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hairyjocktf · 3 months ago

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A Full Dose of Country

Cody was exhausted. He was a star on the wrestling team at his university, but over winter break he’d been conscripted to be a helping hand on his uncle’s farm out in central Texas. After arguing for weeks with his very angry mother over the phone he’d submitted to spending his month off on the ranch. His mom had said that his uncle really needed the help for the season, and to put that athletic body of his to use. Cody rolled his eyes at that; he needed to be training for the next season. Instead he’d spent the past two weeks in the middle of nowhere helping out his uncle Shane, far from his friends and anything fun. Every day was long and exhausting. Cody thought he was in excellent shape but the long hours and excessive manual labor had started to wear on him quickly.

After putting some equipment away in the shed Cody trudged his way back into the small house, finding Shane slouched on the couch in front of the TV. He craned his neck around and gave Cody a quick up and down.

“Damn son, you look rough today! You better get in bed early, we’ve got a hell of a task tomorrow,” he said. Cody’s shoulders slumped at the news.

“What could possibly be worse than what you’ve had me doing already?” He snapped. Shane was unfazed at the attitude.

“There’s some new bovine flu or something goin’ round. Heard it on the news the other day. I ordered some shots for the cattle to keep ‘em healthy, and I need you to help me get them all handled. Shouldn’t be a challenge for a hot shot like you right?” He snorted. Cody gave him a solemn look.

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m just messing with ya, y’know that,” Shane said with more sincerity. “Go on and get some sleep now boy,” he said as he shooed Cody off to his room.

Cody made his way down the dimly lit hallway to the small room he’d been staying in. He wasn’t the neatest guy on the planet but the state of his room was awful, but he’d been run too ragged to care. He pulled off his jeans and shirt and fell onto the bed, and within minutes he was out cold.

The morning came abruptly with a banging on his door.

“Cody! Get dressed and out here we gotta start this operation early if we wanna finish today!”

His uncle’s slightly muffled voice was still too loud for whatever hour it was. He threw on his hoodie and jeans from yesterday before making his way outside. The darkness was just starting to give way to dawn as he followed his uncle’s silhouette out towards the barn. The morning breeze was frigid, blowing through his hoodie like it was nothing. Cody shivered as he caught up to his uncle, who was setting up the chute for restraining the cattle. He stood there staring, in disbelief at what he was doing. His friends were partying in Cancun and he was up at 5 am herding cows?

“Well don’t just stand there, help me secure the pens!” His uncle’s bellowing voice snapped him out of his daze. Cody had unfortunately spent enough time on the ranch already to know what to do, and he got to work moving fences and prepping the area. By the time the sun had finally risen above the horizon they were ready.

“Alright, now you’re gonna herd the cows in here one at a time, I’ll catch them in the chute, hit them with the needle gun, and let ‘em out into that second pen. Simple enough right?” Shane said, again with too much energy.

“Yea, sounds good.” Cody huffed, already feeling fatigued. He jogged back outside to start herding some of the cattle into the pens. He was surprised at how smoothly the entire operation was, within an hour they’d processed a dozen cattle. The problem now was getting the bigger ones in. Cody wasn’t normally afraid of a longhorn but in this situation he was tense, to put it lightly. Keeping his distance as much as possible, he slowly ushered the bull towards his uncle. As they neared their setup he had to get closer and more forceful, before finally spooking the animal into running into the chute. Shane slammed down the gates, holding the frantic bull inside the shaking apparatus.

“Cody!” Shane yelled over the racket, “Come hold this down so I can get a good shot!”

Cody hopped the fence and darted over to his uncle, holding the lever down against a raging bull. Shane was right next to him fiddling with the needle gun to refill it.

“Damn thing always jams at the worst times I swear…” he muttered before finally loading it properly. He squeezed up next to Cody to get close to the animal’s neck and leaned in to administer the shot. In that instant, the bull thrashed. Cody saw the massive horns swinging his direction and panicked, jerking to the side away from the head, directly into his uncle. They both toppled to the ground, and Cody felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. The bull knocked open the gates with no one to hold them down and dashed out into the pasture.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane said as he climbed to his feet, “You alright Cody?”

“Yea… I think so,” Cody mumbled as he stood up, feeling a pulsing pain in his gut. He lifted his shirt to find a small pinprick on his stomach surrounded by a reddened area.

“Aw shit, I must’ve hit you with the gun when we fell.” He walked over to Cody and kneeled down to look closely. “It’s a big needle for the cattle is all, you should be fine I think,” he said. Cody felt less than convinced. He scratched at the slightly itchy spot before letting his shirt down.

“C’mon, we’ve got plenty more cows to handle today. None of ‘em should be that aggressive again,” Shane said while inspecting the chute. Cody was a little shocked at how nonchalant his uncle was about what just happened. Cody headed back out to the pens to continue his job, but the slight itching on his stomach kept his mind divided. Surely nothing in a cow vaccine would be dangerous to a human right? They ate the cows in the end anyway, he thought with a slight chuckle.

Eventually the cows' persistent mooing brought them back to the present, and Cody’s thoughts slipped away from the earlier events. The work got his blood pumping, sending the vaccine’s contents all around his body. While the itch on his stomach finally subsided, a growing uncomfortable feeling was arising in his groin. The viral load had reached his balls, and while it was dormant for cows, the same couldn’t be said for Cody. It entered his cells and began making some changes down there. His balls began to swell, first to the size of walnuts before stretching his sack even more, plumping up to the size of large eggs. His newly enlarged testicles began to flood his body with more testosterone than ever before, laced with some bovine hormones.

His cock was the first to respond, twitching as it slowly grew hard, pressing against Cody’s compression underwear. His cock pulsed, head flaring as it stretched out, engorging to his full size of seven inches. Cody reached down to try and relieve some of the pressure, unaware of what was happening. He adjusted the band of his underwear, allowing more space for his cock to grow. And grow it did, pushing well past seven inches. The sensation of his throbbing member against his tight underwear was driving his body wild, even if he was distracted. His cock reached 11 inches, fully visible with a rock hard imprint in his underwear. Cody tried to adjust his growing package through his pants, oblivious to the situation below. As it capped out a glob of precum shot out of the tip, before the entire shaft thickened to a girth he could’ve only imagined before. A steady stream of precum began to flow afterward, creating an ever growing wet spot through his jeans.

As Cody continued wrangling cattle, the steady stream of hormones from his massive balls continued to spread. An itch reappeared, but this time in his groin. He’d always kept himself clean shaven down there, but a slight shadow had appeared around the base of his cock. Clear cut hairs were starting to crop up again, a wave of short but dark stubble expanding outward. The hairs didn’t remain short for long, as his bush began to regrow with a vengeance. They pushed out of his skin, curling together as new hairs began to fill in between the old. The hairs pushed out longer and longer, weaving into a dense mat. The forest continued to spread, with thick hairs coating his low hanging balls and expanding out onto his thighs. The hairs began crawling up his lengthy shaft, covering the lower half in a furry sheath. Cody again scratched at his crotch, not noticing the dense growth from outside his jeans. As he finished up working for the day, hairs were slowly popping up further and further up, building a trail from his forested bush to his navel. The thick rug was pushing out against his compression underwear, slowly growing thicker as more hairs filled in.

Cody wiped the sweat from his forehead as his uncle was finally putting away the equipment from the day. He was more exhausted than he’d ever felt, and he didn’t believe he’d ever say that after enduring countless grueling wrestling training sessions with his coach. Thinking on them, he found it harder to recall those experiences despite his muscles aching, but he chalked it up to the brutal day he’d had. The sun was already below the horizon by the time they got back to the house. Cody figured he’d take a shower while Shane was throwing some kind of dinner together, and headed back to his room. He pulled off his hoodie and sweat-soaked shirt, revealing the crawling vine of dark hair making its way up his abs.

“What the fuck?” Cody blurted out in shock. He ran his fingers through the wiry curls exposed above his waistline. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and stuck his hand down in his underwear, deep into the lush sweaty forest that’d been absent when he pulled on his pants that morning. His jaw dropped. What the hell was happening here? He pushed his hand farther in only to find his now massive cock, and his eyes went wide. He darted into the bathroom and yanked down his underwear. In the mirror fully exposed was his flaccid nine inch cock, drooped in front of his comically large balls, all buried within the thickest bush he’d ever seen. Cody delicately handled his dangling member, and the slightest touch had it growing hard, leaking precum from the tip. He was stunned, standing there with precum spilling over one hand and the other buried in the thicket of hair.

As he stood there staring, the virus reached his brain. His panicked face slowly morphed into a grin. This was kinda hot, he thought. Who doesn’t love a massive dick, right? Cody began to rub his hands through the thick tangle of hair, feeling the curls catch around his fingers. His cock throbbed as it grew hard, reaching its full size. He grabbed it with his other hand, feeling the softer hairs that were poking out of his shaft. Cody, overcome with pleasure, let himself go. He stroked with one hand and explored his furry groin with the other. Within a minute he was ready to climax, grunting as he shot thick ropes onto the mirror.

“Fuck,” he groaned, senses returning. He collapsed back onto the toilet behind, taking a moment to catch his breath before cleaning up his mess.

“Cody! Dinner’s on the table!” His uncle shouted from the kitchen. Cleaning would have to wait. Cody stuffed his still partially hard cock back into his tight underwear and threw on the rest of his clothes before heading out. He still had a grin plastered on his face, and Shane noticed.

“What’s got you in good spirits now, boy?”

“Aw nothin’ just proud of a good day’s work” Cody replied, suddenly caught off guard with his manner of speaking. That voice was his but didn’t sound like him, it was almost… country. No, he’d always spoken like that, he was from Texas after all. The smell of the sizzling food on the table grabbed his attention and he swiftly forgot about his concern. He scarfed the meal down, his body subconsciously needing the fuel. He suppressed a large belch before standing up, thanking Shane for the food, and heading back to his bed. Cody stripped off his shirt and jeans before flopping down onto the mattress, exhausted and stuffed.

As he laid there, twirling his new pubes between his fingers, he let his thoughts drift back to his friends from school off on their vacations. He wasn’t as jealous anymore. In fact, maybe he was on the better end of that deal. All this manual labor was keeping him in shape for the season; getting drunk daily on the beach wouldn’t do that! His cock began to chub up at the thought of him finally putting on the mass to be at the top of his weight class. Precum leaked down his shaft and into his musky forest as Cody drifted off.

Cody woke in a sweat to a familiar banging on his door. He peeled himself off the sheets, looking at the vaguely body shaped sweat pool he’d left. He himself was also soaked. Then the smell hit him, a musky sweaty stench had filled the room throughout the night. Cody was confused, he’d never sweat like this, not even after his gym sessions, it wasn’t even hot inside the house. He looked down at himself to see drops slowly streaming down his chest and stomach, which had grown slightly more covered with hair. He thoughtlessly scratched at his chin, fingers raking through small bristles that hadn’t been there before. With no time to ponder more he threw on some jeans and a tank top and ran out towards the barn.

Cody and Shane quickly got to work on the day’s tasks, eager to get as much done as possible before the sun got too harsh. Cody found it easier to get into what he was doing, it felt more natural somehow. As he worked up even more of a sweat than he’d woken up with, the combination of virus and testosterone got pumped around his body at an accelerated rate. The bristles on his chin began to poke out a little more; a shadow of stubble spread across his jaw and up onto his cheeks. Cody scratched at the growing stubble, not noticing the difference from his baby smooth physique before.

That smooth skin was quickly becoming a memory, as his upper lip was covered by the same shadow, dark spots turning into short hairs that pushed out longer and longer. The wiry hairs sprouting from his face grew thicker by the minute, new wisps shooting out between the maturing hairs. He’d grown into a scruffier version of himself, the shadow of stubble creeping down his neck as the hairs on his chin, upper lip, and cheeks fluffed out more.

As he worked, Cody’s arms pumped up more than usual and his legs following suit. His already well defined pecs began to feel sore as they pushed out, stretching his tank even more than usual. What had been rolling hills turned into mountains as muscle packed on. The soreness was quickly replaced with a subtle itch; the tendril of thick curls reaching up from his groin began to climb higher. Hairs shot up north of his navel, growing in a line up towards his beefier chest. His collarbone was the first to react to the cocktail of hormones surging inside him. A lone dark hair shot up over the collar of his tank. Another curled out, and then another. Wispy hairs began to crop up along the top of his chest, cresting over the neck of his tank. The beads of sweat covering his chest only seemed to fertilize more growth, matting the hairs to his skin in swirls and spirals of masculinity. Before long a rug had begun to form on his chest, hairs pushing out and puffing up his tank as it struggled against his growing body.

By mid afternoon, they’d finished everything for the day. Cody’s sudden burst of work ethic surprised Shane, who didn’t seem to notice his nephew’s burgeoning beard. Cody could feel the pump in his body, it was sore but he felt electric after working all morning.

“Whew, that went smoother than I ever figured,” Shane laughed and slapped Cody on the back. “Why don’t we enjoy a beer and take the rest of the day off.”

“Can’t say no to that I s’pose,” Cody responded with a smile. The two walked back to the house and settled out on the back porch. Shane grabbed some beers from inside and tossed one to Cody.

“Seems like you’re getting the hang of all this work around here, son. I could use a hand like yours more often!” Shane howled and cracked open his can.

“Well, y’know, I guess I’m startin’ to enjoy it all a bit. Somethin’ about it out here makes me wanna stay,” Cody said with a heavier accent than even his uncle. Shane smiled back at him. The two chatted with a better rapport than ever as Cody downed his beer, and then another, and then two more.

His stomach gurgled as more hair spread across his stomach, fully burying his abs under a dark coat of hair. The line reached up to his chest widened, small fuzzy hairs spreading out before thickening up. Cody’s sweat covered chest followed suit. In the cleft between his pecs, hairs pressed their way out, spreading outwards as they grew in denser and darker and caught more sweat. What had been light fuzz across the wide expanse of his muscular form was corrupted by testosterone, follicles going into overdrive pushing out thicker darker hairs. The rug spread out around his nipples and upwards, merging with the hairs covering his collarbone as more continued to pop up towards his shoulders and up his neck.

Cody was in the middle of downing another beer when a rank stench filled his nose. It was familiar, almost like the one from when he’d woken up. He lifted his arm and was greeted with a faceful of powerful body odor; his pits had become ripe and full of hours worth of sweat. He watched as the carefully shaven skin tinted dark as hairs sprouted en masse. It seemed like a waterfall in slow motion, watching the dark hairs pour out of his pit, growing longer and longer as they trapped more sweat in his damp pit. The growth spread, hairs pushing beyond the edges of his pits and growing the forest larger until it blended with the rug on his chest. His other pit itched as the same growth began to take place, a thick tuft of hair erupting. He could feel the wiry hairs pushing out between his arm and torso, growing bushier and escaping the bounds of his underarm.

He should’ve been shocked, alarmed, panicked, anything of the sort, but instead he just stuck his hand into the damp jungle to scratch it. His fingers dug into the thick forest, digging deep to get at the sweaty skin below. Upon pulling his hand out he automatically sniffed it, as if he’d done so for a lifetime. The aroma filled his nose, the ripe stench causing his cock to shoot out a spurt of precum. The virus had gotten its foothold, altered his thinking enough to not only be nearly unaware of the changes, but to be aroused by them, to desire them. He leaned back in the chair, lifting his arms behind his head and exposing his hairy matted pits to the world.

