish in a month, was it?

"You know why," Maggie replied, watching you shift a few things about your appearance, "-she's been drillin' it into our heads for months."

That she had.

"Yeah, yeah," you agreed, making your way to her side, "-let's just get this over with."

That led you to here, as you sipped on a drink and leaned against a wall. It was a little like you were in college and had come to a party without any of your friends. Except you were surrounded by friends.

Carol had even come up to you a few minutes ago, holding your shoulders and looking at you the way she always did now (something a little like pity), "You alright?"

You had shooed her away, telling her to enjoy the dinner, that you were fine-

And you were. Kinda.

You kept feeling his eyes on you, just watching you -maybe waiting for you to make a move. Or maybe he was just looking to look. Maybe, your mind treacherously thought, he missed you.

You swallowed the rest of your drink at that thought. Silencing your mind, that's enough.

Placing your glass on the table just to your left, you peered along the crowd. Everyone was mingling, groups pinched off and chattering. You weren't sure what about, maybe just their experiences within the apocalypse? It was surely depressing though, so-

Maggie had initially told you to stick by her side, but she and Glenn were too much; cute, really, but not helpful to your situation. You had the spare thought to join Daryl, he was in his own little corner, but you thought it best to leave him be. Everybody needed their alone time, especially him.

So, with that thought, you left your glass on the table and decided to head home. You debated telling Maggie that you were, but the crowd that separated the two of you was not worth it. You thought you saw Deanna in the mix somewhere, and you really did not want to deal with her right now.

You slipped out of the door in silence.

You hadn't really thought that he would see you duck out, that he might be inclined to follow you. You should have.

The night was chilly, sunsetting, eerily quiet, and you suddenly had the thought you were the first to leave. You wouldn't be surprised, to be fair; you were there for about an hour after the actual dinner. Socializing was the main point of it all, why would anyone leave early?

Whatever, there was always the next one.

You slowly made your way down the stairs, feet padding along the wood and then down onto the road; you weren't in a rush. In fact, the street was kind of peaceful when silent, and the sunset really was beautiful. Made you feel a little like you weren't in the apocalypse, despite the low groans you could hear outside the fence. You stopped for a second to see it, the pinks and oranges dusting along the sky.

Then, there was a creak like the wood of a porch step under someone's feet.

You let out a heavy breath, of course.

You weren't scared then, somehow. It made your chest hurt, yeah, but you'd expected it eventually. You couldn't avoid him forever.

"Hey, Rick," you spoke into the chilly air, not moving or turning to face him.

It seemed to startle him -you heard the footsteps stop in their place for a moment. You crossed your legs then, sitting on the street -watching the sunset with a renewed focus.

You knew your clothes were getting dirty, but somehow, you had laundry. And you were kind of used to dirty clothes, it made you feel a little less alien here. It had been a while since you got here, but you still felt... odd. Out of place.

Now, though, as you sat and watched the sky, you felt at home. Human.

You heard his footsteps start up again -his slow gait ringing familiar in your head, all the way up until he was right beside you. Wordlessly, he sat down.

His woodsy smell was the first thing you noted, seeping into your nose -there was something in you that felt like you could never forget it. And then you just felt his presence, he sat close enough that you could feel his body heat -your elbows would bump if your hands weren't sat in your lap. Finally, you felt his eyes bore into your side -flicking back and forth from you to the sky.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Rick seemed to think about it for a second, and you felt like his eyes were still on you, "Yeah, it is."

"Makes me feel human again," you responded, honestly, "-I used to wait to watch the sunrise some nights. Makes me feel like I'm there again."

His eyes moved to the sky then, and out of the corner of your eye, you looked at him. He was wearing a white button-up, the first few undone and his hair wasn't as messy. You mindlessly wondered if he'd made an effort for the dinner, or maybe he'd just... gotten over it all.

A string of your heart snapped at the thought, stinging your chest.

"When I was a kid," he suddenly started, words low and mumbly (but maybe it was just the accent), "-used to go out on my roof when I couldn't sleep, watch the sunrise. Momma 'ated me for it."

You laughed a little, and almost immediately his eyes were back on you -scattering along the side of your face. It felt like your heart was in your throat, and if you hadn't confessed already, you felt like you might've done it then.

"What do you want to say?" you asked, heavy, and curious. It felt right to say it.

"What?" he questioned, "-To you?"

"Yeah," you inhaled a breath, turning to him -you'd forgotten what it had felt like to hold his eye contact, "-you keep coming back. That... That can't be as simple as an apology."

Rick hummed, seemingly taking you in a moment.

"Unless," you recanted -a little overwhelmed at the attention, "-it was. I guess I don't know."

He took your words in stride, eyes glazing back over onto the sky. Yours followed them, tracing over the wispy clouds -the colors were fading to darkness, and it wouldn't be long until it was over.

"'S been a shitty month," he finally said.

You laughed a little, and you could see his lips quirked up out of the corner of your eye. You had missed him, a lot. Why couldn't you be friends again?

"God, Rick, I'm in fucking love with you!"

Right. Your heart twisted in your chest -you mindlessly put a hand over it like you were protecting it somehow. You felt Rick's eyes follow the motion.

"Ya mind if we talk inside? 'Think we got some company."

Your eyes trailed back to the house, Deanna's, and sure enough, Daryl sat outside -leaning against the wall. Maggie was looking out the window, unabashedly; you had the thought that she had sent Daryl to check it out.

Daryl looked at you then, offering.

You shook your head, mouthing silently, 'I'm okay'.

He didn't wait a moment, turning back into the house -nursing a drink close to his chest. Rick watched the movement just as you did, Maggie's green eyes still blinking at you -intently, a little like she was trying to read you.

You turned back to the sky, Daryl would tell her.

"Yeah," you answered, finally -taking a long, deep breath, "-we can do that."

You'd decided your house, it was closer than his and he seemed to want you to be comfortable. You weren't sure you could be around him, not now, but the thought was nice. As soon as you slipped into the door, you pulled your shoes off -placing them by the door.

"Shoes off," you insisted.

Rick mindlessly followed the instruction, laughing a little as he slipped off his boots, "'S a little bossy, ain't it?"

You rolled your eyes, a smile biting at your lips, "You mop my floor and then we'll talk, Grimes."

Leisurely walking through your house, you made your way to the living room -a bit routinely. You'd liked having a house, but it was kind of empty. Lonely. All the houses had two floors, extra bedrooms, and it was just... you. The Grimes's household felt much nicer, rooms filled and smiling faces.

You liked being there. You missed it.

Without hesitating, you threw yourself onto the couch -landing in your typical spot. None of the other seats were really used, it made something in your chest twist.

Rick followed, sitting beside you, but leaving enough room for you to turn sideways -leaning against the arm. The pillow was even in the right spot, you guessed he could tell it was your favorite spot. Anyone could really.

Even still, he was smiling at you (practically lying down) in a way you'd never seen before. Something new. Your curiosity bit your tongue, but you refused to ask; he had enough to say, you figured a look, a smile, didn't matter.

"Ya comfortable?" He chuckled -a little teasingly.

"This is my own home," you replied -playfully, "-I'll sit however I want, Grimes."

He threw his hands up into a mock surrender, pushing himself to lay the same way -he sat up enough to still look at you.

It kinda warmed your heart to see someone else, Rick especially, on the other side of the couch. He mirrored your own stance, and something in you believed that to be special, very special.

He was still smiling at you in that same way, it made you almost furrow your eyebrows. You couldn't read it, and that was something you really weren't used to. You could usually tell by the twitch of his nose if he was upset, you'd just... known him. But this, you'd never seen this before.

You opened your mouth to ask, but Rick beat you to it.

"'S really comfortable," he mumbled, "-I'll give it to ya."

"Thank you," you cheered with a smile of your own.

You could almost imagine that it was before, and your confession hadn't happened. Just you and Rick. This moment would have been a quiet one, maybe after Judith went down for a nap. That was usually when you and Rick spent the most time together, tiny little moments in his home. But, it wasn't one of those and you knew that.

You were looking up at the ceiling -eyes smoothing across the blank space, distracting yourself, "Rick?"

He hummed in response.

"Why are you here?"

There was a silence then, and you felt him shift. You peeked over at him and saw him fully sat up -facing you, and closer than before. Something in you said to follow the movement so you did. You were sure if you hadn't, he would've asked you to.

Something about this was very serious. Or at least he thought so.

He sighed, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with them. You'd seen the habit a few times, rarely though, and you wondered why exactly he was doing it now.

"'S been a really shitty month," he repeated, a little with a laugh -something in you said it wasn't a joke.

You paused, debating your words -looking at him, and deciding on a little whisper, "Yeah, I know."

He looked up at that, blue eyes matching yours. A little like he hadn't expected it. Like maybe he thought you were doing well, healing. He couldn't have been more wrong, and something in you wanted to tell him that. That you had missed him like a limb, that you still loved him so much, that you were probably never going to get over him. No matter how hard you tried.

Your lips stayed sealed shut.

"'Ve had a lotta time to think," he murmured, eyes back onto his hands, "-ever since your... ever since ya told me."

Your eyes remained on him, patiently. Something in you itched to stop his fidgeting -pull his hands apart (maybe intertwine them), you resisted it.

"It... It started wit' an apology," he explained, now looking at you -eyes scanning along your face, "-it really did. I felt like shit for doin' 'at to you. An' I still do. I just..."

Your eyes darted between his -his eyes intense and focused like he wanted you to listen. So, you did.

"I thought I could talk to ya, when I dropped off Judith, tell ya then-" he ran a hand through his hair, "-but Maggie came to get 'er. And I thought maybe ya just needed a lil' time."

You nearly apologized because of the look in his eyes -the desperation. How long had he felt like that? Guilt twisted in your stomach.

"I gave ya a week," he continued, "-'Thought I could try now, maybe you'd wanna listen. But then..."

He looked at you.

"Well, ya already know."

You did. It spilled out before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry," you blurted, "-about all of them. I never... They just started doing it, and I... I didn't stop them-"

Your words fell short, as his hand went to hold yours -a small little embrace of comfort.

"Ya don't 'ave to do 'at," he breathed, something settling in his eyes (they kept darting to your held hands), "-you were hurtin'. I get it, really."

He seemed a little guilty, maybe about your feelings. He didn't have to be, it wasn't his fault. You were in love with him, how could he control that? You almost told him that, but he started talking again before you could.

"The longer I went without ya," he swallowed, eyes hesitant on yours, "-the more... the more I was thinkin'. Feelin'."

You wanted to soothe him, guilt creeping up your skin but it wasn't the time.

"I was tryna to understand it. Maybe, see where I had somehow missed that you... See the signs, I guess. Instead, I-" he bit his lip, "-I started just missin' ya."

His eyes were dusted with tears now, and your heart felt heavy in your chest. You still loved him, and you didn't want him to cry-

"I didn't kno' the extent, until," he looked down, wiping at his eyes, "-until time kept passin' by. I kept not seein' ya, and it just kept gettin' worse-"

You squeezed his hand once, solidly. He seemed to falter at that, like he'd forgotten; his thumb thoughtfully rubbed against your skin.

"You gotta believe me when I say-" he looked at you -straight in the eyes, "-it felt like a piece of me was gone. I felt like... like somethin' in me was missin'."

Your eyes were starting to get blurry.

"I didn't realize how much I was... used to ya," he swallowed, sniffling, "-and it just felt like this big, empty space. I kept lookin' at the couch, where you sat, and it just... it wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be empty."

"Rick," you whispered out -he didn't listen.

"And the more I thought about it, the more I..." he let out a breath, tears rolling down his cheeks, "-the more I realized I wanted ya there."

You pressed your lips together, trying not to cry, but you could feel the spill of tears from your eyes. Slow little trickle down your cheek.

"Y/N, I-" he started, a little desperately, "-I realized somethin' in 'at month."

You almost asked what, but he cut you off.

"I love you," he echoed out -a little like he didn't expect a response, "-I can't... I can't tell ya when it started or why I didn't realize it, but I-"

You felt a sob rack through your throat, something new lighting up your chest -you knew what that look was now. God, you knew what that look was now.

"-When I was sittin' there, by myself. I just kept thinkin' 'bout you. When I met ya, when you met Carl, when you met Judith, seein' you with 'em, you in my house like ya belonged there, you do is the thing, you do."

"Rick," it bubbled up your throat, as you tried to wipe at your eyes.

Instead, he used his free hand, thumb rubbing back and forth -holding your face like you were something so precious. Were you? Precious to him?

He was looking at you that way again, "I'm just a fuckin' dumbass, and didn't realize it then."

You laughed a little then, it was a little weepy but Rick didn't seem to mind. He smiled big and bright at the noise like it was all he ever wanted to hear.

He paused for a moment, before getting more serious, "I kno' it's been a month, an' you've been tryin' to get over me. But I..."

You watched him for a moment, waiting.

"I hope you 'aven't," he finished, "-I really hope ya 'aven't because now 'at I've realized it. There's nothing more I want in my life-"

You couldn't help it then, moving your hands to cup his face -slight stubble making your palms tingle, "I haven't, I haven't. I tried, but it just... It wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried-"

He didn't let you finish your thought, practically leaping forward to connect his lips to yours. You were stunned for a second, before pushing forward -pressing your fingertips into his skin. It was a little salty, and a little desperate, but it was right. Everything felt right.

Something in your chest mended, healed, right then and there. As he kissed you like he needed it, like he'd been waiting forever, you felt a piece of yourself slot back into place.

You pulled back, taking a deep breath through your lungs (that kinda sounded a little like a sob), and smiling. You felt like you'd never smiled as big as you had then.

"I love you too," you expressed, fingertips still holding him, cradling him.

