#loris x reader

[angelltheninth]

Dating The Piltover Strike Team

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, confession, kissing, co-workers, flirting, cuddles, gift giving, lots of hand holding, late for work

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I don't know what else to call these guys. Caitlyn's Strike Team? The Special Enforcers? The Dead and the Miserable?

VI

Never dials down her flirting, but she flirts especially hard at work. She wants absolutely everyone to know you're her girlfriend. Every time she's with you she's flirting or praising you in some way, anything to make you blush and then commenting how cute you are. Grins when others point out the marks on your neck, that she fully intended on them seeing, then she acts all innocent when you question her about it.

CAITLYN

Stands close to you whenever she can so she can hold your hand without anyone seeing. She's not exactly trying to keep you a secret, she actually invites you into her office regularly do discuss your dates. But she wants to keep a certain level of professionalism, when others can see you two that is, when you're alone it's very different and she won't hesitate to sit you down into her lap and kiss you senseless. No visible marks though, only hidden ones.

MADDIE

Is pretty clingy so it's hard to hide your relationship and she will all but brag about having a cute girlfriend anyways so there's no sense in pretending. Loves having lunch with you, she treats them as little work dates. Because she loves sleeping over at your place you'll often be late for work, or you'll have to start getting up earlier, kicking her out of you bed is simply not an option. She fills your desk with all kinds of little gifts she got for you, leaving no doubt you're dating.

LORIS

Hesitates a little when it comes to dating you. Not that he doesn't think you're an amazing woman and you deserve nothing but the best but he also knows that these things can get complicated. That being said he also can't stand by and watch other flirt with you, he's very protective of you, always close by, laughing at the jokes you make. It takes him a long time to confess his feelings and if you thought he was protective before you've seen nothing yet.

STEB

While he doesn't say much he knows how to make you feel appreciated and loved. Given how others think he is pretty strict it takes them all by surprise to discover that you're a couple and how easy it is for you to fluster him. All it really takes is you kissing his cheek and he reacts, his eyes widening and moving out of your kissing range. He wraps his arm around you when you fall asleep on his shoulder, cuddling up to him, showing you and only you a rare smile.

[retrogradedmeowcury]

Pregnancy txts . ๋࣭ ⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ๋ ࣭ ⭑.

satoru gojo x reader | suguru geto x reader | kento nanami x reader | toji fushiguro x reader | ryomen sukuna x reader | choso x reader | ieiri shoko x reader | iori utahime x reader

tw; fem reader, mentions of pregnancy, nicknames (gorgeous, babe, pretty, ect.), talk of cravings! sum; silly ole texts [YourName] sends their baby daddy/momma ! an; i heart making anime milfs/dilfs

[minor/ageless blogs dn]

[emmyrosee]

emmy pls pls pls PLEASE i need something with sunarin. angsty, fluffy, smutty i don’t care. i need suna so bad😓🙂‍↕️‼️ i need him in a way that insults feminism.

love u vro vro

Rintaro presses a kiss on your cheek, only to reel back as you give him a whine of annoyance, almost as if you’d burned him. “Baaaaaabuhhhh!”

“….what?”

You wipe off his kiss, and you try your best not to laugh at the offended noise and look he gives you, “I just did my skincare! Don’t kiss me with those… things.”

“These things?” He repeats, pointing at his lips. “The things we call lips? The lips that kiss you, love you, flirt with you, those lips?”

“Yes!” You scoff. “They’re dirty, don’t kiss me with them.”

His brows are pinched so deep in the middle of his forehead that you’re almost convinced he’s going to give himself a headache, and you shake your head as you make a move to reapply your moisturizer. “Uhm, I just brushed, flossed, and gargled, these lips have never been cleaner!”

“They’re man lips,” you huff, crossing your arms. Now, he’s fully upset. “They’re dirty because you’re a sport man who plays sports and you’re a man.”

“While your logic is not objectively wrong, I still don’t appreciate the slander, or, you wiping off my kisses!”

“You can kiss me on my lips before my lip balm, but you need to move fast,” you say firmly, only for him to once again jerk back in confusion.

“But!”

“Hurry,” you say, grabbing your lip balm. “You’d better pick quick.”

“But- but babe!”

“Now!”

“But!” He leans forwards to press a kiss to your lips, stealing the kiss he desperately wanted but is still pouting about afterwards, “so what, now I’ve got to schedule my kisses with you?”

You slowly turn to face him, quirking your brow, “oh, so, do you not want an appointment for tomorrow? Because I can make that happen.”

“I do!” He whines. “But I don’t want to have to pencil in my kissing times-“

“Well, the spots are filling up fast, so you’d better get on it.”

“BY WHO?!”

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭

⊱✿⊰ summary: your ex boyfriend is supposed to be dead, so why isn't he?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: mentions of death, tortue, jason is more aggressive, reader is shorter than jason, this is kinda short sry

⊱✿⊰ notes: i tried my very best and I hope you like this! I loved the idea and I hoped to make this angsty and cute at the same time. Ily all

he was standing in front of you, all bulking muscle and all entirely alive. he was supposed to be dead, jason todd was supposed to be six feet under because you watched him get buried.

"did ya miss me?" he drawled, after the silence had stretched on for far too long. his lips spread into a grin, sharp teething glinting in the streetlights.

you stood silent, feeling like that person you were when you found out he died. it was like a piece of your soul was shattered, like jason took a chunk of your heart with him when he got kidnapped by the horrendous clown.

"what? cat's got your tongue?" he asked, squatting a bit so you were face to face. you stared at his face, examining every detail of his very alive person. his eyes were deep and haunted, if you delved in you'd surely drown in the despair he holds.

"how are you alive?" you asked, clutching your shirt as though you could prevent your heart from bleeding out of your chest. he shrugged, trying to hold onto his cocky and malicious attitude he was showing you.

"why does it matter? aren't ya happy to see me?" he grinned, hand brushing against your cheek. instinctively you leaned in, craving his touch even if he felt different. his once warm and loving hands were now cold and sinister. he had changed.

"of course i am, i just....don't understand what's happening. i was at your funeral, jason." you whispered, letting your arms drop to your sides. to his credit, his expression faltered like he was finally letting you see a glimpse of the kind boy he used to be.

"it's complicated. but im here now, baby." he said, softer this time, curling his hands around your face and resting his forehead against yours.

he was different, big and harsh, cold and traumatized. but he was loving the same, pressing you against his body and filling your heart with comfort you hadn't felt in years. he was the same boy you knew under all the rough layers of trauma and hurt.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[polarkitt77]

thinking abt Steb with an oral fixation…

༺𓆝༇

Oral Fixation! Steb who could place himself between your thighs for hours and hours and hours, ripping orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of you

Oral Fixation! Steb who’s tongue is longer than humans, sticking it deep inside of you, loving the way it feels when you clench around his tongue

Oral Fixation! Steb who goes absolutely feral when you suck on his fingers, the scales under his eyes flaring before settling down when he sees you, fingers pushing inside you as he trails love bites and marks you all the way down to your pussy to suck on your clit

Oral Fixation! Steb who holds hard eye contact with you the entire time he eats you out, loving the look of absolute euphoria that dawns on your face as you cum

Oral Fixation! Steb who doesnt want you to hover over his mouth, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs and pulling you down to actually sit on his face

Oral Fixation! Steb whos thin lips press kisses around your core, teasing you as his breath fans over your pussy, chuckling softly at the way you clench around nothing

i need him so bad.

[unluckiestmember]

hey!! i saw how you were writing for steb on ur requests and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of our quiet enforcer absolutely smitten with enforcer reader who is his polar opposite (loud and isn’t afraid to speak her mind). Hope to see more of him in Arcane cause i’m so in love with him ✋🏼😭

i hope that is ok and hope you’re faring well i really enjoy reading the head canons you post

Coming right up!

Steb X Polar Opposite Enforcer! Reader

Characters: Steb

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: I'm not gonna lie, the lack of Steb, Madelyn and Loris is making this girl see red. As a fan though, I'll satiate our thirst for the fishman, the ginger and the big ox.

When Steb first met you, he had to admit. He thought you were kind of annoying.

He had never met someone who was so outspoken about. Well. Everything.

Of course he was used to the cheerful open mind of Maddie and the loud stubbornness of Violet, but you? Boy, you were different.

Not negatively stubborn, thank the gods, but you were a ball of energy he just couldn’t find himself grasping upon.

Of course he worked with you and kept cordial, even when you tried to speak to him.

But deep down it was becoming a problem so large he would discuss with Caitlyn about switching shifts or embarking on missions without your presence.

Steb couldn’t stand you at first… But that’s the thing about time. It has a way of changing people.

With time and missions where the both of you had to work together alone, the fishman found himself tolerating you.

Actually. It was more than toleration. He actually. Liked you.

Instead of moments where he was alone being perceived as the truest form of inner peace, he would find himself pondering on what you were doing.

‘Where was she right now? How was she doing? Was she being her curious usual self?’

Those thoughts and more began to swarm around his brain like an emotional hurricane that only grew the more moments passed without you.

Steb had fallen in love before. Multiple times. But not like this.

He confided in his crewmates to assist him with his emotions and they all said the same thing;

“Tell her how you feel.” “Go for it, Steb!” “She’ll love you back, I’m sure of it!”

The man was filled with nervousness and anxiety, but the pep talk from his allies and friends were strong enough to finally confess.

So he did. And he didn’t know why he was so fearful to tell you because of course you loved him back! You loved him this whole time!

Now the two of you are one of the cutest couples on the force.

A fine pair of polar opposites that many would feel wouldn’t last a week, but were the light of the enforcers unit.

You of course still keep him on his toes with your open antics.

Meanwhile, he teaches you value in the calm and peaceful moments of life.

No one’s ever seen Steb happier around the headquarters, but they have you to thank for that.

He has you to thank for that. And he’ll cherish this feeling of happiness and yourself forever.

If you got any requests for Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[girlfantasy777]

I'm SO mad with how they treated my girl Maddie!!!!

What did they do to her?!

I don't even know. Her character just seems...pointless? made no sense. Especially since the last time we saw her she was trying to steer Cait away from Ambessa. Her betrayal just feel so empty almost as if they didn't know what to do with her since Caitvi needed to be endgame so they just pull the "traitor" card like a Disney plot twist villain😭. Like what was her motif? her story? why did she looked disappointed Infront the statue? was her relationship with Cait even get elaborated? I get the whole "microexpression" stuff they tryna do but I don't think everything needs to be implied thru it like come on ITS A STORY FOR GOD SAKE😭It just feel so out of character even for her like did she switch side last minute off screen??? feels like she existed just for shock value which is disappointing when they could've done much more with her character I LOVED HER DESIGN .

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Eight | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Trigger warning for abusive behavior, Shane showing his true colors, Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: OKAY — apologies for the wait. I had a brief bought of hyperfixation on Logan Howlett and couldn't focus on anything other than X-Men since Deadpool and Wolverine came out. But now that the new season of Daryl Dixon is coming out, I am back in the fucking building. I still have a lot planned for this little fic, so let me know if you guys are still enjoying. This is very much a turning point in the story for the reader.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you set down one of the novels Dale had loaned you during one of your first days at the quarry camp. He just so happened to have overheard you complaining to Shane about not bringing anything to pass the time during the quiet hours at the end of the day when all chores and other responsibilities had been taken care of. Of course, Shane had brushed off your complaint — reminding you that you all had much bigger problems than your boredom. That was the first time since the world's end that you noticed his bitterness towards you and the first time you allowed yourself to believe that your feelings were insignificant, idiotic even, because of the word of Shane Walsh. That is until Dale appeared beside you at the campfire that night with a small stack of books from his RV — an act of kindness in an increasingly cruel world. 