The chair groaned under Cody as his body slowly swelled, muscles growing larger and thicker. His back popped as it grew wider, shoulders broadening as his traps and delts exploded with size. His tank top, already at its limit, began to tear at the sides where his lats were widening. Cody scratched at a slight itch on his shoulder, not thinking much of it, but the dusting of hairs on his shoulders had begun to spread, new curls cropping up all over. The wave of fur stretched from his forested chest up over his collarbone to his traps and shoulders before starting its descent. The itch crept down towards his shoulder blades as thin hairs pushed out, quickly growing from fuzz into fur. It almost looked like Cody was developing wings made of hair, as the patches knit together, creeping towards his spine to join into one hairy coat. The bristles continued working down, sprouting into thick stands that tangled together as they pushed out, growing denser as testosterone drenched each and every follicle. The burgeoning trail of hair reached his waistband, where it exploded into a sweaty tuft just above his ass. The hairs continued to fill in until his entire back was coated, a sweat-matted rug that was even curling around his sides to connect with the field of hair on his stomach.

Cody shifted in his seat, trying to shake an uncomfortable feeling growing down in his underwear. His ass had been filling out all day, stretching his underwear to its limit, but this was different. Deep between his cheeks, thick hairs were slowly pushing out around his hole. They grew dark and wiry, tickling him as they squeezed between his massive cheeks. More hairs began to press out, surrounding his hole before spreading outwards. The shadow of loaded follicles crept over both his cheeks, and shortly after the hairs burst forth in a wave, pushing against his tight underwear as his ass disappeared beneath the growing fur. The hair continued to spread, connecting to his furry back and to his jungle of pubes which similarly thickened even more.

Cody reached down to scratch at his crotch, and paused for a moment after seeing his hand. It was much thicker than it’d been, with rough, calloused palms and thick sausages for fingers. He flipped it over and watched as a thick dark hair wormed out of his knuckle, followed by another, and in seconds there were dark tufts of hair popping up across his hand. The hairs crawled up towards his forearm, where his once soft dusting of wispy brown hairs was overrun by new dense growth. The hairs pushed out long and wove together into a puffy forest that climbed up his arm, the growth not petering out in the slightest. His beefy triceps vanished beneath the growing fur as it reached towards the thick hairs on his shoulders.

He watched the hairs overtake his once smooth and tanned skin but, rather than alarm. all Cody felt was arousal, with his cock chubbing up in his pants. He was half tempted to use that newly hairy hand to grab it, but he restrained himself. Not in front of Shane, it could wait. The sun had started to set, and as if on cue his uncle spoke up.

“Welp, better get workin’ on some supper,” he said, hoisting himself out of his chair. He left Cody out on the patio, finally giving his nephew a quiet moment to himself. Cody gazed out over the pastures, glowing in shades of orange and gold from the sunset. He could get used to it out here, he thought to himself. The desire to get back to wrestling with his team had slipped even further, he’d barely mentioned them during his and Shane’s multi-hour banter. The virus had been multiplying in his head, suppressing those neural connections in favor of those made recently on the ranch. He wanted to stay here on the ranch with the cattle, giving the virus more chance to spread to others. It would do anything to make that a reality.

Cody watched the sun slip below the horizon and headed back to his room. He tried to pull off his tank but instead it shredded, unable to cope with his massive body. He laid down on the bed, feeling the thick hairs on his back rub against the sheets. It was an electric feeling, and very quickly the bulge down there had doubled in size from the sensation. He brought one hand up to the dense rug of hair on his chest, not questioning how it’d grown since the morning, raking his fingers through the wiry swirls of hair. It felt amazing. A wet spot appeared on his jeans and grew as he stroked the thick chest hairs, before he stripped off his pants and underwear to free his fully erect cock from confinement, dribbling precum down its side.

His other hand he brought up to his face, feeling the fluffy growth. It was lighter than the rest of his new growth, but as he scratched at his cheeks he could feel new hairs poking out. The hairs grew in thicker and denser, his beard filling in as skin vanished underneath. The follicles continued to pump out hair after hair, thicker and darker than before as hormones completed his change. The beard hairs pushed out longer and longer, tangling into a solid block of hair that hid his face and neck as it grew down. The bristles poked out higher up on his cheeks, claiming as much of his face as they could. Cody was in ecstasy, feeling his beard come in around his fingers. His cock pulsed without him even needing to touch it, the testosterone coursing through his body thickening all the hairs into a seamless pelt.

He loved his new body, his new fur, and he had to make it permanent. The virus guiding him, he reached down to his cock, his grip not even enough to surround the girth, and pumped it once up and down. With just that, Cody moaned in a newly gruff voice as he climaxed, his cock erupting with a geyser of cum. Rope after rope of thick cum landed all over his body, getting stuck in the forest of hair engulfing him. As the last load dribbled out of the tip his body relaxed, so did his old life of college and wrestling. Cody laid there, plastered with his own load as waves of pleasure echoed through his body. This was the life, he thought, still rubbing his hands through his cum soaked fur.

Cody managed to clean himself up a bit by the time Shane called from the kitchen. He sat across from his uncle at the table while they ate, resuming the banter from earlier. At the end of the meal Cody finally decided it was time.

“Y’know Shane, I think I’d like to stick around for good.”

This story is my submission to @occamstfs 2000 follower writing challenge. Definitely my longest one yet, thanks everyone for reading to the end! I hope y'all enjoyed it, and thanks to Occam himself for the motivation, inspiration, and editing he did!

#occam2000 #hairy tf #male tf #country tf #hairy #hair growth #hairy chest #beard #hairy pits #hairy torso #hairy back #my writing

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dollfacefantasy · 6 months ago

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Dream Walking ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you catch rick having a wet dream about you. you both try to move on from it, but with it stuck in each of your minds, it's near impossible to just go back to the way things were.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, dub-con, age gap (20s, late 30s), wet dreams, somnophilia

word count: 5.4k

Since the prison fell, you’ve had time to think about what it is you miss most. The security of the fences was nice, so was the comfort of the thin mattresses. There were also the routines everyone had fallen into that filled your days with a sliver of how life felt before everything went wrong. However, the piece you missed most, the thing you craved on nights like these, was the privacy of your cell.

You took those months for granted at the time. The ability to retire to your own space once the sun set was long gone. Now you lie with the rest of the group on the floor of this barn, sleeping all together like a pack of wolves in a den.

It wasn’t that it was horrible. You felt safe with everyone so close. You also didn’t have to worry about anything going wrong in the night without your knowledge. It just wasn’t as pleasant as getting to be alone at the end of the day when both your mind and body are tired. How you craved the sound of the steel bars shutting and the feeling of the lumpy pillow against your head.

But all that lies underneath a pile of rubble now. There was no use wishing for another time you’d never get back.

You sigh and roll onto your side. The thunder and rain outside was keeping you up. Your eyes scan the dark room to try and find another open pair, any one of your friends who would be able to suffer along with you. You don’t find any, which is a good thing you suppose, but now you’re left to lay all alone in hopes of sleep calling your name sometime soon.

You were in the corner of the barn with your jacket tucked under your head. That’s the spot you’d taken up as soon as people were picking where to sleep. You liked having walls to your back. It was less space for something to hide or attack from. Some of your friends like Abraham and Daryl lie along the walls like you while others like Carl and Michonne rest near the center, wanting to be close to any potential threat.

Rick sleeps a foot or two from you. He’s on his back, one arm behind his head while the other is draped over his abdomen. You can hear the deep and even rhythm of his breath, and you know that he’s out cold at least for the time being.

After a little while he rolls onto his side like you had, and you think that you’ve found someone to share your struggles with. When you look over at him though, his eyes are still shut, his lips are still parted, and his body is still limp.

Your lips purse with disappointment, but your eyes soften. He needed the rest. He’d been stretching himself to the limit ever since your group had barely made it out of Terminus alive. You understood why. The group needed somewhere stable to call home. You just wished he wouldn’t put that responsibility entirely on himself.

You always liked Rick. He’d taken you in a couple months after the outbreak when you were scared and alone, shaking and covered in blood on the side of the highway. You’d just seen the final members of your previous group fall victim to the dead. On the verge of giving up and letting a herd claim you too, you saw him dash by. He was looking for a missing little girl. Instead he’d found you.

Even on the farm when everyone was fighting over everything all the time, you admired him like you did now. It was almost weird to think of him now compared to back then. The clean-cut officer friendly you’d met a couple years ago now sported shaggy hair and a beard along with eyes always scanning for danger.

The crush you harbored for him was as strong as ever though. Not one thing about that had changed. Unlike his hair, you hadn't grown out of it in the slightest.

You continue watching him while the wind and rain team up to beat against the wooden slats of the barn walls. Interrupting your study of his features, he grunts. It’s quiet; so much so that you almost miss it amongst the other noise. It seems ordinary enough, but he does it again. And then again as he rolls further to his side so that he’s nearly on his stomach.

“Mmmm…” he sighs, “Fuck.”

Your eyes widen a little at that, but you smile, wondering what was frustrating him in the world of his dreams. His lips smack idly against one another for a moment before he speaks again.

“Just like that, baby. Atta girl,” he murmurs.

And now you’re really interested.

Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle your reaction. You didn’t know whether to laugh or try to wake him. You knew that waking him up would be the right thing to do… but you didn’t want to just yet. He rolls his hips against the hard ground he’s sleeping on, which you know can’t feel that good. But he does it again. And he looks like a divine being as he does so, everything about him enrapturing you.

Another low groan seeps from his mouth, and a couple incoherent words follow. You bite your lip and look around again to make sure no one else is watching you. You couldn’t help wondering who he was dreaming of. Maybe Lori still crossed his mind every once in a while or possibly he harbored some secret desire for someone in the group. Perhaps it was just a plain old sex dream and he was envisioning some woman he liked before the world changed.

“Fuck…” he grunts again, “Such a good girl.”

Warmth simmers to life in your belly, and you find your thighs rubbing against one another. Those two words were a weak spot of yours, so of course he'd have to rasp them out like that. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined them falling from his lips but hearing it in reality was so much sweeter.

His arms shift around as he continues trying to find some relief against the dirt. By this point, a bulge has formed at the front of his pants, and the sight is enough to make your mouth water. You know this is wrong, perving on him like this, but you swear to yourself that you're gonna wake him up. Just a few more seconds. Though before you get the chance, he moans again.

Among some expletives and praise, your name floats into the night. The syllables leak out in a hushed manner, but they send a jolt through you regardless. Your eyes widen and the heat in your tummy creeps up through your neck into your cheeks.

"Just a little deeper, dolly," he slurs, "That's it."

This time you're unable to repress the laughter that bubbles in your chest. The sound is soft, but it's enough to rouse him.

His eyes flutter open, his pupils still laden with sleep. It takes him a few seconds to register all that's going on.

"What're you gigglin' about?" he grumbles as he sits up and rubs his face.

But as soon as he moves, he becomes conscious of what was so amusing to you. He feels it rock hard against his thigh and flashes of his dream run through his mind. You can see it on his face, the embarrassment over the fact that he'd been caught having a wet dream. Caught by the very person it starred.

"Sorry," you simper.

He tries to maintain his usual stern temperament, but you see his humility in the flush of his cheeks. He can't look you in the eyes right now. His mind struggles to grasp the words that would make this better.

"Grow up," he mumbles as he starts to roll the other direction, "You've never had one of those? How old are you?"

"Old enough for you to dream about apparently," you say with another little laugh as you go to lay down yourself.

"Shut up," he mutters before closing his eyes again.

A few days went by before either of you addressed it. That was Rick's doing since he pretty much avoided you as best he could after it happened. It made you a little sad, but it was understandable. You probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

The group had left the shack from that night in search of more food and water. The bunch of you stagger in factions as you walk along some train tracks through the woods. Maggie, Glenn, and Tara lead at the front while Michonne with Carl carrying Judith linger a little behind them. You're trekking along with Sasha and Rosita before letting yourself fall back so you can be besides Rick.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask.

He glances over at you. "No, I'm not mad at you," he states matter of factly.

"It seems like you are."

"Why's that?" he asks.

"Cause you've been avoiding me," you say with a coy smile.

"I haven't been avoidin' you," he denies.

"Mhm," you respond, "C'mon, it's not that big of a deal. Things don't have to be weird now."

His eyes remain on you as if trying to analyze your intentions. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," he says.

"The only thing making me uncomfortable is how awkward you are around me now," you say with a little feigned pout, "Seriously, I don't care. It was just a dream. People can't control dreams. It's not like I caught you jerkin’ off to a picture of me."

"Keep your voice down," he says, eyes flitting ahead to make sure no one had heard the topic of your conversation. He then sighs and runs a hand over his sweaty hair.

"C'mon, Rick," you say. You give his arm a little shove but do make a point to lower your volume. "I'm sorry for laughing at you."

"No you're not," he says and for the first time in days, he cracks a small smile.

Your face reflects his expression like a mirror. "Well... it was funny. But I still didn't mean to make you feel bad. It doesn't bother me or anything. I know dreams don't reflect real life," you reassure him.

He nods and remains quiet for a moment as the two of you continue down the tracks. You were slightly hoping he'd tell you his dream was based in reality. That he did want you while awake just as much as he did while he slept. But that was a wilder dream than the one that had caused all this.

He finally speaks and looks over at you again. "I appreciate you keeping it to yourself and not making a thing out of it."

"Of course," you beam at him, "I'm a good girl, remember?"

He gives you an unamused stare in response before lightly shoving the back of your head, guiding you back towards the rest of the group. Despite his outward annoyance, you could see the fondness return to his eyes.

It only took you a few weeks to make Rick regret his leniency in regards to your jokes. You still hadn't told anyone directly about his dream which he was grateful for, but people would probably find out soon enough with all your teasing and hinting.

At first, it seemed like you truly wanted to move on from it; leave what you'd witnessed in the past and forever wonder if the dream spawned from a place of true desire or just his brain fucking with him. Things were stressful enough for everyone during that week, especially Rick. The group had nearly succumbed to dehydration one day and struggled to find shelter for the next few.

But then you all had been invited to Alexandria. You and the others had been welcomed with open arms into a slice of the old world. Everything seemed to settle down for the most part. Your people were still on edge, Rick was ready for conflict at any moment, but no longer were you constantly worried about if you'd be able to find food or water.

And with things simmering down, Rick was pretty sure you decided that it'd be ok for you to turn the heat up.

It was after a week or so of being there that the jokes started back up. You'd reference the "good girl" part of it the most, but occasionally you'd mix it up and go for a "just like this, right Rick?"

Each little remark, every time your smug smile rose on your lips, the way you pranced around the community as if you knew a dirty little secret; it all compounded, a new stone being thrown at the glass that housed Rick's resolve.

Tonight he can't sleep. Everyone else in your group is passed out, exhausted from a long day. But he's wide awake. He feels restless. He shifts around on the sofa and sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Since joining Alexandria, everyone had begun easing up about sleeping arrangements. The first week, you all piled into one house and slept around the living room as if it was one of the sheds you'd been bouncing between before. But after some time went by, people began to spread out.

Everyone had basically claimed a house as their own by now, some sharing their's with a few other group members. Rick kept the one everyone had started off in. Carl and Judith slept peacefully in bedrooms of their own upstairs while he took the couch. Even though this place seemed like a paradise, he couldn't bring himself to trust it yet. He couldn't sleep in the master bedroom that was tucked away in the back of the second floor. It was the farthest from the stairs and all the doors. He'd never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn't in the position to protect his children.

