#full-time rv family

[passportkings]

Tips for Selling Your Home to Live in an RV as a Digital Nomad

Living on the road in an RV as a digital nomad is a dream for many individuals looking to find new opportunities and experience alternative lifestyles. Whether you’re looking to pursue your career remotely or enjoy the freedom of the open road, to live in an RV can be an exciting and gratifying experience. Here are a few tips for anyone looking to sell their home and hit the road as a digital…

[sp0o0kylights]

Sometimes I think of a Steve Harrington that is absolutely exhausted by all the horror and bullshit and trying to keep the kids alive through said horror and bullshit, who watches Eddie rock up to him at the beginning of S4 with a dead eyed, flat stare.

"Steeeeve Harrington." Eddie taunts and peacocks and twirls around him, and all Steve wanted was for a couple months to process the trauma, maybe feel safe enough to start thinking about the future instead of stuck in a never ending anxiety loop of what might happen to Dumbass Near-Deatherson, should Steve go to college or move out of Hawkins (bc all the bad nicknames in the world won't erase the fact that Dustin's family, now. They're all family. And when they need help, they go to Steve.) and now he's suffering the unjust ordeal of being haunted by the high school drug dealer.

"His highness has come down from his castle!" Munson will crow, making a show out of Steve picking up the kids like this is a great battle of wits, a scoreboard between them and not like Steve is half dead on his feet, head aching, dreams full of too many teeth. "Quickly hide behind me, he'll try to cut off your heads!"

"Wouldn't he just cut yours off too?" Lucas asked, though the tone was slightly timid, Sinclair unsure if his joke would be well recieved.

(Steve doesn't care if the kid outright insults him. He still recalls the junkyard, the fight with Billy, the blood staining the kid's headband. Lucas lived, therefore, he can be a shit if wants.)

"Mine? Oh, the King wouldn't dare." Munson tosses his head, full of cartoon energy, too big for his body and grin both. "Many have tried you see, but no one had ever succeeded!"

Steve, equally, does not give a single shit that Eddie Munson has decided to play these games with him--until he realizes he's maybe been a little too exhausted and depressed and morose around the kids.

Watches them getting worried over him, whispering urgently and making dramatic gestures and talking to Robin and suddenly, playing a little tug of war over them the way Munson seems to want feels like a good idea. A way to hide all the rough edges, a way to be fine so they can be fine.

"How about you guys skip the dork brigade tonight," Steve taunts back the next time they're all together, standing like the man he used to be, wearing a dead personality. "And we go do something actually fun instead?"

Eddie laughs, lights up, is all too happy to match him tit for tat, and it's so easy to fake this kind of interaction, rolling his eyes and snapping his gum. Steve could match this energy in his sleep, and never once does Munson catch on that Steve's not doing this for him.

That he's not even looking at him half the time, eyes askew, locked on the kids. Seeing them relax as he banters, seeing Dustin glow as he returns to his favorite position, being the center of attention.

So long as they think he's okay, Steve will be okay. If that means putting up with Munson, then so be it.

Its not like he'll catch on.

Eddie doesnt.

(Or rather, he does--but Its months and several deaths later, when they're in the RV, chasing what feels like literal demons, does it dawn on Eddie what Steve is doing.

Has been doing, the whole time.

Steve, sassy, ridiculous, jock- brained Steve makes the mistake of doing it again, using the same trick he had on the kids to convince them he was fine on Eddie. To further convince Eddie that they were fine as a group.

That they'll survive, they'll figure it out, they'll make it.

Loudly bantering with dead eyes, smiling with a mouth robotically locked in. Jokes on jokes on jokes and all of them making the kids take their minds off VecnaHenryOne to screech ineffectively at their babysitter. Winks tossed to the girls, who both roll their eyed at him. A sly look given to Eddie, to include him.

Its then, that Eddie decides to cement his life with Steve's. Because this loyal bastard of a paladin is too good hearted to die, too protective to not try it anyway. The idiot is cutting himself to ribbons to tie them all together and Eddie can't undo the damage but he can grab all the pieces he can, loop them together.

He can make those dead eyes light up again.

And he does.

This time when things are over Steve finds himself unable to pull those little tricks of his. Every time he slides the mask over his face Eddie rips it right back off again.

They fight, a lot, until they start kissing instead and for a while that also, somehow, feels like fighting but Eddie's real good at this. The emotional part, not so much the kissing, but he knows how to draw Steve out. How to break down walls, and annoying his real personality out.

The kissing was just an odd little side benefit.

A thing they don't talk about.

There's a benefit to it, one he doesn't look very hard into, until strangely, one day, Eddie wakes with Steve's head pillowed on his shoulder and comes to the abrupt conclusion that he's screwed.

Or so he thinks--until bright, loving eyes blink awake, and turn on him, and Eddie realizes just how long it's been since they looked dead.

He wonders, vaguely, how long it'll take for Steve to catch on, that this just got serious.

Will laugh at himself when he learns that Steve already knew.

Guess that's what he gets for finally paying attention.)

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day. 

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly. 

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time. 

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it. 

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business. 

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time. 

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach. 

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch. 

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum. 

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure. 

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face. 

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning. 

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town. 

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike. 

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack. 

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn. 

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care. 

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came. 

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him. 

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes. 

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick. 

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it. 

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike. 

“We'll figure it out.” 

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident. 

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms. 

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair. 

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at. 

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring. 

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner. 

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner. 

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

 It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return. 

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection. 

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you. 

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth. 

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so… 

Cute.

 He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours. 

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips. 

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time. 

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place. 

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell. 

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling. 

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.” 

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you. 

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request. 

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said. 

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection. 

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you. 

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with. 

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade. 

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork. 

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer. 

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing. 

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints. 

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day. 

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to. 

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you. 

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all. 

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars. 

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on. 

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him. 

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion. 

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises. 

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again. 

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction. 

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him. 

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem. 

He looked at your face then. 

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way. 

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder. 

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty. 

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again. 

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you. 

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol. 

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?” 

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.” 

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces. 

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body. 

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted. 

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together. 

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’. 

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away. 

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down. 

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch. 

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars. 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts. 

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?” 

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling. 

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment. 

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands. 

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick. 

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months. 

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass. 

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed. 

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you. 

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit. 

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach. 

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off,  it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again. 

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out. 

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined. 

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent. 

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands. 

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock. 

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit. 

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down. 

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation. 

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you. 

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier. 

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper. 

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top. 

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life. 

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth. 

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” 

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty. 

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up. 

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you. 

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging. 

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.” 

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-” 

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak. 

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin. 

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath. 

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you. 

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core. 

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine. 

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching. 

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you. 

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm. 

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip. 

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating. 

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it. 

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on. 

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him. 

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed. 

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note. 

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon. 

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[blogglgrogan]

Looking Forward Means Looking Back

[openroadjedi]

ROOTED AGAIN

Originally posted in the Sept/Oct 2022 edition of Rootless Living Magazine I’ve never been one to stay still. I was born a nomad, and I still am a nomad and always will be.”–Waris Dirie REGARDLESS OF THE context, the spirit of this quote runs deep for us. After several years of travel that took us from Key West, Florida, to Fairbanks, Alaska, and from the Cliffs of Moher to the jungles of Costa…

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[janiehellion]

𝚨 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐢𝐧 ⋮ ℜ𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔊𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You were younger than him, tempting—wearing nothing but a sundress in the heat of a warm summer breeze. And Rick Grimes never planned on giving in, but you—you were the taste of sin he couldn’t ignore.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Cheating ⋮ Age Gap ⋮ Infidelity ⋮ Semi-Public Sex ⋮ Blowjob ⋮ Cumplay ⋮ Dub-Con Elements ⋮ Manipulation ⋮ Language

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10.201 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S02E06 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You've had your eyes on Rick Grimes, not that it was anything new. Since Atlanta, really. You couldn't help but stare, even though you knew you shouldn't.

Maybe you did because the world was falling apart, and Rick was still trying to hold it all together right from the start. But then again, maybe it was just the way he wore that sheriff's hat when there was no law anymore, the way his eyes caught yours when you least expected it, and the way it made your heart race.

So when you saw him now, talking to Shane and Lori in the distance, you couldn't help but keep your gaze completely on him, your thoughts wandering to places they probably shouldn't.

You weren't stupid. You knew Rick was married, and you knew that Lori was his wife. Hell, everyone knew that, but it didn't stop the fire that started to rage inside of you every time you looked at him.

But the moment you saw the gun in Carl's hand, your jaw dropped.

And as you watched part of the group gather around him—Lori's voice rising in panic and irritation while Rick was trying to stay calm—something made you act and get a little closer.

"So on top of everything else, he lied," Lori snapped, her hands thrown up in the air like she couldn't handle another goddamn thing after everything that had happened so far.

Dale's voice, meanwhile, was surprisingly calm. "Well, it's my fault. I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one."

You could tell Lori wasn't buying it, her face full of disbelief. But Rick didn't flinch. He just looked tired—drained, really—like this was the last thing he needed today. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes, how his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of this new world.

"I'm not comfortable with it," Lori continued, her voice higher now, demanding. "Oh, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?"

Rick let out a long, heavy sigh, his eyes finally looking from Lori to Carl and back. "I know. I have my concerns too, but..."

Lori immediately jumped on him. "There's no but! He was just shot! He's just back on his feet, and he wants a gun?"

Rick's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "Better than him being afraid of ‘em. There are guns in camp for a reason. He should learn to handle them safely."

Lori's anger almost boiled over. "I don't want my kid walking around with a gun!"

And you? You couldn't stop yourself from speaking up, too. "But Rick's right, Lori," you said, stepping forward. "This is about survival."

Lori's eyes snapped to you, narrowing as if she hadn't realized you were even standing there. "And who in the whole wide world asked you for your opinion when it comes to my family?"

You met her gaze head-on. "I'm just saying, if Carl's going to be out there, he needs to know how to defend himself."

Rick looked at you as well—briefly, but enough to make your heart skip a beat. He didn't say anything, but there was approval in his eyes before he turned back to Lori.

"Look, Carl's not a child anymore," he continued. "He's gotta start understanding this world, Lori. You can't keep sheltering him."

Lori's face was turning red a little, the argument getting more personal now. "Then he needs to act like one," she snapped, her hands on her hips. "He's not mature enough to handle a gun!"

Carl stood a little straighter, trying to defend himself. "I'm not gonna play with it, Mom!"

But it wasn't just about Carl and the gun. It was about something that no one wanted to talk about, but everyone else seemed to notice.

And you knew that the cracks in their marriage were getting bigger. You couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before one of them stepped out.

Rick shifted his weight, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at Lori. "We can't keep treating Carl like a little kid. Not in this world. He needs to grow up, and fast."

"Exactly. Just give it a rest, Lori."

Your words made all eyes look at you.

"I'm sorry?" She demanded, voice rising. "How about you stay out of this?"

You crossed your arms, still not backing down.

"No, give it a rest. Carl's not a damn baby. This world's gone to hell, and you're still acting like he's gonna be safe because you tell him to stay put."

Meanwhile, Shane smirked at you. But you didn't care about him right now.

"Excuse me, but this is my son we're talking about. Not yours!"

"Oh, we all know that," you snapped, stepping closer. "You just don't want him to grow up because then he won't need Mommy holding his hand anymore."

Her mouth dropped open, stunned silent.

You didn't stop.

"I'm just saying… Rick's right. Shane as well. He needs to learn how to survive. But go ahead. Let's see how well that works when a walker gets too close and he'll turn. Because from where I stand, you don't get it, do you? Carl's not a fucking baby. If you think this world's going to get any better, you're out of your damn mind."

"You're just a teenager," she responded, putting her hands on her hips like she was somehow superior to you. "What do you know?"

"I'm not." You stepped forward. "I know a hell of a lot more than you give me credit for. Maybe it's time you stop playing the victim and realize we all have to step up, not just Carl. It's not his fault he's growing up in this nightmare."

Shane and Rick stayed silent, but you could feel their eyes on you. You didn't care. Lori was the one who'd been pissing you off for days, and it was time someone called her out besides Daryl Dixon.

But Lori, fuming, turned on her heel and stormed off, just like that. And the moment she was gone, Rick let out a deep breath, clearly relieved that it was over for now.

He didn't speak to you at first, just glanced at you with that tired look on his face, like he had no idea what to say. Then, his voice came out soft, like it had to fight its way through his exhaustion.

"Thanks," he said, the corner of his mouth showing a tiny hint of a smile. He didn't say much, but it was enough.

You nodded, smiling at him in return. "No problem."

Rick gave you one last look before turning away, and you couldn't help but stare after him, your heart pounding.

The hours dragged on, the heat making you sweat. You leaned against the side of the porch, arms crossed, watching the others from a distance. Maggie and Glenn had just left, but you weren't paying attention to them. You were lost in your thoughts, as usual.

Letting out a slow breath, you stared at the dirt beneath your feet, the faintest trace of dust swirling around. It felt like the world was always watching you, but you never seemed to matter. They all looked right past you like you were invisible at best.

You were supposed to be part of this group, right? But somehow, you always felt like an outsider. Even back in Atlanta, when the world was still—well, a little bit more normal—you didn't fit in. The others saw you somehow as a kid. Just a teenager, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Hell, you were an adult now, having had your birthday already, but no one ever seemed to treat you that way.

"Jim was the only one who ever really talked to me," you said to yourself, shaking your head. "Before he got bit, anyway."

You let the memory of Jim come back. He has been looking out for you, always making sure you were safe. You used to hate how it felt like pity, but now? Now, you'd give anything to have that feeling again.

But the others? Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale, and the rest—they didn't see you that way. They saw you as a kid to protect. A burden.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the frustration that threatened to come back, too. "Dale? Yeah, he used to look out for me too. But as soon as Andrea came into the picture, it was like I didn't even exist anymore. It's always the same. There's always someone else. Maggie's got Glenn. Shane's still got his thing with Lori… And Rick?"

Your heart raced at the thought of him. You didn't want it to, but it did. And you couldn't help yourself. "Rick… he doesn't even see me. Not really. Looking at me, sure. But he's too busy playing the damn sheriff, trying to keep this group together."

Your fingers twitched at your sides, fighting the urge to run your hands through your hair. You shook your head again, clearing the thoughts.

"God, what the hell's wrong with me?" You laughed, taking a slow breath. "It's not like I'm a kid anymore. I'm not some… little girl."

You let out another bitter laugh. "Now I'm just here, stuck in the background. Glenn and Maggie? Yeah, they've already got each other. They've got this… thing. And they're gonna keep it, just like the rest of ‘em, while I'm left here. Alone."

It wasn't fair. Why did they all get to find something? Why did they get to find a connection while you were stuck in the circle of getting replaced?

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to shake the feeling off. It wasn't like you wanted to be envious. But you couldn't help it.

"Maybe Rick could see me," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But he probably doesn't even know I'm here. Probably sees me as some damn kid still."

You laughed again, softer now, but still sounding bitter. "He's too busy with Lori. They've got their shit to figure out, and I'm just the quiet one in the background. Not important."

But the thought stayed anyway. What if he did see you? What if, for once, you weren't invisible to him?

"God, what I'd do just to feel him—" you whispered to yourself. You imagined the heat of his chest pressing against yours, the weight of his hips pressing against yours, the way he might growl your name as you wrapped your legs around him, desperate to feel him inside you. So fucking desperate.

Still, you shoved that thought away before it could go any further. But the yearning, that ache in your chest, stayed. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to make him see you. You wanted him to see you as something more than just the girl in the background. Something worth noticing.

You were about to slip back into your head, your thoughts wandering down that dangerous path again—the one where you imagined Rick's arms around you, his body pressing into yours, his lips on yours, and him finally losing control—when you heard footsteps stopping right next to you.

You snapped out of it just in time to see Dale passing by. He didn't seem to notice you at first, his focus on whatever task was occupying his mind, but as he got closer, his eyes looked to yours.

It was as if he could see right through you and every goddamn thought you were trying to hide.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

Dale certainly had his way of catching people off guard.

You stiffened, unsure whether to answer. He wasn't the type to push too hard, but you had this feeling that he knew exactly what was going on in your head. You didn't want him to see that side of you, the side that couldn't help but fantasize about things better left unsaid. He'd always been kind to you, like a father. But since Andrea, that kindness felt almost like a trap.

You bit your lip, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just... thinking," you grumbled, trying to wave it off. But you could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, the telltale blush that was always there when your thoughts went to places they shouldn't.

Dale didn't buy it. Of course, he didn't. He took another step toward you, his hands resting lightly on his hips. He studied you, his expression unreadable.

"Thinking about what, exactly?" His voice had that certain tone, the one that made you feel like you couldn't hide anything from him, no matter how hard you tried.

You swallowed, the words almost slipping out before you could stop them. "I don't know... Just the way things are, I guess," you answered, noticing the vulnerability in your voice despite your best efforts.

His gaze softened for a moment, but you knew he was too smart for his own good. Too perceptive.

"You know," he began slowly, eyes looking around to make sure no one else was around, "I don't blame you for feeling the way you do. It's not easy... watching others find what they need while you're stuck in the background. But don't mistake that frustration for something more."

You tensed up again, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?" You asked, the words coming out meaner than you intended.

Dale's expression didn't change, but he shook his head. And him shaking his head always told you he was about to say something you weren't sure you wanted to hear. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. But you might want to be careful, kid. You shouldn't want something that is not for free."

You felt your heart drop. "I—" You were about to deny it, about to play it off as just your imagination, but something about the way Dale was looking at you made you freeze. His voice wasn't sounding accusatory, but more like a quiet warning. He wasn't angry; he wasn't judging. But the way he said it—like he knew—made you feel exposed and uncomfortable.

Dale let out a quiet sigh when you didn't continue. "You're not the first one to want something you can't have, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to act on it. Sometimes, it's better to let things go. Before they end up biting you in the ass."

The words hit you like a slap to the face. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat. What the hell was he talking about? Was he warning you off Rick? Was he implying that you had no chance?

But Dale just shook his head, as if reading your thoughts. "I'm not saying it's wrong to feel things. But sometimes, wanting something too badly can make you do stupid shit. And trust me, I know all about that."

The way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from more than just observation. But before you could pry any further, Dale patted you on the shoulder and smiled.

"Just keep your head on straight, okay?" And then, with one last look, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a damn fool.

Your mind raced, a million thoughts colliding at once. It was like Dale had read your mind like he knew exactly what you were thinking—what you were feeling. But the fact that he was still treating you like a kid, even though you were an adult, didn't sit right. And it sure as hell didn't help that you couldn't stop thinking about Rick, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself.

Dale had a point, in some ways. But the thing was—you didn't want to just sit on the sidelines anymore. And if you were going to make that happen, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. But the nerve of him, acting like he had it all figured out like he knew you better than you knew yourself? That made you stomp after him.

"Why don't you mind your own damn business for once?" You snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Dale paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He didn't turn around, didn't say anything. For a moment, it looked like he might, but then he just shook his head and kept walking farther and farther away.

He didn't get it. None of them did. And the worst part? He was right about one thing—you did want something you shouldn't. Something you couldn't stop thinking about.

With a frustrated huff and clenched fists, you turned on your heel and made your way back toward your tent. You didn't want to think about Dale, or Rick, or anyone else right now. You just wanted to disappear for a while, to escape the constant heat of the sun and the weight of everyone's expectations.

The air inside your tent was stale due to the summer heat, but it was offering at least a bit of privacy. You kicked off your boots, collapsing onto the sleeping pad. Sleep came slowly, your mind still racing with thoughts of Rick—his smile, his walk, the way his lips would feel against your skin. You could almost hear his voice, whispering things only you were meant to hear.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, dragging you into a restless nap.

Later, you woke up to the sound of raised voices outside your tent. Blinking against the midday light that made its way through tiny holes in your tent, you pushed yourself up, groggy and a little disoriented.

Maggie's voice rang out, louder this time. "Hey! We got your stuff."

You moved toward the edge of the tent, peering out just enough to catch the scene unfolding near you. Maggie stood there, fuming, looking frustrated and angry. Glenn was right behind her, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Maggie, hang on, please," Glenn urged nervously, but Maggie wasn't having it.

"Come on in here," Lori started, but Maggie cut her off. "We got your special delivery right here! We got your lotion, got your conditioner, your Soap Opera Digest!"

"Maggie…" Lori answered, but Maggie wasn't done.

"Next time you want something, get it your damn self! We're not your errand boys!"

"Honey, I—" Lori tried again, but Maggie wasn't listening, fumbling with something in her hands.

"And here's your abortion pills!" She practically spat the words, throwing the pills onto the ground before storming off.

Glenn seemed to hesitate before he turned and followed Maggie into the farmhouse.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, your heart pounding in your chest. Maggie's words came back to your mind, louder with each passing second: Next time you want something, get it your damn self.

The frustration in her voice, the anger—it made you think.

Get it your damn self...

Your mind started to race, the thoughts clicking into place. Maybe Maggie was right. If you wanted something, maybe it was time to stop sitting around waiting for it to happen. Maybe it was time to do something about it.

And you knew exactly what you wanted.

You'd been sitting on the sidelines long enough, letting everyone else call the shots, letting yourself fade into the background. Not anymore.

The sound of the farmhouse door got your attention. You looked out of your tent, catching sight of Glenn stepping back onto the porch, his head low, before leaving Maggie standing there alone in the doorway.

She didn't move, didn't look around—just stared out at the fields as if she were trying to will the world into something different.

You saw your chance and took it.

Stepping out into the hot sun, you made your way toward her, keeping your expression neutral. "Hey," you called softly as you approached, keeping your voice light but just concerned enough. "You okay?"

Maggie glanced at you, her brows furrowing for a split second before she sighed, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Yeah," she answered, though the tone of her voice betrayed her. "Just tired of cleaning up other people's shit."

You gave her a small, understanding smile. "I get that," you said, leaning casually against the porch railing beside her. "Lori's got a way of bothering people the wrong way."

That got a short, bitter laugh out of her. "You don't say?"

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You wiped a bead of sweat from your temple, exaggerating the motion just enough to get Maggie's attention.

"God, it's too damn hot for this," you said, fanning yourself half-heartedly. "I swear, if I have to spend another day in these jeans around here, I'm gonna lose my damn mind."

Maggie glanced at you, her frustration disappearing just a bit. "Tell me about it," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Feels like I've been roasting all day. But I'm used to it."

You hesitated, letting the silence be just long enough before tilting your head slightly as if having an idea. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have anything lighter, would you? I didn't exactly pack for a heatwave and a vacation on a farm, and I'm about ready to cut these jeans into shorts."

Maggie blinked, caught off guard by the question, but then shrugged. "Actually… I might," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I've got some sundresses I don't wear. They're just hanging around in my closet."

You tried not to let your excitement show, keeping your expression casual as you said, "Really? That'd be amazing. I'd owe you big time for that."

Maggie waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it," she said, turning toward the door. "C'mon, I'll grab a few for you. You're right; it's too hot for jeans. At least, for you city folks."

You followed Maggie into the house before she disappeared into another room, returning a minute later with a handful of sundresses in her arms. She held them out to you with a small smile. "Here. I doubt they'll fit perfectly, but they should be lighter than what you've got."

You took the dresses, running your fingers over the fabric as you smiled up at her. "These are perfect. Thanks, Maggie."

She shrugged, brushing it off. "No big deal. Like I said, I don't wear 'em anyway."

You held the dresses close, already imagining how they'd feel against your skin, how they'd cling just enough to make an impression without giving too much away. You knew exactly how you'd use them, and the thought sent a thrill through you.

"Seriously," you said, your smile widening. "Thank you."

Maggie nodded, her own smile small but genuine. "Anytime," she responded, her tone lighter now. "And hey—don't let Lori get to you, too. She doesn't need to drag you into her bullshit too."

You laughed softly, nodding. "Trust me, I'm staying out of it. And away from her."

She gave you one last look, then turned and headed toward the kitchen, leaving you standing there in the doorway with the dresses and a plan forming in your mind.

Maggie had no idea what she'd just handed you once you stepped back outside. And if things went the way you intended, neither would Rick—at least, not at first.

The next morning, you slipped into the sundress that clung to you the most like a second skin, its fabric so light it felt almost indecent. The hem barely grazed mid-thigh, and you couldn't help but smirk at the way it looked on you.

This wasn't just a dress—it was bait. Especially since you decided to wear nothing underneath.

You'd barely stepped out of your tent before the heat of the day and the sun beat down mercilessly. The farm was quiet for now, everyone busying themselves with chores or trying to escape the relentless summer. It was the perfect opportunity to set your plan in motion.

You made your way toward the chicken coop, a basket in hand, one of the tasks you'd kept yourself occupied with as of late. Rick was nearby, fixing something with T-Dog, but you didn't look at him—not yet. Let him notice you first.

Crouching by the coop, you reached for an egg near the far corner, leaning in farther than necessary on purpose. The hem of the dress lifted just enough to expose the curve of your naked ass, the sun warming your skin. You pretended not to notice as you heard footsteps slow down behind you before turning to glance over your shoulder. Rick stood several feet away, holding a tool, his expression unreadable.

"Morning, Rick," you said casually, your lips only showing the hint of a smile.

He cleared his throat, nodding. "Morning. You, uh... need any help with that?"

You shook your head, holding up an egg. "Think I can handle it just fine. But thanks." Your tone was sweet, almost innocent, but you knew what you were doing, before Rick blinked several times and gave you another nod before turning back toward T-Dog.

For just a second, his mind betrayed him—an image burning itself into it that was just too quick to stop. You, bent over right there in the dirt, the dress pushed up around your waist, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. His cock buried so deep inside you, those soft little noises you'd whimper, and the feeling of your hot, sweaty skin in the heat of the sun.

Rick swallowed hard, shaking it off like a man burned. Fuck. He needed to get his head on straight.

You bit back a grin as you watched him walk away, his shoulders all tense, his grip on the tool just a little too strong.

Gotcha.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. You found little excuses to be near him, brushing by just close enough for your bare arm to graze his, or bending over to grab something at just the right angle to make his eyes wander. Every time, his reaction was the same—quick glances, tense shoulders, and a blush that made its way to his cheeks.

By the time the sun began to set slowly, you were sitting on the porch with one leg crossed over the other, staring out at the farm and admiring the beautiful surroundings until you were sure no one was really around anymore.

Waiting until Rick was alone now, especially with Shane nowhere in sight, you adjusted the straps of the sundress, letting it slip just a little further down your shoulders, and walked toward him.

"Rick?" You called out, your voice soft enough that he had to turn fully to hear you. His eyes looked up, immediately following the curves of your body before moving back to your face. He hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard.

"Yeah?" He replied, quite distracted.