Rick only grinned brighter, letting out a sigh of relief -you felt your heart quicken in your chest, "Thank god."

You laughed fully then, eyes not leaving his -a twinkle shined in his, something new, something happy. You wanted to learn them all now, know him totally and completely.

You kissed a few more times before Rick seemed to be happy with it -quick presses of the lips. It made you giggle, and that would make him kiss you again. It felt neverending but you didn't mind.

He pulled back though, your hands falling from his face -instead, he placed his palm against your cheek, and you leaned into it. Smiling, he just looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And you thought for a spare moment maybe you were.

Pretty quickly, you settled into his side -arm coming to wrap around you. His fingertips danced along your upper arm, as you nestled your head into his shoulder -as close as possible. You had a hand laid on his chest, and you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat under his skin; it made your head a little woozy.

"Wanna know somethin'?" He hummed, and you could feel the timber in his chest.

"Hmm?" You responded, eyes heavy from just being near him, being so warm.

"Carl said he was gonna kick my ass if I didn't tell ya soon," he revealed -a telling smile in his tone.

You laughed, a little in disbelief, "Really?"

"Yeah," he ran his fingers leisurely along your back, "-kid knew before I did. 'Just think, Dad.' And everyday 'at went by he kept lookin' at me like a disappointed momma. I could actually see a lil' of her in 'im-"

You laughed even louder, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt (not enough to get them undone).

"Threatened to tell ya 'imself if I didn't," he mumbled out, a little low in tone like he didn't want to break the feeling of this moment.

"Oh," you yawned, "-I believe him. You raised one hell of a kid, Grimes."

You could feel him look down at you, so you looked up at him -a breath away. You had the initial urge to kiss him, but you'd gotten enough of that, already.

He looked at you so fondly, with a tiny smile on his lips, "Ya tired, sweetheart?"

Something in you fluttered at the name, but you expected plenty more to come. You supposed you'd get used to it.

"How could you tell?" you quipped -wiping at your eyes.

He slid a hand down the side of your face -smoothing along your skin carefully as if you were delicate. Maybe a little like a flower, and he was marveling at the beauty.

"You wanna sleep at mine?"

You blinked, slowly -a bit in shock, "Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled, something soft in his tone, "-I'd actually prefer it, so... Don't make me beg ya."

"I don't know," you teased, "-That's pretty tempting."

He didn't say anything back for a moment. Eyes languidly smoothing over your face, like he was thinking. Like he had something else to say, or maybe he was coming up with one.

It came out in a gust of words.

"What if ya just stayed?"

"Where?" you asked, tilting your head slightly to look at him better.

"Wit' me," he answered, a little casually, "-wit' the kids. In the house."

You laughed, a little in shock, "Rick... be serious."

"I am," he confirmed, his hand suddenly stopping on your back, "-I want ya there. You belong there. And I think, if ya don't-"

You waited.

"-I might 'ave to beg."

You laughed again, playfully tapping your chin, "That might be a sight to see, Grimes."

"You gonna make me beg?" he asked with a quirk of a smile, moving suddenly, "-'Cause I'll do it-"

"Rick-" you laughed again, watching him helplessly, as he made his way to the ground.

Before you could blink, he was on his knees infront of you -hands clasped together and his elbows resting on your knees.

"Rick, you don't have to-"

"Please, move in wit' me," he interrupted, eyes set solidly on yours -he was very much serious, "-I ain't gonna waste any more time, I want ya wit' me."

"You really don't have to beg," you grinned.

"Well, I am," he chuckled a little, "-so what are you sayin'?"

"Rick," you looked at him, solidly settling your eyes on his, "-it's not even a question. But yes, I'll move in with you."

He grinned brighter then, eyes sparkling in that special way you'd gotten used to by now.

"Good," he finally said, "-'cause I was gonna drag ya outta the house myself, if ya sa-"

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, and there was a little glint in his eye -mischievous.

And if he carried you through the streets of Alexandria in the middle of the night -both laughing like you couldn't stop... that was between the two of you.

Well, and Daryl who stood out on his porch -watching the two of you scamper into the night.

"Fuckin' finally."

#its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #i told you now #rick grimes fanfiction #twd rick

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pupsmailbox · 4 months ago

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part fourteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

life goes on, for a time.

a/n: a BIG one wowowowowow okay the end of this one fully got away from me and I was possessed by SOMETHING but idk man fuckin’ enjoy, more on the way, thank you always for the love 🤍

word count: 6.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, backstory, canon typical violence and injuries, death/murder, guns, knives, drinking, some rough sex, ass-play, spit-play (POSSESSED I TELL YOU), joel miller is a menace and so am I.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new chapters/works!✨

You keep going.

It’s easier, honestly, that it’s ever been before. There had been so many moments, between the outbreak and seeing Joel again at that gas station, where you didn’t know if you could keep going, if there was enough left to make you want to.

Deanna had her ways, yanking you out of it more often that not with a bottle of gin and a you keep your chin up, girl. And the kids — well, one toothy grin from Emily or a cheesy joke from Henry and you knew you had more in you. Nick helped some too, though he was more of a distraction than a solution, something infinitely more evident to you now, to you both.

You’d hurt him, ending it finally, completely, the way you did, and his reaction had cut you deep, but it had to be done. You couldn’t keep up a charade, and in retrospect, yes, maybe you should have waited, stopped yourself from falling into Joel’s arms (and bed) again until you’d told Nick what was happening, but…

I can’t love anyone the way I love him.

It’s always gonna be him.

It would have unfolded the way it did no matter what.

It’s Joel. It’s always gonna be Joel.

And despite the guilt you chase away with deep kisses and glasses of liquor, it’s easier, to keep going. It almost feels…normal, in a way you haven’t felt in a long fucking time.

Life is still bleak as hell; there’s no getting around that. FEDRA’s been kicking into high gear in Boston, handing out punishments more than ration cards, refusing people at the gates, falling back on some bullshit about overpopulation, that there’s not enough food or beds or resources for any more people.

You’ve heard rumours that the QZ in Philadelphia was overrun, that the reason there have been so many survivors at the Boston gates is because they fled to the closest QZ still standing. You’ve heard rumours about Kansas City, that FEDRA’s become more ruthless there than anywhere else in the country, that getting caught out past curfew gets you hung rather than beaten. Or worse.

Joel moves in, officially. Not that he has that many things to move into your apartment, but his clothes take up space in your closet, his toothbrush beside yours, and you wake up beside him every morning. You let yourself get used to it, to feeling his breath on the back of your neck when the sun comes up, arm slung around your waist, always keeping you fit against him while you sleep. It’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

Joel and Tommy take the handyman jobs in the apartment buildings, and you and Tess try to stick together, taking the same gigs more often than not. You pool your resources, and the three of them are quick to offer up help to support the kids, to take the pressure off you and Deanna. You’re grateful as all hell, and so is Deanna, despite her relatively grouchy demeanour towards you, ever since you told her you ended it with Nick, officially.

You thought she’d understand, to a degree. It had taken nearly a half bottle of gin in the early days of the QZ, but she’d gotten the full story out of you, the epic love affair of Joel Miller and Liv Stone, the unfettered version. You’d fallen asleep on her couch covered in tissues that night, woke up with the worst hangover you’d had since you were eighteen and got drunk with Anna on wine coolers over Spring Break. Deanna had offered you some sympathy, then.

But now, she’s been taking your — could you even call it a breakup? — your severance from Nick a little too harshly.

“He’s the reason I was in lockup the night Angie beat the shit out of me,” you’d reminded her, feeling a twinge in your side at the memory. “Or did you forget that?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Liv,” she’d thrown back, her face the harshest you’d ever seen it. “He put you in lockup to smuggle your friends through the gate. I’m not a fucking idiot. Don’t try and blame that on him. You got your ass kicked cuz you pissed Angie off, plain and simple. That’s not on Nick.”

“Oh, so then I should blame you?” You’d thrown a hand in her direction, and she’d glared so hard you thought she was gonna burn a hole through your skull. “I pissed off Angie trying to get those meds for Henry, which you asked me to do. So if you wanna start pointing fingers, start looking in the mirror.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t have gotten the meds for Henry?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You can��t talk yourself out of this, Liv. You knew what you were doing with Nick, all five fucking years. You knew exactly what you were—”

“It’s Joel!” you’d nearly screamed, tears crawling up your throat. “I never thought I’d see him again. It’s a second fucking chance, Deanna. I can’t waste that. I won’t. And I was as honest as I could be with Nick from the start. He knew about Joel, he knew I still loved him, he knew I couldn’t ever love him the way I love Joel. I never once told him I could.”

“Oh, and that makes it all better?”

“I know that I hurt him. But he hurt me, too, in case you give a shit. I know that I did a terrible fucking thing, I’m a terrible fucking person, and I’ll feel guilty about it forever, but it’s Joel. And I just…I can’t do anything else.”

She’d stared at you long and hard then, not so harsh a glare as before. She put her hands on her hips, boot tapping against the floor. “I have to go get the kids from school. Just…I’ll see you Friday, for dinner.”

You just nodded, swallowing hard, the tears retreating. “Friday.”

“Bring Joel.”

“Okay.”

(Dinner had been awkward as hell, to start. The kids had stared Joel down for the first hour, but by the time the table was being set, Emily was showing off her latest drawings and Henry was trying to rope Joel into a game of Monopoly. You helped Deanna with dinner, and while she was mostly quiet, before you left that night, she hugged you tight and whispered: “You’re not a bad person, Liv. You’re not.”)

After your official reconciliation with Joel — and subsequent fallout with Nick — Tess was the next person you went to. She stood firmly by the conversation you’d had in the food bank, kept to her agreement to join up with you to smuggle, and that was that.

You can’t force his hand in this.

Maybe I can.

You knew she had — Joel had given you the brief version of their conversation — and you were grateful, but it was just another thing you felt guilty for.

“You don’t have to,” she says to you. You’re outside the wall, heading for the hotel a few blocks out of the QZ, to scope out your route. Your drop is almost at the city limits, with some smugglers from Hartford, ones you’d happened across on the radio. You’ve been spending more time with Abe in the radio room in your spare time, trying to make as many new connections as you can. “Feel guilty, I mean. I didn’t give him to you. He was never mine to give. I knew that from the start.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He says your name in his sleep. I thought he was just mumbling for the longest time — y’know, Liv, live — then I figured it out. I asked Tommy once, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. And well, I know the rest now.”

You chew at your lip, bat swinging lightly in your grip, adjusting the backpack strap on your shoulder. Your bags are mostly empty; you’re anticipating a good food drop from the Hartford people, and they’d asked mainly for drugs in return, which you were happy to supply. You still have some left from the Providence drop, before Joel and Tess had showed up. It feels like a year ago, not a few weeks.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re alone, Tess.”

“I’m not alone,” she tells you quickly, an actual smile on her face. “I have you. And Tommy. And Joel, still, in a different kind of way. It doesn’t matter. Life’s too fucking short, and I couldn’t…” She trails off, shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not alone.”

You shoot her a glance, seeing the way her thumb is rubbing at the wedding ring still on her finger. It’s her nervous habit, you’ve noticed. “We’ll find you someone,” you say, almost jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, elbowing her gently. “I’ll set you up, add QZ matchmaker to my resume.”

Tess barks a laugh. “Please, god, just no fucking FEDRA soldiers, yeah? I don’t think I could deal with the amount of testosterone that fucker Cowan is carrying around.” She squints at you, turning to you slightly. “Tell me he was at least good in bed. He must have been, for you to put up with that bullshit.”

You force yourself to laugh in return, staring at the ground ahead, kicking pieces of debris from your path. “He was much nicer, when it was just me and him. And I hurt him bad.” You shrug, sighing. “It’s the past but he…yes, to answer your question, he was very good in bed.”

“As good as Joel?”

You nearly choke, sputtering out an actual laugh at her bluntness. “You really want me to answer that?”

“Hey, it’s just us out here.”

“No one’s as good as Joel,” you say, and she throws her head back with a louder laugh. “Best I ever had. Ever. In my life.”

Tess just keeps laughing, pulls the knife from her belt and taps it against your bat. “Amen to that.”

The conversation wanders as you walk. She tells you a bit more about Baltimore, the few smuggling jobs they’d pulled before they’d gotten kicked out of the QZ. Turns out, her plans had been similar to yours: get a FEDRA soldier on her side, entice them with the goodies she smuggled in, threaten them with blackmail. Rinse and repeat. And it worked, for a time.

“There was this one guy, Anderson. Joel never liked him, and really, neither did I, but he was one of the first we got to agree to help. And…you know, Cowan actually reminds me of him.” She huffs a laugh. “That’s probably why I hate him, just out of fucking principle.”

“You don’t have to hate him.”

“He’s FEDRA, he put you in lockup, and he’s a jackass.”

“I also cheated on him, technically.”

She shrugs, giving you a conspiratorial grin. “Best you ever had? You did what you had to.”

You just laugh, but the sound feels hollow.

“Liv,” Tess says, and you stop short, turning towards her when she grabs your arm. “Jokes aside, I just…I get it. Why you did what you did. I know you feel guilty, and I know Cowan said some shitty things to you, but…we do terrible things, sometimes. To survive.”

You scoff. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” With a sigh, you push forward, gravel crunching under your boots, and Tess follows suit. “Joel said that too. That he did some terrible shit out there to survive. That we’re not the same as we were. And we’re not. I’m not.”

“Yeah, well, the world hasn’t exactly left much room for shit to stay the same, has it?”

The bat swings in your grip, and you let the tip knock against the toe of your boot. “Not so much. Never thought it would turn me into a killer, mind you. But…we do terrible shit, right?” You glance at her from the corner of your eye, feeling her gaze locked on you. “And no, I’m not just talking about Infected.”