You hoped that some light reading would distract you from everything — the dead rising, Shane’s constant negligence, Daryl’s sudden indifference. But, instead, you have the same sinking feeling in your gut that you woke up with. The very feeling that began last night after overhearing Daryl’s words to his brother. 

She don’t mean nothing to me. 

You shake your head at the memory and try to rid yourself of the look on Daryl’s face at the realization that you’d been listening last night — regret and sorrow mixing with the anger he felt towards his brother. A part of you felt sorry for him. And that part of you yearned to comfort him last night after he argued with his brother and wanted to apologize for eavesdropping. But the truth is, his words hurt you more than you care to admit because you have grown to care for the younger Dixon more than you care to admit. And that embarrasses you because wasn’t this hurt the very thing that Shane had warned you about when the brothers first joined the quarry camp?

Don’t go near those Dixons — they’re nothing but trouble. 

You sigh yet again before picking the book back up, but before you can return to reading, a strong pair of hands wrap around your shoulders. Shane. His touch should comfort you, but all you feel right now is anxiety as you wait for the other shoe to drop. In the few weeks you’ve been at the quarry camp, you’ve come to realize that Shane’s gentleness can turn to cruelty without warning — like the flip of a switch. His hands squeeze your shoulders tighter as they tense under his touch. 

“What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head at his question and turn to look at him. His features are surprisingly soft this morning and etched with concern as he studies your face. Your heart aches as he reminds you of the Shane who had begged Lori incessantly for your phone number. The Shane who brought you coffee during his patrols and wouldn’t shut up about you in the cruiser with Rick. The Shane who you had begun to fall in love with before the dead started walking the earth. You reach up and cover one of his hands with yours — the touch being your attempt at offering an olive branch after weeks of tension and hostility. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Shane hums softly while rubbing your shoulders. Against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, silently enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, movement to your left catches your attention. You observe as Andrea helps T-Dog and Glenn prepare the van for today’s excursion. Glenn doubles over in laughter over something T-Dog said to Andrea, and there’s a sudden, deep pain in your chest as you watch T-Dog join in on the laughter and clap Glenn on the back of his shoulder — like someone plunged a knife into your heart and twisted. There’s a camaraderie forming among the members of the quarry camp — a camaraderie that you feel on the outskirts of.

“I heard about the run happening today, the one to Atlanta. I want to go with.”

Shane lets out a disappointed sigh, and your face drops at the sound. You thought maybe he'd be a little more lenient since he seems to be in a good mood today.

“I think they’ve got enough people. Adding another will probably only slow them down.”

Your brow furrows at Shane’s words as you feel your temper rising. Since the world ended, all Shane has done is underestimate you. You simply want the chance to prove yourself. You square your shoulders before responding. 

“I already talked to Glenn this morning — he said they could use another person out there.”

Shane’s hold on your shoulders tightens, and you clench your jaw due to the sudden pain. You take in a shaky breath, waiting for his response. 

“You should have talked to me first.”

His voice is ice cold, utterly devoid of the care and concern he’d shown you moments ago. The sound makes a shiver run down your spine. This isn’t your Shane. And you know that. You know you’ve been holding onto the idea of a man that you lost when the government dropped bombs on the entire city of Atlanta. And you know that you’ve been holding on so tight because you yearn to feel an ounce of normalcy. You’d been holding onto the hope that you’d wake up tomorrow to a cure and life would return to as it was before — this would just be something you’d reminisce about over coffee with Shane, Lori, and Rick years from now. But even with a cure, things can’t return to normal. Not after everything you’ve seen. Not after Shane’s shown you the cruelty he hides under the charm.

“I just want to contribute — pull my weight around here.”

The grip he has on your shoulders is unrelenting. A part of you thinks he wants his touch to leave behind a bruise — a reminder of this moment where he is in total control. A reminder of how small he can make you feel. 

“You can start by pulling your weight in camp. Lori needs help with the laundry.”

Your brow furrows at his words, and you grind your teeth together in frustration. You want to fight back, but the pain in your shoulders is becoming too much to bear. So, instead of talking back, you bite your tongue and silently nod at his words. You just hope he’ll let you go if you do what he says. Thankfully, Shane relents and backs away from you. You immediately stand from your chair, abandoning the novel on the table, as you waste no time putting distance between yourself and him. You can feel Shane’s eyes still on you as you walk away, but you don’t turn back. Instead, you keep moving until you find Lori. You collapse into the seat beside her with a heavy sigh. She looks up from the wash basin and meets your eyes.

“Bad day?”

“You could say that again. I heard you could use some help, though.”

A soft laugh escapes Lori’s lips as she slides a basket of dirty clothing your way. The familiar sound eases your nerves, and you realize you can let your guard down now. It’s just you and Lori sitting down by the quarry, and you know that she would never do anything to purposefully hurt you — not like Shane. 

“I can always use the help — the dirty laundry just never seems to end around here. And the company is always nice.”

You smile at her before grabbing the basket she slid your way. Your brow furrows as you notice a familiar pair of dark, tattered jeans. During the past few weeks with the younger Dixon, you’ve learned that Daryl never throws his clothes in the communal laundry baskets. Unlike his brother, he prefers to wash his clothes himself. You push your curiosity aside, resisting the urge to scan your surroundings yet again. You’ll never admit it, but despite your frustration towards Daryl, you’ve spent all morning hoping to see his familiar figure lingering around the outskirts of the camp. You swallow your disappointment and pick up the jeans. 

You check to ensure he’d left nothing in his pockets — remembering the all-out brawl that almost occurred when Merle discovered a soggy pack of cigarettes in his back pocket after Andrea had done the laundry. In your search, you find a folded piece of paper in one of his front pockets. Surprise washes over your features as you look down at the paper and see your name written in messy handwriting. You unfold the note, and your disappointment melt away as you read the words.

Gone out hunting. Won’t be back til tomorrow. Sorry for being an ass. Be careful. - D

Lori looks up from her wash basin and notices the note in your hands. She leans ever-so-slightly closer to you as she attempts to peek over your shoulder. 

“What is that?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you realize just what this is — Daryl’s attempt at extending an olive branch. He is trying to make things right with you because, despite what he might have said to Merle last night, he cares. You haven’t misinterpreted his actions or become attached to a man who wants nothing to do with you. Quickly, you fold the paper back up and stuff it in your pocket.

“Just something that Daryl left in his pocket. Nothing special.”

But that’s a lie. The note would probably be insignificant to anyone else in the quarry camp. But to you, it means the world. Like Dale’s simple act of offering you a stack of books, it’s a reminder that though your world may be falling apart at your feet, there are still people who will show you kindness in an increasingly cruel world.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@dreamtofus

@youcantstandit

@ajlovesdilfs

@prettywhenibleed

@luvsvnlqt-things

@strnqer

@marina-isabella

@lissanovak

@elissanatok

@luv-4-aria

@moejoeflow-blog

@ceoofdisappointment

@jewellthebooknerd

@callsignwidow

@genderless-ghosty-boi

@all-will-be-well-love

@tabzthemightyyyy

@mychemicalimagines

@nosebleeds-247

@catradora333

@punicorn999

@tybsbnbn

@i-wear-wet-socks313

@sunny92sworld

@echothy

@ta3baee

@rottngzombi

@rhey-007

@all-will-be-well-love

@azanoni

@ritosparty

@vaniniweenie

@nameless-ken

@ibuch7

@theunfortunateshadow

@j0joworld

@marauder-exe-old

@hello-emma

@ziziriaa-blog

[nishibons]

𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐄 . . .

or piwon pining thoughts/texts

warnings na genre fluff word count eight hundred excluding texts

note hiii everybody!! sorry i disappeared for a bit but ive been busy with uni TT i got an 85 on my recent assignment tho so everybody cheer… anyway ive been obsessed with piwon lately hence this post but fear not i have an enha version coming soon

keeho

confident but humble. he doesn’t have any expectations for your relationship but hopes that you’ll eventually catch on to his borderline obnoxious flirting, and better yet, reciprocate. if you do happen to return his feelings, he doesn’t waste any time in asking you out properly, because why wait? his friends say he laughs too loud around you for you to not know about his feelings, but he swears that they’re just being dramatic… he’s so normal and chill about you, really, that joke about the refrigerator or something was just funny!

taeyang

an absolute menace. you end up assuming that he hates you with how he stares you down whenever you enter his vicinity and with how he exchanges hushed whispers with his friends from across the room, silenced only when he turns his head far away enough to steal glances at you. eventually, once he asks for your number under the guise of it apparently being weird that you were the only two between your mutual friend groups to not have exchanged numbers, he plays into this idea, hoping he can pull off some sort of enemies to lovers trope, because it always works in books, right? in truth, he’s just a little bit apprehensive about the vulnerability that comes with liking someone, and tries to preserve his pride with thinly veiled insults that upon second glance quickly fall apart. can you melt his icy cold heart? (the answer is yes.)

jiung

likes you from the very beginning, but is a strong believer in the idea that lovers should be friends first, so he tries his best to establish a genuine relationship with you before he even begins to think about making any moves. he shows strong initiative even throughout your friendship–whether it’s invitations to meet up for lunch, to see that movie you’ve been eagerly waiting the release of, or even paying for your coffee every single time, he’s quick to assure you and dispels any worries you might have about repaying him with a wave of his hand and a bright smile–your company is enough, he says, and if you end up falling for him (who wouldn’t?) he, of course, eagerly awaits the day he can take you for an actual date, but enjoys every moment he spends with you until then just as much.

intak

by far the most shameless with his affection. he can’t help it–you have him hopelessly whipped from the very beginning and he’s terrible at hiding it anyway, so why not lean into it? the first to jump up from his seat when you mention being thirsty–water or juice? and the first to compliment you regardless of the circumstances of your meeting, even on those days you can’t manage anything but a sweater pulled hastily over your shoulders and a messy updo. it’s impossible not to feel flattered around him, and he’s honestly not even actively trying to flatter you, he’s just being wholly honest. if you ever want to shut him up, just compliment him back–hopefully you have a stretcher on hand!

shota

the cutest ever. you catch him staring at you more than a few times before he eventually works up the nerve to approach you, and initially you’re intimidated–but the moment he opens his mouth you know that he’s harmless, and obscenely adorable to beat. he’s not the greatest at expressing himself with words, so he makes sure to show that he likes you by sending you things that remind him of you–songs from an artist he likes, those little figures you collect he sees in the window of a store on the way to work, a rainbow in the sky after a rainy morning. sometimes he provides some commentary, or a cute emoticon, and other times he says nothing, sending only a simple picture and hoping that you can feel even just some of the many emotions that rush through him at the thought of you and have his heart fluttering in his chest when you eventually reply.

jongseob

the sweetest of angels. he doesn’t crush often, but when he does, he crushes hard, so he doesn’t want to mess it up. though he’s rather reserved on the flirting front, he makes sure to send good morning and good night texts every day, without fail, on top of the seemingly random yet innocuous questions he asks throughout the day–what did you eat for lunch? how was work? any thoughts on this new album that just came out? part of it is in hopes that eventually you’ll fall for him as he did you, but he does also take genuine interest in you as a person and wants to know everything about you there is to know if you’ll just give him the chance. flirt with him at all and you’ll very quickly have him turning into a giggling, indecipherably stammering mess.

