#he's not very happy with his kids for starting the apocalypse

[fic-prompts-blog]

Giving destiel fic prompts pt.4 :

Canon rewrite but John lives. Wich means he's here for the apocalypse and Castiel's introduction.

[carlsangel]

HICKEYS

carl grimes x fem!reader

(carl accidentally leaves a mark.)

tags: make out sesh!!!! slight smut.

masterlist here!

You and Carl always planned to wait for somewhere safe for you guys to properly establish your relationship. You wanted somewhere where you could be normal, to have a normal relationship. While that took quite a while, you two having met just after the prison fell, Alexandria was perfect. It was the exact kind of normal you wanted.

Being that your family had left you at the start of it all, the group was your new family. You stayed with Glenn and Maggie, you bonded a bit while on the road, especially with Maggie. You helped her feel better after losing Beth. Also while on the road, you spent a lot of time with Carl. He found you interesting, you remained the person you were after the turn. You were a normal girl.

You weren’t normal in the wrong ways, you were actually quite far from it except the apocalypse didn’t affect your personality in any way. You made it seem like dealing with walkers is just another boring part of your day. You made survival seem easy. He was practically infatuated by you. He loved how you focused primarily on what made you happy, it gave him hope.

He was always so sweet to you on the road as well, he talked to you when you were bored and stayed silent when you were tired. When you guys stopped to eat or find water, he’d drag you off into the forest where he kissed you for the first time. He’d only be affectionate towards you while you were away from the group, you guys decided that you wouldn’t have a relationship yet, you didn’t need any questions about it until it was the right time.

In your guys’ situation it seemed sort of inappropriate. Always on the run, scavenging, looking for water. You were worried no one would see your relationship out. Even then, you weren’t sure you wanted one. Being on the road was dangerous, you’d lost people before and you didn’t want to feel a huge loss.

Anyway back at Alexandria you two were ecstatic. Your activities consisted of reading at Carl’s house, swimming in the pond, or harassing people. Your favorite to harass was Tara, especially when she was on watch. “You guys are so weird, why don’t you go away and make out somewhere?” She teases. Your laughter sort of dies down as you think about that. She notices and looks at you oddly. “I was kidding…unless you guys actually have a thing for each other. I’d rather not know actually.”

So you ended up leaving her alone and going on a walk instead. No one expected the two of you to be dating, they actually felt the exact opposite. It’s not that they never wanted you to be together, it was more that you guys had protested every single time you were asked about it. But you thought that if you were together, it’d be just wrong. So you continued to keep quiet, you didn’t want any trouble.

Later that day, you two had been hanging out in Carl’s room and things slightly got carried away, maybe because Tara had eluded to it but you both had thought about it for a while. It started with the two of you just sitting on his bed, sat across from each other and leaned forward to give small and short kisses, slight smiles in between each one. It eventually led to him leaning all the way over to you, making the kisses longer and deeper. Then, he jammed his tongue in your mouth. By that point you were laid back and he was over you, running his hand up and down your side all while his tongue massaged yours in your mouth.

It got very heated, his kisses got sloppier and he sucked on your tongue quite urgently, letting small moans into your mouth that you could only reciprocate. He decided to move on and he pressed kisses to the side of your mouth and chin, along your jaw and down your neck. That was the first time he’d gotten that far along your body and he loved it. He loved kissing your neck, once he started he couldn’t stop. It was like a fresh obsession. The kisses were soft, although this hand trailed down and you could feel his fingers hook into your jeans where the button was. It’s like he was making out with your neck at this point.

You can feel his tongue and lips assault at your neck, there’s a small smile on your face, your eyes are closed and you just lay back and enjoy the feeling.

Eventually a knock at the door scared both of you into stillness, Carl’s hand quickly moving away from your jeans.The voice on the other side of the door was bright, it was Maggie who was over for dinner. Right, you were having a family dinner.

“Are you both in there?” She asked politely. You responded with a yes, she refrained from intruding so she stayed outside the room. “Dinners just about ready if y’all wanna come down in a minute.” She replied. “Yeah we’ll be down.”

He rested his forehead against your neck and sighed in frustration. He then decided he wanted to get one more in before you headed downstairs. So he pressed his lips to the center of your neck, although he started to suck at your skin, sort of harshly. At the time, he didn’t think of what marks he could leave on you, he’d completely forgotten he could even leave a mark. He simply just wanted to suck at your neck a little longer. “What’re you doing?” You ask, sort of giggling. He obviously didn’t respond but he tapped the side of your hips. After a moment he pulled back with a grin on his face, wiping the saliva off your neck with his hand.

“Was that necessary?” You inquire jokingly. He nods. “Yeah it was.” You roll your eyes at him and get up, pulling him with you. The two of you head downstairs, hand in hand and Carl helps with setting the table while you help with bringing the food over. The feeling of his lips on your neck lingered and you smiled at the thought. Eventually you were all sat and settled in. You served yourself and began to dine when Maggie cleared her throat. “Darlin?” She spoke gently, trying not to alarm you. You were chewing but you looked at her. “Hm?”

She gestured at her own neck, looking at yours and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You swallow your food and place your fork down to press your neck, feeling a bit of sensitivity where Carl had sucked at you earlier. Carl looks over at your neck, mid-chew when he spotted the red mark on your neck. Everyone was silent and all the attention was on you. She gestured to another area of her neck and you pressed it, feeling more sensitivity.

“Um…” You say lowly, full of embarrassment. Glenn out of all people chimes in. “Are those…”

“Hickeys.” Rick speaks.

Everyone’s body language made it seem like some sort of interrogation. Maybe you owed them an explanation. Apology? If only someone would say something so you would know which one to give. “I heard about this from Tara.” Michonne states. You both look at her and immediately think back to the conversation you had earlier that day. Snitch.

“How long?” Michonne questions, the two of you look at each other nervously, then back at the adults. “Since the road. After the hospital. Didn’t start dating till we got here..” You reply, somewhat ashamed considering the events that happened at the hospital and the devastation that followed, meanwhile the two of you were distracted by each other. “You’ve kept it from us this whole time?”

“Given the circumstances there was never really a right time…we’re really sorry-”

Rick cuts you off. “Sorry? What’re you apologizin’ for? We already sorta knew.” He smiles a bit and your’s and Carl’s expressions are quite puzzled. “Well, we weren’t sure but…we had an inkling.”

You both just sat there unsure of how to continue the conversation. “So you knew and didn’t say anything?” Carl retorts, frustrated he’d put in so much effort to be sneaky.

“It’s not like it wasn’t obvious.”

a/n: hihiiii i hope ur all well, if you didn’t see my msg this is the last fic i’ll post before i get out my last match up! (prob tmr)

from there, i’ll be writing and posting a short series called ghost in the woods, that’s a fem!reader and i like the idea, i have the plot points all written out but idk how long that’ll take, ill be getting requests out as well throughout that!

anyway ily bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Hey heeey! Today is my birthday (happy 25 to me!) and I was wondering if you could write something about Joel x reader (established relationship) where they're living in Jackson and Ellie insists on them celebrating reader's birthday. Reader puts a little bit a make up on (mascara and lipstick and whatever they can manage in the freaking apocalypse) and Joel is absolutely stunned by her? Very soft and sweet fluff (it can be smutty if you want too). Thanksss

First of all, happy birthday! I hope you had a wonderful day and spoiled yourself. If not, you should definitely do it. Second of all, of course I can fulfill your request. I will do it with pleasure. I hope you like it. ❤️

birthday l Joel Miller

Warnings:  fluff, kissing, a pinch of smut, Ellie is in it, some tears

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

When Ellie ran into the stables Joel was sure that something bad had happened and for a moment his heart stopped. Her cheeks were red and she couldn't catch her breath, holding her aching side.

"What happened?" he asked with obvious fear in his voice.

Your name slipped from her lips and Joel felt as if someone had cut off his power for a second. Eventually Ellie straightened up and looked at him with a mixture of amusement and excitement.

"I was with Dina and the others and... I heard her talking to Maria. You know, about her kid having a birthday soon and-" Ellie frowned "Did you know that she has a birthday too?"

Joel breathed a sigh of relief and for a moment he wanted to throw a sarcastic remark at the girl, but in the end he said. "Everyone has a birthday, Ellie."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Dude, but hers is in two days! Did you even know about this? Do you know anything about her?"

Of course he did! 

He knew what kind of coffee you liked, that you didn't like light rain but the more intense kind, that you liked dancing especially with him, and that fresh bread put a smile on your face. These weren't the times to ask about your favorite color or band or movie. The whole bullshit of dating. You guys weren't even dating, you were just together and...

Ellie stared at Joel with pity. "You didn't know." She sighed. "Oh, dude. I don't know why she's with you. You're a terrible boyfriend."

"Listen-" Joel mumbled, raising a finger as if to warn her, but she didn't care at all.

"You have to do something! Surprise her, show her that you care about her. Haven't you ever gone on a date?"

He used to go out. In his previous life. And years later he went to dinner with you at the Russo's once. Was that a date? But when he wanted to think about it Ellie grabbed his arm. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Do something, Joel! Listen, I'll make sure she shows up where she needs to be, so she doesn't suspect anything, but you should do something for her. I want her to feel important, to have something of her own."

Joel nodded, the kid was right. Something could be organized. Shit, he wanted to give you anything! You deserved the best. And so he and Ellie started working together.

It was a strange feeling. Strange because you couldn't remember the last time you wore something nice and when you just felt pretty. Sure, Joel would sometimes whisper to you "my pretty girl", but that didn't count. Now you really felt like it.

"Is something wrong?" Ellie entered the room and watched you closely, "You seem worried."

You smiled, but it wasn't a real smile. More like the 'I'm sad but don't worry' kind. "I can't remember the last time I wore something like this." You said, stroking the material of a simple dress Ellie had found in a clothing store, "Or when I had any makeup on."

"You definitely look better than the girls in those old magazines I saw." The girl came over and wrapped her arms around your waist, "And you smell nice, and your face is different too." you were wearing some blush, lipstick and mascara that Ellie had also given you. Nostalgia hit you hard. "I can't wait for Joel to see you like this."

"No!" you protested. "He shouldn't see me like this, it's...embarrassing. I shouldn't waste my time on such stupid things and..."

"Has he ever told you that what you're doing is stupid? That guy fell head over heels for you a long time ago. Pathetic case."

Now you smiled for real. Ellie was right. It didn't matter if you decided to grow herbs behind your house, or rearranged the furniture to make it work better for you, or anything else - Joel never said it was a waste of time or was stupid. Even when he kicked a chair when he went down to the kitchen at night, it wasn't there before, or when, without your knowledge, he prepared wooden signs for you to write the names of herbs on and stick them in the ground.

"Come on!" Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

"Where? Ellie! I have to change!" you protested.

But she was already pulling you towards the door. "It's perfect! Come on and don't ask questions, woman!"

You were a little embarrassed as you walked together down one of Jackson's streets. It was already dusk, but every now and then you passed other residents, and a few of them surely noticed that you looked different.

Ellie led you straight to the door of the Russo's restaurant, which Joel had once helped renovate the kitchen. She opened the door and pushed you inside, mumbling quietly, "Happy birthday."

It was rather dark inside, but you saw a dim light somewhere further away and slowly walked in that direction. It was only when you stood in the doorway to the next room, a smaller dining room, that you understood why Ellie insisted that you wear all that today.

One of the tables was set and decorated with a few candles. A bottle of wine, silver lids hiding the delicious dishes Mrs. Russo had prepared, and him. Joel.

He looked different somehow. He was wearing a decent shirt and combed his hair, you felt the warmth creep into your cleavage and neck. He smiled at you as he came closer.

"You look... Fuck." he said, shaking his head.

"Bad?" you worried.

"Stunning." he replied, his hands resting on your hips and he pulled you closer. You wanted to kiss him, but he stopped you. "Wait. I want to remember you like this."

