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itsgrimeytime · 11 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 · 6 months ago

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MYSTERY ID PACK

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#pupsmail︰id packs #id pack #npt #nput #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #neopronouns #emojiself #nounself

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changingplumbob · 12 days ago

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Introductions: Cassiel - Part 3

Deanna:How are you feeling about this whole situation? Like what are you thinking about being in the villa with other contestants?

Cassiel: A bit overwhelmed not gonna lie. Too many people in one place can get one overthinking a little bit but it's also fun to see just how little people care about silly little mishaps

Deanna: True. Although if you have a mishap in front of my younger sister she'll never let you forget it

Cassiel: Really?

Deanna: Yeah, she's got a memory like an elephant

Deanna: Have you brought any keepsakes from home?

Cassiel: Just my incredible cooking abilities

Deanna: That's so exciting! I wish you had time to cook in the first round

Cassiel: Then I guess I'll just have to stay longer than the first round to dazzle you

Deanna: Is that so?

Joey: How do you think that went?

Cassiel: Pretty good! I feel like I built up some solid friendship

Joey: Grazie for chatting, see you at the sorting ceremony

...

Devin: Okay De, how was that?

Deanna: A bit strange. I mean mainly she gives off this carefree no-nonsense personality but from time to time when she talked about cooking for example she seemed a bit pretentious. I guess you need to have self confidence to chase the big dreams though, I like her

See you tomorrow where we will meet our next contestant Apolline.

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #DatingDeanna #DatingDeannaRound0

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daryltwdixon · 3 months ago

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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.

#the heart of us #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfic

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year ago

Text

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

after - part thirty-three

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

jackson holds more than a few familiar faces.

a/n: these few chapters are so satisfying to me cuz it’s more my own creation that straight outta the show and i hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏻

word count: 7.4k

warnings: nothing crazy, y’all know the drill by now

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The last time you saw Nick Cowan, Joel had just put a bullet in his shoulder, and he’d nearly put a bullet in Joel’s head. Then you’d picked up the gun Joel had dropped and pointed it right back at the then-FEDRA soldier, your…whatever he once was.

The last thing you said to him rings clear as day in your mind: “Guess I’m just as terrible as you thought.”

He looks…old. It suits him. It’s the eyes that give him away, that signature stare you had once grown so used to. Now, they pin you in place, and you have no choice but to stare right back, taking in the thick beard along his jaw, the scar across his nose, his hair greying and pushed back over his head. He’s bigger than you remember, all broad shoulders towering over you as he gets closer to you, closing the distance, making your brain run a marathon trying to make sense of it.

He’s here. He’s alive.

“Liv?” he croaks out, his voice snapping on your name. His eyes are glassy, those stupidly long lashes you were always silently envious of clumping together. “Is it really…is it really you?”

Nick Cowan opens his arms to you, his boots crunching in the snow beneath your feet. He goes to hug you, saying your name again, shock and happiness on his face.

And you fucking deck him.

You’re pure adrenaline, and you hear the crunch of your knuckles hitting his face more than you feel it. It’s like every eye in the street turns to you as it happens, and Cowan reels backward, spitting blood into the snow and cupping his face. Your hand explodes with pain as you fall back a step, cradling your hand against your chest, and Joel materializes at your side, curling a hand around your elbow.

“Okay,” Cowan grunts, spitting again. “I probably deserved that.”

“Probably?” you nearly shout, stepping forward, but Joel tightens his hold and hauls you back. “It’s okay.”

You wrestle yourself out of Joel’s grip and close the distance between you and Nick. But this time, you hug him. You grab his forearm and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. It’s a moment before he returns it, a low chuckle reaching your ears. There are more tears on your face, and god fucking damn it, your hand hurts something fierce, but then you feel something connect with your shin and a tiny voice shouts, “Get your hands off my daddy!”

Nick steps back, releasing you, and you look down to see a little girl, no older than five or six, pulling back to kick you in the shin again. She’s cute, all bright blue eyes and blonde braids and her cheeks flushed with cold. “Deanna, stop it,” Nick chides, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. She goes willingly, giving you the best evil eye you’ve received from someone so young, and it makes you laugh.

You’re still reeling, your aching heart barely able to process. Tommy? Cowan? Alive and well, all this time. It’s almost too much, and then—

“Deanna, come back here!” an unfamiliar voice calls, and you look in its direction to see a young man making his way through the crowd to where you’re stood.

And your heart sinks into your toes.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Cowan, reaching into his pocket and producing an inhaler. “She just ran off before I could…” He trails off, and his eyes move to you. “Liv?”

The image of the little boy in your mind is instantly replaced with the older version standing before you. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Cowan, the mop of dark curls now cropped closer to his head, short enough that you can see the scar on his forehead. The memory jars you. He was so little, chasing Emily around the food court, and you’d heard him yelp as he fell. A few minutes later, his dad was carrying him into the medic area where you were working with Deanna. Poor kid cracked his head open and was sniffling around the wad of napkins his dad had pressed to his bleeding forehead.

You’d taken over, carried him over to one of the cots and found a wad of gauze that would soak up the blood a bit better. Henry was all sniffles and big round eyes, staring up at you as you dabbed at his wound. You distracted him, talking about anything and everything while you cleaned it and found him a bandage and told him he was brave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it had left a thin line above his eyebrow, one you could only really see when the light caught the right way.

“Henry,” you breathe out, and a moment later, he’s in your arms. Despite the height he now has on you, he’s that ten-year-old kid again, hugging you tightly. The kid that groaned about math but still did every piece of homework, that sat vigil at your bedside after you got the shit kicked out of you in lockup, that sweet-talked Joel into a game of Monopoly the first time they met.

Maybe not your son by blood, but the closest thing you know you’ll ever come to one.

And he’s alive.

But then the mood sours, all in an instant.

“You told us she was dead!” Henry shouts, still clinging to you, but pulling away to spit the words at Cowan. There are tears on his face, making his cheeks ruddy, and you can hear the way his chest wheezes. “All these years, you told us she was gone! You fucking liar!”

You can see the hurt on Nick’s face, the way he flinches back. The little girl — Deanna — hides her face in Nick’s neck, putting her arms around him. A blonde woman appears at his side, puts a hand on Deanna’s back and murmurs something to Nick that you don’t hear over Henry shouting.