Though they weren't the only ones in the house with him now. Peering down the hallway in front of him, he could see you. Despite how much you loved acting tough and teasing, underneath you were still vulnerable, and Rick wasn't blind to how you looked to him for comfort. When you came to him in the evening and asked to stay as everyone was heading off to their own beds, he couldn't say no. You could make all the bratty jokes and innuendos in the world, and he still couldn't stomach the thought of you feeling unsafe.

You were still sleeping on the floor against the wall. As much as you had missed your bed from the prison, you found yourself not ready to transition back to a mattress again when the time came. Rick understood. It felt weird going from the hard ground where you could spring to action in seconds to a comfy bed that cradled your form and kept you drowsy and unaware. At least in your place in the hall, you slept on some chair cushions he offered you so your body wasn't bare against the hardwood.

He watches you, taking in your sleeping form amidst the quiet of the house. A thin blanket covered most of your body, but he could still admire other parts of you from a distance. He could see the precious way your fingers curled around the edge of the fuzzy material draped over you. Your face looked so soft and delicate in its completely relaxed state. Your cute, plush lips were parted ever so slightly.

As his eyes raked over you, he felt something stir within himself. Instead of hearing your gentle breathing, the sounds his mind had created as you moaning in his dream played through his head. He tries to shake them away and think of other things, but you are all his brain wants to think about. If it's not you moaning or writhing in pleasure beneath him, it's how you giggle after telling one of your stupid jokes. It's the way your eyes widen with amusement when he growls "keep it down."

And if it's not that, earlier memories flicker through his internal vision. He can still remember the day he met you like it was last week. You standing there, bloody and shaking. Your eyes wide and darting around. So different from the you he saw today.

He sits up and scratches his jaw, feeling the skin that was now smooth from his recent shave. He still couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You had rolled over now, taking some of the blanket with you. He could see slivers of your legs and the roundness of your ass peeking from below the border of the blanket. Sighing, he leans back into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He had it bad for you, and he knew it. He just didn't like thinking about that fact or being cognizant of how pathetic he could be for you. Like having a wet dream. He hadn't had one of those in well over a decade before this last time. It was ridiculous.

It wasn't so much that he thought you didn't reciprocate. You were all but a petulant schoolgirl pulling her crush's hair for attention. Rather it was just that you were quite a bit younger than him, and it made him feel like shit. He supposed it didn't matter, being the end of the world and all. Things weren't the same as they used to be. It was a miracle to find anyone you could feel this way about now. But that didn't stop guilt from tying his intestines into knots every time he imagined anything more with you.

You didn't ease that feeling by toying with him so much either. Day in and day out, you practically begged for more out loud every time he came around you. His mind swirls with all the instances of your temptation, and in this moment, he really starts to feel that his guilt is unnecessary. It would probably return in full force tomorrow, but for right now, while he thinks of all the things you put him through, he feels like he deserves a little something for his troubles.

He stands up, and finds himself walking towards the area you sleep at the end of the hall. Any other man left in this world would have staked their claim on you by now. A pretty girl flagrantly throwing herself at the object of her affection. His honor held him back, but it wasn't like this was something so serious, right? Didn't he deserve to let go once in a while?

He crouches down next to you. At first, he only stares, but soon enough his hand follows. It starts on your shoulder, rubbing in a small circle. His palm then slides up and down your side. He can feel your muscles molding to his touch. Your body recognizes your need for him even when unconscious.

He maneuvers himself closer to you, sliding behind you on the cushions so that his chest is against your back. His hand stays on your body, continuing its slow, rhythmic movements. He keeps it over your shirt at first before slipping it beneath, exploring the skin of your midriff.

You let out a little sigh and shift a bit in your sleep. You still don't wake up though. He nestles his face against the back of your neck, taking a breath of your scent. He imagines what would happen if you woke up right now. He's positive you'd be startled, but he'd bet his life you wouldn't push him away.

He'd only ever been this close to you one time before. It was a couple days after the prison fell. Like right now, it was also at night. It wasn't sensual like he was trying to make this moment though. That time you'd had a nightmare. You woke up in tears, shivering in the pitch black of the random house you were shacked up in with him and Carl. It hadn't taken any words. He knew what you needed. He held you close like right now until you'd returned to the safe embrace of sleep. Unlike his wet dream, the two of you had never spoken about that since.

Testing the waters, his fingers dip below the hem of your shorts. They glide over your hip bone, pressing a tender massage into the skin. You like that. He can tell from the way you lean into it. You roll onto your back to be closer to him.

He really goes for it now. His hand slides to the front of you to cup your sex over your panties. He positions his face in the crook of your neck and lays a few soft pecks on your throat. His digits then start to move slowly.

They caress your pussy over the soft fabric shielding it from his raw touch. But even with the thin barrier, he can tell you feel the sparks of pleasure. Your hips wiggle a little bit. Your mind can't discern what exactly the sensation is right now. All you know is that it's starting to disturb your slumber.

You whine, the tender noise garbled and half-hearted.

"Shh-shh, sweet girl," he coos in your ear.

Upon hearing his voice, he sees your eyelids twitch as if they want to open. His middle finger slots itself between your lips and strokes with more precision. He can feel slick starting to soak through the garment. You whimper again. There's still a chance this could go so wrong, but that's part of what has his blood pumping down South to his building erection.

Your thighs part, your subconscious desire shining through. He chuckles against your neck and swirls the pad of his finger over your little bud.

"There you go. Let me in, honey," he praises.

Him speaking again is what finally draws you back into the waking world. Your eyes crack open. You're confused by what's happening; the warmth to your left side, the tingling between your legs, the raspy voice in your ears.

The moment reality clicks in your head is visible to Rick. Your eyes widen, as much as they can while your lashes are still heavy with drowsiness. Your head turns to connect your gaze with him. As he expected, the situation was jarring to you but not in a way that was completely bad. His movements slow, but they don't come to a full stop.

"Rick, what are you-"

He cuts you off by leaning in and putting his lips on yours. It felt different than you'd imagined. You'd become so used to seeing him with a beard that your daydreams always had his kisses feeling scratchy. You didn't update your ideas when he'd shaven clean. There's no scratch at all now. Nothing but his lips on yours.

His heart pounds violently within his ribcage. He pulls back, ready for your final verdict. He feels your thighs squeezing around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice soft and hazy like you had asked if you were still dreaming.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responds, "I'm givin' you what you want."

"Are you sure it's not what you want?" you ask.

Of course you'd still try to tease. Even when he so clearly had the upper hand.

"Oh I'm sure. You're not a mystery, sweetheart," he says quietly. He pauses for a moment but decides to to continue. "It took me having a wet dream for you to figure out you might have a chance, but I've known you've wanted me for a long time now just from how you look at me. Like you have little hearts in your eyes."

You bite your lip, both to suppress the moan bubbling in your esophagus and out of an embarrassment at how dead on he was. His finger works at you faster, sliding around in your arousal as he nips at your earlobe.

"You may as well have written 'fuck me' across your forehead, babydoll. Would've given me the same impression," he whispers.

You whine, and god, he can't get enough of how it feels to be the one teasing. For once, he's doling out the humiliation to you. You're the one with the shame boiling in your tummy and heat melting rational thought away in your brain. Your hips start to rock against his hand.

"Was this what your dream was about?" you whimper.

"No," he answers, smiling at your whiny tone, "That night you caught me I was dreaming about you sucking me off."

The mere suggestion makes your back arch and shaky breath exit your lungs. Once you're settled on the cushions again, Rick resumes filling in the details you hadn't been privy to.

"That's what got me. You were on your knees, looking up at me with those sweet eyes, pretty mouth full of cock. You were moanin', droolin' on it. You just couldn't get enough," he recalls as if talking about a memory, "I bet you love having a dick in your mouth, don't you? Lips like those were made for it."

You mewl again before nodding weakly. "I would've done it for you if you asked."

"I'm sure you would have," he smirks.

He leans in to give you more kisses as his fingers keep playing with your pussy. You keep rolling yourself into the touches. He's guessing you're getting close from the way your pace is picking up. He pulls back for a small break to catch his breath.

"Isn't this so much more fun when you're not being such a smartass?" he teases.

You pout at him as a reply. Your bottom lip wobbles as you struggle to maintain the expression. It was hard pretending to be upset when he was giving you everything you wanted.

"Don't look at me like that," he chuckles, "You're still a sweet girl. You just need the brattiness fucked out of you sometimes."

That wipes the pout away clean. Your lips part as you let out a tiny moan.

"Good girl," he croons.

But despite his praise, only a few moments later, he retracts his hand from your panties. You whine, and your eyes look up at him with a desperate urgency. He couldn't leave you like this. It would be deserved revenge for all your antics.

"Nuh uh, none of that," he murmurs as his hand goes to push down his sweats instead, "So spoiled, and I haven't even started with you yet."

You quiet down, just relieved he's not leaving. You boost your hips to push your shorts and underwear down. He watches with satisfied eyes at your attempt to match him.

"I want you cummin' on my cock before anything else, sweet thing. Think you can do that for me?"

"Mhm," you hum softly.

Your stomach flutters and your clit throbs when his cock is finally in view. Just seeing it makes your mouth water. It's hard all for you, angry veins spanning down the shaft to the swollen head. You reach for it, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

"You don't get to touch it just yet. It's going inside you first. Then if you're good, I might let you play with it later," he says.

In truth, this was the first bit of action Rick was getting in a while. Under no circumstances would he give you more ammunition for jokes by blowing his load from a handjob and then not getting it back up to fuck you proper.

You kick your bottoms all the way off as he rolls on top of you. He gives himself a few strokes of preparation before swiping his tip through your folds. A groan vibrates in his chest as the feeling of the warm, sticky fluid coating him. He lines himself up and sinks in. His hands move to the back of your knees, pushing your legs up to either side of your abdomen.

"Fuck, baby. You're tight," he grunts as he works himself between your walls.

You nod simply, still adjusting to the feeling of him stretching you out. Your walls flutter around him as if happy to finally have what you'd been craving for what feels like forever. He grunts again and tightens his grip on your legs.

A little bit more, and he's all the way in. He takes a moment to just feel it, your warm, wet, cunt sucking him in, embracing him like it was made to be his.

His forehead drops to press against yours as he begins to move. He thrusts at a moderate pace, but he makes sure to strike deep every time. Both of you are taking care to be somewhat quiet since it was the dead of night, but the sensations are strong with or without the noise.

"This what you been wantin', dolly?'” he breathes as the skin of his pelvis connects with your ass.

"Yeah, been wanting it everyday," you whimper, "I was hoping you'd have another dream."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, chuckling lowly between pants, "And you'd have been ready to help me out if it happened again, right?"

"Yeah. I needed it so bad. You don't understand," you whine. One of your hands rises up and tugs on his brown curls.

That draws a growl from him and makes him fuck into you harder.

"I do understand, pretty girl. Every time you ran that cute little mouth, I wanted to bend you over, spank that sweet cunt raw and then fuck it full," he mumbles.

Your eyes screw shut at the image he puts in your head. Your arms wrap around his neck and keep him close as can be. His hips rut into you with passion you'd never felt from anyone else before.

"That's all I wanted," you whine, clamping down around his length.

"You're gonna get it right now," he says and pounds against your hips harder.

They had morning after pills here. He'd seen a few packs in the infirmary. Cumming inside you one time would be fine. That's what his lust-driven mind told him anyways. He'd make sure to get some condoms before next time, because there would be a next time.

You wrap your legs around him and squeeze. He lets out a moan himself and slides his head over to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, baby. You ready?" he asks.

You nod eagerly as you approach the edge yourself. You slide one hand down to your clit, giving it a few strokes to make sure you could get there with him.

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips when he cums. His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth, using everything in him to stay quiet. And you cum seconds later. The way you pulse around him milks him dry. He spurts rope after rope of pent up release into your wanting cunt.

You tremble and whimper beneath him, your eyes unable to decide if they wanna roll back or close tight. He gently rocks his hips against you the whole time until you're both sated. Once both of your bodies are ready to give out, he pulls out of you. He drops back onto his side like he had been before and puts himself back together.

You reach down and pull your clothes back into place. He wasn't sure what was gonna happen next until you turned to look at him. Once he has a look at your expression, he can see the part of you that loves to rile him up and tease is gone right now. The vulnerable one that lurks beneath the surface has the reins right now.

You curl up to his chest. You wanna cuddle and kiss as you come down, and he gives you that. He gives it to you until you drift off to sleep again. He's not far behind you. You'd tired him out enough that he felt he could pass out too.

He scoops you up and brings you back to the couch with him, imagining this would look better than the both of you crumpled up on the floor together in a pile of disheveled blankets. Having you tucked to his side like this was all he needed right now. He'd done more than let go tonight. He was letting you in.

But those were thoughts for tomorrow. Right now, he's content to doze off with you into a dreamless sleep. There was no need for dreams now that he had the real thing in his arms.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x y/n #twd x reader #twd smut #twd imagine #twd x you #twd x y/n

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llamagoddessofficial · 5 days ago

Note

LLAMAAAAAAAA

WRITE MORE ABT FARMER (when you get the chance ofc)

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

Your life. Hand it over

---

It was the thickest rain you’d ever seen. It didn't fall like normal rain, it fell in layers, great arcs of water that thrashed the ground one after the other, stormy waves hitting a shoreline. The roar of it landing on the world around you was almost deafening - a problem, considering it was three in the morning, and you were walking in almost pitch black. Any other night you would’ve been guided through the seemingly-endless farmland by recognising the hedges and hearing the animals... right now, you were guided only by the weakened blueish light of your headlamp, and the best that your memory had to offer.

You spotted it, in the near distance. The tiny light of another lamp was flickering back and forth in the rain, moving with the speed and efficiency of a hard-at-work man who couldn’t wait to get out of the terrible weather and go back to bed. You quickened the pace, marching down the field, your waterproof pants were coated in cold mud up to the calves; you were glad you couldn’t feel it. The only wet part of you was your face, and hands - you needed the latter out to hold the big metal flask you were carrying.

You didn’t mind the wet and cold. You stomped on regardless. All you cared about was the sight of that head lamp, getting closer and closer in the relentless wind and rain. You could just about make out the things he was looking at, illuminated by his lamp... the part of the fence he was doing his best to repair.

Before you knew it, you were within shouting distance. But there was no point, he wouldn't hear you. A particularly strong gust rushed across the field, you felt a carpet of rain hit you in the back, and the wind shoved you ungracefully forward. You let out a little yelp but managed to stop yourself from falling over.

... You heard your name over the rain. He had noticed you. You looked up - his headlamp was angled slightly downward, rather than straight ahead, so it didn’t dazzle you like you expected it to. Sans was dressed in his usual farm gear, his heavy boots and thick waterproof pants, and the rain had washed his green jacket cleaner than you’d ever seen it before. His hood was pulled securely up over his skull and he had a fence post the size of you in one hand like it was nothing.

... And he was looking at like he’d seen a ghost. It was rather comical.

“There you are!” You picked up the pace for the last few steps, jogging over to him, before you finally came to a stop. Phew, you’d been walking for almost five minutes in the storm. It felt good to finally see him. Despite the cold, you were pretty flushed from the exercise, hot under the combination of your sweater and coat.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” His green eyelights glowed under his hood, like two soft fireflies, a much more pleasant colour than the cold lamplight both of you were bathed in. It was as if only the two of you existed in the whole world... two headlamps in an endless sea of dark and wind and water. “it’s two in the morning,”

“Three, actually,” you chirped. It was somewhat hard to hear him over the rain hitting your hood, but you just stood a little closer to him. Your hurried breaths formed clouds, you could see them in the combined lamp glow.