You were grateful that the dim light didn't let him see the effect his words had on you. Joel grabbed your chin lightly, dark eyes moved over your face, he noticed your lipstick, he smelled your perfume. The material of the dress was delicate under his fingers, and it beautifully emphasized your figure. It was the first time he had seen you like this and he was delighted.

"I wouldn't want to ruin your lipstick." he mumbled, smiling mischievously as he brought his lips closer to yours.

"You could ruin me all over." you replied, wishing he would kiss you.

And he did. At first gently, slowly. As if he was testing how much he could allow himself, which was really sweet. But when you parted your lips slightly, his other side won. He sank into you, his tongue wandering in your mouth, dominating yours, which you allowed him to do. You clung tighter to his solid body, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. You moaned quietly as his hand squeezed your ass tightly.

"Sorry, I had to do it." Joel chuckled, "Your ass looks so fucking good in that dress."

"Smartass." You tapped him on the shoulder. "Ellie knew what she was doing when she told me to put it on."

"She loves you. Just like I do." He replied and leaned down, stealing another kiss from you. "Happy birthday, honey."

It wasn't until a moment later that you sat down at the table where a delicious dinner was waiting for you. For a while, you were locked in your own bubble. There was no room for the end of the world, infected, enemies and guns. Just you and Joel. What you could have had if fate allowed you and what you had in return.

"You make me feel special. I haven't felt that in a long time." You said as he tenderly kissed the back of your hand over a glass of wine.

"I have something else for you." He put a small box in front of you and you saw uncertainty in his eyes.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to give you something. I didn't want it to be something practical or... You know. I understand if you don't like it. I found it a while ago and I thought of you." he scratched the back of his neck, letting out a breath.

You took the box in your hand and opened it. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, and attached to it was a small pendant resembling a star in shape. For a moment you lost your breath, and tears welled up in your eyes.

Joel's voice barely reached you. "I wanted you to have something nice, something that would remind you of me and Ellie. That star... That's stupid..." he shook his head.

"Say it, Joel. I want to know." you whispered, raising your eyes to him.

"I thought that when I met you... I'm not good at this." you reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. "When I met you, you became like a North Star to me. You gave me direction, you were always there and I could always count on you. Even when the clouds cover you, I know you're there... Shit, baby, are you okay?" 

Tears started to flow down your cheeks, you couldn't control it. You stood up quickly and before Joel could say anything you grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him hard. A kiss that tasted like wine and tears, but happy tears. He pulled you onto his lap without breaking the kiss, taking in the moment with all of himself.

"I love you so much." You whispered, pressing your forehead to his. "You have no idea."

"I think-”

You didn't let him finish, kissing him again.

You didn't remember how you returned to an empty house. Ellie had decided to spend the night at Dina's so you have the house all to yourself. And it was a good thing she did, because as soon as the door closed behind you, Joel's hands were already on you. 

You got to the bedroom, tripping over your own feet, laughing and teasing, but when you fell onto the bed and Joel disappeared between your thighs, saying "Time for dessert." the whole world stopped again. You came twice on his tongue and fingers before you convinced him to stand up and help you take off your dress.

"She's staying with us." Joel ordered as he threw it on the floor and you hastily unbuttoned his shirt. "I have some ideas for her."

And as you both collapsed exhausted onto the pillows, your bodies covered in sweat, your breathing quickening and your hearts beating fast - you realized you couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. With this guy, with this family you had - it was perfect.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[menofprogress]

I saw someone say that Viktor constantly reaching out to Jayce and trying to get him on his side after he initially left him and after Jayce fought, rejected and shot at him makes no sense but i disagree.

Imho jayce and viktor are incredibly, INSANELY codependent, they were each others closest contact for nearly a decade, saw each other every day, single mindedly worked towards the same goal, etc. Their lives immediately take a nosedive once theyre even slightly separated from each other (viktor nearly dies, jayce kills a kid, viktor atomises sky and then nearly kills himself, jayce lands in apocalypse land and viktor starts a cult). They instinctively always act like theyre still partners, even when theyre clearly supposed to be enemies because not being together feels unnatural to them.

Jayce doesnt act consciously when reviving viktor using the hexcore and YES viktor is hurt and distressed bc he was essentially turned into rio and he feels like he needs to leave, but then what? He probably finds out about jayces disappearance a few days later and is like "oh no, oh fuck, i know I left HIM, but i didnt want this" i mean he probably thought jayce was dead.

So for a few months he builds his commune and deliberately integrates sentimental things about his and jayces partnership (his 'home' looks like the hexgates, hes still wearing the blanket, for some reason theres a forge in the commune) which, imho, shows hes mourning and missing jayce in his own way. (A special personal hc of mine is that he grew out his hair out of grief). And in the pit we have jayce sobbing and crying bc he misses both mel and viktor so much.

So jayce reappears and viktors like "heeeyyyy bestie, oh my god, i missed u come visit me!!!" And jayce is rightfully confused like "didnt YOU break up with ME?" and viktor is like "nooo, hahaha, i was crazy back then, just forget about it, pls visit me?" And is only mildly concerned by jayce killing one of his followers (and then hes also mostly concerned about jayce, not salo lol)

Then jayce arrives and shoots him and its very painful bc viktor fully didnt expect jayce to hurt him! Hes so shocked 😭

Anyways after that Viktor "attacks" (more like "does a mating dance for") jayce in the council room and AGAIN asks him to join his emo band and is AGAIN shocked and hurt when jayce genuinely fights back and rejects him. Viktor is temporarily hurt and gives singed the ok to start the process.

And then as the fully transformed herald he STILL talks about how happy he is to see jayce and doesnt really put any effort into neutralising him. Like he could have just shot him hbxhnxgkhfj

All the while we have jayce talking big talk about stopping viktor, but when it comes down to it?? He doesnt manage to take him out and still talks to him. And then he sees Viktor in the astral realm and once there is a SLIVER of hope hes immediately like "oh thank god i can stop trying to kill him, this was never going to work"

All of this isnt contradictory to me. It means that both of them actually know that they should be on opposing sides now, they start acting according to the idea that the other one is now an enemy, they make plans accordingly, but when it comes down to it theyre reluctant to actually follow through bc that would mean a life without the other and thats worse than staying enemies forever.

Viktor kept reaching out, hoping to be partners again after MULTIPLE rejections and jayce couldnt bear to kill viktor or to let him die alone. Being apart from each other is quite literally the worst thing for either of them, so the instinct to reach out to each other will always take over.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Make you happy." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

Daryl reminisces about the day you two got married, when you found out you were pregnant, and when Marley was born.

A/N: If you want to read another story about dad!daryl you can check out: "My everything" "A whole new world" "For life". Hope you like this. Sorry if it's a little bit long :c But thank you!

For the first time in his life, Daryl could feel his hands shaking, but he had never felt so alive.

Daryl Dixon had always considered himself a lonely person.

It was like that since he was a child and had to survive the adversities of life, instead of living his childhood and adolescence like any other kid. Daryl had fought his way through life, literally, getting into so many fights that it was normal for his mother to see him come home with bruises while he was growing up, although nothing compared to the beatings his father used to give him while his mother watched as a silent spectator, doing nothing to protect her own child, until finally one day, the supposed paternal figures left his life for good.

He was alone, yes, but Daryl could feel he could finally rest, taking a moment to breathe without his body aching from the remnants his father's fists left on his body.

By the time Daryl grew up, he had convinced himself that he would be better off alone, that his past was too dark to ever truly be seen by anyone, or any woman in particular. For that same reason, he believed, in an almost sacred way, that the very idea of getting married or ​​having children one day was a crazy one, if not fatal given his temper, which was like a volcano, too dangerous to play near.

But the moment he met you, he never felt alone again: he knew you were the peace, the silent, the color the world lost even before the apocalypse. And in that instant, when your hand held his, his body recognized your warm, and his trembling heart finally calmed down.

Father Gabriel kept talking, making the wedding official, and Daryl took the opportunity to look to his right side. There you were, as beautiful as always: your hair was loose, and the left side was behind your ear. You were wearing a white dress and it was a simple one, with long sleeves and a skirt that fell a little below your thighs, but it was as overwhelming as the memory of you and the life before the end of the world.

Now, he was completely happy, as never before.

When father Gabriel asked to say your vows, you two turned towards each other, sharing an amused expression.

“Do we have to?” You said, with a worried but playful tone that made Daryl smile.

“Yes.” Maggie answered next to you, giving you a serious look as she gave you the ring.

“Better say somethin’ that makes me cry, peach.” Daryl chuckled, but he was so nervous that his hand continued to hold on to yours.

“And I wanted to start saying you are hot as hell... but that feels wrong in God’s house.” You chuckled, making the few presents laugh: your future husband, the family you made in the apocalypse, and even Gabriel. But in the next second, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your anxious heart. “There is so much in yourself I would like you to be able to see, Daryl. Like the way you protect our people, even if that puts you in danger. You don’t talk much, but your silence says it all, and it's comforting. When I met you, I realized that I had always lived in a house, but it never felt like a home until you and I started our own. And yes, you do have some anger issues, but I find that strangely attractive…” You teased him, earning you a scoff from him. “But I wouldn’t change this for anything, ever. And I promise you couldn’t make me any happier than I am now. I’m happy just because you’re with me, because while you’re here, I don’t need anything else.”

You slipped the ring on his finger, smiling so cutely that Daryl had to stop himself from pulling you towards him. But when Father Gabriel asked him to answer and while Rick gave him the ring, Daryl couldn't help but feel so shy.

“Fuck… shit, sorry, father…” Daryl looked at Gabriel, who smiled to say silently that it was okay. And when he looked back at you, a new wave of feelings washed over him when he realized he was your husband. “Peach, ya know I ain’t good with words, so I guess I'll just tell ya what I thought when I met ya...” He looked at you so deeply, that for a second, you felt like you could swim in the depths of his blue eyes. “In ma world full of chaos, ya’re the silence, peach: ya were, and ya always will be.”

Then, Daryl put the ring in your finger, pulling you towards him before father Gabriel could say he could kiss the bride. You smiled softly against his lips, one hand caressing his cheek as he kept you in his arms, the place where he knew you belonged.

There was a time when Daryl thought his heart couldn’t keep beating, but it was you who made it beat again. There was a time when he thought he was giving his last breath, but you made him breathe again. Over a year and a half and even living in that new world, what a wonderful life you two lived. Alexandria gave you a house, but you two turned it into a real home. Daryl never knew how to be the man who gave flowers or chocolates: but it was sweet how he always came back from the runs with a book, some old cassettes, even a few movies he found in a store.

However, when Daryl brought in a pink stuffed octopus, claiming it was too cute to leave behind, perhaps that should have given you a clue as to what would happen shortly after.

You two never really talked about the idea of ​​having children, not in that world or the previous one actually, but one evening when the wind began to bring the first whispers of spring, you found yourself at a crossroad.

PREGNANT.

For you, the world was suddenly spinning out of control and it felt unstable, as if it was going to split open and swallow you alive. And it was then that the lust of weeks ago turned into guilt inside you, hitting you with a hard force right in the place where a life was beginning to grow.

Your body was the home of a future person, to an embryo that was the result of some nights of alcohol and fun sex, because even when you two had always been careful, let's be honest: sometimes alcohol was a good conduit for fun and unexpected results. But as you held that pregnancy test in your shaking hands, hundreds, thousands of ideas came to your mind, a projection of the future that awaited a baby in that apocalyptic world.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hands clasped in prayer for mercy, guidance, or divine intervention, you thought it was funny how one screaming mind could silence the entire world around you. It took two people to make a baby, but, would the roots of Daryl's love be deep enough to handle the change in the future? And most of all, would it be the right thing to do to bring a baby into the world under those circumstances?

“Peach, ya okay?”

His deep voice pulled you out of your trance, but the surprise made you drop the test as you turned around.

“Fuck…” You whispered as you rushed to pick it up, but Daryl was closer than you thought, and yours and his hand brushed together as he was the one who picked the pregnancy test up.

He looked at it for a seconds that seemed longer than that first night when the end of the world began.

“I don’–” Daryl raised his head, his long hair covering part of his eyes, his brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression. “Don’ know what this means. Never seen one in real life.”

