#judith buckle

[sleepysuburb]

girls who r weird and off-putting 😍

[nahokura]

Judith Buckle post appreciation

[judith-buckle]

[nahokura]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THESE AGDHXHHS JUDITH AND ALVIN MY BABIES <333

"Oh, she's beautiful!"

Silly little drawings of Judith and Alvin. 🍀

By the way, I forgot to post this. I had a tiring day yesterday 😭 but here’s the handsome Mark ! ! 💙

(Happy bday, cute boii)

[inthe-dark-tonight]

three days too long

rick grimes x fem!reader

summery: you wake up to a surprise after rick comes back from a three day long supply run

word count: 1.8k

warnings: prison era, secret relationship, reader is down bad for rick (just like me), smut, p in v sex, light biting??? idk

notes: well……. i’ve been rewatching the walking dead so naturally my rick era has resurfaced and i’m not sorry. expect more to come. thank you to my love @joelsversion for reading this over for me ILYSM!!! <3

You’re not sure when he got back or how long you had been asleep before he quietly snuck past the white sheets covering the door to your cell.

Rick had been gone on a supply run for three days, not knowing it would take that long when he left alongside Daryl and Glenn. You spent those three days doing anything to keep your mind off him and where he was at. Taking watch in the tower with Maggie one morning, watching after Judith a few hours each day, tending to the gardens. None of it helped to keep your thoughts from drifting towards Rick.

You start to stir when you feel warmth pressed against your back, a large arm snaking under you to wrap around your waist, the other across your chest as you lay on your stomach. Warm breath fans over your neck, tickling you as a humming sound sends a vibration through you. At that moment you know it’s him. He’s finally back.

“Rick?” Your sleepy voice comes out barely a whisper as your eyes begin to flutter open.

The moonlight seeping in through the barred windows of the prison, filtering through the white sheets you keep up for a bit of privacy, creates enough light for you to make out his figure.

“Shhhh,” His deep voice sends a shiver down your back. “Missed you baby,” he whispers, lips lightly brushing over your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek.

You hum softly, nuzzling into your pillow and shifting to make yourself more comfortable. Your hips lift up from the bed, unintentionally pressing into Rick’s as he pulls you closer to him. He lets out a low groan before you lie still again, and you can feel his bulge starting to grow in his jeans.

“I missed you too.” You finally answer, turning your head over your shoulder to get a good look at him.

He must've washed up before coming to see you, you think to yourself. His face was clean for just coming back from a run, not a single smudge of dirt on his cheeks, his hair slightly damp where it curls around his neck and ears.

“Three days too long for you, hm?” He smiles and a deep chuckle escapes him before kissing your cheek once more.

You take in a deep breath, eyes falling shut. “Way too long.” You hum.

He continues kissing you, lips moving slowly down to your jaw, trailing down the side of your neck. The feeling of his beard against your soft skin tickles you, causing you to shrug your shoulders. A soft giggle leaves your lips as you try to wiggle away from him, causing him to hold you tighter.

“Mm mm, stay still.” He plants one last kiss on your shoulder before letting you go and shifting positions.

One arm holds him up, hovering above you, as the other reaches down for his belt buckle. The sound of his buckle coming undone sends heat straight to your core, and a second later you hear the sound of his zipper. You look down over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, a large hand wrapped around his fully erect cock as he pumps his fist a few times. When your eyes drift up to his, he’s already staring down at you, mouth parted and a hungry look on his face. You have to bite down, hard, on your bottom lip to suppress your moan.

This thing between you two hasn’t been going on for long, maybe a couple months at most. Ever since you first laid eyes on Rick, when he showed up at the camp in his sheriff's uniform over a year ago, you’ve been harboring a small crush. Even after finding out that same day that he was Lori’s supposedly dead husband, you couldn’t help yourself. And here you are now, trying to keep quiet, keep this thing a secret from the others. For now.

“Gonna stay quiet for me?” His head tilts to the side, eyes still locked on yours.

As soon as you nod your head, a silent promise, his hand releases his cock and finds its way to your shorts. He pulls them down along with your underwear, and the cool air hitting your already soaked cunt causes your hips to lift off the bed.

He leans back down, pressing his body against yours once again, his cock slipping between your legs and finding a spot between your wet folds as he positions himself. Both of his hands move to cover yours where they lay next to your head, intertwining his fingers with yours before slowly moving his hips back and forth, cock sliding effortlessly between your folds.

His lips are back at your ear as he slowly rocks back and forth, covering his length with your juices. “Three days was too long for me, too.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, walls clenching in anticipation. Rick rocks his hips, once, twice more through your folds before pulling all the way back, tip catching at your entrance.

“Rick,” you sigh. “Need you.”

“I know, baby.” He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, breathing you in before slowly thrusting fully into you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you bite your cheek, trying to hold back any noises. Once you're full he stills for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching you before he moves again. As he slowly pulls out, you can hear how wet you are.

“Shit.” Rick mumbles into your hair, moving one of his hands to grip at your waist.

Gently, he tilts your hips up, holding them there as he thrust back in. A soft moan escapes you, and you quickly stop yourself, biting at your lower lip harder than before. Rick doesn't say anything, instead he starts to quicken his pace, letting out soft groans as he fucks into you.

You reach your free hand back and bury your fingers in the dark curls at the back of his head, tugging at them lightly. He lets out a low grunt, muffled by your hair where his face is buried in your neck.

Rick lifts his head up, staring down at you with a slack jaw as he continues his deep thrusts. Although it’s quite dark in your cell, you can make out the beads of sweat starting to form around his temples, causing a few stray hairs to stick to his forehead. The moonlight creates a white glow around him, he’s pretty. You’ve thought that from the start, but especially like this. Panting above you as he thrusts his cock deep inside you, stifling the moans that threaten to escape his pink lips.

He leans down, tilting his head so his lips are less than an inch away from yours. You tilt your head up, brushing your nose against his as his eyes fall shut and he leans in to press his lips to yours. Immediately his tongue is asking for entrance, pushing past your lips and intertwining with your own. He hums, his chest vibrating against you as your lips move in sync.

The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as he hits all the right spots inside you, his thrusts never faltering. He holds your hips at the perfect angle, hitting you at just the right spot with each thrust. You pull your lips away from his for a moment, catching your breath as his forehead presses against yours.

“‘M close.” You say between breaths.

“Let me feel you.” His blue eyes look back into yours, desire swimming within them.

His hand leaves your hip, hooking his fingers under your jaw as his thumb rests on your lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly before kissing you. His other hand lets go of yours where he’s holding it against the mattress, lightly brushing over the back of your neck to move your hair out of the way. Both of his rough hands rest on your shoulders as he places kisses on the back of your neck.

The sensation of his lips against your damp skin sends heat straight to your core, causing you to clench around his length as you fight the urge to cry out. You tug at his hair, harder this time, trying to pull him closer if it’s even possible. He lets out a low whine, sinking his teeth lightly into the skin at your shoulder, leaving an open mouthed kiss over the small mark left there as he plunges into you one last time. Your body stiffens, eyes squeezing shut as a white hot feeling shoots through you, the coil in your core finally coming undone.

“Ri-“ before you can finish crying out his name, his hand quickly covers your mouth.

You whimper as he presses his hand lightly against your mouth, your own hand quickly moving to grip his forearm as your walls flutter around him, drenching his cock. Your eyes squeeze shut as he continues to rock his hips back and forth, holding you tightly against himself as your orgasm washes over you. A deep muffled sigh leaves you as your body starts to relax, and you feel his thrusts start to slow down before he quickly pulls out, lifting himself off of you and aiming at the edge of the cot.

Through heavy lids you watch him, trying to catch your breath as you roll onto your side. He’s sat on the edge of the bed now, buttoning his pants as your eyes trace over his silhouette. When he looks back down at you, a small smirk grows on his face. He pushes his damp hair out of his face with his large hand and shakes his head back and forth before leaning down, only inches from your face.

“You better hope they didn’t hear you.” He says in a sarcastic tone, hand resting on your cheek as he kisses your lips softly.