He put down the fence post. It dropped with an heavy thunk. “did papyrus send you?”

You just held the big metal flask out to him. It had a black strap attached to the side of it that was sodden by now. He accepted it, seemingly out of instinct, staring down at it before glancing back up to you.

“... uh... thanks. what is it?”

“Soup!”

He blinked. “soup?”

“Yeah. I woke up to the rain, and I figured you’d be out here, because you’d mentioned the fence needed fixing properly before the storm hit." You pulled your coat sleeves over your now-free hands. "Though I did ask Papyrus if you’d actually headed out before I left. I’m not that crazy.”

He was still staring. The rain continued to roar, you had really hoped it would've eased up by now. But it seemed to be only getting worse. Probably for the best Sans was repairing the fence now, before everything completely flooded come morning.

“I know, I know," you continued when he didn't reply. "I’m dumb for going out in the rain, I’ll get wet. But I’m fine, see? I put the waterproof pants on over my boots, like you said. It’s been raining like hell and the only part of me that’s wet is my hands!”

“you... came out all this way, to bring me soup?” he said, softly. You almost didn't hear him.

“Yeah. Pumpkin soup. Knowing you, you didn’t eat anything before you left.”

He had gone quiet. That wasn’t like him. He was looking at you very intently, with great big eylights. Another gust of wind sent a wall of rain into the two of you. You visibly swayed, but Sans didn't seem affected by it.

Was he upset that you might get cold? He didn't look upset, his eyelights were so round, almost sparkly.

“I promise I’m not cold," you pressed. "This is the coat you lent me. See? It’s - ”

Sans moved forward a step. It was all he really needed to close the gap between you. He put an arm around you, despite the flask in hand, and swept you in against him; you were too startled by the sudden movement and proximity to move or do anything. His free hand came up, sliding between your coat hood and the side of your cheek, cupping your face.

He leant in and kissed you.

...

For a moment, you couldn’t hear the rain. You couldn’t hear anything at all. All you could think about was how smooth his hand was, how nice he smelled, how hard your heart was beating, and how warm he was. After so long walking around in the rain, being pulled in close to him felt incredible.

He felt so strong, too. All night, you'd been pushed around by any breath of wind, no matter the direction. In his arms? Nothing moved you. Nothing could shake you.

... Your eyes closed. Maybe it was the dark and gale and rain, maybe it was how early it was in the morning. But you just didn’t want him to let you go.

...

Sans pulled back. Your eyelids fluttered open again. There were raindrops on his skull, and the lamplight was dancing over his bones. His eyelights are such a pretty colour. He was looking at you like he wanted to pick you up and walk home with you.

...

Then, in an instant, the reality of what he just did appeared to hit him. So close to him, you could watch in real time as his eyelights shrank into pins in his sockets, and his smile twitched in what you could only describe as total internal panic.

... You, too, started to do the worst possible thing - think.

Sans just... kissed me. Sans just kissed me.

... You both just stared at each other, he was still holding you. You had no idea for how long. Sans’ eyelights kept flickering between your eyes and your nose, and you kept staring blankly at him, dazed and suddenly very confused.

...

“I-I should, head back,” you started, nervously.

“yeah. uh... yeah.” His hand came off your face, and he let go of your waist, stepping back again. You immediately missed the warmth. “thank you for the soup."

You nodded.

"i’ll..." He sounded shaky. He held onto the flask with both hands, maybe to stop himself from fidgeting. "see you later?”

"You too," you stammered.

... Wait. Shit.

No idea what else to say or do, you stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, trying to formulate something to say or some interesting witty way to turn that fuck-up into a joke and end the conversation - but you had absolutely nothing. Your head was spinning, your heart was still beating a mile a minute, you couldn’t believe that had really just happened. So you just turned right around and started walking.

...

Holy fuck, you thought, pulling your hood tight over your head. What the hell am I going to tell Papyrus?

#llama writes #this was a draft for ages and i just couldnt figure out how to set up the scene #but then a storm hit the uk and it was the perfect inspiration i needed #farm sans #papyrus is going to be VERY excited btw #hes been quietly shipping the two of you this whole time

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starshipsofstarlord · 9 months ago

Text

lap girl (2)

summary. daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap

warnings. fluff, angst mentions of daryl’s childhood abuse, mentions of death, swearing

divider credits. @cafekitsune

greene farm

It was a new place, and they didn’t belong, and were only welcome due to the miss-aim of Otis. If he had hadn’t ricocheted a bullet into Carl, then their group that had travelled from Atalanta to the CDC and then some, would never have found this little piece of solace. Daryl’s eyes squinted beneath the glaring sun as he sought out the figure that had brazen themself to be absorbed in the daylight, feeling safe since there were barbed fences separating them from the wilderness in which the dead freely roamed. Y/n was enjoying the quiet that surrounded her, sitting upon the blades of grass that handed no threat in her direction.

It was pleasant to see her so peaceful, she wasn’t running for her life, or scavenging for scraps to replenish her hunger, she was instead still, and content in being so. But feeling secure wasn’t enough; it wouldn’t last, it never did. They’d eventually be sent on their way back to the trailing lands that had lead them here in the first place. The road was cruel, and it would only get worse when winter devoured them with the hardships of its crisp air.

And Daryl resented the foreshadowed thought, as they would need more supplies and warm food, and a fire big enough to bring heat to them all. The embers would only attract the undead and threaten them with even more loss, and whilst Daryl wasn’t particularly fond of many people in the group, he had somehow integrated within its ties after Merle’s absence.

Merle had left him before, in the worst possible way - alone with their father William Dixon. He understood that his elder brother had wanted to escape from the abusive entrapment, and thus he had allowed Daryl to be single-handedly foreseen by their parent as a punching bag; and worse. He still had the scars that were far too prominent over his body, they were askew like lines in a map, permanent and hadn’t faded since the sharp indents that had once been bloody had healed.

He resonated in a ying and yang parallel with Carol, the mother of Carol. She was distraught with Sophia’s fleet, already grieving her loss when there was nothing sufficed to state that she was either dead or alive, and Daryl felt responsible to uncover the reality that encased the child, to bring comfort to not only her mourning mother, but the rest of the group. It was an unsure journey that he had already been scathed from, a bullet that only with luck grazed his temple, and an arrow that was plunged from the long fall into his side, but he needed to do this.

Daryl knew what it felt like to be alone when he had been of the same age as Sophia, however he had discovered a loophole through the tormenting years prior to the contagion that infected the human vessel; there was a girl. He had been instantaneously drawn to her, although at first he had wanted to keep his distance, he’d never allowed anyone close. But she made him see the sun shine in every smile that composed itself upon her face and each glimmer that reflected in her eyes.

She made him feel safe. And so here he was, seeking her out as the gauze remained attached to his head, and if anyone saw him he was sure he would look like a fool. The normally obscure and grouchy Daryl appeared giddy as he stepped towards his human lifeline, his footsteps uncoordinated as he felt the ache in his side brew.

At the sound of shuffling fabric behind her, y/n’s head whipped around, she knew better than to just assume that there was no danger that could appear out of nowhere. Even with the serene tranquility that was deranging her viewpoint from the world that had began feasting on itself, there was always the risk that getting too comfortable would end in death. And Daryl smirked at the sight of the blade that shone from the sun in her hand.

“Thought you were a walker you ass!” She exclaimed, her mouth widening in a teeth baring smile. Her blade was placed back in its hiding spot as she felt the need to aid Daryl in seating himself next to her, her palm remaining against his bare arm. “I kicked Andrea’s ass after her shit shot, told her to get Herschel check her eyesight.” Daryl shook his head lightly as to not cause any more disturbance to his injury, promptly nudging her with his shoulder as he allowed himself to laugh at her protective demeanour towards the blonde.

“Yer real funny sunshine.” His rare smile was prominent as he endearingly looked at his girl, wrapping his arm around the back of her relaxed shoulder blades as he brought her closer. But close was still not close enough. “C’mere.” Daryl agilely helped her climb onto his lap, the place he reserved solely for her, his rough yet tender hands remaining on her hips as he brought his face near to y/n’s, rubbing their noses together in a sweet eskimo kiss.

He was exhausted, and he felt like a failure, but she was the only comfort that he needed. Her form was facing his own, and she brushed her featherlight fingertips against his cheekbones, sparing a glare to the dressing. “We’ll find her.” She whispered gently, shutting her eyelids as she melted into him. “But for now you need to rest honey, I’m not having you wear yourself into the ground.” His head rested against her collarbone, inhaling her presence as he tried not to be frustrated with himself.

It wasn’t his fault that Sophia had ran for her life off of the highway, and he wasn’t guilt for being unable to find anything other than her stuffed toy. His hands ran up and down y/n’s back as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, finally taking a break from his daily searching. He just needed his girl planted in his lap, and all his qualms and insecurities became minor.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #twd x reader

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sweetlyskz · 1 year ago

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Emerald Gem||Chapter Five

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight||Chapter nine|Chapter ten (finale!)|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Unedited

"How much longer do we have to keep walking?"

The group was extremely sick and exhausted, walking miles and miles along the forest. When Jimin had no more energy left, the youngest carried him on his back. The pack leader was fearful of the government coming to find them, so during the day they walked nonstop. And when the sun would finally rest, they would rest in the nearest cave or by the tallest tree.

"Until we make it to some water", Joon claimed, ears perked to listen for the closest stream. "I can hear it. We're almost there."

"We wouldn't have had to run, y'know..." Jimin was absentmindedly whispering his thoughts, delirious from lack of sleep.

"I miss her", Tae whined. "And I miss the food, and the comfy bed, and the little chickens..."

Namjoon ignored their complaints, keeping the same pace. He was just as sick and tired as they were, but his love for his pack kept him strong. Now matter how much they tried to convince him to stay, it didn't work. But they couldn't blame him- Namjoon has been burned before.

And he wasn't gonna let it happen again.

Justin didn't like taking the bus. The older kids always made fun of him. Plus, his school was only a couple of minutes away from home if he took the shortcut. So everyday afterschool he would hop the fence behind the school and take left and right turns through the alleyways to get home.

Until one day where he met a little wolf hybrid. Justin had stumbled upon the little guy next to a dumpster in the alley. He was frail and weak looking. His short was torn, his pants were jagged, and the soles of his feet were black.

"Hey little guy", Justin whispered, slowly walking up to the wolf as to not startle him. However it did quite the opposite.

"Please!" He screamed. "I'll go but please don't hurt me!"

With that, Justin backed away. "I'm not gonna hurt you- promise!" The hybrid stood on his feet with haste, getting ready to make a fast exit.

But Justin didn't wanna let him go.

"Are you lost? Do you need some help?" That's when he realized Justin wasn't coming for him- he probably didn't even know who he was.

"N-no. Im f-fine", he whispered, making his way to the kind human who offered to help him. "Just please don't tell anyone I'm here-please." He got down on his knees and pleaded.

"I won't, I swear. But, you can't stay here. Whoever you're hiding from will find you as easily as I did."

The hybrid thought for a second, pondering over his next moves. He's probably been on the run his whole life. His street smarts are probably beyond compare. At least, that's what Justin thought.

"I have nowhere to go..." He whispered. "My family... they're dead. They're all dead- and I'm alone."

It was like looking in a mirror. Justin had found someone just like him. Parentless, scared, afraid. He had a feeling he could help. "You can come stay with me for a while", he offered.

And just like that- he found himself stepping into Justins small apartment. It was cramped, but it's all Justin could afford so he made it work. They lived together for month before Justin finally asked what his name was.

"Namjoon", he replied. "My name is Kim Namjoon, and I'm wanted for murder."

***

Some of the food in your fridge had spoiled. Just to prevent from wasting you walked miles away to the nearest neighbor and gave them all of your leftovers. It been a couple weeks since the guys had left, and you were feeling lost-empty. You knew who they were. You knew what people called him. You knew they were wanted by the government, but it didn't stop you from taking them in.

And even though they hadn't stayed long, it was hard to imagine what life was like without them- especially when you had already imagined a life with them.

When it was time to rest your head, you would walk by their rooms and whisper goodnight. But even though no one was there, the ghost of them always replied back, "goodnight, sweet dreams."

Every now and then you swear you hear laughing downstairs, the sound of Hoseok rolling around in the grassy field, or even the sound of Taehyung flipping the page of a good book. Every now and then, while making dinner, you feel a presence creep up behind you asking "Can I just have one bite? How will I know if it's good if I don't try it?" Jungkook loved to sneak bits of supper before it was ready.

The feeling made you queasy, and it brought tears to your eyes. It made you anxious, so you watched the new every night in hopes that they hadn't been caught. Because, even though they didn't want to stay with you, you sure as hell weren't going to let the researchers have them.

You had already made that mistake once before.

Your birthday party was absolutely amazing! Your friends were there, all of your family came. Even the gifts were memorable. However, something was missing. Your nine year old self couldn't put your finger on it, but something seemed off about that day. It felt as though you were at someone else's birthday party, like the party wasn't for you.

If wasn't until you got older that you realized that it was true- it wasn't technically your birthday party. It was your birthday- that part it true. However, the party was your father's. It was your father's friends, it was their children. They were never your friends. No one would even notice if you weren't there.

So you left.

By your house was a lake, a peaceful lake where all you could hear was the wind blowing through the trees. That's where you snuck off to that night. That's where you met Mina. She was a wolf- the most beautiful wolf you might ever have seen (the only wolf at that time). Her fur was pure white with specks of gray, and her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. One might've been afraid of her, but you certainly were not. She could tell.

"You come here often, Don't you?" The wolf could speak. For some reason, that didn't scare you either. "From the trees, I notice you come hear to wipe your tears. What's bothering you?"

"I'm alone", you whispered, audibly enough for her to hear. "I don't think I'm supposed to exist. All the signs point against it." You laid in the grass, picking piece to fiddle with. Telling your secrets to a total stranger wasn't the best option. But for you, it was the only option.

"Don't speak such words", she scolded. "Close your eyes. I wanna show you a secret."

You obeyed, shutting your eyes as tight as you could. Out of nowhere, great winds blew and the ground shook.

"Now, open."

She was gone. She vanished, right in front of you. The wolf had vanished, and what replaced it was even more beautiful. Her hair was silver. Her eyes were green. She clothed her self in leaves- fitted like a dress.

"Happy birthday, pup", she smiled. Your eyes began to shed tears. She was the first person to wish you happy birthday- Not even your parents did so.

"T-thank you", you sniffled. "I'm Y/n." She patted your head, the same way your mother once did. It was comforting. Here she was, a total stranger, and she's given you more attention than your mother has in a long time. It entranced you, to the point of laying your head on her

"I know", She sighed. "The nights not going so well, is it?"

You nodded. "When does it ever? I'm nine and feel like I'm an adult- so much I haven't done with so much responsibility."

Daciana was her name, a quite beautiful name. You told her all your fears and she held you close. She comforted you when no one else would.

You will never forgive yourself for what happened to her...

***

The cave was cold, almost icy. Jin wanted to light a fire but Joon was strongly against it. "That'll make us an easy target", he scolded.

Jimin laid flat on his back, having no neck or back support. He thought of you. What are you doing right now? What may you be wearing? He dreamed of the dinner you might be cooking.

Does she even care that we're gone?