Your mouth was dry, and the words you still didn’t say aloud were like fire on gunpowder about to explode, or at least that was how dangerous the situation felt, but, armed with nothing but the truth, you ventured to say it.

“It means positive.” You answered softly, your heart beating faster.

Daryl’s mind ran as fast as possible, registering your words, processing who he was and who he will be: a future father?

“Are we…” Daryl finally said, but he had to clear his throat first. “Happy ‘bout it?”

He looked confused, not angry.

“I don’t know. Are we?”

Then, he did the last thing you thought he would do: Daryl started smiling, just a little bit.

“Yeah, I mean, I'm fuckin’ scared, but…” He paused, looking at you with a worried expression, and his voice became even lower. “But if ya don’ want to have her I would get that, ‘cause for yer face ya ain’t lookin’ so sure ‘bout it.”

In that moment your face relaxed, too immersed in fear to notice that you were holding an unpromising expression.

“No, sorry, it’s not that. It’s just that…” You chuckled, a nervous little laugh. “I’m fucking scared, too.”

His smile faltered, but it was still encouraging in those moments of turbulent thoughts for you. Then, he extended his hand towards you.

“Come, let’s sit on the bed.”

You took his hand, and it was so warm that it seemed it could reach every part of your heart, filling it a little bit with hope while fighting fear. Daryl took you towards the bed on the middle of the bedroom, to help you sit down on the edge, one leg under you, with him still close to you. He let go of your hand for a moment, only to hold the evidence that seemed to be weighed down with the possibility of having a baby, for real.

“Can you please say something?” You said. “Because I don’t know what to say.”

Daryl chuckled, looking back at you, and somehow, he was looking at you the way he always did. Like the first time you two met, the time you got together, when he proposed to you, always with so much love despite his constant fear of not being enough for you.

“Ya know all ‘bout ma childhood, peach, ‘bout ma mom, dad, ma asshole brother. Didn’t have love, like, not a lil’ shit about it, until ya came along. Everythin’ was better since I met ya n’ hell, I pictured us havin’ a kid a few times. A lil’ girl or a lil’ boy walkin’ around the home, gettin’ all excited to see me like I was a real father, nothin’ like the asshole one I had.”

You chuckled, even if you knew well how bad and sad his story was.

“Are you gonna teach it to swear too?”

“Fuck no.” He answered instantly, and when he cursed under his breath again for his mistake, it made you laugh a little more. “Listen, peach, I know exactly where we are right now. This life is jus’ fucked up, but… only if ya wanna do this ‘cause I ain’t pressurin’ ya to do somethin’ ya don’ want to, ya got to know I wanna do this with ya.”

Daryl said it so sweetly that you felt like your heart was about to burst. You knew he was also very scared, but when you looked at him, you could see clearly how serious he was too.

“You said she.”

He blinked, confused.

“What?”

“You said: if you don’t want to have her.”

“Oh, that?” Daryl chuckled, kind of relieved. “Every time I pictured us with a kid, always thought ‘bout havin’ a girl first. I had a big brother n’ that bastard was the worst brother ever.”

You laughed softly.

“I met him so I can say that was kind of true. But I know he loved you, in his own special way…”

“Yeah, guess he did after all.” Daryl said, in a soft but deep voice, and his hand caught yours. “Ya have to tell me if this is what ya want, peach…” His next words trembled, and you could hear his fear. “But If ya want to get an abortion we can talk to Denisse. S’yer body and yer decision.”

You looked to the open window for a moment, and for Daryl, the wait was almost defeating, and so suffocating. For him, escaping was not an option, but he wanted to give you the freedom to choose, to think about what was best for you too, but when you looked back at him, Daryl could see a sparkle of hope between the shadows of fear.

“Can you at least promise me that you won't be leaving on supply runs so often from now on? Because if this child gets your personality, he or she won't be easy to take care of, you know?”

And there it was, the way you teased him, but at the same time, telling him that you and him were going to be parents. Then, Daryl smiled, thinking that he never imagined that he could be even happier than he already was.

He hugged you tightly, trying to banish all fear in your body, even when he had some fears too. And it was kind of overwhelming, as if suddenly the baby was his whole world and his reason for living, but because that was a beautiful thought, you hugged him back.

From there, his life was even better. The promise of being a father scared him to death, but it was so liberating too that he silently counted the days and weeks until he could meet his baby. Daryl knew he could never be like his own father; he knew he could give his child all the love he never got. Over the next months, he kept his promise and stopped going on all the supply runs: but when he did, Daryl always came back with some toy or a piece of clothes, even with a book about parenting that he started reading in a sacred way. He wanted to be as ready as possible, to learn how to hold a baby, how to change a diaper and more.

The night of his last run and when Daryl reached the gates, Maggie was there to meet him.

As he got off the bike, he just knew.

“But we still had a few weeks ahead.” Daryl said, even when he knew anything was possible.

However, the moment he walked into the bedroom, nothing could prepare him for that. The doctor and Carol were there, next to you as you were lying sideways on the bed, almost in a fetal position, eyes tightly closed, holding yourself against the sheet, too immersed in the pain to notice he was there.

“Peach, hey, I’m here…” Daryl knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. There, you opened your eyes, but you looked so scared like never before. “I’m here, okay? I’m here with ya.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this…” You said breathlessly closing your eyes, eyebrows furrowed in an expression of pain as a new contraction pressed against your belly.

But you and him knew well you couldn’t turn back now.

“Ya can do this, sweetheart, jus’ hold on a lil’ more, okay?” Daryl kissed your hand before getting up again, helping you to sit when the doctor said it was time to push.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting behind you to hold your body against his, to let you know that he was there with you. And the entire time it took you to give birth, he did nothing but encourage you, assuring you that you were doing an incredible job, that you were strong, that you just had to hold on a little longer because soon you were going to hold your baby.

But when Daryl heard the baby crying for the first time, that was the most beautiful sound he ever heard.

Neither of you knew if the baby was going to be a girl or a boy, but when Carol said it was girl, making Daryl's wish come true, it felt like the world got back its color. Like breathing for the first time, like waking up from the sweetest dream, everything just made sense.

The doctor wrapped her in a blanket, laying her on your chest. But the moment she felt your touch, the baby looked into your eyes and it was as if she could see deep into your soul, to see all the love you had for her, giving you a new feeling of peace.

And in that moment, she stopped crying.

“She has your eyes.” You said softly, exhausted and in pain, but happy in a new way.

Daryl was smiling since he heard her, but seeing her there, so little and healthy and even more beautiful than in the dreams he had about her, it was like taking the first step into a whole new world, one that promised nothing but happiness. His hand caressed her cheek, feeling a tickle on the tips of his fingers at the contact of his daughter's soft skin.

His daughter, his princess, his little angel.

“She’s so lil’.” Daryl said softly, afraid that if he talked louder she would be scared.

“Ya can hold her. Do you want to?” You asked in a small voice, thinking that he would be the one who would end up scared.

Daryl pulled away from you slightly to sit on the edge of the bed, taking the little life he helped create into his arms. For a single second, he feared that he might hurt her, a small thought in his frightened head, but when she locked her eyes with her daddy, Daryl knew well he would always make his daughter happy.

“Did you choose a name?” Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled, looking at you.

“Remember when Merle joked ‘bout namin’ our child after him?”

“Yeah. You told him to fuck off.” You chuckled, too. But you could see clearly the idea in his eyes, asking you the permission first. “Marley is a good name; don’t you think? Marley Rose Dixon. I think it sounds sweet, and your last name will make her look intimidating too after the people meet her daddy.”

"That's what we need. Another Dixon." Carol chuckled.

But the idea was more than a delight for him. And right there, Daryl promised Marley he would always make her smile, he would always make her happy, showing her nothing but love.

And he kept his word.

Now, they are lying on the bed, his head on the pillow and with her in his arms as he caresses her back, one arm under her head. As the night falls in Alexandria and Daryl finishes telling his daughter that story (omitting some thoughts, words and curses) Marley is still awake.

“Are ya sleepy now, angel?” Daryl asks softly, looking into her eyes, but when she shakes her head, giggling, he sighs. “How ‘bout ya lay back and daddy rubs yer back? Ya loved that when ya were a baby.”

“Really, daddy?”

“Yeah, ya spent most of yer day on daddy’s chest.” Daryl nudges his nose against his daughter's, earning another laugh. “It was much better than sleepin’ with mommy.”

“Hey…” You complain, entering the room. Marley chuckles, sticking her body even closer to her daddy. “I don’t like you, any of you.”

Daryl chuckles.

“Told ya she was a Dixon.”

You sigh dramatically, joking, laying on your side of the bed.

“Nine months in my belly but she loves daddy more.”

Marley giggles, but before you can say anything, she pulls away from her daddy, turning until she is next to you.

“I love ya too, mommy.”

“I know, baby...” You hold her in your arms, kissing her head as you hear her accent. “Mommy loves you too, my love.”

She looks at you, her blue eyes as deep as her father.

“And daddy too?”

“Well…” You tease him, earning a scoff from your husband. “Yeah. I love daddy too.”

“But s’time to sleep, angel.” Daryl says softly when he knows the late night has begun, one hand rubbing her back. “Close yer eyes, okay?”

“Okay, daddy…” Marley does it, snuggling into your chest. “I love ya both.”

@fluffy-dixon

[bumpkinbayouthief]

🂱 › dating Remy LeBeau .

what is it like, dating the devilish cajun?

pairing : remy x reader warnings : tiny illuding to nsfw a/n : this is my first time writing this boy outside of rp context! decided to go more of the headcanons route, it is for the most part SFW. I also tried my best to keep it gn!reader as much as possible I plan to do a sfw & nsfw abc's to expand even more on what it is like dating the Ragin Cajun

first off, Remy is quite the romantic, however, he also has an impulsive streak so when he asked you out, it’s safe to say it was pretty unplanned on his end

he asked you out in the mansion kitchen, slipping a playing card with the question into the pockets of your sweatpants while you stood making coffee.

and he had the biggest devilish grin on his face when you found him later that day and gave him the card back, writing a yes on the card

on top of being a romantic, Remy loves to cook so say goodbye to ever having to cook for yourself, unless you like cooking then he is happy to share the kitchen with you and make dinner with you

you also have to now get used to sharing a space with three cats. After all you did start dating a proud cat dad.

he’s extra protective on missions, even though he knows you can hold your own he’s always keeping an extra close eye on you while out in the field.

total doberman boyfriend material, all the traits of a golden retriever with the added “will fuck someone up if the need arises” energy

you guys go out together and his head is on a constant swivel while he holds your hand

Remy is also really good at handling panic and anxiety attacks. if you struggle with mental health he is always there to support and help you through it

he will also go out of his way to learn everything he can about the conditions you live with. you deal with OCD, guess who is spending hours reading up on it and talking to doctors about how he can help

he also will naturally want to move a lot faster with the relationship. he’s got a very all or nothing mindset to life however, he will easily adapt to your pace for the relationship, respecting and talking about boundaries. he may act like a little kid but he is pretty good with communication

except his past. he’s gonna take some time to open up about his time prior to joining the x-men. he’ll share everything about New Orleans with you but his childhood? oh that’s gonna take a while.

Remy also deals with nightmares, most of them revolve around his time under Apocalypse’s control as the horseman Death. Some are about his time with Sinister.

he’ll try his best to not wake you up whenever he has one, slipping out of bed quietly and walking around the house.

when you do notice or wake up to one, he won’t be too keen to tell you about the dream but he will accept the comfort. he’ll lay his head on your chest and let you soothe him back to sleep

and the same goes for you if you ever have a nightmare.

Remy's strongest love language is definitely physical touch, this boy cannot keep his hands to himself, whether it's holding your hand while walking together or having his hand on your thigh, inching up further and further, you are going to have a clingy boy on your hands

overall, you have a partner who will adore you like a devotee with his deity and will support you and protect you till his dying breath

love , elizabeth

[ divider credit : @strangergraphics | banner image from A+X 006 ]

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?  Set in the commonwealth, straying a little from TWD timeline, but hey that the fun thing about fanfics right?