Tess nods, slowly, her throat bobbing. “I…I shot that soldier, Anderson. First FEDRA soldier I ever killed, probably won’t be the last. But, it was either me or him, and I shot first. Then again, cuz the first one didn’t kill him.” Her brow is hard, fingers twitching over the gun strapped to her thigh. “It was either me or him.”

You nod, and the memory is rising in your throat and spilling off you tongue before you can stop it.

It was early days, just after the wall was completed, when restlessness got the better of you and you wanted — no, needed — to get out of the QZ, just for a while. There were fewer connections, back then, less people out in the open, more dead on the roads. You didn’t like Geoff from the get-go, something about him just made you feel super fucking uncomfortable, like every word out of his mouth was drenched in grease. But, you didn’t know any better, back then, and you wanted to believe a deal was a deal.

“He set me up,” you tell Tess, tightening your grip on the bat. Retelling the story makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “He’d managed to get a few Infected locked inside this old hair salon, and threw me to the wolves, basically. Took the bat from me. I got fucking lucky; there was a straight razor left in one of the drawers, and I took them both down. It was the first time I’d killed one since the outbreak.”

“What happened to Geoff?”

“Once I got away, found him a couple hours down the road, got his gun off him and put a bullet in his head, got my bat back. I figured if he kept going, he’d just try and screw the next person he made a deal with, and on and on it would go. I had to end it.”

Tess nods. “You did what you had to.”

You scoff. “That’s not the worst part.”

After Geoff, you got jumpy. You didn’t want to let up on the smuggling, and you were still trying to find new connections, but you took more precautions. You brought a gun every time now, along with the bat. You only met in locations you chose, and refused anyone who tried to persuade you to go somewhere else. You didn’t trust people; you couldn’t.

“This guy, Eric, he just rubbed me the wrong way that day. He wasn’t a bad guy, per se; I knew he ran with some shitty people but he didn’t seem so bad. He met me down in the subway, simple ammo trade.” You blow out a breath. “I thought he was reaching for a gun, and I pulled the trigger before he could. Like you said: it was either him or me. And I chose me.”

You pause, waiting for Tess to say it again. You did what you had to.

“Three days later, his wife shows up at the gate, asking if he’d come through, toting this little boy that was a dead fucking ringer for his dad. I thought I was seeing a ghost.” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “They still live in Boston. Her son is the same age as Emily.”

It’s a few minutes, before Tess has anything more to say. “You couldn’t have known.”

“You’re right,” you agree, nodding. “I couldn’t. But it still doesn’t hurt any less. When they’re infected, it’s easier. Almost. I sometimes wonder if they’re still…them inside, but same thing. It’s either you or them, and you have to decide. You do what you have to — even if it’s terrible — to stay alive. To survive.”

Tess opens her mouth to say something in response, but all hell breaks loose before she can get a word out.

You’ve turned down the road the hotel is on, and there are cars everywhere, craters in the earth from the bombings, debris and decay everywhere you look. The bullets ring out from behind the vehicles, and you grab Tess by the handle of her backpack, yanking her behind a nearby truck. The gunfire makes it rattle. “Fuck!”

“These the guys from Hartford?”

“Shouldn’t be. We’re not even close to the city limits yet.”

When you chance a look around the truck, your heart jumps into your throat. There’s at least five of them, all with dark-coloured bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces, two of them closer than the rest. Guns drawn, scores of ammo hanging from their belts. You adjust your grip on the bat just as Tess screams, and you turn to see her being pulled away, one of the raiders yanking her by the hair. You shout as one tries to grab you the same, but you slip out of reach, swinging the bat. It makes contact with his knees, a loud crunch making you flinch. He falls like a rock and you pull your knife out quickly, slamming the blade into his skull.

You do what you have to.

Abandoning the bat for the moment, you grab the guy’s gun, averting your eyes from his face. It’s an automatic, and you pop up from behind the truck, taking aim and pulling the trigger. The three that hadn’t advanced don’t stand a chance, bodies falling before they have the chance to shoot back at you.

The one holding Tess is trying to pull her into one of the storefronts along the side of the road.

“Hey!” you shout, the word nearly a growl. “Let her go, asshole!”

The guy turns, seeing his fallen comrades, and fumbles. It’s just enough for Tess to get her knife out and swing upwards. It ends up lodged in his throat rather than his head, and he drops awkwardly, clawing at his throat, blood pouring around his fingers. Bile rises in your throat, and you breathe slow as he hits the ground. Tess pulls her gun out a moment later, and the gunshot echoes through the road.

You sprint over to her, each of you giving the other a once over. “You good?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.”

“Who taught you to shoot like that?”

You actually laugh this time. “Cowan.”

Tess’s jaw drops. “Motherfucker.”

You collect all the guns and ammunition you can carry. One of the raiders has a nice-looking bowie knife on his belt, and you take it, sheath and all. Tess makes the rounds, filling her bag with ammo, while you try and leave some space; you still have to make it to the edge of the city.

Being as heavily armed as you now are earns you some weird looks from the Hartford smugglers once you reach the city limits. The chain link fence that was once the only thing standing between you and getting the hell out of Boston has not done well over the years. The metal is cut in a million more places, bent in others, no doubt the result of years of Infected climbing over, survivors trying to make it to the QZ gates. When you explain what happened, the leader — the one you’d been dealing with over the radio, a tall woman named Gwen — softens. “We lost a few of our own to raiders in New Haven. Shit’s getting dark.” She sighs. “Darker than it already was.”

The deal goes easily, which you’re grateful for. You throw in one of the guns and some ammo you pilfered from the raiders to sweeten the deal, and Gwen returns your generosity with some of her own: a carton of eggs. Fresh ones. It’s been a while now, since the Boston food bank has had anything fresh that wasn’t an apple or a tomato. Meat was becoming more and more scarce, and so were eggs. The ones Deanna used for breakfast were the powdered kind, sat like a lead weight in your stomach no matter how much coffee you washed them down with.

“If you have eggs, does that mean…chickens?” Tess asks, curiosity dripping from her voice, and you can’t help the way your stomach growls at the thought of chicken wings.

Gwen laughs. “I’m not having the chicken or the egg debate with you, but yes, there are chickens. I don’t suppose you have seeds, in Boston? Fruits, veggies?”

“We do,” you nod.

“Bring us some next time, and we’ll bring you one of the hens in return.”

You and Tess debate the best way to cook a chicken all the way home.

Once you’re safely back in the QZ, you and Tess unload the guns in one of your caches, head back to the apartments to divvy the food up between you and Joel’s apartment, Tess and Tommy’s, and Deanna’s. She goes to take the food up to Deanna, and you pull out the bowie knife you’d nicked.

It’s as good an olive branch as any.

You find Nick out on patrol, standing outside the same alleyway you’d stopped in when Tommy had arrived in Boston, when Nick told you Deanna was looking for you. At first, he makes no indication he’s even noticed you, his eyes trained forward, hands glued to his gun, his jaw set.

“I know you don’t want to see me,” you say, your voice low, forcing yourself to look casual. “But, there’s something I want to say. Need to. Please?”

After a beat, Nick turns, his face still schooled blank, but when you step after him, deeper into the alley, the mask cracks. “What?”

“This is for you,” you say, pulling the bowie knife out from where you’d stashed it in your jacket.

Nick told you once, about a gift he’d received from his father, when he first joined the army. A knife, similar to the one you now hold towards him. The blade was engraved with his family name, the date he enlisted, sheathed in fine leather. He lost it, on Outbreak Day, in a fight with an Infected soldier.

“It’s…I know, it doesn’t make up for what I did. I don’t think anything can. But I just…I want you to know that I’m sorry, truly sorry, and if hating me makes you feel better, then that’s okay. But I never meant for things to turn out this way. And what I said before, about Joel, it’s the truth, but I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I hope you know that.”

He takes the knife from you, pulls the blade from the sheath, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he inspects it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs a laugh. “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that to me.”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” you say, nearly reaching a hand out to him, but stopping yourself. “I really am.”

After a long moment, he nods, still staring down at the knife. “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Liv. To be safe. And if that fucking…if Joel is the one to do that, then I have to be okay with that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “It’ll take some damn time, but I’ll…I’ll get there, I think. I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to be friends with him, yeah?”

You laugh. “I don’t. I just…I am sorry, Nick. I feel like a broken record, but…”

“It helps,” he says with a nod.

“Good.” It feels awkward, suddenly, and you take it as your cue to leave. “I’m gonna go.”

“See you around,” he says, and you just nod, heading towards the street, out of the alley. “Hey, Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a bad person. You did a shitty thing, but you’re not a bad person.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, Nick.”

He nods again, and you turn on your heel, heading back towards the apartments.

Time moves on.

Nick still keeps his distance, but he doesn’t look at you with sheer hatred in his eyes anymore, so that’s nice. Deanna learns you’ve made peace with each other, and tells you you did good. It helps. The guilt still lingers a bit, but it helps.

You keep up your smuggling, bringing Tess and Joel and Tommy — and any combination of the three — along with you every time. You teach them your routes, your hiding spots, where your caches are. Joel’s impressed, if not a little hesitant, Tommy of a similar mind. Tess remains firm that you’re a badass, and is always the first to volunteer to come with you.

You’re all still quiet, about your pasts, about the time leading up to the four of you being in Boston together. Except for what Tess told you, the story you returned — one she swore she wouldn’t pass on to Joel, one you knew you had to tell him yourself.

You will, in time. You know you have to. But…you’re not there yet. And in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t fucking matter.

None of it does.

Before you know it, it’s been nearly six months since they arrived, and you decide to celebrate, the only way you can in the QZ: food and booze.

“Family dinner?” Joel repeats, his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side. It’s early in the morning, you’re both getting ready to head out, pulling on clothes and shoving feet into boots. You usually sleep fully dressed, boots and all, but Joel’s tendency to get you naked has become a nightly occurrence, and sometimes you’re too worn out to redress when you’re done.

You turn on your heel, head for the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a jar of tomato sauce and setting it on the counter. Joel’s close behind, grabbing the jar when you put it down, smirking down at the label. “Look familiar?”

His jaw twitches, something nostalgic in his eyes. “Same shit I used to buy in Texas.” He smirks, setting it down again, sliding his arms around your waist. “Didn’t we make spaghetti, at my place? What was that, our second date?”

You lean back against him, covering his hands with yours, lacing your fingers together. “I made spaghetti; you tried to make risotto.”

“That’s right,” he agrees and his hands move to your hips, turning you to face him. “That was the first night we—”

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off, leaning up on your toes until your mouth brushes his. “It was.”

Joel slides his hands up under your shirt, palms curling around your ribs, giving you a hungry kiss. “And now you expect me to sit through dinner with…?”

“Tommy and Tess.”

He growls, ducking his head to bury his face in your neck. “To sit through dinner with my brother and Tess, thinking about that the whole time.”

You hum, tangling a hand in his hair. “I’ll be thinking about it too, if it’s any consolation. I’m always thinking about it.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he groans, nipping at your throat.

You’re both late, Tess giving you a pointed look when Joel pecks you goodbye when you meet her out front. “I swear, you two are worse than teenagers sometimes,” she mumbles, and you just laugh.

The day goes quickly — you and Tess each work a shift in the donation hall, which you’re told is shutting down, and the food bank — and before you know it, you’re back at the apartment, putting pots on the stove, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the space behind the fridge.

You and Tess are already a little sauced by the time Joel and Tommy come through the door. Tommy has paint smeared on his cheek and Joel is laughing, that kind of belly laugh you haven’t heard since Austin. You grin as he kisses you hello, Tommy pecking your cheek once Joel disappears towards the bedroom to get changed. “Kisses from all the Millers,” you laugh, stirring the sauce on the stove. “Aren’t I a lucky gal.”

Joel pokes his head out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

Tess laughs with you, pulling the chair beside her out for Tommy to sit. She slides him a glass of whiskey a second later. “What the hell is on your face, man?”

“Ah, hell.”

The evening passes so comfortably, you wonder if you’re dreaming, for a moment or two. The boys both won’t shut up about how delicious your spaghetti is — even though the pasta is the flourless crap FEDRA hands out, your sauce more than makes up for it — and it’s not long before you’ve polished off the bottle of whiskey between the four of you. Your chest feels warm, from the alcohol, the good food, the company.

Once you’re all done eating, Tommy produces a deck of cards and convinces you all to play a few rounds of euchre. You and Tess team up and kick the boys’ ass, to the point where Joel declares you must be cheating, which Tess is having none of. “Never thought you’d be a sore loser, Miller!”

The game changes from euchre to war, and Tess and Tommy make their own rules, deciding to smack the table as hard as they can when the card matches, even if the other’s hand is already there. It has them both howling after a couple rounds, you and Joel just chuckling as you watch. Joel slides your chair closer to his, close enough that he can loop an arm around your neck, hauling you against his chest.

He buries his nose in your hair as you lean against him, moving down until his mouth is close to your ear. “How much longer we gonna entertain these two, hmm? I need you all to myself, baby. Need to be inside you.”

Your thighs clench, cheeks flaring with heat, and you smack him in the chest, burying your face in the collar of your shirt.

He just chuckles in your ear, low as anything. “You like that, huh, baby? You gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you? Always so good for me. Promise, I’m gonna make you feel so damn good, baby.”

You elbow him in the ribs. Hard. Hard enough that he lets out a low oomph, and both Tess and Tommy’s heads snap in your direction. You stare back at them, feigning innocence, whiskey buzzing in the back of your skull. “What?”