Jungkook was trying his best to keep Hobi's fever down, but it continued to rise. Taehyung was in excruciating pain. Yoongi was absolutely delirious and Joon could hardly breathe, choosing the solid ground as the best place to rest.

"Joon, we can't go on like this", Jin begged. It hurt him to see his pack in so much pain. It hurt even more to know the cause of it was his pack alpha.

He heaved, trying to get back on his two feet with no avail. "What else can we do? The minute we think we're safe, we'll will be taken. You know this! Where can we possibly go?"

"Back home", Jimin mumbled, using the last bits of his energy. "I wanna go back home, to Y/n."

"Me too", Kook whispered just audible enough to hear. The rest of the pack agreed, sharing their sentiments- everyone except Namjoon. While everyone whined and groaned, he laughed exasperatedly.

"Are you guys serious? She would've turned us over to the authors the minute she found out who we really are! How many times do I have to tell you this? You cannot trust humans."

Jin was fed up. He was sick, exhausted, and lonely. And he was done following orders.

"What do you think you're doing?" The pack watched Jin as he put Jimin on his back, heading towards the entrance of the cave.

"We're going home, Joon..." Jimin struggled to keep his eyes open, but a smile was plastered on his face. It was hard to miss his excitement, even if it was a little hard for him to express. "Anyone who wants to come can come, but I'm tired of living in fear."

He continued, pointing towards his alpha. "Let me know when you're done too. You know where to find us."

And with that, the six pack member left the dark and empty cave, leaving Namjoon alone with his thoughts.

What am I gonna do now? He thought.

Taglist!

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#kpop #bts #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts x reader #kpop smut #bts smut #kim seokjin #bts fanfction #jeon jungguk #park jimin #poly ot7 #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts ot7 #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts series

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pretty-red-garnet · 1 year ago

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Cracked Lips Give The Best Kisses

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • Prison • Fluff

Thank you so much for the request @cant-help-simping! I really enjoyed writing this one, so I hope you like reading it. Also, I know I have one more request, but I’m writing a part 2 to Brothers and having wayyy too much fun. So that’ll probably be out first lol.

Daryl was an observer. He was always looking, even if nobody noticed. That was especially true when it came to you, his partner, his lover, his light. 'Girlfriend' never seemed like the correct term when it came to you. It was too simple, not strong enough to define the bond he has with you.

One day, when he was lying next to you in your shared cot, he had confessed to you that you were the one good thing in his life. That you're the light in his life that keeps him going. It made his stomach flip, being so open and vulnerable to another person. But then, you smiled so brightly and beautifully. He makes sure to call you sweet names all the time now, even if it makes his face flush and his throat dry.

Daryl's always watching, and as of late, it seems his light is dimming. You've been busier lately, more responsibilities. The prison was thriving after taking in the people of Woodbury, and that was thanks to you and the council you were apart of. You helped to plan runs, scout places to check, devise ways to keep the fence secure and walkers away. You were pretty much wherever people needed help. You're always a holler away.

And it's taking everyone out of you.

Daryl could see it. How drained you are at the end of the day. Or how you almost never have time to join him on hunts or supply runs, because you're too busy planning the next one. How maps and planners took up too much of your side of the nightstand. Perhaps the most obvious detail to Daryl was how your lips had been in even rougher shape lately.

Your habit was one of the first things Daryl noticed about you. Even back when he first met you at the quarry, your lips always seemed to be bitten and cracked, even though you always had some flavored lip balm sticking out of your pocket.

It seemed to happen most when you weren't realizing. When your head was stuck in a book, or when you were thinking deeply and zoning out, your fingers would always make their way to pick at your lips. Your fingers would run over the cracked skin until they were bleeding and blood was clinging to the underside of your nails.

They were bad on the road, after the farm had gone up in flames. It was a dry winter, undoubtedly making you lips even more rough. The stress of everything made you resort to picking at them even more. It was a nasty, viscous cycle. Daryl had always made sure to give you chapsticks when he found them in gas stations.

You, and your lips, got much better for a short time. The short time of peace, after the battle with the governor, but before your responsibilities began to pile on and drown you.

Even now, your picking and biting at your dry lips while laying in bed with him. There's a fresh sore right in the middle of your bottom lip, and you absentmindedly pick at in as you write notes in your planner. Daryl can see fresh blood droplets form, quickly sticking to the skin on your thumb.

"You're doin' it again," Daryl says, quietly not to disturb others that may be sleeping in the nearby cells. It's late now.

You don't answer. Your brows furrow and you let out an aggravated sigh as you scratch something out on your planner. Daryl huffs, gently pulling your fingers from your lips.

"What?" You ask. You look at Daryl beside you, and you almost look like you just remembered he was there.

"Pickin' at your damn lips again." He swipes his thumb over your lip, gently and lovingly. You smile and kiss his thumb lightly. "Have you been usin' that chapstick?"

You hum and smile sheepishly at him. Daryl huffs again, narrowing his eyes.

"Well I finished one, and I had another but I gave it to Beth." You shrug.

"You gotta stop puttin' everyone else before you," he complains. You scoff and playfully poke his side.

"Look who's talking." He rolls his eyes. "Mr. 'I'm immune doing anything for myself' Dixon." He nudges you with his elbow.

"Yeah, yeah smartass." He plucks the planner from your hands and lays it on your side table, ignoring your annoyed 'hey!' "Time for sleep. You can work more tomorrow."

You sigh again, and open your mouth to argue, but you can’t when Daryl yanks you down the bed by your hips. You giggle when your head meets the pillow, staring up at Daryl towering above you.

Daryl leans down and kisses your lips softly, not wanting to irritate what he is sure is already a painful set of lips. You hum into his mouth, pulling him onto you further by his shoulders. Your fingertips caress the scars on his back, but he doesn't mind. He leans back and looks into your eyes.

"I love you," he says, lowly. His fingers brush against your cheek, his callouses slightly scratch at your smooth skin.

"I love you, too," you say, smiling as bright as the sun.

Daryl gets up from the bed slowly and carefully, trying his best not to wake you. It's early, the dim light of the early morning sun can ever so slightly be seen through the curtain that's working as a door to the cell.

Daryl gets dressed quickly and quietly. He's just throwing on a shirt when he hears you stir. He pauses and looks at you just in time for you to open your eyes. They're bleary and you rub them and look at Daryl confused.

"Where're you going? It's early," you ask, voice quiet and sleep ridden.

"Run. I'll be back in a few hours," he says in a whisper, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You smile, nod sleepily and settle back into your pillow. Daryl's lip quirks at the sight, and turns towards the cell door.

"Wait," you say, sounding more awake. "You don't have a run today. The next scheduled run isn't for three days from now." Daryl juts his chin towards the nightstand.

"Check your planner." You eye him scrutinizingly and sit up, grabbing your planner from the table. You flip open the book to the correct date, narrowing your eyes when you see the written notes on the page.

"Really?" You ask, turning the book to show Daryl. On the planner, below your neat and concise letters, is anything but your handwriting.

In a messy, chicken scratch like scrawl, is two words. 'Supply run.' No notes next to it, no details, not even a location. Just Daryl's messy handwriting. The difference in handwritings and planning details on the page is more drastic than night and day.

"Where are you really going?" You ask again, your brows furrowed in a questioning manner. Daryl shrugs.

"Like your book says." You click your tongue at him. If your eyes were any more narrow, they'd be closed completely.

"Uh huh," you hum, crossing your arms. "Are you cheating on me? Is it a hot date you're going on?" Your tone is teasing, a smirk on your lips.

"Yeah, she's a real looker, too."

"I bet." Daryl hums and takes a seat on the bed, making you curl your legs up for him to have room.

"She's real sexy," he begins. "Slick, too. She makes my heart race, and she's got this great body." Daryl sighs. "Only thing, she's pretty loud."

You look confused. Your mouth is slightly agape, the small cuts on your lips on full display. Suddenly, it's like something hits you, and you tilt your head at him.

"Daryl," you start, a slight sigh after. "Are you describing your bike to me right now?"

Daryl's lips pull to a smirk. You shake your head, a smile bursting to your face. You laugh and smack his shoulder lightly, pushing him off the bed.

"You're ridiculous!" You exclaim once he's off the bed. "Ok, go on your hot date with your bike." You giggle again, getting cozy under the covers. Daryl bends at the waist to give you a long kiss to the cheek. He pulls away after a moment and smooths your hair back.

"I'll be back soon," he says, standing completely and taking a step towards the door.

"Be careful," you say, tired eyes already starting to shut.

"Always am."

Daryl's back at the prison a few hours later. As it turns out, the items he was trying to find proved to be quite difficult to locate. He refused to go back empty handed, so he made a few extra stops. By the time he made it back, the sun was just beginning to dip behind the tree line, the sky an array of pinks and oranges.

He clutches a brown paper bag under his arm and makes his way to you. He makes a quick pit stop to the area of the cell block that's used as a kitchen, handing off a couple small items to Beth.

The girl is playing with Judith on the floor, who's laughing and fumbling with Carl's hat. Beth smiles brightly at Daryl and gives him her thanks. He just tilts his head in a quick nod and climbs up the stairs to your shared cell.

"Daryl!" You exclaim. You're standing in the middle of the small room, probably just paused from pacing. "Where have you been? God, I was worried." You briskly walk to him to grab him in a strong hug.

"'M sorry," he mutters into your hair. "Thought I'd be quicker." You nod into his chest before pulling back.

"Where were you?" Daryl retracts his arm from around your back to retrieve the brown bag under his arm. He hands it to you with a shy half-smile.

You grab the bag, a puzzled look on your face. It's a small, brown paper bag, the kind used by pharmacies for giving out medication. Except this one has a large, tacky looking red bow stuck haphazardly to the center to hold the bag closed.

"What's this?" You ask. Daryl shrugs.

"S'for you. Open it up," he encourages. You look at him with an adorable little frown. He nudges the bag. "Come on."

You give him one last glance before finally opening the bag. You push back the folded top and peer into it, your mouth parts. You look up at Daryl with a shocked expression.

You move to your bed and pour the contents out on the mattress. The center of the mattress fills with the gifts. There's lip balms, glosses, oils. Lip masks, sugar scrubs, hydrating ointments. They all come in an array of flavors, and some are even tinted.

"Daryl... I don't even know what to say," you mutter, in shock staring at the pile of lip care items on the bed. You turn to him, a huge smile on your face. Daryl shrugs, embarrassed by your reaction.

"Don't gotta say nothin'." You shake your head, rushing to him to throw your arms around his shoulders. He returns the embrace immediately, smiling into your hair.

"You didn't have to do all that," you say, pressed against his chest. "But thank you." You lift your head to look into his eyes.

"Welcome." You brush your hand through his overgrown hair, pushing back the strays that obscure his face. "And I gave some to Beth already, so don't be givin' those away."

"Ok," you say with a little scoff. "Deal, I won't, I promise." You bring your fingers down to caress his cheek before pulling away.

You pick through the pile before snatching up a lip oil. It's clear, and it smells like vanilla. You put some on, rub your lips together, and smack your lips dramatically. You turn to Daryl with a big grin.

"How does it look?" You ask, puckering your lips teasingly at him.

"Looks great," he says, a smirk forming. "But I'd rather see how it tastes."

You roll your eyes, but the smile playing on your shimmery lips shows you aren’t annoyed in the slightest. You oblige to Daryl, stepping over to him to plant a big, loving, sticky kiss to his lips.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff

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suzukiblu · 1 month ago

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WIP excerpt for videogeek; Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

And then something far away rumbles. Kara looks up reflexively; swivels her head towards the sound. Kal doesn’t react–maybe his ears aren’t good enough yet–but neither do Ma or Pa. She . . . frowns. The windows are . . .

Ma’s put–wood, she thinks? she thinks it’s wood–over all the windows behind the curtains. She hadn’t noticed at first, with the sky all gray and clouded; she’d thought that was why there wasn’t any light coming in through them. But . . .

Why would she block off the windows? Is something dangerous out there? Some . . . wild animal or something? Is that why Pa brought them in early, because there’s something dangerous in the area? Or–someone, maybe?

She doesn’t know if the aliens have problems with criminals or raiders–she hasn’t seen any sign of that yet–but maybe they do. They are awfully far out, and she’s never seen any obvious Warriors around to protect either the farm or Smoll-Veel, so . . .

“Ka-Lair?” Pa asks–or Kara thinks he’s asking, anyway. It’s hard to tell sometimes, with how flat the alien’s voices and language both are. She hears the rumbling again, far-off and alien, and it makes her uneasy. “Kara?”

“Noy-say,” she tries to say, hoping it means “sound”; hoping Ma and Pa will understand what she’s asking. Is it an engine? Hoofbeats? Some raiders’ ship, or an approaching stampede?

Is it coming this way?

“Yuu heer ey noy-say, Mar-Tha?” Pa asks Ma, who looks puzzled and shakes her head. Kal fusses for more “cob-urr”, but–is it safe? Is he safe? Why are the windows all blocked up, and what’s–

The rumble sounds again, louder.

Louder, and closer.

Kara–doesn’t like that. She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t recognize the sound, and it’s coming closer, and Pa closed up the barn and the animals and brought them in early and Ma’s closed up the house just the same, she’s realizing, and also brought out all these unfamiliar things and that strange rustic machine, and the farm’s fences aren’t enough to stand up to a raiders’ ship or a stampede, and if there’s any other security systems she doesn’t know what they are or how well they work, and–

The rumble comes again, and it’s loud. Kal lets out an alarmed squeak, then knells in distress. Kara scoops him up into her lap as she tenses, her eyes staying fixed on the boarded-up windows facing the distant rumbling. She can’t even see anything through them, but it feels like she can’t look away.

“Ah,” Pa says, and comes over to pat her shoulder. “Jes thunn-darr, Kara. Ayn-tuh kno-thinn tah wurr-ree buh-out.”

She doesn’t know those words. Or at least, she doesn’t know what Pa means. He and Ma say “dun wurr-ree” sometimes when she’s trying to help, and she’s heard “kno-thinn” and “jes” and “tah” and “buh-out” all plenty of times, and they say “ayn-tuh” a lot, but she doesn’t know what any of them mean.

And she doesn’t remember ever hearing either of them say “thunn-darr” before.

#kara zor el #clark kent #ma and pa kent #superfamily #supergirl #superman #wip: kara gets to earth on time #videogeek

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ltwilliammowett · 2 months ago

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Excavation of the Oseberg Ship 1904

On 8 August 1903, the archaeologist Gabriel Gustafson received a visit from Oskar Rom, a farmer who had dug into a large burial mound on his property and had come across the remains of a ship. The special thing about this ship - it is the grave of two women from the year 834 AD.

Two days later Professor Gustafson started his investigations at the farm of Lille Oseberg at Slagen in the county of Vestfold. He found several parts of a ship, decorated with ornamentation from the Viking era.

The archaeologist was certain that the mound was a ship burial from Viking times. But to avoid problems with the autumn weather, the archaeologists waited until the following summer before starting the dig in earnest. The excavation of the Oseberg mound was of great interest to the public.

The dig had to be secured with a fence, signs and a guard to ensure that nobody interrupted the work or came too close to the objects. In his diary, Gustafson complains about being on show when heworked.

When the excavation was completed, the most time-consuming and demanding work was still to come. Although the excavation itself took less than three months, it took 21 years to prepare and restore the ship and most of the finds.

