#maggie thank you again this was so lovely!!

[rootedinrevisions]

Better Late Than Never: Alternate Ending

SUMMARY: After one too many broken promises, Glen realizes he might lose the person who means the most to him. But proving he's ready to be the man you deserve proves to be harder than he expected.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the comments and feedback on this story. Here is an alternate ending where you (and your friends) make Glen work a little harder to win you back over.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think of this version! Did you like it better than the original? I'd love to see your opinion in the comments!

WORD COUNT: 7.8K

TAGS: In Comments.

**THE BEGINNING OF THIS STORY IS THE SAME. THIS ALTERNATE ENDING PICKS UP AT THE BAR WHEN GLEN SHOWS UP** - READ THE ORIGINAL VERSION -- HERE

The music thrummed through the bar, matching the energy of the group gathered around the high-top table. Glasses clinked together in a loud, boisterous toast, followed by laughter that was as unrestrained as it was contagious. You couldn’t help but smile, letting the warmth of the moment replace the earlier disappointment that had been gnawing at the edges of your birthday.

"To another year of dodging bad dates and drinking great cocktails!" Maggie shouted, raising her glass dramatically. The group erupted in cheers as you shook your head, laughing. She nudged you with her shoulder. "And to you, finally realizing what a catch you are."

You rolled your eyes, but the grin stayed plastered on your face. "Thanks, Maggie."

The group dissolved into casual chatter, and for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe again. The sting of Glen cancelling dinner—the dinner you’d looked forward to all week—was starting to fade, dulled by the buzz of margaritas and the steady rhythm of laughter surrounding you.

“Okay, it’s your birthday, so spill,” one of your friends teased, leaning closer. “What’s the plan for your next year of life? New goals? Big dreams? New men?”

You were mid-sip, considering how to answer, when the door to the bar opened. A gust of air swept through the room, and instinctively, your eyes flickered toward the entrance.

And that’s when you saw him.

Glen.

Glen stepped into the bar, the low hum of conversation and the upbeat music doing little to calm the nerves rattling inside him. He scanned the room, searching for you, but all he could see was a blur of faces. His heart sank as he realized how crowded it was, and for a moment, he wondered if coming here was a mistake.

But then he spotted Maggie weaving through the throng of people, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him like she’d been expecting this. The relief he felt at seeing a familiar face quickly evaporated when he noticed the look on hers—unimpressed and unyielding.

“Glen,” she greeted, her voice flat as she stopped directly in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

“Maggie.” He tried to keep his tone even, but the urgency crept in anyway. “Where's she at? I need to talk to her. I need to explain.”

Maggie folded her arms, tilting her head in that way that made him feel like he was already losing. “Explain what? That you bailed on her—again? Or that you decided a party in New York was more important than dinner with her?”

He clenched his jaw, feeling the sting of her words. “I didn’t bail,” he said firmly. “I texted her. I told her I’d be late, but I’d be here. I just—things didn’t go as planned.”

“Didn’t go as planned,” Maggie echoed, her tone dripping with disbelief. “That’s your excuse? Glen, she waited for you. She planned her whole night around you. And then you just...what? Text her last minute and think that makes it okay?”

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He hadn’t planned for this confrontation, not tonight. Not with Maggie. 

“Look,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm, “I know I messed up, okay? But I’m here now. I just want to talk to her.”

Maggie didn’t budge. “And what? Tell her you’re sorry? That it won’t happen again? Because let’s be real, Glen—it will.”

Her words hit harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Was she wrong? He hated the doubt that crept in.

“She deserves better,” Maggie continued, her voice softening but losing none of its edge. “And I’m not going to let you show up now, just because it’s convenient for you, and pretend like you didn’t hurt her.”

Glen’s chest tightened, the weight of her words settling heavy on him. “It’s not like that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t want to miss dinner. I didn’t mean to let her down. I just...I screwed up. But I want to make it right.”