“I fucking hate you! You’re a goddamn liar! She was our family!”

“Henry, stop,” you say softly, trying to placate him. “It’s okay, it’s not—”

He wrenches out of your arms and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Nick to watch him go. Nick hands Deanna off to the blonde and she gives you what you think is a sympathetic smile before also walking away.

“I never meant for it to work out this way,” Nick says, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part wants to deck him again. “They were just kids when we…” He shakes his head. “Deanna and I agreed, it was better that way. That maybe it would stop them from wanting to go back to Boston if they didn’t think you were still there.”

You feel a presence behind you — Joel. His hand rests at the small of your back and you swipe tears from your cheeks. “Well, I was still there, Nick. Wondering this entire time if you were all alive or not. You couldn’t have had the decency to at least let us know you were okay?” Your voice cracks on the question and Joel puts his arm around your waist now, tugging you against him. You’re grateful; it’s the only thing stopping you from punching Nick again.

“Everything I did was to protect them,” Nick says, staring down at his boots. You got him good; his jaw is an angry shade of red, and there’s a spot of red on his bottom lip. “You know exactly why I did what I did.”

Joel bristles, angling himself in front of you, raising a hand. “Can we not do that right now?” he grits out. “There’s a lot going on right this second; we all need to calm the fuck down and you need to watch your mouth.”

Nick doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, but then his eyes flick back to you. “I’m sorry, really, I am. Tommy knows which house is ours, if you want to talk more.”

He turns on his heel, but you stop him. “Nick.” He swivels back to you slowly, his hands dug in his pockets. “I’m assuming the little Deanna is named after the one that took care of us back in Boston.”

“She is,” he nods. “Dee passed five years ago.” But then he stops, and you know the next thing out of his mouth might crush you. “The same flu that took Emily. They’re buried together; I can show you where, if you like. That’s probably where Henry took off to.”

You inhale sharply, stumbling back a step, but Joel doesn’t let you go far. Tommy’s on your other side now, Ellie a half-step behind him, and the woman who had told you to come to Jackson breaks the silence that settles as you watch Nick walk away.

“Why don’t we get you all something to eat?”

You’re all quiet, the only sound at the table is the clatter of cutlery hitting plates. Joel can barely remember the last time he ate off a real plate, let alone sat at a table while he had a meal. It must have been back in Boston, he thinks, back before…

He glances at you between bites. You’re picking at your food, your shoulders hunched around your ears, eyes downcast. Worry knots Joel’s stomach, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. “Liv, honey, eat,” he says, nodding across the table where you’re sat beside Tommy. “Please.”

You just nod, lifting your glass of water and taking a sip.

Beside him, Ellie is wolfing down her food, scraping the plate, eyes glued to the meal like someone might try and take it away from her. “There’s more if you need it,” Maria — the woman who’d brought you here — says from her seat at the head of the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says with a slight nod, pausing his own eating. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie quips, taking another bite. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

“Ellie,” you chide, your eyes widening for a second and Joel’s eyes dart between you.

“Sorry,” he says to Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

Tommy gives Joel a small smile and lifts his hand, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You offer a half-smile in return, reaching up and squeezing his fingers.

Ellie’s attention is dragged across the large room, and her almost menacing, “What?” makes you both flinch.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” you groan, rubbing your hand across your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asks, his eyes darting to the girl who’d been hiding behind a pillar, watching your table.

“What about her manners?” Ellie calls, loud enough for the girl to hear, and you sigh heavily.

“She was just curious,” Maria supplies, her tone placating. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” Ellie says with a tight nod. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them.” She glances at Tommy, at you beside him, and then her eyes move back to Maria. “And I want my gun back.”

They’d taken your weapons before you got on the horses, and the other riders had whistled at your barb-wired bat. Joel didn’t doubt you’d get them back, but now isn’t the time or place.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria replies.

“We don’t need to be,” you add, earning an open-mouthed look from Ellie. “Not in here.”

An awkward silence settles for a moment while Ellie cleans her plate, and Joel’s worry subsides some when he sees you take a few more bites.

“Y’know what,” Tommy starts, glancing between you all, “I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie almost sneers, and your eyes dart to Joel before you reach across the table, just laying your fist on the tabletop.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. It’s all bark, we’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there.”

“Ellie!” Joel grits, and you put your face in your hands.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” she continues, ignoring both of you.

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria responds easily, barely fazed.

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Tommy says, and Joel sees the recognition on your face as you drop your hands, squaring your shoulders slightly.

“Not always, at least,” Maria says. Her eyes linger on Joel as she says it, and it makes him bristle. He sees your face pinch from the corner of his eye and you lean up, straightening, laying both elbows on the table.

He can see you holding yourself back, wanting to jump on the defence. So he tries to change the subject. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he lays down his fork and looks to his brother, “but it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

You inhale sharply, reaching for your water glass again.

Tommy pauses, balks, before, “Well, um.” He reaches a hand out and Maria takes it, a small smile on her face. “Maria is family, actually.”

Your water glass rattles as you set it back down. “Oh shit!” Ellie says, her tone suddenly lighter. “Congrats.”

Joel doesn’t have words, barely registering you putting your hand on Tommy’s arm and murmuring, “That’s great.”

“Joel,” Ellie calls softly, snapping him out of it, “say congrats.”

“Congrats,” he repeats drily.

The silence that settles after is so awkward Joel wants to crawl out of his own skin, but his brother breaks it. “How about a tour?”

You nearly jump into action, collecting the dishes and cutlery and stacking them together, waving Maria off when she tells you to leave them. Joel makes his way around the table to your side, helps you into your coat. You mumble a thank you, give him a tight smile when he finds your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Maria leads you out of the mess hall and back onto the street. The air is so bitingly cold, such a stark difference from the warmth inside, that Joel flinches, and you tuck yourself against his side, ducking under his arm.

“We settled here about seven years ago,” Maria tells you as you start walking, her voice loud over the noise of the street. “Just a handful of us back then.” She points to one part of the wall. “That section was already a gated community so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.”