The ship was dried out very slowly before it was put together. Great emphasis was placed on using the original timber where possible. Today over 90 per cent of the reconstructed Oseberg ship consists of original timber.

#naval history #naval artifacts #oseberg ship #viking ship #early 20th century #excavation #8th century ad #medieval seafaring

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ak319 · 27 days ago

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Hello, I love your writing so much, if you can do so, could you please write a Yandere!Arthur Morgan x infant daughter reader where he's a papa bear to her, and he finds out she's being bullied by other kids in school. Ofc familial /platonic please

Thank you and hope you have a great day!

AN: moi heart AGH! Cute!! Tsym btw! (^///^) Warnings/MDNI: None, jus' fluff fluff nd' fluff! A little angst, bullying +++ Arthur is 30, Modern AU🍼 tag list: @nayykura @shackspossum @whalecage

Arthur's ears perked at the sound of your soft burp, a tiny noise that brought a tired but satisfied smile to his face. Finally. One of the trickiest tasks, but one he wouldn’t trade for the world. He adjusted his grip on you, gently patting your small back, his broad hand covering you almost entirely. Rocking in his old chair, the rhythmic creak matching his soft coos and steady breathing, he lulled you into a peaceful slumber, and before long, he drifted off too.

After a long, grueling day this was what grounded him. You were his balm, his anchor, the only thing keeping him steady after everything he’d been through. Holding you brought him a peace he never thought he’d feel again.

Stirring awake, he carefully laid you on the bed, making sure to stack pillows securely on the empty side. Then he stretched out beside you, his rugged face softening as he traced the curve of your cheek with a rough, calloused finger. He couldn’t resist placing featherlight kisses on your tiny forehead and rosy cheeks, his heart swelling with a love so fierce and pure it almost hurt

He couldn’t be more grateful for your presence. Just you, him, and this quiet farmhouse nestled in a peaceful community. The same family farmhouse he had nearly sold, back when everything seemed simpler, before life turned upside down.

Then he almost lost it all. Your mother, his wife (M/N), taken from him in a senseless tragedy during his time as a cop. The memory still felt like a jagged wound, one that would never fully heal. By some miracle, you had been spared, untouched by the violence that claimed her. God knows what he would have done if… if something had happened to you too. The thought alone twisted his stomach into knots. He knew he wouldn’t have survived it, he would’ve lost himself entirely.

So, he made a choice. He left it all behind after ensuring the culprits got caught and sentenced. The city, the job, the chaos. He packed up what was left of his life and came here, to the farm. Away from those dangerous, vengeful people who had shattered his family.

He wasn’t alone in the transition. His childhood best friend, John, stood by his side, helping him find his footing in this new chapter. With John’s support, he rebuilt, trading badges and bullets for the quiet rhythm of rural life. Now, he works from home as a graphic designer, balancing his new career with the role that means the most to him: being your father.

The move to the farmhouse was no easy feat, but Arthur didn’t care about the logistics, his top priority was you. Arthur let only Abigail watch over you while he handled the chaos of packing and unpacking. He didn’t trust babysitters, no way in hell. He’d heard enough horror stories from folks and read about things in the news that made his blood boil. The idea of leaving you with a stranger wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was unthinkable.

The only person he trusted was Abigail. “You’re family, and you’ve got Jack, so you know how it is,” he’d said when asking her to keep an eye on you. His version of breathing was checking in every ten minutes, asking Abigail if you’d eaten, slept, or cried. Even when he knew you were safe, his mind wouldn’t rest until he saw you again.

The farm itself had seen its fair share of upgrades, some subtle, others impossible to miss. The once-simple property now stood fortified with long, reinforced fences and modern electric security gates. The kind designed to deliver a harmless but sharp jolt to anything attempting to breach them, ensuring no unwelcome visitors, human or otherwise, made it in.

Security cameras were mounted everywhere, their lenses scanning every corner of the property without missing a spot. Arthur had spent weeks installing them, triple-checking blind spots until there were none.

And for those thinking of trying their luck? Booby traps, carefully concealed and strategically placed, added an extra layer of insurance. He hadn’t been sure at first, was that going too far?--but the idea of anyone getting past his defenses to threaten you erased any hesitation.

Inside, the house was an entirely different kind of fortress. Childproofing was everywhere, every sharp corner was padded, and cabinets latched tight.

Then there was the basement. What was once a dusty, forgotten space had been transformed into a stockpile, his grandfather’s old cavalry arsenal, now fully restocked and meticulously maintained. The weapons had been relics from a long-forgotten outlaw era, but Arthur saw them as a necessity. A last resort. If anyone dared to cross that line, they’d find out the hard way what kind of man they were dealing with.

Because nothing, nothing, was more important than keeping you safe.

❀˖°

“Hey--no, no-" Arthur picked you up, his glare faltering under the effort to stay stern. “You don’t claw or brawl with Pa’ on this matter, miss.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement as your legs thrashed in the air. 'Aren't you a tiny feral adorable kid---no be strict , Arthur-'

' “You, ma’am, are going in the tub-”

“WAIT! I’ll go myself!” you blurted, words tumbling out so fast they were practically gibberish. But Arthur, seasoned in the art of decoding your toddler babble, understood every syllable.

“Fine,” he huffed, setting you back down and straightening up with his hands on his hips. He gave you a look that screamed, I’m watching you.

Your eyes darted everywhere but to him. “Um-kay!,” you muttered with exaggerated determination, shuffling your feet as if preparing for the world’s longest journey.

“1,” you started.

“2…”

“um..4? 3-”

“You ain’t counting to ten for the tenth time, young lady. That’s it.” Before you could stage another dramatic delay, he swooped you up mid-mock-Olympian stance and plopped you straight into the tub.

“NOOOOOOO! NOT FAIR! you wailed, your indignation echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Nothing’s fair in baths and bedtimes,” he said with a grin, rolling up his sleeves. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, Bunny.”

❀˖°

Arthur set the plates and a steaming dish of soup and garlic bread on the table, his ears perking up as your voice carried in through the open window, accompanied by Mouse’s sharp barks. His German shepherd was stationed outside, a necessity for security, Arthur didn’t trust Mouse’s temperament indoors, and keeping the dog outside served as both a deterrent and a watchful guardian.

He glanced out and spotted you with a ball, your tiny frame dwarfed by the expanse of the yard. His jaw tightened. What’d I say about being out at this hour?

He stalked to the lawn without hesitation, his boots crunching against the gravel. He scooped you up without warning, setting you on his hip like you weighed nothing.

“When it’s near dusk, you are to be inside, you get inside without me needing to remind and call you every time,” he said, his voice firm, though not unkind. “Why do I always have to repeat myself?”

“I was gonna come, Pa’!” you protested, squirming slightly. Jeez, he needs to loosen up sometimes.

Arthur stopped, fixing you with a look that left no room for argument. “Some things I say are meant to be words on stone, you hear me? No arguing, Bug.”

He set you down gently but guided you firmly toward the house, casting one last glance at the fence and Mouse, whose ears twitched as if sensing Arthur’s unease.

❀˖°

The early morning mist still clung to the fields as Arthur loaded up the old truck, a fishing pole in the back, tackle box rattling as he slid it into place. The air was crisp, the scent of pine and fresh earth mingling with the faint smell of dew on the grass. You sat in the passenger seat, your legs swinging with excitement as you clutched your little fishing hat, a hand-me-down from Arthur that was still a bit too big for your head.

The drive to the lake was peaceful, the old truck rumbling along the dirt road as the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees. The lake, just a short distance from the farm, was quiet this time of morning, still and calm, with only the occasional ripple as the wind stirred the water.

Arthur parked the truck by the shore and hopped out, stretching his arms over his head. He opened the back, grabbing your tiny fishing rod first, a smaller one he had made sure to get just for you. He handed it over, his large hands carefully guiding yours to the handle.

“You know what to do, Bug?” he asked, crouching down to your level, his tone soft but serious.

You nodded, eyes gleaming with determination. “I throw it in, wait, then reel it in, Pa’!”

“Good girl,” he said, pride swelling in his chest. “But remember, patience is key. The fish don’t always bite right away.”

You gave him a mock serious look, puffing out your chest. “I can be patient.”

Arthur smiled and ruffled your hair before picking up his own rod. Together, you both walked to the edge of the water, the soft crunch of grass underfoot. He demonstrated how to cast his line, showing you the way to swing the rod before releasing it into the water. You watched carefully, eyes focused on the movement, and then it was your turn.

Arthur stood behind you, guiding your hands as you swung the rod and released the line, the soft splash of it hitting the water echoing in the quiet morning. You let out a little cheer, stepping back to wait.

“Good job, Bug. Now we wait.”

You sat down on the grassy shore, your legs dangling, and Arthur followed suit, sitting close enough that he could keep an eye on you but still giving you the space to enjoy the moment. The world seemed so still here, only the sounds of the water lapping gently at the shore and the occasional bird call filling the air.

Minutes passed. Arthur cast his line again, his concentration on the ripples in the water, but he always kept an ear out for you. You were so quiet, so focused on the task at hand, that he couldn’t help but smile.

“Pa’?” you asked after a while, your voice soft but curious.

“Yeah, Bug?”

“Can we do this every month!?”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at you, his chest tight with love. “Of course, Bug. We’ll always fish together, whenever you want.”

You beamed, your little fingers still wrapped around the fishing rod, staring out at the lake with a peaceful contentment that mirrored his own.

And then, as if on cue, there was a tug on the line. You gasped, your eyes wide, and Arthur was there in a flash, his strong hands guiding yours as you struggled to reel it in.

“Got it, Bug! Reel it in, slow and steady. You’ve got this.”

You grinned, your little arms straining against the weight of the fish, the excitement in your eyes contagious. Arthur stood close, his hands still hovering just in case, but he could see you were doing it all on your own.

With a final pull, you brought the fish to the shore, Arthur helping you hold it up for a brief moment, both of you staring at the wriggling catch.

“We did it!” you cheered, jumping up and down with excitement.

Arthur laughed, lifting you up into his arms. “You did it, Bug. You caught the first one. I’m proud of you.”

You giggled, your face flushed with happiness. “We’re gonna have fish for lunch! YAY!👹 "

Arthur laughed, holding you close. “Yeah, we will. And we’re gonna have a lot more days just like this.”

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you both spent the rest of the morning fishing, the peaceful quiet of the lake wrapping around you like a blanket. Every now and then, Arthur would catch a fish of his own, but it was clear which one of you was the real star of the day.

❀˖°

One evening, as usual, Arthur sat at his desk, working on his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his focused face. You were sitting nearby, playing quietly, but after a moment, you turned to him, your small brow furrowed in thought.

“Pa,” you asked, your voice soft but filled with curiosity, “why don’t I have a mommy like Jack? Like the ones on T. V. ?”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting for this question, dreading it, but he knew it was time to answer. He paused for a moment, setting his laptop aside, and turned to face you, his expression gentle.

“Well, Bug,” he started, his voice warm and tender, “you know how some kids have two parents, right? They’re like a big team, helpin' each other out. But you,” he said with a wink, “you’re extra special. Sometimes, God decides one parent is all a kid needs. Just one, but that one’s enough to love ‘em, protect ‘em, and make sure they’re always happy.”

He leaned down to your level, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “And that’s you, sweetheart. You got me, and I got you. We’re a team too, just the two of us.”

You blinked, absorbing his words, and a small smile tugged at your lips. Arthur ruffled your hair affectionately, the worry in his chest easing as he saw you begin to understand.

“Some kids might need a bigger team, but not you. You’re my girl, and I’m all you need, ain’t that right?”

You nodded slowly, your eyes lighting up with trust and love. Arthur smiled, his heart full. “You don’t need a mommy to be loved, Bug. You’ve got all the love you could ever need, right here with me.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, feeling your little arms wrap around him. “And I’m gonna love you forever, no matter what.”

❀˖°

Arthur couldn't believe how quickly time had passed. One moment, it seemed like you were still a tiny thing, curled up in his arms, and now, the time had come to enroll you in school. He didn't want to let you go. He'd kept you close, always close, and the thought of someone else seeing you, taking care of you, made a cold knot form in his stomach. But he knew John was right. You needed to make friends. You needed to grow.

"Y/N needs to learn how to be around other kids, Arthur," John had said, his voice filled with that well-meaning confidence. "Jack goes to the same school too, so it'll be fine. It's just school. Let her have a chance."

Arthur had reluctantly agreed. He trusted John, mostly, and if Jack was there, well... that was a bit of relief. Still, the idea of you being away from him, surrounded by others, made his chest tighten. He was used to keeping you safe, keeping you all to himself. The thought of someone else influencing you, teaching you things....but he would do this for you.

And so, with his heart heavy but his determination set, Arthur had filled out the papers and enrolled you in school. He kept telling himself it was for your own good, that it would help you grow, make you more confident. Even if it was hard to admit, you were growing up, and he had to let you experience the world outside the walls of their home.

But Arthur knew something else, too. You were shy. You didn't like being around other people, especially strangers. He'd always been there to protect you, to shield you from the world outside. But now, the world would be coming to you.

As he walked you to school for the first time, his hand lingering a little too long on your shoulder, he whispered softly, "You stick close to brother Jack, alright? If you need any help, you go to him. You don’t need anyone else. Just him, just me, and you. No one else matters."

You gave him a shy nod, looking up at him with those wide eyes that always seemed to need reassurance. Arthur smiled down at you, brushing a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

"Good girl. And don’t let anyone take advantage of you.”

❀˖°

“You eat your lunch today?” Arthur asked, his tone casual but observant, as you stood in front of him with your hands tucked behind your back.

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Uh-huh!”

Arthur opened the lunchbox, finding it spotless inside, not a crumb left. For a moment, he felt a spark of pride, was he really lucky enough to have a kid who finished her lunch every single day? But then, something about your overly innocent expression made him pause. He set the lunchbox down and folded his arms, tilting his head.

“So,” he said, setting the lunchbox down and crossing his arms, “how was it?”

“Hmm?” You glanced up at him.

“The sandwich,” he said, watching your reaction closely. “Was it good?”

“Oh, yeah!” you said too brightly. “Really yummy.”

Arthur tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “What did I make again? Just slipped my mind.”

“Uh… peanut butter and jam?” you mumbled.

Arthur’s jaw tightened, though his expression stayed calm. He crouched down to your level, his presence steady and unyielding. “You sure about that, darlin’? Because I know I packed you a chicken and cheese sandwich this mornin’.”

You froze, the color draining from your face.

He sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Now, you and I both know you didn’t eat that sandwich. So why don’t you go on and tell me what really happened?”

You looked down at your shoes, your voice trembling. “I… I was going to eat it, but some kids… they took it.”

Arthur’s heart sank, though his expression remained calm for your sake. He reached out and gently lifted your chin so you had to meet his eyes. “They took it?”

You nodded, biting your lip as tears threatened to spill. “I told them to stop, but… but they wouldn’t give it back. They laughed and said it wasn’t m-ine anymore.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Bug,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “you listen to me. No one, and I mean no one, gets to treat you like that. You understand?”

You sniffled, nodding against his shoulder.

“They got names, these kids?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with a steel promise that this wasn’t going to be ignored.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. Then, in a barely audible whisper, you murmured a few names.

Arthur nodded, his jaw tightening. “Alright. I’ll deal with ‘em. You ain’t gotta worry about that anymore.”