You stopped a few feet away from him, tilting your head. "This may sound weird, but I was wondering… Shane's usually the one teaching people how to shoot, right?"

Rick nodded slowly, his brows furrowing. "Yeah. Shane's the best instructor I know. I've seen him teach kids even younger than Carl. Why?"

"Well, I thought maybe I should learn, too. I know, I know... I can shoot, but I was thinking it wouldn't hurt to learn it from someone who actually knows how to handle a weapon. You know, in case I ever need to protect myself even better." You smiled sweetly, putting your weight to one hip so the tight dress clung more to your curves. "But Shane's nowhere to be found. I think he's away and teaching Andrea today; I'm not sure. Think you could show me?"

Rick's jaw twitched as he glanced past you as if looking for an escape, but there was none in sight.

"I... yeah, I haven't seen him half of the day, either, and Andrea neither, so I guess I could do that. But not for long. The sun is setting already. C'mon, follow me."

You grinned, stepping a little closer. "Thanks, Sheriff Grimes. I'd feel a lot safer knowing I can really handle a gun. You never know when things might go south, after all." Your hand touched his arm lightly as he turned, leading the way toward the area they chose for training.

By the time you reached the spot, Rick handed you a silenced pistol, his fingers touching yours. His hand stopped just a moment too long, and you caught the slight hitch in his breath as you turned it over in your hands.

"Alright," he said, stepping behind you. "First, you need to get a good grip on it. Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire. Always treat it like it's loaded. Never point it at anything you don't want to shoot. Got it?"

You pretended to fumble with the gun, tilting it awkwardly in your hand. "Like this?" You asked, glancing over your shoulder at him with innocent eyes.

Rick sighed, stepping closer until his chest almost pressed against your back. "No," he grumbled. "Here, let me..."

His hands slid over yours, guiding your fingers into place, and you leaned back ever so slightly, your ass pressing against his hips.

Rick just froze.

You bit your lip, trying to appear oblivious as you moved again, this time pressing yourself more insistently against him. Thedress left nothing between you, and you didn't miss the way he stiffened—not just his body, but the unmistakable hardness of his cock growing against you.

"Careful. Stand still."

"Sorry," you answered, moving just enough to grind back against him, pretending to be a little bit too clumsy. "I guess I'm not as good at this as I thought."

His hands tightened on your arms. "Stop that," he said, hissing slightly, but his voice betrayed him. It was sounding like he was fighting with himself.

You didn't stop. You pressed back again, slower this time, letting the movement seem unintentional. "Stop what?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet, playing dumb.

Rick groaned softly, the sound barely there, but you caught it. "Put…" He growled, stepping back suddenly. "Put the gun down. And follow me."

You obeyed, putting the gun down and letting him lead you toward the chicken coop.

It felt like Rick's hand was swallowing yours whole as he yanked you along, half-dragging, half-guiding you further behind the chicken coop. His boots crunched against the dry dirt, and your sandals barely made a sound as you stumbled to keep up.

The second you were fully out of sight, Rick spun on you, backing you into the wall. The coop creaked under the sudden impact, dust kicking up between the cracks. The secluded spot was shaded with shadows by now, with only the last rays of sunlight shining onto the ground.

"The hell do you think you're doin'?" His voice sounded frustrated, every word coming out with irritation.

You blinked up at him, pretending to be innocent, but your lips couldn't help but turn into a smirk. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

His eyes were dropping for a second as he stepped back—just a second—to your breasts, where the sundress clung to your skin, nipples already hard.

He didn't even bother hiding it now.

His jaw clenched, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

"I just asked you… What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You shrugged. "And I said that I don't know what you mean. What are you talking about, Rick?"

"The hell you don't," he shot back, stepping closer.

You took a step closer as well, your heart pounding in your chest. "So what if I do?" You challenged him, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you gonna do about it, Sheriff Grimes?"

His eyes narrowed slightly before he grabbed your arm, his grip rough but not painful. "You don't understand," he said, slightly annoyed. "You're—"

"An adult," you cut in, rolling your eyes. "I'm not even a teenager anymore! And I'm damn well not a fucking child! Stop pretending I am!"

He shook his head, his eyes searching yours. Your lips parted, but no words came out. The frustration in his eyes made your heart race, the anger in them somehow making your knees weak.

"Sorry..." You blinked up at him. "But I just wanted to learn how to shoot. How to be even better at shooting, I mean."

"Oh, don't play dumb," he snapped back. "You're getting way too close—"

"Too close?" You cut him off again as you pressed your chest against his. "I don't think it's close enough, Rick."

"No. This ain't right. You're just—"

"Don't," you interrupted again. "Don't. I'm not. And you know it."

Rick started to crack. His breath was brushing along your cheek as he leaned in, closer than before, but with that same look on his face. "You think I didn't notice? Walking around in that little dress, no fuckin' bra, no damn panties. Flashing' your ass, rubbing' up on me with your tits like some goddamn—"

"Like some what?" You interrupted, tilting your head. "Say it."

Rick's nostrils flared. He didn't know what to answer, didn't know what to do, but that smirk on your face?

That made him act.

Rick's hand shot out, gripping your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His other hand shoved up beneath your dress, squeezing one cheek of your naked ass.

"Fuckin' knew it," he hissed like he was angry at himself for being right.

But he didn't move away. His thumb was pressing against your hipbone, his fingernails scratching your skin.

"You think I ain't got more important shit to deal with right now?" He snapped further, but it was weak, crumbling. "Like searching for Sophia?"

"Of course you do. But you also need to relax from time to time, Rick," you smirked, voice as sweet as ever, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heart beating through the sweaty shirt. "You're wound up so tight, it's gotta hurt after a while."

He laughed—loud, humorless. "Yeah? And you think you're the solution?"

You leaned in, lips stopping near the stubble on his jaw. "I could be."

Rick's hand slid higher, fingers moving along your spine, pulling your body closer until your hips met his. You felt it—his cock—hard and thick, pressing against your belly.

No, he wasn't fooling anyone. And he definitely wasn't fooling you.

"This isn't a good idea," he grumbled, voice still strained.

You moved your hips, slowy on purpose, grinding against him, feeling the twitch in his cock through his pants. "Dunno. Feels like a good idea to me."

"Jesus, f-fuck…" He stuttered, but he didn't move.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, your smirk turning into a warm smile. "Unless… you can't handle it."

Rick's eyes looked to yours. For a moment, the world stood still—the distant voices near the farmhouse, the rustle of leaves, and even the clucking of chickens felt far away.

He leaned in, so close his lips barely touched yours when he spoke.

"Don't fuckin' test me. This is wrong." His voice was almost a growl. "I got a wife. I got a son."

You could feel the words scraping his throat like they physically hurt coming out.

"Oh, now you remember?" You shot back, eyes narrowing. "That didn't stop you from staring every damn time I bent over. Since Atlanta."

Rick flinched, just barely, but it was there. His grip slipped for half a second before tightening again.

"Don't—"

"What? Tell the truth? You don't want me to tell the truth?" You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper again. "You've been watching me. You think I didn't notice? The way your eyes stared at me, the way you tensed up when I walked by?"

Rick's jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might dislocate itself.

"Doesn't matter," he spat out, like saying it again would make it real, make it matter. "I'm married."

"Yeah? And Lori's really faithful, huh?"

His whole body went still. Rigid.

"Just," he warned, but his voice had lost its bite. "Just stop it."

"I'm just saying!" You tilted your head. "Maybe I'm not the only one who's been looking for… comfort. And I bet you know it and knew it for some time now."

Rick didn't say a word. His grip on you loosened again, and that was all you needed to push him further.

"What's the matter, Rick? Don't like hearing the truth? You really think Shane's out there teaching Andrea how to shoot right now? Or is he too busy teaching Lori how to fuck like a married woman should? Who knows, right?"

Rick's breath hitched—a little—but it was enough.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. You're really still holding onto that lie of a marriage, aren't you?" You pressed, leaning in just a little closer. "That picture-perfect family you've convinced yourself is still intact while the world's gone to shit?"

You didn't miss how his chest rose and fell faster, heavier.

"Fuck you," he spat, but it wasn't anger—it was defeat.

"Maybe you should."

That was it.

He lunged forward, pushing his mouth against yours, teeth clashing, lips bruising. It wasn't a kiss—it was punishment, it was desperation, it was everything all at once.

His hands were everywhere—one tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, the other gripping your ass so hard you swore he'd leave marks behind.

You gasped against him, but it only opened you up for more, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, deep and unforgiving.

Your hands clawed at his shirt, nails scraping against the sweaty fabric, trying to pull him closer, closer, like there was any space left between you.

Rick shoved you harder against the chicken coop wall as you hooked a leg around his hip, grinding up against his hard cock through his pants.

"Just… just keep it quiet," he growled against you. "Or someone'll hear."

But the risk only made it more exciting.

Your hips ground into his, chasing friction, and Rick groaned, biting down on your shoulder to muffle it in need. He seemed caught between wanting to shove you away and drag you closer.

"This isn't right…" He whispered, more to himself than to you, but his hands kept you in place, fingers digging into your body. "You may be an adult, but you're still too young for me."

You huffed a laugh, breathing against his neck. "But not too young for you to stare at, huh?"

Both his hands moved before his mind could catch up, grabbing your hips and suddenly lifting you like you weighed nothing. You gasped, both of your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, the sundress riding up to your hips, leaving nothing between you but his pants straining against his cock.

Rick slammed you back against the chicken coop with force before his mouth was on yours again—messy and wet. One hand went under your ass while the other slid up, muffling the needy sounds coming from your lips against his shoulder.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before he was undoing his belt with one hand, fumbling, cursing quietly to himself when it didn't want to at first. The sound of it opening, the noise of a zipper, and then he was free, hard and leaking, pressing against you, twitching and throbbing.

He hesitated for a second, forehead pressed to yours, his breathing ragged.

"This is your last chance to tell me to stop," he growled out, barely holding it together.

Your answer was a slow, greedy roll of your hips against him.

That was all it took.

Rick pushed into you in one hard, punishing thrust, splitting you open around him, filling you so deep with his cock that it knocked the breath straight from your lungs.

Your muffled cry was swallowed against his shoulder still, his hand on the back of your head pushing you against him, his teeth sinking into your neck to silence the groans that tore from his own throat.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice ragged, hips slamming into yours again, harder this time as you clamped your legs around him. "So fuckin' tight and wet..."

The chicken coop creaked behind you, every thrust of his hips against yours making you think the noise may be way too loud in the warm summer air, and that sooner or later, someone might catch you, after all.

"Stay quiet," he growled again, but his voice was shaky, sounding desperate. His hand didn't leave the back of your head, his palm sweaty against your disheveled hair. "Stay quiet…"

But the risk—the danger and wrongness of it—only made you feel higher, made you feel him more.

Anyone could walk by. Carol. Shane. Dale. Daryl. Lori. Anyone else from the group. Hell, even the Greenes.

But Rick didn't stop. He didn't slow down.

His grip on you only tightened, bruising, holding you open and steady for him, pushing into you over and over, harder and deeper.

The heat of summer, the sweat of your bodies, the sound of his shaky breathing in your ear—it was overwhelming, delicious. And exactly what you wanted.

"Goddamn it…" He cursed to himself, his face still buried in your neck, before the hand in your hair moved to cover your mouth.

But still, he held back. His pace was slow, and he wasn't chasing the end of it—of this—not yet.

It was punishment. It was control.

And it was slipping.

The way his breath hitched, the ragged growls that came from his throat—he was losing it, fast.

His hand remained against your mouth, but it wasn't as rough it could be. His chest rose and fell quickly as if the restraint was killing him. His eyes, when he pulled his head back to look at you, opened for a moment. They were wild, like a man fighting against a storm that was brewing inside himself.

"You need to stop," he groaned, taking his hand away again.

You arched into him, bouncing up and down on his cock in perfect rhythm, urging him on as you held on tight. "Me? And what about you? Are you sure you can, Rick?" Your voice was sweet and teasing, and it made his breath hitch. "You've been staring at me all this time. You've been fuckin' dreaming about this, haven't you?"

"Don't push me."

But you didn't listen. You never did.

One of your hands slid from his shoulder, down his chest, feeling him tense up even more. Slowly, you ran your fingers over his abs, letting him fuck you just the way he wanted to.

"What would Lori think if she saw us like this?" You suddenly whispered, eyes looking up to meet his as you bit your lower lip, leaning in closer. "Does she ever wonder why you look at me like that? Why you don't stop staring when I walk past? You think she's worried?"

Rick's whole body went still for a moment, but he stayed inside you. He let out a deep, controlled breath, but his eyes never left yours. You could see the fight in him, the battle to do the right thing, to not cross that line. But it was already crossed—crossed faster than he'd ever care to admit.

You moved your hips against his all over, dragging a moan from him as your legs tightened around his waist. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

The words were poison, but Rick was too far gone to stop himself from letting them sink in.

"Don't… don't talk about her."

You smirked, feeling a rush of power, the heat of the moment making your heart race faster. "But it's true, isn't it? She doesn't need to know about us. She's too busy with Shane, right? You wouldn't be here if you didn't know. You wouldn't want this if…"

His eyes narrowed at the mention of Shane, and you saw the doubt on his face. But then his hips moved, fucking into you harder, faster, almost like he was trying to forget the words you'd just said.

You slid one hand up to his face, fingers moving slowly along the line of his jaw, urging him to look at you. "You want this. You want me. You can't stop yourself, and I know it."

His hands clenched on your body, as if the meaning of your words was pushing him further into those thoughts he'd been fighting against. The ache between your legs grew unbearable, the need for him, the craving for him deeper than before. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his body barely holding on, his legs trying not to buckle, but still not giving in.

"You're wrong…" He groaned, but his eyes told a different story. His breath was coming faster now, uneven, like he was trying to resist the unavoidable. But the heat between you both couldn't be ignored.

Your mouth found his again, lips teasing, pressing against his in slow, sensual kisses. You moved against him once more until he hissed, his grip tightening once again.

"Am I really? Because… I think you like this," you whispered against his lips, your breath coming in quick bursts of moans. "I think you like knowing you could still fuck me even with all the other shit going on. You love it, Rick."

His lips trembled against yours, with him thrusting into you like he was trying to rid himself of any thought other than this, just the two of you at this moment.

"Because you've been teasing' me all damn day," he whispered as if he was choking on the words. "Walking around like that, letting me see everything—"

"Wanted you to look," you gasped, bouncing harder on him, shameless. "Wanted you to fuck me."

"Goddamn dress," Rick moaned as he squeezed you harder, his fingers now bruising your flesh as he pushed into you faster. "Knew you weren't wearin' a fuckin' thing under this. Knew you wanted me to see it."

"I did," you gasped, your words breaking. "Wanted you to—oh, fuck—do this!"

Rick's mouth found your neck, his beard brushing against your tingling skin as he bit and kissed a sloppy trail along your throat. You could feel him everywhere—his hands, his cock, his lips—taking you in a way that was so real and desperate that it left you trembling and made it hard for your legs to keep holding on.

You bucked against him, moving your hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust as your moans grew a little bit louder, but Rick silenced you by crashing his mouth to yours, his tongue sliding against yours with the same urgency as his movements.

"I feel you," he then groaned against your lips, his voice cracking. His grip on your ass softened slightly as if he couldn't decide between fucking you senseless or worshipping you. "You're close, aren't you? You're gonna come for me, won't you?"

"Y-yes," you whimpered quietly, your nails raking over his shoulders through his shirt. "Rick, don't stop—please, don't stop—not now."

His thrusts stopped for half a second, and then he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts deep and on purpose now, dragging out the feeling with every inch of his cock sliding into you. He was pulling you impossibly closer, grinding his hips into yours so you could feel every inch of him.

"Come for me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice was softer now, gentler, but no less frustrated. "Let me feel you... Let me see and feel you come on my cock."

You couldn't stop yourself. You came with a silent cry, eyes wide, your pussy clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through you in an instant. Rick groaned in response, his grip tightening on you again as he kept moving, drawing out every shiver and whimper.

But he didn't stop. Not yet. You felt him still holding back, his cock throbbing inside you, a tiny drop of sweat rolling down his face. His thrusts slowed even further, almost agonizingly sensual now as if he was savoring every second.

"Rick…" You whispered, your voice hoarse, your fingers trying to hold on to his shoulders again. His eyes met yours once more, searching, and questioning, before he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his thrusts slowing to a stop as he fought to regain control.

"I can't," he stammered. "I shouldn't."

He was still fighting it. Fighting you. And himself.

You shifted slightly, a sensual roll of your hips that made him hiss through his teeth. "Don't," he groaned, his voice trembling. "You don't understand what you're doing, what this is gonna—"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," you interrupted. "I've been waiting for this all day, Rick. For so damn long. Don't hold back on me now."

Before he could protest, you were gripping his shoulders even harder. With one slow motion, you lifted yourself, feeling every inch of his cock slide out of your pussy, only to drop back down hard, taking him to the hilt again before starting to bounce up and down.

Rick cursed, the sound ripping from his throat as his head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut. His control cracked instantly, both his hands now holding on to your ass, grabbing you like he needed to hold on as you were the one to set the rhythm this time. You rode him with everything you had, grinding down on him as you bounced, the muscles of your thighs burning with the effort but your need pushing you harder.

Each thrust pulled him deeper, the head of his cock brushing against your G-spot that made you shudder and clench around him, tearing more curses from his lips.

"Goddamn it," he growled, his voice shaking. "You're gonna—fuck—you're gonna make me—"

"That's the idea," you gasped, your nails raking down his shoulders. "Don't fight it, Rick. Let go. Fuck me."

His eyes went shut, his expression full of desperate need that sent a thrill through you. He was close, so close, and you wanted him to let go. You kept riding him, harder, faster, until his hands trembled against your ass, his breathing turning into whimpering, uneven moans.

And then, just as he tensed, his body going rigid beneath you, you stopped.

Rick's eyes flew open in shock, his hips jerking up instinctively as he chased the orgasm you'd just denied him. But you were already sliding off him with a smirk on your face.

He stood there with his pants shoved halfway down his legs, his cock throbbing in your hand as you kneeled in front of him. His chest rose and fell like he'd just run a marathon, and yet, he still had this damn look on his face. Like he was trying to convince himself that none of this was happening. That he wasn't about to let you do this.

But he'd already failed. Miserably.

"Rick…" You whispered, your voice teasing him on purpose, lips kissing the tip of his leaking cock as you looked up at him. Your fingers tightened their hold while sliding up his shaft, smearing the pre-cum around the tip.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. For a second, his eyes looked out into the distance, scanning the open fields and the rest of the farm beyond the chicken coop. Guilt was seen on his face, written all over it.

But then his gaze dropped back to you, to your lips. To where you knelt in the dirt, the sundress bunched around your thighs, one hand holding his throbbing cock, and he knew there wasn't a single thing in the world that could stop him from wanting this right now.

"But… this isn't right," he still tried to convinve himself, and his body betrayed him, a drop of pre-cum dripping down as you dragged your thumb along his tip again.

"Sure," you answered, leaning in to let your tongue lick across the head of his cock. He hissed through his teeth, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to pull you back up but couldn't. "Because standing here with your dick in my hand after fucking me is real loyal of you, huh?"

Rick then remembered Atlanta, finding Lori and Carl alive, the relief that had made him feel like everything was about to feel right in the world again. But that feeling had disappeared quickly, hadn't it?

He hadn't forgotten the way Shane had acted—shocked, protective, too close to Carl and his wife. And Lori? Somewhat distant and confused. He wasn't stupid. He could see it. Feel it. Something had been broken long before he ever came back.

And now here you were. Young, bold, shameless. A part of him wanted to shove you away, to walk the hell back to the farmhouse, and pretend this never happened.

But you looked up at him like he was the last man on Earth. Like he was everything. And that hunger in your eyes—he hadn't felt wanted and desired like that in years. Maybe ever.

You leaned in again, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, dragging it up slowly, savoring every inch of him like he was only yours to take.

"Fuck—don't stop," he groaned, his voice cracking, and his hand grabbing the back of your head.

You wrapped your lips around his cock, taking him in deep, slow at first, letting him feel the warmth your mouth. His hips bucked involuntarily, his shaft pushing deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

But when you raised your hand to grip him tighter again, Rick growled, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away. "Don't," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Instead, he gripped himself, holding his cock steady as he pulled out and pressed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum across them. "Open up," he ordered.

You did, letting your lips part wide, your tongue sliding out to taste him. Rick groaned again, his head falling back for a moment as he guided his cock into your mouth, pushing in deeper this time, fucking into it.

"Shit," he hissed through his teeth, his free hand still tangling in your hair as he held you still. "You—shit—you feel so goddamn good."

Your hands rested on his thighs now, nails digging in as you let him set the pace. It was messy, wet, sloppy. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he thrust shallowly, just enough to keep himself right on the edge.

Rick couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop.

All he could see was you—on your knees, looking up at him with those innocent eyes, lips stretched around his cock, taking him like you were made for it. And it felt so good it was almost unbearable.

"God, what the hell am I doing…" He groaned quietly, his hips trembling. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Not when you were pulling him deeper, harder, your tongue working over him like you wanted to suck him empty.

His grip on your hair tightened, his cock twitching in your mouth as he fought to keep control. But when you moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight through him, he lost it.

Rick pulled back suddenly, his cock slipping from your mouth in an instant. You looked up at him, lips shiny, cheeks all red and hot, as he stroked himself, his hand and cock wet with your spit.

"You're gonna make me come," he groaned, his eyes locked on your lips.

He pressed the tip of his cock to them again, smearing the pre-cum across them, down your chin, his strokes turning faster and rougher. You opened your mouth, trying to take him back in, but Rick held you still, teasing himself against your lips, the head of his cock nudging against your tongue.

And then he came.

A loud moan escaped his throat as his cum shot all across your mouth, so warm and thick. You stuck your tongue out, catching what you could, swallowing it greedily as he smeared the rest across your lips with the tip of his cock.

Rick was shaking, his body trembling as he pumped himself through it, every bit of tension leaving him as he watched you lick your lips clean, swallowing every drop.

When he was done, he just stood there, staring down at you like he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"Shit," he whispered, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

You stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off your knees and adjusting the sundress. Rick's eyes followed your every move, staying on your lips, your throat, and your breasts. He looked like a man torn in two, his guilt fighting with his loyalty.

"This… can't happen again," he said, finally breaking the silence. "Shouldn't."

You smirked, stepping closer, your hand moving along his chest, fingers toying with the open collar of his shirt before moving to the waistband of his pants. The belt still hung loose, his zipper still undone, and you tugged on the leather lightly.

"Whatever you say… Sheriff Grimes."

Rick sucked in a quick breath as you leaned in, your lips kissing his cheek lightly. And then, just like that, you pulled back and walked away.

The sundress moved in the evening wind with every step, the warm summer breeze lifting it just enough to reveal your naked ass once more.

But Rick remained where he was, his chest still heaving, his mind a mess of want and guilt and so many more feelings he couldn't even name.

He then reached down, adjusting himself with shaky hands, tucking his now soft cock back into his pants. The belt slipped from his fingers once before he managed to buckle it, fumbling with the leather as his legs threatened to give out, not yet closing the zipper. Finally, he leaned back against the chicken coop, dragging his hands over his face.

What the hell had he just done?

His throat was all dry, his whole body still shaking with the feeling of your touch. He'd always thought of himself as a good man, hadn't he? A loyal husband. A good father.

But standing there, with his pants still half-open and the taste of sin on his lips, he didn't feel like either.

As soon as Rick was about to leave, a sudden movement caught his eye, and his stomach dropped, twisting itself into a tight knot that made him want to vomit on the spot.

Shane.

The other man was walking back toward the tents, Andrea at his side and stumbling slightly behind him. Shane looked casual like he didn't have a care in the world, but as he looked around to scan the surroundings for any danger, his eyes immediately stayed on Rick.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

He felt exposed, uncomfortable, like Shane could see everything—the guilt written all over his face, the smell of sex still clinging to his skin and his clothes.

And then Shane's head moved, his eyes following Rick's next line of sight.

You.

You were halfway back with walking to the tents, the sundress moving in the breeze again, the curve of your bare ass showing itself for another second. Shane tilted his head, his expression unreadable, his mouth twitching like he was holding back a loud laugh.

Rick saw it, though. Right there, on Shane's face. Amusement? Judgment? Maybe a little of both.

By now, Rick felt like he was suffocating under the weight of it all—Lori, Carl, you, Shane. Everything.

Because Shane was no saint. He knew that. It was like you had said before; he knew it for some time now. His best friend had slept with Lori, and maybe even wanted to take his place. But right now? Rick wasn't sure he was any better than him.

He pushed himself off the chicken coop, his boots kicking the dirt as he turned toward the farmhouse. He didn't say a word as he passed Shane, didn't even look at him.

But he could feel Shane's eyes on him, the smirk burning into the back of his skull like a brand.

As Rick walked back toward the tent where Lori was sleeping with Carl at her side, his heart was still racing. And he felt how his mouth tasted dry—no, worse—like you.

It tasted like sin—devouring him whole.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I wrote this a bit quicker than usual. I know, I know, I’m a slow writer, sorry about that! Please bear with me. I tried my best to clean up any repetition or grammar mistakes, and since this is my first Rick Grimes oneshot in a while, I’m honestly a little nervous to even share it. I still feel like there might be some missing details or areas that could’ve been expanded more, but I hope you still enjoyed it.

SONG RECOMMENDATION ⁀➴ 「VANDENBERG ⋮ SIN」

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part three

PART I • PART II • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U •  P A R T T H R E E 🎶 thick skull ( re: julien baker ), paramore ft. julien baker

❝ GOOD GIRLS DON’T CRY & GOOD GIRLS DON’T LIE & GOOD GIRLS JUSTIFY BUT I DON’T ❞

“Think she’s okay?”

“Shh!”

“What? No way she can hear us back here.”

“Dustin, ‘back here’ is literally a seat behind her.”

Sat quietly at a table seat in the Winnebago, Eddie looking on worriedly across from you, you were still grappling with the fact that you were alive. That you didn’t die. That you were breathing fresh air and free from the dark and free from Him.

For now.

And as the RV bumped down the road out of Hawkins you said nothing. Felt Steve’s eyes on you constantly as he glanced at you in the rearview. Eddie’s hand still holding tight to yours after he helped you up, afraid to lose you again. Dustin and Lucas and Max all talking in not-so-hushed voices behind you about what it all meant and if El could get back in time and was this all gonna be enough?

Voice thick and choked by the sobs that had felt endless, you’d managed to tell everyone what Vecna had showed you. Told them about Hawkins, about the monsters, about your family, about them. Eddie, Robin, Nancy Steve. And no one had said anything at first. The sounds of your cries filling up the RV. Stark against the silence and heavy with the weight of your words and they knew before you’d even opened your mouth that it was going to be bad.

Of course they knew.