“And you said Infected?” Joel asks, rubbing his hand over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, “but usually smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope, sub-MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from a half mile out.” Joel smirks; his brother, forever the gun nerd.

It gets Ellie’s attention. “Can you teach me how?”

“No, he can’t,” Joel says immediately. He’s half-expecting you to interject, but you don’t say a word. “How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully,” Maria responds. “Being in the middle of nowhere helps, not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.”

That makes Joel stop, and you do too, your hand curling into a fist at his hip as Tommy shoots him a look.

“House of worship,” Maria continues, either unfazed or unaware of the silent exchange as she points out buildings, “multi-faith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

Joel’s gaze drifts up, to the power lines linked along the street. “And you draw power from the dam?”

“Got that working a couple of years ago,” she says with a nod. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights.”

Ellie shakes her head, glancing around. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

You keep walking, eventually coming to an area that looks like a makeshift farm. A herd of sheep runs past as you all step through the fence, bleating as they go.

“Hey, Joel,” Ellie calls, beaming, “check it! Baa!”

You both laugh, and Joel squeezes your shoulder.

“So, are you like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria, clearly starting to get over her earlier…ferocity.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answers. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repair, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” Tommy chimes in, “greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, communism,” you pipe up, leaning around Joel to look at Tommy.

Tommy’s expression is pure confusion as he shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

“It is that,” Marie corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy stops in his tracks, clearly shocked at this revelation, and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he walks past his brother. The conversation trails off as you come up to a row of stables, and Ellie is instantly taken by a young foal poking its head out of the half door.

“Well, I’m sure they’d all like a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, looking at Tommy. “We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.”

You blow out a breath, turning to steam in the cold air. Joel can hear the words on the tip of your tongue before Ellie interjects, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

It bothers him more than it should. She looks back at the two of you with a grin on her face that quickly disappears. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

“Joel,” you say quietly, turning your body against his.

Marie doesn’t miss the exchange and looks at you. “Well, I can take Liv and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She pauses. “Unless, you—”

“No, let the brothers do their thing,” you say with a nod, peeling away from Joel’s side. He wants to pull you back the second you’re gone, but he stops himself. “I have a few…unfinished conversations of my own to take care of.”

Maria nods. “I can show you where the Cowans live; it’s not far from our place.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, watching as you walk over to where Ellie’s standing, reaching up and petting the foal’s nose. Ellie seems to relax further when you touch her shoulder. “Okay.”

“We’ll be fine,” you tell Joel, and he’s not quite sure who you’re trying to convince, you or him.

Tommy starts to lead him away, and Joel gives you one last glance before following his brother away from the stables.

Standing on the front porch of what Maria has told you is the Cowans’ home, you feel nervous, of all things. Your fury has subsided some, turned instead to a quiet ache that lingers in your chest, makes your heart rate rise when you let your mind wander. You feed yourself the facts instead, still trying to make sense of it all.

Nick is alive. Tommy is alive. Henry is alive.

Deanna is dead. Emily is dead.

Somehow, the confirmation makes it easier. You can’t even begin to add up all the time you’ve spent wondering over the years, when Nick first took them away, when Tommy left with the Fireflies. The wondering always made it worse. It was the same when the outbreak first hit, stuck in Boston, not knowing who lived or died. It was Nick that gave you the closure that your parents were gone. Then Joel’s panicked admission that Anna had lived through being bitten, but then FEDRA carted her off, never to be seen again.

That’s one bit of closure you still don’t have.

My parents are dead. Bill and Frank are dead. Sarah is dead. Anna is…dead.

You suck in a shaky breath, the iciness of it chilling you from the inside out as you lift your hand and knock twice.

It’s a few moments before the door swings inward, revealing the blonde woman who had stood beside Nick earlier in the street. “Oh,” she says, her voice bordering between overly bright and cautious, “it’s you.”

“Olivia,” you offer, extending your hand, “but call me Liv.”

“Sloane,” she responds, taking it. “Nick’s upstairs. D’you wanna come in?”

You stall, thrown off by her invitation. “Oh, uh, sure.”

Sloane steps aside to let you in and you step over the threshold, immediately soaking in the warmth that greets you. “This must all be very…strange for you.”

You lift your brows, glancing around the house as she shuts the door behind her. It’s quaint, with a Christmas tree in one corner of the living room that you can see, a kitchen to the other side. You can see little Deanna perched at the table, crayons in hand, and it’s so reminiscent of Emily, of your life back in Boston, that you nearly turn on your heel and dart back into the cold.

Your face must give you away, and Sloane seems to think she caused it. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you cut her off, waving a hand. “Strange is probably the nicest way to put it.” You try to laugh, try to make the atmosphere a little lighter, but the sound twists in your throat. “I’m the one who should be sorry; I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.”

She gives you a small smile. “I invited you in, Liv. It’s okay, really. Nick told me a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” you say, returning the grin while inwardly praying he left out some of your…finer details. “Although, there’s not a lot of good stuff, which I’m sure you know.”

“We do what we have to,” she replies, lifting her shoulder, and you balk. “It all happens the way it does for a reason. If you’d stayed together, he wouldn’t be here.” She pauses, looks over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “And I wouldn’t have that beautiful little girl.”

Tears spring in your eyes and you blink furiously while she’s not looking, willing them away.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” she says, turning back to you. “Nick said she kicked you in the shins after…”

“…after you clocked me in the jaw,” Nick finishes, coming down the stairs, sporting the starting of a bruise along his beard. “Glad I only ever taught you to shoot. If I’d taught you how to punch, I’d probably still be unconscious in the street.” You open your mouth to say something, but you’re caught off guard as Nick leans over the stair rail to kiss Sloane hello, which she returns with a grin.

He looks so…at ease. Jealousy sparks in your gut something fierce. Not that he’s kissing her and not you — that ship sailed many moons ago. But seeing them here, in their home, with their daughter. It’s a postcard reminder of all the things you and Joel don’t have. Have never had. May not ever have.

“Nick, can we talk?” you ask, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “Please? I promise not to clock you again.”