A smile forms on your lips as he pulls away, then he stands up to fix his pants. As he slowly heads towards the doorway, he fastens his buckle. You quickly shoot up, sitting up right in your bed now.

“Wait!” You whisper.

He quickly turns towards you, a concerned look on his face as he looks over your form.

“Stay.” It’s not a question, and he knows that.

He nods his head, pausing for a moment before walking back towards the single cot. You turn towards the wall as he climbs in behind you, the springs beneath the mattress pad squeaking as he does so. When his arm wraps around you, you scoot closer so his warm chest is pressed against your back. He nuzzles into the back of your neck, burying his nose into your hair as you let out a content sigh, eyes falling shut as you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Missed you so much.” He whispers, barely loud enough to hear before you both fall asleep.

thank you for reading <3 this is also posted on my ao3 - pale_m00nlight

also if anyone would like to follow my twd sideblog where i only reblog and talk about the walking dead and my love for rick grimes…. feel free to follow me @scary-divine :))) 🤍

[gatheringbones]

[“It was only after I came out as a dyke that, for the first time in my life, I felt ready to celebrate being a girl, and I did. Actually, I overdid. Armed with Esther Newton’s Mother Camp, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, and Joan Nestle’s A Restricted Country, I embraced femme. I dressed up in short flowery dresses, pushup bras, satin panties, and lacy stockings. I paid great attention to my long, curly, perfectly-coiffed hair, my glamorous makeup, and especially my pouty lips. I spritzed Lola’s smell on my skin—Estee Lauder’s Private Collection—and painted my nails. I wore all of it with black combat boots and a brilliant sense of irony. I reveled in my girliness, went over the top, learned how to tweeze my eyebrows and line my lips with a lip pencil.

My gender presentation was unmistakable: blatant female sexuality. I was a proud, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners, uppity, don’t-assume-I’m-straight-because-I-wear-lipstick-and-dresses femme dyke. Because femmes are always assumed to be straight or sleeping with men, and I do sleep with men, I made sure to always have a butch on my arm so I’d be read as femme. Even though I was sure I’d be mistaken for straight, the boys took one look at me and steered clear. It was as if I was too much of a woman for them to handle, like I was a handful, and I was. But butch girls love a handful—a handful of tits, a handful of ass, a girl who needs to be handled, a girl who can handle herself.

How I figured out I was a femme had a lot to do with the women I was attracted to and the dynamic between us. When I was in junior high, I used to mess around with a friend of mine named Angela. Angela was one of those girls who developed early; I remember she had big breasts in like sixth grade. We mostly kissed and touched over clothes, and we played out various boy-girl scenarios. I was always the girl—my early femme roots. My favorite of all our little scenes was the one where she was my male boss and I was the secretary. The boss made me have sex with him and told me if I didn’t I would get fired. Now this was all before Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill and the media awareness/obsession with sexual harassment. I remember she’d tell me to suck her dick and push my face unmercifully into her crotch, which smelled amazing,. The drama of it all—the force, the degradation, the power games—really got me off. After that, there was no going back to simplicity. I was hooked on the power.

Jen really epitomized all the girls I was attracted to then and still am. Being with a butch girl, I was valued for my combination of strength and vulnerability, for dressing up, for wanting an arm to hold onto, hips to wrap my legs around, being able to give my body over to her and say, I trust you, I’m yours. My butch loved me in low-cut dresses, appreciated my sexual voraciousness, worshipped my inner slut. I reveled in the fact that I could be strong and submissive all at once. Surrender and still be a feminist. Being a dyke is not just about who I fuck and love, it’s about being a girl who doesn’t play by the rules.

Butch girls don’t play by the rules either, and I love butch girls. Girls with hair so short you can barely slide it between two fingers to hold on. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts and shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger. Girls who have dicks made of flesh and silicone and latex and magic. Girls who get stared at in the ladies room, girls who shop in the boy’s department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been touching my body their entire lives. Girls who have big cocks, love blow-jobs, and like to fuck girls hard. Every day, it is the girls that get called Sir that make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws that buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender that make me want to lie down for them.

Someone else said it about me recently and it’s right on target: “She gets off on all different sorts of people sexually, but she falls for butches.” Like the poet who bought her first strap-on with me and then wanted to sleep with it on. The shrink-in-training who got harassed every time she drove down South. She did look so much like a fifteen-year-old boy: blue button-down shirts, neatly-combed blond hair. The ad exec who had names for her dildos and used to love for me to spit-shine her wingtips. The photographer whose face was so mannish she could pass almost anywhere. The writer who wanted a body like Loren Cameron’s. The telephone repairwoman who drove a truck. The cook who had a boy’s name. The academic who got cruised by gay men on Castro Street. The cornfed farmboy from the Heartland with arms so hard and strong you swear they’ve been working the land, not the iron at the gym.

And there’s the one who’s got the James Dean stare down, and dresses like a clean-cut fag, and looks at me like she could look at me forever and never blink or grow tired or move from the spot she’s in. She’s a girl who loves girls like me—girls in velvet bras, girls who want to surrender to her mouth. She’s a girl who isn’t afraid to throw a femme down on the bed and fuck her. Possess her. My kind of girl. This girl is different.”]

tristan taormino, from this girl is different, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf! Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 2,672

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of Rick's abdomen (awooga), flirting?

Chapter 2: Welcome Home

The train ride seemed to go by at lightspeed while you let your mind swirl around Rick Grimes. As you pulled into the King County station you took a few calming breaths and got your shit together, prepping to see Mr. Grimes again. Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick. BE NORMAL. Judith stirred, then stretched, taking a peek outside, “Oh good, we survived!”. You chuckled and stood to retrieve your bags. The trek through the train and to the front of the station felt a million miles long. Why were you getting so worked up about this middle-aged single father? You hadn’t ever been that into older guys. There was just something about him…

You need to reel it in, you reminded yourself. You repeated it like a mantra in your head over and over and over: reel it in, reel it in, reel it in, reel- HONK! You nearly jumped out of your skin at the car horn. “Damn it, Dad!” Judith screeched, nearly dropping her bag in surprise. She laughed at herself as you followed her to the big green Ford parked across the street. Be normal Be normal Be normal. You could see him behind the wheel, laughing and shaking his head. Oh god. Judith looks back at you, “He thinks he’s a comedian.” The driver's door opened and Rick's cowboy boots appeared. Then his denim-clad legs. His brown belt and shiny belt buckle. The gun on his hip. He slammed the door closed. While the action only took him about 2 seconds, it was like a slow-motion movie scene to you. You were mesmerized. Rick wore a flannel shirt and a thick brown fleece-lined police jacket over it. He walked to the side of the truck, his hands on his hips, head cocked. “‘Scuse me girls but have you seen my daughter anywhere? She’s ‘bout… mmm let's say yea high?” He raised his hand up to roughly oompa loompa height before Judith was upon him, swatting his hand away. “Shut it.” she retorted. “Hello to you too, kid” He chuckled wrapping her in a big hug. They parted and Judith opened the backseat to stuff her suitcase inside. The butterflies in your stomach were swarming now, building up to an explosion. Rick looked over to you with a smile. Fuck. You were unable to stop yourself.

“Hi Rick!!” you blurted excitedly.

You began mentally punching yourself in the face.

I guess it wasn’t that bad. No, it was bad, you thought to yourself, you just harpy shrieked at him. He raised an eyebrow and laughed, “Well it’s nice that somebody’s happy to see me.” Oh my god. Luckily the cold air had already given you rosy cheeks, so your embarrassed blush was pretty much concealed; but you were almost certain that Rick could tell. You could’ve sworn that he gave you just the tiniest funny look, one that you couldn’t quite place. Judith had already shoved her suitcase inside and you went to do the same. It was a bit difficult to fit yours next to hers in the already small backseat. You put your foot up on the side and pushed with all your might before a jacketed arm reached out from behind you and shoved Judith's suitcase to the side, allowing yours to slip in perfectly. You turn to find Rick just a few inches behind you. So close that, momentarily, you felt the heat radiating from his body. “There ya go,” he says, letting out a little huff of air as he pushes the suitcases in further, revealing a seat for you. “Oh- thanks” you say, frozen. He nodded (and there was that look again!) before walking around to the driver's seat. You climbed inside, and as you buckled yourself in, it dawned on you exactly what type of look that was. 