Daryl X Y/N. Words ~ 2449. Warnings ~ None (Photo found on Pinterest) Also I am trying to update I fell hard, you'll fall harder but it wont let me post it :(

The Entries Chapter 1

Daryl wasn't a man who just picked up a book to read it, not these days at least, if he found books for the kids then he would grab it and give it to them, he tries to recall the last time he actually read a book, but while he was looking for supplies, Daryl found a diary, the front looking worse for wear and covered in pink glittery stickers, something that reminded him of Princess and her style, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him and so and he opened it and read the first page. It read.

Entry one~

"This may very well be the last chance that I have to write, my family told me I should be a writer, I guess this is my last chance to ever get a book out there, but if anyone ever reads it, I hope you find comfort within the pages of this journal. My name is Y/N and this is the story about how I survived the apocalypse, or didn't I might be gone by now, in that case if would be a memoir right?"

Daryl shuts the book, placing it in his bag, he goes around gathering what supplies he can find before finally placing his bag on his back, starting up his bike and speeding back to the Commonwealth. Today was a good day for the supply run, he was able to find some medication for the community, canned food and some clothing for the small kids. That night as he lay in bed, he digs into his bag finding the journal, he starts reading it again.  

Entry two~

"I was born in 1989, 21 when the dead started attacking us, currently 26-27 years old although I have no idea if that is even right, I am just guessing the days and months at this point in this world, and I don't know how much time it has been if someone is reading this anyway back to my life story. My mother and father married at a young age, or at least young for them, they had just turned 20, been high school sweethearts, the whole Prom king and queen story line expect this was real life. It didn't take them long to start a family. My brother aka the eldest was born when my mother was 22, then another 2 years later came my other brother, the annoying middle child and then myself with a nice 5-year gap between myself and my second eldest brother."

Daryl flips the page to a collage of photos, ripped or cut to fit onto the pages. In the middle was one clearly done by a professional photographer, you are all sitting on the ground, smiling while looking at the lens, each person has their name on the photo, he looks at you in the photo. front and center, sighing at how happy you looked. Then in the corner is a photo of your parents on their wedding day, followed by photos of each child not long after they were born

"The day the world fell, I can't even remember the date, I was meant to be going to work, but my mother called me and begged for me to stay home, she begged for all of us to stay in our home, she told us all about the videos of people being shot down and them coming back and attacking people, I heard the terror in her voice, my brothers thought she was worrying for no reason, so they left for work. I tried to stop them, but they just wouldn't listen. I watched them walk out that door, hop in their cars and drive away, fearful that they wouldn't come back. I rang my friends, we chatted for a while, scared. We had planned on hanging at mine in the coming days, thinking this was just a temporary thing and that it would be fine within a week. How naive I was thinking the police and the government were going to be protect us.  I was very wrong. I watched as some of my neighbors left, cars packed up, houses left unlocked, pets left to fend for themselves. The street felt quiet, usually the kids would be playing in their lawns, coming home from school talking to their friends, or riding their bikes, now those things were left discarded. I watched the news, it only made my paranoia worse, watching them shoot down what I thought were innocent people at the time, the screams I could hear outside my door had me on high alert. My father never came home that night. He was away on business, he was meant to be coming home that day, I can only assume he is now dead. When my mother came home, she rushed us to get all the supplies and weapons we had, mostly kitchen knives, loaded them into the car, we waited for my father, constantly calling his cell phone and workmates but no-one answered, the longer we waited, the worse it got. During the night, I heard screams from down the street, saw neighbors running for their lives getting attacked, the screams as their friends chewed into their flesh, and then coming back. That night my family and I hid upstairs in one room, no lights, no noises nothing just praying we would make it through. 

Sunrise came and with it did us leaving our family home, the concrete covered in blood splatters, the groans of the dead coming out of the yards towards us, as I hopped into the car I gave the house one last look the one that I was born and raised in. In that moment the life I had known was gone. I have no idea if my friends were alive and if they are I hope they are well. That night, we tried sleeping in our car, taking turns at driving out of the city and further in land, my mother says we would be safe, away from the ones who can kill us. I doubted it though. We could see the cities being bombed from our car, the flame lighting up the horizon."

Daryl flips the page. His fingers glide over the page of photos once more, he notices that is your style, you write and then you put photos. He likes it, he likes that you are a real person, that had a real life, real friends.  Entry three~ "We drove for what feels like days, we pass the undead, we even ignore the hitchhikers, we can't risk taking on the wrong people my brother says. I've seen children biters, that is what we have come to call them, it breaks my heart. I had always wanted to be a mother but now I don't see kids in my life, not if my life is constantly running from the undead or living in fear."

Daryl keeps reading, finding himself more intrigued with each line. Another page, another photo of you and your friends, of you and a dog, he can assume might be a pet of yours once. You started drawing things you have seen on your travels; he takes in the details of each piece of art. You have a knack for art, a lot better then himself he tells himself. Another glimpse into your life. Another thing her learnt about you.

Entry four~ "The days pass in a blur now, it's been months since shit hit the fan. I think it might be coming up to winter, the air is cooler, a nice bite to it at night. I lost my brother to a biter; he was out trying to find more supplies when the dead came out of nowhere, he tried to fight them off. He managed to get away and spend his last few moments with us, his body bloodied and bitten. I watched as he turned, his eyes glossing over, the snapping of his teeth as he reached out for our mother who was crying for him to stop, I didn't think I just acted, my knife plunging into his skull, he was my first biter I had to put down, we buried him in a field under a tree. Our mother hasn't been the same since, she barely says a word these days. We lost our car, ran outta petrol, lost most of our things, I managed to save the one thing I need in my life, my photos, my memories in the one bag I don't ever want to lose" At the bottom of the page is a Polaroid of yourself."

Daryl notices the tally on the bottom of the page. Later on in the journal he would see the numbers go up each time, you didn't write about them but you kept track.

Biter - 1 Human-0 Animals -2

And then a photo of the makeshift grave you buried your brother in. His date of birth and just the year 2010 at the end.  "I know it may seem silly to whoever is reading this but as long as I got a camera, batteries and film, I'll keep taking photos, documenting what I survive through, until I can no longer find the supplies. I'll keep doing this until I am no longer able to. It is the only thing that makes me sane, it makes this world feel to real"

Entry five~ "I know death comes to all, but I didn't think my own mother would end it herself. I should have seen the signs, she stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped living, day by day the life drained from her eyes, I think ever since we left, each day has made her realize that things were not going to get better. My brother and I buried her as best we could then we headed back out into the world, on foot for miles, tonight our home is a service station, not really safe, we are holed up in office, being as quiet as possible, we have raided the shelves for food and water, if we lucky we might get another day to rest here and then we will keep moving. I doubt we will make it to the mountains, it is too far to travel by foot."

He sees the cut-out photo of you and your mother, noting how much you look like her, you have her hair and facial features. His fingers move over the photo, he feels sorry for you, he knows how to feel to lose a loved one. You look so happy in this photo, the world can be cruel.

Entry six~ "I tried, I tried so hard to stop him, I screamed at him, begged him. But he didn't listen. Now I am all alone in the world I wasn't born for. My brother, the eldest, always looking out for me, we got stuck in a rundown house, he used himself as a diversion. He screamed at me to run, to get out. I grabbed my bag and ran, the last thing I saw as I turned back was him being over ran by them and screaming for to keep running, don't look back and that he loved me. My brother was a person who rarely said the L word, so hearing his last words as that made me run harder, until my chest burned. I have found a small tree house in the woods, I am guessing it was a child's secret hideaway, built by their parent's or at least that is what I am telling myself while I cry for the lost of my family, for tonight it is my sanctuary.  I have no idea how I am going to live alone; do I find a group? Do I try to live alone? I am scared, I haven't felt like this since day one. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, I have limited water, limited food and a couple weapons." Daryl continues reading the journal well into the night, when he glances at the clock its almost 2am in the morning, he decides to close the journal for the night, placing it on his nightstand. 

When he picks up the journal again, he can't believe how much he has read in a short time.

Entry 17~ "Found a library today, took out the undead inside, found a book on edible foods in the wild and how to survive out here. I am hoping they come in handy as my rations are almost out, also found a book to keep me entertained."

Biter-16 Human -2 Animal-8 Entry 18~ "I miss them." Daryl reads those three little words and feels a pang in his heart.

Entry 19~ "Today I snapped. A biter came out from behind a corner and in a second, I saw my life just die away. I beat that thing into a bloody pulp, smashing its head over and over, while tears formed into my eyes. Am I losing what little humanity I have left? Is being alone making me into an animal?"

Daryl grimaces at the photo of the now dead walker that you took. He wonders why you took that? Why would you want a photo of something that broke you? He has had his fair share of kills, yet he never truly wants to remember them.

Entry 20~ "Found a creek near the road I was walking, I have learnt how to filter dirty water, at least I have something to drink now, I just need to find food and a place to rest for the night. I have no idea really which direction I am going; I have to learn all this now."

Biter-36 Human -2 Animal-14

Entry 21~ "I am nearing the end of the book, the pages filled with the stories I have written, photos I have taken, I have truly lost track of time, the days, the months everything is mashed into one big never-ending nightmare. I fight for my life daily, it is exhausting. I think my next stop for me is the next town 30 miles away. For now I leave this journal here, for anyone, if there is anyone left out there that is. Please take care of my photos, my life story, it may not be anything these days."  The last words written hurts Daryl a little. "I truly don't want to die. But I don't know if I am strong enough to live."

And your signature style is a photo of you, he guessing you took it the day you finished the journal, you look sad, alone. He just wanted to hug you and tell you it's going to be alright.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Man's Best Friend - Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader

Title: Man's Best Friend

Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader

Additional Characters: Dog

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 1,700

Warnings: Mentions of walkers/zombies, Reader is afraid of dogs, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, soft Daryl, soft Dog lol, very brief mentions of anxiety attacks, mini angst, and fluff

Ever since you were a young child, way before the apocalypse broke out, you had always been afraid of dogs. Big or small, they all scared you. You didn't know exactly why you were afraid of them, maybe because you weren't really used to being near them as a kid, or even as an adult. Or maybe it was because a large Golden Retriever had once jumped up into your stroller when you were little, or at least, that was what your mother had told you had happened. You had no memory of it, nor when you started actually fearing man's best friend. 

Now, being afraid of them didn't technically mean that you hated them. Quite the contrary, you adored all animals, dogs included. You liked looking at them, petting them if you dared to do so and trusted or knew the owner. It all depended on the situation and, or course, the dog.

But it was difficult growing up. All around your neighborhood, a lot of people owned dogs. And though they were behind large fences most of the time, that didn't stop you from flinching every time they ran up to the fence, jumped, or barked - anything they did really, scared and stressed you out. 

You wished that you could not be afraid of them. You wished that you could be like others and see a dog without feeling the overwhelming and searing anxiety that coursed through your viens; chilling you to the bone as your eyes widened and your throat tightened - your whole body becoming frozen in fear.

Now, in the apocalypse, there weren't many animals, but you knew you'd eventually have a run-in with a dog at some point. They were smart and resilient creatures, that could easily outrun a walker or two. And you did. After traveling with Daryl for years, switching from group to group, losing loved ones and friends… You met Dog. Such a fitting name...

Dog was very cute, you'd give him that. He was a big, fluffy, soft-looking dog. He was seemingly friendly around the people he liked and was pretty vicious when attacking those trying to hurt the group or Daryl for that matter. 

For the months that Daryl had Dog, you had never pet him, or much if anything. You tried to stay as far away from him as possible when you could. But it was kind of hard when he was so close to Daryl. Thankfully, Daryl being the sweetest boyfriend in the world - and not wanting dog hair in the bed - wouldn't let Dog sleep in your shared bed. So that was nice. 

You did care for the dog though. You thought he was cute when he stared up at Daryl with those puppy eyes, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, panting slightly. He was cute. 