He barks a laugh, reaching for his coat on a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”

Sloane kisses him again before he leaves, leading you out the door and back into the cold. You fall into step easily, heading deeper into Jackson, past more houses and people. It looks almost like a real neighbourhood, kids building snowmen in their front yards, Christmas trees glittering in windows. You’re both quiet, but Nick’s the one that breaks the silence.

“Go ahead and ask, Liv,” he says, digging his hands in his pockets while you toy with your own. “I can hear the wheels in your head going from here.”

“Maria said this settlement has been here seven years,” you start, his words all the confirmation you need to start asking for the answers you need, “but you left Boston what, fourteen years ago? What did you do between Boston and here?”

He sighs, his breath turning to a cloud of steam in the air. “Whatever I had to. I only got us out of the QZ by asking for a transfer, and we barely survived the trek to Chicago with FEDRA on our side. But we were there almost five years.” He gestures to the left when the sidewalk splits, and you follow his direction. “After Chicago went to shit, we did whatever we could. Lots of sleeping on the road, hiding in abandoned buildings. The kids hated it, Deanna even more so, but there were more of us then, some people she’d befriended in Chicago, a few other soldiers who’d grown tired of the bullshit, like me. Sloane was one of them.”

“She was FEDRA?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “I think she’s the only person who’s given me more of a run for my money than you did.”

“Nick—”

“I don’t blame you for doing what you did,” he says, staring at his boots as you keep walking. The sidewalk splits again and this time, you go right. The houses are further apart here, a small copse of trees coming into view at the end of the street. “Or Joel. He was just trying to protect you, and I’m sorry for what I—”

“You shot him in the head, Nick,” you say, bristling. “You can’t just apologize for that and make it all go away. You could have killed him. His hearing hasn’t been the same since it happened.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at you, wide-eyed. “What?”

“You heard me,” you tell him, defiant only to cover up the way your bottom lip is wobbling. “And then you tell Henry and Emily that I’m dead?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” he shoots back and starts walking again. You inhale sharply and follow. “Henry was so mad when we left. He kept asking where you were, if you were gonna meet us in Chicago, over and over. It just seemed…easier. And how in the hell was I supposed to know that you’d show up here one day and prove me wrong?”

“You could have sent a message,” you say, your chest growing tight, “when you got to Chicago. Or when you got here. Never mind, I should give Tommy a fucking earful for not telling me you’ve been here this whole time.”

“I asked him not to,” he admits, and your brows shoot up. “Yes, I lied, okay, Liv? I’m a terrible fucking person. But you were just as bad as I was. You put that entire QZ at risk coming back when you did, and I—”

“Stop it,” you grit, lifting a hand, shocked when he cuts himself short. “Never in a million years would I have come back if I wasn’t sure. I made Joel promise to put me down if I so much as twitched. I made him swear to put a bullet in my head and leave me there, then go back to the QZ and tell everyone how fucking sorry I was.”

You’ve reached the end of the street, the edge of the small forest, and Nick keeps moving forward, stepping onto the snow. You follow, grinding your teeth together as you go.

You walk in silence for some time, Nick stepping quickly, a few feet in front of you, and you keep your distance, unsure if you can handle the rest of this conversation.

The clearing comes into view after a bit of walking, and Nick moves to the side, revealing a graveyard of sorts, a few rows of grave markers dusted with snow. They’re simple markers, wooden crosses driven into the earth, names scrawled across them, painted on a few. One of the graves is fresh.

Seeing Deanna’s name feels like a punch to the gut, but Emily’s hits twice as hard. You drop to your knees in the snow, reaching out and brushing your hand over the cross, the wreath of flowers that sits atop it. “Sloane does that,” Nick tells you, his voice hushed. “She’s got a whole garden in our backyard just to bring the flowers here. Grows them inside in the winter. She loved Emily.”

Your tears flow freely, dripping off your chin and hitting the snow. “It was a flu?”

“Yes,” he answers, crouching down beside you. “Five years ago, now. We’d been here six months, and things felt good, but then the kids started getting sick, a lot of them. Henry got it too, and I thought he’d go before Emily, with his lungs being so awful, but he didn’t. A few other kids passed, and Deanna was so hellbent on helping as many as she could, swearing up and down that she wouldn’t catch it.” His voice snaps and he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Despite it all, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. “You and I both know that’s not a battle you would have won, Nick.”

“I know,” he answers, his eyes glassy as he covers your hand with his. “And I know that I can’t just apologize and make it all go away, Liv, but for whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry.”

“I am, too,” you reply, squeezing his arm, “for whatever it’s worth.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “This is all so fucked up, but it is good to see you.”

Slowly, you both get to your feet. Your knees are shaky and you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from Deanna and Emily’s grave. After a moment, Nick loops his arm around your shoulders and tugs you against him. You let it happen, glad for his warmth, and lean your head against him.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

Nick walks you back to town, points you in the direction of what you learn is Tommy’s bar. The snow crunches under your feet, and as you cross the road, you feel lighter than you have in a long time. Your heart aches, but you can make peace with the loss of Deanna, and to a lesser extent, Emily. There’s no denying the grief that has you by the collar, but knowing they didn’t turn, that they weren’t torn to shreds, that they didn’t die like…that. It brings you some strange sense of peace.

You catch sight of Joel walking out of the bar as you get close, and you can tell he doesn’t notice you standing there. There’s a faraway look on his face that makes your gut twist with unease, the Christmassy atmosphere around you doing little to distract you.

He pulls his coat on and you watch him step down onto the sidewalk, feet carrying him towards the nearest lamppost. He leans heavily against it, one hand lifting to press against his chest, the other curling around the post, and you surge forward, calling his name.

“I’m fine,” he spits at you when you get close, his head lifting, waving you off. “I’m—”

The words choke off in his throat, his eyes caught on something over your shoulder, and before you can ask, he steps away from the post, moves past you, and you can see what he’s looking at.

If you didn’t know she was gone, you’d think you were looking at the back of Sarah Miller. An older version, taller, her hair a bit longer than your memory serves, but the similarities are uncanny. Your heart crawls into your throat as a young girl bounds toward Sarah’s doppelgänger, falling into her open arms with a giggle.