It was the type that all guys do when they know- - - they’re making you nervous. 

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

And he was doing it on purpose. 

You gripped your thighs, digging your nails in, as you felt a warm tingling sensation build in your lower stomach. No. No. No. You had to be misreading this. You had to be.

~~~

Before long the heater was blasting and Judith was reading her Hamlet essay to Rick, his eyebrows all knit up, trying to follow. You had been zoned out for the past few minutes, trying to get your shit together. There was no way. No way. You had to be wrong. You shoved down that little voice inside, telling you what you knew you wanted to hear, and took a deep breath. You distracted yourself by listening to Judith, even though you had heard the essay upwards of 15 times back in the dorms. Upon her use of the word “anagnorisis”, the reflection of Rick's eyes in the rearview mirror flashed up and caught your gaze. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly as if to say “What is she talking about?” You let out a little laugh, it was a pretty academically dense essay, and he cracked a smile, chuckling to himself. “What?” Judith stopped, looking between you both. For some reason it made the two of you laugh more, “Anagnorisis is a real word people! I used it correctly!... I’m pretty sure. I got a 93% on this essay, so laugh all you want! Whatever” she rolled her eyes humorously, crossing her arms. Rick took in a deep breath, quieting his laughter but still smiling, “Well honey, gun to my head I couldn’t tell ya what that word means, so you must be doin' something right…” Then added, grumbling “But it sounded like a 100% essay to me, nothing 93% about that.” As he said this, Rick spun the wheel and the truck turned into a short driveway.

The house was fairly large and white, definitely Southern style with a wrap-around porch. It was old, but in the best way where it immediately feels like home. Rick got both of your bags out of the backseat and carried them up to the porch with ease. You followed behind Judith, taking in the yard and exterior of the house. There was only an inch or two of snow on the ground and someone had clearly tried and failed to make a snowman. You guessed it was Carl. Golden shining Christmas lights decorated the lip of the roof and wrapped around the two banisters of the steps. You all tapped your shoes on the last step, shaking off the snow/mud. The ancient-looking wreath on the door shook as Rick led the way inside. You were greeted with a wave of toasty warm air, homey was the best way to put it. The house was a little messy, toys strewn about, an overfilled laundry basket waiting to be washed, and what appeared to be the leftovers of a blanket fort in the living room. Rick set down your bags, calling out “Carl! Come say hello to your sister!” He stumbled over some shoes in the entryway then sighed, turning to you “Damn it…welcome to the Grimes estate y/n. Didn’t get a chance to clean.” You snicker, stepping over the shoes and toys, “If you think this is bad you shoulda seen where I grew up.” You surprised yourself with your candor. You rarely mention your home if you could help it, but you found yourself wanting to spill your guts to Rick. Like he would understand everything. Make you feel better. Safe. Jesus Christ!!!!

Luckily your brain shut up at the sound of thundering little feet on the stairs. Carl emerged and ran over to his sister, nearly jumping on top of her. “Judith!” he exclaimed, “Carl!” Judith echoed over-enthusiastically, hugging him. Carl started talking a mile a minute, “I got a new comic book from Nana today, it's so awesome! It was an early Christmas present-” Rick interrupted Carl, carrying your bags towards the stairs, “It was not an early Christmas present, it was s’posed to go under the tree, but someone snuck into the mail ‘fore I even saw it.” He had his hands on his hips again, giving Carl a sly look. Carl looked at his feet, concealing a smile. Judith ruffled his hair, “Well it’s a good thing Santa already put you on the nice list this year, or else you mighta been in big trouble.” Rick picked up the bags and headed up the stairs. Carl gave a little eye roll, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it.” Judith chuckled then turned to you. “Carl, this is my roommate y/n,” she said. “Hi Carl, I’ve heard so much about you!” You said with a smile. “Hi. Do you like comic books?” he replied, in that straight-to-the-point way that kids do. “Sure I do,” you responded. Carl beamed, “Okay good, then both of you can come see my new comic! Follow me.” He headed up the stairs, you and Judith exchanged a look and chuckled, following Carl. At the top of the stairs, you asked to quickly use the bathroom and Judith directed you down the hall, “There’s a bathroom attached to your room, it’s all yours. I have to share mine with this animal,” she nodded her head towards Carl who scampered towards his room. You walked down the short hallway toward your room, studying the photos on the wall. Carl's school picture, Judith's graduation, some drawings, and an old photo of Rick holding baby Judith. You studied it for a moment. He was younger of course, clean-shaven, his hair more tamed, but his eyes still sparkled the same way. Honestly, you preferred him the way he is now. A little more rugged, more knowing. Damn, it was sexy. This was all running through your head as you entered the open door to your room, only to stop short.

Rick was in your room.

But he didn’t notice you. He was reaching for something on the top shelf of the closet. His arms stretched just enough to lift the hem of his flannel, revealing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Time seemed to slow down. You felt like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. You swear to god you almost drooled, your eyes locked on the sliver of belly until it was gone. He had turned around and was now looking at you. Before you could say anything, he apologized, “Sorry y/n, I meantta get the bed all made up ‘fore you got here, but I guess it slipped my mind.” It was only then that you realized he was holding a stack of sheets, retrieved from the closet. “O-oh, it’s- it is totally fine. I can do it. Thanks. Thank you,” you stuttered hopelessly. Rick ignored your protests, walking over to the naked mattress. He fanned out the fitted sheet and began tucking it into the left corner. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, his forearms hypnotizing you as he lifted the corner of the mattress. You still stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching him until you sprang to life. “Let me help,” you said quickly, walking past your suitcase, which he had so kindly delivered to your room. You tucked in the opposite corner sheet. Then he did the bottom. Then you did the bottom. Then he fanned out the top sheet. You caught the other end and the two of you brought it fluttering down on top of the fitted sheet. As you brought the sheet down you made fleeting eye contact, which immediately made you crave death just as much as it made you want to jump his bones.

NO. No, you didn't want that, who said that? Not me, you thought to yourself.

You decided gaslighting yourself was the only way to stay sane this winter break. You flattened out the ripples in the top sheet together, and you tried not to yelp when your hands brushed past each other. This entire time you were working in silence. Should you say something? Would it be weird to say something at this point? Unable to stand the silence you scanned your brain for an appropriate thing to say. You both began stuffing pillows into their cases. “I just want to say, thank you for letting me stay here. I-I know it’s probably an imposition-” he cut you off, “No imposition. You’re welcome here anytime.” The matter-of-fact way he said it made it feel like this was the final word on the situation. You were wanted. You weren’t an imposition or a burden in his eyes. “Well- thank you anyway. I think it’ll be really fun. Staying here. I mean, like, y’know getting to know Judith's town and, uh, more about her and… yeah,” Jesus Christ. He smiled to himself as he pulled another pillowcase on,

“You're right. We’ll have lotsa fun.”

Oh? Oh. Oh my god. You felt like you had whiplash. Just a few words and you were at a loss, frozen, as he stacked the pillows up. You slowly pulled the rest of the pillowcase around your pillow, going over and over what he just said in your mind. Did he mean that the way you heard it? He had to. He had to have meant it that way. NO. NO. NO. He did not mean it that way. It was a polite response. But the INTONATION! You argued with yourself. You said you thought it would be fun, all he said is that it will be fun… Fuck he totally meant it that way oh my god oh my god oh my god- “Do you run cold?” He was looking at you, one hand on his hip. You blinked at him. “What?” He smiled playfully at you. At your near catatonic state. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Do you get cold? In the night. I’m just wonderin’ if ya need another blanket is all.” You caught on incredibly slowly, dumbly looking down at the two quilts he had laid out on the bed. Was there a correct answer? “Uh. I do. Kinda,” you put eloquently. “Figured. It gets real cold in the guest room anyhow, I’ll go get ya another,” he didn’t give you a second to process his words before he breezed right past you back down the hallway. Alone for a moment, you took a shaky breath, setting down the pillow you were still vice-gripping. You slumped onto the bed, raking your hands through your hair. The tingling sensation resumed from earlier. The tension, in your mind or not, was becoming unbearable. You pressed your thighs together as your mind swam.