[banshees-martin]

tell your 'baby' that IM YOUR BABY

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Onstage

What - it's nothing to panic about, Lori's secret pregnancy, Shane's changes for the worse, Sophia gone for over a week, and now a barn full of walkers. It's fine. No big deal, nothing is wrong, so you're gonna step onstage and act like it. On the bright side, Daryl isn't stuck in a bed anymore!

When - the morning after Keep this dog asleep. (the night where Glenn discovers the barn in Season 2)

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl. You're also Shane's younger sibling

Pronouns - she/her

TWs - a few cusses, panic, bad screenshots

References - lots, y'all, want the Masterlist?

Length - longer bc I've been awol, I've been dreading posting again, friends, so thank you much for reading. Kind feedback is always welcome :)

“Goodness. You two slept together.”

“Wha—Carol!” you squeak, accidentally splashing some coffee on your hands while you’re at it, to which Carol apologizes, “Oops!”

Glenn and you fell asleep beside each other, by the fire pit. You two must have conked out while staring at the barn.

Brr, the sun hasn’t warmed the day yet, you’re like an ice-pop.

“Wh’appened?” Glenn mumbles, still half-asleep in Dale’s camp chair.

Carl, freshly freed from the house and now officially back to the tents, also wanted to know, “What was the joke?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Carol whispers in your ear and wipes the coffee off your hand with a tissue she had in her pocket.

That ship has sailed, Carol!

Lori smiles and shakes her head, and hands Glenn a coffee cup. “Carol was teasing them about having spent the night out here. Must’ve stayed up far too late having fun.”

“‘Fun,’” Glenn groans to himself, blindly nursing his coffee. You notice he winces and reaches for the back of his neck when he tries to bend it forward. Must’ve slept on it wrong.

“How late did you guys stay up?”

“I don’t even know, little man,” you answer Carl while reaching out for a hug. “But ‘far too late’ sure is correct.”

He returns your reach and hugs you back, tucking his head down across your neck like he used to when he was little. You press a kiss to his temple and hold him awhile longer, not wanting to let go first.

It’s good to have started the day on an up-note. You’re already on guard this morning. Less so about the genuine, bona-fide barn full of walkers on the property and moreso that Glenn won’t keep the secret long enough.

Which is backwards, but…the worry is that Shane will, um, and, and— oh God, and Carl can’t go near it! What are you gon—

“—Here, Maggie left these for you two.” Lori has returned and plunks down what resembles an Easter basket filled with peaches.

“Wait, should you be lifting heav—” Glenn cuts himself off, apparently having woken up a brain cell and remembering the pregnancy is still a secret.

You run onstage and speak up for Lori. “That’s how her arms stay so toned. Can you believe she hand-whipped the cream for the ambrosia?” Solid improv.

Lori seems to tamp down on whatever frustration she’s feeling. “It’s not heavy, Glenn.”

“Mom can lift so much, that puny basket of peaches is nothing,” Carl tells him, apparently thinking Glenn was being dumb.

Rattled, it takes a moment before Lori recalls what she was talking about. “Maggie also gave us a bucket filled with tomatoes along with another big bowl of eggs. We have to find a way to thank them. They’ve done so much.” She sighs. “Even last night, we cooked the meal, but they provided the food. Meat, even. All we contributed food-wise was the field green salad and the two cans of creamed corn.”

You’ve got to keep it to yourself that by not revealing the Greene’s massive secret about a barn full of walkers, you’re certainly giving them some kind of fucked up recompense.

And like you said last night, there are worse things to be bribed with than food. In fact, you have no immediate plans to do anything other than sit here, miserably tired, in T-Dog’s camp chair and stress-eat peaches — and stick close to Glenn lest he get the urge to open Pandora’s box about that barn.

“Carl, Miss Patricia hopefully mentioned how the barn is unstable? They won’t even go near it, and we are forbidden.” You swipe a peach and have at it. The juice dribbles down your hand and chin. Carl smirks. You snort; at least he’s seen you look grosser. So, in a very ladylike fashion, you shove the rest of it in your mouth in one bite and immediately swipe another. “There’s some kind of vermin problem, too, and you don’t want none of them diseases rats and the like carry. Keep away.”

Mid-chew, you realize that you just lied flawlessly by slipping in truth. You’re not big on lying. In fact, you hate it. You don’t do it, or, at least you think you don’t? Do you?

This and the weight of last night’s inward decision that you made sits heavy in your stomach, making the peach sink like a rock.

You’re going to leave, with your brother. Shane can’t stay here, not when the news of the baby and now the barn gets out. You’ll even go to Fort Benning despite all your misgivings. Anything to keep things from imploding here when those secrets get out. Not, um, not that you’ll stay away forever from the group, just until, um…

Well, if looks are any indication, Glenn’s also busy being miserably tired and stressed. He was the one to discover the barn’s secret, first off. And he’s not good with secrets, and now has three to contend with. The pregnancy, Shane losing his temper and physically hurting you. And now, the stupid, stupid, awful barn.

“Did your head flop down when you fell asleep, Glenn?”

“It must’ve, it’s so stiff!” he mutters. “I can’t have a stiff neck when the…”

Smart, he knows not to finish the sentence and instead resumes warily eyeing the barn. You’re grateful your neck is fine and dandy, you’re in no fit state to mess up your neck or shoulder again. For real, by the grace of God, you’d fallen asleep nestled in T-Dog’s camp chair and your neck stayed blessedly straight and untwisted.

“We search for Sophia in groups, it’s all good,” you cover for him. Carl is still next to you, so the fewer questions, the better.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but you’re restless. Seeking something to busy your hands with, you think to yourself you know what? Your friend could use a massage. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, considering you slept together (lol).

Shoving the rest of the second peach in your mouth, you consider that slurping the juice off your hand may be a mite untoward, so instead you…wipe it on the clothes you wore all day yesterday and fell asleep in…such a feminine, classy woman. Didn’t even brush your teeth last night.

Whatever, a neck and shoulder rub is the least you can do for a friend you may not see again. “Glenn, I can do you a massage,” you offer.

“Wait. Really?”

“’Course.” Let’s face it, you may not see him again after you leave. Maybe no one here, just look at the track record of losing peop — oh my gosh, crybaby much? Get your butt back onstage and act fine.

“Can you, with your arm still wrapped like that?” he checks regarding your modified sling.

“Sure can.”

“Dude, that would be, like,” Glenn sighs, then you hear Lori call for Carl, who gets up and goes to his mother. “Thank you, that would be awesome, it hurts really bad,” your friend accepts.

“Eh, it’s the least I could do, considering last night we did,” pause for dramatic effect, “sleep together.”

“What the h—”

“—Bro, I know," you drone. "That’s what Carol joked about a few minutes ago. Didn’t expect that joke outta her, right?”

“Slept together, now I get it,” he cracks up halfheartedly. But in an instant, his gaze gets drawn right back toward the barn and resettles into uneasy, blatant stare.

That rattles you. Suddenly, you become convinced he’s gonna spill the beans before the one week (at least one week!) trial. For a few moments, you feel breathless, as in you can’t inhale enough. That happened last night, too, you figured it was because of the cold air.

You cough, inhale extra deep. The sensation goes away. But now you’re starting to get mad. As you rise from the chair, you’re more than conscious of your inner kettle beginning to simmer. Not gonna lie, you sound snotty when you comment, “Glad to see they didn’t learn how to jump as high as a hayloft and find their way out yet.”

“Y/N.”

In lieu of any new comeback, you start on his neck. Immediately and likely without meaning to, he lets out a thankful groan. That warms you, and you remind yourself he’s worried for a good reason and that you love your friend.

And, strangely, then you think back to how you did this for Daryl, gave him a massage. How pleasant the closeness felt, how strange it made your stomach feel. How he’d silently cried but was vulnerable enough to ask you not to stop…

And with the jokes about you and Glenn, you’re feeling some unpleasantly conflicting emotions. Full disclosure, you’d had some hidden and very unwelcome hurt feelings when you found out about him and Maggie. Residual, you reckon, from when you’d two had a little fondness (lol Dale) for each other.

Really, you know it’s just that you’re lonely and things are stressful. More than stressful.

“Wanna kick the ball around later with the others, see if the girls can’t beat y’all this time?” Together, Jimmy and he have been an unbeatable team so far, and you three girls want to change that.

“Anything to make the pharmacy trip suck less.”

Man, you’d forgotten all about that. It’s supposed to feature none other than Glenn, Maggie, yourself, and maybe T-Dog. “That’s still on?”

Glenn shrugs. “I don’t remember. And I don’t want to go today, let’s do it tomorrow or Monday.”

“Fine by me. Naught dire we need yet.”

He unexpectedly exhales in pleasure when you must’ve hit a spot he needs worked out.“I haven’t gotten a massage since, like,” your friend sighs again, and he sounds weighed down when he continues. “Varsity baseball in high school. Appa was really good at shoulder rubs.”

“Oh.” A memory about his dad might will probably spark a whole lot of memories, and he’s still iffy about crying in front of people. “Want me to stop?”

“Heck no.”

“Are you cool with crying? Massages sometimes do that,” you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant the act itself can make folk cry sometimes.” Especially if memories get brought up.

“Make ‘folk’ cry?” he teases. "You already used the word 'naught,' too, bumpkin."

You pause the massage to give him a very light shove. “Shut up.”

Breakfast is eggs again, you can smell them cooking. The Greenes have been very generous with eggs. And, of course, now extra-generous with the peaches and some tomatoes, apparently. Maybe the thrill of yellow squash or string beans is in the future, too.

Ooh, or dairy. Oh my gosh, or red meat! Jimmy mentioned they’ve made a ton of jerky what with their cattle.

“G’morning,” you hear Shane behind you.

“Heya.”

“Morning, Shane.”

The razzing is clear in his tone of voice, but try telling that to Glenn as your brother says, “Lookin’ cute, you two. Didn’t know this was a thing now, I thought that ship had sailed.”

Yeahhhhh, Glenn wriggles away from your hands quicker than you can whine, “Shaney!” who simply cracks up, “Just teasing.”

“I’ll tease your face,” you wish you weren’t snickering back. “And you know my heart belongs to darling Theodore,” you add in an exaggerated accent.

T-Dog, unfortunately, hears, and utters a soft “Da hell?” aaand you cackle even harder. Surely he knows the not-so-secret secret that you think he’s a catch? Too old for you, but, like. What a gem.

“Glenn, my apologies.” Shane winks. “It’s too easy to rile this one up. And Dog, don’t worry.”

“It’s cool,” Glenn answers so awkwardly.

You scrunch your lips at your brother in an effort not to smile. He’s acting like himself again, the real Shane. You don’t feel as if you’re looking at a stranger, you don’t feel the urge to stay on-guard or stay onstage. “Proud of yourself?”

He shrugs with a lazy grin. “It is real easy to rile you up.”