More tears springing into your eyes, you step closer to Joel, putting a hand on his arm. “Baby,” you murmur, letting your hand drop, reaching for his, “let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

He doesn’t move. You both stay where you are, Joel’s eyes tracking the girls as they disappear, but you can almost hear the wheels churning in his mind. You say his name again, but he ignores you, and as you watch, that hard mask — one you haven’t seen for a while now — forms on his face, effectively pushing you away.

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” he bites out, and before you can reply, he’s gone, tugging his coat closer, stalking off through the crowds.

You have half a mind to follow him, but something tells you you shouldn’t, and you stay put, wipe the tears from your lashes, looking around at the town. There are just so many…people. Happy people, healthy people.

Part of you wants to deck Tommy for not telling you to come sooner, but then you remember Maria’s pointed look in the mess hall, when he’d said that having a bad reputation doesn’t always make you bad. What stories has he told his wife? How much does she know? She’d kept him off the radio, after all, leaving you and Joel to spiral back in Boston.

You blow out a breath, refusing to dwell on the past, on all the things you don’t have the power to change now. You made it here, found much more than you bargained for, and hopefully, Joel got some information from Tommy about where you go next. Peering around, you realize you’re not totally sure where you’ve ended up, making your plan to head to the house Maria had briefly shown you before taking you to Cowan’s a moot point. You turn on your heel, contemplating going into the bar to talk to Tommy, when you barrel straight into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say immediately, your boots sliding against the snow. The other person grabs your arm, keeping you upright, and your eyes flick up, widening. “Henry!”

It’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, his nose bright, and he sniffles as he nods at you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be,” you assure him, reaching up and cupping his cold cheek in your palm. “Honey, you’re freezing.”

“I was at the graves,” he tells you, and you nod, “but when I heard you and Nick coming, I ran. I didn’t know what to—”

You shake your head. “Henry, it’s okay, really. I promise. This day has been…intense. I was just about to go back to the house Maria put us up in, but I realized I don’t really know where I’m going. Why don’t you show me the way, and I’m sure we can scrounge up something warm to drink inside?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny smile, but a smile all the same. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” you agree, and he offers you his elbow, turning you in the opposite direction you’d about to start walking. “God, you’re so tall.”

“Giving Nick a run for his money,” he says, and you can hear the smile still in your voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey,” you tell him, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow as you start walking. “Anything.”

“Do you remember my parents?”

Oof. “A little. I never really got the chance to know them well; I wasn’t at the mall very long before they died, but I remember them being very nice, very kind. Your dad was very funny, he was always trying his hardest to make you kids laugh.”

“And my mother?”

You swallow hard, ignoring the scene that flashes in your mind. The last time you’d seen Tim and Marcy, FEDRA soldiers had been carrying their bodies out of the mall where you’d all been staying. Tim had blood on his mouth and a bullet in his brain, and Marcy’s throat had been ripped out.

“She was beautiful,” is what comes out of your mouth, and it’s not a lie. She was a beautiful woman, and part of you aches at the realization that you and Deanna never really talked to the kids about their parents much, at least not while they were in Boston. “She chased the two of you around a lot, but I remember she’d tell you bedtime stories every night.”

“I remember that, I think,” Henry says, and you squeeze his arm. “I remember her telling me she’d always chase the bad dreams away.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s all worked out this way. It’s not fair.”

He falls silent, and you walk quietly until the house comes into view. You head inside, finding a note from Ellie that she’s across the street at Maria and Tommy’s house. The house is warm, and sure enough, it’s easy to find a few stray tea bags, some mugs, water and a kettle.

Henry takes a seat at the kitchen island as you make the tea, arms propped on the counter, shoulders hunched. Part of you wants to ask him about Emily, but you hold your tongue, searching the kitchen cabinets and eventually finding a few sugar packets.

“Deanna still talked about you a lot,” Henry says suddenly, and his voice almost makes you jump. “After we left Boston. I think she was mad at Nick, for taking us away, and I don’t know if they ever made up, really and truly.”

“She was mad?” you repeat, dropping the tea bags into mugs and filling them with hot water. “At Nick?”

He nods. “I don’t think she really believed him, when he told us you were dead. Em and I were just kids, but Deanna…she’d give him shit all the time, anytime he made a decision on the road, she’d always counter him and say something like, if Liv were here, she’d do this.”

It makes your throat tight. Sounds like the Deanna you remember.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and your brow lifts, “for believing him.”

You shake your head, setting one of the mugs in front of him and taking the seat beside his. “Henry, honey, you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known; you don’t need to apologize.”

He taps his fingers against the side of his mug. “You were always there for us, Liv. I remember that.” His forehead furrows. “I remember…you getting hurt? You slept on the couch in our apartment for a few days and…” He trails off, shaking his head, but you remember.

“I fell down the stairs,” you say, recounting the lie you’d offered to cover up the beating you’d received in FEDRA lockup, your penance for Joel and Tess coming into the QZ. “That was just after Joel showed up.”

He nods. “I remember being really, really worried when I saw all the bruises, and Deanna told me not to worry, that you were tough and you’d be fine, but I snuck out of bed that night anyway and just sat by the couch, made sure you were still breathing.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I remember. You scared the shit out of me, honestly.” That earns you a laugh, and you put your hand on his knee. “But then you started crying, and so I hugged you and told you I wasn’t going anywhere, that there was nothing that could take me away from you kids.”

“But then Nick did.”

You inhale sharply. You’re entering dangerous territory. “He did. I don’t agree with him telling you that I was dead, but he had his reasons, Henry. And he did his best to protect all of you.”

“Do you know the reason?” he asks, and your heart sinks. “Because even if you were dead, it doesn’t make sense why he dragged us out of Boston like that.”

“I don’t understand FEDRA anymore than you do, honey. He told me you stayed in Chicago for a while; if they sent him there, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But why did he want to take us away from you? And why didn’t you come looking for us?”

Fuck.

You shove a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t know where he’d taken you. I was the last person FEDRA was going to divulge information to, and without knowing even which direction he’d taken you, there was nothing for me to go on.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. You had no idea where Nick had taken them when he did, leaving behind only the note he’d written, telling you not to come after them, that you should stay in Boston and that he’d keep your secret. A secret you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell Henry. Not yet, anyway.