A few more games of cards, and Tess literally falls out of her chair, laughing the whole way down. Joel declares the night officially over, and Tommy gets Tess to her feet, half-carries her towards the door. “You need help?” Joel asks, and Tommy shakes his head.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. You two have a good night. Thanks for dinner, Liv.”

“You’re welcome, Tommy.”

The door closes behind them, and Joel lingers, locking the door, closing the curtains, clearing off the table. Meanwhile, you head for the bed, fumbling with the buttons on your shirt — Joel’s shirt, always Joel’s shirt — before giving up and falling forward onto the mattress, reaching for Joel’s pillow, bunching it beneath your head.

The bed creaks a moment later, Joel’s weight settling over you, hands planted either side of you, mouth at the back of your neck. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, missy.”

“You should fix that,” you slur at him, turning your face enough to see the shadow of him above you. You wiggle your hips, lifting your ass until it presses against his crotch, and Joel hisses. “You got promises to make good on, Joel Miller.”

“I do,” he replies, letting out a low hum as he drags his hand down your spine. “Don’t I?”

He shuffles back, and the loss makes you whine, but he slides your needs apart a moment later, grips your hips and lifts until your ass is in the air, face still pressed into the pillow. Joel doesn’t waste any time, fingers curling in the waist of your leggings and pulling them down, taking your underwear with them. You barely have a chance to breathe, his mouth covering you a moment later, tongue darting between your folds. “Fucking christ, Joel.”

He hums again, the noise vibrating through you, one hand coming down on your cheek in a quick spank a second later. You can feel yourself flooding his tongue, already wet from his teasing at the table. Reaching one hand back, you card your fingers through his hair, keeping him against you, angling your hips back to push yourself further into his face.

“Pretty girl,” he rasps, dragging the flat of his tongue up and down, back up and back down again. The rhythm makes your muscles tighten, the promise of an orgasm prickling at your senses. “Always taste so good.” He gives you another quick spank, the motion making your flesh tingle. “Always feel so good.”

“Joel.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he grumbles, diving back in for a moment before pulling back once more. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, just like I promised.”

You moan into the pillow, whining again when he pulls back, your hand falling out of his hair, flopping sideways onto the bed. You curl your fingers in the bedsheets instead, gasping loudly when he presses two wet fingers into you, right to the knuckle in one fell swoop. His thumb reaches up, pushes lightly between your cheeks, and you let out a choked noise you didn’t know you were capable of.

“That feel good?” he asks, and you nod, your face still pressed to his pillow. “You want more, baby?”

You nod again, furiously.

“Want you inside me,” you murmur, your eyes rolling back in your skull as his thumb presses harder. “Fuck, Joel, please.”

There’s the shuffling of fabric, the clink of his belt buckle, the front of his thighs pressed to the backs of yours. You turn your head slightly, just enough to see him, the hem of his t-shirt tucked between his teeth, his cock in his hand. The sight alone makes you clench around his fingers, biting your lip as he pulls them out. They dig into the meat of your ass a moment later, spreading you open just a touch more. His thumb stays where it is, and you watch, stomach coiled in anticipation as he leans forward just slightly, drops his jaw until the t-shirt falls from his mouth, and spits.

It lands right where his thumb is, slides down over where you’re already drenched, and he flexes his hips forward. You try to bury your moan in his pillow, but Joel reaches down with his other hand, fists your hair in his hand, tugs a little.

“I wanna hear you, baby.”

“The neighbours—”

“I don’t give a fuck, Liv. Let me hear you.”

A choked moan falls out as he slams all the way forward, burying himself to the hilt, his thumb pressing down at the same time. You keep your face to the side, keep your eyes trained on his. He lets go of your hair just to take hold of your hip, pulling back just to slam forward again, the feeling and movement making your thighs shake.

“Joel, fuck—”

“That’s right,” he grits, and his pace only gets faster, the apartment filling with the sound of skin on skin. It drives you wild. “That’s fuckin’ right. Say it again.”

He spanks you again, just that much harder, and you cum.

It hits you like a freight train, your back arching fiercely as you lose it, eyes screwed shut, thighs shuddering against Joel’s. Faintly, you hear him groan, barely aware of the next spank he gives. You’re half-sure you’ll have a handprint on your ass come morning, but you don’t fucking care. His name spills from your lips, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and your stomach flutters as he fists his hand in the back of your shirt and drags you up.

You can’t catch your breath, your chest heaving as he takes your chin in his hand, one arm banded around your middle as he keeps slamming into you, dropping his fingers between your legs. You don’t know where one orgasm finishes and the second begins, but he covers your mouth with his, drinks your noises down like they’re whiskey instead of moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips, his hips stuttering against your ass. “Love you so goddamned much.”

You flail a hand back, diving your fingers into his hair, tugging until his head moves back slightly, so you can look him in the eyes. “Then cum,” you murmur, leaning forward enough to bite at his bottom lip. “Cum for me.”

He does, his entire body shuddering with it, his grip on you like an iron vice. The warmth is delicious, spreading through your lower half like the whiskey had, only the feeling of Joel is that much more addictive, always leaving you wanting more. You both collapse forward a second later, a tangle of limbs and lips, never far from reach.

Joel wakes with a jolt. The nightmares have been less and less common, since he got to Boston, since he started sleeping in the same bed as you again, but they still show their faces every once in a while. Usually the drinking keeps them at bay, but tonight they’re intent to haunt him.

You’re not where you should be, tucked against his chest, and for a moment, panic seizes his heart, makes his hands go cold.

“Liv?”

You’re perched on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, staring out the window. His mostly unbuttoned shirt is falling off your shoulders, and when he calls your name, you glance at him quickly before your gaze moves back out the window. Joel doesn’t miss the shine in your eyes, and sits up slow, reaches for you, rubbing one hand up your back.

“You all right?”

“I’m happy,” you reply, head tilting back on your shoulders, face illuminated by the moonlight. “I am unreasonably happy, Joel. I’ve done so much terrible shit, and yet here I am, stupidly, unreasonably, unfathomably happy.”

He reaches up, pinches your cheek lightly, catches the tear in the corner of your eye. “Then why you cryin’, baby?”

“Cuz I know there’s a chance that I could wake up tomorrow, and it could all be gone.” Your voice cracks, and Joel sits up further, slides down the bed until he’s pressed against your side. “That you could be gone.”

“Never,” he tells you, and opens his arms to you, sighing when you fall into them, presses his mouth to the crown of your head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here, you hear me? I’m right here.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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arroganceisherfavoritecolor · 11 months ago

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Enjoy the silence

Carl and reader have a moment while on the job...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Reader uses fem pronouns, mentions of past bullying, reader is insecure✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a long day for you and your friends in Alexandria. You had been on a run since early in the morning, having to leave at sunrise due to the long drive out to a city to look for some supplies. You had all gotten back by the time the sun was almost completely out of sight, thankfully. You were all hoping to get home, shower and knock out as soon as possible. But of course, you and your best friend, Carl, were the two people Deanna had ordered to keep watch.

Now usually, you despised having to be on watch duty. You found it boring and agonizingly long, and what made it worse was the fact that there was no chance of sleeping till the next day. But when you did it with Carl, it was a whole different story. Carl always found a way to make the night more interesting, whether it be his funny dad-jokes or the gossip he would hear around Alexandria. In other words, Carl made everything so, so much better. Although it had only been about a year since you first met him, he felt like home. He surrounded you with a warm feeling, you knew that no matter what, you could go to him and you'd feel okay. As you were deep into your thoughts, you heard footsteps coming from the ladder. You looked to the right and saw Carl making his way up. Your heart lit up and you felt that feeling of warmth wash over you. You smiled at Carl involuntarily, just looking at him made you feel happy. "Hey [Name]." His voice sounded like music to your ears, better than any tune or beat you've heard in your life. "Hi Carl." He stood next to you. You and Carl were almost touching shoulders, since the towers small box-like frame didn't provide the most space. You began to converse with him, talking about how the day went. Every few minutes, either you or Carl would see a walker and shoot it down and then go back to your conversation.

It had been 3 hours of you and him talking. The time flew by like seconds. This was another thing you liked about Carl, it was the way you could talk to him for hours and never get bored. At some point, you had brought up how at one of the recent parties, some older women in Alexandria began to make snarky comments towards you. They said things about how your hair looked ragged and your skin was dull. You'd think that when in the middle of a zombie outbreak, they'd have much better things to worry about. "The old-heads gave me shit about my skin and hair again" you said with a slight chuckle, you didn't want Carl to think you were a sensitive crybaby. "tch, dont even pay attention to them [Name], they're just jealous because theyre all old and wrinkly." You laughed at Carls remark. "Its okay, I dont really mind. I remember in school, before the outbreak, kids would pick on me for the same shit." Carls once relaxed aura turned curious. "What would they say exactly?" He asked politely, not wanting to intrude.

"Well, it was usually about my face or my weight. It used to make me really upset, to the point where i'd beg my mom to not take me to school. But after a little while, I learned not to care . Besides, growing up with mostly skinny and pretty friends kind of toughens you up." You tried smiling at Carl and looking him in the eyes to show you werent sad. "What do you mean?" He asked. "A lot of my friends would have all the boys chasing after them, even in Kindergarten. Think of it like how Enid gets treated by every other teen here. Since I wasnt ever really the cute type, i'd just watch from the side." You smiled again, but this time avoided eye contact. "Wait, so youre saying that NO boys had crushes on YOU?" He emphasized on the "you" part. "I mean... I guess?" You shrugged while grinning. Carls face was twisted in a confused expression. "Why are you looking at me like that Grimes?" You laughed out. "I just find it hard to believe that no one ever 'like-liked' you." You tilted your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion as to what he was gonna say. "Youre just so... perfect. Youre smart, funny, beautiful... and you can beat some zombie ass." You giggled, feeling a blush creep up on your face. "You think i'm beautiful, Carl?" You asked him shyly, afraid of sounding conceited or selfish. "Of course I do [Name]." He said.

He turned his head all the way in your direction, wanting a perfect view of you. He looked so handsome in this moment. His sheriffs hat was on top of his soft brown hair. His flannel was unbuttoned half way, his white t-shirt peeking through. The sleeves of the flannel were rolled up to his forearm. His hands were behind his back, slender and tall frame leaning against the wooden post of the watch tower. His face was illuminated by the soft glowing oil lamp that sat on the chair in front of you two. His diamond-like eye and ghostly pale skin looked so pretty in the mixture of the warm light of the lamp and the cold light of the moon. You felt your heart rate spike, your pupils dilated. He looked so kissable, all you wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and kiss his lips til you were both breathless. Carl could say the same for you, as your (eye color) eyes and (skin color) skin looked gorgeous in the light of the lamp and moon. Your slightly tattered tank top hugged your curves and your low-waisted ripped black jeans did as well, exposing a small portion of your mid drift. Carl noticed your cheeks were rosy and your eyes were glossy. Your lips were slightly parted due to the impact of Carl calling you beautiful.

He fixed his posture, standing all the way up and walked towards you. It only took about 1 or 2 steps for him to be face to face with you. He tilted his head downwards, making eye contact. (eye color) eyes gazing into his, you felt the warm feelings 10x. He touched your (hair color) hair, twirling it in his fingers. His hands went from your hair to your cheek, cupping it. He stroked his thumb against your soft skin, feeling the heat. 'So much for dull skin and hair' Carl thought to himself, cursing those old hags for making his love feel bad. "Carl.." You finally spoke out, your voice nothing but a low whisper. From this angle, Carls face was no longer in view of the lamp. The only lighting you got was from the moon, directly shining down on you and him. You took each other's features in, not once breaking contact from eachother. Carl closed his eye, slowly began to lean in, and kissed you. His pink lips were soft, the feeling of the kiss was like satin bed sheets and velvety pillows. He put his other hand on your other cheek, guiding you to be impossibly closer to him. You felt fireworks go off in your brain and stomach. The moment you had waited so long for had finally happened. You deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could feel Carls tongue slip inside of your mouth, the feeling so foreign and yet so good. You slowly broke away from the kiss face hotter than ever. You and Carl stood there, trying to process what had just happened. After a few 30 seconds, you both began laughing from the overwhelming feeling of happiness. For the rest of the night, you held each other, enjoying the silence.

"All I ever wanted

All I ever needed

Is here in my arms" - Enjoy the Silence, Depeche Mode

A/N: I have wanted to write for Carl for the longesttt time !! I hope u guys liked it pls request more stufffff ;3

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader

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xwritingdixonx · 2 years ago

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Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 2 |

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series masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Deanna discuss the arrival of the new group in Alexandria, causing more conflict amongst the Blackwell family. Until, Rick and a very familiar face stroll up to their front porch simply wanting to say hello.

Warnings: Arguing, language, mentions of physical fighting/ abuse, sensitive topics (the inability to have children)

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: @daryldixcnswife

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The dirt that had accumulated on your skin over the past 2 weeks ran down the tub meeting the metal drain of the shower. Cleaning up was dreadful yet relieving. The way the hot water hit every tense muscle in your body from sleeping on floors and washed away all the blood and grime that covered, what felt like, every inch of you. You scrubbed and scrubbed. Scrubbed under your nails, your scalp, your skin. Washing everything twice and giving yourself a good shave. You didn’t have to, you knew that. Dead walked the earth. No one gave a shit about body hair. But you did it this time just to make yourself feel better.

It was in moments like this, that you thought about him. Moments when you got to be alone and your mind would wonder.