Maggie studied him for a long moment, her sharp gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. “You say that,” she said finally, “but actions speak louder than words. And so far? Your actions suck.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. He’d been so sure that if he could just talk to you, explain everything, you’d understand. But now, standing here under Maggie’s scrutinizing glare, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“I just...I need to see her,” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Maggie. Let me talk to her.”

She hesitated for a beat before shaking her head. “Not tonight, Glen. She deserves to enjoy her birthday without you making it about your mess. Go home.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the finality in her tone stopped him. Defeated, he nodded, stepping back. 

“Fine,” he said, though the word felt hollow.

As he turned to leave, he glanced toward the table where you were sitting, laughing with your friends. The sound of your laughter, even from across the room, hit him like a gut punch. He had no right to interrupt that moment, no matter how much he wanted to.

Walking out of the bar, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind already racing with ways to fix this. Maggie might have won this round, but he wasn’t giving up. Not on you. Not this time.

When Maggie returned to the table, she had that look—stern but protective, the kind of look that meant she wasn’t going to let you off the hook without saying her piece.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned closer, nervous to hear her answer.

Maggie slid into her seat and took a deliberate sip of her drink, her eyes darting toward the bar. “He wanted to talk to you,” she said calmly, setting her glass down.

Your stomach flipped, a mix of hope and dread rising in your chest. “And?”

“I told him he couldn’t.”

Your heart sank, confusion flashing across your face. “You what?”

“I told him you didn’t need this tonight,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “That he can’t just show up whenever it’s convenient for him and expect you to drop everything to listen to him.”

Your jaw tightened as you stared at her, struggling to piece together what she was saying. ��What did he say?”

“He said he wanted to explain, that he felt bad about missing dinner. But I told him enough is enough. This isn’t the first time he’s let you down, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin your night with some half-hearted apology.”

“Maggie...” you started, your voice trailing off.

“No,” she cut in, holding up a hand to stop you. “You’ve had a crush on him for how long now? Years, right? And you let him get away with stuff because it's him. If I did half the shit he does you wouldn't be my friend anymore. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, fiddling with the condensation on your glass.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, but let’s be real here—the crush is why you let him get away with it. If he were just some friend who bailed all the time, you wouldn’t make excuses for him like this. But because it’s Glen, because you like him, you let it slide. Every time.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumbled, though the weak protest did little to convince even yourself.

“It’s not about fair,” Maggie said, her tone softening just slightly. “It’s about what you deserve. And if he’s just your friend? Fine. Let him screw up every now and then, no big deal. But if you want him to be more than that? If he ever wants to be more than that? Then he has to act like it. And bailing on dinner to go to a party isn’t acting like it.”

You sighed, her words sinking in like weights tied to your chest. “He’s not a bad guy, Maggie,” you said quietly.

“I’m not saying he is,” she said gently. “But I am saying that you deserve better from a partner. You deserve someone who shows up, who puts you first. Not someone who expects you to rearrange your life around their schedule and call it love.”

Her words stung because you knew they were true. The hope you’d been clinging to—the idea that Glen might finally see you as more than just a friend—felt paper-thin now, flimsy and fragile under the weight of reality.

“I just...” you started, but your voice faltered. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

Maggie reached out, squeezing your hand. “I love you,” she said, her tone softening even more. “And I know how much you care about him. But you can’t keep letting him off the hook just because you want him to care about you the same way. He either steps up, or he doesn’t deserve to be the guy you’ve been waiting for.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you blinked back the sting in your eyes. “You’re right,” you whispered, though the words felt like they might break you.

Maggie gave you a small, encouraging smile. “Come on,” she said, giving your hand another squeeze. “It’s your birthday. Don’t let him ruin it.”

You forced a smile, nodding as you straightened in your seat. The night wasn’t over yet, and you weren’t ready to let Glen—or your own feelings for him—ruin it. Not tonight.

* * * * *

By the time Maggie pulled up to your place, the weight of the night was beginning to settle in your chest. The buzz from the drinks had worn off, leaving you raw and tired. You unclipped your seatbelt as Maggie parked by the curb, and she turned to you with a small smile.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly.