Henry sips his tea and you stare down into your mug. Silence settles, but it’s only a few moments before Henry breaks it. “I miss her every single day,” he says, and your eyes lift. “Emily.”

It feels like a punch in the chest. Your eyes are sore from crying already, and yet tears spring anew. “I do too,” you tell him, “and I don’t have the same version you did. She’s still a little kid in my mind, drawing butterflies everywhere.”

“She got really good at it,” he continues, a sad smile pulling at his mouth. “Drawing, I mean. It was all she ever wanted to do, and Nick always made sure she had something to draw with. Good of him, I guess, despite it all.”

“Henry, honey, you can’t hate him forever,” you say, veering for a subject change, if only to beat down the grief rising in your chest. “You’re allowed to be mad; I’m mad as all hell. But Nick Cowan is the closest thing you’ve had to a father in this world, and you know that as well as I do. He did what he had to, and he did it to protect you.” You inhale sharply. “If the roles were reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “What?”

You sigh. You can’t tell him, you know you can’t. But despite all of it, Nick lied to protect them because of you, and you can’t let Henry hate him because of what you did.

“It was my fault,” you say finally, and the grief feels like it might spill over anyway, but you can’t keep up the facade, can’t let Nick take all the blame for this. “I messed up, and it put everyone in danger, and that’s why Nick took you away. I never came after you because I didn’t know where you went, and Nick told me to keep my distance. It was never anything you did, or your sister, or Deanna. It was me, Henry. I caused this. So if you’re going to hate anyone, it should be me. Nick did what he had to.”

He stares at you for a long moment. You wish the floor would split open and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t. You brace your hands on the countertop, waiting for the shouting, the same words he’d hurled at Nick in the street.

But instead, you get, “Are you staying? In Jackson?”

Not what you were expecting, but you’ll take it. “Not for long. We came looking for Tommy, hoping he might know where to take Ellie.”

“That’s the girl that’s with you?” You nod. “You’re taking her to the Fireflies?”

Your brows shoot up. “How do you—”

He waves you off. “Tommy likes to talk when he’s drunk.”

“You—” You cut yourself off, unable to lie any further. “Yes.”

“And after? When she’s where she needs to be?”

Your brow furrows and you shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. Joel and I haven’t decided. We’ve never had a decision like this available to us, and we’d have to talk to Maria more first, I think.” You stare down into your mug again. “I don’t think she likes us much.”

“Aren’t you supposed to hate your in-laws?” he jokes, the mood instantly lightening, and you bark a laugh.

“How would you know?” When his cheeks go red, you smile. “Someone special?”

Henry nods. “Very special.” He swallows, setting his mug on the counter. “His name is Cal.”

The spark in his eyes makes your gut twist with happiness. Despite it all, Henry’s managed to find something that makes his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, something that brings him joy you can feel.

You throw your arms around his neck. “I’m glad, Henry. I’m so, so glad.”

And you are.

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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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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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arroganceisherfavoritecolor · 1 year 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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animatorweirdo · 27 days ago

Text

When The Dragons Fly (Book 5)

The construction of your new home has come to an end. However, when all seems well--- a new danger appears.

High Valyrian = []

Chapter 4

Warnings: some angst, language lessons, giving chase, some people being angry at the Easterlings, and prepping for the worst.

-------------------------------------------

After the snow melted and the winter was officially over — you were blessed with a blooming spring. To your relief, Maedhros did not attempt anything after the incident, but he did not allow you to hear any word from him afterward either. It was completely silent between you. It made you feel sad but you guessed he was still processing the secret you and Aelon had kept from him these past years and distracted yourself with the building process of your home.

The building of your new home went smoothly and now on the once-empty hill stood a proud new village. It was small compared to the other villages, but it was enough for you and your people.

The people were kind enough to renovate your rooms in the mountain hall, fixing and refining them for you and those who chose to live there. They even helped smooth the walls on your dragon’s caves and you now had a proper housing for them.

Thanks to your connections with Torim in Belegost, the economy was stable, and trade was successful. You had food for your dragons and no longer suffered from shortages.

You, Deanna, and Baelen decided to share the responsibility of managing the new village. Deanna took care of financing and trade, Baelen managed safety and security, while you and Aelon took the duty of being on the lookout for dangers that might arrive from the north. There was no knowing when the dark lord might decide to expand his control and send orcs to Ossiriand, so you and Aelon would be first to know and alert everyone if that day ever arrived. All thought, Aelon mostly took care of that since you often ended up helping Denna and Baelen with their tasks due to your valuable input and planning skills.

Due to your effortless teamwork, you were asked to be the third chief of the village, but you humbly declined the title, having no interest in being in charge of anything but the security of your home. Internal matters were not one of your special skills. However, it did not stop them from including you in such things. Despite your decline of the chief position, you had become an advisor of sorts.

You considered it a blessing that today, you were allowed some peace and quiet in the main hall of the mountain hall, eating breakfast and teaching Eweniel some basic words in High Valyrian. It was a challenge as she struggled to roll her ‘r’ and remember certain words, but you were patient — she was a beginner after all. Aegar was gnawing on meat on a bone under the table while she was working on the homework you had given her.

“Alright! I think I got them!” Eweniel declared, pushing the paper toward you.

You set the fork down and took the list of words you had written for her to learn.

“Are you sure?” you looked at her challengingly.

“Yes. Bring it on,” she said with determination.

“Very well… what is ‘up’ is High Valyrian?” you asked, looking at the first word.

“[Up]” Eweniel answered.

“Good,” you look through the next word.

“What is ‘down’ in High Valyrian?” you asked.

“[Down]” she replied, making you nod as she got it correct.

“Left,”

“[Left]”

“Right”

“[Right]”

“Between?”

“[Between]” Eweniel answered, her pronunciation rolling smoothly this time.

“Behind,”

“[Behind]”

“In front?”

“[In fr–ont!]” Eweniel answered. Her wording is slightly off.

“What is above?” you challenged.

“[A…bove]” Eweniel uttered with hesitation.

you nodded in correction.

“Then what is ‘beneath’ in high valyrian?” you asked.