Rick re-entered with a thick dark green knitted blanket, you felt warmer just looking at it. “Try that,” he stated, tossing it to you. You catch it, feeling its heft, and rub the fibers together in your hands, “It feels nice,” you murmur. “I’ll let ya borrow it til you go back, but don’t get any funny ideas about taking it back with you. That one there’s my favorite,” he said with a smile, his arms crossed. He gave you his favorite blanket. Shut up he’s just being hospitable. “Thank you.” He nodded, and with that, he was gone. It was like the lights died out in the room. You immediately feel his absence in your chest. You wanted to chase after him, even just to talk about the weather. Anything. Instead, you stroked the blanket he gave you. It smelled of him. Not just his cologne, but him. Before you knew it you were holding the blanket to your face, deeply inhaling, imagining him all around you. His strong arms, wide rough hands, that smile of his. You imagined you were combing your fingers through his thick head of hair. You wanted him desperately. Jesus, you felt like a creep. 

You let the blanket fall back to your lap. 

To your surprise, Rick Grimes was standing in the doorway again, that fucking look on his face.

“Meant to tell ya, dinners at 7” He turned on his heel and was gone. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. 

***

notes: thank u all for ur support on the first part! I hope this satiates you all for now while I finish part three <3

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Hi there! I really * love * your writing and would like to request a Daryl x fem!reader story.

Set in 10x11, reader takes care of Daryl after he returns from his fight with Alpha. The reader treats the wounds (leg, face, bruises). They also might talk about Carol's odd behavior and are worried about her.

Then it's about getting ready to fight the herd and the Whisperers, not knowing if they'll survive the night. They probably also have a daughter and they're worried about her, Judith' and RJ's safety.

There could be fluff, a spark of hope or even smut (carefully because of his injuries, of course) or anything like that.

I would love to read that 😊 xx

I am the Mess You Chose

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Hilltop (Whisperers Era)

Warnings: Injuries; Medical treatment

A/N: I really tried with this, Anon. I hope I did okay. I think it went more angsty than I had intended. Still, I hope you enjoy. I also really love Daryl giving the reader the nickname Pip, short for pipsqueak. It just resonates with me, so I hope my little bit of self indulgence is okay.

*gif is not mine

You were speaking with Luke and Yumiko when you heard the familiar rumble of Daryl’s bike, turning toward the gate with Aspen on your hip. Her cries of dada dada dada accompanied the clapping of her little hands while your husband rode through with Lydia on the back of the bike. You could instantly see that something wasn’t right. 

“Any sign of them?” Yumiko reached them first, not waiting until the motorcycle had even been shut off. Daryl was looking down, avoiding the light.

“We didn’t get that far.” He grumbled while Lydia dismounted. Kelly stepped forward next, looking concerned but whether it was for Daryl or who he didn’t bring back, you couldn’t be sure. You were handing Aspen off to Jerry with a quick please watch her before you moved past everyone. Daryl was struggling to get off the bike, grunting and instantly keeping the weight off his left leg. “We gotta talk.”

“Not you.” You interjected, dragging his arm over your shoulders. “Lydia, can you handle the details?” The girl nodded. You gave Jerry another glance and received a nod before he had little Aspen waving at you and Daryl, who put on a brave face for his daughter until you were out of sight. He made a noise in the back of his throat the moment the two of you stepped across the threshold, both legs nearly buckling beneath him. “I gotcha. Downstairs bedroom, just a little further.” You shook your head at someone who appeared to be close to addressing Daryl and jerked your chin toward the front door in a silent request for them to shut it. “Can you open the bedroom door, Daryl?”

“Yeah.” He rasped, fumbling for the knob before finally grasping it and shoving the door open. It was a bit of a challenge but you eventually got him to the bed and let him sink down on the edge of the mattress. “Hey, Pip.” He offered you the smallest of smiles while looking up at you, your fingers brushing his hair away from the substantial laceration above his eye.

“Don’t hey, Pip me, Daryl Dixon! What happened?” You admonished, continuing your assessment and finding more injuries on his torso but his leg, that was where your worry spiked. His pants were stiff with dried blood, the bandages lined at the top with a tightly bound piece of fabric. A tourniquet, you surmised. 

“Found Alpha. Tried to find out where they were.” He leaned back on his hands, his upper body swaying.

“I see how well that conversation went.” You deadpanned.

He responded at first with a hum. “Lydia found me. S’half dead. She dragged my sorry ass outta there, patched me up good ‘nough to get back.” Daryl jolted, the bandages sticking to his skin as you unwound them from the wound. You’d need to grab some antibiotics for sure. Knife wound, deep. The bleeding had all but stopped thanks to the tourniquet, but you felt sick at the thought of how easily the femoral artery could have been nicked. How quickly he would have bled out. “Was gonna leave it.”

“What?” You looked up to find him watching you. He nodded toward his leg.

“Alpha’s knife. Was gonna leave it. Knew better’an to pull it out, but she followed me. Drew in three walkers. Had to use it.” You stared at him levelly, not relenting when he reached to trace a finger down your jaw. “S’good to see your face, Pip. An' baby girl’s. For a minute there—for a minute, I thought I wasn’t comin’ back.” 

“Remind me to thank Lydia after I throttle the hell out of you for going alone.” You stepped out of the room for the suture kit, more antiseptic and bandages. “How long has this been on?” You motioned toward the tourniquet with the suture kit.

“Few hours.”

Slamming the kit onto the mattress, your head followed it with a groan. “I’ll have to do an IV, Daryl. We need to do a bolus of fluids to flush out the toxins building up where the blood isn’t flowing.” You weren’t mad, not really. You were redirecting your fear into something that wouldn’t have you a trembling mess while trying to stitch up your husband’s damn near fatal wound.

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m—” You sighed and knelt next to his leg to clean the wound thoroughly. “I’m just glad you’re here. Safe. And in one piece.” You tilted your head. “More or less.” It always hurt your heart to tend to his injuries, not just knowing the wound itself was painful, but knowing it would just add to the collection of scars he had accumulated throughout his life. He didn’t seem so bothered by them anymore but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching him gather them like tattoos. 

The two of you were quiet as you stitched, not a single word until you tied off the last one and clipped the remaining thread. You placed the used materials in the wastebasket and stepped out of the room, jogging down to the medical unit for IV supplies, antibiotics, and fluids. People were moving about hastily but you’d find out why later. You had to take care of your husband first. Arms full, you detoured to find Jerry. He was on the ground with Aspen, her little arms flailing around as she stood in front of him, telling the world’s tallest tale. The man caught your eye and nodded. You mouthed a thank you and continued back to the house. There must have been something he was needed for, but you were keeping him from it. 

Daryl was lying down when you returned, an arm thrown across his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping, the rhythmic tapping of each finger against his thumb a tell tale sign that he was anxious. You needed to find out what was going on, why everyone was bustling about in waves, though you had an inkling. You were just hoping to be wrong.

Clearing your throat, you entered the room. “You really pulled a Carol yesterday, you know.”

“That ain’t funny.” He huffed, lifting his arm slightly. He looked so exhausted and pale. 

“It wasn’t intended to be, love.” He just happened to be shielding his eyes with the arm you needed, but didn’t fight you when you pulled it down to lie straight at his side and rolled up the sleeve. Placing the rubber tourniquet above his elbow, you started palpating for a vein, glancing up at him every few seconds. “She’s not doing so hot, is she?”

“Nah. She ain't.” He replied quietly. He didn’t flinch when you slid the needle in, getting a good return before removing the tourniquet and popping the needle back to leave the catheter behind. “Worried ‘bout her.”

“I know.” You straightened the tubing and connected it to the bags you hung on the headboard, open the line to start the flow of fluids and antibiotics. “I’m gonna take the tourniquet from your leg. It’s not gonna feel great.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Done this dance a million times, Pip.” 