You'd even talk to him sometimes, using a baby-like voice when doing so if you pleased. You loved how happy he seemed to get, wagging his tail. 

Daryl on the other hand, noticed your apparent discomfort around Dog a long while ago - though it had lessened a bit over the years. It was still a bit obvious. He'd see you flinch if Dog came running up to see you to greet you or when you heard Dog bark. 

So he did his best to help you, often going on supply runs with you on one side of him and Dog on the other; blocking you from each other. He'd distract Dog with food or a random toy - stick, rag, rope, etcetera - so he could spend a bit more time with you. And he'd lock Dog out of the bedroom, making sure to set up a bed for him somewhere else in the home, so that you could have a worry-free sleep. 

Though he knew of your fear of dogs, he wanted to make sure you knew that Dog would never harm you. 

Laying on the couch, Dog laid on top of Daryl as the man brushed his hand through his thick fur. Dog laid happily, content at the affection and attention, and so was Daryl, but he was missing you. 

And you were only a couple of feet away.

Sitting on a chair, you quietly read a book, legs up on the red, plush cushion as you usually did in the presence of Dog. Subconsciously, you always pulled your legs up in front of the animal, your brain worried that, even though you knew Dog wouldn't do such a thing, that Dog wouldn't attack or jump up on you. 

Daryl watched as you read, unable to break his gaze away from you. Your face looked peaceful as your fingers lightly traced the pages of the book as you read, a content smile playing on your lips as you did so. He felt something tug at his heart as he admired you, the light from the window behind you illuminating your face softly. His eyes followed your form as you shuffled in your seat in the armchair, gently pushing your hair back behind your ears with the movement.

You were still reading, oblivious to Daryl's gaze. As said before, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You looked stunning in your simple band t-shirt and pj bottoms, your face clean of dirt and grime, freckles dusting your cheekbones as you licked your lips with the tip of your tongue. Your eyes were soft as they moved across the page, narrowing slightly when you turned to the next, brows furrowing as you continued. Must have been a good book, Daryl had thought.

"You're staring, D," Your voice interrupted his thoughts as you put your book down on your lap and shifted your position, stretching your arms above your head. Daryl averted his gaze, cheeks flushing a bit as you looked over at him. "What is it?"

Daryl grumbled slightly, turning his gaze to Dog, rubbing the dog's head, "Nothin', jus'... Ya look nice today." He answered softly, albeit a bit gruffly. 

Your smile grew, your cheeks warming, "Daryl..." You trailed off with a sigh, "You're too sweet." The hunter flushed again, ducking his head to hide his face with his hair. "You look handsome today too." You added, making Daryl huff, shaking his head. Biting your lip briefly, you moved your thumb in your book to mark your page as you closed it; giving the man all of your attention. "I mean it. You are."

Looking up, Daryl was surprised to find you gazing at him. You flushed lightly under his gaze and his breath caught in his throat as your eyes locked with his brown ones. You were gorgeous. He realized he was just staring, and quickly cleared his throat, "Uh… Thanks, Y/N." You smiled and nodded in response, though it faltered when your eyes glanced over at Dog. Daryl noticed this, seeing how your eyes softened, a certain longing in them as you watched him continue to pet Dog. “Do ya… Wanna pet him?” He then asked, making you blink rapidly.

You cleared your throat, looking back down at your book, “You know I do… I’m just-”

“Scared?” Daryl finished for you, watching as you shifted in your seat again, “He ain’t gonna hurt ya. Ya know that.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, “I know. Just nervous, cause well, he’s a big dog…”

Standing up, Daryl grunted slightly as he did so. Dog stayed put on the couch, watching as Daryl walked over to your chair. You looked up at him as he offered you his hand, which you glanced at briefly. “C’mon,” He said softly, a very, very small smile on his face. You gulped, taking his hand, your legs feeling a bit numb as he helped you stand. You felt your heart begin to race as he led you to the couch, your eyes unable to stray from Dog’s. “Yer fine,” You heard Daryl say, voice gruff at how low he was speaking, “Ya know him, he’s a good boy.” 

At that, you scoffed out a laugh, seeing Dog’s tail wagging with great speed as he looked up at you. “That’s gotta be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Darly’s small grin widened slightly as he saw your shoulders drop, and your breathing normalized. Daryl stopped before Dog, an arm’s reach away, the dog in question staring up at you with those large puppy dog eyes.

“Alrigh’, reach yer hand out, let him sniff ya.” Daryl spoke, squeezing your hand as you hesitantly raised your free one. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

You held your breath, watching as Dog leaned forward and sniffed your hand, the warmth of his breath fanning over your hand. You quickly shut your eyes at the feeling, turning to nudge your face into Daryl’s shoulder. Your mind began to race with all sorts of different, terrible scenarios, your heart hammering in your chest; breath shallow. 

Until, you felt soft fur. 

You opened your eyes slowly, turning your head to watch as Dog rubbed his head under your hand, his tail wagging at high speeds. You blinked, pushing your head off of Daryl’s shoulder as you watched Dog. You felt a huge wave of relief flow over you, making you smile. With your own volition, you moved your hand, petting Dog’s head softly. He turned into your touch almost instantly, letting out a tiny sound as he pressed against your hand. He licked your fingers gently before licking your palm. 

Your heart ached at how happy this dog made you feel. You didn’t understand it yourself; it wasn’t something you experienced often. It was as if, in that moment, all the stress you were carrying disappeared. The fear and anxiety that had been plaguing you disappeared with him. You could barely breathe as your stomach fluttered.

Leaning your head back on Daryl's shoulder, you sighed as you continued to pet Dog. "Thank you, D." You muttered happily. 

He nodded his head, lightly squeezing your hand in his, "Knew ya could do it, sweetheart."

You smiled again. You could feel your cheeks growing warm, Dog whined softly from where he was now snuggled up against your hand; wanting more attention.

---

Main Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist

[dixons-sunshine]

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons Part 5 | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word count: 592.

A/n: Focusing back on them before the apocalypse for now. And the last part personally had me giggling. Kids, huh? Anyways, I hope you like this!

Specially dedicated to my biggest supporter on this au, @ddamm.

★ Daryl bought his own motorcycle shortly after the two of you moved into your final apartment.

★ He had spent years saving up for it, even hesitantly accepting any money you wanted to add to the savings for his motorcycle.

★ He was hesitant to take your money because he felt bad. He didn't want you to “waste” money on him, money that you could use to buy yourself something nice.

★ However, you were adamant, and your contribution to the savings helped him immensely.

★ The day he bought his own motorcycle, he was ecstatic. It wasn't anything fancy, but he loved it, and therefore, you loved it as well.

★ You'd been with him for over a decade at that point. You knew practically all the lore surrounding the motorcycling community. Daryl took great pleasure in teaching you everything he knew.

★ It made Daryl happy to know that you took interest in something he liked. He could go on for hours about motorcycles and you wouldn't mind. You'd actively ask questions and ask him to explain something you didn't understand.

★ Daryl was even teaching you how to ride one. It wasn't quite like teaching you how to ride a bicycle, like you had joked when he had suggested teaching you how to ride a motorcycle, but you got better with time.

★ Soon, you were able to ride one on your own, though you still preferred to have the professional—Daryl—ride it instead with you on the back, holding on to him.

★ Going away from motorcycles for a bit, Daryl was also the one that taught you how to drive a car.

★ Merle had essentially given his truck to Daryl way back when, and the old thing surprisingly still worked years later, all the way to the start of the apocalypse.

★ That was the first thing—apart from a bicycle—you ever learned to drive.

★ When Daryl bought his motorcycle, he basically gave you the truck to go to and from work, the supermarket, basically anywhere you wanted to go.

★ During the earlier stages before he bought the motorcycle, he'd go and pick you up from work with his truck.

★ He once picked you up a bit later than usual due to the field trip you had taken your class on, and when you had gotten off the bus to greet him with a cheek kiss, the kids all collectively commented on it, eliciting chuckles from you and your husband.

★ “Ew.”

★ That's also how your class had gotten introduced to your husband. After that, they never stopped asking about him.

★ “Mrs Dixon, how'd you meet Mr Dixon?”

“Mrs Dixon, have you and Mr Dixon ever kissed with your mouths like my mommy and daddy?”

“Mrs Dixon, do you love Mr Dixon?”

★ You had also once gotten a question from one of the kids that had you choking and blushing.

★ “Mrs Dixon, do you and Mr Dixon play with your clothes off?”

★ You changed that topic of discussion very quickly. Nope, you weren't gonna teach a bunch of five year olds about sex.

★ It did make for some good comedy when you got back home. Well, for Daryl at least. When you told him about that, he couldn't stop laughing. He found the question hilarious.

★ “Well, what'd ya tell him?”

“I didn't say anything. I changed the topic.”

“Ya could've said yes. We do “play with our clothes off” a bunch'a times.”

“Daryl, I'm not gonna say that! Do you know how many parents would be plotting my murder?”

“I know. M'jus' messin' with ya, Darlin'.”

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I think it would be funny if s/o and skelly agreed to have only 1 kid together but opps at the ultra sound they find out there's 4 babies in there

And s/o very pregnant gos "YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE!!"

Undertale Sans - He shrugs, playing it cool. But he's actually not cool at all. What the hell do you mean there are four? You see him with four kids? He can barely take care of himself, what do you mean he has to be responsible for four babies? He thinks he's in shock right now. His mind can't really figure out what that means.

Undertale Papyrus - Well he never hid he wanted several children but maybe not all at the same time? He didn't even know it could happen? Wait, do you have even enough place for four in your belly? Are you going to burst? Are you going to explode???? Ok, he's freaking out a little right now. That's crazy!

Underswap Sans - He needs to sit down for a bit. You already have a hard time convincing him to have one kid, four is another level. Blue is grieving his peaceful quiet life, leave him alone for a bit, he needs to realize the huge mistake he just made. He swears he's going to pass out.

Underswap Papyrus - Oh wow. Ok, maybe he hoped a tiny bit to have twins because he loves children, but four is something. He can't help it and starts to laugh nervously as you lose it. Did he do that on purpose? Maybe he did. He tells you not to worry, he got this. Honey is really happy about that turn of events.

Underfell Sans - THE HELL YOU MEAN HE DID THAT ON PURPOSE CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S HAVING A PANIC ATTACK RIGHT NOW?! Red is terrified and in shock. Please tell him the doctor is joking. He can't have four kids, he doesn't even think he can take care of one, what do you mean four???

Underfell Papyrus - He immediately gets defensive. Why would it be his fault? For all he knows, that's your fault! You're the one carrying them! If he carried them that wouldn't have happened for sure! He already struggled to build one baby bed, you're the one who is going to build the others since that's entirely your fault! And what the doctor is looking at?! Don't you have a job to do or something?!

Horrortale Sans - Uh? He blinks at you, confused. What's his fault again? Wait. Is this a hospital? You tricked him into going to the hospital? He growls at the doctor when he touches you. Don't touch his S/O, you're pregnant with like a ton of babies! You froze. Wait, how does he know if he wasn't paying attention? ... Actually he knew already. He can feel the souls inside you? He's confused you don't?

Horrortale Papyrus - That's way too many emotions for Willow. He was already crying in the waiting room because he's going to see the baby, but now he's just sobbing uncontrollably, hugging you to death. He's both so happy and absolutely terrified.

Swapfell Sans - Nox is staring at the screen in complete disbelief. That's for sure a lot of children to protect. He was already scared of what could happen with one, and now he has to work again his whole strategy. He doesn't hear what you said, he's already on Amazon, panicking, buying more things for the baby. You can try to tell him there's still five months or so to prepare, he doesn't care. What if there's an apocalypse and you run out of diapers?! One baby is fine, but four? Do you want to die intoxicated? He for sure doesn't want to die intoxicated so he buys 500 more to be sure.

Swapfell Papyrus - He smirks as you immediately ask if it's his fault. Liste, he didn't know he had special power. Maybe he should rename his pelvis section "Super P" or something. You beg him to not do that. The next day, somehow, his pants are saying "I have a super P right there". You want to die.