She then reached into her purse. She handed you your phone, and for a moment, you just stared at it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your fingers curling around the familiar weight of the device.

“Get some rest, okay? You’ve had a long day,” Maggie added, her tone light, but there was an edge of concern underneath.

“I will,” you replied, forcing a small smile to reassure her.

She lingered for a second, her eyes searching yours before she nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

You stepped out of the car and watched her drive away before heading up to your apartment. The silence of your place greeted you like an old friend, but tonight, it felt heavier than usual. You kicked off your shoes and left them by the door, shrugging off your jacket as you wandered into the living room.

Sinking onto the couch, you finally unlocked your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you in the dim room. Notifications lit up one after another, but your eyes landed on Glen’s name almost immediately.

Your heart skipped a beat as you opened his messages, scrolling through them one by one.

7:12 PM: Hey, I’m really sorry about missing dinner last night. My interview ran long, and I missed my flight. I had to stay an extra day, but I swear I wasn’t blowing you off. Can't wait to see you tonight!

You frowned, your thumb hovering over the screen. He hadn’t mentioned the missed flight last night—hadn’t even tried to explain until now.

8:07 PM: I’m running late, but I’ll be there. Just got back into Austin and hit traffic.

Your stomach tightened. The memory of sitting at the restaurant, checking your phone every few minutes, flashed through your mind. You hadn’t seen this message. By 8 you’d already given up on him.

8:46 PM: Where are you? I went to the restaurant, but I guess I just missed you.

You bit your lip, the weight in your chest growing heavier.

10:15 PM: I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down, and I hate that I keep doing this to you. Maggie said you didn't want to talk to me. Please don’t give up on me. I’ll fix this. I swear.

You stared at the screen, your throat tightening as the words blurred. His texts were full of apologies, of promises you weren’t sure he could keep. You wanted to be angry, to hold onto the frustration and disappointment, but a part of you—a soft, stubborn part—wanted to believe him.

You sighed, setting the phone down on the coffee table and leaning back against the couch. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. You closed your eyes, the words from his last message echoing in your mind.

Please don’t give up on me.

Your fingers itched to respond, to demand answers, but instead, you grabbed your phone again and typed out a simple reply: We’ll talk tomorrow.

You stared at the message for a moment before hitting send. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

As you set your phone back down, a knock at the door startled you, echoing through the stillness of your apartment. Your heart leapt, and for a second, you considered ignoring it. But something—some quiet, nagging feeling—pulled you to your feet.

When you opened the door, Glen stood on the other side, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and an almost sheepish look on his face.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice soft but urgent. “But I needed to see you.”

Your grip tightened on the edge of the door, your tired eyes narrowing. “Glen, it’s not a good time—”

He reached out, his hand gently pressing against the door to stop you from closing it. “Please,” he said, his eyes pleading. “Just give me five minutes. Let me explain.”

You hesitated, the frustration and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface. But something in his voice, in the way he looked at you, made you pause. With a resigned sigh, you stepped aside and let him in.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall near the door as Glen stepped inside. He seemed almost hesitant, like he knew he was walking a tightrope.

“Okay,” you said, your tone clipped. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I messed up. I know I did. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to let you down again. My interview ran over, and I missed my flight. By the time I got back to Austin, I figured you’d already left the restaurant.”

You raised an eyebrow, the heat rising in your chest. “And then what? You just decided to go to a party instead?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What? No, that’s not—”

“Was your interview with Alanna Norris?” you interrupted, your voice sharp.

Glen froze, the color draining slightly from his face. “What are you talking about?”

You stepped forward, your phone suddenly feeling heavy in your pocket. “I saw the pictures, Glen. The videos. You at that party with her, laughing, smiling, looking like you didn’t have a care in the world. While I was sitting at home alone, trying to figure out you didn't show up for the birthday dinner you planned for me.”

His shoulders slumped, and he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Then what was it?” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you bailed on me for some party for one of your Hollywood friends.”