You nodded and circled the bed, grabbing the scissors from the medical kit on your journey. You positioned the blades before glancing up at your husband. He was staring at the ceiling, but you knew where his head was.

“Are you angry with her?” Snip. Daryl grunted and clenched his fists, the circulation returning in a painful spiral throughout the injured limb.

“Yeah. Yeah, m’fuckin’ angry with her.” He snapped quietly, nostrils flaring. “Keeps takin’ off half-cocked, gettin’ herself hurt, gettin’ other people—” His mouth snapped shut into a thin line, his left arm coming up to cover his eyes that time. 

“Connie.” You supplied. You knew Daryl had taken a liking to the woman. She radiated confidence and positivity and just life. Your husband had grabbed onto that with both hands and held fast, pulling her into your little family. You both adored her. You didn’t blame Carol per se, but she did hold some of the responsibility for Connie’s—disappearance. “Daryl.”

“What?” He huffed, his irritation not directed at you. You knew him better than that.

“What if it were Aspen?” He jerked his arm away from his eyes so quickly that you flinched, knowing he was about to yell at you for even suggesting such a thing. “Stop. It’s a horrible thought, I know. But take how just that thought makes you feel and multiply it by infinity, my love. That is where Carol’s heart is right now and her head can’t even try to keep up with it.”

“That ain’t—she just—” His chin was wobbling, an inner war raging behind his stormy blue eyes.

Grabbing some butterfly stitches, gauze, and alcohol, you crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged by his shoulder. When you began to dab at the wound on his forehead, his face fell and his defeated gaze found your steady one. 

“I’m not saying she’s right, love. I’m just saying maybe she’s not wrong either.” You said nothing else until you had closed the wound with the strips and leaned forward to place a kiss between his eyes. “You two will get through this. You always find a way.” With a sniff and a deep breath, Daryl nodded. You were unbuttoning his shirt to tend to the other wounds when you yourself inhaled deeply, eyes flashing up to your husband’s face. “I need you to tell me what’s happening out there.”

“Be here by nightfall. Still gives us a bit to get ready.”

You stood at Daryl’s side against the upstairs bannister while everyone below scurried about with weapons and supplies. 

“You’re sure all the roads are blocked?” You tapped your fingers against the wood nervously.

“You were on one of them roads yourself, Pip. Ya saw it. They got ‘em all.” The archer’s bandaged hand covered yours to still your anxious movements. “Listen, I wantcha with the kids.” Your eyes were already watching your daughter on the carpet downstairs with Judith and RJ, but your attention snapped toward him before he could finish speaking.

“No.”

“Ain’t a request. Wantcha to—”

“No, Daryl.” You snapped, pulling your hand away. “This bitch has taken from all of us. I’m gonna be right beside you, on the frontlines.”

“Nah, need ya to stay away from this. Need to know that Aspen’s with ‘er mama, that Jude an’ RJ have ya there to protect 'em.” You were shaking your head with every word, but he didn’t stop. “Can’t fight out there not knowin’ my family’s safe as they can get.”

“And I can’t sit in here knowing my husband is out there fighting without me.” You gestured to the whole of him. “Fighting when he’s already beaten all to hell!” “Just do this for me, Pip. Take care’a our kids. If somethin’ happens to me, baby girl, Jude, an’ RJ’re gonna need ya.” Daryl brushed your hair behind your ear and placed his hand on your cheek. Your eyes were wet with frustration and hopelessness and worry and grief. 

“Goddamn you, Daryl Dixon.” Your head fell forward against his chest, sniffling until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you there while you pulled yourself together. He was right, and you knew it. Your daughter couldn’t lose both of her parents to that monster. Jude and RJ couldn’t lose what family they had left. “Alright. I’ll stay back with the kids.” Daryl kissed your forehead.

“M’gonna talk to Zeke. If one’a us goes down, the other’ll come for you an’ the kids, okay?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Y/N, I’m just—”

“No, don’t talk like you’re not coming back to me.” You didn’t let him speak again before your mouth was on his, your hands in his hair while his squeezed your waist. “You are coming back to me.” You were walking him backwards toward one of the empty rooms, careful of his injury and accommodating his limp. 

“M’comin’ back.” He spoke quietly against your mouth, letting you unbutton his shirt before he could even manage to start shutting the door. “Always will.”

[itsgrimeytime]

I Told You Now || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Part 2

AVAILABLE ON AO3

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

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

TWs: angst, jealousy, yelling, anger, crying, cursing, mention of fainting, not really unrequited love (you just don't know that yet) and vague references to infidelity (Jessie to her husband).

[[A/N: This song came up on my old playlist, and let me tell ya... I had some thoughts. This might be a two-parter, we shall see. Enjoy <3]]

"Hey, Mags," you hummed -Judith bouncing on your hip, "-where's Rick? I've been trying to find him all da-"

Maggie froze for a second, and you stilled -tightening your grip on Judith. Was there danger? Was everything okay? Your eyes swung around to see if there was anything unusual, anything dangerous-

Your eyes caught on something.

It was Rick, wearing his constable uniform (which you blindly noted suited him really well), and talking to a woman. You knew her name, Jessie, he'd talked about her before -said her husband was a real piece of shit. Everyone within Alexandria apparently knew that, but Rick was the only one to do anything about it.

At the time, you thought it was heroic of him, something Rick would do.

But now...

Your eyes skimmed across his face, across the intent of his blue eyes. There was something there, something you knew. You're not sure if it's the way he stood, or the smooth smile slipped onto his lips, or the way he looked down when he laughed at her -whatever she said, but-

"Why don't you just come inside?"

You barely heard it, something in your chest sinking -heavy. Your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt like every breath took everything out of your lungs, like your whole world was teetering on an edge. And Rick Grimes held it in his hands.

And he was... he was throwing it around, he wasn't even careful-

"Y/N," she continued, and you could hear her but there was something in you that couldn't move.

How long had this been happening? A married woman, really?

You knew her husband was terrible, scum of the Earth-

"Y/N," she warned, gently.

But her?

Why hadn't he ever told you? Why did you ever think that it was different now?

What were you to him? Just a goddamn babysitter?

The hope that had gathered up in your chest was snuffed out, just like the crumbling of your heart. You'd always knew it would come to this, you just weren't ready.

"Y/N," she stressed -trying to gain your focus, "-come on-"

Something in your stomach twisted, sour.

Tossing like a tide, you swayed in place. Your head was getting fuzzy and your eyes were bleary. Your ears felt like they were stuffed, all the voices so far away-

You took a languid blink.

With a breath, you pushed Judith into Maggie's arms -ensuring her safety. And with that, your knees buckled underneath you.

You fell to the ground.

You remember hearing Maggie scream, hearing the rush of footsteps -slapping along the ground. You remember hearing him then too, but something in you soured -you tried so hard to block it out. Ignore it.

"What the hell happened?"

It made your head pound again, made your brain swim. You squeezed your eyes closed like it would bring you some relief, anything-

"Y/N?" A voice offered, you recognized it to be Maggie's, "-are you awake?"

You shifted ever so slightly, eyes blinking open. The first thing you noticed was the bandage along your head, had you hit your head? Your fingers shifted to touch it-

Maggie grabbed your wrist, stopping the motion, "That'll hurt. You hit your head when you... Doctor says it might give you some headaches for a while."

You realized then, you were in a bed -distinctly not yours. You knew the woody smell anywhere, your eyes darted along the nightstands, almost to confirm -an old picture of him, Lori, and Carl. Something in you winced, and not because of your head.

"Told 'im to give us a minute," she revealed, "-I said you'd want to be in your own house, but he insisted."

The apology went unsaid.

"'S okay," you slurred a little, you weren't sure if it was from the pain or the sleep, "-not your fault, Maggie."

"Still," she echoed -something in her protective, "-I won't leave 'im alone with you, I promise."

You laughed a little, "Grimes is gonna do it anyway, we both know that. Hell, maybe I'll finally tell him."

"Because of..."

It again went unsaid, you weren't sure you could say it out loud either.

"How-" you cleared your throat, "-Do you know how long...?"

Maggie sighed -picking at the white comforter, "A few weeks at most, me and Glenn only caught onto it that long. But I don't... I don't know."

"How can I be so pissed-" you cried -tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-I don't deserve to be pissed. How would he even know?"