You’d practically shove Daryl into the shower, especially when he’d get home from the shop. He’d smell like oil and dirt. You could handle the dirt and sweat but not the oil, it gave you migraines if it lingered too long. Some days Daryl would mess with you, attempting to sneak up on you when he thought you didn’t notice (you could smell him before you saw him). Or chasing you around the apartment for a hug before he showered. But there were occasional days when he’d come home and you’d be curled up in bed, covering ur eyes from any light, and rubbing your temples from an already severe migraine. He’d go to the shower immediately, then come to you.

You cut the hot shower off, almost as a way to cut off your thoughts too. You slipped on a pair of light colored jeans that we’re probably a size or two big for you which you had to secure with a black belt with a chunky silver buckle. Your white tank top was fitted and tucked into your pants.

Your long hair hit almost the mid of your back. Cecilia and you had similar hair, brown and wavy. If there was something the Blackwell’s had in common, it was the hair that grew from their heads. Thick and full with waves or curls, varying shades of brunette. You pinned half of it up, letting your bangs fall to frame your face, making a note that you’d have to go see Jesse for a trim soon.

Decking yourself out in shades of silver and gold didn’t scare you. You wore the same silver necklace that held your ring, finding it a habit to play with it. Rings cluttered your fingers, as did the silver hanging from your ears. In total you had five piercings on each ear. You and Nellie got all of them together when you were teenagers. Two on your lobe, two on your lower helix, and one on your upper helix. It wasn’t everyday you wore your ear jewelry, in fear that in a fight they could be ripped out.

The ink that forever touched your skin was your favorite accessory. You didn’t have to clip them on everyday, didn’t have to worry about them falling off and losing them forever. They were just always beautifully there.

After lacing up the same black boots you laced everyday, you were off to Deanna’s, not returning home for another dragged 4 hours.

The sun was no longer at its peak in the sky, it was at a mid point meaning it would be setting within the next couple hours. You shut the red front door behind you, rounding the corner to the kitchen which connected to the dining area. The conversation you heard when you had first walked in the door had come to a close. Everyone sat around the large dining table with changes of clothes, clean skin, and clean fluffy hair. “Celia told us….about the group” Nellies words were soft and quiet, “that’s why you were at Deanna’s right ?”

You let out a sigh and rested your hands on your hips “yeah, yeah it was”

No one could quite read your expression and you weren’t quite sure what emotion to present them with. You had talked to Deanna for hours, you were quite exhausted. In all honesty you just wanted to go to bed.

“Come on boys, let’s take this outside” Henry motioned for his nephew’s to leave the table and pick up their card game. As you approached the table Henry pulled out out his chair for you, you gave him a polite smile and a small thank you before sitting down. Henry didn’t like to get involved in family business too much. He wasn’t blood, he hadn’t married into the family unlike his older brother so usually he was quick to excuse himself unless you asked him to stay. You liked Henry, he was loyal to you and your family, a skilled fighter, and treated the boys as any amazing uncle would, they adored him.

“She’s not budging is she?” Tommy sat to your right, you shook your head. “I gave up after a couple hours” You truthfully admitted crossing your arms across your chest, “she says we can’t just kick them out, that they’ve gotten comfortable and that it would be cruel.”

The way the room fell silent showed how deep in thought everyone was, wracking their brains to decide their standpoint on the situation.

“She says they’re good people, that I need to meet them and decide what jobs they’d be best for. She even suggested having a dinner party” You continued, you could hear Eddie scoff a laugh from next to Tommy but you forced yourself to tune it out.

“She’s right.” Celia started with a serious tone in her voice, “they have children. We can’t just send them back out there. Those kids deserve a roof. And food. Just like Jace and Luke do.” Celia’s tone was firm, obviously show casing her stance on the matter. Deanna told you how Jace and Luke had been hanging out with the younger boy, his name was Carl and that he was a kind kid. Nellie expressed her agreement with Celia.

Eddie muttered a “god Nel” while shaking his head. “What Eddie?” Nellie snapped throwing her hands up in retaliation, “ i’m not saying we trust them! i’m saying we give it a chance. If something happens we deal with it.” Nellie wasn’t the type to yell and throw insults, even now she wasn’t yelling. There was almost a plea in her tone. Pleading for Eddie to just stop being so stubborn.

You remembered when your group arrived in Alexandria. You wondered if there was ever a time someone sat around their polished wood dining tables, debating your stay. Probably, you were quite the gossip for the first few weeks. Nellie’s pleading eyes met yours. “Sitting around debating their stay isn’t gonna change anythin’. Deanna made her choice.” Tommy interjected, Tommy always tried to be the middle ground in situations like this.

When there seemed to be a “right” and “wrong” side, Tommy stood arms crossed in the middle. And if he couldn’t find a middle ground, he stuck by your side, whatever your stance might be.

“How did you not know?” Eddie, unsurprisingly, turned his aggression towards you because you knew somehow in his mind, this was all your fault.

“What?”

“She didn’t once mention this to you?”

You let out a deep sigh and crossed your arms over your chest, “No Eddie.” You allowed your tone to match his, condescending and thick with ignorance. He sat up in the wooden chair causing it to creek, so you did the same. Straightening your back and allowing a light scowl to spread across your features. It wasn’t exactly intentional but it wasn’t unintentional either.

Everyone else at the table knew where this was going. You and Eddie were relentless with each other, the insults and name calling were vicious. Hands were only laid on each other once. You had shoved him back by his chest which resulted in him grabbing you by your wrists, shoving you into a wall. Tommy broke it up, screaming at the both of you. Eddie did apologize for that considering you had light bruises on your wrist for a few days after.

The bickering between the two of you began, “well then maybe you don’t have as much say in Alexandria as you think you do. I thought you were Deanna’s right hand” Eddie knew how to press your buttons, to dig right under your skin and just let himself marinate there. “I wasn’t here, remember? I was on the trip with the rest of you.” You watched Eddie roll his eyes with a malicious grin on his face, his next insult on the tip of his tongue.

“The same trip you murdered a pre-“ “Don’t.” You abruptly slammed your hand on the table creating a loud bang causing every in the room to flinch. Simultaneously standing up from your chair causing it to create a scraping noise against the floor. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, your nostrils flared, and your jaw clenched as your temper began to rise.

Eddie didn’t seem to care, always as if it was amusing to him. “Were you angry ?” He looked you dead in your eyes, taking a stance himself “jealous maybe?”

“Eddie” Nellie spoke in a firm yet quite tone in an attempt to tell him to stop. He was going too far, farther than he ever had before but he didn’t seem to care. Ever since the incident happened on the trip you knew he had just been waiting. Waiting to bring it up, waiting to scream at you for what you’d done.

“Because she was gonna have something you’d never have, a family.”

“I have a family.” You snapped back, keeping your composure at his words. Though your features had softened from the scowl you once wore.

“Maybe that’s why Daryl walked out. Because I might’ve too if my wife couldn’t give me-“

“Enough.” Tommy took his stance in front of Eddie, chest broad and an angry grimace on his face. Your face fell showing a hint of your vulnerability about that topic.

The look on Nellie and Cecilia’s face said it all as did the silence that settled in the room.

For a second you could see Eddie’s eyes droop with a hint of regret.

“Lizzie would hate you.” With those words, out went any regret Eddie had for his words. He went low but you always knew how to go lower.

Lizzie and Eddie were the oldest and the closest out of the four Blackwell siblings. They were so close in age that they practically grew up as twins. They were the one’s who saw and dealt with the issues within the family long before Nellie or you had. You were both too young and ignorant. Lizzie was the one out of the two to approach things with a more mature and calm mindset. She was the one who bailed him out of all his shit. Who supported all the girlfriends and heartbreaks he went through. When Lizzie died a piece of Eddie went with her, she kept him good. Kept him from turning angry. Like your father.

There was truth in what you said. Lizzie wouldn’t like how he carried himself now. Wouldn’t like how he treated you, the things he’s said to you.

You could see the hurt in Eddie’s face and his water line form with tears. You had never hit a nerve with Eddie while arguing to the point where you made him cry. “You’ve been alone these last few years! Alone and angry!” Eddie yelled at you, a quiver in his voice, before he turned to leave. “What would you suggest I do? Fill my bed with as many whores as you do to keep myself warm!?” You yelled at him as he exited the room, his stomping foot steps on the wood stairs before the slam of a door.

Nellie let out a sigh running her hands through her hair, “I’m sorr-“ “Fuck off Nel.”

Your hands shook from anger as you slipped a cigarette into your mouth and headed towards the front door. There was a gust of cool wind that hit your red hot tempered cheeks. You caught sight of the boys who sat around the little glass porch table, playing their card game. Hopefully, they heard nothing.

“Who’s winning?” You asked as you lit your cigarette and made your way over, leaning your lower back on the white railing of the porch. Making sure the wind blew the smoke in the opposite direction. “Uncle Henry” Luke jokingly rolled his eyes, a satisfied smile bearing on Henry’s face.

“I used to bet money with this game, of course I learned how to win”

Henry’s eyes met yours, you wore a frown on your face and so much dread behind your eyes. “Start a new game without me, I’m gonna talk to aunt Y/n”. Henry left his seat along with his cards and walked with you a bit farther down the porch to the stairs. Both of you stood opposite of the other, leaning your backs on the beams of the porch.

“I can only imagine how that went” You scoffed and nodded, “yeah about the same as it always does.”

Your head fell low, your eyes only looking at the ground of the porch and your boots. “I don’t know if it’s my place but I-“ Henry stopped mid sentence and sighed, “Deanna’s coming”. He spotted her a little bit farther down the road, 2 men following in her tracks. “And she brought company” You groaned and turned your back to the street, almost as if you were trying to hide yourself behind the white beams of the porch. Maybe your white tank top could camouflage you. “Fuck me” You muttered taking one last drag of your cigarette before stomping it out and kicking it off the porch. “Go grab everyone for me Henry” You blew the smoke out from your lips, mentally preparing yourself to turn around and put on a perfect exterior.

What could she possibly fucking want? Did she not get enough of you?

Rick and Daryl spotted the house Deanna was walking towards before they even got close to it. It was one of the larger houses in Alexandria, if not the largest.

Deanna had went over to Rick’s a bit after she was done talking to you, she asked him if he’d be willing to come meet some “very important people” and to bring whoever he wanted. Rick of course, picked Daryl. Daryl knew how to read people, he was quiet, observant and most of all, honest. Rick did ask him for one thing, a goddam shower.

Getting closer and closer to the house, Deanna waved at Henry, who retuned a polite wave and smile. But for Daryl, it revealed silhouette’s and faces that were all too familiar. He felt his heart pound against his chest, even though he stood outside, all the oxygen his lungs needed was gone. He knew it was you by the way your large back tattoo could be seen through the sheer white fabric of your shirt but he still didn’t allow himself to believe it. Not until he saw your face.

You turned with your hands on your hips, a forced smile on your lips, allowing yourself to be in clear view.

“Hey D?” You bare feet walked down the cool wood floor of your apartment hall, making your way to the living room where you could see a lamp on. Being up this early was normal for Daryl, he usually left for work before you got up but Daryl didn’t work today.

What you didn’t expect to see when you entered the living room was Daryl swinging the strap of a large duffel bag over his shoulder. “Where the fuck are you going?” You were still groggy and tired, your hair messy, only wearing short pajama shorts and a tank top. “I gotta go make sure Merle’s alright” You and Daryl had just argued about this yesterday, the news reports were getting worse and Daryl was insistent on going to Georgia to at least make sure his brother was okay. He tried to reason with you, saying he’d go check on your aunt Claudia too and that he’d be home within a day or two.

You never understood it, his brother was a piece of shit that he hadn’t talked to since your engagement. After Merle said you were just “some whore not worth putting a ring on”. You didn’t understand why he wanted to blow money on a plane ticket to go see that bastard.

“So what? You were just gonna leave me in the middle of the night?” The sleep that once clouded your eyes was replaced with burning hot tears. You were angry and hurt.

“No, I-“ Daryl finally caught your eye and saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. He dropped the bag back to the floor and came to you, cupping your face in his large hands. You crossed your arms across your chest, needing to show how angry you were. “I would never leave ya.”

“So then stay.”

The fake smiled you had forced on your face before dropped. A mixture of shock yet relief emitted off your features. You had to let a few seconds pass, struggling to let your brain process that he wasn’t just a polaroid picture you kept next to your bed. He wasn’t the linger of touches you could ghostly feel on your skin. He wasn’t a memory, he was right here. Your thoughts couldn’t formulate a sentence, your lips parted because you wanted to speak or cry out but you couldn’t. And you knew, if you didn’t touch him soon, every atom in your body would surely rip itself apart.

As soon as Daryl saw your foot take the first step down onto the stairs, it was his green light and he met you halfway. One second you were apart and the next your body was melting into his. His body is rough and stronger than the last time you felt him but it gives you more relief than you could’ve ever imagined.

You can feel his firm torso and beating heart. His arms are practically locked around your back pulling you closer in. You can feel your body shake and you can’t help but cry, cry because of the three long years of not having him.

You pull yourself back to look at him, cupping his face in your soft hands while his hands lingered on your hips. He doesn’t look at you at first, his head is low, his long hair falling in his eyes. “M’sorry” He chokes out, when Daryl met your eyes he expected anger which he knew he’d have to understand.

But that anger didn’t exist.

All he was met with were doughy eyes, watery with tears.

“I know” Your mouth painted a soft smile as you gave him a nod before folding him in your arms again. “Uncle Daryl?” The boys were next to give Daryl a hug, you heard him reply to them with a soft ‘hey kiddos’.

As the rest of the members in your family piled out of the house, Daryl got his fair share of hugs, hellos, and happy tears. You watched as Eddie held him especially tight, them sharing a few words you couldn’t quite hear. There was a particular person who couldn’t be spotted amongst the group. For a second it almost seemed as if Daryl looked for her, waiting for a hug from your eldest sister.