But now that Vecna had revealed his master plan, the efforts you were all making just felt hopeless. The munitions stuffed under the bench seats and closets and cabinets, all puny and worthless against Vecna and his army of nightmares.

A big bump in the road brought you out of your thoughts and when you glanced up your eyes met Steve’s as he snuck another look in the rear view. And instead of glaring, instead of flipping him the bird, you looked right back. Held his gaze for moment longer and he didn’t shy away until he came up on a turn-off.

“Alright, shitheads. We’re here.”

“Here?” Lucas asked, more than confused at the thick forest Steve was now driving you all through.

“Yeah, this is it.”

And as the trees slowly thinned out, thick grass and wildflower blooms took their place. Creeping out ahead of you to reveal a meadow, wide and green and lush. A haven that felt so very far away, felt safe, and as Steve parked and the engine quieted you let out the breath you’d been holding.

❝ MAYBE IF YOU JUST GOT SOME GUTS WE’D KILL ‘EM WITH A THOUSAND CUTS AND SAY WE DID IT OUT OF LOVE ❞

Everyone piled out of the RV and got after their tasks. Pretended like preparing for the end of the world was totally normal and routine. Nancy and Robin sawing off the end of a shotgun. Lucas and Erica attempting to make spears from tactical knives and broom handles. Eddie and Dustin shoving each other around in the grass with their garbage can lids full of nails at their feet and none of it instilled you with confidence, but Dustin screaming No wedgies! did manage to pull a little smile out of you.

And for a split second it felt okay.

Laughter, the sound of birds, the feeling of the wind on your bare skin and all the green around you – so unlike the cracked and bitter feeling in the Upside Down and then your smile fell.

You wished He hadn’t shown you.

Wished Vecna had just left you alone. Wished for just a moment that you hadn’t gone to Max’s trailer and put yourself in the middle of all this, but then Eddie grabbed Dustin in a big bear hug and your chest squeezed.

Your best friend.

The reason why you had gone to Max’s trailer.

The reason why you weren’t going to run.

The reason this was all worth it.

“Ah, shit.”

Sat next to you, Steve sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. The funnel in your hands slipping as you lost focus and liquid trickled down your hands and wrists.

“Hold it still,” Steve quickly tipped back his can of kerosene and set it down to grab a piece of ripped towel.

A string of curses were muttered under your breath, so much for homemade molotov cocktails.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment you went to wipe your hands on your sweater, but when you looked back up at Steve he was looking too. Eyes searching yours, unsure and tentative. Moles dotting along his cheeks and jaw like tiny constellations. Skin gold like it held summer and when you blinked away the haze of him, you realized he was reaching out to you.

“Here, get that off so it doesn’t burn,” he said a little softer. Cloth in one hand, he took yours in the other and wiped at the kerosene.

Oh, fell from your lips. Surprised. Unsure. Your skin buzzing where he touched you and you swallowed thick as you felt your pulse flutter against your neck.

“Uh–here, you can get the rest,” Steve said quickly, like he’d felt it too and hastily passed the cloth off to you, dropping your hand to wipe his on his jeans.

“Thanks,” you mumbled back.

It was quiet for a moment as he cleared his throat and picked up his can of kerosene again. You followed suit and grabbed your empty vodka bottle and funnel. Wordlessly he leaned over to hold your hand in his and once it was steady began pouring again, eyes flicking over to look at you.

“I’m an asshole,” he suddenly admitted, breaking the silence, and you had to focus really hard to not fumble the bottle again.

“I didn’t say it,” you started and he chuckled under his breath. A low, warm thing that made the air around you fizzle and crack like bonfires down at the quarry.

“Didn’t say you did,” he gently pushed back, lips still tugged up into a small, wry smile, but it faded the longer he looked at you. “Listen. I know we aren’t…well, I know I don’t have a great track record,” he said and the change in his tone surprised you. Told you he was serious and you had to look away to try to gather yourself back up again.

"No, really?" you said, all sarcasm, and he huffed another laugh.

“Hah hah,” he joked, weakly at first, and then his expression shifted more serious. “I just wanted to say that…well, that you have every right to be here it’s just–” the boy hummed around his words. Dropped his gaze down to where your hands met on the kerosene filled vodka bottle and put the can on the ground.

Talking to you like this, showing weakness and vulnerability, made him feel so exposed. Uncomfortable. Unable to find the right words and his tongue jammed into his cheek as he tried to decide just how honest he wanted to be.

With you.

“It’s just–everything about the Upside Down wants to kill you and it’s like–” he sighed heavy and carded a hand through his already messy hair. “I dunno. How many more people have to die? You know?” and then he was looking at you again. Really looking, really asking, and for a second it made you doubt everything you felt about him.

Jock. Asshole. King Steve.

No second chances, remember?

“Can I ask you something?” you heard yourself say and you could feel the muddled mixture of nerves and frustration and anticipation buzzing under your skin. Everything you’d been holding onto all this time pent up and pushing against the wall you’d built around it. Waiting waiting waiting for you to set it loose.

“Oh–sure, yeah.”

“Why are you really here?”

Steve’s eyes grew wide and he sat back on his milk crate, hands squeezing at the tops of his thighs.

“Why am I here?”

“Yeah. Do you really care about Eddie?”

Steve’s eyes darted back over to where Eddie and Dustin were hammering more nails into their garbage can lids and maybe you were impatient or maybe Steve was stalling, but you didn’t want to wait.

“Cos you didn’t care about him before.”

“B-before? I don’t–what d'you mean–”

Steve was stumbling over himself now, struggling to own the words you put on him and frustration grew warm in your chest, but you tried hard to swallow it down. Tried hard to let him prove Eddie’s theory of change.

“High school, Harrington,” you started, trying to keep your tone even and calm. “Yelled at us in the quad? Tossed people’s books in the hallway? Threw fries at us in the cafeteria.” You paused, debated whether or not you wanted to tack more on, and then you thought of Tommy and it came out all on its own, “Let your friends say really shitty things to me.”

Steve’s gaze dropped down to his feet and he didn’t say anything at first, not a word, and you kicked yourself for even bothering to think he’d be able to handle it. Of course he couldn’t.

“You know what–nevermind,” you mumbled, capping your bottle and moving to stand, but his hand grabbed yours and pulled you back down onto your milk crate.

“Wait. Please?”

And the way he was looking at you was pained, the pinch between his brows deep, and it made you pause. Was Eddie right? The way Steve cared for these kids, for your best friend, showed clearly something had shifted in him, but was it enough?

“Wait for what, Harrington? So you can show me things are different now?” your voice was softer, but hurt, “Because Eddie swears you’ve changed, but you still sound just like Tommy.”

The mention of his ex-best friend felt like getting the wind knocked out of him. He knew Tommy was wrong now. Hell, he knew it back then too. Knew how fucked up it'd been in the parking lot at the school, but he hadn’t had the guts to say anything. Couldn’t stand up to him or tell him off because he ‘had a reputation to uphold’ and what would everyone else say if he went ‘soft on a freak’?

“I–I know. I fucked up. I get it and I don’t know how I can prove it to you, but–” he started truthfully, hand still holding yours, thumb shifting softly against your palm, “–but I am. Really sorry.”

Really sorry.

Finally. After all those years. After everything he’d said and done, but sorry didn’t fix it. Or take any of it back. Was it too late?

Reluctantly you pulled your hand away from Steve’s, his fingers flexing as they fell away from yours, wanting to hold on just a little bit longer but you weren’t ready.

“You know that doesn’t fix it, right?” you said quietly, glancing up at Steve through the long sweep of your lashes and guilt settled heavy over him.

He knew it didn’t fix it. Knew all too well that words didn’t mean shit, but he would be the first to admit he was a slow learner. Crawl before you walk. Hit your head and maybe something will suddenly make sense and when it came to you? Vecna had been like a sucker punch.

You were strong-willed. Didn’t take shit lying down. Were fiercely loyal to your best friend and just wanted to try to help and it had taken Steve a minute to realize – in your eyes he was still bullshit, but he didn’t want to be. It wasn’t going to be easy, not in the least, but just like you he wanted to try.

“I know it doesn’t fix it.”

His eyes squeezed shut so he didn’t have to look at you. Tried to make it easier on himself as he pushed through the discomfort of taking responsibility for his actions. Tongue running along his bottom lip, just like it always did when his brain was working overtime, he finally looked back up at you.

“I’m not asking you for forgiveness or–or to be my friend or anything. I just want you know I really am sorry. For all of it. Okay?”

Sitting there so close to him, your hands inches away from touching, holding each other’s gaze as you listened to the words falling from his lips in sincerity – it was almost too much. The wall you’d built around yourself cracking and straining against this new feeling that had settled in your chest, but the words wouldn’t come to you as your lips parted and you tried and pull yourself together but–

“Dammit, Eddie, no wedgies!”

Dustin’s voice cut through the silence that had settled and Steve reflexively sat up. Pushed himself away from whatever it was you’d waded into together. Away from sorry and the feeling of your hands pressed together and the look you gave him through the long sweep of your lashes and the way you made his heart race. Turned away from you and played it off.

“Hey! Less dicking around, more putting shit together!” he yelled at Dustin and Eddie flipped him off without looking.

“Like you’re doing anything important, big boy!” Eddie hollered back and the way it made Steve’s cheeks grow pink made your lips twitch with a smile you had to work hard to hold back.

“Shut up,” Steve muttered at Eddie, but mostly to himself, and stood from his milk crate to put your filled vodka bottle into the box with the rest.

You watched quietly as he placed the last bottle in and folded the cardboard shut. Muscles tensing and pulling taut as he worked, moving against the fabric of his shirt and you quickly looked away for fear of being caught.

Then your eye caught his nail covered bat tipped against side of the Winnebago and the threat of the Upside Down and all its nasties wrapped around you tight like a vice.

Oh.

Right.

The end of the world.

Just a few yards away Nancy pulled the trigger on her shotgun, the sound making you flinch, and it hit you like a ton of bricks – you had absolutely no clue how to defend yourself against this. Against Him. Against an army from hell. You knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the crotch and you’d always had an arm on you from playing volleyball, but none of that had anything to do with monsters. Or guns. Or nail covered bats.

“Uhm–” came out mumbled, more sound than word, and it pulled Steve’s attention up from the box.

“What’s that?”

“Can you–er–would you maybe show me how to swing that?” you asked and it made him turn to face you, giving you his full attention.

“What?”

Your cheeks grew hot.

“That bat,” you said shifting uncomfortably on your crate, “I don’t think–I can't shoot a gun.”

Steve’s expression softened as he remembered what it'd felt like the first time he saw a demogorgon. The first time he swung that very bat into the side of a demodog. The first time this world had been exposed to him and he knew how overwhelming and absolutely crazy it all felt.

Grabbing the bat in his hand he gave you a small smile and took the few steps back over to you.

“Sure. It’s not too hard. You know, just aim and swing.”

“Just aim and swing?” your tone was flat, all skeptics, a defensive move against his kindness and it made him chuckle.

“Well, there’s probably more to it than that, but those stupid bats are thick enough when they swarm it’d be hard for anyone to miss.”

Your eyes grew wide at the thought of swarming bats and it made him laugh again, a half-grimace pulling at his features.

“Shit, sorry. Uh–here,” readjusting his grip he bent his knees a bit and dug his heel into the ground. “Just make sure you get a wide stance, yeah? Like, hip width apart? And don’t be afraid to choke up on your hold. It’ll make your swings hit harder.”

He swung the bat and the sound it made as it cut through the air made your breath catch in your throat.

“Wanna try?” the boy held the crude weapon out to you and you swallowed thick. Stood up from your own milk crate and tentatively took it from him.

It was heavy in your hands, heavier than you thought it’d be, but smooth. You did as he said and slid your hands up a little further on the handle and tried a swing, but threw yourself off balance and stumbled forward.

“Ah, that’s okay. Here, uh–” Steve stepped in behind you and placed his hands over yours on the bat, “–try again, but follow through with your hip. Your grip’s good, just don’t throw your full weight forward.”

The warmth of his chest on your back made your cheeks burn again. Made your heart race. Hammering against your ribcage as he slowly took you through the motion again.

“Then when you get to the end of the swing, follow with your hip," his voice was much quieter over your shoulder, words falling into your ear and making you dizzy as he tried so damn hard to keep his focus. Placed a hand on your waist to guide it and toed your foot forward with his shoe as he took a step. “See?”

“Yeah,” was all you could manage, the feeling of his breath on your neck trailing goosebumps across your skin and you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way the closeness of him pulled your gaze and when you looked up he was looking too.

“Does that–uh–did that make sense?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper and you nodded. A small thing that barely registered and he was so close now. Close enough his nose nearly brushed your cheek, getting closer by the second and–

“Harrington! Where are those bottles? I gotta get ‘em loaded up!” Eddie yelled from the other side of the RV and the space between you shattered. Both of you stepping away as though you’d touched a hot stove and you pressed the bat into Steve’s hands.

“Should probably get ready,” you muttered and he nodded, cleared his throat and took two big steps back to set the bat down.

“Coming!” Steve called back as he scooped up the box of molotov cocktails, bottles clinking against each other as he walked away and disappeared around the corner of the RV.

King Steve turned Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington turned something else.

Something more.

Something you thought you’d written off.

Something that held you so tightly now it made you want to run, but at the back of your mind, somewhere soft and warm, you couldn’t help wondering what might happen if you didn’t.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART THREE OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[bobbyfloyd]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part two: under pressure

read part one here

series info: read the synopsis here. find the series masterlist here. listen to the playlist here

description: in which you decide to face your fears

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, mentions of character death, grief, blood and injury, angst with a positive ending, panic attack, allusions to sex, eventual smut, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say anything about reader's family in fics but i do mention them having an unnamed great-aunt, as it was necessary to the plot

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

word count: 11,838

notes: this story is inspired by twisters. you do not have to watch the movie in order to understand this story, because aside from the storm chasing aspect, it has nothing to do with the twister universe. i've been working on this story for 2 months straight, and it is my pride and joy. i am so excited for everyone to read it! without further adieu, here is we own the sky!

You curled up beneath the covers that night, eager to get some much-needed rest after a day spent cleaning and socializing. Your body was so weary, and as you snuggled into the softness of Rhett’s bed, your eyes grew heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow, and you drifted off into dreamland. 

But a few hours later, you woke to the sound of your name being sharply whispered into the gray morning light. It took a moment for you to draw yourself to consciousness, climbing your way out of layers of dreams, before your eyes flew open and you found yourself staring into Rhett’s face. 

“Hey, sorry t’ wake ya so early, but there’s storm activity over by Sapulpa. Wanna come with us?” He asked, voice low. 

You squinted, glancing over at the small digital clock on the nightstand. It was barely five in the morning. It had only been a few hours since you’d pledged to go on a chase with Rhett. You had certainly not been prepared for it to be this soon. 

“Fuck it,” you grumbled, tossing the covers off. “I’ll come.”

“You don’t have to if—”

“I’m comin’,” came your sharp reply. You hurried to your suitcase, where you dug out some clothes to change into. 

“Alright, I’ll be in the truck.” He kept his voice at a whisper, but there was an excitement in his tone, electricity in the air. 

When he left the room, you let out a breath, a shudder running through your body. The beginnings of adrenaline had begun to course through you, and your heart rate picked up as you realized what was happening. This was it. You’d made a bet and now you had to follow through with it. 

So, running off of four hours of sleep, with a body that ached from exhaustion, you got dressed, shoved your feet into your shoes, grabbed your phone, and quietly scurried out into the hall and down the steps. 

You were surprised to see Cecilia in the kitchen doorway, waiting for you. “Take this,” she said, placing a paper bag full of breakfast goods such as granola bars and homemade muffins in your hands. Then she patted your hand. “And be careful, you hear me? Both of you.”

“We will be,” you assured her. 

She didn’t seem at all surprised that you were going. Either Rhett had already told her, or she’d simply assumed you would end up going at some point. 

After you bid her goodbye, you burst through the front door and onto the porch, shoes scraping against wood as you bounded down the steps. You jogged to the truck, and in the distance, you could see an F150 and an RV coming down the road. 

The team was coming together. It was time to chase down some twisters. 

With your heart pounding in your chest and your hands trembling, you climbed into the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck, shoving the bag of food down onto the floorboards. Rhett was already in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio dial, trying to find a weather broadcast. 

“Y’ready for this?” He asked you.

A shuddering breath escaped your lungs. “As I’ll ever be.” A lie. You were nowhere near ready for this. But you’d already made a promise, so you had to stick it out. 

“Hey,” Rhett continued, bumping your arm gentle with his own. “If you need to stop at any point, just let me know, alright?”

You mustered a smile. “I will,” you promised. You folded your hands in your lap so they’d stop shaking. 

Moments later, after the team pulled in, you glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Zara jump out of the Ford, headed for you and Rhett. With her thick curls piled into a bun atop her head, a pair of smart denim shorts and a tucked in button-down with the sleeves rolled up, she looked ready to get down to business. 

When she saw you, her face broke into a grin. “You’re coming!” She exclaimed, speaking through the truck window Rhett had just opened. 

“Yeah! Had to carry out my end of the bargain,” you told her, trying to sound humorous, but you were certain that your trepidation overshadowed any attempt at being funny.

She held up an iPad. “Here, I’ll let you monitor the radar, if you’re comfortable with that?” 

You looked at weather radar screens for a living. You were more than capable of monitoring the storm path, but you still felt your chest tighten with uncertainty. Even so, you reached out and took the device from her. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great! All of us communicate through walkies, so if you have any questions, just radio me.”

“I will. Thanks,” you replied with a nod. And then, “Oh! Here, have some breakfast for the road.” You reached into the bag from Cecilia and pulled out some muffins and breakfast bars, thrusting them into her hands. “Give some to Finn and Danny too!”

“Thank you! See ya on the road!” Then she was off, jogging back to the truck.

You settled back against the seat, breathing out a sigh. Beside you, Rhett leaned closer. “Hey,” he hummed, “you’re gon’ be just fine.”

You tried your best to believe him.

As he pulled onto the main road, headed toward Sapulpa, you unlocked the iPad, familiarizing yourself with its layout before you located the radar app. With trembling fingers, you put the location into the search bar and waited for it to pull the correct screen up.

Seconds later, there it was. A large, red colored cloud moving over the map, indicating severe weather activity. Sapulpa wasn’t too far away. A fifteen-minute drive and you’d be there. 

As Rhett drove, accelerating ten miles over the speed limit, you found yourself secretly hoping that you would not encounter a twister on this run. Maybe it would only be a storm. But you knew this area. You were more than familiar with the weather patterns here. 

You looked up at the sky, noticing the angry gray clouds in the distance, roiling with thunder and lightning, full of raindrops, just waiting to unleash their fury upon the earth below. 

It felt as if you were driving straight into the belly of the beast, and essentially, you were. 

Forcing your eyes back down to the screen in your lap, you studied the radar, taking notice of the severe weather banner that had just popped up across the screen. In your pocket, your phone buzzed, and you didn’t have to look at it to know that a tornado warning had been issued for the area. 

Oh, god. 

“Y’ still with me?” Rhett’s voice pulled your attention to him. 

“Yeah, I…I’m fine,” you lied right through your teeth. You glanced out the back window of the truck, and eyed the trailer full of nitrogen tanks, metal rattling loudly. 

It was up to you and Rhett to get these tanks into position. You had to face the danger head-on, get ahead of the potential twister, and make the drop, all while trying to avoid being blown off course by the wind. 

This was a suicide mission. 

But you refused to back out, swallowing your terror and keeping a close eye on the radar. You were getting closer to the brewing storm. Although it was early morning and the sun had just begun to rise, it was eerily dark, clouds casting a shadow over the rolling plains. 

As your gaze flickered to the fields that framed the stretch of highway, you watched the grass ripple in the wind. Without thinking, you moved to open the window, and a blast of humid air hit you in the face. 

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, and seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder made you jump. 

Beside you, Rhett eyed you briefly, unbeknownst to you. He was watching your body language, looking for any signs of distress. Just a few days ago, you’d sworn to him you couldn’t stomach the thought of chasing again. And now here you were, sitting beside him. 

He questioned if you were ready for this. But you seemed fine, so he left it alone. 

“How’s the radar lookin’?” He asked you.

You tore your gaze away from the sky, quickly pressing the button to shut the window before you looked at the screen. “It’s moving fast. Rain will probably hit soon.”

Before you even finished your sentence, the first few drops began pelting against the truck. Thunder rumbled. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You could hear Zara speaking over the radio, but you were too busy focusing on the sky, searching for any sign of funnel activity. Your limbs buzzed with adrenaline. Your chest felt tight. Your breathing was rushed. 

The rain gave way to hailstones, clattering against the truck, and the sky above took on a sickening green hue. 

Sirens began to wail, a haunting sound that made you want to cover your ears. You hadn’t heard those sirens in so long. Hearing them now transported you back to the day you’d lost your dearest friends. 

You could hear Rhett speaking your name, but he sounded so distant. You were too busy staring at the sky. And then the hail stopped, and aside from the sirens, the outside world was deafeningly quiet. 

You thought your terror was going to swallow you whole. 

“Talk to me!” Rhett finally exclaimed, grabbing your arm, pulling your attention to him. His eyes were wide, searching your face. 

But before you could speak, a loud roar drowned out any possible conversation. You turned back to the window, and you saw it. A funnel protruding from the sky. 

A twister had touched down. 

Rhett stomped on the gas, headed east, trying to get ahead of the twister so the trailer could be put in place. You were frozen, staring up at the phenomenon, body cold with fright. 

“I need you t’ stay with me, you hear?! You gotta keep an eye on it, I need to know where to drop the trailer!” He called out to you. 

“O-okay!” You managed to shout back. 

The truck moved faster and faster as Rhett fought to stay on track. You wanted to guide him. To communicate with him and tell him exactly what to do, where to go. But you couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. All you could see was that tornado, coming right at you. This was how your friends had died. Staring into the face of this vicious funnel. 

Was this how you were going to die?

“Rhett.”

“Am I at a good distance?!” 

Had he even heard you? “Stop.”

“Talk to me! Can I drop the trailer now?!”

“STOP!” 

Rhett glanced at you and he saw the distress on your face. He knew what he had to do. “Shit,” he swore. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he made a split second decision and violently yanked the wheel to the left, veering off the road and into the cornfield on the other side. 

He nearly lost control as the truck careened forward several miles, jostled against the uneven earth. You thrust your hands against the dashboard, fighting to hold yourself steady. The iPad in your lap went tumbling to the floor. 

“Rhett! What’s going on?!” Jeslyn shouted over the radio. 

He was too busy trying not to overturn the entire truck. When he slammed on the brakes, the force sent the entire trailer of nitrogen tanks on its side, snapping the hitch right off. 

Your fight or flight response kicked in, and in a desperate attempt to escape the situation, you threw your door open, unable to spend another minute in the claustrophobic truck cab. Rhett yelled your name, but you didn’t hear him over the roar of the wind. 

As soon as your feet hit the ground, you were running, eyes searching for a ditch or any sort of shelter. The wind whipped around you, its force pushing you along. You couldn’t see the twister over the high stalks of corn, but you didn’t need to see it to feel it.

Raw power, so overwhelming it took your breath away.

And then, all of a sudden, something solid collided with your back, and a pair of arms cinched around your waist. “Are you insane, girl?! Gon’ get yourself killed!” Rhett yelled over the storm.

You let out a shriek of surprise as he wrangled you to the ground, his body on top of yours, shielding you from the danger. 

And then, all at once, everything went silent. You heard the sound of crying. It took you a moment to realize the sound was coming from you.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got ya,” Rhett’s voice was in your ear, breathless and gruff. He moved to sit on the ground, pulling you up with him, tugging your body against his chest. You buried your face against the side of his neck and sobbed.

He held you tight, listening to you cry. The residual breeze from the storm blew through his hair. He’d lost his hat when he jumped out of the truck and ran after you, he realized. But that didn’t matter now. The danger was gone, but you were falling apart. 

He should have known this was a bad idea. But you’d insisted you could handle it. And now he was cradling you in his arms as your tears soaked into the collar of his shirt. He remembered so vividly holding you this way when Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia had been killed. He was hit with a deeply rooted pain, blossoming through his chest as he relived the memory.

It still hurt just as badly as the day it happened. And here he thought he’d buried that grief long ago. It had been there all along, just waiting to rear its ugly head.

“It’s gon’ be okay,” he whispered against the top of your head. “I’m right here, you’re safe, nothin’ is gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here.” 

You lifted your head to wail out, “I-I ruined it! I should have ne– never come!”

“No, darlin’. Y’ didn’t ruin anythin’,” he tried to reason.

“A-all of Zara’s hard work! It’s messed up because of me!” You were spiraling, filled with regret. This had been such a colossal mistake. 

At that moment, voices could be heard in the distance. Rhett lifted his head, listening. He could hear his name and yours being called. Thank god the rest of the team was alright.

“Found ‘em!” It was Danny’s voice, full of panic as he burst through the wall of cornstalks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, are you guys alright?!” He slid to a halt, lowering to his knees beside you both.

Behind him, Finn, Zara, and Jeslyn all appeared, looking just as disheveled and frightened. 

“Oh my god, what happened?!” Zara exclaimed. She eyed your trembling form, crying into Rhett’s shoulder, and her face softened.

Rhett caught her gaze. The two shared unspoken communication. She knew what he was trying to convey with just his face. You hadn’t been ready for this.

You managed to bring yourself to look into Zara’s face, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you guys.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” she said, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “No, I…I ruined everything, I’m so sorry.”

Finn and Danny stepped away to check on the equipment, while Zara and Jeslyn remained with you and Rhett. 

“No, honey. You didn’t ruin everything. Trust me, those tanks are fine,” Jeslyn assured you. Her eyes were kind, and her voice was gentle. 

Thunder boomed overhead again, and you jumped, pressing yourself even closer to Rhett. He held you just a little tighter. You were safe with him. He would make sure of that.

“Everything looks alright!” The sound of Finn’s voice carried over the field as he and Danny jogged back over. “The hitch snapped, but we can fix it. I figure Rhett can weld it back on since it’s his truck and all.”

“Yeah, it ain’t a big deal to fix,” Rhett replied. 

“Tanks are okay too, they even stayed in the trailer, nothing fell out.” Finn looked at you, making sure to catch your eye. “No harm, no foul.”

“It was a quick twister anyway, not even that big. We probably wouldn’t have been able to get the tanks open fast enough as it was, so it really isn’t a big deal that we didn’t get ‘em into position. Don’t beat yourself up,” came Zara’s words. 

Sniffling, you managed a nod. You were deeply grateful for everyone’s kindness and understanding. You still felt terrible, however. Part of you felt like a scared little child, and you hated it. You were angry at yourself for being unable to handle it. 