As he reached out to hold your hand, his fingers brushed against a faint redness across your skin. He stilled, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but Arthur held it gently, his thumb brushing over the red mark. “Bug,” he said, his tone dropping to that low, firm register that always made you listen. “Who did this to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you sniffled. “It... it was the teacher,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Arthur blinked, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “The teacher?” he repeated, his tone deceptively calm, though you could feel the storm brewing beneath it.

“I told her about the kids taking my lunch,” you explained, your words coming in halting gasps. “She... she said I was tattling and hit me with a ruler for ‘causing trouble.’”

Arthur’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, but only for a moment.

Arthur stood so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Get your shoes on, Bug. We’re going to the school.”

“But-”

"No buts. No one lays a hand on my girl, now c'mon, Pa’s got somethin’ he needs to take care of."

The sound of Arthur’s boots echoed ominously in the otherwise quiet hallway as he strode toward the principal’s office, his expression carved from stone. His hand hovered protectively over your shoulder as he guided you along.

The principal looked up as Arthur entered, his usual composure faltering at the sight of the respectable ex-cop's stormy glare.

“Mr. Morgan,” the principal began, forcing a tight smile, “is there-”

Arthur didn’t wait for pleasantries. “There a reason my daughter came home with a red welt on her hand?” he demanded, his voice low but seething.

The principal blinked, momentarily caught off guard “I--I’m not sure what you mean-”

“She told me her teacher hit her,” Arthur interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut. “With a ruler. After she reported kids stealin’ her lunch. That’s what I mean.”

“Well, if a teacher disciplined her, I’m sure-”

Arthur stepped forward, leaning over the desk, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You think layin’ a hand on my girl is ‘discipline’? You call ignorin’ the bullies and punishin’ the victim a job well done?

“We have rules about-”

Arthur leaned forward, his presence towering even as he kept his voice level. “You got rules about discipline, huh? How about rules about protectin’ kids?! Or do you only enforce the ones that let you blame the victim!?”

“Mr. Morgan, I understand you’re upset-”

“Upset doesn’t cover it,” Arthur snapped, his voice rising slightly. “My girl’s been comin’ home hungry because you let bullies run wild. And now she’s got a bruise on her arm because she finally got tired of takin’ it? You think that’s how you run a school? By punishin’ the one kid who’s just tryin’ to eat her damn lunch in peace? Because if that’s how you run this place, we got a bigger problem than I thought.”

The principal held up his hands, visibly nervous. “I assure you, Mr. Morgan, we take such incidents seriously. I’ll speak to the teacher and-”

“No, you’ll do more than SPEAK!" Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, you’ll make sure she’s held accountable. And while you’re at it, you’ll deal with those bullies, too. My daughter’s been hungry three times this week because of them, and now she’s got a mark on her hand for speakin’ up?! That ends today.”

“Of course, of course,” the principal stammered. “I’ll handle it immediately.”

Arthur straightened, his gaze never wavering. “You’d better. You’re gonna deal with those bullies and that damned teacher, properly. And you’re gonna make damn sure no one here ever lays a hand on my daughter again. Otherwise, I’ll be takin’ this to the school board, the police, and anyone else who’ll listen. You got no idea what I can do. You got me? You’ll be answerin’ to me."

He turned, placing a reassuring hand on your back as he guided you out of the office. As soon as you were outside, he crouched down and looked you in the eye.

“You did the right thing, Bug,” he said softly. “And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. But you leave dealin’ with grown-ups to me, alright? Nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

“Now, let’s go home,” he said, ruffling your hair. “We’ll make somethin’ good for dinner and figure out how to make sure this never happens again.

❀˖°

“So... no school?” you asked hesitantly, peering up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, and sighed. “No, Bug. You’re still gonna study--but at home, alright?”

He could already hear John’s voice nagging in his head, telling him he was being too overprotective, that keeping you out of school might isolate you further. But Arthur dismissed it. You were still so young, still figuring out the world, and he decided what was best for you. Nobody else.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he said firmly, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over your hair. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go back there to get hurt again. Not by kids who don’t know how to act, not by some teacher who should’ve never had a classroom in the first place. You’re my responsibility, and I ain’t lettin’ anybody mess with you like that. Ever again.”

You nodded slowly, relaxing into the bed. His words felt like a shield wrapping around you, and you trusted him entirely.

Arthur watched you settle, his jaw tightening slightly as anger simmered beneath his calm exterior. He’d been right on the edge of losing it, of storming over to those kids’ homes and making their parents pay the price and make them understand what it meant to raise decent human beings. And that teacher? Though fired, it still didn’t sit right with him. The thought of her laying a hand on you made his blood boil. It had taken every cell to control to not blow her brains out.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on you instead of the anger that threatened to bubble over. “I’ll teach you myself,” he said, his tone lighter now as he tried to make you smile. “We don’t need teachers like that, anyway. I’ll make sure you learn plenty, and we’ll even have fun doin’ it.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice small but hopeful.

“Really,” he said, tugging the blanket up around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now, you get some rest, Bug. We’ll figure out all the details in the mornin’.”

❀˖°

After finishing up the dishes and double checking all the doors, Arthur made his way back to your room. He found you sitting at your small desk, scribbling on a piece of paper with intense concentration.

"What’re you workin’ on, Bug?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You looked up, a hint of shyness in your eyes. "A thank-you card," you said quietly.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. "For who?"

"For you." You held up the paper, a drawing of you and him making a cake. Above it, in your wobbly handwriting, it read: "Thank you for being my Pa."

Arthur froze, his chest tightening at the sight. He stepped closer, kneeling beside you to get a better look. "Well, I’ll be..." he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s real nice, darlin’. Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day."

You smiled, a little bashful but proud. "You always take care of me. So, I wanted to make something for you too."

Arthur reached out and gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "You don’t ever have to thank me for that, sweetheart. Lookin’ after you? That’s the best thing I’ll ever do."

You nuzzled into his chest, your small arms wrapping around his neck. "Still. Love you, Pa."

"I love you more, Bug. Always and forever."

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1264doghouse · 4 months ago

Text

Okie pea picker in California picker's camp, March 1937. "I seen our corn dry up and blow over the fence back there in Oklahoma." Photograph by Dorothea Lange for the Farm Security Administration, Library of Congress.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

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AITA because my puppy was destructive and did a lot of damage?

I have a five month old puppy. Since she was five months old I have used a Pet Sitter as she is a puppy and cannot be left unattended. She’s completed puppy training and I’m working through an intermediate obedience class. I’ve lent the Pet Sitter the training manual in the past, so she knows the puppy’s commands and what we are working on.

My partner and I a week off from work so we decided to travel Tuesday - Thursday and Saturday - Sunday. I picked the puppy up Thursday night and brought her back to the Pet Sitter on Saturday afternoon.

On Thursday when I picked up the puppy the Pet Sitter remarked that she didn’t know how I kept a puppy in my apartment without a yard. That the puppy had been running around since 4 am and never got tired. I explained that I walk her and mostly tire her out with mental exercises like training.

The puppy slept most of the day Friday and wasn’t interested in getting up for anything, even food. She seemed completely exhausted and I was worried that the Pet Sitter had overdone it with her. When I dropped her off Saturday I told the Pet Sitter about how tired she’d been but the Pet Sitter didn’t seem concerned.

On Sunday morning the Pet Sitter texted me about how much the puppy loved running around outside in the rain and that she thought the puppy would love to live on a farm.

Sunday afternoon, she texted me saying that my puppy had destroyed her garden. “Hi can you have your roommate come and get the dog? I cannot keep the puppy out of the garden or stop her from destroying the yard.”

By roommate she meant my partner who was with me on vacation out of town. At the time she sent this text my cell phone did not have service and I received this text as well as the others about fifteen ministers later. She sent me pictures of the destroyed garden and a text.

“She literally has chewed up part of the little fence I had around the garden.”

She then sent me several pictures of pictures of my puppy actively chewing on the little fence thing. I felt frustrated that she took pictures rather than telling her to leave it.

She said the damage happened “within 5 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom. She needs a giant farm with cattle or sheep to heard.”

And asked how soon I could pick up the dog. I said we were leaving right away but it was a three hour drive (which ended up being longer due to storms and traffic).

When I got there to pick up the dog she wanted to show me all the damage the dog did and said she left it there like it was so she could show me. I declined because I was scheduled to meet with my puppy’s trainer.

She said she knows it’s not technically my fault but I need to understand she will never watch my puppy again and does not think the puppy is suitable to live in a city and should be on a farm.

I met with my trainer and showed her the texts and pictures and she said that digging and chewing was likely a boredom response. She’s never caused much destruction at my place aside from occasionally chewing things she shouldn’t chew when I wasn’t looking which resulted in me telling her to leave it when I noticed.

I never leave her unattended around the house. She’s kennel trained and if I have to leave her alone even to go to sleep she is in her kennel.

I had no idea she’d destroy the garden, but I also didn’t know the pet sitter had a garden or that she it wasn’t secured in a way to keep dogs out or that she’d leave my puppy unattended.

I’m not sure what how I could have managed the puppy’s behavior since I was not there and hadn’t been there since the day before. I assumed the Pet Sitter knew how to look after puppies since she looks after puppies, and agreed to look after mine and had done so repeatedly.

But I feel guilty about all the damage. The Pet Sitter said she’d done hundreds of dollars of damage to the garden and gotten her into trouble with her landlady for damage done to the yard and vines on the wall.

The Pet Sitter was always really nice. She has everyone call her aunty and called the puppy our baby. She sent puppy home with new toys and gave us a giant gift bag after watching her on Christmas with a new leash and snuffle mats and toys. I’m really sorry the damage happened but I’m not sure what I could have done differently.

https://imgur.com/gallery/ZFkp8ao

The imgur link, clickable

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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cultofdixon · 1 year ago

Text

Keeping an eye on what you love

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A peaceful moment in the prison led to feelings for a certain archer to resurface without fear of the next day. Oh how you didn’t realize until now, how observant one can be • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Canon Violence / Minor Injuries

Requested by: @matilda4eve

You have to stop staring Y/N. It’s getting weird Y/N continued to do so as she sat at the tables in the quad watching some of the group reinforce the front fence of the prison. She had just finished her tasks for the day and took a load off, it just so happened to be at the right moment Daryl Dixon would be working outside in the remaining light hours of the day.

This has been going on for a while. Not saying many words to each other and Y/N simply watching Daryl exist doing whatsoever. It started at the quarry and now it’s happening at the prison, after all the chaos of course.

“Hey Y/N can I borrow you a sec?” Beth smiles asking for her help as Y/N nods returning the smile before getting up and following the young Greene.

Little did she know that the archer was watching the two’s interaction from where he stood with Rick and Glenn. He was lost in his own mindset and it took Glenn elbowing him to get him back.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothin’. We’re losing light”

“You’re the one that zoned out” Rick chuckles picking up the wooden plank and holding it in place for Glenn to secure.

The night crawls in and their group hung out in their cellblock talking amongst themselves like it was old times of enjoying the others company. But also talking about the future of the prison. Y/N was part of the conversation regarding the farm with Hershel and Rick while Daryl being beside them was talking to Glenn and Sasha about setting up a run. Even if both were in different conversations, Y/N still managed to listen in while focusing on what’s being told to her.

“We should get more people to come on the run with us if we are gonna tackle something like that” said thing was the abandoned camp that the military has set up in a shopping center. Daryl brought himself to lean against the wall when he accidentally bumped shoulders with Y/N.

For some reason, he felt a spark when such happened. He gave an apoplectic look to her as she shrugged it off with a smile before turning back to Hershel to talk about the pig pen he was talking about.

“Daryl?” Sasha snaps him out of his thoughts as he turned back to those he was talking to while his mind was still elsewhere.

“Sorry”

“No worries. But I agree. We should get at least three more people to come with us? Just for now let’s stick with smaller runs that won’t take much time” Glenn states before continuing to talk about such but the words started to sound like white noise, to both of them.

Neither of them really pulled away from the smallest form of human contact. All Y/N did was readjust but kept her shoulder against Daryl’s as he sat still for a moment thinking he was making her uncomfortable, until he adjusted and kept close.

This…is new

Y/N found herself on watch in the late morning which was new given she’s usually on nights. But as she stood leaning against the railing, she saw everything happening including the archer get a team ready to go for a run. She heard times before that he never saw himself as a leader, but he’s a natural one if he ever needs to step up.

“Yo!”

The young Grimes caught Y/N off guard as she looked a bit ridiculous when turning her attention away. Like she was trying to hide something but Carl knew he was a bit unexpected.

“Sorry, Y/N. Someone just wanted me to give you this”

“Someone? Carl you know almost everybody. Who made you their messenger?” Y/N laughs a bit taking the book from him as he shrugged her off to avoid answering her question. She examined the cover reading ‘DUNE’ on it and remembering a conversation she had with Michonne about how it was one of her favorites. So maybe it was Michonne that had Carl give it to her? Who knows…

“You think…uh”

“Uh?” Y/N smiles feeling the pages and enjoying the comfort she received from just holding the book in her hands.

“Can read it to Jude. Yknow like. When I’m around” the kid can read. He just didn’t want to admit that he wants that old comfort that he got from his mom.

“I’m watching Judith tonight while your dad is on watch duty. Maybe a few chapters tonight? Not like she’d understand”

“It’s cool I can hold her and dumb it down for her” Carl smiles getting another laugh out of his family.

As the two were watched for a moment from Daryl on the ground as he sat on his bike waiting for the others to get ready in their car. The second he heard a honk that snapped him out of his thoughts he whistled for the two’s attention catching them both feeling some unexpected anxiety.

“Open the gates!” He yells for their attentions as they quickly got out of the watchtower and did what was asked.

Before Daryl got far he stopped abruptly when he heard Y/N yelling at him.

“Be safe!” Y/N yells with a smile followed as Daryl froze in his place looking back at her with a nod before returning forward and fighting back a smile following the car.

It was the little things

Either watched the other work, try to include themselves (respectfully) in conversations that held the other, exchanged passing looks, and the more Y/N’s collection of books grew she found who they were coming from as part of her wished she didn’t catch Daryl in the act because he stopped leaving books for a few days.

Then on a cold rainy night in the prison, Y/N currently had Beloved in her grasp reading with the help of the weak solar powered lantern. She looked up when the light grew bigger to see Daryl with a flashlight and entering her cell without saying a word but laying a copy of Little Women on the edge of her bed. He didn’t wait for a ‘thank you’ or anything of the sort as he left after gifting her the book. She carefully set her book open facing down onto the floor before picking up the new one to feel something loose within the pages. She pulled out a note and it wasn’t a love note or anything, just asking her to join them on the run when it’s done raining. She smiled warmly anyway…it came from him.

It didn’t stop raining until three days later and Y/N found herself waiting by the cars with her gear expecting a few others to join but when Daryl came over ready to go looking to be the only one. Which is what he wanted.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah, uh” Y/N felt a bit skittish suddenly when given a moment entirely alone with Daryl. “Is it just us?”

Little did she know she’s spending most of the day with just him. Daryl gripped the strap to his crossbow nodding, a bit nervous himself. “Is that Uhm. Alright? Cuz I can—“

“Of course!” Bit too eager Y/N. Y/N smiles feeling a bit of a blush reach her ears as she carefully brushes her hair to cover them to avoid the obvious. “S-Sorry. It’s cool…just being us”

Now Daryl was the one trying to hide his blush by fully turning around heading toward his bike.

“Oh are we uh. Am I taking a car?”

The blush faded enough for him to look at her with a bit of an annoyed look. He didn’t mean it but it was a stupid question.