Daryl looked at you searching for an answer and you replied, with a simple shake of your head.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon series

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cattatonically · 2 years ago

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Haunted on Bourbon Street - Deanna Chase (Jade Calhoun, book 1)

Synopsis

Jade loves her new apartment–until a ghost joins her in the shower. When empath Jade Calhoun moves into an apartment above a strip bar on Bourbon Street, she expects life to get interesting. What she doesn’t count on is making friends with an exotic dancer, attracting a powerful spirit, and developing feelings for Kane, her sexy landlord. Being an empath has never been easy on Jade’s relationships. It’s no wonder she keeps her gift a secret. But when the ghost moves from spooking Jade to terrorizing Pyper, the dancer, it’s up to Jade to use her unique ability to save her. Except she’ll need Kane’s help–and he’s betrayed her with a secret of his own–to do it. Can she find a way to trust him and herself before Pyper is lost?

My Thoughts

This book was a very intense, high-stakes, dive-in-head-first introduction to the Jade Calhoun paranormal “cozy” mystery series. It was a bit of a wild ride beginning to end – but I really enjoyed it!

Jade is a spitfire – something we all know I enjoy greatly in a protagonist. She’s blunt, up front, and calls it like she sees it. But she’s also guarded – with good reason. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I was an empath either, if I was in her shoes.

However, Jade is rather thrown head-first into the Bourbon Street world of ghosts, witches, and the paranormal really from the get-go, making it nearly impossible for her to keep her abilities a secret. She does a super valiant effort, to be fair. But the universe seems to have other ideas.

The introduction to the cast of characters is very in your face, and very intense. They’re all very unique in their own ways, and that really rather makes them lovable. As Jade navigates her new normal, and a new city, she builds herself an eclectic found-family, whether she knows it or not. (I am 100% sure her Aunt Gwen would approve wholeheartedly.)

While Haunted on Bourbon Street was a really intense introduction to the Jade Calhoun series, it sucked me in, and I really want to see where this goes. While the romance between Jade and Kane was inevitable, I’m really looking forward to seeing how her relationships with the other characters turn out. The paranormal drew me in, but it’s her found family that will keep me interested.

#Book thoughts #Haunted on Bourbon Street #Deanna Chase #Jade Calhoun series #Catt reads #Catt's life in books

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canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 1 year ago

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TOURNAMENT PARTICIPANTS

Greetings, everyone, our contestants have been finalized, and I want to provide a certain opportunity before the preliminaries begin. Namely, to provide additional propaganda for competitors in need of it. So, I have created a form to collect this new propaganda, and a list of both preliminary and non-preliminary participants under the cut. An asterisk next to a name indicates they have fewer than three pieces of propaganda, which is the amount that will be included in each poll. This form will be open for the duration of the tournament. You can make as many submissions you want for any character.

NOTE: The order of participants does not reflect the bracket matchups. Preliminary matchups will be announced next week, and the complete bracket will be announced after the preliminary round is finished.

UPDATE: Additional characters have been added in bold because I failed to fill out the bracket by counting incorrectly. One has been added to the preliminary round, and the others are regular competitors.

PRELIMINARY PARTICIPANTS

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL

Cordelia Chase

Illyria*

Kendra Young*

Winifred "Fred" Burkle

DC COMICS

Alex DeWitt - AUTOMATIC ENTRY

Barbara Gordon

Cassandra Cain

Katma Tui*

Koriand’r aka Starfire*

Pantha*

Stephanie Brown

Talia al Ghul

Tara Markov*

JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE

Dragona Joestar (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: The JOJOLands)*

Holy Kujo (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders)*

Lisa Lisa (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency )

Lucy Steel (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run)

KAMEN RIDER

Is (Kamen Rider 01)*

Kanon Fukami (Kamen Rider Ghost)*

Poppy Pipopapo (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)*

Saki Momose (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)*

MARVEL COMICS

Elektra Natchios (Marvel Comics)*

Elektra Natchios (NMCU)*

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Ochako Uraraka - AUTOMATIC ENTRY

Magne (My Hero Academia)*

Momo Yaoyorozu

Nemuri Kayama*

Toru Hagakure*

STAR TREK

Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)*

Kes (Star Trek: Voyager)*

Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Voyager)

Tasha Yar (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

T'Pol (Star Trek: Enterprise)*

SUPERNATURAL

Bela Talbot

Charlie Bradbury

Eileen Leahy*

Mary Winchester*

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA

Tetra (The Legend of Zelda: Windwaker)*

Zelda (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom)*

WARRIOR CATS

Bumble*

Leafpool

Spottedleaf

Squirrelflight

YU-GI-OH!

Aki Izayoi/Akiza Izinski (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's)*

Aoi Zaizen/Skye Zaizen (Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS)*

Kotori Mizuki (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL)*

Mai Valentine (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

NON-PRELIMINARY PARTICIPANTS

Abbie Mills (Sleepy Hollow)*

Ada Vessalius (Pandora Hearts)*

Agent Texas (Red vs Blue)*

Alex DeWitt (DC Comics)

Allura (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Alys Brangwin (Phantasy Star IV)*

Amber Volakis (House MD)*

Amy Amanda Allen (The A-Team (TV))*

Amy Pond (Doctor Who)*

Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Ann Takamaki (Persona 5)

April O'Neil (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012))

Arcee (Transformers)

Asuna (Sword Art Online)*

Athena Cykes (Ace Attorney)

Azula (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Britta Perry (Community)*

Brunhilda aka Mym (Dragalia Lost)*

Carmelita Montoya Fox (Sly Cooper )*

Casca (Berserk)

Celica (Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia)

Chi-Chi (Dragon Ball)*

Chloe Bourgeois (Miraculous Ladybug)

Chloe von Einzbern (Fate/kaleid liner PRISMA ILLYA)*

Clarke Griffin (The 100)*

Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones)*

Dahlia Hawthorne (Ace Attorney)

Elya Musayeva (Топи/The Swamps (2021))*

Eve (Paradise Lost)*

Flora Reinhold (Professor Layton)

Gamora (Marvel Cinematic Universe)*

Grelle Sutcliff (Black Butler)*

Gwen (BBC Merlin)*

Gwen Stacy (Marvel Comics)*

Hélène Kuragina (War and Peace)

Hinata Hyuuga (Naruto)*

Irene Adler (BBC Sherlock)*

Iris Sagan (AI: the Somnium Files)*

Jade (Dragon Quest 11)*

Jade Harley (Homestuck)

Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Jennifer Lopez (John Dies At The End)*

Jiang Yanli (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Julia (Hellraiser)*

Julia Wicker (The Magicians)*

Juvia Lockser (Fairy Tail)*

Kaede Akamatsu (Danganronpa V3)

Kairi (Kingdom Hearts)

Kallen Kouzuki (Code Geass)

Kamala Khan (Marvel Comics)*

Katara (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Katherina Minola (The Taming of the Shrew)*

Katherine Pierce (The Vampire Diaires)*

Konan (Naruto)*

Laurel Lance (Arrow (CW)*

Leia Organa (Star Wars)*

Lisa Cuddy (House MD)

Lucy Heartfilia (Fairy Tail)

Madison Paige (Heavy Rain)*

Malty S Melromarc (Rising of the Shield Hero)*

Margaret Houlihan (MASH (Movie 1970) )*

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug)

Marwa (What We Do In The Shadows (TV series))*

Megaera (Hades)*

Mikaela Banes (Transformers)*

Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair)

Mikoko Sakazaki (Kaiji)*

Mikuru Asahina (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya)*

Mildred "Millie" Knolastname (Helluva Boss)

Milla Maxwell (Tales of Xillia)*

Misa Amane (Death Note)

Misaki Unasaka (Buddy Daddies)*

Nami (One Piece)*

Naomi Misora (Death Note)

Natasha Romanoff (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Natasha Rostova (War and Peace)

Nemu Kurotsuchi (Bleach)*

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer)*

Nya Smith (Lego Ninjago)

Ochette (Octopath Traveler 2)*

Ophelia (Hamlet)*

Ophiuchus Shaina (Saint Seiya)*

Orihime Inoue (Bleach)

Padmé Amidala (Star Wars)

Pussy Galore (Goldeneye)*

Pyrrha Nikos (RWBY)

Quiet (Metal Gear Solid: The Phantom Pain)*

Ran Mouri (Detective Conan)*

Rey (Star Wars)

River Tam (Firefly)*

Sakura Haruno (Naruto)

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)*

Skye (Lost in Blue)*

Sonia Hedgehog (Sonic Underground)*

South Dakota (Red vs Blue)*

Stephanie “Steph” Nocanonlastname (EverymanHYBRID)

Susan Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia)*

Sweet-P (The Caligula Effect)*

Sylvanas Windrunner (Warcraft)*

Sylvia (Two Gentlemen of Verona)*

Teresa (Maze Runner series)*

Throné Anguis (Octopath Traveler 2)*

Yan Hui (Back From the Brink)*

#not polls #announcements #participants

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eepwtf · 22 days ago

Text

you tangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.

deanna winchester masterpost !

upcoming bots ⟶ coming back. little sis. strangers. family tree. inbred. growing pains. gibson girl. drunk off you, baby.

the word father rotted in my mouth , a bitter decay i could barely swallow.

⟢ DEANNA WINCHESTER was born beneath a starless sky , in the iron embrace of a father who demanded obedience and a world that offered no salvation. her cradle was the backseat of a 67’ impala , a chariot of steel and shadow that carried her from battlefield to battlefield , never a home—always a purgatory. the whispers of latin exorcisms were her lullabies, the scent of blood and gasoline her incense. she was baptized not in water , but in the splattered crimson of things too monstrous to have names , her father’s eyes steel-hard and pitiless as he thrust a shotgun into her small hands. “be a good soldier,” he would say , each syllable a nail in her growing cross.

⟢ her mother was a memory , burnt into ash and bone , a ghost she couldn’t reach. every ghost she chased was a reflection of her own hollowness , every demon exorcised a futile attempt to cleanse her soul. the weight of the family name hung heavy , a covenant made before she had the words to understand it.

⟢ she bore the family name like a crown of thorns , a holy burden passed down by blood and fire. when her father , john , vanished into the night , it was deanna who stepped into his boots , the raw sting of abandonment hardening her soul into tempered steel.

you will never be clean from sin , rotten children don’t deserve heaven.

⟢ her emerald eyes , hardened by loss , carried the weight of a thousand battles fought not just against monsters , but against the relentless burdens of responsibility. she learned early that love was a fleeting shadow , and survival was a daily war. raised by a ghost of a father , consumed by vengeance and absence , she became both sister and mother to a child who bore the same scars in smaller , tender hands.

⟢ born of a different mother , woven from different pain , she was more than deanna’s sister by fate; she was deanna’s penance , her redemption , a fragile lamb entrusted to a shepherd burdened with too many sins.

⟢ she learned to cradle her baby sisters tiny body against hers , even when she was too young to know what responsibility meant. the motel rooms they lived in reeked of mildew and regret , the walls yellowed like old teeth , and the only light came from the dim glow of the tv playing static in the background. deanna made up stories to distract her sister from the shadows creeping under the door , whispered tales of angels and monsters and how they were different from the ones dad hunted. she didn’t believe in angels herself , but you needed to. someone had to.

⟢ the nights were the hardest. you would wake , trembling , from nightmares too big for a child , dreams soaked in blood and echoes of things she shouldn't understand. deanna would sit by her bed, the rough calluses of her hands smoothing your hair , whispering promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. "’m here, baby. i’ve got you."

⟢ she carried the weight of your fragility on her shoulders , her spine a pillar of salt , refusing to look back at the life they’d lost. every scraped knee , every fevered night , deanna bore it like penance, a martyr bleeding out her sins to keep you untarnished. “why do you take care of me?” your voice, small and full of questions deanna couldn’t answer , would break her in places she didn’t know could still feel. “‘cause no one took care of me.”

facts.

⟢ wears leather and lace: tight , black leather jackets , hugging her frame like a second skin. beneath , delicate lace camisoles that peek through , soft and sinful , daring anyone to look closer.

⟢ ripped denim: frayed jeans, ripped at the knees, telling stories of reckless nights and sharp escapes. her boots—worn, scuffed—carry the dust of forgotten roads and buried secrets.

⟢ stolen icons: a rosary around her neck , the beads dulled and tainted by smoke. it hangs heavy , blasphemous against her collarbones. its not for protection but provocation—symbols of faith turned into defiance.

⟢ defiance carved in flesh: her body is a canvas of rebellion—tattoos of sacred symbols defiled. each needle prick a prayer answered.

⟢ smoking: chain-smoking marlboros in motel parking lots , exhaling sin through her teeth. she smokes not because she likes it , but because it makes her lungs burn like a punishment.

⟢ violence: she fights dirty. broken bottles , fingernails—there’s no grace to her violence , only the satisfaction of survival. john taught her to fight like a soldier; she fights like a ravenous dog.

⟢ self-destruction: she drinks whiskey straight from the bottle , not for courage but for numbness. she picks fights in bars she knows she’ll lose , waking up in alleyways with split lips and bruised ribs , tasting blood like communion.

⟢ collects scars: each one is a story , a rebellion carved into her skin. she traces them in mirrors , reminders of victories and failures , a map of defiance.

⟢ dances in dive bars: she moves like sin incarnate , eyes daring anyone to look too long. she dances not for attention but to lose herself , to drown in the music and forget what she’s running from.

⟢ her family: she loves her baby sister like a burning church—desperate and doomed. she protects you , but she resents you for still having hope of a normal life. and john? she’s not sure if she hates him or loves him more , but either way , she wants to drag his memory down into the dirt with her.