Eweniel did not answer immediately. You watched her think it through in her head but it seemed she had forgotten it.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” you broke the silence.

“No! No! I do… was it… [below]?” she answered with a hesitant look.

“Close. That was below. The real word is [beneath].” you answered, causing her to groan and lean against her chair dramatically.

“Your language is hard, and those are basic words,” she whined.

“Well, the language and the culture of my people had never been simple,” you chuckled and returned the paper.

“Keep practicing. You already know many basic words. Learn them all and you will be fluent in High Valyrian in no time,” you said.

“How does Aelon speak it so smoothly?” Eweniel asked while she read through the paper again.

“That’s because I’ve been teaching him since he was a baby so it would come to him like a second nature,” you explained before noticing Aelon walking with Baelen.

“Are you going on the patrol now?” you asked when the two came to you.

“Yeah. We’re going to check on the northern plains. We heard there had been some strange happenings,” Aelon answered, dressed in his riding outfit.

“Very well. Be careful,” you replied.

Baelen laughed. “I do not think you need to worry about his safety when he has a dragon to keep him from harm’s way,” he said, patting Aelon’s shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You can never be too careful. You never know what kind of unexpected might happen, and if you see anything, remember not to engage unless necessary,” you glanced at Aelon.

“Understood,” Aelon nodded, and he left with Baelen on the patrol.

You watched them leave through the main door and then saw Deanna walk past them toward you. She had a look in her eyes you have come to recognize that there was some finance or trade issue she would want to talk to you about. You made an effort not to show tiredness when she approached you.

“(Name). I have come up with a proposition that could improve our trading and possibly make deals in farm utilities, ” Deanna started.

“Deanna. I remember telling you that I’m not the most adept when it comes to matters of coin and trade,” you clarified.

“I do, but you have a brilliant mind when it comes to strategy and improvements, so if you would just hear me out…” she said.

“Fine. What do you have in mind?” you said, deciding it would be best to let her speak than ignore her.

Upon the northern slopes of Ossiriand, a man sat on his horse, observing the horizon. His hawk perched on his shoulder and watched the lands with him. Another hawk’s cry got his attention. He saw a messenger hawk and reached out to allow the bird of prey to land on his arm. The messenger hawk chirped with a message wrapped around its leg. The man took a small piece of meat from one of his pockets and fed the bird as a treat, before unwrapping the message and letting the bird fly away.

He unwrapped the paper and read the message, his hawk tilting its head curiously while looking at the piece of paper.

Another man stopped beside him.

“What message has Ulthor sent you?” the man asked.

“Go further toward south. Scout more of the villages ahead,” the rider answered.

“I do not mind another raid, especially since our last one proved fruitful. However, despite the resources we gained from the attack, we’re still low on men. We can’t risk losing more, especially with the north upon us,” his companion spoke.

“That is why we have to continue further on the south. We can’t return north and we have no path to get us through the mountains blocking our way toward the east. We just have to proceed toward the south and take what we find to survive,” the man answered.

“The damn dark lord and his treachery. If we had the rest of our people with us, we could be free to conquer and take whatever we want,” his companion said spitefully. The dark lord’s betrayal still fresh in his mind.

“Well, our situation is something we just have to manage. Let’s get going. We can’t waste any more time skulking here,” the man glanced at his hawk, uttering a few words in their tongue. His small companion then took flight and the man kicked his heels against his steed to order it to move.

The two men rode toward the lands before them, unaware of what they might find.

High above the sky and the mountains, Aelon was flying on Falconer. The wind blew against his face while he observed the ground below. Everything seemed peaceful and even Falconer felt more relaxed.

Falconer then chirped and looked toward something. Aelon followed Falconer’s gaze, curious to see what gained his dragon’s attention. He then saw something small moving through the plains. Unable to tell what it was due to the distance, Aelon pulled the reins and ordered Falconer to land somewhere closer yet hidden from the moving objects.

Falconer landed on a cliff in the mountains, keeping his eyes on the spots that moved in the distance. Aelon took out a spyglass from his saddle bag and looked through it. He then saw what seemed to be two men riding through the plain. Aelon felt confused as the men did not look like locals or ordinary travelers. They were dressed in strange furry clothing and looked different, with dark hair and goldened skin. Aelon had never seen people like them before.

He then had an odd feeling as he watched the two men ride toward the south. He ordered Falconer to fly and return to Baelen— their camp located not too far away from their location.

Baelon was laughing with his brother Kevhran as they joked and had a break with their men. Their leisurely moment was disrupted when Aelon landed near them on Falconer.

“Aelon! Did you see anything peculiar?” Baelon greeted with a casual tone.

“No, but I did see two riders coming this way and they looked a bit odd,” Aelon replied.

“What kind of odd?” Baelen curiously asked.

“Well, they didn’t look like the local people. They were dressed in these strange fur-like clothes. They had a much darker skin and black hair. I also noticed a hawk following them,” Aelon described, and then the laughter died among Baelen and his men. They looked at the boy and each other with quiet yet serious looks. Aelon felt strange by this reaction.

“A hawk?” Baelen uttered thoughtfully before looking at Aelon. “Did you see them carry bows on their horses? And were their clothes in lighter colors like yellow and leather-like?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Aelon nodded. “They’re not too far from here actually. You might be able to see them soon,” he pointed toward the north.

Baelen then stood up and walked over to the edge of the hill where their camp was located. He took out his own spyglass and looked through it toward the horizon. Through the spyglass, he saw the approaching riders.

“Easterlings…” he uttered which did not go unheard by his brother and men.

They all stood up with cautious yet angered expressions. “What are they doing here? Haven’t they taken enough from us?” Kevhran demanded with anger laced in his voice.

“I don’t know. It could be Morgoth is sending them here to raid and conquer lands for him,” Baelen suggested, putting down the spyglass.

“What should we do? Should we meet them? “ Kevhran asked. Their men nodded and placed their hands on their weapons in agreement.

“Who are they?” Aelon asked catching their attention.

“They’re are Easterlings. They used to be our allies. They betrayed us in Nirnaeth Arnoediad and helped Morgoth to gain victory and rule over the north. They are the ones responsible for our forced escape from our homes. They’re both traitorous and bad people, so never lower your guard if ever you come across them,” Baelen explained, then turned toward him.