“So what’s the plan now? We gotta get those tanks back to Rhett’s place, plus it’s gonna downpour any minute, so we should probably work fast,” you heard Danny say. “There could end up being another twister in the area if the storm keeps at it.”

As the girls and guys put together a plan, you tried to calm yourself down. Rhett hadn’t let you go yet, choosing to remain on the ground with you curled safely against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Hey, look at me.”

You brought your eyes to his. The blue was so intense, it nearly took your breath away. 

“Don’t go sayin’ you’re sorry. You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I just kept thinking about that day, and I…I froze,” you whispered, throat tight with a knot of emotion. “I was so stupid to think I could do it.”

“At least you tried, alright? That’s what matters. Nobody expects you t’ just jump right back into it after all these years.”

“I know, I just–”

“No, don’t you start spiralin’ on me, y’hear? Stop beatin’ yourself up about it. Nobody got hurt, and that’s what we all care about at the end of the day. When it comes down to it, if I’ve gotta choose between makin’ sure you’re safe, or stoppin’ a twister, I’m gonna choose you every damn time.”

His words made your chest grow warm, and your bottom lip quivered. He hadn’t changed in all this time. He was just as caring as ever. 

When you threw your arms around his neck to hug him, he hugged you right back, rocking you from side to side before he finally released you. Cool drops of rain began to fall from the sky, interrupting your moment.

Quickly, Rhett stood, reaching for your hand to pull you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get to the truck.” With his hand still wrapped around yours, he pulled you along, and you ran back through the field to the place where he’d stopped the truck.

When you reached the old Sierra, the team was just finishing putting all the nitrogen tanks in the back of the truck. It appeared that Danny and Finn had managed to jury-rig the trailer so that Rhett could get it back home.

Hurriedly, Rhett guided you into the truck in an effort to shield you from the rain, slamming the door shut and stopping only for a moment to talk to the guys before they parted ways. He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, maneuvering through the field and back out onto the main road. 

The drive back home was silent, save for the sound of rain pounding against the roof of the truck. You stared out the window, still upset at the way you had reacted. 

“You don’t have to hold up your end of the deal now, since I couldn’t hold up mine,” you finally told Rhett, referring to the promise he’d made to ride in the rodeo that weekend.

But he shook his head. “Nah, you still did, even if ya didn’t hold out for the whole thing. If you had to face somethin’ that scares you, it’s only fair that I do it too. I’m gonna get on a bull this weekend, because that’s what I said I’d do.”

You let out a breath. “Well, I’ll be in the stands cheering you on then.”

“Jus’ like old times, huh?”

“Yeah…like old times.”

You were choosing not to dwell on the fact that during ‘old times’1, you’d felt his blood seep through your fingers as you fought to keep him alive after that bull had driven a horn into his stomach. That was a freak occurrence. It wouldn’t happen this time around.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Later that morning, you arrived back on the Abbott farm, feeling weary from the adrenaline crash, as well as the lack of sleep from the night before. Once Rhett stopped in the driveway, you stumbled out of the truck and onto the red dirt. 

The sky was gray, indicating that the storm was following you, and would surely dump buckets of rain on the property. It seemed to have calmed down, so it didn’t appear as if it would turn into anything serious. You knew your poor nerves could not handle another twister that day.

The team converged as you headed toward the porch, but you paused when you heard Danny speaking to Rhett. He was trying to keep his voice low so you wouldn’t hear, but you caught it anyway. “There’s more damage than we thought. Specifically to the wiring on the trailer. It’s gonna take longer to fix,” he explained.

You felt an aching pang in your chest. This was all your fault.

You didn’t stick around to hear what Rhett had to say. You simply trudged up the porch steps and into the house. You just wanted to be alone, but to your dismay, Cecilia was in the home office, which had a full view of the entryway you were currently in.

She saw the bleak look on your face, and she immediately rose from her seat at the desk. “Honey, what happened?”

Her concern was what broke you. Instantly, more tears welled up in your eyes, and your shoulders shook as a sob left your throat. Without hesitation, she came to your aid, wrapping her arms around you. “Hey now, you’re gonna be just fine.”

You didn’t believe that.

When Rhett stepped into the house, he took in the sight of his mother comforting you, and he spared her a saddened glance. She nodded in understanding, though no words were shared between the two of them. He headed into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, deciding it best to give you space.

A few minutes later, after you finally excused yourself to head upstairs and get some rest, Cecilia joined her son in the kitchen.

Rhett stood at the sink, idly stirring his coffee as he stared out into the water-washed scene unfolding outside the kitchen window. “She wasn’t ready, Mom,” he murmured.

“I can see that,” she replied. “What happened out there? Radio said a twister touched down.”

“It did. We were tryin’ to get in range so we could drop the tanks. But as soon as it touched down she started panicking. Like full-on hyperventilatin’. I had to swerve off the road and as soon as I stopped, she jumped out. Scared me to death. Thought the twister was gonna take her from me.”

Saying those words sent his heart quickening in his chest. He had to face the fact that he still cared so deeply for you, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing you.

“Glad you both made it outta there safely,” Cecilia murmured, moving to pour herself her second cup of coffee for the day. “Just give her time, Rhett.”

“I will,” he agreed. He downed the rest of the bitter liquid in his mug before he set the ceramic in the sink. “Gon’ go out and fix some of the stuff that got damaged in the twister. We won’t be goin’ out again for a bit, not ‘til we get everythin’ up and runnin’ again.”

He said this to give his mother peace of mind. He knew how much she worried whenever he went out on a chase. The fear of losing her boy was a very real one. 

Meanwhile, you were curled up in bed, curtains drawn, swathing the room in darkness. You hoped you would be able to get some sleep, but you were wide awake, mind racing a mile a minute. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity, you forced yourself to get up. Might as well busy yourself to get your mind off of things.

You decided to head to your great-aunt’s house to continue your cleaning project. As you ambled outside, you caught sight of Rhett, Danny, and Finn in the barn, working on getting the trailer repaired. Grimacing, you averted your eyes and instead climbed into your car.

For the next few days, you avoided Rhett, because you felt so terrible about the entire debacle. But there was never any judgment in his eyes when he looked upon you. He truly did not blame you for what had happened.

In the end, he was the one who came to you, unable to deal with your withdrawn demeanor. He approached you one morning as you were getting ready to leave.

“Hey, I, uh, was wonderin’...I know you’ve got a lot of stuff to haul outta your aunt’s house. Want some help? I can bring my truck.”

You began to protest. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “Y’ shouldn’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He looked so earnest, his eyes pleading, his mouth curved into a hopeful smile. How could you say no to him? “Okay, sure. Why not?”

He tried not to appear too eager, but it was written all over his face. “Alrighty, I’ll bring the truck ‘round!”

That was how you found yourself in the passenger seat of the Sierra again, happy that you were headed somewhere that didn’t involve a raging storm that could potentially kill you both. 

When you arrived at the house, you led Rhett up to the porch, where you stopped to retrieve the spare key from beneath the welcome mat. 

“Some things never change,” he murmured upon seeing you locate the key. “She always kept that key there, didn’t she?”

You smiled as you unlocked the door. “She did.”

As you stepped into the house, Rhett paused in the entryway to glance around. A lot had changed since you’d arrived. Many things were packed away in boxes. But it still held a nostalgic feel. 

“Remember when she’d let us crash here in between chases?” He asked.

How could you forget? “Do I ever. Those were the days.”

You remembered so vividly, curling up in sleeping bags around the living room floor, too excited to sleep, knowing a storm cell could be developing at any moment. Oh, to be young and naive again, endowed with a feeling of invincibility. 

“So…weather analyzin’. How’s that treatin’ ya?” Rhett continued in an effort to kill any awkward silence.

You shrugged as you set about organizing the kitchen, motioning for him to get involved. “Pretty well. I actually really like it.”

“Yeah? Must be a lot cushier than facin’ the storms head-on. At least you got a screen separatin’ you from all the destruction.”

“Yep. It’s a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“How’s livin’ in Silver Spring?”

“I can say we don’t get many twisters. Which I’m happy about.”

“Guess that’s a plus,” came his response.

You opened up the pantry, preparing to sort through all the food that remained there. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Rhett said as he grabbed the box of garbage bags you silently pointed to. 

You continued speaking as he placed the box in your hand.  “How’d you meet Zara and all them? They all went to OU together. You’re the odd man out.”

He smirked. “What, think a dumb hick like me can’t hang around educated folk?”

You rolled your eyes as you opened one of the garbage bags. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know,” he assured you. “Actually, Zara heard about us. She read the news stories about what happened. She got a hold of me a couple years ago and started askin’ questions. Wanted to see if I’d like to get involved with her project. So I said, why the hell not? She introduced me to her team and had me come to OU to see how their setup worked.”

“You got to see it in action?” You were intrigued.

“Yeah. Jeslyn’s pretty fuckin’ brilliant when it comes to building things. She and Danny and Finn are the ones that put together a machine that can simulate a twister. Zara used a tank of nitrogen to stop the twister. Obviously it ain’t the same as the real thing, but I thought it was pretty damn cool. Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I teamed up with ‘em, and we’ve been workin’ together ever since.”

“Have you guys been testing out the nitrogen stuff for very long?”

“It ain’t been field tested, if that’s what you mean. We’re tryin’ to see if it works on an actual twister first. After that, Zara wants to get a grant so she can start testin’ on a larger scale. Plus, Danny and Finn are workin’ on this new radar equipment, once it’s ready we’re gonna take it out on a chase with us. The idea is that it’ll help us track storm cells better, and hopefully let us know what we’re up against faster.”

“Huh, I didn’t know they were working on that,” you mused, intrigued. 

“Yeah, they’ve been puttin’ it together for months now. I think they don’t wanna jinx it, so they haven’t said anything. But Finn just told me the other day that it’ll probably be ready for the next chase we go on.”

“Wow. They’re all weather geniuses.” Knowing they were doing so much sent a pang of deep longing through your chest. 

Part of you wished you were doing more than sitting behind a screen at work, watching the weather ravage the country, unable to do anything more but issue warnings and hope for the best. If only you had the guts to actually get out there and take action against the phenomenon that had taken your friends from you.

“They sure are,” Rhett agreed. “Sometimes I feel pretty damn inadequate because I’m just a farm boy from Oklahoma. But they still wanna hang with the likes of me, for whatever reason.”

“Because you’re pretty great,” you heard yourself say. You hadn’t meant to speak it aloud.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled a crooked smile, the apples of his cheeks rounding. 

In an effort to change the subject, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did anyone talk to Beau about you riding this weekend? After what happened on Monday I, uh, was so frazzled that I forgot to track him down.”

“Zara talked to him. Said she wasn’t gonna let me get out of it so easy. So, I’m on track to ride after the rest of the contestants. Beau said it was gon’ be an honorary thing, ‘cause apparently it’s been ten years on the dot since I rode last.”

Ten years. Had it really been that long? So much had happened since then, it felt like both a lifetime and no time at all had passed. 

“Are you nervous?” You questioned.

He shrugged, suddenly finding an old box of crackers very interesting, avoiding your gaze. “Kinda.”

He was scared to death, you realized. You could see it in his eyes. But he was pushing himself to do this. At this point, it wasn’t just because he’d made a deal with you. It was because he wanted to prove to himself that he could do it. That he could face his fears and come out on the other side. Perhaps not unscathed, but a better person because of it.

“You’re gonna do great,” you assured him, offering a vote of confidence.

“Sure hope so.”

The rest of the morning carried on with quiet conversation as you worked to clear out the kitchen. A few hours later, you were feeling accomplished, and hungry. So Rhett offered to take you to the diner in town for lunch.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a booth across from him, a spread of food between you both. You reminisced about the past, talking about times before everything had fallen apart. Good memories that you could both share laughter over. 

You found yourself gazing at Rhett, at his easy smile and his sparkling eyes, illuminated by the early afternoon light shining through the windows, and you were transported back to a time when you were so in love with him. A time when you promised him you would be his forever. 

“You listenin’?” His voice, low and velvety, pulled you back to reality.

“I…I’m sorry, I was distracted,” you sheepishly replied.

He looked at you, brow pulling together, as if he knew you’d been admiring him. But he didn’t acknowledge it. “I was askin’ if you wanted to get outta here and head back to the farm.”

“Oh, um, sure. Yeah, let’s get back.”

With that, he opened his wallet and pulled out some cash for a tip before he stood to his feet. You followed suit, and once he’d paid for the meal, you made your way back out to the truck. Things were comfortable between the two of you again. The events that had happened earlier that week during the chase faded into the background, nothing more than a memory. 

You were glad you had agreed to let him come and help you. It had cleared the air and made way for your friendship to continue blossoming, slowly repairing after so much time apart. 

The rest of the week went by in a breeze. You kept busy with working in your aunt’s house, allowing Rhett to tag along when he had the chance to. When he wasn’t with you, he was working alongside his father on the farm, or he was repairing the trailer so it could be reattached to the hitch on his truck.

Strangely enough, the weather had calmed down, despite it being storm season. There had been some rain showers here and there, but no storms, and no twisters, either. You were glad, because you weren’t sure if your poor nerves could handle another storm that week.

You were glad for the lighthearted distraction of going to the rodeo. You hadn’t been to one in such a long time. You were looking forward to all the sights and sounds. Aside from Rhett’s near fatal injury, you had nothing but good memories of attending rodeos. 

You couldn’t help but catch on to the joy emanating from Amy at the prospect of watching her uncle ride a bull. She was over the moon about it. She had never seen him ride before, as she hadn’t even been born yet when he was still competing. All she knew about that time of his life was through the stories that he and her grandparents had told her.

“Hey! You wanna help me make a sign for uncle Rhett?” The girl asked you as you came downstairs that Saturday morning. 

You could see that she had all of her supplies ready, spread out across her grandmother’s office floor. An assortment of colored markers, glitter glue, paint, and poster board. You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness. 

“Sure! Let me get a cup of coffee and I’ll come help,” you told her.

Her eyes went wide with excitement and she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yay! Okay, I’ll be in here waiting for you!” She said, scurrying into the office.

Her childlike wonder warmed your heart. You were happy you’d agreed to stay at the Abbotts, if only for the whimsy Amy brought to the experience. Her personality was almost too big for her small body. It was clear that she was the greatest joy in both her grandparent's and Rhett’s lives. 

You were more than happy to help her make a sign for the rodeo. After you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you settled on the hardwood floor of the office, right beside Amy. She handed you different supplies and even allowed you to write the words she wanted to say on the poster board. 

“You write better than me, so I want you to do it. I want the words to be really big, so Uncle Rhett can see ‘em!” She explained. 

“Okay, what do you want me to write?”

“I was thinking ‘you got this Uncle Rhett!’”

“I like it!”

You settled into the carefree fun of making a glittery rodeo sign, enjoying Amy’s creative little touches here and there as she added stickers and designs. 

Halfway through, the screen door squealed open, and Amy jumped up in a panic when she realized it was Rhett. 

“What’re you gals up to?” He asked as he strolled into the house. 

“Don’t come in here!” Amy cried, rushing to push him away. “We’re workin’ on a top secret surprise!”

His brows shot up, and he stole a glance at you, currently holding the poster board at an angle so he couldn’t see what it said. “Oh yeah? You in cahoots with my niece now?” He asked you, smile playing on his lips. 

“Maybe,” came your playful response. “Don’t go spoiling your surprise now. We’ll let you see it later.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’,” he said as he held his hands up in surrender. 

You kept the sign hidden until you knew for certain he’d gone upstairs. Amy bounded back over to you, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow as she exclaimed, “Whew! That was close.”

“Let’s hurry and finish it so we can hide it until later,” you suggested, voice hushed and playfully urgent. 

The girl agreed, and you both set to work, hurriedly finishing up the sign. Once you were done, you put it in an inconspicuous place, hidden away from Rhett’s prying eyes. As you helped Amy put all her art supplies away, you were struck with a warm feeling, blossoming through your chest. Here you were, making signs to cheer Rhett on, anticipating his ride later that night, just like you used to not too long ago.

You were always his biggest fan at the rodeo, that was for certain. You’d made many a sign in your day, with his name scrawled across the poster board, decorated with curlicues and glitter. You never thought it was something you’d be doing again. Oh, how things had changed. In the short time that you’d been here, your fondness for Rhett had returned. You supposed it had never left, to begin with. It had just been lying dormant for six years.

You should have known the blue-eyed cowboy would win you over again. You never could resist him.

Later on that day, as evening time approached, the excitement was palpable. Amy was bubbling with it, and it was rubbing off on everyone else. Zara, Jeslyn, Finn, and Danny arrived at the house to wish Rhett good luck before his ride. 

Cecilia was fretting, making sure Royal and Amy were ready, never one to be late to anything. Royal was amused at her behavior, and you caught him smiling fondly at her, a glimmer in his eyes. He, too, was eager to see his son ride, he just had a much different way of showing it.

He never could fully accept that Rhett had walked away from riding. In fact, there had been a time when he was even disappointed in the boy for doing so.

Royal himself had once been on top of his game as a bull rider, when he was but a young man. He had suffered many injuries during his time in the riding circuit, but he’d always gotten back on the bull. He had chastised Rhett for quitting, and although he never said it, part of him felt that his son was too soft. He needed to toughen up and get back in the ring.

It had been a point of contention between father and son, but they had since moved past it. However, now that Rhett was getting on the back of a bull again, Royal was very pleased. He might even go as far as to admit that he was proud. 

Rhett, on the other hand, was riddled with anxiety. He remembered so clearly the way he used to feel before a ride. It was as if electricity was thrumming through his veins, driving his every movement. It was deliciously exhilarating. But now, all he felt was fear. 

He kept replaying the night of his injury. It was just a freak incident. It wouldn’t happen again. But there was still the question of “what if?” in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the pain he felt when it happened. He’d been too hyped up on adrenaline. It was almost an out-of-body experience. As if he wasn’t the one being gored by a bull. That was someone else. Another unlucky rider.

Even as he stumbled backward, his body colliding with the sand beneath him, it wasn’t real. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination. Until he was being dragged to safety and you were above him, voice filled with terror as you begged him to stay with you. That was when reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and the pain began to radiate throughout his entire body.

But that was then. This was now. Things were different. He’d long since healed from his injury, though its scar remained, a constant reminder of what he had endured. But after losing his brother and sister-in-law, along with one of his dearest friends, he had learned that oftentimes, the pain of grief was far worse than any sort of physical pain. 

If he had been able to survive the agony of loss, then he could survive a brief ride on an angry bull.

Having the people he loved most there to cheer him on made it a little easier to stomach the thought of riding. But most of all, having you there was the most wonderful part.

“You’re gonna do great. We’ll all be cheering you on the whole time,” you assured him, voice soft, as you shared a moment alone. 

He mustered a smile, humming lowly. “Y’really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.”

Your vote of confidence meant the world to him. It was his driving force as he climbed into his truck and headed to the rodeo grounds. He was going to be just fine.

Later that night, you were all arriving at the rodeo, spirits high as you all climbed out of your respective vehicles. You’d ridden with Royal, Cecilia, and Amy in the beat up old Ranger that had been in the family for years.

As soon as you climbed out of the truck, Amy was pulling you along, talking a mile a minute. “C’mon! We have to get some kettle corn before it starts!” She urged. She waved the rest of the group along.

You all found yourselves in line for the aforementioned kettle corn. The different food smells transported you to rodeos past, and the pressing weight of nostalgia took your breath away. 

“How you doing?” Came the voice of Zara, who stood behind you in line.

You turned, offering her a smile. “I’m okay! Kinda nervous for Rhett, but I know he’ll do great.”

She nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah, he’ll be just fine. I’ve never seen him ride before, so I can’t wait! He tells us all stories sometimes about his riding days. It’ll be cool to finally see him in action.”

“He was awesome,” you told her, “really, he had such a knack for it. I’m glad he’s getting back out there, even if it’s only for one night.”

“Yeah. It’s brave of him, I think. Facing his fears and all that.”

“It is.” Or maybe it was foolish. Either way, it was happening, and you were going to support him if it was the last thing you did.

Once everyone had their own respective snacks, you all followed Royal and Cecilia up to the stands. The voices of those around you overlapped. Fragments of conversations. Old friends catching up. Church ladies gossiping. Young girls giggling over the cute cowboys who would be riding that night. 

You took your seat, eyes flickering across the ring, searching for any sign of Rhett behind the gates. Your belly was fluttering with butterflies. Your heart was racing. Your palms were sweaty. When it came time to stand for the National Anthem, you could hardly sing along, voice coming out shaky and breathless. 

The late spring air was cool against your heated skin, but you hardly noticed it, hand swiping at your forehead where perspiration had begun to form. As you sat back down after the anthem, you felt Cecilia’s hand on your arm.

She shot you a reassuring smile, but you could see the wariness in her eyes. She was worried, too. “He’ll be fine,” she said, more so to convince herself.

You nodded. “Yeah, he will be.”

Then the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Good evenin’, Amelia County! We’ve got a fantastic lineup for y’all tonight!” He began listing the names of the boys who would be riding in the circuit. “We’re changin’ things up a little with an honorary ride. Want you to give a warm welcome to Rhett Abbott, Wabang native, who used to ride regularly in our rodeos! He’ll be closin’ out the circuit for us tonight with a final ride. So sit back, relax, and get ready to cheer on our riders! Let the fun begin!”

His choice of words was amusing. Watching bull riding was the least relaxing thing out there.

“We have to wait for everyone to go before we can even see him ride?” Amy complained.

You were inclined to agree with her dismay. Your anxiety was only going to increase as time passed. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on any other riders because you would be too busy thinking about him.

With each contestant that was called up, your anticipation mounted. You tuned out the rest of the crowd. All the voices, all the sounds, the reverberation of the loudspeakers. None of it mattered. 

You used to be behind those gates, when you were working in the first aid tent. You’d witnessed Rhett’s pre-ride jitters more times than you could count. He would often seek you out for comfort. He loved when you’d come up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his back. It would always ground him. 

He didn’t have that now. He was behind those gates by himself. Part of you wished you were back there with him, but you quickly pushed that thought aside. He was a grown man, he could handle it alone. 

You instead tried your best to focus on each rider, attempting to enjoy the rodeo. 

Subconsciously, you were counting down the minutes until Rhett’s ride. 

Much to your relief, it all went by quickly, and before you even realized it, it was time for him to come out. Beside you, Amy jumped to her feet and held up her sign, hoping to get his attention as he climbed into the chute. You leaned forward in your seat, and at that very moment, he lifted his head, and locked eyes with you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over your heart. He nodded, and then bowed his head. Sitting atop a creature teeming with virile energy sent his pulse pounding in his ears.

He was surrounded by handlers, all making sure he was securely in place. Some of these guys he’d known his entire life. A few had even worked alongside him when he was still riding regularly. 

“Y’ready, son?” One of them asked. Jason McGowan.

Rhett let out a breath, shifting his gaze straight ahead. His gloved hand was wrapped securely in the rope beneath him, keeping him in place. The animal he was seated upon shifted, snorting loudly, growing antsy and impatient.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rhett murmured. His chest felt tight. His thighs were trembling. Was he even strong enough to hold on for this? Could he really do it?

He counted down in his head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Then he nodded, and in a split second, the chute burst open, and he was lurching forward as the bull jumped out into the ring. The beast writhed and roared beneath him, bucking furiously, tossing him about like a rag doll.

In the stands, you shot to your feet, holding your breath as you stared at Rhett. Come on, come on, come on. He held on for dear life, free arm in the air. The clock was ticking, but you never dared to glance at it. You would not take your eyes off of him. 

Cecilia grabbed your arm again. You held tightly to her, both of you watching your boy, silently praying for him to succeed.

Just a little longer. You can do it. 

And then he let go. His body sailed through the air, and he hit the dirt, but he kept running, stumbling away from the raging animal as a pair of rodeo clowns directed the bull’s attention elsewhere. 

Rhett straightened, shoulders squared as his eyes flickered up to the large screen to see his time. His name soared to the top of the scoreboard. 

He had the best time of the night.

Around him, the crowd went wild. But he didn’t care about any of them. Frantically, he searched for you, electric blue filled with pride and shock all at once. He finally saw you, cheering for him at the top of your lungs, screaming his name from the stands. He swore he could hear you. Over everyone, there was your voice, praising him, calling for him.

His cheeks were wet, and he realized there were tears pouring down his face.

But he was grinning, teeth flashing white, beaming in the golden light cast upon him. 

I did it. I fuckin’ did it.

He wasn’t sure when his legs started moving, but before he knew it, he was running, boots kicking up sand as he threw himself over the barricade separating the stands from the ring. He took the steps two at a time, making a beeline for you.

Your beautiful face was full of adoration, and the moment you saw him coming at you, you pushed your way through the crowd, nearly tripping over your own feet as you rushed to meet him. You heard whistles and cheers around you, friends and strangers alike urging you both on.

As soon as you reached each other, he was throwing his arms around your waist, crushing you to him. You laughed musically, despite the tears that were running from your eyes. You held him tightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“I did it,” he whispered in your ear. Then he laughed. “I did it, honeybee!”

You pulled back to gaze into his beautiful face. Honeybee. Oh, how you’d missed that nickname. “You did, Rhett,” you echoed. “I’m so proud of you.”

He lingered, shining eyes locked with your own. The surrounding activity faded into the background, and it felt as if you were the only two people in the entire world. You were suddenly very aware of the warmth of his body against yours. The feeling of his chest heaving in time with his breaths. The beating of his heart. If only for a moment, you were transported back to a time when you were so in love. 

It hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Oh my god, I’m still in love with him. 

You let go of him as if you’d been stung, and before he could react, he was flooded with congratulatory hugs and pats on the back. You faded into the background and watched him receive showers of attention. But you were reeling, trying to process the emotions swirling through you, much like the tornadoes you used to chase. 

What were you going to do with this knowledge? You supposed it had always been there. From the moment you saw him when you returned to Wabang, the feelings that had been dormant for six years were brought back to the surface. 

You were supposed to have moved on. But the truth was, you never had. 

You couldn’t do anything about it. It felt like the worst possible time to realize you loved him. You had a job and a life back in Maryland. You couldn’t make a relationship work with him, even if you wanted to. 

It was no surprise that you found yourself in the parking lot, wanting to be away from the crowd. Wanting space. If you’d driven yourself to the rodeo, you would already be leaving. But you were dependent on other people to get you back to the Abbott's. And you certainly weren’t about to walk back by yourself. 

Instead, you found yourself leaning against Royal’s truck, your mind moving a million miles a minute. Why couldn’t you just move on? You’d had plenty of time to do so. What was it about Rhett that rendered you unable to let him go? 

He was your first love. Your only love. You had tried dating other people, but nothing had worked out. You always chalked it up to you having high standards, but you realized that perhaps all this time, it had never worked with other people because you were still in love with Rhett. 

What a predicament to be in. 