"Y/N, you can be pissed," she interrupted, wrapped your hands into hers, "-It's not just you. Everyone thought- You aren't delusional. He was... There was something."

"Apparently not," you retorted -bluntly.

"Don't," she frowned, getting something to wipe at your eyes, "-Don't do that to yourself, you couldn't have known better."

"I should've known better," you echoed out -sniffling, "-I'm so stupid. I told myself to n-"

The door swung open.

Rick stood there -less composed than you saw him before. You inwardly flinched at the notion of... before. His hair was a bit unruly like he'd been running his hands through it -he did that when he was worried. You knew that. His jacket (constable jacket) was tossed off, a frown creased on his lips and worry on his brow. He looked at you -unflinchingly.

"I thought I 'eard ya cryin'," he spoke, seemingly to confirm to himself, "-does it hurt? Do I need to go get some medicine? Doc said-"

"No," you interrupted -plainly, wiping at your eyes, "-I'm fine, Rick. Actually-"

You pulled yourself out from under the comforter, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. It felt like you were suffocating in here -all you could smell was him, all you could see was him, all you could feel was him. It wasn't fair.

You needed some air, like now.

"-I'm gonna go home," you finished, looking to Maggie to help you get onto your feet (you were still a little dizzy).

"You can't-" he seemed to respond, in disbelief, "-You ain't supposed to be alone, right now. Doc said-"

"I'll go to Maggie's then," you offered -grabbing your shoes which were placed neatly by the bed. Something in you stung that he had thought to do that for you.

"Why?" He asked -genuine.

You wordlessly walked through the door past him -Maggie trailing you. You padded down the hallway, cursing the familiar walls -the baby toys scattered in the corner, the picture frames hung up on the wall, and the little trinkets from his time on the road.

"You'll tell me if the kids need me, yeah?" You spoke, finally -hand turning the doorknob.

"Will ya just talk to me?"

You stuttered in your step, you could feel Maggie behind you. Your heart twisting in your chest, you just wanted to go. But something in you stopped; god, you loved him so much. It wasn't fair.

"Fine," you answered -clipped, "-Maggie, give us a minute? I'll be over in a few."

She looked at you a moment, trying to see if she should leave maybe. Eyes darting over your face, reading your eyes -she seemed to be satisfied, "Okay."

You spun to Rick, taking a deep breath in through your nose.

"What do you want to talk about, Rick?"

He laughed -in disbelief, you could tell, "What do I wanna talk 'bout? Seriously? Like you don't know?"

You stared at him -wordlessly.

"Y/N," he started -stepping toward you, you almost immediately stepped back and he noticed, "-you fuckin' fainted, you're hurt. We don't even know why and now-"

"I know why," you interrupted.

He seemed to look at you in curiosity, "Why?"

"Haven't been eating," you lied with the ease of the wind.

He seemed to process that a second -concern flitting through his face before settling somewhere else, "'At's bullshit."

"How do you know-"

"You ate dinner at mine last night," he explained, "-an' ya cleaned your plate."

Shit.

"Look Rick," you mended, "-I really don't want to talk about it."

"Why?" He offered, and he stepped forward -you stepped back, "-and now you're... you're avoidin' me? What the hell happened? You were fine, yesterday-"

"Can we not get into this right now?" You interrupted again, "-My head hurts like hell, and I just want to go and rest, like I imagine I was told to do."

Rick leveled a look at you, "Why not 'ere? Why Maggie's? You're always 'round 'ere anyway-"

It slipped out before you could think about it -venomous, "And why do you think that is?"

He stuttered to a stop, "What?"

Regret spilled into your stomach, "Rick, let's not get into this. Seriously. I'm tired-"

"No, no," he echoed, "-you brought it up. What do ya mean? What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"I can't," you swallowed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-Rick, not now, okay?"

He looked at you surfing over your eyes, insistent, "Why are you 'round 'ere so often?"

"Rick-"

"I thought it was 'cause ya loved the kids," he listed, "-or 'cause we were friends. But you... 'Ere's another reason."

"Rick, I don't want to."

"Want to what?" He asked, something in his voice teetering, "-Tell me? Talk to me? We used to know everythin' 'bout each other, and now you're sayin'-"

Something in you snapped. You don't know if it was his tone, or the words, or the implication that you had been lying to him while he was so truthful to you-

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

Rick froze -unmoving. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Are you happy now?"

He didn't say a word.

"So, yeah. I have been lying to you," you hissed, "-if you wanted to put it that way. If you wanted to say that I'm an asshole for protecting myself, then yeah, I am."

Rick was much different in his stance now -gentle like you'd run at his first motion toward you, eyes flickering between so many things, "Y/N..."

"No," you spoke -steely, "-I'm not. We're not doing this. I already know..."

Your words trailed off, and you swallowed -pushing down the tears. You weren't going to cry now.

"I saw you with Jessie, okay?" you explained -something in your voice softer, fragile, hurt, "-So I know. It's why I fainted. I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Y/N, I never-"

"Seriously, Rick," you nearly begged -your voice cracking, "-I know. You don't need to drag this out longer. Did you not hear me the first time?"

His mouth snapped shut, even though he looked like he had a lot to say. Words urging to be uttered from his lips. But he didn't say anything, maybe out of respect to you. You were grateful.

"I'll be back by later to see the kids," you echoed out -something in your voice hollow.

"Will ya just let me-"

"Just let me know when Judith's up, okay?" You interrupted, deflecting, "-I said I'd watch her today."

And with a final look (maybe your last ever full look at him), you walked out the door.

[grimesgirll]

the first time you saw rick in his constable uniform, you thought you were going to have to go to your room to cool down.

clean shaven, hair trimmed, iron pressed uniform clad rick grimes was a sight to behold. having known him just as he was a mere week or two ago, you wouldn't have expected him to be an officer of the law.

truth be told, you found that version of rick wildly hot. he was passionate. he was protective of not just you but judith, carl, the group. purpose looked great on him however it manifested.

but you also loved this domestic version of rick. watching him feed judith at a marble countertop was surreal. you hadn't known him when he was a clean-cut suburban dad, just as a survivor. rick really brought out your thing for men in uniforms though. you'd thought it was a one off thing when you'd hit on a state game warden after he came to dispatch the deer you hit with your car in the past but constable rick had him beat.

you never thought you'd see rick in a tie. you think about how he would've looked at your sorority formal as he brushes past you in the kitchen, immediately knowing what's up when your eyes don't leave him as you start to plate the brownies you just pulled out of the oven.

"like what you see?"

you smile. "yeah." you hold up a freshly cut brownie. "rick, can you try a bite? let me know if they're still hot? i don't wanna burn my tongue."

rick takes a step closer to lean in and take a mouthful of your brownie. "mmm," he hums. "delicious. not too hot. not for you." you gleam at the praise. "thank you, darlin'," he whispers huskily to you.

"you're welcome, officer."

you watch something shift in his eyes as he pops the rest of the brownie into his mouth. "i thought you didn't like cops."

"i never said that," you attest. "i've never said a bad word about a constable in my life," you swear, putting the plate of brownies down to step closer to rick, who begins to play with the buttons on your cardigan.

"really?"

"mhmm." you run your hands along his tie. "i enjoy the uniform."

"do you?"

you nod, hands working up to his chestnut curls. "did they give you handcuffs?"

rick chuckles at you. "those are for official constable business, not playin' around."

"i'm not playing around," you whisper in his ear. "what's it take to get a girl arrested around here?"

not much apparently because all you had to do was start pulling on his tie to get dragged to the upstairs bedroom and thrown on the bed. with a hand cuffed to the bedpost, all you could do was squirm as alexandria's newest constable stripped you from the waist down.

"how many do you want?" rick asks once he's gotten your pants down and he's running his hand on your ass.

you shrug. "you choose, officer."

"bad choice," he remarks and pulls you over his lap to get a better angle. "actually, i think you'll like this."

smack!

you wince. you can't remember the last time you were spanked but you know you're gonna remember this for sure, if not purely by the memory, then by the handprints that were already forming on your plush ass as rick gives you another round.

as you twist and writhe in his grasp, rick starts to get impatient, wishing you were squirming on a specific part of him. he lowers his lips to your ear. "are you ready to be a good girl?" he asks.