“Aelon. I know your sister said not to engage unless necessary, but would you be willing to chase them away? I think they would be less inclined to invade when there is something they can’t fight against. It should also buy us time to warn our folks at home,” he explained.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Aelon nodded.

“Good. And don’t worry about what your sister might say. I think she will agree with this action, if not I will handle her. Now, go. The Easterlings must not be allowed to become familiar with these lands,” Baelen said.

Aelon picked up the reins. “[Fly Falconer!]” Aelon commanded, and Falconer leaped into the air, roaring and flying toward the riders.

“Did you hear that?” the man stopped his horse when he heard a strange sound. His companion stopped beside him.

“Heard what?” his companion asked as the two stopped to listen.

Nearly soundlessly, Aelon flew closer toward the riders without alerting them.

The man’s hawk companion then began screeching in alarm. The man and his companion finally became aware of the dragon flying toward them. Falconer released a loud shriek when he was noticed.

“Ride! Ride!” the man yelled, kicking his heels. The two began galloping as fast as they could as Falconer flew after them.

Aelon pulled the reins, guiding Falcioner to chase after them. At a close distance, Falconer nearly bit down on the man’s companion, who barely avoided the dragon’s teeth as he flew over them.

Aelon guided Falconer around to chase them from behind. The man looked after the white beast that flew around them like a bird of prey or a shepherd guiding its herd of sheep.

The man looked around as they were riding in an open field, an easy target for the flying white beast. His eyes then saw a forest near their way.

“Into the woods!” he yelled to his companion, and the two guided their horses toward the woods where they might find cover.

Aelon noticed what they were intending to do and gave chase.

The man and his companion yelled and urged their horses forward as the dragon flew low, closing in on them with incredible speed.

Their eyes remained fixed on the forest entrance ahead, their hearts pounding with fear. The man heard the beast’s shriek growing closer and feared they wouldn’t make it in time. At the last moment, they charged into the forest just as Falconer’s talons swiped at them.

“[Up!]” Aelon shouted, forcing his dragon to ascend and soar over the treetops—there was no way to follow them into the dense forest without crashing.

The man and his companion rode through the forest, slowing their pace. They then stopped, hiding beneath the trees while keeping their eyes toward the sky where the winged beast circled.

Aelon tried to look for the riders but the trees did not allow him to see anything. Unable to find them, he pulled the reins and ordered Falconer to return to Baelen and their group.

Inside the mountain hall, you have tried to discuss and plan the trading plans with Deanna, but your energy felt too used up to come up with good solutions. Eweniel had diligently worked on her High Valyrian on the side, not disturbing your talk with Deanna. Aegar was softly snoring around her chair.

Baelen and Aelon walked through the doors and approached you. You immediately noticed the serious look on Baelen’s face and Aelon’s unsure one. Their expressions were different but it was clear that something had happened.

“(Name) we have a bit of a situation,” Baelen stated.

You frowned. “What happened?” you asked.

“Nothing that was life-threatening to us, but we encountered two Easterling scouts too far away from the north,” Baelen began. “I had Aelon chase them out, but I’m concerned something big is happening since the Easterlings are here,” he explained. You glanced at Deanna who also looked serious after hearing the term ‘Easterling’. Eweniel looked at you all curious and confused.

“Just two you say?” you questioned.

Aelon nodded. “We checked other places and found no other scouts,” he added.

You thought to yourself. Just two scouts? Under what reason would Morgoth send so little to investigate land? With his resources and forces, he could send several scouts which is more efficient than two. He also has no reason to be secretive. Unless…

“What do you think?” Baelen questioned.

“We need to watch over the northern regions. Have any villages been attacked?” you asked.

“Not that we know off,” Baelen replied.

“Strange…” you uttered. “But just in case, send scouts to watch over the north and report back if they see any possible signs of the Easterlings. We need to be prepared in case of attacks,” you instructed.

“Already did so. Seeing them here is already a bad sign,” Baelen replied.

“If Morgoth is intending to invade Ossiriand. We need to be prepared for the worst” Deanna said.

“If that was the case why would there only be two Easterlings? And not any other scouting patrols? “ you questioned. “Also with the Easterlings under his service and his orc armies. He could send a whole invasion without any need for scouting,” you explained.

“Something doesn’t add up,” you stated.

“Well, whatever the reason. I hope they will stay away long enough for us to finish our preparations,” Baelen remarked, crossing his arms.

“Knowing their creed, they’re possibly already plotting to take whatever land and treasures they could find here,” he uttered.

“Deanna. Just in case, please notify our neighbors of the danger. We should not take any chances and be prepared for the worst,” you said.

“Of course. I get to it right away,” Deanna nodded.

“Invite them here for a meeting. This is something that will involve all of us and working together will give us a higher chance of fighting back if the Easterlings truly are here to pillage and take lands for themselves,” you added. Deanna nodded and left to fulfill your instructions.

“Baelen. Inform our people and have patrols on the lookout,” you said.

“Oh, my men are more than ready to meet the Easterlings in a fight if they dare to come here. Their betrayal cost our homes and the lives of many we held dear. It’s something we will never forget,” Baelen said and walked outside to start the preparations.

You leaned against the chair and released a heavy sigh. Just great. When everything finally seems to go in the right direction, a new danger appears, in the form of people who sided with Morgoth. Witnessing their betrayal was hard enough, and now, their appearance in Ossiriand threatened the safety of your new home.

Aelon stood beside you, quiet and unsure of what to say. He glanced at Eweniel who also held an uncertain look.

“Do you think we’re going to be attacked?” he asked.

“If the Easterlings are truly here, then there is a high chance that they will attack us,” you answered. “We will start preparing once Kevhran and his scouts have confirmed their presence,” you added.

“In the meantime, we just have to wait and see. “ you then looked toward. “Go rest, you had a long day,” you said.

Aelon glanced at Eweniel again, who shared his worried expression. He then quietly walked away to take a bath and rest like you said.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn@kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain @maedhrosiseverything2me

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #when the dragons fly #hotd x reader #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #various x reader #targaryen reader #silmarillion x targaryen reader #maedhros x reader

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