You were still reeling slightly by the time the rodeo was over. It wasn’t long until you heard the sound of familiar voices. Amy’s voice rang out over the parking lot as she praised her uncle. 

“You were so awesome! I knew you would be! You looked so cool on top of that bull!” She rambled on. 

Rhett was grinning, face flushed, as he tugged Amy into his side for a hug. “Thank y’, Ames,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

“The kid’s right, you knocked it outta the park, man,” you heard Danny say as he clapped Rhett on the back. Everyone else chimed in with their own two cents. 

You pushed yourself off of the truck and came into the light, integrating yourself back into the group. You wondered if any of them had noticed your absence.

“I think we should go out for ice cream to celebrate,” Finn suggested, at which Amy turned to her grandmother with wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Gramma, can we?!” She begged, folding her hands beneath her chin.

Cecilia relented, a smile on her face as she leaned over and patted Rhett’s back. “Since it’s not a school night, why not?”

As Amy clapped in excitement, Rhett lifted his head, and he caught you looking at him. You held his gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his attention was pulled away again by the sudden weight of Royal’s hand on his back.

A wordless “I’m proud of you, son.”

Rhett didn’t get to speak to you until after you’d all settled in at Marigold’s Ice Cream Parlor. After everyone had ordered their respective ice creams and milkshakes, and you stood nearby with two scoops of chocolate in a small cup, he approached you.

He had a cone of rocky road, his all-time favorite ice cream flavor. “Hey there,” he murmured, speaking lowly. He’d taken his hat off and left it in the truck, and he now sported a head of hat hair. 

“Hi,” you answered. You suddenly felt like a pair of shy teenagers.

“Are y’alright?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but that was how it came out.

Rhett shrugged, licking at his ice cream. “I dunno, you ran off after my ride. You looked kinda panicked. Just thought I’d check on ya and make sure you were alright.”

Should you tell him? Would it be foolish to do so? “Well, I…”

“Hey Rhett, c’mere!” Jeslyn’s voice suddenly sounded across the parlor, cutting you off, and he glanced over. She was waving at him, encouraging him to hurry.

“One sec!” He responded before he turned back to you, expectant.

“Sorry…sorry, yeah, I’m totally fine. The crowd was just a lot.”

You could tell he didn’t quite believe you. “Okay. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure.” He offered an endearing smile, and your heart clenched in your chest. “Anyway, you wan’ come join us?”

You nodded and followed him to the table where everyone was seated. You found yourself sitting between him and Danny, and if only for a little while, you pushed aside all the stressors and uncertainties and allowed yourself to melt into the lighthearted atmosphere created around that table in the little family-owned ice cream parlor.

You found yourself laughing along with Rhett’s family and friends, listening to stories and anecdotes, sitting through Amy’s dramatic retelling of an anime she’d watched. You realized that you felt like you belonged here. As if this was where you were always meant to be. Your story was supposed to intersect with the stories of those around you.

Your life was always supposed to intersect with Rhett’s.

No matter where you went, or how far you ran, he would always be part of you. He was ingrained in your bones. In the very cell makeup of your being. The red string of fate tied you together for all eternity. 

It was time you accepted that, and stopped trying to escape it.

So you chose not to fight it anymore. You let yourself care about him. Let yourself love him. And perhaps somewhere along the way, you would find it in yourself to tell him how you felt.

For now, you relished in the peace you felt with these people. And as you followed Royal, Cecilia, and Amy back out to the truck after your ice cream was long finished, you felt at ease for the first time in…well, as long as you could remember. 

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

That night, you found yourself in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of herbal tea to help relax your body, which was tense and sore from the events of the last several days. As you idly dipped the chamomile sachet in the mug full of hot water, you were alerted to the sound of the front door opening.

You turned to find Rhett stepping into the house. He’d come home around the same time you had, but he’d remained outside for a while, tinkering in the barn with the nitrogen trailer. It was completely repaired, and he was eager to get it back on the road for another chase soon.

As he toed his boots off quietly, he was made aware of your presence, and he offered you a sleepy smile. “Hey. Didn’t know anyone was still awake,” he murmured, socked feet padding against the floor as he walked into the kitchen.

“I couldn’t really sleep,” you replied, “figured I’d make some tea. Want some?”

He shook his head as he opened the fridge, leaning down to glance at its contents. “Naw. Ain’t a tea guy, remember?”

You couldn’t help but smile. Of course you remembered. The only tea he liked was sweet iced tea. Instead, he pulled a jug of milk from the fridge and poured himself a glass. You longed to occupy the silence, so you spoke.

“You were great tonight.”

He took a swig of milk and then gazed into his glass, swirling it in his hand. Then he looked at you, bashful smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“Think you’ll do it again?”

At that, he scoffed. “Hell no. I loved it, I gotta admit. But my arms and legs are so fuckin’ sore right now. I’m too old for it. My days of bull wranglin’ are over, that’s for damn sure.” He downed the rest of his milk before he set the glass in the sink. While he gazed out the window into the night, he continued. “Storm chasin’ is my calling now.”

You hummed softly, eyes falling to a random spot on the floor. You toed it with your slipper-clad foot. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He turned to face you. “It wasn’t. But I’m glad I did it. Showed me I can face m’ fears and still come out stronger on the other side.”

“Yeah,” you quietly agreed. His words struck something in you. A strange ache in your chest. A yearning for something. 

He pushed away from the sink, how forehead crinkling as he raised his brows. “Welp, I’m gon’ jump in the shower and head to bed. See ya in the mornin’, girl.”

Before he could leave, you called out to him. “Rhett?”

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, the orange glow of the counter lamp casting shadows over his handsome face. “Yeah?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you considered what you were about to say. “At the rodeo, after your ride, you, um, you called me honeybee.”

He hesitated, his body language stiffening slightly. “Oh, I did?” He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Didn’t realize it.”

If the light had been brighter, you might’ve seen the tips of his ears turn pink. 

“What I’m trying to say is, I…I liked it.”

His sheepishness gave way into a small, crooked smile. “In that case, I meant t’say it then.” 

You couldn’t hide your own smile. “Reminds me of…” You trailed off. 

“Before. I know,” he agreed. 

You took a step forward. The words were on the tip of your tongue. The realization you’d come to when he held you in his arms after his ride. You could confess it to him. Tell him everything. 

“Uncle Rhett?” Suddenly, the small, tired voice of Amy cut through the tension in the air. 

The spell was broken. Rhett turned, seeking out the source of the voice. “What’s wrong, Ames?” He asked, moving to her aid. 

“I just need a glass of water.”

He stepped toward the staircase and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some water.”

He guided the girl into the kitchen, and you took that as your opportunity to sneak out while he tended to her. When he turned to look for you, you were gone. 

With your tea in hand, you crept up the stairs, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid as you went. When you made it to Rhett’s room, you set the cup down on the dresser and hurried to shut the door behind you. 

Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes. You had almost admitted everything to him right there in the middle of his kitchen. Part of you was glad for Amy’s interruption, while the other part was upset.

You knew your feelings would come out into the open sooner or later. 

But you also had some other things to consider now. More than just rekindling feelings for your first love. 

What Rhett said had struck you. Face your fears and come out stronger on the other side. 

You still had a deal to carry out, after all. If he could face years of trauma and fear and live to tell the tale, so could you.

You made your decision. You knew exactly what you needed to do. It was time to stop running from the danger, and instead, run toward it.

The next morning, you woke to the sun streaming in through the window. It was Sunday morning, which meant Cecilia would be rushing about, getting ready for church. You allowed yourself a few moments in bed, staring up at the ceiling, before you finally swung your legs over the edge and stretched.

You quickly readied yourself for the day, throwing on some clean clothes before you padded across the hall to brush your teeth. You could hear activity happening downstairs, and the smell of breakfast cooking reached your nose. 

Eager to join everyone, you finished your routine and then scurried down the squeaky old steps. In the kitchen, you found Rhett, Royal, and Amy all around the table as Cecilia flitted about the kitchen, finishing breakfast preparations.

Rhett saw you first, and his face broke into a smile, eyes glimmering in the golden sunlight that streamed in through the window over the sink. “G’mornin’,” he greeted.

Amy’s head popped up, and she grinned at the sight of you. “Oh, good! You’re up!” She exclaimed, rushing over to take your hand and usher you to the table. You giggled at her eagerness, and you didn’t miss the fact that she guided you to sit in the open chair next to Rhett.

“Mornin’, hon,” Cecilia called out as she stepped over to the table with a skillet full of bacon. “Get yourself a plate and have some breakfast! Was rushin’ this mornin’ so I forgot to set one out for you, I’m sorry.”

“I got it,” Rhett volunteered before you could even stand. He rose from his seat and retrieved a plate from the dishware cabinet.

“Thank you,” you told him, taking the plate from his outstretched hand and nodding to show your gratitude. His eyes lingered on your own before he took his seat beside you again.

“Are you guys in love?” Amy blurted from across the table. 

Rhett nearly choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Cecilia made a chastising sound, tapping her granddaughter’s shoulder in disapproval at the question. But you could see that even she was barely hiding a smile. Luckily for Royal, who was beside you, he could hide his own smile behind his coffee mug.

“What makes you ask that?” Was what you finally settled on as your reply, trying to sound nonchalant. You grabbed a biscuit from the bowl in the middle of the table, busying yourself with pulling the bread apart to be buttered.

“Gramma says you are.”

“Amy.”

“What?! You did say that.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should repeat it,” Cecilia scolded.

The girl huffed, shaking her head as she poked her fork at her scrambled eggs. “I just wanted to know.”

“Leave ‘em be, Amy,” Royal said, despite the amusement still on his features. He glanced at you. Even he knew the answer to the question Amy had asked. Thankfully, he’d saved you or Rhett the embarrassment of answering. You knew what you would have said, but were you ready to admit it out loud? Was Rhett?

Aside from the slightly awkward question from Amy, breakfast carried on without a hitch, but you were distracted, so many things heavy on your mind. Everything was about to change, you could feel it. Building in the distance, like an impending storm.

You volunteered to do the dishes to allow the rest of the family, sans Rhett, to get to church on time. Cecilia expressed her gratitude as she rushed Amy out the door, and soon, you were all alone in the house with Rhett.

“Y’alright? Got kinda quiet at breakfast,” he murmured as he helped you clear the table. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

You stood there together at the kitchen sink, staring into each other’s faces.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

He leaned in closer. “Because if Amy’s question bothered you…”

He was so close you could smell his cologne. The proximity took your breath away. “Oh, um, it…it didn’t.”

“Good.” Did his gaze just flicker to your lips?

“Yeah. Good.”

He’d definitely looked at your lips. You caught him that time. A look of longing swirled in the deep blue, and you suddenly felt as if you were drowning, swallowed up in an ocean. Your chest went tight. You could barely breathe, and yet, you’d never felt more alive. 

“What would you ‘ve told her, if you answered her question?” He inquired.

I would tell her that I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I never will. 

“I…” 

You lost your train of thought, dizzy at his proximity, at his smell, at the sound of his hitched breaths. It was as if an invisible force was between you, pulling you toward each other. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. 

He was going to kiss you, and you were going to let him.

And then, as if the universe was playing a terribly cruel joke on you both, the sound of pounding on the door made you both jump apart as if you’d been struck by lightning. Your hand flew to your chest, pressed over your racing heart as a shock of fright sizzled through you.

“Jesus,” Rhett grumbled under his breath as he whirled around, crossing the floor in a few big strides before he threw open the front door, only to reveal Danny on the other side of the door.

“Didn’t you get my text?!” Danny asked, chest heaving. 

“What? No! I ain’t even looked at my phone since this mornin’!” Rhett answered, breathless.

“Nasty storm’s rolling in! Up in Coal County!”

“Shit, gimme one sec, I’ll meet you guys outside!” He turned on his heel and rushed to grab his phone from the living room, where it was charging. Then he retrieved his hat from the peg near the door.

You watched him scramble, preparing to meet another storm head-on, and you knew, it was now or never. Before you even registered what you were doing, your feet were carrying you forward, out of the kitchen, right to the door.

“Rhett,” you heard yourself call out his name.

He stopped in the doorway, turning to look at you, one foot on the floor, the other on the porch. “Yeah?”

You squared your shoulders and spoke more confidently than you ever had in your life. “I’m coming with you.”

A silent understanding passed between you both. He nodded his head, and simply replied, “Let’s go.”

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[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 9

Summary: The group makes their way down the highway when they have to come to the stop due to unforeseen obstacles. When they face the herd of walkers, everyone is lucky to get by nearly unscathed. But when you hear screams from coming up the highway, you know something went wrong. Sophia is deep in the woods, lost all on her own and you go to try and find her with the others.

Warnings: some drug use, Shane is an ass (what's new)

The road to Fort Benning is long. With the roaring of the bike under you, you’re almost lulled into sleep, holding onto Daryl’s shirt. Every once in a while you lay your head on his shoulder, the wind whipping your hair around. Your thoughts and maybe even dreams, you can’t tell at this point if you’re sleeping or awake, meander through distant memories of you & Daryl through the years, how things changed so rapidly when you had met Shane Walsh. It felt like your whole friendship unraveled so easily for such stupid reasons. You always had Daryl’s back, and it hurt when he stopped having yours. It was obvious he didn’t approve of your–you can’t even call him a boyfriend, according to Shane’s harsh words– relationship with Shane, but the way he turned so cold so quickly to you was brutal. You didn’t know how to handle it back then. The back and forth between fights that pierced new holes in each other’s hearts and back to apologizing and cleaning each other’s wounds was torment. Maybe it was because you both had no one else to turn to. Through thick and thin, you always had each other. You just thought that meant Daryl would be in your corner through the changes in your life. But so many things piled on top of each other that when you had left for school, you had felt him slipping out of your grasp. He started hanging with Merle more, from what you had heard. You barely saw him after you left. And when you did, he usually avoided you or said one or two words. When you were little, and things felt easier, he was the best thing that ever happened to you. Catching frogs in the woods, him showing you how to make a snare with nothing but the brush around you and your shoelace, to kicking Merle in the shins the first time you met his big brother–they all bring smiles to your face now. 

“You droolin’ on me back there?” Daryl twists his head for a moment to shout at you over the loud motorcycle. You swat him across the arm playfully before you can feel him chuckle to himself and turn his head back to the road. 

You’re behind the RV at this point, and the two lane highway seems to stretch on forever. God, you have to pee so badly. Just as the thought crosses your mind, you see the red lights of the RV’s brake lights start flashing as Dale comes to a halt. A small panic rises in your throat, not sure if you’re about to be trapped here or not. Daryl makes his way through the turned over cars to get in front of the RV to see if there’s a way around whatever has gotten in the way. 

Cars were littering the highway–some with bodies, some with belongings still inside and around. The main problem is the tractor trailer turned topside in the middle of everything. It stretches across both highways.  Daryl led the bike easily through the wreckage around you, and swerved back to tell Dale.

“See a way through?” Dale calls from the RV window.

Daryl shrugs and nods at him, waving him to follow behind. 

“There has to be a bypass if we go back,” you say, able to talk quieter now that the bike is going slower.

“Doubt they can spare the fuel,” Daryl says over his shoulder. A shiver runs up your spine as you get a closer look at the graveyard around you. There’s cars full of families out here. People who had no chance of making it before they could try to escape. You can’t help but think this must’ve happened when everything first went down. You remember how bad the roads were when you were trying to get out of the city.

The cars behind you all creep along the highway following the motorcycle. Your heart leaps out of your chest when suddenly from behind there’s a loud blaring from the RV. When you turn to look, loud steam is coming out of the hood, sputtering dramatically. 

Daryl stops his bike right away, turning hard to get a good look at the ruckus.

“Ah, shit,” he says under his breath, turning off the engine of his motorcycle. 

You hop off, silently grateful for the chance to stretch your legs, but still the worry of being stranded out here creeps in.

Dale complains how he knew from the jump this would happen with the radiator hose he had in the beat up old camper. But his grievances go quiet when he takes a look around at where you’re all standing. You see Daryl already starting to pull things from the cars left out in the beating sunlight. 

“Okay, that was dumb,” Dale admits.

 You chuckle, and Shane pipes up: “If you can’t find a radiator hose here…”

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find,” Daryl says beside you, reaching into another vehicle. 

Lori suddenly speaks up, “this is a graveyard…I don’t know how I feel about this,” you had the same thoughts until you remembered how scarce resources had become, and you look to her and then over at Daryl. You both shrug at each other in synchronization, making you smile and keep digging through the cars. You pull out a lunch pail and open it, a child’s lunch all rotten inside. Your stomach flips, not at the thought of rotten food, but the little girl that this belonged to. Her pink princess lunch box was one of the only things left in the trunk, along with some clothing strewn around.

Daryl leaves you to go help T-Dog siphon more gas while you continue your search. When you feel like the coast is clear, you make your way off the highway. Daryl, always with an eagle eye, catches you walking off, “What’re you doin?” he calls over.

“I’ve had to pee for the past like, 15 miles!” you call back to him, waving him off. You swing your leg over the guardrail, down into the woods. 

Hand on your knife to double check you have it with you, you pull your pants down in a bush to relieve yourself. The beautiful relief you feel makes you sigh in contentment. You hear Shane and Glenn shouting about something over on the road, and you smile, realizing they sound excited about something. You hope it’s food or some water. 

You start to get up, pulling your pants up with you, when you see it… when you see them.

One by one, then by groups, you see the gigantic crowd of walkers making their way down the highway, weaving around cars. You can tell they haven’t spotted anyone yet, but that doesn’t mean they won't the second one of them decides to look up. There must be at least 100 of them. Why the hell is a group of them walking together like that?

Heart suddenly racing inside your chest, your eyes scan the highway. Rick is running between cars, rifle in hand, getting Lori, Carol and the kids under vehicles. Shane finally sees the walkers coming too and you watch him grab the back of Glenn’s shirt, pulling them both under the truck they had searched. Where was Daryl? T-Dog? Andrea? You’re jumping over the guardrail now, a cold sweat drenching your body. You start to hear the ragged wheezing of the walkers drawing closer, but it doesn’t sound like they’ve found anyone yet. Why is it in these moments you’re hardly fearing for your own life? The fear covering you in sweat, the feeling that is making your blood pulse loudly in your ears, isn't the fear of your own safety. There’s one face in your mind, and you hopelessly look around, trying to find him. You turn to see how close the walkers are getting when you see one dressed in rags traipsing toward you. It looked to be an older man before its body turned into a monster. It took a left turn where the others took a right behind a semi truck. You look down under the truck and see Shane’s eyes bulging out at you, watching you stand right in the eyeline of the walker. It begins to hiss, finally noticing you as it rounds the front of a small sedan. 

Fuck. 

But instead of running away, the adrenaline coursing through your body gives you courage to walk straight up to it, knife in hand. As quickly as you can, you throw your knife between its eyes, but your knife gets stuck in the thick bone of its skull. You’re doing your best to heave it out of its head when the sound of the other walkers approaching gives you pause. You give up trying to pull it out when you notice more walkers starting to take the left turn around the truck, and bolt out of their eye line. You’re coming to a pile of bodies, looking around, unsure where to turn to duck out of sight, when suddenly you feel a hand around your ankle. Your body blazes in panic, and it takes every fiber of your being not to let out a blood curdling scream. You look down, and there’s a lifeless corpse laying on the ground across a body–no, not a body. Daryl. He’s looking up at you with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes. His car greased arm is reaching out from under the body atop him to wrap his hand around your leg.

“Get. Down.” he hisses at you. You look next to him and see T-Dog under another long-dead corpse, blood all over the right side of his body. Your body feels frozen suddenly as you look in horror at the slice up his arm. But the grip on your ankle gets harder, enough where you feel your foot going prickly at the lack of circulation.

“Y/N!” Daryl says in a frantic whisper, and you’re jolted out of your trance. You leap to the ground, rolling under a vehicle next to them. You have to hold your own hand over your mouth to quiet your own breathing as lazy footsteps and the sound of rattling breaths walk by you. You can’t help but think you hadn’t gotten down right in that moment, you’d be easy walker bait. 

After a long few moments, your breath comes back to you in steady rhythm, and the rattling sound of walkers breathing is gone and soon their slow footsteps completely recede away. You still can’t trust–don’t know for sure if they’re completely gone. None of you take the chance just yet to get up. You look over at T-Dog, his face ashen with blood loss. Daryl is looking up and around, checking to see if the coast is clear. You let your hand fall away from your mouth, looking up at the underside of the car you’re beneath, and let out a sigh of relief.

And then you hear the scream.

You know better than to get up to see what’s going on, you can’t move yet. The group of walkers could be close by, they could’ve even heard the screams. Daryl immediately gets up, hoisting T-Dog by the shirt up on his feet. He turns to face you, putting his hand out in offering. You roll from under the car and take his hand that’s covered in blood and car grease. Your hand slides a little from the lack of friction, but he just holds your wrist tighter, pulling you up. 

“Don’t even tell me what you were doin’--runnin’ around like a fool when a whole herd of walkers was on us,” Daryl seethes. You don’t want to have this argument again, so you release his hand once you’re up on your feet, and turn toward the sound of the group talking in low voices of panic. All three of you rush over when you see Lori holding Carol close. As you approach, Carol has tears down her face.

“There’s walkers after my baby!” she cries, Lori clinging to her to keep Carol from going into the woods after her own daughter.

After a while of bated breaths, Rick emerges from the woods alone, with no Sophia in sight. Carol begins to panic, but it seems the men are immediately ready to step into action. 

Daryl, Glenn, Shane, and Rick devise a plan to go search for her. Three of them are already heading into the woods with haste, when Shane looks back at you with his brows furrowed.

“What’re you doin?” he says, noticing you close behind him.

“I’m comin’” you say simply.

“No,” Shane says, as if that’s the end of the conversation. 

“I can help find her,” you say, anger lacing your tone.

“Stay here, keep everyone preoccupied. Keep looking for supplies,” he tells you, pointing to the others. You roll your eyes, still following him.

“I’m serious, Y/N, don’t you dare follow me into these woods,” he says with his lip curling. He turns and runs in after the others.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re standing by the guard rail while the others have turned around to get busy. Carol is next to you, anxiously searching the brush for any signs of their return. You’ve had enough of this–you grab the rifle from the sedan Rick and Lori drove in with Carol, and head into the woods. 

The woods aside the highway are thick as you make your way through them. Branches often snag at your hair and clothes, roots threatening to trip everywhere you step. You and Daryl explored the woods by your home outside Atlanta enough times to know better than to trust your footing too casually. You take careful, quiet steps, looking for any sign of the men who went out to look for Sophia.

Under your footing, a twig snaps and you pause, wincing inwardly. Daryl’s voice echoes in your head– “your fat feet” are going to give you away out here. You bring your rifle up into your arms in front of you, just in case any unwanted guests make an appearance. You keep your finger off the trigger, weary of accidentally pulling it at the smallest noise. Most likely Daryl had headed to the creek where Rick first found her, so you make your way closer and closer to the streaming water of the creek up ahead. You begin to ease your grip on the rifle, lowering it when animals start to make appearances–the squirrels are rifling through the tree and birds are singing. They would be too quiet if there was danger. You come across the creek and notice the mud has been moved around near a dam under a large tree. Someone was definitely here. Multiple people now that you get a better look at the foot prints. You see a set of small, child-like prints in the mud. Sophia. 

You begin to follow them, making out the small indents of where she gingerly stepped across roots, tripped on others, and paused like she was trying to decide where she was headed. 

“Come on, girl,” you whisper to yourself, “where did you go? Show me,” you’re concentrating on the fallen leaves under your footing, not realizing the sound of the birds had disappeared. You crouch on the ground, running your fingertips over the faint lines of a child’s shoe print. When you get up to continue following the trail, something zooms through the air and snaps into the tree behind you, missing you by an inch.

“Son of a bitch,” you hear a voice just across the line of trees. You see all four of the men emerging from the underbrush, annoyed looks on their faces.

“What the hell did I say?” Shane growls, stomping over to you.

“I’m a tracker too, dammit. I can help,” you snarl back at him in hushed tones, looking to Daryl, “tell em, Dare.”

“Taught her everything I know,” sarcasm dripping the otherwise prideful remark. He's crouching down onto the path of footprints again, "Looks like you found her trail again," he says, running his fingers over the footprints you were deciphering.

“Better if you and Glenn get back to the highway, people are going to start panicking,” RIck tells Shane and Glenn. There’s conversation about keeping people preoccupied with chores. Shane locks his eyes on you, fuming. He turns his back after a long moment and starts his way back with Glenn. You stay with Rick and Daryl now and continue into the woods to find the lost little girl. 

“Tracks are gone,” Rick says after awhile. 

You’re crouching with Daryl where he has just stopped, pointing at some of the tracks in the woods, “they’re faint, ain't gone.” you say quietly.

“How can you tell? I don’t see anything but dirt, grass…”

“You want a lesson in tracking or you wanna find that girl?” Daryl remarks, “we gotta get our ass off that interstate.” You try your best to hide the smile, remembering the days you were the one complaining to Daryl about not understanding this crap. But now when you look down, you can see the wet marks she made when she came through the woods, tiny changes in where the leaves touch the ground that show her tiny footsteps. The way she was cautious in the woods, tripping here and there.

“Here,” you say pointing, “looks like she veered off through there,” you point to the left, and Daryl lengthens his stride to look for the trail in front of you.

“How’d you two meet, anyway?” Rick suddenly asks next to you, and when you don't answer he continues: “I could tell you knew each other from before right away–Daryl doesn’t seem like the type to bring a random girl out from the woods unannounced from what I’ve noticed,” 

You look up at him with a small smile, “you’d be surprised,” 

“He’s gentle with you,” Rick adds quietly.

“I ain’t gentle,” Daryl grumbles under his breath up ahead.

“The man is sayin’ somethin’ nice, Daryl, for Christ’s sake,” you chuckle to him. 

“And you and Shane? The way he looked when he saw you comin’ out of those woods with Daryl the other day…” Rick asks carefully. 

You look back up at him, unsure of what to say. Shane was his partner, so clearly if he wanted to tell Rick about you he would’ve. Another stake goes through your heart as you realize he had no idea who you were. The countless nights you and Shane spent together and he never even bothered mentioning you. You had actually met Rick before, but he must not remember, and you were fine to not retell the story, it wasn't exactly your most cherished memory. The time you met him was overshadowed by the anger and sadness you had felt with Shane during the encounter. Just remembering it now makes you shake your head to yourself. You're about to open your mouth to make an excuse--

But suddenly there's rustling in the woods like footsteps. You all get down, Daryl pointing his crossbow at attention. You all move up to get a closer look–it’s a lone walker in the woods. It hasn’t seen you yet. All three of you look at each other quietly, and Daryl points in different directions for you to move in. Rick goes forward, you stay off to the side, raising your rifle. You most likely won’t fire it, you don’t want to bring attention, but just in case— you’ll be ready.