He stepped closer, his hands out as if he were trying to reach for you but hesitated. “I didn’t plan to go to that party, okay? I only went because I realized I wasn’t going to make it back to Austin in time for dinner. It was a networking thing—work, nothing more. I wasn’t there to have fun, I was there because I thought it might help my career.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Work. It’s always about work with you, isn’t it?”

He sighed, his expression pained. “I know it sounds like an excuse, but it’s the truth. You know how important this weekend is to me. I didn’t want to miss your dinner, but when I realized I couldn’t make it, I thought at least I could make the most of the night professionally.”

You moved to the couch and sat down, arms still folded as you glared at him. “That’s convenient, isn’t it? You always have a reason, Glen. There’s always an explanation, but it doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t there. Again.”

Glen followed you, dropping to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of sincerity, and for a moment, you hated how much it pulled at your heartstrings.

“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. “Ever?”

Your lips parted, ready to counter him, but the words didn’t come. You wanted to call him out, to tell him he was wrong. But the truth was, he wasn’t. Glen had let you down, canceled plans, missed important moments—but he’d never lied.

You sighed, looking away. “It’s not about lying, Glen. It’s about priorities. It feels like I’m always coming in second to everything else in your life. Your job, your career, your networking events.”

He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his thighs. “That’s not true,” he said softly.

“It feels true,” you replied, your voice cracking slightly. “I waited for you, Glen. I was sitting there, hoping you’d show up, and you didn’t. And yeah, maybe you didn’t lie, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was alone on my birthday because you couldn’t be bothered to put me first for once.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve been there. No excuses. And I hate that I wasn’t. I hate that I keep screwing up with you.”

You glanced down at him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his expression. He looked genuinely hurt, but that didn’t erase the ache you felt.

“I don’t know if an apology is enough,” you admitted quietly.

“I don’t expect it to be,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “But I promise you, I’ll do better. I’ll prove it to you, Y/N. Just… don’t give up on me.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, but the weight of his past letdowns still lingered.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I need time, Glen. I can’t just pretend everything’s okay overnight.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at you one last time. “Happy birthday. I hope it was still a good one.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the faint echo of his words.

* * * * *

The next morning, you were still in your pajamas—a faded T-shirt and a pair of shorts—when the knock on your door startled you. Coffee in hand, you hesitated for a moment before peeking through the peephole.

Glen.

With a sigh, you set your coffee down and unlocked the door. As you opened it, your eyes immediately widened at the sight in front of you. Glen stood there holding a bouquet so large it nearly obscured his face. Roses, lilies, sunflowers—practically every flower imaginable—were packed into the arrangement, making it look more like a garden than a bouquet.

You blinked, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. “What… are you doing?” you asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

Glen peeked out from behind the flowers, his expression impossibly earnest. “I’m fixing this.”

Your brow arched. “With… that?” You gestured toward the bouquet.

He stepped forward, undeterred by your guarded tone. “Partly, I remember you said a few months ago no one's ever bought you flowers for your birthday. So here are flowers for your birthday,” he said with a small smile, tilting the bouquet toward you. “But mostly, I’m here to show you I’m serious.”

You hesitated, glancing between him and the flowers. “Glen, I don’t need a grand gesture—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know this doesn’t fix everything. But it’s a start. And I needed you to see that I mean it when I say I’ll do better.”

You let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking your head. “You realize this is borderline ridiculous, right?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Absolutely. But I figured if I’m going to make a fool of myself, I might as well go all in.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face despite your best efforts to remain guarded. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Glen took the opportunity to step inside, setting the bouquet down on your coffee table. The oversized arrangement looked absurdly out of place in your small living room, but somehow, it felt… fitting.

He turned back to you, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Look, I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count. And I know flowers and apologies don’t erase that. But I want to make this right,Y/N. I want to show you that I can prioritize you the way you deserve.”

You studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. As much as you wanted to stay mad, it was hard to ignore the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” you asked, your tone cautious.

“For starters,” he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “I cleared my entire schedule for the next couple days. No interviews, no networking events, no work commitments. It’s just you and me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You did that?”