you nod your head up and down. "i've always been your good girl," you breathe, slightly tensing when you feel his hand on your bottom again.

"good."

with that, he flips you back face down onto the bed and you hear the metallic clank of his belt buckle. it's not ten seconds later that you feel him against your wet hole. as you feel the cold air on, you realize how wet you are; rick's behind you drawing circles in your slick with his dick while you whine into the duvet.

"rick," you start, voice low and needy.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"i want you, rick." you answer with an exhale. "i'm so wet for you."

"i can see, honey."

"then fuck me!"

"maybe ask the constable nicely."

you can hear the smugness in his voice and it goes straight to your cunt.

"constable grimes," you croon. "can you please fuck me?"

you don't have time to hear his answer because the wind is knocked out of you - there it is. you're knocked halfway up the bed as the constable fucks into you roughly.

"how do you like that, sweetheart?" he inquires, breath warm against your neck as he keeps pushing all the right buttons inside of you.

"mhmmm," you murmur. "feel so full."

"good."

you were so developing a thing for men in uniform.

[nahokura]

OH MY GOD PAMELA AND JUDITH 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😭😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

girls who r weird and off-putting 😍

[nahokura]

Shout out to every female Reece Shearsmith characters for being lesbian /hj

[judith-buckle]

[soon-palestine]

not only is this a transparant attempt by the New York Times to shield Jeffrey "I don't do evidence, I do stories" Gettleman and her partner's nephew food blogger Adam Sella, they're also lying about it being about "a liked tweet" to defend the "mass rape" hoax they fabricated it was never just about "one liked tweet". That's a pathetic cover-up attempt. She expressed repeatedly, including with her nephew Adam Sella, that she set out to fabricate the "mass rape" hoax "because it is important for Israeli hasbara [propaganda]

then The Intercept went back and looked over her public detailed statements, and confirmed this. Anat Schwartz intentionally set out, together with her relative Adam Sella, to fabricate this hoax in coordination with the Israeli regime. That is the scandal

recently graduated comp lit student and food blogger with zero reporting experience Adam Sella worked daily with his uncle's wife Anat Schwartz to self-admittedly fabricate this hoax. And the NYT keeps letting him launder it as detailed in these threads:

just recently the New York Times finally buckled after months of depraved shielding of the original "mass rape" hoax fabricated by Gettleman, Sella and Schwartz, and admitted just one of the huge glaring holes in it, while still trying to cover for it

all the fabricated "mass rape" pieces produced by Jeffrey Gettleman, Adam Sella and his uncle's partner Anat Schwartz have been definitively debunked as genocidal atrocity propaganda hoaxes by Mondoweiss, Grayzone, Electronic Intifada, Intercept and myself

instead of acknowledging this, retracting them and firing Gettleman and Sella for journalistic malpractice not seen in NYT history since Judith Miller, they are still standing by them and scapegoating Anat Schwartz with the grotesque cover-up lie about "it's just one liked tweet"

here is the original thread where I exposed Anat Schwartz for the self-admitted genocidal atrocity propagandist hoaxer she is, and notice that I immediately included her nephew Adam Sella and Jeffrey Gettleman. The NYT desperately wants to scapegoat her

minimal journalistic integrity and morality demands that the New York Times immediately fire Jeffrey Gettleman and Adam Sella, retract all their "mass rape" hoax pieces, profusely apologize, then also fire executive editor Joseph Kahn who oversaw and defended all this for months

Joseph Kahn, Jeffrey Gettleman and Adam Sella worked together to commission, publish, and then defend long after its decisive debunking a genocidal atrocity propaganda hoax that played a key role in the Israeli regime's propaganda effort to launder and continue the Gaza genocide

it was intentional, it was deliberate, and the New York Times keeps standing by it. Every second it does it further erodes the last remnants of its credibility. Again, this is their biggest journalistic scandal since Judith Miller's WMD hoax. There has to be accountability for it

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Johnny, Baby

Summary: Based on the lore release, this short is written from the perspective of Johnny as a toddler when his mom knocks on Nancy's door.

Word count: 970

Warnings: Johnny is a toddler and watches his mom die... So there's that

Mama’s left eye is fluffy and purple. She tells me it's okay, but daddy says it isn't. Daddy says mommy is a bitch. Daddy says he wishes we weren't his problem to deal with, that he'd be better off without deadweight like us.

Mama is crying, she takes my hand and I barely have time to grab my stuffed dog Blackie before she lifts me onto her hip and storms outside in a flurry of tears, refusing to look back when daddy yells, “Where the hell do you think you're goin’, dumb slut?!”

“Away from you!” She screams in return. The key to the beat-up old car forms an indent in her palm as she hurriedly buckles me into my car seat.

“Not with my son you ain't!” The angry rumble of my dad's baritone rattles in the back of my skull. I clutch Blackie tighter.

“Mama?” My lower lip trembles, fear reflected in my dark brown eyes.

Mama hurries into the front seat, slamming the creaky door closed and locking it. She turns on the car then looks back at me, her dark hair wild.

“It'll be okay, baby,” she says in a soft, soothing tone.

And I believe her, my nerves slowly untangling.

CRACK! The sound makes me jump in place. When I look up, the windshield is sprayed with a collection of delicate spiderwebs.

Daddy stands outside of the car, jiggling the handle. In his left hand, he holds a baseball bat. When the door fails to open, he reels back to hit the windshield again.

Mama slams on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. Daddy throws the baseball bat at us—it glances off the left rearview mirror, which now hangs by a wire.

Before now, I felt frozen, in a daze. But now, the feelings bowl me over. I scream and wail, and mama tries to help but I can't hear her over the blood rushing behind my little ears. It's a good thing Blackie isn't alive or I would be squeezing the life out of him right now.

“We'll find help baby, I promise, please Johnny stop crying,” she says, her own tears beginning to flow. She drives too quickly for someone half-blinded without any real direction, but she can't slow down. We aren't safe yet.

After a while, my tears subside to sniffles. Blackie is covered in tears and snot, but I cuddle him anyway.

“I'm lost, baby. We need to stop for directions,” mama says, pulling up in front of a beautiful house with rows of flowers.

“Mama!” I cry, holding out my chubby arms desperately. It took me so long to stop crying, mama doesn't want me to cry anymore. She reluctantly takes me from my car seat, and I cling to her so tightly she barely has to help hold me. Blackie dangles by a paw from my fist, swinging as we approach the front door and knock.

Almost instantly, as if she'd been watching us from the window, a woman with curled black hair and glasses answers.

“Lost, sugar? Wouldn't be the first to stumble up to my house,” she says.

“Yes ma’am. We just need directions, then we can get out of your hair.”

The woman's eyes dart from mama's purpled face to my still-red one. “Sure, sure. I can help you. Come on in!” She steps aside, her eyes glued to me as we enter. “I’m Nancy. And who is this little cutie?”

“His name is Johnny, I'm Judith. Nice to meet you,” mama says, but Nancy didn't seem to register her name. She's entirely engrossed in me, to the point where mama shifts me to her other side, trying to provide a barrier between her and I while looking around the house.

This visibly upsets Nancy, who gives mama a scowl she barely manages to conceal before mama looks back over to her as she finishes locking the complicated door lock. “Go on and sit down. Want some tea?” She asks, heading for the kitchen as mama takes a hesitant seat at the dining room table, me on her lap.

“We just need directions to the nearest hotel, no tea thank you,” she says, her leg bouncing anxiously beneath me.

Nancy comes back with a tray and two teacups. Mama raises her hand to wave Nancy's tea glass off, but instead Nancy pulls a knife from under the tray and slices her palm open.

Blood pours onto her pristine carpet, and I burst into tears.

“Gimme that baby and I might let you die quick!” Nancy hollers, lunging for me. Mama quickly turns me away, and when Nancy misses, mama jabs the car key between her knuckles deep into Nancy's left eye.

Nancy howls like a banshee, eye jelly running down her cheek. She starts swinging wildly, and Mama throws her chair back and stands, clutching me and backing away from Nancy.

“You get back here you stupid bitch! Ain't no way you can open that door lock!” Nancy screams, stumbling over the chair in her path.

“Johnny,” mama says, setting me down. I look up at her desperately, my entire body shaking. “Johnny baby, you have to hide. Someone will see our car and-”

Nancy’s hand reaches around mama’s shoulder, dragging a blade across her neck. A red streak follows the knife, and red rains down on me, splattering over my blue truck shirt and soaking Blackie even worse. Mama's eyes go glassy, and my little legs give out as I collapse to the floor.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Nancy says, picking me up and cradling me against her chest.