“Mmhm, well I’m fixing to escape to Fort Benning right now, lemme just wash up first.” You insert this little seed in hope it takes root. He was planning to go there before things changed.

He was planning to go without your input or foreknowledge, too, but he was doing what he thought was best for the group. For Lori and Rick.

Until he didn’t anymore, according to what he said to Lori.

That night, the same day Daryl had almost died, was something else.

The things he said to Lori echo in your head, the confident flirting while she was visibly unreceptive and shaken.

Then you recall the way he’s been “pragmatic” and almost irritated about the continuing search for Sophia.

Then the way he blew up at you, hurt you.

And finally, how your first reaction to finding out there was a barn filled with walkers a mere one minute trek from where your people are sleeping in tents was to insist that the secret must be kept from Shane at all costs. That the secret had to stay that way because of what would happen if Shane found out.

Maybe it’s from sleeping too close to the campfire or because it was so chilly last night, but the breathing trouble is back. It's fine, this happened last night, it ended up being fine.

You cough a few times to try and inhale more deeply and ease the tightness in your chest, but you feel strange and a little nauseous. Maybe you're coming down with something.

“Lemme take over here — aw, Glenn, hey, sit back on down,” Shane insists to your friend who just tried to escape. “Heard you slept on your neck wrong. That shit stinks, man. But,” he holds out his hands and wiggles his fingers. “I got so much practice with massages from this one’s migraines, I might should switch careers. C’mon then,” he says lightheartedly.

The unease you just wrestled with lessens. This is the real Shane, the confident, even cocky, but goodhearted one.

Huh, cool, your breathing feels a little better, too.

He looks at you and points with his thumb toward the house. “The uh, the little one, what’s the blonde girl’s name again?”

“Soph—oh! Um, sorry, y-you mean ‘Beth,’” you stammer, all the mirth from a moment ago zapped.

The look in your brother’s eyes changes from easygoing to dampened to cold.

He tries to sound nonchalant behind a thin veil of both defense and offense. “Yeah, the, uh, the teenager. She asked for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” You’d be off like a shot if there wasn’t another potential time bomb to worry about.

Glenn.

To your friend, you assure in truth, “He does give a mighty solid massage.” But when you lean over enough for him to see your face, you can feel your eyes darken when you hold the finger to your lips and set your jaw.

And as you make toward the house with your coffee and another two peaches, you’re grappling with the fact that, in an effort to keep Glenn quiet so everything won’t blow to pieces, you’re behaving not unlike the very person that you’re trying to prevent from igniting the explosion in the first place.

Another worry is the way you so easily slipped in and out of being onstage.

You’ve always been one to insist on truth and honesty. It’s a badge of honor you wear with pride, and even Daryl, prickly grump Daryl, has mentioned it and appreciates that about you.

And yet, look at your conduct over the past week or so. You can certainly lie, and be believable at it. You don’t like that.

Ew, gross, you’re getting nauseous again.

As you near the porch, Beth’s soft, clear voice calls your name, and she exits the house to meet you. “I got somethin’ for you. Can you come upstairs?”

“Sure. Your dress is cute!” comes out automatically. You’re still dazed and stressed. Her sundress really is pretty, though. Briefly, you consider how it would be nice to feel feminine again.

She leads you up the stairs, and it strikes you how odd it is that you have to go upstairs for whatever she’s going to give you, right? Then, you worry that it’s to do with the barn.

And you’re right.

Or, at least, you think you are. Maggie is upstairs when Beth brings you there.

The tightness comes back, so you focus on your breathing and will your stomach to chill out. You're onstage, you need to perform.

“Y/N, hi!” Margaret says this a little overly chipper, even though her appearance suggests that she’s had about as much shut-eye as you, if not less. “Sleep okay?”

“A-About as well as you, I reckon,” you answer with a hint of humor and only a trace of a stress stutter. Buying time with a few more coughs, before you get too defensive, you play it off as if Beth does not know that you and Glenn know. “We stayed up far too late and ate way too many peaches,” you say the girl. Which is the truth, you aren’t lying! You aren't lyi — nope, don't you cry! Stay onstage, stay onstage, stay onstage—

—As it so happens, now is when you recall how you are currently carrying two peaches in your hand, so your cheeks heat. The urge to cry goes away, so small win. “I ate way too many, at least.”

Beth giggles. “I love peaches, too. I had peach cobbler as my birthday cake two years ago. The ones we grow are so good!”

“Thank you for the basket of food, by the way, it was very kind.” Very kind bribery, please keep it up, we haven’t had this much available food in months, in fact, we’ll probably do anything you ask us if you let us stay here!

“There’s plenty more where the peaches came from. The season’s almost over, but we still have bushels left to pick, the hens haven’t slowed production yet, and we’re almost out of canning supplies we’ve done so many,” Maggie responds.

Beth is opening a big trash bag on her bed that looks like it’s filled with blankets, so Maggie takes the opportunity to lock eyes with you again. She mouths, “Thank you.”

For not saying anything? “She doesn’t know we know?” you mouth back.

She shakes her head.

You relax muscles you didn’t know you were tensing.

“Yay, I got it open without rippin' it!” Beth exclaims. “Y/N, Maggie and I had gathered up a bunch of clothes for charity, but that’s when things got, w-well,” she halts, unsure of how to describe the outbreaks. “The bad things happened, but, um, we, well, we still had all the donations bagged. Daddy and Shawn also…” She quiets at mentioning her deceased older brother and turns weepy.

Her big sister finishes for her. “Shawn donated clothes, too. And Mom.” She swallows. “There’s plenty to share with your group, is what she means.” Maggie nods her head at the bag on the bed, then to two others on the floor.

They're sharing...all of those?

You don’t get a chance to ask it because Beth is already answering. “When I saw how y’all looked, it was scary. The,” she starts, then stops. “Not that you were scary, I meant y’all must’ve been out there a long time. It’s scary to think about.”

“In your defense, I did look scary the first time you saw me.” Wild hair, sweat-drenched, sobbing, and covered in Carl’s and your own blood. Rough day.

But having been ‘out there,’ as Beth worded it, it’s not so scary when you’re with a group you trust. It even feels comforting to have them all. Which is when you consider how Shane and you will be back out there in a couple weeks, alone.

“Here.” Beth shyly points to the bag. “I wanted to offer for you to look through the bags first. If, if you want.”

The offer is (more) bribery to keep you quiet, which cools the warmth of the charity, but doesn't lessen the grateful tears you spill. Plus, yes, you all could use some fresh clothes, there’s only so much mending that can be done. And to be offered first dibs, even if it’s just to butter you up, is still being offered first dibs. “I’d love to take a look, thank you,” you say in earnest.

Beth combs through the bag and chats in her shy manner, handing you a barely-worn, calf-length dress that had been gift for Maggie, then a (pure wool?!) cardigan their mother had been giving away.

You find it hard to believe that she’s doing this as bribery, Beth doesn’t seem the sort to easily conceal things. She’s got an innocence that hits as genuine.

But, then again, you who hate dishonesty are apparently great at it. Who’s to say she’s not, too?

The breathlessness briefly comes back. You clear your throat and cough once.

Beth next, to your apprehension and then delight, has you try on the dress and cardigan (which shockingly fit). While retying the modified sling around your upper arm, Maggie keeps trying to catch your eye again in order to, you don’t know, communicate something via meaningful glance? But you don’t have the bandwidth for it, so return her look with a polite smile and shrug.

Her little sister then proceeds to gussy you up in a way reminiscent of how Amy did once at the quarry camp to see how Glenn would react. Gosh, was that only two-ish months ago, wasn’t it? Or has it been longer? It feels like longer.

Beth has manages a quick, respectable braided style for your hair, touches up your eyebrows for you, and even adds blush. She then claims that your hiking boots “look okay” with the ensemble and has you use the full length mirror in her closet to inspect the full results.

The dress is lovely, you have to admit. The neckline doesn’t dip too low bonus that it doesn’t show your bruise, the waist is defined, and it’s long enough past your knees to be comfortable. The length also helps lessen the lingering apprehension you have about showing natural (*cough cough unshaven*) legs.

You actually feel…pretty. Been a while.

It’s as if she knew you were yearning to feel girly again. If this is bribery, you welcome it. Worse ways of being bribed than with fresh food and a makeover from a genuinely sweet kid. And hey, since you have to be onstage so much, might as well dress nicely for the audience.

When you’re walking downstairs to bring your people the donations, Maggie murmurs in your ear, “Y/N, I didn’t put her up to any of this, it was all her.”

When you pull away from her, she's insistent. “It wasn’t her bein’ nice to keep you quiet. Remember, she doesn’t kn—”

“—Good mornin’, girls. What’s in the bags?” Patricia’s voice calls from the bottom of the stairwell.

“We had some clothes to donate since before Easter,” Beth answers. “I figured they could use ’em.”

“They certainly could. I’m glad I have plenty I brought from my house when we moved in.” You can see Miss Patricia in the hallway by the stairs, clearly wearing one of her late husband’s shirts over her dress. Her brows lift. “Seems you dolled your friend up some. You clean up nice, sweetpea!”

“Thank you, ma’am. I-I do feel like a lady again,” you allow, your cheeks again warming.

“Never stopped being one, as far as I’m concerned. Always kept your Ps and Qs,” she’s kind enough to maintain. “Oh, speaking of ladies, I don’t know how y’all are doing on girls’ supplies, but we should have enough to share while you’re still with us.”

“Margaret and I were gonna look for some more on the next drug store run tomorrow or Monday to make sure you’re well stocked.” Along with everything else on the list(s) that was forgotten when those two…got distracted.

Ugh, how different things would be if you’d gone along for that trip! None of this barn bullshit!

Again, you feel the need to cough to help you breathe better, so you cough twice and try clearing your throat.

“Uh-oh, sounds like cold and flu season is well on it’s way,” she muses. “Don’t let me keep you holding them bags all day, girls. It’ll be funny watchin’ your daddy react if one of them ends up dressed in his giveaways,” the woman comments wryly. “Now, I did intend to check on those stitches today, Y/N, so come see me later. Hersh is just finishing up with Daryl’s, in fact, then he’ll be all set to go, if you were wantin’ to see him out.”

Oh, right! Today is finally the day he’s leaving that room!

Carl, too, but he’s already out and has been wandering around outside as much as his energy and mom will allow (which isn’t very much yet).

Daryl, on the other hand, has been too dizzy and too ashamed to do much more than a trip around the perimeter of the house.

Carol and you cleaned his tent yesterday as a surprise. It was her idea, of course. She enlisted your help specifically because you twice mentioned not thinking his sweat smelled bad, which is weird, but, for real, it doesn’t smell bad to you. The cigarettes, on the other hand, ew.

“Are we not going today?” Maggie asks quietly about the postponed pharmacy trip.

With tact, you suggest, “We could all use some rest after stayin’ up so late.”

She peers into your eyes, then nods and adjusts her hold on the two bags in her hands.“That’s a good idea. I’m not up to it, either.”

Upon stepping back outside onto the front porch, Jimmy and Glenn are kicking the soccer ball around already. Glenn is keeping his neck taut as he and Jimmy go back and forth, but the pain must have lessened.