“I cleared my schedule,” he repeated, holding the notebook up as if to prove it. “I told my manager I needed time off. And believe me, she wasn’t happy about it. But I didn’t care, because I meant what I said last night. You’re more important.”

The walls you’d carefully constructed around your heart started to crack, but you weren’t ready to let them crumble just yet. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” you said quietly. “But what happens when the next big opportunity comes along? Or the next party? Am I just supposed to hope you won’t drop me for that, too?”

Glen took a step closer, his gaze steady. “No. You shouldn’t have to hope,Y/N. You should know. And I’m going to make sure you do.” He paused, his expression softening. “Look, I’m not perfect. I know I’ll probably screw up again at some point, but I want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. Because losing you isn’t an option for me.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you square in the chest. For all your frustration and hurt, it was impossible to ignore the depth of his sincerity.

“I don’t know, Glen,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I want to believe you, but it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice just as soft. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me right away. I just… I want a chance to prove to you that I can do better.”

You looked away, your emotions a tangle of doubt, hope, and fear. After a long silence, you finally met his gaze again.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Glen nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just give me one more chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hand brushing yours lightly. “Friends?” he asked, offering a tentative olive branch.

You exhaled, a faint smile breaking through despite yourself. “Friends,” you agreed, though the word felt heavier than it should have.

As Glen lingered near the door, his eyes swept over your living room, still filled with traces of your everyday life—blankets draped over the couch, books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table next to the over-the-top bouquet he’d brought. He glanced back at you, his hands in his pockets again, and tilted his head with a small smile.

“So,” he began, his tone casual, “how about I take you to that coffee shop you love downtown? My treat.”

Your brow arched slightly as you regarded him, arms still loosely crossed. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning, huh?”

Glen shrugged, his grin widening. “I figured I needed to pull out all the stops. Besides, I owe you about a hundred coffee dates at this point.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite stop the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Give me a minute to change,” you said, turning toward your bedroom.

Behind the safety of your bedroom door, you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a long breath. The morning’s events played through your mind—his earnest apology, the ridiculous bouquet, his clear effort to show he was serious. It was all… a lot.

And yet, despite your lingering reservations, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him.

Shaking off the swirling thoughts, you crossed the room to your closet and pulled out something simple but presentable—a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. As you changed, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There was still a guardedness in your expression, but beneath it, a faint flicker of hope was beginning to take root.

When you returned to the living room, Glen straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and the easy smile on his face sent a pang through your chest—equal parts frustrating and endearing.

“Ready?” he asked, holding the door open for you.

You grabbed your bag and slipped on your shoes, nodding as you stepped past him. “Let’s go.”

The coffee shop was as cozy as ever, its familiar hum of chatter and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Glen had already ordered your hazelnut latte and a slice of coffee cake before you’d even had a chance to argue, his easy smile daring you to say he didn’t know you well enough.

As you both sat down, the conversation was brief but meaningful. Glen apologized again, promising to do better, and though his words carried sincerity, you held onto your guardedness. He didn’t press when you didn’t immediately forgive him, seeming to understand that trust would take more than words.

After finishing your drinks, Glen glanced at you as you walked toward the door. “What do you think about heading over to the old trail? You know, the one we used to run together?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Sure. Why not?”

You stepped onto the familiar dirt path, the trail winding through a grove of trees that were barren but still beautiful in their stark simplicity. You tucked your hands into your coat pockets, your shoes crunching against the gravel as Glen matched your pace beside you.

“It’s been a while since we came here,” he said, his tone light. “I forgot how quiet it gets out here.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about this trail,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the path ahead.

He glanced over at you, his expression softer than you expected. “I missed this.”

You let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Missed what? Running?”

He shook his head. “No. Walking with you. Talking with you. Just… spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air, the weight of them making your steps falter for a moment. You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. Instead, you kept walking, the silence between you not uncomfortable but charged with unspoken thoughts.

Glen didn’t push, letting the moment settle naturally as the trail stretched out before you.

The sound of your boots crunching against the gravel filled the silence as you walked side by side, the air between you and Glen thick with unspoken emotions. When you didn’t respond to his earlier comment, Glen glanced over at you, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Do you?” he asked after a moment.