And I don't believe her.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Sunshine follows with Sunfall pt.5

Warnings: Grudges(well deserved)

Series Masterlist

The next few chapters will be posted at random, no longer every Friday. I'm going to take some time to focus on some other wip's of mine.

~☆~

When Jason left your apartment that night, he had left you with his phone number, an address, a key, and a promise to see you again. You shouldn't trust his promises, you know this.

It took three whole days of fighting with yourself to finally call him, ask him if he wanted Judith back in his life. The two of you talked about her for hours that night, you telling him about all of the things he's missed, not just in the past year but also things he missed throughout her whole life.

She likes pink glittery Pancakes, her favorite color is yellow, she likes going to the park because she gets to silently judge people, she loves school(especially her class turtle), she likes being around her family, but only for short period (they can get on her nerves quickly), she's obsessed with Blues clues, but only the older version with Steve (which is why she named the cat Damian had gifted her "Periwinkle"), onetime she had the flu and genuinely thought she was dying, she likes watching her uncles play video games, but she doesn't like playing them.

A lot of things have come up in her transition from four to five.

You didn't end the call without telling him what's on your mind. "I don't want her to love you, just for you to leave again when you can't handle the pressure. I don't want you to leave her heartbroken."

×

"Hey, Jude!"

"Hi, Mommy!"

Judith ran up to you, hugging your legs. An action she does every single time you pick her up from school. "How was your day, baby?"

"Awsome!" She yelled, looking down at a flower in her hand. "I got a present!"

"Aw, that's cute." You wouldn't tell her that her 'flower' was, in fact, a weed. The two of you started walking to your car, hand in hand.

"Momma, help, please.." She smiled as she tried to climb into the back seat. You let out a small chuckle at her behavior. You watched as she buckled her seat belt, waiting to see if she was fully okay before getting into the front seat.

"Now when we get home you're gonna have to take a bath, I have a suprise." You told her, watching as her expression brightened up at your words.

"What kind of suprise?" She pried.

"If I tell you, then it won't be a surprise anymore."

×

Judith excitedly ran through the apartment as soon as you got the door open. Her logic was that the sooner she got ready, the sooner her suprise would happen.

"Sweetheart, the suprise isn't until tonight!" You yelled from the living room.

"I have to plan!" She yelled back. You let out another chuckle and made your way to the bathroom, turning the knobs on the tub so that it's the perfect temperature. "Let's just get you into some pajamas for now!"

×

Let's just say the night came sooner than expected. Judith sat on your bed watching as you did your makeup. "Can I have some Momma?"

You turned to look at her, wide smile on your lips. "Judy, baby, you don't need any."

Despite your words, you still turned to dab a little bit of lip gloss on her lips. It's one that she left on your vanity, blue tube with Cinderella plastered on it. "Thank you, Mommy."

"You're welcome, baby." You turned to look at yourself one last time, letting out a sigh as you deemed yourself okay. "You ready?"

"Yes!"

×

Judith watched wide-eyed out of the window. Jason's apartment wasn't on the side of Gotham that the two of you grew up in and lived together in. It was in between that and near where the Manor and your very own apartment layed.

You parked your car in the garage, letting out another sigh as you finally realized what you were doing.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Judith asked, concerned look on her small face.

You turned to offer her a smile. "I'm okay."

The two of you hopped out of the car, well, Judith got out with the help of you. And then made your way into the lobby. If you remember correctly, Jason had said that the elevator just started running again. Thankfully, you did remember correctly.

You pushed the button that you needed and let yet another sigh fall from your lips. Judith's hand carefully grasped yours, brung you out of the daze you didn't even know you were in. "It's okay, I don't need a suprise."

Her head turned to look up at you, and you mustered up the best smile you could. "Oh, but you're going to love this."

The elevator finally reached the floor you needed to be on. You and Judith walked down the hallway hand in hand. Hesitantly, you reached in your pocket for the key that Jason had left you, his apartment key. You looked down at Judith's face one more time before you lined up the key and twisted the lock open. As the door opened, Judith peered inside, trying to see what was so special about some apartment. A body coming around the corner made her look up, a lamp casted light on a familiar face.

"Daddy!" Judith screamed. Her little legs ran as fast at they could, just to reach Jason.

"Hey, Sunshine." He smiled, reaching down to engulf her in a hug. One of his hands held her to him, and the other cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he pressed kisses to it. The corner of his eyes prickled, preparing for the tears that were rising. Jason stood up with Judith still in his arms, causing a small squeal to escape her, before he took an arm off of her and reached it out for you, welcoming you into their embrace.

"God, I've missed you." He whispered to her, still pressing his face into her hair. "I've missed you so much."

His arms hugged the both of you tighter, trying to lock you into place forever.

Eventually, you pulled your head away to look at both Judith and Jason. Watching as they too slowly pulled away so that they could look at each other.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, voice breaking from the emotions he's experiencing.

"Yeah!" Judith's eyes lit up. Jason let a wet laugh fall from his lips before he carried her into his kitchen. Holding her on a hip as he stirred something in a pot. You followed after them and smiled to yourself, unknowingly to the both of them you also happened to have your phone on you.

A picture of this would be nice.

"Are you hungry, baby?" Jason asked, staring down at the girl in his arms.

"Mhm.." She mumbled, laying her head against his collarbones. Jason gave you a quick glance before walking over to a room that was connected to the kitchen.

His apartment was far different than the one you shared on the "bad" side of Gotham. That apartment was dingy with one bedroom and no space for a kitchen table, leading to many nights of eating on the couch. Most of your furniture there had been hand me downs from Jason's many siblings, but it was your home. When you and Jason split ways, he had moved out and stayed with Roy for a bit before he eventually got himself another apartment where he got even more hand me down furniture.

This apartment was cleaner and more barren, almost like he never spent any time here. But he had the necessities to make it a starter home, a couch, TV, kitchen supplies, and a dining room set.

Despite your dislike for the man you used to love, you are happy for him. He seems healthier, physically and mentally.

"Where do you wanna sit?" He asked, pointing to the four chairs in the dining room.

"Next to you!" Judith yelled, pointing up at her father.

Jason noted that you had followed them into the room and rested upon the door frame. He looked back at you, silently asking if she could. You nodded your head, giving Jason the chance to set her down next to where he was about to sit. He rounded the table and pulled out a chair for you, motioning for you to sit down.

After he scooted you I to place, he retreated back to the kitchen, coming back a second later with a plate for you and Judith. As you looked down, you noticed what it was. The one thing you constantly craved when you were pregnant, and what just so happened to be Judith's favorite food.

"Chicken Alfred!" Judith yelled. No matter how many times you told her the correct pronunciation, she still called it 'Alfred'. It was a miracle that she liked it, no matter how many other pastas you get her to try. This is the one she loves.

Jason smiled down at Judith then walked back to the kitchen, returning with his own plate.

×

After dinner, you helped Jason clean up while Judith sat in the living room watching TV. The two or you worked side by side to do the dishes.

You noticed the glances that Jason would throw at you. After the fifth one, you sighed and put down the plate you were holding.

"What?" You asked, annoyed by his actions.

Jason, too, set down what he was holding. "I just didn't expect you to let her see me." He whispered.

You pursed your lips and thought of what to say. "Just because I have a problem with you doesn't mean she should too." You picked up the plate again and continued to wipe it with a sponge. "This doesn't mean I want you to be in our lives, I just want her to be happy."

~☆~

My mom makes this bomb homemade chicken Alfredo on my older brothers birthday (sometimes mine as well) and it's so fucking good. We call it "Birthday Alfredo".

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