The irresistible urge you have to make light of everything seizes you, and you leap into matchmaker mode because, why not? You won’t be here much longer, and maybe Maggie and Glenn linking up will lead to the rest being permitted to stay. That’s what matters.

Oh, and, uh, because you love Glenn, and Maggie is kind…oh fuck, are you just a calculating, cold strategist?

The feeling that you’re running out of air and going to vomit returns, but you push yourself onstage and commit to the role. You have to keep your shit together.

“Ain’t he handsome when he plays? Good sportsmanship and confidence rolled into one.” You playfully hold a smile back when you glance at Maggie and giggle to hide your heavy breathing. “Also the shiny hair.”

“He does have great hair,” she softly agrees.

“Y/N, do you and Glenn like each other? I-I thought…” Beth’s face has paled.

Maybe that’s why you over-act when you exclaim, “Of course I like him, that’s why I’m such a great wingwoman for him.”

Margaret blushes. “Let’s get these bags to their camp.”

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

Him

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

“I can’t hunt?”

“You can do as you please,” the old man remarks. What, is he making fun of him? “But doing so while recovering from a concussion would be foolish, as would be heavy lifting or other strenuous activity, and that’s not considering your collarbone and ribs. I’m curious as to how you’d wield your weapon or bring back what you hunted, for one, if you would even make it off the property without keeling over.”

Daryl bites his tongue and keeps his words to himself. Well, fine! I can still bring that little girl back. She’s got legs, she’ll be able to walk on her own.

Hershel cleans up his stuff and stands. “Now, then, I’m sure you’re ready to finally see yourself out.”

“Damn straight,” is probably not the smartest response in front of the old man, what with the cuss word, but damn straight he is ready to get the hell out of there. Still, he remembers his manners. “Thanks for everythin’.” He even holds out his hand for a shake. Which is dumb because the guy’s hands are full.

Daryl…puts his hand back down and grabs the few things he had in there with him. Y/N once described the Dr. Farmer as ‘unreadable.’ Definitely is that.

Unreadable, Hershel drawls, “It’s good you’re on the mend,” and inclines his head toward the door. “After you.”

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

You

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

Dude, you had a panic attack.

It wasn’t too too bad, all things considered. Initially, you’d thought it was a mild asthma attack, but in hindsight, wow you were oblivious to all of the signs.

It started to happen when some of the group was going through the clothes, right after Maggie and you dropped them off and she left to do choring.

Lori was beside you, low-key beside herself trying to figure out how your people could “ever repay the family now?”

Next, T-Dog joked about the sizes being too small for him. “Ain’t sure what here I could fit that won’t result in a show for y’all.”

This is when Andrea murmured to Carol, “Reminds me how it’s been awhile.” The way Carol reacted clued you in that it might have been a sex joke. Especially given the way Andy next gave your brother a once-over as if you weren’t right there. You vividly recall licking your teeth and rolling your eyes.

Then Shane — and he did this without having seen Andrea do the once-over — nudged T-Dog in the ribs and began to unbutton his own top. “Worse things than a show these days, friend. And that there clean shirt is calling my name.” Naturally, he proceeded to swap garments right where he stood.

Per usual, Lori was more graceful than you. She ignored it as if he were her own brother acting like a frat boy, and merely continued to sift through one of the bags. She smiled upon finding something, tapped Carol on the shoulder, and handed it to her.

It’s been a week now since Shane betrayal to her and Rick. Even you’re still figuring out how to see him. The hopeful part is that he’s been leaving Lori alone. If his sights have indeed turned to Andrea, all the better.

Back to the moment, then you imagined what if he and Andrea got a little too close, did something foolish, and she ended up pregnant, too. Not that Lori’s baby is Shane’s, the baby is Rick’s regardless, but...

The tight feeling returned in your chest.

It was in the midst of this that Dale complimented you. “Kiddo, you’re all gussied up! Any occasion?”

“Mmhm, all dressed up for the ‘show.’” The nausea was back, plus a fun new notion of being observed by unseen persons.

Dale just nodded with raised brows, and you and he shared a look. Instead of tempering your fears, it piqued them. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Horvath’s expression started to mirror the way he stared into your eyes after catching Shane lose his temper and leave you with a bruise on your sternum.

The fears within you, the stress, the dread, all started roiling stronger and stronger. You cleared your throat, then coughed, but it didn’t help and you felt restless and, oddly, cornered.

And so, not knowing where to look therefore looking in all directions, you happened to spy Glenn staring at the barn. Again.

The air felt too…thin? And then you noticed Lori examining the torso of one of the shirts in the bag as if testing it for stretchiness or room. You could see the shadows clouding her face right before she abruptly put the shirt down. Then, there was Carol, holding up something that had clearly must have been Beth’s a few years ago, and it looked as if it would fit Sophia perfectly now.

It was just about then that your lungs simply couldn’t keep up.

“Kiddo?” sounded in your ear.

You may have panted something to do with “puffer,” referring to your largely unused inhaler. At any rate, instead of next going to the logical location of the RV to find the med bag, you made for the treeline. You didn’t want anyone near you, didn’t want anybody to see you, didn’t want a fuss, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want anyone to even think about you, so you had to hide.

Panting, a numbness started to affect your fingers and spread to your torso and toes. You repeatedly coughed in an effort to break up whatever was making it hard to breathe. Once you started coughing, it dominoed. Your stitches were tugging at the forceful coughs, and soon, you were hacking. The hacking led to retching, one, two, three times. Tears started to fall.

“Baby, here,” came from your right and a warm, delicate hand touched the small of your back. Lori. She pressed the inhaler into your hand. “I shook it up, it’s all ready.”

Bending forward slightly to open your airways, you tried to exhale enough so you could take the dose properly as you clasped the trigger.

One puff. Hold breath in.

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

Another puff. Hold breath in.

The relief that usually comes with the medication wasn’t as apparent as it normally would be. It helped somewhat, but. You tried another dose.

More tears of frustration. You panted that you thought your were going to pass out. "F-Feels like m'gonna die," you may have also said. The phantom sensation of your hand being covered in Amy's blood returned. You recall wiping it with the hem of your dress, and Lori taking your hands, preventing you from continuing to do so.

Lori calmly instructed you to, “Try this with me, honey,” and slowly breathed in through her nose. You copied as best you could.

She then slowly breathed out through her mouth. You copied as best you could.

Over and over she coached you.

Things started to ease. Your pulse was still loudly thumping, but two doses of a corticosteroid will do that. In your escape, you’d made for the big rocks where you’d shared (sort of) a cigarette with Daryl. The stones felt nice and cool, and Lori’s gentle rubbing of her hand across your back was comforting.

“Been a while since you’ve needed the inhaler. ‘Decorative,’ you called it once,” she softly chatted. The sensation of not getting enough air wasn’t quite gone just then, but you felt pretty normal again.

“I reckon the cold and the smoke must’ve done me in,” you mumbled. Your throat was mildly sore after all the coughing. “It’s good it was mild.”

“Were you wheezing?”

“No, I…just couldn’t breathe enough or something.” You shrugged. “I don’t always wheeze when I need it.” Your nose was stuffy from crying.

She was thoughtful for a moment, and had begun to lightly scratch your back. “You and Glenn seem off this morning. I’ve seen you two tired before, but today you both seem…there’s something else going on, clearly. Did you two fight?”

“Not exactly.” It’s true. “We’re on the same page.” You weren't prepared to have to go onstage again, but just in case, you tried pulling yourself together.

“Was it about Maggie?”

You laughed genuinely. “Ha, not at all.”

Lori didn’t mirror your laughter or even smile in return. “Honey, I think you had a panic attack.”

At first, you protested. “Oh, it wasn’t that dramatic.”

“It looked different from where I was. But even still, it didn’t have to be or feel ‘dramatic’ to have been one, you know that.” The nonjudgemental straightforwardness in her voice, in her eyes, was enough to convince you that she could see straight into your heart and read what was there. “Y/N, is there something more going on?”

More than anything, at that moment, you didn’t want to lie to her.

But what could you do? Tell the truth, yes, 'the truth will out,' you know that. But you were convinced that telling the whole truth, right then, would be like lighting dynamite.

In your view, you would be exposing everyone to chaos and even violence, and you'd all seen too much of that already. And no, you couldn’t just tell one person because it never just stays with one person. Lori was/is not in any position to have more fear on her plate.

So what did you do?

You crawled back on that stage and you lied — by telling the truth.

“I’m worried he’ll talk.” Vague and a lie of omission, and maybe a little throwing your friend under the bus, but Lord have mercy on you, it was truthful.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, too. Oh honey, I’m so scared!” she whispered, covering her mouth.

So scared of Shane, just like you are. “Rick won’t hold any of it against you. We all thought he was dead.”

She shook her head and stared at the ground.“But you saw how Shane behaved, you, you heard the things he said, Y/N,” she nearly hissed. “I don’t know who that man was, but it wasn’t Shane, just like when he had m—” then Lori cut off.

“When he had what?”

She shook her head again. “Seems Dale’s on his way over. He told me about what was going on so I could bring your medicine to you. He hadn't known what 'puffer' meant." And —oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry that you’re worrying yourself like this over my mistake! It's not fair to you.”

“Your kid ain’t a mistake, it’s so good that they’re here,” you replied in total honesty. First time all day.

Maybe she’ll be honest with you and spill whatever Shane did that she’s not being upfront about. Whatever it is could surely have been described in a sentence. “What else did Shane do, Lore?” It can’t have been that bad, or could it?

All she did was shake her head once more. “Like you said, he hasn’t been himself.

‘Hasn’t been himself.’ Fine. You’ve got secrets, too, so there’s no way on earth can you cast stones.

You stepped back onstage for hopefully the final time, and made yourself deliver the next lines. “That’s why we’re goin’ to Fort Benning.” Without you all. “Just him and me. Within two weeks, I hope?” The nausea still hadn’t gone away, and simply saying this brought it back.

Her brows sunk caution. “When was this decision made? I-I thought—”

“—I ain’t told him about it yet.” The bitter smile, you hadn’t been able to stifle. “Shouldn’t be hard to convince him, considering he was fixing to not so long ago.”

Lori’s apologetic tone wasn’t a put-on. “I’m so sorry he didn’t tell you. I had no idea you were left in the dark.”

That’s when some tightness came back to your chest, and your breathing turned faster again. “I know, Lore.”

She noticed. “Honey, hey,” she soothed, “breathe slowly, deeply." Her hand cupped your cheek. "His mistakes, his choices, his reactions are not your responsibility.”

“I know, b-but—”

“—And you don’t have to leave with him if you don't want to.”

“But wh—”

“—No buts.” Lori cupped your cheek, stood, and swiftly made toward Dale.

And here is where you hadn’t known she was going to be quite so straightforward with him.

In fact, you’d hoped she’d join you onstage and lie, too, but she behaved beyond reproach. “It was a panic attack, so please make sure to respect her privacy about it. I’ve got to check on the laundry.”

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

Him

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

Funny thing, he’s wearing the same clothes he had his accident in. He’s in the same stuff leaving that he had been when he got carried in there, except now they’re cleaned and mended.

It’s been good to be back outside, he prefers it. He can’t wrap his head around why some people can keep inside in front of a TV all day. You don’t get to hear or feel the wind indoors, can’t hear the birds and all that.

Now, he couldn’t say for sure, but stepping outside and knowing he didn’t have to go back in must feel at least half as good as getting freed from prison.