Rick gets up on his feet and runs in front of the walker to grab its attention. It sees him, and Daryl has an arrow in its temple before it can take a step further.

You run up to it, and your heart drops when you see the fresh blood on it.

“Sophia!” Daryl calls into the woods. They both meet you by the walker’s body. He looks back down to see Rick looking closer at its hands, “what you lookin’ for?”

“Skin under the fingernails. It’s fed recently–there’s flesh caught in its teeth,” he grimaces, looking up at the both of you.

“Yeah, what kinda flesh?” Daryl asks quietly.

“Only one way to find out,” Rick says as he pulls out a knife.

“Oh god,” you say, turning to hold your hand over your nose and mouth.

“Here, I’ll do it,” Daryl offers to Rick behind you, “how many kills you skin and gut in your life anyway? And mine’s sharper,” he pulls out his knife and begins to work on the body.

The sound of the knife cutting into the walker and Daryl reaching around inside makes your skin crawl, your stomach threatening to bring up the little it has in it. 

“There’s the gut bag,” Daryl murmurs, taking out its innards. You turn around to watch them bring pieces of something boney and furry out. 

“Looks like the bastard had himself a woodchuck for lunch,” Daryl finally says, holding a skull up. 

“Least we know,” Rick says, and Daryl agrees, repeating it back. They both get up, wiping their hands on the ground. 

You’re all climbing up the side up the side of the hill up to the road again, a frazzled Carol catching your eye. Her face drops as she sees you, “you didn’t find her?”

“Trail went cold,” Rick explains, “we’ll pick it up again at first light,”

“You can’t leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods,” Carol begins to cry. 

Daryl’s voice is soft as he speaks up, “Out in the dark’s no good,” he hoists his crossbow over his shoulder, “we’d just be trippin’ over ourselves. More people’d get lost,”

“I’m sorry, Carol,” you whisper, reaching to rest your hand on her arm. 

“But she’s 12!” Carol exclaims, pulling away,  “She can’t be out there on her own! You didn’t find anything?”

“I know this is hard,” Rick soothes, “but I’m asking you not to panic,” he goes on to try to soothe her, and the rest of the group is joining the commotion.

“Is that blood?” Carol stills, looking down at Rick and Daryl’s stained clothes. Their hands still have traces of walker muck on them. 

“We took down a walker,” Rick explains calmly, “it was nowhere near Sophia,”

“How can you know that?” Andrea asks quietly, walking up to the group.

You and Rick look to Daryl, “we cut the son’bitch open,” he says gently, “made sure,”

“How could you just leave her out there to begin with?” Carol asks with venom, “how could you just leave her?!”

Rick leans down, trying to explain–his face full of pain. Everyone is on her, apologizing, trying to make her understand. You put your head in your hands, the heels of your palms rubbing into your eyes. You’re walking away as the sun begins to turn the sky orange with twilight approaching.

x Flashback x

It must've been the hottest day of the summer when you, Daryl, and–strangely– Merle went down to the lake that day. Merle had brought the stereo and weed on his motorcycle, you holding tight to his torso, sitting on the back of the bike. You turn your head back to see Daryl on his bicycle behind you, with a small bag strapped over his shoulder, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. The wind felt incredible on your face as you neared the lake, and when Merle pulled up to the dirt path by a big tree that marked the beginning of the trail down to the water, you couldn’t wait to get down there. You quickly swung your leg off the bike, and Merle looked over with a cheeky grin, “I kinda like feelin’ you grab hold of me like that, girl” he said smugly, “should do it again sometime,”

“Yeah, okay Merle,” you scoffed, patting his shoulder with a smile as Daryl is pulling up on his bike. He dropped it by the tree, pulling the cord around the trunk to lock the bike in place. 

“Quit hittin’ on Y/N, Merle, she’s gon’ rip yer head off one of these days,” Daryl said, passing by the both of you. You can’t help but laugh harder when Merle looked over at you with a feigned hurt face. 

All three of you headed down to the water, Merle passing you a joint when you made it to your usual spot. Daryl dropped his bag, and started stripping down to his boxers. You took a small hit from the joint in your hands, the first inhale already making you a little light headed. You passed it back to Merle, who took it gingerly, sitting it between his lips. His cheeks suck in and puffs of smoke come out his nose and mouth as he sits against the big tree. 

Merle hadn’t been around to see Daryl in awhile, so when both of them showed up at your house that afternoon, you were happy to take them up on the offer to head to the lake. Shane was at work all day, so you knew he’d call later anyway. You didn’t feel like waiting up for him. 

Merle leaned down to the stereo to turn on a radio channel.

“I hear you’re leavin’ us, college girl,” he said, turning to you with a sarcastic sneer.

“Got a problem, Merle?” 

“No, no, just that you’re gonna be leavin’ my little brother on his own is all,” he said, trying to be casual. But you knew he actually worried about Daryl when he wasn’t around to protect him. As rough as Merle was around the edges, he was all in all soft at heart. Not that he would actually let anyone see that part of him. It only ever came out when he was punching guys in the stomach for ganging up on Daryl or head butting someone for getting their hands on you. 

“He’s got you, ain’t he? And I’m not even goin’ that far,” you said, shaking your shorts down your legs. 

“Might not be far, but you won’t come back,” he said quietly, looking up into your eyes. His blue eyes were similar to Daryl’s, but didn’t hold as much warmth in them. His were cold and lifeless since he left home years ago. 

Instead of answering him, you turned and headed into the water. 

You’re neck deep in the lake with Daryl, he’s shooting the shit about some asshole that tried to rip him off on a part he needed for his bicycle the other day. 

“Then the fucker tried to get me to buy this other-–” Daryl began to complain, but he was cut off by the sudden uproar on the lake shore. You both whip your head in the direction of the noise.

“Ain’t you got better things to do than harassin’ me, you Barney Fife lookin’ freaks!” Merle shouted at the two men grabbing at him now. You and Daryl tried to swim ashore as fast as you could, running up as soon as your feet could touch the bottom.

“What the hell!?” Daryl yelled, both of you finally coming up in front of them. One of the officers was slender, with short brown curly hair on the top of his head. He was clean shaved, except for the light shadow that had grown on his face overnight. He was holding Merle by the hands behind his back in handcuffs. Daryl was charging up to him, but you did your best to grab him by the arms and bring him back before he could get himself in trouble. The other officer was in the police car grabbing something from the front seat, but when he stood up you recognized the dark hair and tall, muscular stature right away. When you noticed him, you paused your fighting with Daryl's flying limbs.

“Shane?” you asked. Daryl’s head whipped up at the name, his anger visibly starting to set ablaze even more now.

Shane was walking up, his steps not as confident as usual. He was looking at you with mixed emotions you couldn’t quite read. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. Then, he put his head down as he walked up to you all, not making eye contact. His hands sat on his hips, thumbs in the loop holes at his waist.

“Shane, what the hell is this?” you asked again firmly.

“Miss,” the other officer interjected, “we got a call from the owner of this area that told us there were kids on her property smoking marijuana and playing loud music,”

“‘Her property?’” you parroted, “this ain’t no one’s–”

“Unfortunately miss, this is private property,” the officer stated calmly, “I’m gonna have to take this gentleman in for having illegal substances, you're lucky I don't take you all down for trespassing,” 

“Shane, what the fuck? Are you serious?” you said, abashed that he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You know this girl, Shane?” the officer finally asked.

Shane looked up to his partner, then back at you, and shook his head. 

“I don't know, Rick. Maybe from the station? If she’s with these two I must’ve seen her there.” 

You stare wide-eyed at him now, the anger in your blood beginning to boil. What the fuck? The other man didn’t look totally convinced, but he seemed to take his partner’s word and started turning around with Merle in tow.

“Must be a real slow day for you two, huh, tough guys?” Merle bites out at them and they turn him around to leave.

Your eyes bored into the back of Shane as he walked away. 

Daryl is shaking next to you with ire, “Don’t you got donuts waitin’ for ya somewhere? Why don’t you go chase some real criminals for once!” he shouted at them.

“Don’t make me come back there and take you too, Dixon,” Shane called back to Daryl. 

“You’re just gonna put up with this bullshit?” Daryl turned and yelled in your face as the police car doors shut. You still stared out at the car as it pulled away, frozen in shock. 

Daryl grabbed your shoulder to get your attention, shaking it, “Your boyfriend just took off with Merle, pretended he didn’t even fucking know you, and you’re just going to stand there?” 

You finally looked over to him, and his eyes softened slightly. He knew immediately how hurt you were in that moment, but the anger about his brother blazed over his faltering demeanor. 

“I gotta go, Y/N,” he shook his head, his voice icily low, “you know the lock for the bike,” he put on his clothes and ran for Merle’s motorcycle.

[halfadeckofcards]

Needles and Pins

Trouble saunters up to your workplace in a gas station in the middle of Nowhere Special, Southern U.S.A. Night after night, it comes armed with a charming smile and bared teeth. And despite knowing full well it's a bad idea, you just can't keep yourself from being lured in.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom(s): Near Dark 1987, Abigail 2024 Pairing: Severen x AFAB!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett Word count: 9.8K Content warnings: Canon divergence, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, vampires, alcohol consumption, manipulation, hypnotism, physical assault, biting, blood drinking, making out, brief gun violence, reader makes some dumb decisions because of hypnotism and/or blood loss, threesome, grinding, blood kink, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, handjobs, implied reader death, reader is AFAB but gender neutral AO3 Link: Here

Author's Note: Ohhhh baby this idea's been blooming since I saw a gifset comparing Near Dark's Severen and Abigail's Frank. They're so alike but so different it's insane, and the idea of getting tag-teamed by them was too fucking good to pass up. Plus it's Multi-May, an event run by my lovely friend @bisexual-horror-fan, so I figured - why not? Hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

It didn’t occur to you that the harbinger of your little town’s demise would be an old RV that was one pothole away from shuddering itself to pieces. You’d seen plenty of them over the years. Most folks who weren’t local were just passing through on their way elsewhere – stopping for the night to stretch their legs, to sleep, to grab gas or a drink or a pack of cigarettes, whatever. It’s just how it was living in a snoozy little town not far from a major highway. Plenty of people stopped for a while, but few ever lingered. So it was strange when they did. It made you suspicious.

But on the surface, there’d been nothing to suspect.

You’d been at the gas station counter just past midnight, scrolling through your phone, when they’d pulled up in a dirty RV that had to be decades old. A family of five. Had come from some other part of the South, judging by their accents. Three of them had come inside – an older man, a woman who seemed to be his partner despite being about twenty years younger, and a young boy you assumed was their son. The man had been the one to speak to you. He was perfectly polite, friendly, charming even. He’d introduced himself as Jesse. He and his family were roadtripping across the U.S. and had stopped to get gas, stretch their legs, and spend a couple days not cramped inside an RV.

You’d nodded politely as he’d spoken. Had rung up the gas and a couple magazines the kid had grabbed – none of the brightly colored kiddie ones. You hadn’t commented on it, kept your face as pleasantly friendly and neutral as possible. When Jesse has asked if there was a motel in this town, you’d given him directions. They’d paid in cash and left. And you hadn’t thought much of it, because it was the kind of story you’d heard about a hundred times. They’d stay for a couple days, realize there was fuckall to do here outside of sitting in a bar or sitting in a church or going to the grocery store, and they’d leave.

So what if their stares, hard and intense and glimmering with an unfathomable something, piercing like they could see through your skin to the veins and muscle and bone beneath, had lingered in your mind for the rest of your shift? So what if the kid glared at you with a simmering hostility and a calculatedness that felt distinctly wrong? So what if something in the back of your mind told you something wasn’t right about them?

You’d met plenty of folks passing by in this job. You’d met plenty of the friendly kind, and a few of the shadier kind. And you’d made a habit of listening to your gut when something felt off. Someone like you working largely alone in the dead of night couldn’t exactly take chances. So you paid attention to that prickle on the back of your neck, that curling unease in your stomach.

But the kid…. they were a family with a little boy. You’d brushed the unease off and gone back to scrolling through your phone to pass the time.

Then they’d come back around the next night, again past midnight. This time it was the kid and the two who’d stayed outside – a blond haired girl and a man wearing sunglasses, a leather jacket, and the kind of grin that set you on edge as soon as you saw it.

“Hey there.” You said the words with calm friendliness. “Can I help y’all?”

“I’m sure you can.” The man swaggered up to the counter with the confidence of someone who owned the place. You resisted the urge to cringe away.

You weren’t exactly the type to scare easy. What was wrong with you?

The girl and the kid were wandering, eyeballing shelves of candy and snacks without touching anything. They were siblings, maybe. Both blond like the woman from yesterday. Not like Sunglasses. He looked closer in age to –

Your attention snapped back to him as he stopped in front of you and propped an elbow against the counter. “What kind of ah…. fun do y’all get up to here? Got any bars, clubs…” His gaze flitted up and down your body. “….Strip clubs? Or is this more of a ‘grannies at town hall’ kinda place?”

You schooled your features back to neutrality despite the rising discomfort in your chest. “No clubs, adult or otherwise. Sorry.” You weren’t really. “There is a bar, though. It’s just down the road from the motel, actually. Surprised you didn’t see it earlier.”

“Well, yknow how it is. Kiddie-winkies keepin us busy n all that.” Sunglasses gave a vague wave toward said kids. The boy shot him a look of cold fury, while the girl seemed engrossed in reading the label on a packet of Nerds.

You gave him an obligatory nod. “Sure.”

The man studied you for a moment. After a beat of uncomfortable silence, he tipped his head and pulled off the sunglasses, then studied you again. His eyes were blue.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me round town, would ya?”

You blinked at the whiplash of this family’s oddness and Sunglasses now apparently coming onto you. Because that’s only what he could be doing. Ladies-man type. Alright. Sure. Not the first time it had happened.

“I don’t get off till seven a.m.,” you said apologetically. You’ll probably be gone by then, and I’ll be heading home to pass the fuck out, you didn’t say.

“Aw. Shame.” He tilted his head, eyed you up and down again. Like you were a strange little puzzle to figure out. Or a particularly interesting piece of meat. His smile turned cheeky and, if you were being honest, just a little bit strangely charming. “Don’t suppose I can convince you to skip the rest of your shift?”

Well. The idea was certainly tempting. “Not if I wanna pay the bills,” you answered instead.

He nodded and made a little hum. “Right. No mercy for the lil guy, huh? Well.” He straightened, flicking his sunglasses back on. The grin was sharp and feral again, and it poked at some ancient prey animal instinct far in the back of your brain. “Thanks for the directions, sugar. See ya round.”

And then they were gone.

You really hoped the kids hadn’t pocketed anything while you were distracted.

They were still in town days later, long after you’d expected them to leave. You only ever saw them at night, and even then, it was glimpses. Maybe that should’ve been strange to you, but you were something of a nocturnal creature yourself. Sleep all day, wake in the afternoon, work the night shift, come back home as the sun was rising and pass out soon after. Maybe they worked the night shift too, whatever it is they did. Though that didn’t explain the kids’ sleep schedule. It occurred to you that they should’ve been in school but hey, maybe they were homeschooled. It wasn’t your business. Maybe it should’ve set off alarm bells, but you knew better than to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.

But apparently Sunglasses had never learned that.

You’d been intending to grab some groceries and take them back home before your shift, but as soon as you stepped up the curb to head into the Harris Teeter, someone called your name and on instinct you turned around. And were met with a familiar face.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Sunglasses sidled up to you but notably didn’t make any physical contact. Points for that, you supposed.

“Well,” you said dryly, “I do live here.” You weren’t on the clock and didn’t have to have your customer service face on. You were free to say what you like, leave any time you like.

“Really? Thought you mighta been stuck haunting that place.”

“Stuck haunting a twenty-year-old gas station in this town? No fucking thanks. I’d rather drink myself to death,” you scoffed.

A delighted look sprang across Sunglasses’s face. “Sounds like a plan to me! How bout it? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Whoa whoa whoa, wait. You mentally backpeddled. “No – that’s not what – I have stuff I need to do before I clock in–” You weren’t exactly eager to get to work early, but neither were you eager to let a strange man buy you a drink.

“Aw, c’mon now.” He took off those sunglasses and met your gaze. “Just one drink. It’ll be quick.”

….He was pretty good-looking. He was the posterboy of tall dark and handsome, with the pale blue eyes, mussed black hair, and jawline. The leather and chunky rings gave a rougher edge to that prettiness. And there was something else about him – an erraticness, an unpredictableness, that was as enticing as it was unnerving. And really, how many other guys had tried to come onto you before, invasive and unappealing? How many of them had actually been truly tempting? Exactly none of them. And now that a guy like this, strange as he was, showed up and offered you a drink, were you really about to say no, even when you wanted to say yes, deep down? Were you really about to shoot down the only decent chance you’d gotten in this middle of nowhere Southern hell?

“Alright.” It just slipped out. It slipped out so easily it startled you.

Why would you say yes like that?

“Alright!” The man threw an arm around you and tugged you away from the grocery store parking lot – and towards the bar on the other side of the road. The bar you’d pointed out to him just days before.

Your head whirled. What the fuck? Why did you say yes? What had possibly compelled you to say yes to this stranger?

“I don’t. I don’t even know your name,” you stuttered.

His grin turned cheeky as he glanced down at you. “Severen. Feel free to wear it out much as you like.”

It was an astronomically bad idea to get involved with a total stranger. A total stranger whose smile gave you bad vibes. A total stranger who’d probably be leaving within a couple days. A total stranger who’d been so very eager to have your attention. There were red flags. He probably wasn’t involved in some drug or sex trafficking scheme, but you still didn’t know a damn thing about him. Severen. You wondered if that was the name he’d been given, or if it was something he’d chosen himself for the punk-cowboy thing he had going on.

And yet, despite your reservations, here you were. You weren’t usually so swayed by a pretty face, but something about those blue eyes had compelled you to say yes. And against all odds..... you were enjoying yourself.

Severen was engaging, to say the least. Intense. Energetic. Constantly in motion, even when he was sitting – moving his arms and hands animatedly as he spoke, bouncing his leg, fiddling with his sunglasses or his un-drunk glass of alcohol.

The longer you sat there and listened to him – the more you stared at him – the more you found yourself loosening your grip on caution. The more your reservations wilted away. You couldn’t even blame your drink, since there was no alcohol in it. He was just…. kind of fascinating. And energetic. He made you laugh. And despite your earlier misgivings, he was kind of sweet. He told you about his family. Apparently Jesse and Diamondback, the blond woman, had found him at a low point in his life and taken him in, provided him with food and shelter and company he hadn’t had in a long time. And they’d done the same with the two kids, Mae and Homer. They were a patched-up family who stuck together and took care of each other when no one else did. It was sweet. It brushed against something lonely and untouched in your heart. To have that kind of family, that kind of reliability…. you shoved down the pang of sheer want it stirred up.

You could not start wanting and getting attached like that. Not when they were just passing through.

Still. You couldn’t stop meeting his gaze. You quickly stopped minding how often his arm brushed against yours. And you very quickly started to idly wonder if there was room for a sixth in that beat up RV.

When your phone alarm pinged at 10:30 p.m., you didn’t want to leave the comfort of the bar and Severen’s scorching attention. You could hear the reluctance in your own voice as you said, “I should head to work.” But God, you didn’t want to. You almost hoped he’d ask you to skip out on your shift, like he had last time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to say no.

But instead he just fixed you with a smirk and said, “Prolly.” He waved you off as you reached for your wallet. “Don’t worry bout it, sugar. Drink’s on me.”

You hesitated. “Well. Thanks. This was actually really nice.” Please give me a reason to stay.

“Course.” His gaze flicked away from yours, down your figure, sizing you up again. Did he see anything different from the first time he’d done that? Did you…. feel something different from the first time?

You forced yourself to say, “See you round.”

“I sure will.”

You left the bar in a haze, as if slipping out of a dream. By the time you were clocking into your shift, reality had fully settled back in and left your body oddly heavy, limbs buzzing with the faint sensation of pins and needles. Doubt had come back in full force. About a dozen questions whirled around your mind all night. What the fuck had you been thinking? Why did you say yes to him? Why did you so desperately want to head back to the bar and find him again?

You kept a wary eye on the door for the entire night. But there wasn’t a single damn sign of life, even if you felt like something was watching you from beyond the bleached lights of the gas station. You were almost relieved as the sun peeked up from the horizon at the end of your shift. As if it would protect you.

As if it would shield you from whatever went bump in the night.

You kept running into Severen. You kept making bad decisions. He would take you to the bar or walk to work with you or come to the gas station and hang around like it wasn’t a public establishment you were supposed to be running. Every time you wanted to tell him to fuck off, every time you wanted to ask why he was still here and why he was stalking you, he’d make eye contact and the words would die on your tongue. He’d draw you in. He’d say something that made you smile or laugh or, God forbid, that made your face warm and your breath come a little too quick. Things were moving far too fast far too soon, and you knew it. Whenever he wasn’t around, you snapped back to reality and promised yourself that he wouldn’t reel you in again. You had to cut him off. Whoever he was, he was trouble. You could sense it. But then he’d pop up again and your resolve would instantly burn away – you’d forget why you wanted him to stop in the first place. He was hypnotizing.

Even now, eight days after they’d first come to town, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care that Severen was perched on the gas station counter, teasing you and making you giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush and completely distracting you from what you should be doing. Which was acting professional while there was a customer. Which you most certainly were not doing. He was making you fucking stupid, and you couldn’t care less.

The customer kept eyeballing you from out the side of his glasses. Embarrassment burned in your stomach. But you just couldn’t drag your attention away from Severen for more than a few seconds.

“Anyways, like I was sayin – Diamondback took one look at this sucker and just bout knocked his block clean off.” He whistled and you jumped when he snapped an arm out, as if punching an invisible attacker. He laughed at your reaction. “Knew from then on never to mess with that bitch.”

“She sounds pretty badass,” you admitted. You wondered what she’d think of you. After the initial meeting with Jesse, you’d spotted her wandering around the town at night, sometimes laughing and with her arm around a young blushing guy who’d moved to town a couple years ago. You wondered about that. Didn’t ask.

“Yeah, she ain’t half bad. Ole snake’s got one helluva bite, that’s for damn sure.” Severen paused, as if considering, then leaned over with a mischievous look. His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I been told I got a good bite too.”

Oh you could not be thinking about that at the cash register. You ducked your head and furiously looked for something to do with your hands. Severen’s self-satisfied laugh – it was more of a giggle, really – just made your face warm more.

A magazine smacked down against the counter. You snapped your head up. The customer was staring at you with an unamused expression. The slicked-back hair and chain necklace and obvious impatience all just screamed douchebag, as if the words from his mouth didn’t say it loud enough. “If you lovebirds are done – can I check out?” Oh, and a Yank to boot. New York or New Jersey, if the accent was anything to go by.

“Sure thing,” you said with forced niceness.

“These too.” He tossed down a packet of spearmint gum and a bottle of iron pills. You nodded and rung them up.

You didn’t have to look at Severen to know he was sizing the customer up; the dirty look the customer was giving him in return was indication enough. You grit your teeth. Please don’t say anything. Please don’t start a fight. Please don’t –

“Got a problem?” Severen asked. The cheerfulness in his voice felt like the warning rattle of a snake. You sucked a breath in from between your teeth.

“Yeah, actually. Think you can fuckin move?”

For a second, you were certain Severen was going to just tackle him and start a fight then and there. But instead he hopped down from the counter and clapped a hand onto the man’s shoulder. That grin was still fixed on his face, but it was thin and sharp like a razor. “First come first served, Yankee.”

Something like disdain or anger flickered across the customer’s face, but you jumped in before he could say anything. “That’ll be twenty-four dollars and seventy-eight cents.”

The customer’s gaze bounced between you two, something unreadable in his shockingly blue eyes. He gave an annoyed huff, shoved Severen’s hand off, and rifled around his jacket pocket for a wallet. He tossed a twenty and a five down. “Keep the change.”

“Alright. Would you like a receipt?”

“No.”

You shoved the items in a shitty plastic bag and thrust it over the counter to him, accompanying the motion with a blithe smile. “Here you go. Have a nice night.”

“Uh-huh.” He paused before heading out, giving you a weird raised-eyebrow look. “Don’t let the fuckin bed bugs bite.” He said it obnoxiously, knowingly, like it should mean something. Your face heated as you recalled what Severen had whispered in your ear. Fucking asshole.

You waited till he was out of sight to turn your disapproving frown to Severen. The urge to melt and let it go was near overwhelming, but you shoved it aside. “What the fuck was that about?”

“Yankees ain’t got manners, that’s what.” Severen said it dismissively, tossing his head like a dog shaking off flies. Then he sprung over the counter and landed with a jostle of leather and buckles and spurs, and he popped up to full height with an expression that promised nothing good. The same expression he’d been wearing when he first set foot here. You startled back. He followed you.

“Since when do you care about that sort of thing?” Something rung in warning at the back of your mind, even as that fuzzy contentedness that came whenever you looked at Severen tried to smother it. Something was off.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Lookit me.”

Rough fingers curled around your jaw and tilted your head up. As soon as you made eye contact, the warning in your head went silent. The tension in your jaw and your brow and your body unspooled. You went limp, letting Severen herd you against the back wall and cage you in with his arms and his body. His head blocked the sterile glow of the neon lights, casting you in shadow. His breath settled against your lips.

“Now, aren’t you a pretty lil thing?” he murmured, all soft honeyed tones and Southern charm. You would’ve liked to have thought you were immune to that sort of thing, being in this business and all, but your heart hammered so loud in your ears and your throat that you couldn’t think straight. “Thought that since I first saw you. Thought to myself, ‘oh, well I could just eat this lil sweetheart up.’ Wouldn’t I be a lucky man?”

He laid a hand on your chest, just below your throat, fingers curling against your pulse as his thumb caressed your skin. The edge of his mouth twitched up in a smirk. “You scared? Excited?”

Your tongue felt heavy. Everything did, heavy and weightless at the same time. “Yeah,” was all you could get out.

“You weak in the knees for me? Lil heart aflutterin?” The hand at your neck had climbed to join the one at your jaw. He cradled you like something delicate. “You sweet on me?”

You managed a weak laugh. “Y-yeah.” That was one way of putting it. One way to describe whatever the fuck was going on with your body.

He smiled. Brushed his nose against yours. “Good. That’s good.”

“Severen.... please.....” You weren’t quite sure what you were pleading for. What, exactly, you wanted him to do. “Please.”

“Don’t you worry sugar. Imma make you feel real good.”

Lips pressed to yours. Slightly chapped and cool, but firm and relentless, a sweet moving pressure that had your head spinning even more than it already was. His body pinned you to the wall and his fingers tilted your head to the side, moving you how he pleased. He pressed his tongue into your mouth sooner than you would’ve expected. A helpless noise came from your throat. Heat shuddered down your spine. He kissed you deeply, languorously, as if he had an eternity to explore you.