Fellswap Gold Sans - As you scream at him, he gets that as you don't want more than one so he starts to give money to the doctor, who looks at him, confused. What? The hell is he looking at him for? Make three babies disappear? When he says it's impossible, Wine simply blinks. He's not having four children. He's not even sure he can take care of one. So he takes out the gun. You try to talk to him, he just tells you to let him go through his denial phase the way he wants. He comes back to you right after.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He looks down, apologetic. He didn't know... That was the first time :( Please don't be mad at him. When you say you know that he glows up. Before brutally realizing that the four babies are happening for real. He gives you the most distressed look you have ever seen him do. Oh boy. You're going to need to comfort him a lot :')

[kiaxet]

So it turns out the latest update in @somerandomdudelmao‘s apocalypse comic has been living in my head, and when that happens I need to get it out, so ~900 words of sad it is!

~~~~~~~~

Donnie is good at birthdays. He has been once he was old enough to understand the concept. It's a point of pride.

Specifically, he's good at presents. According to his data, most people who fail at presents do so because of the guesswork they seem to think needs to be involved. He's never understood the point of that. Data and hypotheses, certainly, but why guess when a definitive answer is available after a simple direct inquiry?

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Early on, the presents are easy. Art supplies. Comics. Stuffed animals. Things he could hand to Papa in an easily followed list format, or obtain for himself once they all got old enough to start safely leaving the lair and venturing into the city above. It's simple and straightforward and so, so easy to get right.

(Of course, he always has an annotated list of his own desired gifts to provide to his brothers; if he's solved the guesswork issue, he may as well make things easy for them too. Plus, that method ensures he gets what he wants.)

Things start getting a little more complicated as he and his brothers get older. Art supplies and comics and stuffed animals are still very much appreciated, and he's documented his brothers' tastes well enough to know exactly what they like, but the answers to his simple direct inquiry are different.

"Dee, can you help me plan this mural out? I think I have enough space, but I could use a hand with the measurements."

"Donton, my half of the day is gonna be a Jupiter Jim marathon, and I need you there. Without your laptop." A beat. "But you can pick one of the movies if you want."

"Hey Donnie, you think you can help me out fixing up the gym? Things just stay put longer if you weld 'em."

After a few years of documentation, Donnie spots the pattern. His brothers appreciate physical gifts from him, certainly, but that's not what they want anymore. What Donnie's family wants from him is time - time outside the lab where he spends a good amount of his days, time spent in conversation or shared activity or simply in the same room. It's not as easy as finding the right physical gift, but if that's what they want, then he's more than happy to provide. Now that he's discerned the pattern, it's just as easy to give his brothers what they want, and Donnie can continue to maintain that he is Good At Birthdays as a point of pride.

~~~~~~~~

The Hamatos don't do birthdays anymore. There's no time in the apocalypse, no supplies, and Donnie is one of the few who actually keeps track of the calendar date. The apocalypse certainly has its share of anniversaries, a list that only grows the more people they lose, but birthdays are no longer celebrated.

With one exception.

Casey Jones Junior, their collective adopted kid, is young enough that birthdays still matter - should still matter. They do their best to keep him safe and keep those days calm and happy for him, despite everything happening around them, and while they don't always succeed, they at least try.

And damn it all, Donatello is still good at birthdays.

"Casey Junior!" He greets the kid with a grin, leaning on his bo like it's not both an inconvenience and a humiliation to need to rely on it in order to stay upright.

"Uncle Tello?"

"Since I'm not very good at guessing, I'll ask straight out." This is not entirely true - he has a list of potential gifts for Casey drafted, with 98% certainty that whatever Casey asks for will align with one of them - but he requires that confirmation to move forward. A certainty in a world where certainty is in short supply. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"My...ah." Casey's expression falls and he looks away, gaze fixed on the paperwork in his hands. Donatello says nothing, pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room in order to give Casey space. "You...can do anything," Casey starts.

"Pretty much, yes." Material issues aside - spirits know he'd have a cure for whatever the Krang had infected him with if those weren't a concern.

"I want you to stay alive," Casey says, and Donnie's smile freezes in place as Casey looks back up at him. "Can you do that?"

Damn that two percent uncertainty.

"Ah. Of course." He shrugs, as though he doesn't know exactly what Casey is asking for, and pulls up a holographic display of a calendar. "According to my calculations, I will be alive next month, which means I'll be here for your birthday." Not talking about it won't solve the problem, but it may salvage this conversation. "So! What's an actual gift you want?"

"I want you to be here." Casey's gaze finds a point on the floor, and Donnie falls silent. "Not just for a month."

No. No, he needs something concrete - something he can act on - he knows how long his list of responsibilities is, but he still feels stymied, rushing up on the end, and he needs something he can do- "But it's not a gift," he replies, a last-ditch effort he's fairly certain is bound for failure-

"No. No, it is."

As always, all Donnie's family wants from him is time.

And now, at the end of his rapidly-shortening life, it's the one thing he can no longer give them.

[raccoonsandrangoons]

Rick Grimes NSFW Alphabet

Just a little something I whipped up for a friend ✨💛

✨ pairing: Rick Grimes x Reader

✨ warnings: NSFW (smut)

✨ A/N: honestly for a Daryl girlie myself, it was a lot easier to write HCs for Rick 🤣

A - Aftercare

A King. He’s 100% for a cuddle. He’s like a baby; he needs skin to skin, even if it’s just holding your hand

B - Body (his favorite part)

Ass. He’s all about that ass. He’s gonna say he loves all parts of you (and it’s true), but he’s got a weakness for your ass. He can’t help but stare as you’re walking away.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

He knows that protection is a rare commodity in these times. If he could finish inside, best believe he’s going to, but he doesn’t not like the look of you covered in his cum.

D - Dirty Little Secret (what’s he hiding 🤭)

He doesn’t have any dirty secrets, but he does keep his feelings for you suppressed as long as possible, especially if you’re significantly younger than him

E - Experience

He’s a fairly experienced guy. Kinda. He’s not a virgin by any means, he’s got kids. But he’s only been with 2-3 people at most.

F - Favorite Position

Classic missionary bby. He wants to see your face.

G - Goofy?

He’s fairly serious, but if something funny happens, like you slip while trying to switch positions, he’ll let out a little giggle.

H - Hair

It’s the apocalypse. How do you think grooming goes? Once he’s in the Alexandria safe haven, he’ll keep himself trimmed up. As for you, he doesn’t care at all. It’s your body and it’s whatever you say.

I - Intimacy

He is very sweet and intimate. He loves showering together. It’s his favorite form of intimacy, whether it leads to sex or not. He loves when you wash his back, and he loves when washing your hair and giving you a nice scalp massage.

J - Jorkin’ It

For stress relief, and definitely before y’all get together. But once you’re together, he’d rather just go straight to you

K - Kinks

He’s a fairly vanilla guy, but he’s not opposed to spanking, roughhousing a little. Maybe you can convince him to role play a little in his uniform.

L - Location

He prefers at home. He’s not a risky man as it is and he doesn’t want to risk being caught. It’s motivated by respect for you.

M - Motivations (turn ons)

Anything you do. He throws his all into everything and he is all about you.

N - NOs

Nothing that can put you in danger. Nothing restraining for either of you

O - Oral

Giving and receiving. He loves it. He’s all for it. He always says “baby you don’t have to”, when you get on your knees but you both know he wants it and he is more than happy to reciprocate.

P — Pace

Soft, slow, and sensual. He comes from a place of love and respect, and he’s going to take his time with you.

Q — Quickies?

If he has to. In the beginning, maybe that’s all you had.

In Alexandria, if you get enough in him to drink at a party, rile him up enough, he’ll pull you into a corner for a make out session and then tell you to meet him at home in 10 minutes.

R — Risky?

Nope. He’s not risky at all. He’s pulling out. He’s making sure no one is around.

S — Stamina

He can go a few rounds, for sure. But he is climbing in age, so

T — Toys

Hard to come by in the apocalypse, but in a situation where it’s available, he sees your toys as his teammates.

U — Unfair

He can be a bit of a tease when you start developing a more domestic relationship. A slide of his hand down your back, a quick squeeze of your ass (he can’t help it).

V — Volume

He’s not super loud, but he’s vocal. A lot of “That’s it”, “feels so good”; etc.

W — Wildcard (dealer’s choice hc)

I think he’s jealous. He knows you’re a helpful person and he knows others are drawn to you. He can’t help but feel a little jealous. And boy does he love when you get jealous. He loves being able to tease you when you’re jealous.

X — X-ray

He’s packing. Nothing extraordinary, but you’ll giggle with the girls over tea, as respectfully as possible. He is shy, ya know.

Y — Yearning

He’s a yearning man. He’s not a desperate type of needy, but he will tug at your clothes as he holds you from behind and whisper “need you”

Z — ZZZ

He definitely wants to sleep after, which is why he doesn’t really like doing it anywhere but home.

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 2 ~ LATE NIGHT TEARS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: excuse another set up chapter, shit will start going down very very soon

chapter warnings: mentions of death/death threats, sad vibes ngl

chapter word count: 2.6k

After Chan agrees, things progress surprisingly fast. Although he sends Chan a warning look, Minho doesn’t object, and Seungmin looks at you coolly, as if he hasn’t quite put his confidence in you but doesn’t object to sharing a space with you, either. Felix just looks happy. You get the sense that he trusts you just because you haven’t given him a reason otherwise.

If any of them take notice of your row of kitchen knives, they say nothing.

They decide among themselves who is going where. In the end, Felix and Seungmin stay back with you while Chan and Minho go to fetch the others. You talk a little with them, finding out that Felix owned a cafe and Seungmin was doing a masters in law. The blonde happily chatters with you, informing you further that Chan was a lifeguard and Minho a dance teacher and sometimes part of a troupe, as well the lives of the others, while Seungmin stares out the window as it begins to rain, occasionally chipping in.

It’s altogether far too easy to talk with Felix. There’s something about him that’s warm, something about the simple way he trusts you that makes him all the more trustworthy - he puts you at ease in an instant, his low voice comforting and familiar. The way he tells you about his friends makes you like them before you’ve even met them.

By the time they get back, it’s nightfall. They’re soaked, droplets of water sliding from their hair and onto the linoleum floor in tiny rivulets, starting in tributaries at the hems of their shirts and turning into not so small waterfalls - you notice they’re all shivering slightly, the tips of their noses and their cheeks flushed scarlet. Pulling off his mask, Chan runs his fingers through his hair and slicks it back, dropping a stuffed backpack on the floor beside him, careful to avoid the quickly growing lake around his feet.

There’s the four you haven’t met yet gathered in a small huddle behind him. The handsome, tall guy must be who Felix described as Hyunjin - the artist who models on the side. He shakes the rain off him, droplets flicking from the ends of his messily tied black hair onto the younger man beside him. To their left, a shorter man laden with muscle removes his mask, revealing a cheery smile that makes his evident strength a little less intimidating.

Your eyebrows raise as Minho slaps the butt of the last of the new arrivals. You stay quiet.

Felix and Seungmin go to greet the others, and you remain sitting where you are, giving them some privacy. They speak quietly, though occasionally a bright laugh rings out, and you’re struck by how familiar they are with each other - Felix told you that they were lucky they were all together when the first horseman came, but you find it hard to believe they wouldn’t have found each other one way or another if they hadn’t been.

You catch flashes of damp skin and ivory grins as they wring out their clothes. Curious glances get sent your way until Chan peels off and sits beside you; you’re positive that nothing could hide the affection in his smile as he looks over at them.

“It’s a lot when you first see all of us together, huh?” he says, his voice confiding and bemused.

“A little,” you confirm. “But it’s nice, really. It’s good to hear laughter.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I can’t count how many times they’ve saved me. They’re family.”

You’re startled by Chan’s easy confession, enough so that all you can do is stare at him in shock, surprised to find that he looks relaxed, his eyes far away and his hair sticking out at all angles from where he’s rubbed it dry. Your brain takes that particular moment to note that he’s got a soft, inviting mouth - it compliments the sharpness of his nose well. Unfortunately, neither of those things is something you could respond with.