If prison was a nice-ass farmhouse without the risk of getting shanked or worse, obviously.

Merle would have some words if he heard Daryl say something like that out loud. Though, Merle was pretty settled when he was in lock-up. Fared fine.

His first view when he steps out into freedom is of Glenn and the teenage boy, kicking the ball around. Those two are straight into it and pay him no mind as he walks around them.

The rest of the group is around the picnic table, looks like they’re sorting laundry (?), therefore ain’t paying him no mind, either.

Phew.

This is good. He was wondering if Y/N was gonna parade him out or make it a big deal, but after hearing her and the other ladies talking in the hallway, she didn’t come back in. Works for him, he doesn’t like a crowd.

…But, like, where is she? He figured she’d be around, is all, but she ain’t by the table.

Ah, yeah, duh — she's probably still doing something with the girl that's about her age and her little sister. Still seems off Y/N and Glenn are only “five or six years younger” than him, but that’s what Y/N has said a few times.

The next thing he sees is Lori, who is swooping down the yard and toward the big rocks where he and T-Dog took a smoke break once. And where Y/N had her first try of a cigarette, too. Lori looks like a woman on a mission, damn. Dale is staring in the direction Lori is walking, those big-ass brows of his slanted downward. Wonder what that's about?

Over the sound of a few leftover end-of-season cicadas, he hears the normal drone of crickets, light talking from the group, the thunk of the ball getting kicked, a very loud crow, some cows mooing, somebody coughing, birds doing their thing, chickens clucking, the wind blowing. Mmm, good stuff. Being inside and hearing it just don’t sound as good as being right out in it.

Then, “Daryl!” comes from his left, and he sees Carol walking to him. She’s a good woman.

And now the memory of her kissing him on the cheek is making his cheeks heat up as quick as her steps toward him.

“I’ll carry those for you,” she quietly insists about his small pile of clothes. He lets her.

She’s been very, um, very attentive. Been having most of her meals with him, babying him as much as he’d allow, and all-in-all has been treating him extra after he had his accident.

There are more coughing sounds that he almost pegs as being Y/N’s, but when he looks back in the direction of the noise, there’s no one, just Lori off on her walk, and it wasn’t her doing the coughing.

“We moved your tent closer to the rest of us, so you would be closer to where we could help you.”

Closer. Great. Daryl wanted nothing less, but a kind gesture is a kind gesture, so he mans up and acts proper, grunting, “Thank you.” It’s not like they went and messed with his stuff, they just moved the tent, and for a real kind reason.

Glenn rears and kicks, sending the ball soaring. Damn, he's good.

“Now, it may smell and look a little different, but all of your things are still there.”

“Huh?” What’d she mean?

“You deserved a nice, clean place to go back to,” Carol explains. “Y?N and I cleaned up your tent.”

…

...

…they what?

He gets the weirdest image of himself as being onstage and forgetting whatever it was he was supposed to say next, leaving him standing there like a mouthbreather in front of the audience. And he kinda wants to cuss the audience out.

His first idea after learning Carol and Y/N was: What the hell, y’all been messing with my stuff? What gives y'all the right?

But, come on, even he had it in him to keep his mouth shut. They’d taken the time and effort to clean up his shit and it was probably as nice as when Carol had worked her magic in the RV. That's damned decent, in fact.

So, Daryl does not act like a jackass, and instead, remembers his lines and thanks Carol again.

“It was no trouble. How about I bring you some more breakfast once you’re settled in?” she quickly offers. See? Very attentive. And he didn’t do shit to have earned it, which made it more uncomfortable.

Aw shit, his cheeks feel all warm again. First around Y/N, now Carol? Maybe there is something to this whole concussion bullshit.

Or, maybe Carol done kissed you on the cheek and said you were a good man and that you did right by her little girl as much as a father should and that’s the best possible thing somebody could be told.

“Do you want some more coffee, too?”

I wanna to be left alone, lady. “Nah, m’great. Thank you.”

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

You

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

“Last night seemed to be an indication summer was officially over. But today,” Dale blows through his lips, “Well, we can already tell it’ll be a warm one.”

“Did we hit the first day of fall, yet? I forgot what date it is today.”

“No, that’s on the 21st. We’ve got some time.”

“Oh, wait!” you squeak (ouch, your throat is still sore from coughing). “Ain’t it the Holy Days for you still?” Rosh Hoshanah was sometime last week, but that one got sort of messed up because of everything that’s been going on.

Oh man, it was the day after Daryl got into his accident, wasn’t it?

Dale’s cordial expression falters. “Yes, it was last week.”

“Yom Kippur is soon then, right?”

“It’s on the 18th this year, yes. Two days away.”

There’s this very insistent raven that’s been cawing away. Or is that a crow? You can’t tell the difference. You can tell that you’ve bummed Dale out, however. “I’ve bummed you out.”

Smiling sadly, he concedes, “Jewish holidays are usually lonely ones in mixed company. And now, especially with it being the holiest time of the year, after everything…” He lifts his shoulders.

“I’ll do the fasting with you so you won’t be alone!” Ow, stop raising your voice so high. “Is it no food or drink at all on that day, or is water okay?”

A happier smile. “No food or drink — barring serious health concerns, of course, in which case, one is required to not fast.”

“No water must suck! When my lot do fasting, water don’t count.”

He nods his head once. “It’s all part of the atonement. It’s considered a blessing for us to fast for it.”

“And the feast after it is fun,” you sigh with a grin. You’ll enlist Carol and Lori to see about making him a yummy fast-breaking meal for the day.

This is what you needed. Dale didn’t press you regarding the panic attack, and has simply been keeping you company by the big rocks. You’ve haven’t had to go back onstage while he’s been sitting with you. You’d probably be content to stay here a good, long time if you didn’t have to use the toilet something major.

“Did you see if there was a pair of suspenders in the bags so you and Mr. Greene can match?”

“Is this your way of saying you’re feeling well enough to head back, or that you need privacy?”

“It’s my way of sayin’ I gotta go potty real bad.” You stand. “Suspenders are pretty cool, you can party like it’s 1899.”

“I actually quite like how suspenders look,” he chuckles, stretching and getting to his feet.

“Mm, they remind me of the Old West, I love ’em.”

Dale and you walk back until reaching the side of the farmhouse, whereupon you excuse yourself to head to the treeline and do your business.

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

Him

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

As soon as the heat starts to sink in, he unbuttons his shirt halfway and kicks his shoes off. Getting the socks off without hurting himself takes some effort, but it’s worth it. His stuff is so squeaky clean and fresh, he wants to avoid sweating the place up too quick.

His old pillowcase is gone, probably scrapped for dishrags seeing as it was pretty worn. In its place is a flower-covered one with soft, thick cotton fabric. There's some phrase about a 'woman's touch' that must apply here. Or, if Merle were here, prime Darylina ammo. Joke's on him, the pillowcase is soft as hell.

And being in there might seem boring, but it's 10 times better than being stuck in a damn bed and listening to music for days on end. Just cloud-watching through his tent window is fun enough for him.

In fact, it’s rad! He’s so psyched to not be in that room anymore!

Cloud watching, playing with his bolts, farting if he's gotta; he's content as can be. Seriously, he’s in such a good mood right now.

But as luck would have it, by the time he’s decided to see how easily a bolt can poke a hole through the mesh window (the answer is very easily, and it’s real satisfying) none other than Andrea herself appears at his tent door. The chick who shot him.

Now, she’s pretty as a picture and then some, but he doesn’t want his belly showing in front of her. If he’d been paying attention and heard her making her way to him, he would’ve buttoned up.

So, he tries out the same tactic as last night, when Carol walked in on him shirtless; maybe by not closing his shirt, she wouldn’t think about it? Or…fuck it, just about everybody has seen some part of him uncovered in the past week. At least there ain’t no scars on this side.

All he’s got to do is make like he’s onstage and that it doesn’t bother him having his literal nipples on display.

“Hey.” Andrea steps into his tent, looking like she is about to eat crow.

She hands him a book. He accepts the maybe peace-offering.

“It’s not that great, but…” she trails off, breathes out, and looks guilty as hell.

Y/N, Carol, and T-Dog all mentioned she’s been kicking her own ass for shooting him. Granted, he’s still a little pissed, and, yeah, real thankful that she’s a shit shot, but — she was trying to protect the group, right? Ain’t even her fault he got stuck in that damn bed. The concussion, split side, and broken ribs did that for him.

He figures he’s gotta make it clear that she’s off the hook without making her feel worse for being let off the hook. And, he thinks he knows just the way to break the tension. It’d got the librarian at his high school to laugh the first time he made the remark, which is probably why he was usually allowed to eat in there during lunch.

Now, he knows reading is still on the no-go list, don’t worry, Y/N, but he casually holds the book up and flips through the pages.

He’s gotta, it’s the setup.

It’s good that Andrea ain’t said nothing yet, because it’s the perfect opportunity for him to pretend to be dead-serious when he complains, “What, no pictures?”

The joke does the trick. Andrea smiles and relaxes. “I’m so sorry. I feel like shit,” she starts to go on, but he puts a stop to it.

Tucking the book aside as he settles down onto the pillow, he cuts in, “You and me both.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, if there’s anything I can do, I—”

He cuts in one more time, “—You were trying to protect the group. We’re good.” He means it.

But, ya know, just because things are chill doesn’t mean he can’t bust her balls a little, right? “But hey,” he stops her as she’s leaving. “Shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead.”

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

You

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

“It went great! Better than I ever expected.” Andrea takes a seat beside you on the log. Judging by the look of serenity on her face, it appears that the monkey she’s had on her back for the past week is finally gone.

“Good, m’glad.” You knew it would be fine, but Andrea was so nervous.

“And I have to say, I can see the appeal now.”

“What appeal?”

“Daryl was,” she thinks on the right word and picks: “Charming.”

Ah. You see what she’s trying to do. “Well, go tell him that, then,” you suggest, cool as a cucumber. She and Dale thought you and he had a romantic thing going on. Lol, nah.

“And he was funny!” she goes on.

You sip your tea. “Mm, he can be.”

“Not angry, or, or nasty.” She closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. “I was so worried about how it was going be.”

You tilt your head in partial agreement. He can be a dick.

Your job for the rest of the day, so Papa Dale done told you, is to be chill (yes, he used the word ‘chill’ and it was adorable). It’s your only responsibility today, seeing as he joined you when you went to check the highway spot for Sophia. She hasn’t found it, it’s untouched. Again.

So now, your job = keep chill.

“Are you helping with target practice later?”

Oh, right, and there’s that. You suppose you could continue helping Beth with drawing her weapon smoothly, keep drilling her never, ever forget to switch the safety back and forth.

But…maybe today, that isn’t your job. Maybe you need a rest from being onstage. “I think I’m gonna sit today out.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need a day,” you answer in too high a pitch.

Andy doesn’t inquire further. “How’s the little fuzzball?” she instead asks.

“Still sleeping,” you coo. The sluggish little chick you’d scooped up while quickly sprinkling feed-corn in order to feel useful is your insurance for keeping chill. Can’t not keep chill with a chick asleep in your lap.

“It must feel nice and safe wrapped up like that.”

“Mm.” The chick is nestled in a dishtowel, half its body also covered by your new cardigan.