A thought bubbled up from the back of your mind – what if a customer walked in on you? But then Severen was slotting a thigh between your legs and biting at your lower lip and you stopped thinking much at all. Your hands slid under his jacket, racking up his shirt and dipping along the curve of his spine as you explored smooth, cool skin. Or maybe you were just burning so hot that he felt cold in comparison.

You whined when he pulled away, only to sigh in relief when his mouth latched onto your neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses and scraping teeth and one hand cradling your cheek as you tilted your head away and gave him better access. Fucking Christ he needed to stop being a tease. You squirmed and dragged his hips closer, sliding yourself on his thigh and biting back a sound of pleasure at the friction. One of his hands dropped down to brace your hip. He huffed a laugh against your skin.

“God, please Severen,” you breathed.

He hummed and pressed a kiss to your pulse. His fingers dug into your skin.

And then he bit you.

Not a playful nip. Not a hickey. A full-power clamp of jaws like a dog or an alligator biting down on its prey. Teeth tore through your skin, punctured clean through like you were butter left out in the sun. It knocked the breath right out of you. Pain exploded through your veins. Your body thrashed of its own accord. Your mind screamed awake.

A gunshot rang out. Severen yanked away from you, teeth ripping back out your neck. A cry of pain unlodged from your throat and you stumbled away, sliding down against the wall. Severen swung around and snapped bloody teeth at something beyond your line of sight. “What the FUCK–” Another gunshot. Severen yowled and his body jerked and buckled. He collapsed to the floor. You scrambled away from his body as his words ricocheted in your own mind. What the FUCK....?? Your breath sawed in and out from your chest far too quickly. Your head buzzed.

What the fuck had just happened?

There was the crunching of broken glass – when had one of the window panes been broken? – and a head peeked over the counter. Slicked back hair and glasses and ice blue eyes.

The customer from earlier.

You stared at him with what was probably a panicked, bug-eyed look. He stared back at you. Then his gaze drifted slightly to your left and his eyes darkened. “You’re uh. You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah.” Your voice came out raw. “He bit me.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a bite.”

“Yeah.” Was this really the time or place for this conversation?

You weren’t sure if you’d said that last part out loud, because the man grimaced and leaned over the counter, offering you a hand. You took it and tried not to think about the fact that yours was shaking. He yanked you up with ease then helped you clamber over the counter. There was a pistol in his other hand.

Your head swam.

“We should, uh, get you out of here.” The man shoved the gun into his waistband and glanced around. A hand snaked around your upper arm. Normally you would’ve pulled away, but you weren’t exactly confident in your ability to stay upright. Not when you were shaking and fucking bleeding from your neck as if you’d been bitten by a vam–

“Holy shit.”

The man gave you a look that was halfway between annoyed and alarmed. “What?”

“Did I just get bitten by a vampire?” you blurted. He grimaced again. You realized how that sounded. “No, I’m not – shut the fuck up, don’t look at me like that–”

“Oh come on–” For a guy who’d gone out of his way to save you and shoot the maybe-vampire-maybe-crazy-guy who’d fucking bitten you, he seemed pretty fucking fed up. “Here.” He grabbed a bottle of orange juice from one of the drink shelves and shoved it into your hands. “Drink the fuck up. We’re leaving.”

“We can’t leave the scene of a crime. There’s a fucking dead guy!”

“Yeah, unless he’s a fucking vampire, in which case I don’t think a bullet’s gonna do much to stop him.” He practically dragged you out of the gas station with him. You couldn’t exactly argue with his logic, even if the world was tilting around you and you were lightheaded and your thoughts wouldn’t stop sloshing around like soup inside your skull.

God, how the fuck was this even happening?

“Got somewhere we can hole up?” the man asked.

You almost blurted, Who’s we? Trusting a stranger was what had gotten you into this mess. Then again, he’d gone out of his way to save you. And even if a bullet didn’t do much to stop a vampire, you had to admit you felt marginally safer with a human shield. As awful as that thought was.

“Um.” You tried to collect your scattered brain. Took a gulp of orange juice and cringed at the bitter taste. “There’s a church that isn’t too far from here.”

“That’s not–” The man cut himself off.

You glared at him. “What?”

He gave you another annoyed look. You again debated yanking your arm away from him and walking yourself. Instead you took another sip of orange juice. You probably weren’t putting enough pressure on your neck.

“That shit probably doesn’t work. Hallowed ground and crosses and all that religious BS.”

“What? Why?” You frowned. “Don’t tell me your name is Van Helsing.”

He scoffed. “It’s Frank. And your little vampire buddy didn’t need to be welcomed into that shithole to get to you, so that’s probably a myth. And who the hell knows what else is a myth too, right? We could be wasting our fuckin time in a church.”

You strained to remember whether or not there had been a welcome sign on the door of the gas station. Working there for so long had made you blind to the details of the place. You tried twisting around to catch a glance of the gas station receding behind you, but Frank was pulling you along too quickly and had you in an iron grip. Shit, maybe he was right.

Another thought hit you. “Oh fuck,” you said aloud.

“What now–?”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” you snapped. “Severen, the fucking vampire, came here with four other people he calls family. I only ever see them around at night. They’re probably fucking vampires too.” A whole pack of vampires. Right under your goddamn nose. Then again, how were you supposed to expect something that wasn’t even supposed to exist?

“Oh, well that’s just peachy.”

You were walking down a cluster of buildings now, passing by the grocery store and the bar. Warm hazy lights cast an orange glow on everything and reflected off Frank’s glasses, obscuring your view of his eyes. His mouth was set in a flat, grim line. You couldn’t get a goddamn read on him, or why he was here, or why he was helping you. You didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but after Severen, your guard was firmly up.

But….

You sighed. “We can hide at my place. I never took Severen there.” Of course, there was always the possibility that he’d followed you at some point. But then why wouldn’t he have attacked you there rather than in public? You twisted around, trying to get a look behind you again. You didn’t see any angry leather-clad blood-stained guys tailing you. You didn’t see any bats. Did vampires even turn into bats? Fuck, who knew? At least at your place, you’d have kitchen knives. And garlic, if that worked. Did you have anything that could be used as stakes? Did that even work? You’d heard decapitation was a sure way to kill anything, but you doubted you had the physical strength or mental fortitude to cut through someone’s spine, even if the bastard had tried to kill you.

Ultimately, you did end up going to your place. Your hands were shaking hard enough that you had trouble getting your keys into the door, and Frank glancing out into the open empty night didn’t do anything to ease your nerves. Especially not when his hand was resting on the grip of his pistol. It just made you want to start scanning the tiny neighborhood too. But once the door was unlocked, Frank ushered you in, slipping in right behind you before you slammed the door shut and locked it again. And hooked up the extra chain lock too. Not that it would protect you from vampire super strength. You assumed that one was real.

You flicked on the lights, but Frank immediately shut them back off. Only half a protest escaped your lips before he interrupted. “Nope. As far as anybody else is concerned, no one’s home.”

“Fine. Just give me a second.” You flicked the lights back on long enough to check the analogue clock hanging in the living room. “It’s just past three-thirty. We still have a few hours before sunrise. We can stay here until it’s light out, assuming that one’s real.” You hadn’t seen Severen or any of his pack out in the daylight. You were pretty sure that one was real, but now Frank had you second-guessing every bit of vampire fiction you’d ever seen.

But Frank just said, “Yeah. I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You nodded dumbly. Stared at the faint outline of his face in the darkness. Christ on a stick. You were stuck with this guy until then. Another stranger. A stranger with a gun, no less.

Fuck.

“Alright. You close the blinds. I’ll do something about this.” You gestured to your neck. It had stopped bleeding, but you were damp and sticky with your own blood. “We can, I dunno, rub garlic around the door and windows afterwards?”

“You really think garlic’s gonna work?” Frank said doubtfully.

“I don’t fucking know!! You figure something out, Mister fucking Van Helsing! I’m gonna go deal with the fucking bite on my fucking neck.” You beelined for your bedroom and left him to his own devices. Hopefully he’d trip over something in the living room, the fucking douchebag.

You grabbed a change of clothes then stepped into the bathroom. There were no windows in the closet-sized space, so you closed the door, locked it, and flicked the light on. Through your squinting at the sudden brightness, you caught a glimpse of your reflection.

Jesus Christ, you looked like a walking corpse.

Okay. That was fine. That was expected. Whatever.

You stripped and dumped your bloodied clothes onto the floor. Jumping in the shower probably wasn’t the best move when you had a possible vampire thirsting after you and a stranger with a gun in your house, so you went with a dampened towel instead. When you’d cleaned up most of the blood, you dropped the towel onto the pile of your soiled clothes. You tried not to wince at the idea of throwing them away. The shirt and towel probably weren’t salvageable.

Not that that mattered right now. You were busy examining the bite mark on your neck. Miraculously, it had stopped bleeding on its own, though blood welled if you poked it too roughly. It had hurt at first. Now it was just weirdly, worryingly numb. The teeth marks were deep and torn, hadn’t pierced through cleanly and had probably been jostled as you’d struggled against Severen. But it was definitely a bite mark. And it definitely wasn’t a normal human one. The thought made you a little woozy, to be honest. You crouched down, and the rush of blood being forced back up made your head spin.

This couldn’t be real. This could not be real, and it could not be happening to you right now specifically. This was fucking insane.

You reached for the small medical kit under the sink. How the fuck any of this worked, you couldn’t be sure, but cleaning the bite mark and slapping a plaster on it couldn’t make things any worse.

Vampires bit humans to turn them into vampires. But they usually had to feed the human their own vampire blood to actually turn them. That’s how it went in Interview with a Vampire and Dracula, right? And that hadn’t happened to you. So you were good. Right? Probably? The feeding blood thing was something vampire fiction generally agreed upon. That was probably real.

But wait, Dracula was actually able to go into the sun in the original book. It only weakened him. Shit, what if the bursting into flames in daylight thing was made up? Your heart dropped at the thought. Although, no, you hadn’t seen Severen or the rest of his pack during daylight hours. And an RV could be a pretty good place for vampires to hide if they blocked out all the windows. Okay then, that one seemed like a safe bet. You weren’t so sure about garlic. That one sounded pretty silly. And as much as you hated to admit it, Frank was probably right about vampires not needing to be invited in. So you couldn’t count on that to protect you. And what about religious iconography? You weren’t sure you had anything in your house for that anyway. Fucking hell. You’d been thrust into a world you didn’t understand and didn’t know the rules to. And you had to keep yourself alive because of it. Well, yourself and Frank.

Even if the garlic seemed silly, it couldn’t hurt either. And surely you had something around the house that could be used as a stake. Unless it had to be wood.... did it have to be a particular kind of wood....?

“Fuck,” you muttered to your reflection. Maybe Frank would have some ideas.

You finished cleaning up and getting dressed, and then you headed back out. “You see anything weird?” you asked as you opened the bedroom door. And stopped. Squinted in the darkness.

The living room was empty.

“....Frank?” Your heartbeat thumped in your ears as you peered into the kitchen. He wasn’t there. “Frank? Are you–”

Something grabbed you from behind. A hand muffled your shriek before it could leave your throat. You thrashed and kicked and bucked like an animal as you were dragged. Your elbow jammed against something solid. A grunt of pain hit your ear.

Then you were tossed onto the bed. The mattress softened the harshness of the fall, and you jerked upright immediately. You scrabbled for a weapon as a figure filled your doorway. Tall wiry gleaming glasses outline of a jacket –

“Sev–”

He pounced onto you and you shrieked again. Clawed and writhed and–

It wasn’t Severen. It was Frank. With a mouthful of sharp teeth baring down at you. Oh fuck.

“Now what are the chances of that, huh?” he sneered. “Getting attacked by two different vampires in one day? Talk about bad luck.”

“GET OFF!” You renewed your struggles, but that brief moment of shock had given Frank all the time he’d needed. He had you caged against the bed, grabbing your arms and pinning you down with his bodyweight. “No!!”

“Fraid this just isn’t your day.” He said it so cruelly, so carelessly, like you were little more than a beetle under his shoe. Tears pricked your eyes. God, you were so fucking stupid, you’d fallen for the same fucking shit again.... “Tears? Really? Now? We’re just getting to the good part.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted out.

He laughed softly. You jerked under him again, but he remained immovable. “Maybe in another life. Now. Hold still.”

He leaned in, teeth bared and breath puffing against the other side of your neck. “NO!” you screamed. You threw every ounce of energy in your body into heaving against him. One of your knees hit his gut. The air rushed out of him and he doubled over. You yanked a hand out of his grip and blindly grabbed something from the bedside table and smashed it against his head. He toppled to the side. You shoved him off and bolted.

You didn’t even make it to the bedroom door. A hand was on your arm and you were spinning and then you were on the mattress again, this time with Frank shoved up behind you and pinning you to the bed, your back to his front and your face pressed against the sheets. You hollered, half-muffled. He wrestled with your flailing arms.

“Not so fucking fast, bitch,” he spat in your ear. “I haven’t eaten in weeks. I’ve been buying my time on fucking gas station iron pills, but now that I’ve got live, squirming prey? You’re not getting away from me that easy.”

You snarled some combination of words at him. You weren’t even sure what. But you writhed and jerked and flailed and didn’t let up for one second, even as he pressed against you and swore at you.

“Yknow,” a familiar voice drawled, “it’d be easier if you hypnotized em. Right?”

You both froze. You turned your face to stare at the bedroom entrance.

Alive and well, leaning against the doorjamb with one leg crossed in front of the other, mouth and shirt smeared with blood that looked black in the darkness – Severen. Sunglasses and all. Very much not looking like a man who’d been recently shot.

Your heart plummeted. Despair like nothing you’d ever experienced washed through your body, cold and stinging like alcohol.

“The fuck you mean ‘hypnotized’?” Frank said. He didn’t sound smug anymore. Just pissed.

A disbelieving laugh burst out from Severen. “You don’t know about that? Ohhh I get it now!! Well I’ll be damned!!” He took a step forward, practically sauntered. “You’re a newbie, aren’t ya? You ain’t figured out all the perks yet! Yknow what else you ain’t figured out yet, newbie?” Another step forward. A sliver of light from the bathroom – you’d forgotten to turn the light off you’d just closed the door you’d been in such a rush – hit his sunglasses and illuminated the edge of a smile and blood-splattered skin. His voice turned sharp and low like you hadn’t heard before. “You don’t steal another vamp’s prey.”

Frank flinched behind you. You saw Severen move, but it took another second to figure out what else you were seeing. A pistol, gleaming and old-fashioned, aimed at Frank. It might’ve brought you relief in any other circumstance, but here, now, aimed at a vampire....?

“This might not kill you, but I can assure you, it hurts like a bitch.” Severen flashed his teeth at the both of you. “So how bout this, son? I’ll be the bigger man and let you go, and you fuck off into the night and never cross my way again. But first, and here’s the fun part – we share this lovely lil sweetheart here between the two of us. And if you say no, well,” he laughed cheerfully, “I’ll shoot ya and drink up by myself, and then I’ll make you regret stumblin into an elder.”

You couldn’t breathe. Two options. Neither of which ended with you still having a pulse.

“So!” Severen wiggled his free hand through the air. “What’ll it be?”

The following pause was heavy and lasted far too long. Please say no. Please refuse him. Please fight him or try to disarm him or fuck up and give me a chance to escape, please, God, please....

Frank sighed through his nose. “You know what? Fine. Fine! Whatever. As long as I get something out of this clusterfuck.”

The words triggered something in your brain, that primal drive to survive. You yelled and thrashed, hoping to catch him off guard and fling him off. He just hissed and squeezed your arms till your bones felt like they were about to snap. You cried out in pain. Tears blurred your vision.

“You wanna help me out here or what?” Frank asked Severen.

“Sure thing, partner!” The words dripped with saccharine venom. He neared the bed and reached up to his sunglasses. Hypnotism. Cold fear doused you.

“NnnNOOdon’tyoufuckindare!” You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away. Severen’s laugh twisted your insides unpleasantly.

“Aw now don’t be like that!” You heard shifting fabric, the creak of leather and jingle of a dozen pins and badges. Fingers forced their way under your chin and tugged at you, trying to coax you towards him as rings dug into your cheek. You struggled to resist. Clamped your jaws together and strained your neck muscles so hard it felt like something was about to pop. “I said, don’t be like that.” Nails dug into the skin at the back of your neck, piercing and hurting and lancing pain through your nerves. It shocked you into relenting, and Severen twisted your head towards him with a noise of approval. You screwed your eyes shut tighter. He tsked at you. “C’mon now, open up for Sev.”

“Here, let me,” Frank said from behind you. He yanked you away from the bed and clasped your upper arms in a near bone-breaking grip. You had no time to recover before he bit you and agony ripped through your neck and shoulder. On instinct your body arced, strained, tried to pull away from the pain as your eyes snapped open of their own accord. And then there were fingers around your chin, roughly yanking you down, forcing you to meet eyes the color of the afternoon sky –

“Relax, sweetheart. The three of us’re gonna have some real fun tonight.”

The effect was instantaneous. Something fuzzy and hazy wrapped around your thoughts. Even as you struggled, your body loosened, and your thrashing weakened to a soft writhe. You bit down on your own tongue till blood filled your mouth. Focused on the pain, the hurt, the agony radiating from your tongue and your jaw and your neck and your arms, and refused to let yourself get swept up in the stupor. You were not doing this, you were not letting this happen, you were not going down without a fight. If they wanted you, they’d have to fight tooth and fucking nail, you swore it to any God that was fucking watching.

“Jesse likes to go on about how this sorta thing is really more the power of suggestion than actual hypnotism. Accordin to him, hypnotism ain’t even real.” Severen said it casually, as if commenting on the color of the walls or the softness of the pillows, even as the dog-like tilt of his head revealed the predator in human skin. “Which is real funny comin from the walkin talkin livin dead. But point is, lil sweetheart’s still gonna be struggling if you don’t do it right. Get off newbie.”

Frank unlatched from your neck. You whimpered in pain, tried to pull away, but your body responded only weakly.

“What?” He sounded almost as bleary as you felt.

Severen cackled. “Don’t know how to make it feel good yet either, huh? Whoever vamp daddy is did a piss poor job at teachin you the ropes. Scoot over. Let a professional handle it.” He cupped your neck and ripped off the plaster you’d placed over his bitemark.

A bitemark on each side, you thought through the fuzz. Now you were all evened out.

Teeth pierced through your flesh for a third time that night. It hurt. It hurt. You tried to put up a struggle despite the weight of your limbs and the lightness of your head. Pleading words and cries fell from your mouth. They went unheeded. Severen sucked at your skin and lapped up your blood – yes, this was really happening, this was what they were going to do to you – and your head swam. Your shoved at him weakly, but you might as well have been shoving at a brick wall.

This was it. End of the line. A lamb to the slaughter. Bottom of the food chain.

Your thoughts and emotions tangled together, fueled by the rush of pain and adrenaline and blood loss. Something crept through your veins. A chill spreading outwards under your skin. Death. This is what it felt like to die, you were sure of it, and all you could do was wait for it to overtake you.

.....Except.

It wasn’t. It didn’t. It was something else. Something started to replace the pain and the despair, something that was warm and liquid and buzzing. It filled your senses and glowed in your chest and trickled further down, dangerously down.

It felt.... good.

Awareness flooded your senses, hyperawareness of every little detail and sensation. The light spilling from the bathroom, casting the scene in lurid suggestive shadows and slivers of amber. Severen’s teeth buried in your neck, his lips closed around your skin as if working a permanent hickey into your throat. How he cradled your head so sweetly and dragged a hand down your side. Frank’s breath on your ear and your cheek and your neck, the proximity of his lips. Both of them solid and pressed against the length of your body, immovable and caging you in and supporting your body weight as your legs buckled beneath you.

How could you have been afraid? How could you have run and cried and screamed when it felt like this? You shifted against them, searched desperately and half-mindedly for some sort of movement. You might have whimpered. Or moaned. You weren’t entirely sure.

Severen unlatched from your neck but didn’t go far. You could feel him smiling against you. “Didn’t I tell you it’d feel good? All that struggling for nothin.” You mm-hmmed as enthusiastically as you could, despite the intoxicating headiness unfolding in your body and making you dizzy.

Frank’s exhale brushed against your ear. You shuddered. “How the hell did you do that?” he murmured. Some distant part of you wondered the same.

“Ain’t rocket science.” Severen licked at the gouges of your bitemarks. Sparks of pleasure flew under your skin.

At some point you’d started squirming. You wanted that feeling, that friction from when Severen had pushed his thigh between your legs at the gas station and you’d ground against him. That felt like a lifetime ago. Like a dream. You wanted it back. You wriggled your hips and got a response from the both of them. Frank made a low choked noise in the back of his throat and one of his hands flew to your side, nails digging through the fabric of your shirt. Severen sucked in a breath and tipped his head back. His throat worked enticingly as he ground back against you. Oh fuck that felt good. You gasped and grabbed Severen’s shoulders to steady yourself. And tried desperately not to sound like a dog in heat as you writhed against them.

You were too warm, burning up. Aching and struggling to breathe. Hands slid along what parts of your body they could reach, mouths and tongues and teeth pressed against your neck.

The thought of being consumed no longer seemed so terrifying. The mental image of them tearing into you, bloodying and messing themselves with you, teeth gnashing and throats working and tongues exploring your veins and arteries and snapping them like rubber bands was so visceral, it made you clench around nothing.

Eat me alive eat me alive please God devour me.

Between one moment and the next, you’d been dragged to the bed. Frank was behind you still, holding your back to his chest. He grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, and when you rocked against the hardness pressed to your ass, you were rewarded with a stuttered groan. You couldn’t even remember why you’d been annoyed at him. He was making such delicious little noises because of you, was grinding against you with the desperation of a man who hadn’t been touched by anyone else in years. How long would it take him to cum in his jeans just from this?

Your attention was abruptly, fully drawn away when Severen dropped to his knees in front of you. Enough light bled out from the bathroom to let you see the fresh blood smeared across his face, overlapping the dried splatter from before. His eyes glinted in the dimness. He looked like a predator. He was a predator. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid, not when he was pushing your thighs apart and running his fingers up to the hem of your jeans. He thumbed the button. At this angle, the way he looked up at you through dark eyelashes was absolutely obscene.

“How bout this? He drinks you, and I eat you. Sound fair?”

Lust hit you like a physical force.

Frank dropped his head down to your shoulder and licked at the bloody bite mark he’d made. “Yeah, alright. Sounds fair.”

You had enough time to catch a flash of teeth from Severen before he was undoing your jeans and dragging them off you and taking your underwear with them. It took a tangle of limbs and wandering hands to maneuver your body, but then you were bare and exposed and you suddenly realized how wet you were. How wet you’d been the entire time they’d been manhandling you. Heat flared in your cheeks and deeper in your guts.

“Well, lookit this,” Severen purred. “All this for lil ole me?”

“You?” Frank muttered against your skin.

“Was my idea.” And then his mouth was on your exposed cunt and Frank was sinking his teeth into you and it was so much, it was too much, it was near overwhelming. Pleasure shot through you so intense it made your body jolt from the force of it. Your heart pounded in your throat where Frank’s mouth met your skin. He kept grinding against your ass as he drank. He pushed your shirt up and explored the expanse of your body, every dip and fold, teasing and testing every inch of sensitive flesh. All while Severen’s tongue lavished your clit, warm and wet and fucking relentless. He drank up your arousal like that alone would sustain him. His tongue swept tight little circles over your clit and then dipped down between your folds, back up to your clit, and he did it again and again until your thighs were shaking and you were twisting your fingers into his hair. The hot pressure of his tongue and his fingers digging into your thighs and Frank clutching you and sucking on your neck was all too intense. You shuddered and jerked and panted from the pleasure. You were burning, coiling tight, about to shake apart from it all. You had no idea what you were or weren’t saying.

Fuckfuckfuck, it needed to stop but you didn’t want it to, please don’t stop fuck oh God please –

Frank pulled his teeth from your neck to press sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your skin, smearing the blood already drenching you. His lips were slick, the prick of teeth a promise. “Fuck, you taste good,” he slurred, words barely more than a growl. He rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. It was all you could do not to cry out.

And then you did cry out as Severen’s teeth pierced your inner thigh. Fresh blood joined the slick mess between your legs. You rolled your hips forward against the fingers Severen had shoved into your cunt and the thumb he’d pressed firmly to your clit, and then you continued the motion backwards to grind against Frank’s still-clothed bulge. It hit you so perfectly you wanted to cry, and maybe you did. It was impossible to tell with the onslaught of sensation. Half-blind, you grabbed Frank by the hair and yanked him up. His protest was cut off when you slammed your lips against his and swallowed the noise. He opened to you with a broken moan. You ran your tongue along his teeth. The coppery tang of blood made your insides curl with disgust just as much as it had you riding Severen’s fingers. You pricked yourself on Frank’s teeth. Sharp pain, the taste of blood, and then he was grabbing the back of your neck and devouring you, teeth and tongue and frenzied need, kissing you like it was his salvation and your demise. It probably was. And God, you wanted nothing more.

A new hand at your neck urged you away from Frank. You turned your head. Severen was leaning up, eyes-half lidded. “Oh, you sure fuckin do. Blood and pussy taste like heaven.” He pulled you in and you kissed him too, tasted your blood and arousal and you moaned into him. Frank nipped at your neck, dragged his hips against yours. Severen’s fingers were still curled inside you.

You were going to explode. You were going to die. You were going to irreversibly shatter apart and it was going to be messy and it was going to feel so fucking good that you wouldn’t even mind.

The sound of a belt and a zipper shot through you like lightning. You were pulled up onto your knees and they both came up with you, Severen in front and Frank behind, pressed against your bloody and sweaty and spit-soaked body. Frank shifted behind you and his tip pressed against your aching cunt. Between Severen fingering you open and the fluids coating your thighs, he was able to slide in with ease. You choked on the feeling, the relief from the emptiness and the fullness of him inside you. An experimental thrust had you doubling over against Severen, which just made his thumb rub harder against your clit. The next thrust hit you even deeper.

You felt sick. Sick with desire, in pain from arousal.

You only belatedly realized you’d reached for Severen’s belt, shaking hands pawing at the clunky metal buckle. He laughed at you but helped anyway. When you curled your blood-slickened fingers around him, his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head and his jaw went slack. He thrust into your hand with barely-restrained desperation. The dual motions were uneven, jolting and frenzied, but then you slid into a rhythm and the three of you writhed in tune. Moans and huffs, cries of pleasure from you and a tear-dampened face. You jerked Severen off as he punished your clit, as Frank fucked into you, as you lost what was left of your mind. You kissed them and they switched between kissing and biting and sucking and licking you. There was so much blood. All of it yours. You couldn’t care.