When the muscular one approaches, the other three behind him, you’re still scrambling for a reply. Eventually, your mouth, which had been previously hanging open like a trapdoor in effort to make a sound in answer to Chan, snaps shut and you send them a pleasant smile as they assemble awkwardly in front of you. Over their shoulders you can see Minho attacking the bags they brought with them, unpacking them with organised ferocity.

“I’m Hyunjin,” the artist-model announces, as you predicted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Jisung,” the one whose butt Minho slapped says. You notice his hair is slightly shaggy, curling around his reddened ears and at the nape of his neck, and he regards you with a neutral expression, as if he hasn’t formed his opinion on you yet.

“I’m Jeongin,” the youngest adds, and unsurprisingly, you can see the suspicion thinly veiled in his eyes.

Your gaze slides to the last one to introduce himself, the muscular one. According to Felix, he must be Changbin, who was in the army. The moment your eyes lock on his, a distant memory surfaces of you and a boy in the school library, hiding from the stern librarian and trying to stay quiet despite his infectious laughter. You almost don’t recognise him - not just because he’s gotten rid of that ridiculous bowl cut he had when you were thirteen, but because his frame has filled out with muscle.

God, it suits him.

You search his face for a flicker of recognition, for anything, but you find nothing. Unexpected disappointment slices through you - he doesn’t know you, either because he’s forgotten you or because he doesn’t care. Either way, you guess it doesn’t really matter who you were friends with when you were kids. It still hurts, anyways.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say once Changbin has introduced himself, trying to keep your voice bright and your eyes off him.

Though the lab is your space, you feel like an intruder as they talk among themselves. Even Felix has forsaken you, moving across the room to prod at Changbin’s arms as he pesters him about something or other, twin smiles brightening their faces.

You feel lost. You can’t help but question Chan’s motives again - you don’t belong with these men, nor does your presence benefit them in any way, and yet they still smile, unflappable despite the distrust you see in some of their gazes. It’s clear to you that Chan himself doesn’t trust you fully, either, but he seems to like you well enough.

The same can’t be said for Minho, though. Jisung is talking to him but you can feel his gaze pinning you down, watching you in a way that makes you want to sink into the ground below your feet.

There’s a warning in the sharpness of his glare: you hurt them, you die.

The more time you spend with them, the more you realise how tightly knit they are. They work as a unit to distribute the food for dinner (you receive a can of beans, cold, of course, and a stale granola bar) and to count up and evaluate the supplies they have left, with your additions from the convenience store; they pair up to share blankets when they decide it’s time to sleep while you get one all to yourself; and now that they’re all quiet, you’re half certain they’re breathing in sync, too.

It’s not even weird. You can tell that this harmony is what has helped them survive for so long, not only physically, but mentally too. Together they are self-sustaining, confiding in each other, falling into their separate roles without having to be asked: you get the sense that even the sleeping arrangements are non verbally premeditated, down to the Hello Kitty blanket Changbin and Felix are sharing.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re not sure if there’s space for you.

If that concerns him, Chan doesn’t let it show. He beckoned you over to sleep beside him, which unfortunately meant that you also ended up next to Minho. That in itself seems like a precaution. You have no doubt that he’d happily incapacitate you before you could even start thinking about doing any funny business, if you read the look he gave you as he shuffled a little closer to Jisung well enough.

Thankfully, Chan’s half pointed towards Jeongin, enough so that he doesn’t have to stare at you as he falls asleep. After a while of staring vacantly at the spot just over his shoulder, you realise how pleasant it is to lie on and under blankets after over a week of slouching on the hard floor; they’re soft, and the one beneath you is slightly warm from Minho, which would be disconcerting if it didn’t feel so fucking nice.

Despite the knowledge that you’re in a room with eight other steadily, defiantly beating hearts, that you’re not the only living person left in the whole world, you find that your eyelids won’t droop closed.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You’re reminded of the school trips you went on when you were younger, where you’d listen to everyone else’s breathing slow as they fell asleep, still up and wriggling about in your sleeping bag like a caterpillar ready to hatch.

At least back then, there wasn’t the looming possibility that you were the only person awake on the whole planet.

Careful not to hit either of the boys beside you, you squirm, shifting around in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. You’re just about to turn over again when you hear the blankets rustle, the sound of someone to your left getting to their feet and padding out of the lab interrupting the soft sound of the others’ breathing.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. Your fingers tighten where they’re clenched in the blankets. You wait, counting fifty of Chan’s breaths before you get up and follow.

You’re entirely unsure of what you’ll find. You don’t bring a knife - you didn’t hear whoever left pause to take one, and if worst comes to worst, you have the taekwondo classes you took with Changbin, way back when.

Quietly, you ease open the door, stepping out into the corridor. You check the little kitchenette first, which is empty. Your boss’s office is the next closest, but you notice the communal room’s door is ajar, different from how you last left it - you’d been hoping closing it off would shut out the memories of the first horseman and his rictus grin.

Pushing it open, you realise with a jolt that whoever is within is crying: the only illumination within the small room is a splash of red tinted moonlight, but your eyes are adjusted enough that you can see the way he’s hunched over on the sofa, sniffling a little as sobs shake his shoulders. From the longish black hair, you’d guess it’s Hyunjin.

You know you should leave and give him privacy, but the night gives you bravery, as if the inability to see makes your lingering embarrassment exist a little less.

“Hey,” you say softly, coming round to sit beside him on the sofa.

Hyunjin tugs his sleeves over his hands so he can wipe his tears away. “Sorry, I must have woken you up.”

“Don’t worry, I was up already.”

You find that now you’ve bitten the bullet and decided to talk to him, no words reveal themselves to you. Telling him ‘it’s okay’ would be a blatant lie, and asking him if he’s alright would almost be worse; you can’t think of any better options, and frankly, you’ve always been a bit clumsy with your words.

Instead, you awkwardly hold your arms out. “Is it okay if I, uh - ”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he nods, his arms already wrapping tight around you before you can reach out for a cautious hug. Closing your eyes and resting your chin on his hair as he cries, you rub gentle circles on his back, holding him a little tighter when little sobs slip out from deep within his chest. You feel tears prick at your own eyes. There’s no guessing what aggrieves him, although with the current condition of the world he doesn’t really need any excuses for crying, but all the same, his vulnerability awes you.

A treacherous thought enters your mind: you could kill him now.

You could grab a knife, cut his throat, dump him somewhere outside the lab and claim he left and never returned. Logically, you could even take him as hostage and demand they hand over all their supplies and weapons, but you don’t. You can’t. In truth, you owe them.

Besides, you don’t want to stab Hyunjin, or strangle him or whatever violent thing a more pragmatic and heartless person would do - most likely, Minho would slaughter you if you did, anyway, and you wouldn’t blame him.

At least with these men, this little band of tight knit survivors, you won’t die alone.

In response to that realisation, you link your fingers with Hyunjin’s, smoothing a comforting thumb over his knuckles. A small smile raises the corners of your mouth as he sighs into your shoulder - albeit accompanied with a little sniffle - and you squeeze his hand tightly in a silent pledge: I’ll fight for this family as if it were my own, because I hope that one day it will be.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask abruptly, startled by the rude din of your own voice. “It’s okay if the answer’s no.”

“I… I think I do, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin replies, still with his face buried in your shoulder. “It’s nothing specific, really. I just miss the way things were, you know? And my family, and my dog, Kkami, and the dog before, Kkomi.” He shrugs. “Somehow I even miss just seeing people in the street. I wish I could go outside and get bumped this way and that by a crowd. I don’t even think I’d care if I got mugged or hit on. At least it’d be normal.”

You laugh but sober quickly. “I get that. Holy shit, I get that. Crazy how things changed so fast, huh?”

Hyunjin nods in agreement. “I can hardly remember the - ”

The door bursts open. Your heart lurches as you glimpse the lightning silver flash of a knife, and you jerk upwards on instinct, the coffee table toppling to the floor with a harsh clatter. It takes you half a moment to recognise the raging blur - his features are twisted with a savage, fearsome type of protective intent, his hair still mussed from sleeping.

Eyes blazing, Minho brandishes his knife as he zeroes in on Hyunjin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Minho’s eyes soften, even as he rolls them. “All that fuss for nothing.”

Jeongin appears in the doorway. “I told you they’d be fine,” he grumbles. “You’re paranoid.”

“You gave me the knife,” he huffs. “Don’t act like you weren’t even a little bit concerned.”

Wiping his face, Hyunjin gets up, and you follow him back to the lab. The guys all squint up at you, expressions varying from wide eyed to amused. Chan sighs when he sees everyone is unscathed, half in relief and half in exasperation before promptly ordering everyone back to bed.

This time, you have no problems falling asleep.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable (let me know if you want to be added)

[billieonmars]

Carl Grimes x Male!reader

Jealousy

Summary: this is based off of the headcanon I did about Carl and Y/N being jealous in Alexandria.

Warnings: very brief mention of parents death, and one detailed kiss

Alexandria was safe. Y/N and Carl had never felt so safe since the prison and even then they could never be sure if they were truly safe. When they first entered the walls of Alexandria they were all suspicious. It was too good to be true; running water, electricity, and free mansions. After a few weeks they settled in. Things began to change little by little; people slept more, ate more, and therefore became happier. However, one thing never changed.

Y/N and Carl were always stuck at the hip. How could they separate when they've been together since everything started? When they were separated from everyone else they always ended up the only ones together. From the first camp outside Atlanta, to the farm, to the prison, now Alexandria, and everything in between.

It was well known information within the group that where you would find Carl, you would find Y/N. When they were hunkered down in the camp outside of Atlanta, their parents had to stop them from sleeping in the same tent just to keep them from giggling and whispering instead of actually sleeping. And when Carl was shot, Y/N was beside himself with fear. At first he cried and cried until there were no tears left. Then he held Carl's hand until the boy opened his eyes and reassured him that he was alive.

Nothing changed when they got their homes in Alexandria. After Y/N's parents died, it was a silent agreement that Y/N was a part of Carl, Rick, and Judith's little family. No words needed to be spoken when the two boys placed their bags of dirty, too big or small clothes in the same room. And no words were spoken about the fact that there was only one bed. No one even said anything when hand holding turned to kisses on foreheads, and then into quick pecks on the lips.

So, yes, everyone was well aware that Carl and Y/N were together, and that they had no intention of breaking up. Well, almost everyone knew or just didn't care.

When Jessie Anderson came to Rick and told him that Ron was excited to meet Carl and Y/N, they were both nervous. It was going to be their first time hanging out with other kids their age in a long time. Sure they had friends in the prison, but that all ended fairly quickly. For all they knew, Alexandria was permanent. They had all the supplies to keep people in and walls to keep walkers out.

Y/N was nervous around Ron when they first met, Carl was too. They weren't afraid of him; Y/N was sure either of them would be able to take him down if he tried anything. Ron just felt like a real teenager, one that you would've met in high school and would wonder if he was laughing at you behind your back. He felt like a popular kid thrown into an apocalypse. Y/N found the thought funny; popular kids, jocks, nerds, loners, in an apocalypse. How could they still form cliques when the world had ended?

He supposed he would've been a nerd. Even before the outbreak when he was only 10 or 11 years old he was always reading things like adventures, mysteries, or just stupid comedies. In his heart he felt like Carl would also be a nerd, but maybe a different type. He would play video games and be awkward around peers, he would read too, but only comics.

Then he met Enid and Mikey. He couldn't get a read on Mikey, the boy was kind of just there. But Enid, he could read. She acted like a loner; cold, few words, and just plain bitchy at times. He knew she was trying to put up an act of indifference; maybe trying to put herself out of the spotlight. What she didn't understand was that her actions made the spotlight bright up her entire being. But Y/N had a feeling that something wasn't right in her 'lonerness.' he couldn't place it but also didn't read much into it, after all she was also from the outside. He understood how she felt thrown into this happy-go-lucky town.