“Y/N, have you not gone to visit him yet?”

“Not yet. He’d appreciate some time to himself, I reckon, after a week bein’ stuck in there and visitors and checkups at all hours.”

Glenn’s off doing farm chores with Jimmy, so he’s being kept busy and won’t be a concern. As for you, you’ve got your sleepy chick and are content to stay here on the log. You ate lunch, yet another peach (you’re up to six), just finished the leftover raspberries, and are now washing it all down with some fresh mint tea you made in honor of one of your best friends. She’d make her own mint tea and would call it ‘wild mint’ tea because it sounded exotic.

When Dale mentioned today’s date, you realized it was her birthday. She was the most confident girl you’d ever met, and a sweetheart to boot. You really hope she’s alive.

Andrea chuckles to herself. “I gave him that terrible book to keep him occupied.”

Book?? “A book?”

“I brought him The Case of the Missing Man,” she shares with a grin. “He can join the survivor’s club of those who’ve read it — Y/N, is something wrong?”

“Oh, um, nah, it’s all good, uh,” you are fumbling so hard right now. Cool, you’re feeling lightheaded again, cool cool.

It’s all cool. There’s no fire. Stay chill. “I’m gonna pop over and make sure he ain’t cracked into it yet, he’s, it’s, it’s not safe yet. C-Concussion and all.” Listen to you, smooth like butter.

“Oh shit.”

“Andy, don’t sweat. Even if he did start on it, like,” and you pause, because, “I don’t actually know what can go wrong, I didn’t ask Miss Patricia, but I’m sure it ain’t nothing serious!” You cup the (awoken and now loudly peeping) chick between your hands as you book it (pun intended?) to Daryl’s tent.

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

Him

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

For Y/N to glide over wearing a pretty dress, hair all fancy, and holding some little bird was not something he put on his bingo sheet.

“Hiya, Daryl.”

It takes him a second. “Hey.” Never seen her in a dress, is all. And with that little bird, he gets the image in his head of her bursting into song and the farm animals and forest critters doing a musical number with her.

He’ll *ahem* keep that to himself...

“I hope you’re enjoyin’ your new freedom! Mi—”

“—Who’s the little guy?” he had to ask first.

“It's a chick.”

Clearly. “Why?”

“It’s cute.”

She ain’t wrong. “…Can I see?”

“Yeah, it's adorable!”

He begins to get up, but she steps over faster than he can stand. She kneels beside his cot and, delicately, transfers the wrapped chick into his hands. He carefully unwraps the washcloth around it and slips his hand underneath it so sits on his palm with its teeny legs dangling through his fingers. It’s peeping like it’s getting paid for it, holy shit it’s so fucking cute.

“I came here wonderin’ if I might I borrow the, uh, the book Andrea just lent you?”

Ha, called it! The second Y/N found out he had contraband, she came to the rescue.

The chick quiets down, appearing to relax in his hand.

Maybe it’s because he’s in a good mood, but he smiles like a dipshit for a few moments before saying anything. “Nah, I wouldn’t dream of checking it out ’til you said it was fine.”

“Oh ha-ha,” she play-mocks, assuming he wasn’t being serious.

Eh, okay, maybe he was sorta razzing her, too. But he wants to come out on the other side of this whole concussion bullshit on the up, and if reading is still off-limits, it’s still off limits. He’s not gonna full-on disregard somebody who gives a shit.

“How’d ya end up dressed like that?” is his second question while he pets the chick lightly along its head with the feathers on his bolt.

“I wear this, like, all the time.”

“Oh right, yeah, you do,” he sarcastically responds. He tries to reach with his left arm to pick up the book under his cot, but gets a sharp twinge and surrenders that he can’t do that move yet.

Y/N snorts at the sarcasm and tells him straight, “The Greenes had some giveaways, so Beth gave me this outfit. Oh, thank you,” she says when he instead points in the direction of the book. She picks it up and hugs it to herself. “I do believe Carol put a few things aside for you to try on, too.”

“’Kay.”

Y/N looks pretty.

It’s nothing new, obviously her face is nice, but it's the whole blushing things that's annoying. Seems he's started blushing like a belle over all the damn women in camp these days. That really was some smack to the head he got.

He’s imagining himself as being back onstage again, forgetting his lines. He can ad-lib. “How you gonna search in that?”

“Ain’t like my ankles are tied together. Women have always been able to move, play, do manual labor of all sorts in dresses, corsets, stays, stockin’s, you name it,” she serves back with just enough fire that his belly did one of those good flippy-floppys. “That reminds me, Nervous Nelly came back! Did any of us tell you? She’s fine as can be, I fed her half a peach yesterday!”

Some of them baby hairs around her face are coming out of the braids. Her skin's got a sheen to it. And did she put pink stuff on her cheeks or something? Or is that because she was moving around a lot and it’s gotten warm out? Because her lips don’t look like there’s nothing on them but they’re nice and —

“—Dare, you okay?”

“Yeah. Tired.”

“You must be.” Why is she frowning? “You looked like you’d just got hypnotized or — you sure you feel normal?”

“M’fine, I just spaced out.”

She’s gonna have him do a thing, isn’t she? “Follow my finger for a little, please?” Ah-ha, see?

Pointer finger extended, he goes along with it for the 10 or so seconds it takes for the slight crease between her eyebrows to relax.

“Please stick out your tongue for me?” is her next request and, uh, why?

Well, he goes ahead and does it for her anyway. The hook ’em horns he makes at the same time are a sure sign he’s in a good-ass mood.

Y/N lets herself smile, then elaborates: “If it came out tilted, it’s a sign of stroke.”

Stroke? That’s a little much.“C’mon, you’re worried I had a stroke?”

She nods once. Her chest expands big as if she were inhaling really deep. “A smoker, extended bed rest, head trauma,” she quietly counts.

Is he hearing things, or does her breathing sound a little too fast?

“Can you point your toes three times?”

He point his toes three times, and yes, her breathing is a little too fast.

“Now please lift both arms parallel to the bed.”

He lifts both arms. The baby chicken is sleeping now and doesn’t wake with the motion.

“Okay,” Y/N whispers to herself.

“Tell me you’re not stressing out about nothin’.”

She blinks a few times and deadpans, “I would never.”

“Here,” he holds the chick near her face. “Get zen like this pipsqueak.”

“But you ain’t ‘nothing’ and you are at an elevated stroke risk.”

He’s only got the one word for her: “Zen.” The hovering motion he made with the chick was a fun touch, the little thing didn’t even mind.

Her expression suggests she’s trying to not smile, and, in a move he doesn’t anticipate, she leans forward to rub her nose on its beak. Her lips brush against his fingertips when she does and his train of thought derails.

Next thing, her hands are overlapping his as she gently takes the chick back and re-wraps it in the washcloth. “’Lil buddy you’re fine, you’re fine,” she coos. “I’ll grab you the hand sanitizer and leave you to some peace, alright man?” she addresses to Daryl, who's still a little distracted, so a grunt and a chin tilt is how he acknowledges this.

Merle would be laughing his ass off right now, goddamn. ‘Sweet lil virgin Darylina’ sounds about what he’d be cackling about.

Y/N flips open the cap with her thumb and squirts the hand stuff onto his palm. Smells like lemons.

So, he didn’t have that stuff before, meaning she’d likely been the one to put it in there when she’d cleaned his tent with Carol. “Hey, um, thanks for the surprise.” Damn, he’s awkward. Smells way better in here.”

“Carol is so wanting to help you in any way she can. I was in it just to see you end up with that pretty floral pillowcase. I had to stop her from hangin' the matching curtains,” she snickers, then waves him goodbye and, boom, leaves.

So…how long until his heartbeat and head stop racing?

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

You

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

Yet another stage performance today. You had to act like you weren’t distracted by how boyishly charming Daryl looked lounging there with his shirt unbuttoned to his hecking waist, good Moses. Then the way he snuggled the chick, how your legit lips bumped into his fingers?? He noticed your panicking and was all soothing and shit? Dude, and you were trying to sit like a dainty lady the whole time, too, what a poser.

Still, you think you were convincing. Oscar-worthy. Golden Globe. Emmy. Tony. Somebody hook you up with your EGOT.

Oh, and that little jab at his new pillowcase, aw yes, that was top tier friendzoning! Or — oh, it wasn’t interpreted as flirting, right? No way did you intend that! And hold up, no way he'd even care. It's Daryl.

You've earned a B- so far at being chill, you've got to get that grade up.

So, you are going to go pick fruit, alone, and you’re going to stuff your face because the show is over, you’re off stage for the rest of the day!

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

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

-> Masterlist link here <-

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 ; @oceanticspace​​​​ ; @whistlesalot ; @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer ;  @dreamingaboutthewonderland ; @kwazii-kat ; @darylsmavis ; @outlanderhornet22 ; @battinsonrobs ; @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable ; @writingmybeloved ; @boomergirl123 ; @iheartathena0 ; @moonliight-luv ; @suniloli ; @supernaturalgirl02 ; @cnake-garden ; @daryldixmedown ; @sophehe ; @crashlyrose ; @virgo-sunflower920 ; @jennythe ; @theficbaker ; @vampireautism ; @rosetta196 ; @wifeof-barnes ; @thegemthatreads ; @redjaylee ; @thegirlwiththepurpleshelves

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes! Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know in the inbox. We’re all friends here and your comfort level matters)  

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ wild at heart ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ rick grimes x greene!reader headcanons

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

╰┈➤ as the middle greene sister, you possessed the fierce loyalty of maggie, the eldest, tempered by the gentle quietude of beth, the youngest. the bond between the greene sisters was as thick as the bark of an oak tree, strong and enduring. though you welcomed a few close friends into your life, it was in the company of maggie and beth that you discovered solace and understanding, a sanctuary from the world. you and beth being the daughters of your father’s second wife made no difference to maggie, all that mattered was that you were flesh and blood, a greene.

╰┈➤ when the outbreak began, your world unraveled. acquaintances and friends went missing or left the georgia countryside, resources were scarce and so your focus on your education was abandoned for the sake of your family, you could not leave your father’s farm, it wasn’t safe, despite your father’s belief in that a cure could be found. your days were spent hauling haystacks and knelt over the rich soil, your skin burning beneath the scorching rays of the sun.

╰┈➤ it had been a peaceful morning when he arrived, a man stained in his dying son’s blood and blue eyes clouded with terror. you were drinking chamomile tea on the porch with maggie when your brother-in-law, otis, came rushing, gasping for air, yelling that a boy had been accidentally shot in the chest and needed medical treatment. maggie would go find your father, you would go help the man with his son. he said nothing then as you took the pallid boy in your arms, you would briefly look into the eyes of the man. his gaze and the distress etched onto his white face told of the love he bore for his young son.

╰┈➤ you would not learn his name until later that night, the man was rick grimes, once a sheriff from a nearby county. in the spare room where the boy had been laid for your father to deal with the bullet shards in his chest, rick had been sat by his son’s side since he arrived. with his head hung low and skin drained dry of color, he would speak to you as you inserted the needle into the crook of his elbow for the blood transfusion. “when will your father begin with the operation?” rick slurred out. he had given far more than the safe amount of blood, you would not answer his question concerning the procedure as you were unsure and didn’t want to worry him any further, but you would warn him about the danger of donating more blood. as weak as he was, rick shook his head and stuck his arm out for the next transfusion, stating that carl was his son, his life was worth little without his family.