“Nah we’re takin’ my bike” He states approaching his bike as Y/N quickly got up from the bench she was waiting on to join him.

It was a little awkward at first when Y/N got on the back of his bike, after putting his crossbow on her back. She was hesitant to bring her arms around him not wanting to make him uncomfortable but Daryl was gentle when he grabbed her arms wrapping them around his torso. He felt her scoot into him being pressed up against him once her arms were secured.

“Ready?”

“Yeah! Uh who’s opening—-“

“We’ve gotcha!” Glenn smiles approaching the gates after making his and Maggie’s presence known to the two. His timing was always perfect.

Then they were off…and it was stunning.

Y/N at first kept a tight grasp when he first started to drive out of the prison. Then as the scenery passed, she loosen her grasp to lean back a little to watch the trees pass by one moment then an open field with few walkers and back to trees. It repeated as such until they were soon passing the big shopping district they were planning a huge run for and then the next being a few smaller ones which where they’ll be going through. Daryl felt her tighten around him when he hit a few bumps as he gently pats her hand to reassure her that he’ll go a bit slower and will always be safe.

An hour has passed and Daryl found himself watching Y/N more than their exit as he couldn’t help but notice the smallest things she’d do.

Being extra gentle when lifting items off the floor

Carrying a smile as she looks at the few pictures from the past

The excitement that shines bright in her eyes when she’d find books or anything that brought her joy

Daryl only snapped out of it when he heard wood give way. He quickly approached the hole finding Y/N had fallen through the second floor to the first.

Shit shit shit shit Daryl quickly ran away from the opening and down to her level pushing away an aisle’s shelving to get to her faster. “You okay?! It looks safe from when we cleared down here”

As the archer knelt to her as she sat up, she gave him a reassuring smile while rubbing her arm. Y/N instantly started to frown which worried Daryl even more.

“Y/N?”

“You’re bleeding” She frowns taking his arm to show him the cut on his person. He was in a hurry to get to her that he didn’t feel it happen. “We should get back…it needs stitches”

“Oh. Nah I don’t need Hershel to—“

“I can take care of it. We just need to go back. You and I can always come back another day” Y/N reassures him that today wasn’t ruined and Daryl couldn’t help but still be focused on what happened to her that she let him check her person after she put a temporary pressure dressing with the bandana he has and once she got up.

The two were quiet for the rest of the ride, given they were both hurt and Daryl felt awful even if it was an unpredictable thing most the time. Then as they sat in her cell later that night, the awkwardness seemed to have dissipated and it was just the silence and a bit of worry…while also taking notice of the small details.

The anxious archer watched how careful she was when stitching up his arm lac. She made sure not to pull too hard and would always double check her already done stitches. Y/N noticed while she was doing the stitches that he started to bite at his thumb. She’s noticed it before during stressful situations and he was doing it now and even when she finished putting the new bandage on.

“Am I good doc?” Daryl laughs nervously as he was about to start back up the habit when Y/N took both of his hands squeezing them. “I’m still sorry about…the floor breaking” he almost whispers as he brought his hand to gently graze the instant bruise she got from the fall.

“You didn’t break it, D”

“I know, sunshine. I’m just…still sorry”

There was that spark again. Bringing back the silence and the two getting a bit more confident with the other. But before either could make a move, Sasha interrupted the two to get Y/N’s assistance with something. Daryl had pulled away from her when she had came into the entry way of her cell.

Y/N gave him a short lived apologetic look before pulling her entire self away and leaving with Sasha. Daryl frowns wishing she didn’t interrupt. When will he get a chance like that again?

Well…

Another storm came through the prison as this one was the worse so far. Heavy rains and lightening. Rick had informed everyone outside when the storm was coming based on the changes in the weather through the day to go inside and chores will be taken care of once it passes.

Daryl had done a sweep inside their cellblock making sure his family was indoors but when he came to Y/N’s cell. He didn’t find her. He quickly ran down the steps about to ask Rick if he has seen her since he was coming back in but instead…

“We don’t have people on watch for the night cuz of the storm but I don’t think Y/N heard me when she’s the last on watch”

“I’ll go get’er” Daryl states not wasting another second but he was grabbed by Rick for another minute. “Yeah?”

“Bring a jacket, man.”

The archer soon found himself running through the rain while protectively holding his poncho. He entered the watchtower back expecting to meet Y/N coming down but when she didn’t, he thought something was up.

But she was simply outside leaning against the railing and watching the rain fall.

“Hey”

Y/N’s smile instantly came out when hearing his voice as she noticed his worried expression while offering his poncho.

“Hey yourself”

“Are you doing okay?” He frowns, feeling only a tad better when she put on his poncho. “You didn’t hear Rick callin’ for those outside to come in before the storm got worse”

“I Uhm. Kinda had a lot on my mind…and didn’t wanna be suffocated” Her smile faltered and it stung in his chest watching such.

“Oh…I can leave if yea need space…just—“

“I want you here” Y/N cuts him off, not wasting another moment like before as she looked away afraid the more she said that she would choke and he’d leave.

But he gently held her chin making her look him in the eye as he brought his hand to her cheek looking her in the eye. Wanting to hear every single word that came from her.

“You want me here?” Daryl felt that spark and it turned into loving warmth when she continued to look up at him trying to find the words but keeping that beautiful smile of hers. “I ain’t good with my words either, sunshine…I…”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Dixon”

“Good…” He exhales bringing his other hand to cup her other cheek before bringing his lips onto hers. The sudden kiss confirmed his feelings to her but she was still shocked he reciprocated said feelings.

Though when the archer parted, he gave her that loving look in his eyes that she’s been giving him since their moment started. “I’m in love with you, sunshine” and as he was about to go in for another kiss that she already started to lean in for…the flash of lightening and loud thunder that rang with it startled the two. Daryl didn’t hesitate to bring Y/N into his arms as she had already latched onto him the second she heard it.

“Maybe we should’ve confessed inside” Y/N laughs bringing her head to his chest feeling him tighten around her gently.

“Nah. This was perfect”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #sorry these are taking forever to put out

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angrelysimpping · 2 years ago

Note

if i made it in time to request… may i ask for LIs reacting to a super badass pc who constantly gets into fights and isn’t good at socializing but once around LI is super docile and soft like a lovesick puppy?

Contents: Alex, Avery, Eden, Kylar, Robin, Sydney, Whitney (they/them); Reader (you/your); mentions of public sex in Whitney's section; mentions of blood and fighting but nothing too explicit

Words: ~ 300 each

Alex

Does not realize for the longest time.

They think you're just the sweetest.

Always hanging around you on the farm, making sure nothing happens.

Tosses a bail of hay at you cause they just can't help it. They wanna see you squirming and pinned, needing their help.

But you surprise them, taking care of yourself.

That doesn't tip Alex off, though.

Not even when they catch you jumping the fence, taking a solid swing at that one pervert who likes to catcall Alex as they work, lets Alex in on how much of a scrapper you are.

Why would it?

You're always so sweet with them. Always making them tea, sitting in their lap, getting pinned under Alex's weight in bed. If that pervert pushed you to your limit, they must have really been out of line.

Then come the raids.

And Alex sees a pack of Remy’s goons scatter at the mere sight of you.

And they can see it. All at once, they understand.

Maybe it's the way you stand, silhouetted against the security lights. Maybe it's the cock of your head or the twitch in your hand as they form into fists.

And Alex falters.

Have you been hiding this from them? The fact that, well, that you're not just some soft townie?

Those thoughts, fears, of you lying to them dissipate as the night winds down, and Remy's goons are sent packing.

Before Alex even gets the chance to question you about it, you're tugging them into bed, curling into their side.

And the tightness in their chest relaxes, melting against you.

So, you've still got a few surprises in you, huh? That's fine. You're still Alex's partner, and they're yours.

Honestly, they never realize you’re bad at socializing. Standoffish while meeting their family? Yeah, that’s understandable. Have a hard time talking to customers on the farm? Well, that’s Alex’s job anyway.

Avery

Avery took a gamble on you, really.

You were just so nice to look at, would look so pretty on their arm at events.

And then the way you looked at them, all dopy-eyed. A lovesick pup ready to do anything Avery asked of you. Yeah, Avery can work with that.

Of course, your shit social skills are a minus. A really big minus. But, as long as you cling to Avery’s arm and look good, gaze at them like they hang the stars in the sky, then they can live with you not being the best socialite in the world.

They will try to get you into etiquette classes though, trying to make you even more valuable to them.

They find out you get into fights quick, idling in their car near the school one afternoon only to see you getting into a fistfight with someone who tried to grope you.

On one hand, Avery’s pissed. The last thing they need is their name tied to some delinquent. Also, what with your apparent prowess in fighting, there’s little to no chance Avery can ever put you in your place if you step out of line. It makes their rage simmer under their skin, knowing they can’t physically push you around.

On the other hand, you stomp that groper into the ground and then climb into Avery’s car and give them that same adoring look you always do. It’s hard to stay mad at you when you look at them like that. It’s a little soothing, really, you looking so soft and submissive, full of adoration. You wouldn’t fight back against them if they got rough with you, would you? No, Avery doesn’t think so.

Chides you, wiping away a stray droplet of blood, telling you not to get into too many fights. It could reflect negatively upon them, after all.

Will get upset with you if you ever show up to one of their dates with the evidence of a recent fight, be it something as large as a broken limb or as small as a bruised cheek.

Eden

Honestly, this is Eden’s ideal.

Cute house spouse who does whatever they want? Follows after Eden like a puppy following its master? What’s even better is that you’ve always been like this, submitting to Eden’s whims right from that first meeting.

Perfect, perfect little pet for them.

You take on your role so readily, following their every order, it’s really like you were made for them.

Of course, nothing in Eden’s life can actually be perfect. You have to go back to town, back to school.

But then you trot back into the forest every afternoon and lay on Eden’s bed, eagerly waiting to fulfill your spousal duties.

It’d be great if you weren’t late getting home one evening.

If Edne didn’t have to stalk into town, looking for you.

To find you, surrounded by a group of perverts.

It makes Eden’s blood boil, makes them want to forbid you from ever stepping foot back into town. You’re their’s, Eden’s. You’re too soft for town, without their protection.

And then you kill those thoughts, sending the gang running all by yourself.

It’s a bit of a shock to Eden, really. Almost a betrayal. This whole time, you could fight Eden off if you wanted to. It’s one of the few things they feel confident in, their strength. You’re able to fight off a whole group on your own? Yeah, no, that gets under their skin.

But then you light up at seeing them, wrap your arms around their waist and apologize for making them worry, for making them come into town looking for you.

Their collar is still around your throat, their scent still clinging to your skin, and that quells Eden’s anger and paranoia.

Gruffly says something about going back to the cabin, jumping slightly when you take their large hand in yours as you walk with them back to the cabin, back home.

Might never find out that you’re bad at socializing, but boy do they love it. You’re bad at socializing? Good, stay in the forest where you don’t have to try to bullshit your way through social interactions. Can’t make any friends? Good, Eden is all you need, anyway.

Kylar

Oh, nothing is a surprise to Kylar, not when it comes to you.

Kylar knows you’re a badass, that you’re always getting into fights and winning. If they’re honest, it actually turns them on a little, seeing you bloody people who try to grope you, knowing that you can protect yourself.

Sure, Kylar wants to protect you, but knowing you’ll get violent if some pervert tries to grope you? It sets butterflies off in their stomach.

Double so if you ever swoop in to stop someone getting rough with Kylar. Seeing you defend them has them pressed against you, mumbling about going somewhere private.

Though, they also hate seeing you in fights at all. They don’t like that there's the potential of you getting hurt.

As for socializing, they’re thrilled! They’re also bad at socializing! You’re just like them! Also, it means they won’t have to fight for your attention, will they? Or, at least not as much if you were a social butterfly.

And then they adore how you act around them. All sweet and soft and docile. A side only they get to see, right?

Really, Kylar is going to match your energy, two lovesick puppies following after each other.

Ready to threaten anyone who comes near you, naturally, even if you can defend yourself.

Robin

You’ve always been so sweet to Robin. All these years in the orphanage together, you’ve always been kind to them.

Then, their feelings towards you start shifting, becoming more romantic. They’re nervous as hell leaving their confession for you to find but then you’re kissing them in their room and they know they made the right choice.

They love it, they love having you by their side constantly, that you’re an endlessly sweet person in this screwed-up town.

So, it comes as a massive shock when they see you deck Bailey.

Not only that, but you drive the caretaker off, refusing to pay the money the caretaker demands of all the of age orphans.

Have you…have you been able to do stuff like this the whole time? Have you been doing stuff like this? Fighting people?

Robin’s never been one to gossip, they never realized you were the subject of so many fights around the school.

But, well, it makes sense now why you were always covered in scrapes and bruises. Why Robin had to act as your personal nurse every now and then.

They wish you wouldn’t get into so many fights but, well, they can understand when it’s someone like Bailey or Whitney.

Just promise them that you’ll always come to them if you get hurt, alright?

Picks up on how bad you are at socializing and just rolls with it. They won’t ask you to do anything outside your comfort zone if you’re helping them with their drink stalls. They don’t mind that you’re bad at talking to other people, they find it kinda cute, actually. You’re all badass and great at fighting but then you trip over your own words and look at them like a lost puppy. They love it, they love you.

Sydney

Sydney has heard a few things about you.

They’re no gossip, but students talk far too loudly in the library. Even after Sydney tells them to quiet down, they still hear about how you wiped the floor with someone who tried to sneak a hand down your pants in the hall or sent someone to the nurse because they groped your chest.

On one hand, they don’t think violence is the answer, but, well, they can kind of understand when it comes to perverts trying to assault you.

They also hear things from Sirris, stories about having to give you detention for fighting with classmates during lectures.

That they don’t understand. It never occurs to them that you might be defending yourself in those cases as well, not until after they’ve met you at least.

Your poor socialization skills are, well, it’s not completely lost on Sydney how bad you are at socializing. It’s just, they’re not great at socializing with their peers either. They don’t have many friends their own age thanks to their temple vows and being a teacher’s kid. So, it doesn’t really bother them. It’s actually a little endearing, your awkwardness. Makes them feel a little more comfortable around you, actually.

Then, when you’re actually in a relationship together? When you follow after them, lovestruck and puppy-like? They love it. Makes their heart all fluttery.

The more corrupt they are, the more they encourage you to fight anyone who tries to touch you. The purer they are, the more they wish for you to forgive them and move on.

Whitney

This is also Whitney’s ideal.

Cute slut who does whatever they want and follows after them like the bitch they are. Yeah, that’s exactly what Whitney wants.

Being shit at talking to people and making friends is a bonus. No one to try to get you to see the light and leave them, no one for you to hang out with except for them. They love it.

Bullies you for it, of course, but they love it. They can have you all to themself and not have to worry about shit, it’s great.

When they find out that you’re a badass? That you could take them in a fight easily but choose not to? Ego boost.

Yeah, you just sent a group of full-grown adults running, you probably even sent one of them to the hospital. Then, Whitney gives you a look and you’re on your knees in an instant. How could they not feel like a fucking god when you’re doing shit like that?

They become insufferable after finding out you’d fight anyone and probably win. Especially if they can use it to their own advantage.

Also loves having you do something badass only to dom you after. There’s someone else’s blood on your face and you’re on your knees, looking up at them, ready to give them head. It becomes one of their favorite things in the world.

#alex the farmhand #avery the businessperson #eden the hunter #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #sydney the faithful #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity

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