He didn't think much of her attitude until he looked at Carl. He was staring at Enid, not even trying to be inconspicuous. A spark of jealousy flared up inside Y/N's chest. It started burning bright with red and yellow flames. He didn't know why the flame of jealousy was ignited so quickly or why it burned so hot. Suddenly, Ron was speaking again.

"We can play video games. Or Mikey's dad has a pool table but he's a little strict about it."

Ron's question broke him from the jealousy filled stare he was sending to Enid. Y/N didn't care about what they did, as long as he stayed by Carl and wasn't expected to talk much. Carl was then looking away from Enid and seemed nervous trying to take it all in. Before Carl said anything he looked to Y/N who leaned just a little bit closer to his side.

"It's okay if you don't really want to do anything. You don't even need to talk. Hell, it took Enid three weeks to even say anything." Then suddenly that flare of jealousy returned as Carl's attention was brought to Enid once again.

"Let's play video games." Carl, thankfully, answered for both of them. Y/N didn't know if the influx of emotions would allow him to speak at all.

A controller was handed to Y/N but he gave it back, saying he would be fine just watching. It was the truth as after seeing the way Carl was looking at Enid, he didn't feel like doing much of anything. He didn't know how to feel, it was all so weird. Before that moment Y/N had never even considered the possibility of Carl leaving him for someone else. It was always just them and adults, no other teens. He didn't even want to start thinking about the fact that Enid was the first teenage girl (besides Beth) that they had seen. What if Carl had only dated him because there were no girls around?

He tried to think rationally as Carl, Ron, and Mikey smashed the buttons on their controllers. The look wasn't romantic; he knew what Carl looked like when he loved something. It was the look he got when he found a fully intact comic book, or a can of his favourite food after starving for 2 days. Or the look he gave Y/N when he would wake up snuggled into Carl's side.

No, it wasn't romantic but it was still a look of interest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Carl wouldn't leave him, not if it was the last thing he did. Carl loved him, he told him himself the night before. Everything would be alright. Without opening his eyes he leaned his head on Carl's shoulder and scooched a little closer. His thoughts were made up when Carl kissed his hair and continued playing his game, all while Enid looked at them from the bed.

The day after hanging out with Carl, Ron, Mikey, and Enid, was a little strange. First, Carl was asked to make a run. Y/N had no idea why they would do this as the people of Alexandria seemed to be hell-bent on keeping the kids safe. He hated when Carl went on runs because not only was he already worrying about Rick, he was now worrying about Carl. They were his family, and Judith's too. However, being from the outside, it was nothing new to the boys so Y/N sucked it up and didn't complain. After a hug, kiss, and promises of being safe, Carl was off with Rick and the others.

Second, once he watched the car drive off, Y/N went to go back to his shared room with Carl. His plans were interrupted by Carol.

"You're not wasting your day away in bed." Y/N was surprised when Carol even started talking to him. He didn't think that anyone besides Carl or Rick cared about what he did.

"I'm not, I'm enjoying my day in bed." He could hear the sass slip into his voice, but Carol just smiled.

"You can't just leave the house with Carl, you know. You need to find independence." Y/N rolled his eyes but turned back out the door anyways.

"What do you know?" He mumbled quietly to himself. Carol heard but only smiled; satisfied that he listened.

In the moment, he was annoyed. His boyfriend was gone and there was a pretty big chance that he wasn't coming back; it was too easy to be overrun by walkers. On top of that, it had been forever since he had his own bed. He felt as if he should be able to enjoy it for as long as he could; not every safe haven has lasted them. But looking back, he was glad. If he had stayed in bed his thoughts would have run with so many things he would have ended up crying himself hysterical.

He found himself wandering around Alexandria, looking at the gardens and kids playing in the streets. Eventually looking at the garden and the kids got boring and he started kicking a rock, watching as it skidded across the pavement almost like skipping a stone in water. The noise was satisfying; a pitter-patter of stone against stone. Before the dead-eating-men fiasco, Y/N would have found this boring. His mind was molded for video games, cartoons, and short, extreme bursts of serotonin. After the fiasco, life could be as simple as skipping a rock. To get those moments of happiness you have to work for it. You have to keep each other alive by working all day and rejoicing in the night with stomachs a quarter full (if you're lucky) and limbs unbitten.

The third weird thing that happened was a few hours after he wandered from the house. He had ended up not doing much; he climbed a tree for the hell of it, ate an apple from that same tree, and nearly fell asleep under the tree. Maybe he should have just stayed in bed, the almost-sleep would have been better. But then again he wouldn't have gotten that apple. And it was probably good for him to get some sunlight after being cooped up for the past few weeks. Y/N started to get antsy as Carl and the others should have been back at any second. He was nervous and excited; nervous to see if Carl and Rick came back, and excited to see them if they did.

He tried not to bother himself with 'ifs' as it didn't help. There was no point in saying 'if Carl came back' because he would; Carl promised. Y/N knew it was a childish way of thinking; in this world promises couldn't be kept just because they were said. You can promise to not get bitten by a walker, doesn't mean the walker cares before it chomps down on your flesh. It was because it came from Carl that Y/N disregarded rational thinking. Maybe he was love sick, maybe he was stupid.

It was the same 'ifs' that brought Ron to him, starting the strange interaction.

"Hi." Y/N looked up at him from under the tree, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Hey..." He was confused why Ron was talking to him. And then he was even more confused when he took a seat next to him.

"If the world never ended, what would you be doing right now?" Y/N was weirded out by the question. Why did it matter? He was 11 when it started, and it never ended. So here they were. There was no point of the 'if,' it just is what it is and now they have to deal with it. And that's what he told Ron.

"What does it matter? The world ended, there's no going back."

"I know, but I just wanted to get to know you a little better. You're not much of a talker, are you?" He smiled at him before his face turned to something Y/N couldn't place, almost like he came to a realization. "It's not because of Carl, is it? The reason you don't talk much?" Y/N was taken aback by the question. Did Ron really think Carl was abusing him or something?

"No, not at all. You don't even know us, how could you say that?" Ron could tell by the look on Y/N's face that he was appalled by what he asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. But just so you know, I'm here if you need to talk." And suddenly his hand was placed on Y/N's leg, scarily high above his knee. Y/N let Ron's hand fall when he stood up, uncomfortable with the situation. Ron stood too and they stared at each other for a moment.

Y/N couldn't react before an arm was wrapped around his shoulders and he was pulled into a hug. Being on the outside had given him reflexes for walkers, he was thankfully able to stop himself from reaching for his knife when he smelt the grime and sweat of his boyfriend.

"Carl-" He was only given time to breathe out his name before said boy's lips were on his. Y/N's arms came to wrap around Carl's torso while their lips stayed entwined. By the time Carl pulled away Y/N was flushed and gasping for air. It was by far the longest kiss Carl had ever given him in front of another person. Speaking of the other person, Ron was already gone when Y/N pulled himself from Carl's jealousy fueled embrace.

"What was that for!" Y/N was on the verge of giggles as the flush was replaced with a blush. He felt butterflies that he had missed so bad flutter around his stomach. The kiss made him feel as though they had just kissed for the first time ever. Those butterflies were an old friend of his from his early days crushing on Carl.

"I Don't know." He looked embarrassed and flushed under his sheriffs hat. "I'm sorry, I got jealous seeing Ron's hand on your leg." Y/N pulled Carl back into a hug, content in knowing that it wasn't just him that was getting jealous.

"It's okay. To be honest, yesterday I was feeling green about the way you were looking at Enid. I feel so stupid. I knew that you wouldn't do that to me but I couldn't help it." Another kiss was pressed against his hair.

"Yeah, I know you wouldn't do that to me either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: 2493

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Birthday Pie

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

SPOILERS! set between seasons 7 and 8 of supernatural, there are spoilers for both these seasons

summary: you celebrate his birthday even when he’s gone

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: sad, not at all a happy birthday for our beloved lil guy, language

author’s note: i’m sorry, okay? i’ve had this idea in my head for months and decided that today is a good day to release it? anyway, happy 45th birthday dean winchester! love you and very glad you’re alive and well and the series finale never happened! :)

January 24th, 2013 — Dean’s 34th Birthday.

You were barely able to drag yourself out of bed and into the living room where you were now seated and watching TV. It didn’t matter what was on, you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was completely focused on Dean. Your beloved Dean; who shouldn’t be wherever the fuck he was but instead safe in your arms.

He shouldn’t be spending his birthday terrified, missing you and his brother. He should be spending it with you, Sam, and Cas.

Sure, he wasn’t really the birthday party type of guy but each year since you met him you’d gotten him a pie and put candles in it for him to blow out. It’d started as a half-assed attempt to put a smile on his face when you learned it was his birthday and you couldn’t find a cake at the store.

He’d loved it.

“How’d you know I’d rather have pie?” he had asked, his face lighting up even more when you put two candles—a two and a four—in the center.

“I…had a feeling.” You had shrugged it off as not a big deal but deep down you both knew how much it meant to him.

And each year since then—come rain, shine, monsters, or the apocalypse—you made it your job to get Dean Winchester a pie on his birthday.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, joining the half-dried ones there already. You hadn’t been sad on Dean’s birthday since his year before hell. But it was different then, you had him next to you and you were savoring every second. You might have been terrified of what would soon happen, but you were still with him.

**

“If you’re not already aware, Dean,” Castiel started, “you turn thirty-four today.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “Cas we—”

“Granted time seems to be passing differently here, but on earth it is currently your birthday.”

“Happy birthday, brother,” Benny joked.

“Yeah real fuckin’ happy,” Dean scoffed. “We’re stuck killing our way through this fuckin’ nightmare while the love of my life is spending my birthday alone.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Dean,” Cas assured him. “She has Sam, he’ll look after her until we get back.”

“No, you don’t get it. Birthdays were…they were our thing, if that makes any goddamn sense.”

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you smiled, placing the pie in front of him.

“Twenty-six! God, that sounds old,” Dean laughed a little.

“You’re kidding right?” you asked after singing for him as he blew out the candles.

“What?”

“Twenty six may sound old to you, but trust me you are still fuckin’ adorable.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He grinned.

“You wanna do the honors, cutie?” you asked, handing him the kitchen knife.

“Gladly, sweetheart,” he said, taking it from you. You watched him cut a slice for you then an even bigger slice for himself.

“Dean,” you started as you watched him begin eating the pie. “I love you.”

He stopped eating and looked at you; “What?”

“I know there’s a lot about your life you haven’t told me, you’re lore you could call it, but I need you to know that I really do love you, Dean Winchester.”

“But how? I mean, I’m not exactly an open book and there’s no way…” he trailed off.

“No way, what?”

“There’s no way in hell you’d feel this way if you learned everything about me.”

Your heart broke at his words, and your expression definitely showed it.

“The amount of pure love I have for you is beyond measurable, Dean. And I might be crazy for saying this, and feeling this, but there is truly nothing you could say or do that would make me stop.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared to press his luck.

You nodded with a soft smile; “Really.”

“Well, look I’m not really one for…that…but I do…I do feel that way about you too. I guess what I’m saying is, uh, right back at cha?”

“See to any normal person that would sound like the ramblings of a crazy man,” you said, his smile only growing. “But to me? Absolute poetry.” You leaned over and kissed him. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He simply kissed you back, smiling against your lips.

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you whispered, blowing out the candles on the small pie you’d bought. It was a one-person pie because you knew if you bought a regular one that at least three-quarters would not have been eaten.

You took out the candles and picked up your fork. Staring down at the desert, you let more tears fall.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to eat a fuckin’ pie,” you laughed humorously. Your phone rang next to you and you answered it; “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he sighed. “I just wanted to call and check up on you. It being Dean’s birthday and all, I figured you might…you know…”

“Be huddled up in bed sobbing my eyes out?” you said.

“Yeah…”

“I’m holding it together Sammy, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“I always worry about you, you know that.”

There was a short pause in the conversation as you took a deep breath and let a few more tears fall; “I miss him, Sammy,” you admitted. “I just really miss him.”