╰┈➤ when shane broke the news that otis was mauled by walkers on the mission to retrieve the necessary supplies to save carl’s life, you broke down in tears. maggie was left distraught and left the farmhouse to grieve on the porch, beth locked herself in her bedroom and wept all night, you would go on to assist in the bullet fragment removal in spite of your anguish, you had responsibilities that could not be forgotten in the name of misery. rick would come find you after the operation had been completed successfully, “i’m sorry about otis, he was a good man.” the grave weight of his tone left no doubt of his sincerity. you thanked him for kindness and expressed that you were simply grateful otis had not died in vain, but to save a child’s life.

╰┈➤ life returned to its more mundane state, only it was not only her family present, but rick grimes and the entirety of his group, living half a mile or so from the family farm. you had met some of them, but it was rick grimes who caught your interest. he was a true southern man, family-oriented and self-righteous in his beliefs, but you didn’t find that to be an unappealing characteristic. you were coming to realize that in dire times such as these, honor was something humanity desperately needed to cling onto.

╰┈➤ maggie knew you as if you were the palm of her hand, she would tease you endlessly for your little crush on the former sheriff. flustered, you would retort by bringing up her growing relationship with glenn rhee, to which maggie would toss an apple at you for your mockery. you were somewhat ashamed and tried your best to keep your affection for rick buried in your heart, as not only was he two decades your senior, but he was married to a woman named lori and had a young child. though there were times when you questioned how happy his relationship with his wife was, but you figured it was your fascination with him that clouded your judgment.

╰┈➤ you tried your best to push aside your feelings for rick, but days turned into weeks, and your sentiments toward him only became more serious. you were shy around him, a stark contrast to your usual demeanor which was lively and friendly. rick would go on to jest, saying, “you’re as quiet as a damn mouse.” the mirth in his eyes meant he was only joking, but your father would overhear this conversation in passing. when rick left to go deal with personal matters, your father would stop you, warning you that you should stay away from rick grimes. when you argued that he was a good man and your relationship with him was innocuous, your father shook his head, telling you they would have to leave sooner or later, he was responsible for his family, not for these strangers who indulged in their strained resources. you would accuse your father of being inhumane, of essentially sending them away to die, and would refuse to speak to him the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ you would come to find out that because of a botched plan to secretly meet between maggie and glenn your father’s secret barn harboring walkers was discovered by rick and his group. rick’s so-called best friend, shane, demanded with a great deal of aggression that all the walkers be slaughtered for everyone’s safety, but these were your friends and family. your father had explained these people were merely ailing, and that once he found a way to treat them, they would return to their previous state, a notion you were becoming to doubt. yet, you still held to a sliver of hope that your mother and your brother could be saved. rick came to confront you about this revelation when you were returning from the chicken coop, “you knew the entire time? and you didn’t say anything?” the question angered you, and for the first time since he had arrived, you were not so enamored by his charm. you answered that your father knew his best how to handle his affairs and went about your daily routine of chores, but you would be distracted as you picked root vegetables and swept the kitchen floor.

╰┈➤ it was the next morning you woke to the sound of gunfire and wailing, terrified, you hastily pull on your leather boots and head outside to find your father’s barn full of walkers, its old wood tattered by bullets and the rotten corpses of family and friends left on the gritty dirt. shane walsh had decided to take matters into his own hands and kill every walker in the barn. you collapsed seeing beth cradling your mother’s barely recognizable corpse. rick would rush to get you to your feet, trying desperately to reassure you, but you pushed him aside and crawled to your sister’s side. when your mother’s corpse began to twitch and her jaw hung open, growling, she reached out to grip beth with thin claws, rick would raise his pistol and shoot her in the head. you then came to grasp what a walker truly was, they were not alive nor sick, that creature who attempted to kill your sister was not your mother, your mother was dead, your brother was dead, the corpses you saw were a monstrous husk of what your loved ones once were.

╰┈➤ your father would disappear from the farm, presumably to return to alcohol to cope, and beth was left in a catatonic state. you stayed in the farmhouse, isolating yourself as you tried to come to terms with what had occurred. it was later that evening when there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door, you were surprised to open it and reveal a rather fatigued rick grimes, standing there with a furrowed brow and a slight frown. he asked if he could come inside and you let him in. you donned only a lace nightgown that fell right below your knee and your long hair was worn loose, tumbling about your shoulders. “i wanted to say how sorry i am for what went down today. i might have been wary about the barn situation, but what shane did… that was no way to handle this.” you were silent for a minute, then told him that he was right about the walkers, they weren’t sick, they weren’t alive, and you couldn’t comprehend how her father didn’t know that. you questioned if he was perhaps in denial, unable to deal with his wife and son’s passing. rick was uncertain himself, but assured you that regardless of any mistakes your father made, he loved you and your sisters dearly. with tears welling in your eyes, rick would instinctively pull you in for an embrace in an attempt to console you, an act that was unexpected, but not unwelcome by any means.

╰┈➤ when he pulled away, you bid him farewell and wished him a good night, kissing him lightly on the cheek before he left. he smiled at you, “i’ll have your father back at home before dawn.” his gaze lingering on you before he headed for the doorway. maggie happened to come to check on you as rick left, he acknowledged her with a nod and headed for the staircase. your sister cast you a harsh glare, saying while she trusted you and rick, you should be cautious in such treacherous times, that others might not see their relationship as so innocent, especially his wife. you didn’t say anything, maggie gave you one last bit of advice before leaving, “don’t let a married man in your room at night.”

a/n: i apologize if this was a little light on the romance, however if you guys to do wish to see multiple parts i promise there would definitely be more between rick and the greene sister! let me know if you want to see a certain era such as the prison arc or alexandria arc, i chose the greene farm for the setting as season two is my personal favorite from the walking dead. i also write for many other the walking dead characters so be sure to check out my masterlist and let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[emmyrosee]

Im begging for some Akaashi moments PLEASEE😭😭😨😭

THIS TOOK FAR TOO LONG IM SORRY I HOPE YOU ENJOY 🥺

——-

“Okay, keiji, pay attention.”

“Why are my keys-“

“Shush.”

Immediately, Keiji closes his mouth, looking at you curiously, blue eyes flicking between you and the three clear cups before him on the table. Under the left cup, are his car keys, trapped under the glass. The small cat keychain you got him smiles back innocently up at him, and he makes a move to open the cup and free the tiny friend from its confines. You gently bat his hand to still his movements, which he does. “Okay. Keep going,” he says patiently.

“Under these three cups, are your car keys,” you begin to explain, and instinctively, keiji’s eyes flick to the cup containing his keys; he says nothing, waiting for you to continue to explain. “I’m going to turn around, and when I do, I want you to mix up the cups a bunch of times. If I can find the cup with your keys under it, we go get a sweet treat.”

Finally, Keiji smiles in realization, chuckling and shaking his head at your antics. “Can’t I just go get you a sweet treat?” He asks.

You shrug, “I wanted to leave it up to the universe.”

He looks back down at the crystal clear cups, “the universe seems to be rigged.”

“The universe will provide for your spouse if it desires.” You press a kiss to his cheek and spin around, “okay! Mix them up.”

Keiji looks down at the cups in front of him, and there’s a though, just a thought, of taking the keys from under the cup and hiding them, but the idea of you pouting has his heart squeezing. Even if you do deserve to be messed with a little.

He grabs the left cup and slides it to the middle, moving the middle to the left. “Okay. Mixed them.”

“You mixed them enough?” You ask. “I didn’t hear a lot of shuffling.”

“You’ll just have to pick a cup and see,” he assures.

You spin back around and hum in thought, mockingly patting your chin as if to truly be thinking about which crystal clear cup his keys are under. Your hand hovers over one of the empty glasses, then the other one, before curiously grabbing the key-glass. You cheer happily and clap, and Keiji chuckles and claps with you.

“How ever did you figure it out?” He asks.

“You have a genius living under your roof,” you sigh dramatically. “You’re welcome. I’ll be sure to use my big brain for good, rather than evil.”

“Sounds good,” he hums. “Go get shoes on, you’ve earned a sweet treat, I suppose.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you barrel down the hallway, leaving him to scrub his face with his hands, looking to the sky in amusement.

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a gf who's love language is physical affection

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments (its souly's personality), y/n is specified towards the requester, pretty fluffy

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is a request by my dear, my doll @fashionablysouly. So it might not be everyone's cup of tea. also this is so short and for what. I am starting school up again so writing will be scarce (not like i write very often now lol) anyway mwah mwah kisses

❀ he is confused as first, because he doesn't understand why somebody would want as much physical touch as you want. he gets a little bit weird about it during the beginning, and he wouldn't initiate very often.

❀ but one day, he just craves your touch. you're chilling on the couch in the common rooms and he comes to get you. he grabs you by your waist, leaning down to grumble in your ear, "we're going to my dorm, c'mon."

❀ once you were inside, he pulled you to his bed and hugged you to his chest. y'all were spooning and he was the big spoon, naturally. you were so soft and warm and bakugo couldn't get enough of touching you.

❀ after that bakugo is clingy asf and he might be touchier than you. he always has his hands on your waist, or the small of your back, or he's holding your hand. he is always touching you.

❀ don't get me started on when he gets jealous. he'll pull you into his lap, eyes coldly staring at whatever bastard decided to flirt with you, leaning down to kiss your neck. his hands rest possessively on your hips, sucking on your soft skin (even better if purple and pink hues of his love bloom on your skin afterwards)

❀ bakugo gets an ego boost with how much you love being near him (but he is even more of a simp so he can't really talk)

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[rickswh0r3]

save me white twink

taglist : @itsgrimeytime @catt-leya @addicted2twd @starkstiless @sinsandsweetness @blazemm98 @grimesgobbler @andrewstinkylinky @eternalrose81 @marlboro-reds-13 @dxrkymxrchy @nadiasgf @taylormarieee @loveforcarl @virtualreader @versatilehater

if you want to join the taglist comment here

[jinns-arcane-feverdream]

Love Without Words

Fic Concept/intro:

I am from the undercity. I grew up with Caitlyn Kiramman and Jayce Talis as friends, though I was from a small, middle class family. I’ve always felt like an outcast, and was even cast out from my family - my father worked on a different continent, and one day my mother left without me to join him after he bought a house there. I was 12, and I ended up at an orphanage. Cut to 4 years later, I left school and fled to the undercity. Now, at age 22, I’m joining in the war after my new friend, Vi, has been drawn into the depths of the fight against Noxus - siding with the Piltys. My long time friend Ekko further compels me to join the war, as he and our fellow Firelights take up arms against the invaders. Of course, the war changes my life significantly, and I will never be the same person as I was before.

Love without Words is a story of a Zaunite rebel getting entangled with a Piltover enforcer. One plays hard to get, the other observes quietly. 

Pronouns: they/them - neutral. May have AFAB characteristics in certain 18+ scenes, although I will rewrite for AMAB and neutral bodies if requested.

If you would like to follow this story, please feel free to join my taglist linked here. I hope you guys will enjoy this story! I will start posting it mid december when I feel I have enough written to be able to comfortably post once a week without stressing over making my deadlines. Estimated start of posting: December 18th.