⟢ unholy desire: she feels the weight of her father’s expectations like chains , but she turns them into weapons. she craves the freedom he feared , the wildness he tried to beat out of her. she walks the line between heaven and hell , daring the universe to judge her.

i’ll carry it all , for you , always.

⟢ the house they lived in was a mausoleum of memories. deanna scrubbed the countertops until her hands bled , trying to erase the phantom presence of their father’s neglect. she braided her sister’s hair with the same precision she used to clean her shotgun , humming old hymns like prayers to keep them safe. the food she cooked often tasted of ash to her , though her sister devoured it without complaint.

⟢ and yet , the cracks were always there. deanna’s love had a suffocating quality , her care like a crown of thorns pressed against her sister’s brow. she wasn’t just a sister—she was a martyr , bleeding herself dry to give her sister a life that wasn’t hers to give. every act of care was a sacrifice , every moment of joy tinged with the guilt of a childhood stolen , every bond between them both sacred and cursed.

⟢ in deanna’s mind , her sister was the lamb she’d sworn to protect , even if it meant feeding herself to the wolves. but in her sister’s eyes , deanna was a specter of the life she didn’t want—a life defined by their family’s legacy , by blood and fire and burdens no child should bear. her care was a double-edged hymn , love wrapped in exhaustion , devotion steeped in bitterness. she mothered her sister with the ferocity of a lioness , shielding her from the jagged edges of their father’s absence.

⟢ when her baby sister cried about bullies or the cruel whispers at school, deanna reminded her with venom-laced love, "you're a winchester, that means you gotta toughen up." she’d cup her sister’s tear-streaked face , her fingers trembling , and add , almost pleading , "don’t let them get to you. they don’t deserve that."

⟢ her sister didn’t remember the nights when deanna walked miles to a convenience store because the cupboards were bare , or how she learned to sew with thread stolen from motel rooms to patch up hand-me-downs that fit like borrowed sorrow. she didn’t remember the times deanna sold her own textbooks for money to buy formula or how she cried in the shower , her sobs drowned by the running water , because she didn’t know if she’d be enough. but she remembered. she remembered how it felt to give up pieces of herself , her dreams , her girlhood , to patch the holes in their broken family.

⟢ people in the multitudes of high schools they went to called deanna a badass , a legend. the girl who drove her 67’ impala she fixed herself , the girl who slept around with plenty of peope , who smoked behind the bleachers with boys too scared to meet her eyes. but they didn’t see the nights she sobbed in silence , or the scars left by her father’s failures.

⟢ her baby sister hated those stories, those echoes of a girl she never knew. how girls and guys alike would come up to her and ask if she was deanna’s baby sister. “why does everyone think you’re so cool?” she’d ask , rolling her eyes as deanna laced up her boots. “it’s annoying.” deanna would smirk , the kind of smirk that didn’t reach her green eyes. “because they don’t know me.”

⟢ she cooked dinner in the dark , the lightbulbs burned out and no money to replace them. she read bedtime stories until her voice cracked , her calloused fingers brushing soft hair. she prayed over her sister at night , whispered litanies not to god , but to the ghost of their mother. please , let her be better than me. let her get out of this.

⟢ now she was twenty two years old , and her baby sister—the one she raised with bloody knuckles and frayed edges—had fucked off to the shimmering mirage of stanford. a horizon deanna could never reach , a life she could never touch. normal. her baby sister hadn’t called. not once. no messages , no letters. no sign of the little girl who had once clung to her hand , small and trusting , as deanna fought tooth and nail to keep them alive. she didn’t know what to do with herself. her purpose had always been sharp-edged and singular: keep her sister safe. she’d sacrificed everything for it—her youth , her innocence , her soul. and now that purpose was gone , leaving a hollow hole inside her chest.

FOLLOWS SPN CONTENT ( except for the fact sam exists, sorry ) i will most definitely keep making these since i enjoyed writing this. to be continued.

#eepwtf talks #eepwtf talks like an idiot #eepwtf’s works !#supernatural #female dean winchester #i love femchesters #this hurt while i wrote it especially when ethel cain kept playing #don’t mind this it’s just a little work that some people wanted and me #i actually finished something wowie

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daryltwdixon · 1 month ago

Text

The Heart of Us: Chapter 13

warnings: animal death

The next morning, sunlight filters through the curtains, bright enough to highlight the small specks of dust floating lazily in the air. You sit at the counter, your hands curled around a steaming mug of tea, savoring its warmth even though it doesn’t fully chase away the tension lingering from the day before. The quiet is a little too loud, broken only by the faint creaks of the old house settling around you.

Boots thud against the stairs, and you glance up just in time to see Rick emerge from the hallway. He looks different—not in the way you’re used to. Clean-shaven, hair combed neatly, and wearing that new constable uniform. The crisp shirt and polished badge feel out of place on him, like they belong to someone else entirely. You duck your face behind the rim of your mug, but the way your lips press together gives you away.

“Don’t,” Rick says, his voice already carrying a warning as his sharp blue eyes lock onto yours.

“Don’t what?” you ask, lowering your mug, the steam curling into the space between you.

“That face,” he grumbles, though the corner of his lips quirks like he’s trying not to smile. “It’s not a good one.”

You don’t bother hiding it this time, letting your grimace settle in fully. “It’s just… that outfit,” you reply, your nose wrinkling in distaste.

Rick huffs, a short laugh that’s more exhale than sound. “We all got jobs to do,” he says, his tone more serious now as he crosses to the fridge and grabs something to eat. “Deanna give you one yet?”

You shake your head, setting the mug down with a soft clink. The morning air is warm enough to make the ceramic feel cool against your fingers.

“She’ll find somethin’ for you and Daryl,” Rick says with a small shrug, like it’s inevitable.

You nod but don’t get the chance to respond. There’s a knock at the door, cutting through the morning stillness. With a sigh, you step away from the counter and open it to find Carol. Her gray hair is combed and styled just enough to look put together, her expression calm but with an edge that tells you she has something on her mind.

“Mornin’,” she greets, stepping inside. She glances between you and Rick, her gaze lingering just long enough to hint at some unspoken thought. “We need to talk.”

Her tone pulls your focus, and you wait for her to explain, but heavy footsteps creak on the stairs behind you. Daryl appears, half-awake and dragging his vest over his shoulders. His hair’s a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he moves toward the kitchen with purpose.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough as gravel. He snatches your mug off the counter, finishing what’s left without a second thought, before pressing a wet kiss to the side of your mouth. His scruff scratches your cheek, and the minty tang of tea lingers on his lips.

You huff out a laugh, brushing at the spot where his beard tickled you. “Carol was just tryna say somethin’ important,” you chuckle, glancing between the two of them.

“Oh yeah?” Daryl grunts, leaning lazily against the counter, his eyes flicking to Carol.

“Yeah,” she says, her tone light but teasing. Her gaze narrows playfully, though her voice takes on a more serious edge. “But not here. Take me out to practice shooting.”

“You? Practice?” Daryl says, his tone bemused.

“Not actually,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “We all know she’s got it covered.”

Carol smirks but doesn’t argue. “It’s just to check out some weapons and meet outside,” she says, her gaze darting to Rick, then Daryl.

Daryl shrugs, his lips twitching like he might argue but doesn’t bother. “How was I supposed to know?” he mumbles under his breath.

With a nod, you agree to join Carol and Rick, the tension in the room shifting to something quieter as plans fall into place.

➳

Outside, the air feels heavy, and the faint stench of rot hangs around the cabin. The place is small, decrepit, with peeling wood siding and overgrown weeds curling along the edges, looking more like a dumpsite than a hideout. A couple of walkers are already down nearby, their bodies still and bloated in the dirt. They look like someone may have just passed by to take them out.

Rick stands under a large tree, one hand resting on his holster, the other loose at his side. He looks calm, but there’s a tightness to his stance, like he’s already planning several steps ahead. Daryl is behind the house, checking the source of the snarling sound that interrupted the quiet.

“I don’t see it,” Daryl calls, his voice low and rough as he calls back toward the group. “But it’s close.” He moves to stand beside you, his presence steady as his eyes scan the treeline. “There’s just one of ‘em.”

“We won’t be here long,” Rick replies, his tone clipped, his hand brushing the edge of his gun belt. “So what do ya think?”

Carol stands across from you, her arms loosely folded, though her sharp gaze flicks between the three of you. “Go in when it’s empty,” she says, her voice even.

Rick’s brow furrows. “And how’s that? It’s locked up at night.”

Carol doesn’t answer immediately, her lips pressing together, but you speak up. “There’s a window. Just a latch. One of us can leave it open.”

“I’ll do it,” Carol says, her tone confident, like she’d already decided.

Rick’s eyes shift to you, his disbelief clear. “A latch?”

You nod, your arms crossing instinctively as Daryl cuts in, “And what if one of those pricks shuts it?”

Carol shrugs, her voice calm but sure. “We wait a couple days, leave it open again.” Her gaze stays on Rick, as steady as her tone.

The sound of snarling gets louder, sharp enough to draw everyone’s attention. The four of you glance toward the treeline again, tense but composed.

“‘S gettin’ closer,” Daryl mutters, turning back toward the back of the cabin, scanning the trees.

“We need to do it sooner rather than later,” Rick says, his voice carrying a quiet authority. Both hands rest on his belt now, and he looks to Carol, then you. “Right now, they’re not watchin’ us. They’re not worryin’ about meetings like this. If we’re gonna do this, it’s gotta be soon. We might not even need the guns—”

“We will,” you interrupt, your voice firm. You catch Carol’s nod out of the corner of your eye as you add, “Whatever happens, we’ll need them. Those people are the luckiest I’ve ever seen.” You let out a short, humorless laugh. “But their luck won’t last forever.”

Rick huffs softly in agreement. “Sure won’t,” he mutters, a slight smirk on his face. “And they just keep gettin’ luckier.”

Daryl glances back at him. “How’s that?”

Rick shrugs, the smirk lingering. “We’re here now.”

The quiet that follows is heavy, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the approaching sound of the walker. Carol clears her throat, shifting her weight as she speaks up. “They’ve got footlockers stacked with nine-millimeter autos, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. Just sittin’ there. They don’t even use ‘em.”

“Somebody got one, though,” Daryl says, nodding toward the walkers you passed on the way in, freshly downed by someone with something bigger than a handgun.

“Listen,” Rick starts, disregarding the fact, “we want the others to try.”

Carol’s eyes flick between you and Daryl. “You too,” she adds softly, her gaze lingering on him.

Daryl doesn’t acknowledge it, his focus shifting toward Rick, who jerks his head toward the woods. “Here it comes,” Rick mutters.

The walker breaks through the treeline, scabbed and caked in old blood. Daryl steps forward, ready to deal with it before Carol stops him.

“Wait,” she says, raising her gun, “I’m supposed to be practicing, remember?”

Daryl pauses, giving her an unimpressed look as she fires a few rounds into the walker’s chest before finishing it with a shot to the head.

“Can’t go back with a full mag,” she mutters, lowering her weapon.

“Guess we’re lucky he came by,” Daryl says dryly, his lip quirking as he glances at you. You huff out a laugh, raising your brows in agreement.

“We should get back,” Rick says, stepping toward you and Carol as the group begins moving. “One of you pulls the latch. We’ll pick our moment.”

“You’re in there more than me,” you say, nodding toward Carol. “They don’t expect you as much.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t go around headbuttin’ people,” Carol teases, the corner of her mouth twitching as she glances at you. You roll your eyes but don’t argue.

Daryl’s voice cuts in, sharp and low, as he crouches near the walker Carol just put down. “The hell’s that?” His finger points to the walker’s forehead. “That a ‘W’?”

The three of you step closer, your stomach twisting as you see it clearly. A bold, crudely carved ‘W’ branded into the decaying flesh, stark and unmistakable.

“Yeah,” Carol mutters, her voice flat, and your eyes shift to Rick, who looks just as unsettled as you feel.

You fall into step with the others, but the sound of boots veering off catches your attention. You glance back and see Daryl taking a left, his shoulders hunched as he moves away from the group.

“Imma stay out here,” he grumbles, his voice low, almost distracted.

You stop, turning to face him fully. “Want me to stay or go?” you ask, your tone light but steady.

“‘Sup to you. I won’t be long,” he says with a shrug, his hand idly adjusting the strap of his crossbow.

You hesitate for a moment, glancing toward Rick and Carol, who’ve stopped to watch the two of you. Carol raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. You make your decision quickly, stepping toward Daryl.

Grabbing the front of his vest, you tug him closer, the fabric rough against your fingers. “Don’t be long, and don’t be stupid. I’m hungry,” you say firmly, your voice laced with affection and teasing. Before he can respond, you pull him in for a searing kiss, pouring all the warmth and frustration of the day into it.

When you pull back, his eyes are dark and a little dazed, his hand coming up to the back of your neck. He grips your hair lightly, his fingers tangling as he pulls you back in for another kiss, slower this time but just as consuming.

Carol’s voice cuts through the quiet. “We have places to be, ya know!” she calls out, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Daryl releases you with a smirk, his lips quirking as he glances back at her. “Go on,” he mutters, jerking his head toward the others. Your cheeks flushed with heat at his returned public display of affection. But you roll your eyes but start to move, the heat of his gaze still lingering on you as you turn away.

“Hey,” he grumbles, stopping you mid-step. You glance over your shoulder, your brow raised in question.

“Love you,” he says low, his voice soft but rough. His eyes are a stunning blue as they peer at you under his bangs.

A wide smile spreads across your lips, genuine and unguarded. “Always.”