You seized in pleasure when they bit you at once, teeth buried in either side of your neck, four hands playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Sobs wracked your throat from how good it was. They used your body like a doll, kept moving until their own release was spilling into your hand and filling you up. Kept moving after that, chasing every wretched bit of pleasure in your bodies until the pain had returned and you could no longer tell it apart from the pleasure.

When they finally blessed you with mercy and released you, your body fell limply to the bed. Your limbs were dead, useless, body entirely wrung out. Your head swam and muffled ringing filled your ears. Colored dots danced along the ceiling, nearly obscuring the two bloodied faces peering down at you.

“Thanks for the fun times, sugar.” The words were muffled, as if coming from underwater. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Couldn’t make yourself get up, move, do anything. Why was that bad....? You were so tired. Too hot and too cold and impossibly tired. The bed was heaven underneath you.

The faces were saying something, but you couldn’t hear them.  Didn’t want to.

You let your eyelids slide shut.

The darkness was a blessing.

[robfinancialtip]

Chris, along with his wife Lindsay and their two Australian cattle dogs, Everson and Huckleberry, share their experiences of full-time RVing across North America. Chris highlights the excitement his dogs feel when they hear the dog leash jingling, anticipating walks or hikes. The family enjoys hiking with dogs and swimming with dogs, making the most of their travels and embracing the RV life.

Introducing the Halo Collar 3, a recent addition to their routine that has greatly enhanced their outdoor adventures. Chris explains how the Halo dog collar allows their dogs to roam freely at campsites while being safely contained within a virtual fence. When it's time to hike, the Halo dog fence can be easily turned off via a mobile app, letting the dogs join them off-leash. The Halo Collar also provides a reliable recall feature, ensuring the dogs stay within range even when exploring independently. He mentions the Halo Collar Whistle feature, which aids in training and recall.

Chris provides insight into Halo Collar reviews, emphasizing the effectiveness and convenience of this GPS dog collar. This advanced gps dog fence system ensures their pets' safety during both boondocking and off grid camping.

He emphasizes the importance of their dogs in their RV lifestyle, expressing how the Halo Collar integrates seamlessly, offering peace of mind both at camp and on the trail. The video offers valuable camping with dogs tips, showcasing the joy of RV camping with dogs, whether at campsites or during more adventurous off grid camping experiences. The Halo Collar makes RVing with dogs safer and more enjoyable, aligning perfectly with their "Called to Wander" journey. The video encapsulates the essence of camping with dogs, highlighting the freedom and safety provided by the Halo Collar for dogs, enhancing the overall RV camper experience.

[differenteagletragedy]

No thoughts, just Our Life Swap AU.

A couple of days ago someone requested a swap AU in which Baxter is MC's neighbor, Cove is the friend who lives in the city and Derek is the boy who stays for the summer and I have not been the same since.

Here is the first thing I wrote about it, and here is another!

"Do you know what RV stands for?"

"Yes, Baxter."

"I believe you may think you do -- a common misunderstanding is that it stands for 'recreational vehicle.' In reality --"

"Shut it, little boy," Liz called down from the loft.

You smiled at Baxter, and he returned it. You were in an RV that your moms had rented, headed for a quick camping trip to Redwood National Park. You and your best friend were sitting on the couch in the little living area of the vehicle while your moms were up front, taking turns driving.

Baxter had been making up stories to pass the time, and it seemed that Liz had heard one too many.

"My apologies, Elizabeth," he called up to her. "I forgot you don't care for whimsy or fun anymore."

"Why are you even here?" she replied.

He had been in good spirits, chatting away, but that seemed to have brought him down. He shot a quick smile at you, then looked away.

Your parents had invited him along -- after five years of the two of you being nearly inseparable, he was often invited to family outings. Your moms always made sure to include him too because his own parents weren't the kindest people.

At first, Baxter's parents had refused. They didn't like your moms, for some reason you'd never been able to figure out. Luckily, a business trip came up for his father and they decided to give in to his relentless requests to accompany you, knowing that their only child could make things difficult if he wanted. It was easier for them not to deal with him on the trip.

Their loss, you thought.

Before he could get too lost in thought, you leaned over and nudged his shoulder. He nudged you back, a smirk reappearing.

"Don't mind Liz," you told him quietly. "You're here because you belong here."

His smirk turned into a full-on beam.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, you'd arrived to your camping spot at the park, but it was too dark to explore. But the next morning, bright and early, the five of you went out to see the sights.

Your moms led the easy hike on one of the trails, and Liz wandered behind them. You and Baxter brought up the rear.

"This is amazing," he said in genuine awe, looking up at the trees. Every once in a while, he would pull his attention away from the scenery to look at you warmly.

"Was it like this in your old town?" you asked. You knew he'd lived in Oregon before moving to Sunset Bird, and he'd talked about missing the trees.

"No, not quite," he answered. "There were forests, but nothing like this."

Before you could say anything else, Liz fell back to walk in line with you. You gave a preemptive eyeroll.

"Is this up to your standards, rich boy?" she teased.

"I'm having a very nice time," he replied. And it was true -- too nice a time to start his usual bickering with your sister.

"Good," she said. "Because once you officially join the family, this is the kind of sickening wholesomeness you're in for."

"I could think of worse fates," he told her, shooting you a glance.

You'd been nursing a crush on Baxter for a while now, and comments like that made you think sometimes that he had a crush on you, too. It was almost enough to make you say something, but your sister's teasing would really turn relentless then.

Liz hung back, teasing you for a while longer before getting bored and going back up to your moms. After a few hours, with a lunch break tossed in, the hike was over and you were back at the RV.

Your sister promptly went inside and shut the door behind her. Your moms laughed, but then Baxter approached them.

"I was wondering if it would be all right if we went on another short walk," he said, looking back at you. "Not too far, and I'll be sure we're back well before dark."

They had a moment of silent communication, then you saw your ma give a slight nod.

"All right, but not too far," Mom said. "And stay on the trail."

"Absolutely," Baxter said. He held his arm out to you, and you took it. Then you were off.

"Why did you want to come back out?" you asked, trying to sound casual even though you were buzzing with excitement. You tried to keep the hand that held onto his arm steady.

"I thought it was too nice of a day to end so quickly," he said. "I wanted more time out here. More time with you."

You blushed, and he smiled fondly at you.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you asked before you could reconsider.

"Why wouldn't I?" He seemed genuinely confused. "It's lovely here. You're a lovely person." He leaned closer to your ear and said, "My favorite person, actually."

Your cheeks grew hotter.

Baxter laughed, then said, "You're also adorable."

It was a little forward, even for him, so you decided to take the opportunity to bring up something you'd been wondering about for a while.

"Can I ask you something?" you began.

"Always."

"Why haven't you dated anyone?"

He didn't say anything right away, and you didn't have the nerve to look at him. But out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw his own cheeks turning pink.

"I was just wondering," you added, "since you sort of flirt with everybody all the time."

"Do I?" he asked with a laugh. You did give him a look then, and he said, "I don't actually, you know. Not at school."

"Really?"

"Really."

It was your turn to pause. He went to a private school while you went to the public one, but you'd just assumed he was the same way with everyone else that he was with you.

"I'm polite," he explained. "I try to be friendly. I can't help being a little bold. But I don't ... you're the only one who gets this version of me."

You were trying to figure out how to respond, but nothing came. Your thoughts were racing with this new revelation, and before you could say anything, he stopped.

"It'll be getting dark soon," he said. "Time to go."

Baxter turned around, making a show out of offering you his other arm, and you laughed as you took it. Perhaps sensing the tailspin he'd put you in, he went back to joking around for the rest of the walk back to the campsite.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a fun evening with your family around the campfire, it was time for bed. Your moms went back to the bedroom, Liz stretched out on the couch and Baxter spread out his sleeping bag on the floor while you climbed up in the loft.

You tried to go to sleep, but your thoughts were still racing over everything Baxter had said. After a while, when you heard Liz's soft snores get into a steady rhythm, you peeked over the edge of the loft to see what your friend was doing.

You knew he was a night owl, and so you weren't surprised to see him lying on his stomach, reading a book he'd brought with him in the bright moonlight that filtered in through the windows. But you didn't expect him to look up at you just as you'd started watching him.

"Go to sleep," he mouthed at you, grinning.

"You first," you mouthed back.

He gracefully pulled himself out of his sleeping bag and slinked over to the ladder to the loft. He climbed it so that he was eye level with you, and said, "Can't sleep?"

"Doesn't seem so."

"Would you like some company?"

You gave him a confused look. He smiled softly and told you, "I'll tell you a bedtime story."

Intrigued, you scooted back against the wall, making room for him. He climbed under the blankets, laid out on his side, folding his arm under his head for a pillow, and started telling his story.

It was complete nonsense, as most of his stories were. There was something about mountain lions, and Bigfoot made an appearance. But as he went on, trying his best to make you laugh, he kept inching closer to you. A few times you were bold enough to do the same, and by the end you were pressed close.

"Can you sleep now?" he asked, his face just inches from yours.

"I can try."

[cultofdixon]

Hard Exterior, Soft Interior

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • After the loss of Merle, he couldn’t lose you too. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Scars / Anxiety / Depression

Requested by: Anon

You know those hard candies with the gooey interior? Can I think of an example?…uhh…bon bons? Tootsie pops have the soft interior…then there’s the gross lollipops with gum inside.

But anyway. The general idea of hard candies with soft insides.

That’s kind of like Daryl…and when I told him that. He of course thought it was a stupid concept.

I’ll always think that tho

~

Oh, you’re wasting my time

“Hey”

You’re just, just, just wasting time

“Hey Y/N?”

Something happens and I’m head over—- Y/N quickly removes the headphones to her walkman to finally acknowledge Dale’s existence. “Hey, sorry”

“Lost in your own little world huh?” Dale laughs as does she but a bit more embarrassment infused. “I need a favor”

“Oh Uhm. Dale I hear what comes from your RV at night and I’m not—-“

“OKAY” Dale yells laughing nervously. “Not the kind of favor I’m askin’…you know the new guy that came back?”

“Lori’s husband? Yeah he seems nice”

“Oh yeah he is. Just. Uhm.”

“Dale. Just spit it out” Y/N started to get annoyed.

Wait for the sign to flick the switch of death

“Merle!”

It’s the beginning of the end

“Merle come on out!” Daryl snaps returning from his hunt to this new guy with familiar faces getting up in his.

Sweat, chilling cold, as I watch death unfold Y/N watches Daryl get up in the faces of the others in the camp while having her headphones on. To avoid hearing Daryl’s enraged yelling. Consciousness, my only friend

“You left him?! ON A GODDAMN ROOF?” Daryl snaps at the sheriff standing before him.

My fingers grip with fear

What am I doing here?

Y/N suddenly lunged forward and her headphones slipped off her ears naturally as she grabs Daryl’s arm pulling him back after he got a punch in.

“Stop”

“They left him. They fucking LEFT HIM” Daryl yells feeling the anger continue to brew inside of himself. He was about to act on it once more until Y/N brought herself right in front of him pressing her hands firmly on his chest.

“Hurting him, will do nothing for you and won’t bring him back” Y/N states not moving from her spot until he relaxed.

“Who’s that?” Rick questions his best friend as Shane turns to who he was talking about.

“Y/N”

“Sister?”

“Fuck no. If she was, I wouldn’t have a hidden interest” Shane whispers the last part. “She’s one of the only few that’s close to the redneck.”

“Well I gotta thank her, or I’d be on the floor in a pool of my own blood…already was before this hell” Rick laughs slightly before pulling Shane with him to discuss the Merle situation.

We can go dancing, we can go walking

Daryl frowns holding the walkman in hand after Y/N has given it to him to listen to some of her cassettes to calm him down.

As long as we’re together (As long as we’re together)

Listen to some music, maybe just tal—- Daryl quickly removes the headphones when Y/N approached his little campsite away from the main one. “Hey…”

“Hey so, Rick has a plan to go back and get Merle. Wanted me to come get yea to see if you’ll join them”

A sense of relief washed over him the first time when Y/N pretty much stated she will stay at the campsite while they take care of rescuing his bitchass brother.

“Hey”

Daryl brought his attention back to her eyes full of worry. “Yeah?”

“If you do this. Go back to the city? Please be safe. Okay?” Y/N’s smile temporarily returned to grace her features as he mentally took a picture of such.

As long as she’s safe…

He will be

What do I do to ignore them behind me?

Do I follow my instincts blindly?

The scream rang through the forest and startled everyone in the campsite. Y/N immediately grabbed the bat that helped her from the city before Glenn saved her and went to help her newfound family.

Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams?

And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?

The small Atlanta group returned from a failed mission and was met with sickos infesting. Daryl gripped his crossbow tightly and went in search for her.

Do I sit here and try to stand it?

Or do I try to catch them red-handed?

Y/N crushed the head of the walker that was tripped by the archer standing behind it. She sighs relieved that he’s safe and sound. While the sense of relief graced him a second time. Daryl gestures for her to remove her headphones which she did.

“You always fight better listening to music?”

“I do a lot of things better when listening to music” Y/N smiles looking at the damage taken to her bat and dropped it once she made the executive decision that it was unusable. “Guess I need a new one or something brand new”

“Yknow I could always teach yea to use one of these” Daryl smirks gesturing to his crossbow as his smirk fades slightly when she laughs a little.

“I’d love that, D”

And his smile planted itself on his face thankful this horror show was over with.

Now after said horror and coming to the decision, everyone who was alive started to pack up for the CDC and Y/N put her backpack in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck while he got his bike situated in the bed of it.

“Got a cassette ready?”

“You know me so well” Y/N smirks holding up said cassette tape before putting her bag by the feet of the seat and climbing in.

Here we go to another candle I know

All the girls, they’re playing on a jelly roll

Time to take a ride, time to take it in a midnight eye

And if you wanna go, get on below

“Y/N…yea think we’ll find Merle?”

“Probably. Just one less hand.” Y/N smiles trying to hide her laugh when stating that, even if Daryl thought it was a bit funny as well. “He’s like a roach in this world. It’s gonna probably take a nuclear bomb to get him off the planet”

“I hope he turns up soon. Yknow? He’s the only family I’ve got”

“Hey!” She playfully acted offended as she took his unoccupied hand into hers. “We’re family”

Pinking out the day

Dreaming out the crazy way

Finger on the love

Their connected hands never parted once she took a hold of it.

It’s all above

The CDC felt like a luxury…no one deserved. Especially after all the lives that were lost because someone failed to inform about this virus. Or however the hell this could’ve been avoided.

Y/N suddenly felt stressed being in this glorified bunker as she mainly observed the others enjoy themselves. She only really felt better about the overwhelming emotions coursing through her when he would look at her. Even as drunk as he was.

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

The archer offered the bottle to Y/N as she happily declined. She watches him hand the bottle over to Glenn as he took it for himself to get drunk for probably the first time in his life. Daryl then got situated right beside her turning to her reading what he could from her expression.

All she was, was tired. In that moment none of them had to fight or fear for their lives. Y/N wanted to remember this always. Being right beside him.

I came along, I wrote a song for you

And all the things you do

And it was called “Yellow”

________

The Dixons joined the campsite and did their part by hunting for the group. In return they got a group to watch their back and help with whatever may be asked. Even if they were stubborn enough to not accept the help offered.

Daryl returned from a quick hunt with a minor injury that he didn’t think much of. But after dropping off the catch, he didn’t think it would be noticed. The cut on his arm.

Then she came to their small camp set up holding her first-aid kit in one hand and her walkman in the other.

“Hey pretty lady”

Of course Merle was first to acknowledge her existence and make Daryl come out of his tent to try to prevent his brother from saying anything vulgar to who came. But hell. The pretty lady was indeed very pretty.

“Uhm. It’s Y/N…not whatever you said. Anyway” Y/N tossed the kit to Daryl as he fumbled a bit. “Thought you could use that”

“Don’t wanna stay?” Merle pouts as Daryl groans to his question before elbowing him to go away which he did with a groan.

Leaving the two alone for a moment.

“Thanks…I’ll uh. Give it back when I’m done”

“Okay. You’ll know where to find me” and that smile of hers struck him right in the heart.

________

So then I took my turn

Y/N laid comfortable in the bed made for her as she shared a room with Daryl. She laid on her side facing the archer who slept peacefully.

Oh, what a thing to have done

And it was all yellow…

In the middle of the night, Daryl woke out of anxious habit from when he was younger. He brought himself to turn toward the person he was sharing the room with to find her dangerously close to him.

Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

He quietly lays back down after sitting up slightly, gently brushing the hair back out of the way of her face. Watching her face scrunch up a bit before finally relaxing and snuggling closer without touching him.

You know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so

As the next morning came around…and most were painfully hungover, Daryl found himself still laying down beside Y/N not wanting to move from his spot. Watching her be content, safe, alive and well…he didn’t want the moment to end. Didn’t want to feel like the world would end a second time if she were to leave it.

The second she stirred awake, part of him wanted to stay…tell her something that’s been on his mind since the day he met her…but instead. Daryl brought himself to sit up and sit on the edge of the makeshift bed giving the two a bit of space.

“Good morning” She yawns out the greeting listening to him reply with the same phrase as his voice was music to her tired ears. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright. Got a bit of a headache”

“Mm. You did drink a lot” Y/N laughs softly as she grabs her backpack taking out a small bottle of pain killers and handing it to him while he grabbed his canteen shortly after.

“Yea didn’t—-“

“I wanted to” Y/N smiles warmly as she pulls the blanket gently off of her and put her important belongings back in her backpack “You think someone is making breakfast? Or literally doing anything”

“Smelled somethin’ but don’t know what” Daryl handed her back the pain killers as she tossed the bottle carelessly into the bag before pulling out her earbuds that she could use to share her tunes with.

“Wanna just…sit and listen to music for a bit then? Before the world needs us?”

Daryl couldn’t and never would say no to that. He brought himself back to her side taking one earbud as she put hers in before getting her mixtape in.

Love of mine, someday you will die

And I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white

The two instinctively laid down side by side, their hands barely touching.

Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark

Daryl’s pinky tapped Y/N’s hand a few times before hers locked with his.

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied

Illuminate the “no”s on their vacancy signs

Y/N brought herself to turn to Daryl watching him do the same as they kept their attention on the other. They slowly inched toward the other when the sudden yelling caught their attention.

If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks

Then I’ll follow you into the dark

The clock. The clock that everyone took noticed in the CDC when they first entered the giant room of computers…was a doomsday clock on its own. Once it hits zero, the power goes out and the building goes.

That’s a fiery death no one wants…unless, they are done with the horrors of what’s outside the CDC.

In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule

I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black

And I held my tongue as she told me, “Son..

Fear is the heart of love,” so I never went back

“Y/N! Come on!” Daryl yells to her frozen state as Y/N’s gaze was glued to the clock on the wall watching it slowly go down. “Y/N!” He continues to yell before running over to her and noticing the questioning look on her face. “Nah. You ain’t staying”

“Daryl…”

“No!”

“But this…just…” Y/N started to tear up at the thought that she wanted an escape like this. “Daryl I don’t…I don’t know what I want anymore”

“But I do! I know what I want” Daryl himself, the hard exterior of the tough lone wolf redneck that stood before her, cracked open. “And that’s you. You in my life” to show that soft interior.

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied…

“I can’t lose you too. I don’t want to lose you ever” Daryl admits watching her features soften as he carefully pressed his forehead against hers which lead to the tears pouring from her eyes. “I’ve lived. I understand that. But I haven’t truly appreciated the life I was given until you came into it. I need you to stay in it” he begged and no one has ever heard him beg once before.

Illuminate the “no”s on their vacancy signs…

As the group tried to get the glass to break, Daryl came running in with Y/N in his arms. The moment he came is when he saw the grenade in Rick’s hand right as he pulled the pin. He quickly crouched covering Y/N’s body with his own feeling her tighten her grasp on him as the explosion shook them both slightly.

Daryl quickly pulled back to check her features feeling her hand gently caress his cheek before he got back up carrying her out.

If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks…

The archer got her to his truck when the eruption of the CDC shook the ground they stood on as Daryl quickly knelt to the ground gripping onto Y/N for dear life as she did the same while the tears poured from her eyes.

“Please don’t ever let go of me”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll promise every day if I gotta Y/N” Daryl states pulling back once the eruption settled and Y/N was gently placed on her own footing.

Y/N straightened up with Daryl feeling his hands plant on her hips as she couldn’t help the tears from falling even faster.

“I love you”

Daryl quickly moved his hands from her hips to her face, firmly pressing his lips to hers. Finally after all this time of pining. He felt his own tears fall as he gently pulls away from her lips bringing her body close to his.

“I love you so much you have no idea”

Then I’ll follow you into the dark

[esfawkes]

A brilliant soul was lost on July 24, 2024, with the passing of Jackson Taylor ___, 31. Known to most of the world as Jack, he was Taylor to his family.

Taylor was born on April 5, 1993, in ___, AL, to Tracy and Wendy Neely as the middle of 3 children. He was preceded in death by his grandfather, Gary Lynn ___: a larger-than-life man whose memory and legacy Taylor cherished and carried with him. He is survived by the love of his life, April; his father, Tracy, and his mother, Wendy; his older brother, Nathan, and his wife, Whitney; his younger sister, Bailey; his grandmother, Wanda ___; his aunt, Monnie ___; his grandfather, James Taylor ___, and his wife, Wanda; his uncle, Chris ___; his 2 beloved dogs, Izzy and Lula, and his cat, Charlie—as well as countless other family and friends whose lives he touched.

Despite its brevity, Jack’s life overflowed with accomplishments creative, professional, and personal. He was a community leader dedicated to building others up using his own experiences in overcoming seemingly insurmountable challenges. He was gifted with great natural talent, though it was his tenacity, dedication, and determination which truly defined him. Committed to self-improvement, he embodied the spirit of getting back up after being knocked down.

Creating music was one of Taylor’s greatest joys in life; he was a marimbist, a pianist, a flautist, and a guitarist over the years, and the lyrics he wrote were raw, haunting, and cerebral. Music gave him the opportunity to experience the world beyond his hometown as part of the Music City Drum Corps in 2011. Passionate and intense, Taylor cared deeply for his family and friends. With warmth, empathy, and abundant generosity, he strove to better the lives of those around him and sought to be someone to whom others could turn for support. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was a vibrant, vivid figure with a blindingly bright future ahead of him that he forged with burning resolve and unyielding defiance.

From a young age, he was an autodidact, teaching himself whatever caught his interest to satisfy his own searing curiosity. This extraordinary self-motivation and self-discipline gave him the ability to not only recover but continuously triumph after being laid low. At the start of 2022, he was living in an RV as he took online courses in Cloud Computing at Western Governors University. By January the next year, he and his partner April had bought a beautiful house together that they spent the next year turning into a truly wonderful home.

At the time of his passing, Jack was a Cloud Services Engineer. He held many positions over the course of his career in IT, including working as a Cloud Support Technician, a Cloud Migration Lead, and a Lead Cloud Engineer. He never stopped pushing himself, and given time to realize his limitless potential, his full list of achievements would have been overwhelmingly long.

Jack will be remembered for his sense of humor, which alternated between wry and goofy, and his hugs, which were always perfect and exactly what you needed. He will be remembered for his laugh, his smile, and his refusal to be anyone or anything less than his whole self. He will be remembered for his creativity, stubbornness, and perseverance. And he will be remembered for who he was in the moments that mattered.

Above all, Taylor was unequivocally, unconditionally, and unwaveringly loved by his family, who remain immensely proud of his character, his intelligence, and his creativity, as well as his numerous achievements. Colorful and singular, there has never been and never will be another like him. One of a kind, the world is duller for his absence.

No services will be held, and in lieu of flowers, the family asks that you consider sending a donation to the National Alliance on Mental Illness at https://www.nami.org/.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out for help. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available 24/7 for free simply by calling or texting 988. Your call is confidential, and you are not alone.

This obituary was written by his loving sister, who wishes more than anything that he was here to read it.

[marshmcore]

Pondering Sniper with his Emotional Support Scout (AU)

Modern+College AU speeding bullet

Both in their early transitional age (Scout is 19, Sniper is 22), they’ve already spent a handful of years, supposedly taking the steps to build their futures, but are they where they want to be? Are they going to where they want to be? Where is it anyways?

I just had the idea for a more grounded side to their story, slice-of-life in a coming-of-age setting, with themes of existentialism. I aged them down to make it work… Under cut for info dumps about these goobers 8)

Scout took a break right after high school, working for his family business (an unsuccessful one, ran by one of his oldest brothers). This used to be a summer job, a way to get extra money as a kid, but now he’s been a full time worker for 2.5 years, familial obligations exploiting him to stay, while being undermined by his narcissistic brother. He eventually gets out of it, but has to face the hurt from being used, and also the fact that he had to grow up so quickly as a kid (especially when he has to deal with the fallout caused by his Mom’s and Spy’s affairs. He and his Mom are in good terms, it’s just his Mom isn’t a good support system atm). Left to face the real world by himself, he tries to find a way to stabilize by himself, while trying to face his trauma (trauma from a missing father figure, and being treated as the black sheep of his family) as he finds a way to be more himself and be happy. He’s optimistic and responsible when the world calls for it, otherwise he’s most likely to test this new freedom (for better or worse). Eventually Spy comes around to try to reconnect with Scout, there’s no telling how Scout will cope with it when he’s in the midst his new-found freedom.

Sniper went straight to university, never once took a break from the school work, because he thinks that’s the only way to go about in life. He took up a program and career plan that was not right for him, but struggled his way through by retaking course’s countless of times, pulling off impossible all-nighters, etc. At some point he gave up, began to drop classes every semester, and finally quit the program. However, he started working somewhere in the industry he had been studying years for. He thought this could bring him forward, but it kept digging him a deeper grave. He’s a workaholic, impulsive, but lost. At a very young age, he was a subject of a tough custody battle between his neglectful biological parents (Lar-nah and Bill-bel), and his grandparents (who are Mr and Mrs Mundee in this AU). From that, his guardians want him to be better than his parents, and in return he strived for that. However, after giving up, he feels like a failure and is currently going through a period of depression. However, with the money he earned from his job, he wonders if he should take that road-trip he used to fantasize. He told himself doing this will help him find himself, but a part of him wonders if its just him trying to run away from something. Either way, he’s got a deal for a junk RV and he wants to renovate it!

After all that, Scout and Sniper meet, their lives are in the cross roads, and their relationship is a turning point as well. It feels like the world is moving faster than they can cope with, but can they find some respite in this new relationship together? DUN DUN DUUUN

Phew this was really fun to write! I really like their dynamic, romantic or not (idc). Them being the same age range inspired me to write this, because I know myself and some friends have gone through this similar experience aswell, and I just think its fun/interesting to explore that with they have in cannon.

A lot of this projection tho lmao with a loose base derived from cannon, and some embellishments to make this AU work.