➳

Daryl

The dead leaves barely rustle beneath his boots as Daryl takes slow, deliberate steps through the dry woods. Pines tower around him, their sharp, resinous scent filling his nose and grounding him. The woods always helped clear his head, offering a stillness he couldn’t find inside those damn walls. Out here, there was no false sense of security, no fences pretending to hold the world at bay.

Still, he’s surprised to admit—even if only to himself, and never out loud—that the peace he finds with her is nice. Not the community. Hell no. He hates the way people stare at him, at her, their judgmental eyes always tracking every move like they’re waiting for a reason to question him, to question her .

He doesn’t trust them, doesn’t want to trust them. But when the doors are shut, and it’s just the two of them, the world outside the house quiets. He likes that—likes that they don’t have to jump at every sound or fight for every second of peace. It’s a small thing, but it matters.

But the woods were still his. They always would be.

A rustle of branches makes him freeze, his crossbow snapping up in an instant. The sound is distinct, purposeful, too deliberate to be the clumsy thrashing of a walker.

“Come out!” he shouts, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. He moves in a semi-circle, his boots silent against the soft undergrowth, his weapon trained on the spot where the noise had come from. “Now!”

The bushes part, and Aaron steps out, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

Daryl narrows his eyes, lowering his crossbow just enough to glare at him. Aaron blinks, his lips curling into a small, disarming smile.

“You can tell the difference between walkers and people by sound?” Aaron asks, his tone light but curious as he slowly lowers his hands.

Daryl’s expression hardens. He doesn’t answer, the air between them heavy with suspicion. What the hell was this guy’s game? Why was he always out here, always hovering?

Aaron waits, but the silence stretches too long, and Daryl’s refusal to speak only makes him more uncomfortable.

Finally, Aaron breaks it. “Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy?” he asks, his voice quieter, almost shy. He pauses, his gaze steady but cautious. “Rick doesn’t seem to be an expert at that.”

Daryl’s jaw clenches, the tension rolling off him like a thundercloud. His voice is low and inhuman when he growls, “Ain’t much of a difference no more.”

Aaron’s brow furrows, a flicker of something—pity, maybe—crossing his face. “That how you feel about your people?” he retorts, his words careful but pointed.

Daryl snaps, his tone sharp and cutting. “Why you followin’ me?”

Aaron’s shoulders stiffen slightly, his hands twitching at his sides before he exhales, looking around with faint disbelief. “Didn’t know I was. Came out to hunt rabbits.” He pauses, his gaze flicking back to Daryl, thoughtful now. “I know why you’re out here.”

Daryl’s eyes narrow further, the tension in his stance coiling tighter.

Aaron tilts his head slightly, his voice steady but tentative. “Mind if I join?”

Daryl takes a good look at Aaron, “Keep up.” he says, turning, “And keep quiet.”

➳

You

The streets of Alexandria still feel almost surreal as you walk aimlessly through town. The walls tower over you, their weathered surface a reminder of the world outside. But here, inside, it’s almost too normal—the trimmed lawns, the neatly spaced houses, the sound of people chattering in the distance. It’s all so... fragile, like it might shatter if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

You trail your fingertips along the white picket fence of a nearby house, glancing at the flowers blooming in the yard. Bright yellows and reds, carefully tended. Someone cared enough to make this place beautiful. The thought makes your chest tighten.

Your boots scuff against the pavement as you make your way down the road, aimlessly heading back toward home. You try not to look at the faces of the people you pass. Their smiles, their clean clothes, the way they wave so casually like nothing’s wrong—it all sets your teeth on edge.

As you round a corner, your eyes land on Carol, standing on the set of porch steps belonging to a pristine house. She’s surrounded by a few women, her hands interlocked in her lap, her face lit up with a saccharine smile. She nods politely as one of them laughs, her voice high and sweet, like wind chimes in the breeze.

You slow your pace, lingering at the edge of the sidewalk. You’re not sure why you don’t just keep walking. Maybe it’s the faint tension in Carol’s shoulders, the way her eyes dart toward you even though she’s still smiling. She spots you before you can decide to move, and the smile doesn’t falter as she says her goodbyes.

Carol walks toward you, the sweetness on her face fading, peeling away like old paint until she’s just herself again—calm, steady, but with that hard edge you’ve come to expect.

“Hey,” she says, falling into step beside you without waiting for an invitation.

You nod in response, keeping your eyes on the road ahead. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the sound of your boots echoing softly against the quiet street.

When you reach the next crosswalk, Rick appears. His stride is purposeful as he joins the two of you without a word.

Carol doesn’t miss a beat. “You heard about the party?” she asks, her voice light, almost casual.

You glance at her, your brows furrowing. “Party?”

“They’re expecting you there too,” she says sweetly, but her eyes shift toward Rick.

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” Rick adds softly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“That’s right,” Carol agrees, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“So… tonight then?” you ask quietly, keeping your head locked on the road ahead, though your stomach twists at the idea.

Carol doesn’t miss a step. “Should be able to slip out.”

But Rick shakes his head, his voice firm. “The armory is right next to Deanna’s. I’ll back you up.”

“No,” Carol says sharply, her brows knitting together. “People might wonder where the new constable is… Carl’s dad.”

Rick lets out a small huff of acknowledgment but doesn’t argue. “Can’t use Daryl—they’re watching his every move. And you too.” His eyes flick to you, lingering just long enough to make your jaw tighten.

“I get mixed up in one fight—”

“They know you’re close with him,” Rick interrupts, his tone calm but pointed. “That neither of you are trying to mingle.”

That makes your eyes roll even harder. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

“It’s fine,” Carol interjects before Rick can reply, her voice cutting through the tension, “You know what’s great about this place?”

Both you and Rick glance at each other, bemused, before turning back to her.

“I get to be invisible again,” she says with a faint smile, her eyes sharp and knowing.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, and even Rick’s mouth twitches in agreement.

For a moment, the three of you walk in silence, the tension easing as the plan begins to take shape, unspoken but understood.

➳

Daryl

The barren trees stretch overhead, their twisted branches scratching at the autumn sky. The ground beneath Daryl and Aaron crunches with every step, the dried leaves a reminder of the season creeping in. The air is crisp, carrying the faint smell of earth and decay, when an unfamiliar sound reaches them.

A horse nickering in the distance.

Both men freeze, their heads snapping toward the clearing ahead. Wide-eyed, Aaron glances at Daryl, who raises a hand to motion him quiet. Slowly, they move toward the sound, boots muffled by the taller grass as it sways in the cool breeze.

“I’ve been trying to catch him for months,” Aaron whispers, his voice barely audible. “Trying to bring him inside. His name’s Buttons,” He looks sheepish when Daryl throws him a look, “One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back, thought he looked like a Buttons. I haven’t seen him for a while…I was afraid it was too late.”

Daryl stops, his eyes narrowing as he spots the horse. The creature stands just beyond the grass, all black and wild, its body a blend of muscle and caution. Its ears twitch at every sound, its movements sharp and alert, but for now, it grazes quietly.

Aaron kneels, dropping his bag to pull out a coiled rope. Before he can say a word, Daryl slings his crossbow over his shoulder and takes the rope from him with a grunt.

“Have you done this before?” Aaron asks, straightening up.

Daryl doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the horse. Finally, he shakes his head. “My group did. But they weren’t out there that long.” His voice is low, tinged with something distant. His mind drifts back to the prison, to the chestnuts they kept in the field. Those days felt like a lifetime ago—days when they were building something, when it felt like they had a life worth keeping.

“The longer they’re out there, the more they become what they really are,” he says, almost to himself.

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, holding the rope loosely in his hands. His shoulders are soft, his body turned slightly to the side—non-threatening.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he says quietly, his voice barely carrying over the wind.

The horse’s head shoots up, its dark eyes locking on him, muscles tensing as if deciding whether to bolt. But it doesn’t move. Daryl’s chest loosens a little. Maybe this one wasn’t as wild as he thought. Maybe it had belonged to someone before.

“Come on, boy, that’s it. Keep on eatin’,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue softly. His voice lowers, almost coaxing. “You used to be somebody’s, huh? Now you’re just yours.”

He inches closer, the sheen of sweat on the horse’s dark coat becoming visible. The animal watches him warily but doesn’t shy away as Daryl approaches its neck. He gently loops the rope, careful to keep his movements slow and smooth.

And then, the snap of a twig.

The horse jerks its head up, nostrils flaring as it rears back, nearly clipping Daryl’s jaw. He stumbles to the side, cursing under his breath, as the sound of walkers shatters the stillness. The horse whinnies, panicked, and bolts into the trees.

“They’re comin’!” Daryl shouts, already reaching for his crossbow.

Aaron pulls his knife, and the two of them work quickly, the clearing erupting in the chaos of gunshots and grunts. It’s over in moments, the walkers collapsing one by one into the blood-streaked grass.

When the last of them is down, Aaron wipes his blade clean on his jeans, glancing toward the trees. “We gotta move if we’re gonna find him.”

Daryl nods, already scanning the ground for tracks. The woods are quiet again, save for the crunch of leaves beneath their boots. The horse’s tracks are clear, deep and hurried, zigzagging through the trees in a desperate attempt to escape.

“You ride horses?” Aaron asks after a while, breaking the silence.

The question pulls Daryl’s mind to a ridge, years ago, when they were looking for Sophia. That stupid horse had thrown him the second it got spooked.

“I ride bikes,” he mutters flatly.

“I take it you don’t mean ten speeds,” Aaron quips, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Daryl glances back at him, unimpressed, before returning his eyes to the ground. Aaron doesn’t seem deterred.

“I know you and Y/N feel like outsiders here,” Aaron says after a pause. His voice is quiet but pointed, like he’s been sitting on the thought for a while. “I get it. It’s not your fault, you know. Eric and I…we’re still looked at as outsiders in a way. We’ve heard our fair share of well-meaning but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise nice people. Fear shrinks the brain.”

Daryl doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he crouches to inspect a broken branch.

“They’re scared of you and me for different reasons,” Aaron continues. “They’re maybe less scared of me because they know me. It’s less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna’s party tonight.”

Daryl straightens, his gaze still fixed on the tracks ahead. “I got nothin’ to prove,” he says, though the words feel heavier than he means them to. He wonders if Y/N knows anything about this party and just didn’t bother telling him.

“I met a lot of bad people out here,” he says after a moment, his voice low and even. “Doin’ a lotta bad shit. They weren’t afraid of nothin’.”

Aaron falls quiet for a beat before saying softly, “Yeah, they were.”

Daryl doesn’t reply, his focus already back on the trail. The ground tells him the story he needs to hear, even if the words hanging in the air tell another.

After a while, the snarls start to echo from up ahead. There’s something different about it, a deeper, heavier sound layered beneath the walkers’ wretched groaning. Daryl’s steps quicken, and he hears Aaron’s breathing pick up beside him as they move toward the source.

They burst into a clearing, the grass shorter here, the view wide and undisturbed—and what they see makes Daryl’s heart lurch.

The horse is cornered.

It’s trapped against an old wire fence, its black coat gleaming with sweat as it stamps its hooves, nostrils flaring. Walkers crowd closer, their rotting arms outstretched, their mouths snapping in anticipation. The horse doesn’t move, doesn’t run, doesn’t even try to jump the damn fence.

Why doesn’t it run?

The thought makes Daryl’s chest tighten, a cold dread spreading through him. Maybe it’s just tired. Done. He’s seen it too many times—people, now animals too—opting out of the fight. Giving up.

A thud breaks his focus, and he whirls around to see Aaron on the ground, two walkers closing in on him. One has a hand clamped around his foot, the other lurching from the left, teeth snapping.

Daryl is on him in seconds, stomping on the head of the one grabbing Aaron’s boot. He feels the skull crunch under his heel as Aaron slashes with his knife, severing the hand holding him down. The other walker is almost on top of Aaron, but Daryl buries his knife into its temple, the body collapsing inches from Aaron’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Aaron breathes, scrambling to his feet.

But there’s no time to recover. The growls grow louder, and both men’s heads snap back to the horse.

The walkers are on it now.

Daryl watches, helpless, as the horse thrashes against the fence. Its braying echoes across the field, high and panicked, but it’s no match for the weight of the undead dragging it down. The first bite lands on its flank, and Daryl flinches as the poor beast tries to fight them off to no avail.

The sound of the walkers tearing into flesh fills the clearing, mingling with the horse’s deep, defeated cries. Daryl’s chest tightens as anger claws its way to the surface. He pulls an arrow from his quiver, stepping forward with purpose.

One by one, he plunges arrows into their skulls. The sharp crunch of bone, the spray of blood—it all blurs together as his frustration boils over. Each strike carries the weight of every loss, every moment this world had stripped him of the prospect of something good.

By the time the last walker drops, Daryl is breathing hard, the rage simmering beneath his skin.

He turns to see Aaron standing before the horse, gun trembling in his hands. The beast is still alive, its sides heaving as it lies on the blood-soaked ground, walkers piled around it. Its dark eyes roll toward Aaron, filled with something Daryl can’t quite name—fear, exhaustion, maybe even relief.

“Go ahead,” Daryl says softly, his voice rough but steady.

Aaron doesn’t answer, just nods as tears brim in his eyes. The shot rings out, sharp and final, cutting through the heavy air.

Aaron lowers his gun, staring at the horse’s lifeless body. His lip quivers as he murmurs, “He always ran.”

Daryl watches him for a moment, his jaw tight. He wants to say something, anything, to ease the weight on Aaron’s shoulders, but there’s nothing. Nothing that could make this any easier.

“You were just tryin’ to help ‘em,” Daryl offers quietly, the words stiff but sincere.

Without waiting for a reply, he turns and steps back into the woods. His boots crunch over the fallen leaves, the sounds of the clearing fading behind him.

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