You stopped walking and turned to him with a confused expression. “Do I what?”

“Miss spending time with me,” he clarified, his tone softer now.

You rolled your eyes and resumed walking. “Of course I miss you, Glen. You’re my best friend—when you actually show up.”

He winced but didn’t argue, nodding as if to acknowledge the truth in your words. For a few moments, the two of you walked in silence again, but Glen broke it this time with a different question.

“Are you still seeing… what’s his name?”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Evan? No, we broke up.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice laced with curiosity. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine,” you replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t really going anywhere anyway.”

Glen hesitated before glancing at you again. “So… are you seeing anyone now?”

You huffed a laugh and playfully shoved his arm. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”

He grinned, rubbing his arm as though your shove had actually hurt. “I’m just trying to stay up to date on your life. You know, since it’s been a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, giving him a skeptical look but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Seriously,” he insisted, his grin softening into something more sincere. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot.”

You glanced at him, your footsteps slowing slightly. “Yeah, well… you have.”

The honesty in your voice made him stop walking entirely. He turned to face you, his expression filled with regret. “I know. I don’t want to miss any more of your life.”

For a moment, you studied his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest tighten. You wanted to believe him, to trust that this time would be different. But after so many missed moments and broken plans, part of you still held back.

Glen glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile. “So… are you seeing someone?”

You let out a sigh, staring down at the trail ahead of you. “No, there’s no one.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you. You resisted the urge to look at him, instead focusing on the way the late morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

After a moment, you cleared your throat. “What about you?” you asked, your voice more hesitant than you intended. “Are you… seeing anyone?”

Glen chuckled, the sound light and almost self-deprecating. “Me? Come on. My life’s so crazy right now I don’t even have time to breathe, let alone have a girlfriend.”

You tried to match his laugh, forcing a lighthearted response. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You can barely make it to dinner—you’d probably be a terrible boyfriend.”

He laughed a little louder this time, and though it was meant as a joke, your words carried a heavier weight that neither of you acknowledged.

But deep down, his answer didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. Instead, it left a hollow ache in your chest, one you tried to bury as you pushed a stray hair out of your face and glanced at him.

“I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t try if the right person came along,” Glen said after a pause, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You looked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. But before you could say anything, he turned to you with his trademark grin, lightening the mood.

“Not that I’d have any luck. I’m pretty sure I’d forget our anniversary or something and get dumped immediately.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re hopeless.”

The conversation drifted after that, the heavier moments giving way to an easier rhythm as you walked the familiar trail together. But even as you laughed at his jokes and teased him about tripping over a tree root, that small pang of sadness lingered, a quiet reminder of the distance still between you.

As you and Glen left the trail, he glanced over at you with a grin. “You up for one more stop?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me now?”

He just shrugged, keeping the grin firmly in place. “You’ll see.”

Before you could argue, Glen was already pulling out of the parking lot, his hand casually draped over the steering wheel as the radio played softly in the background. You tried to guess where he was taking you, but he didn’t budge, dodging your questions with playful non-answers until the car finally rolled into the parking lot of a small, familiar diner.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Rudy’s? Are you serious?”

“Hey, you used to love this place,” Glen said, parking the car and turning off the engine.

He wasn’t wrong. Rudy’s had been one of your favorite spots back in the day—a no-frills diner with red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and the best milkshakes in town. It was where you and Glen used to come after late-night study sessions or early morning runs, a place that held more memories than you cared to admit.

The familiar bell jingled as the two of you stepped inside, the smell of coffee and frying bacon hitting you instantly. You couldn’t help but smile as your eyes scanned the space, everything just as you remembered it.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite troublemakers!”

You turned to see Donna, the waitress who used to wait on you two all the time, heading toward you with a knowing smile. She looked exactly the same, her blonde hair teased into a high ponytail and her pink uniform just a little snugger than you remembered.

“Donna!” Glen greeted, his grin widening. “Still holding down the fort, huh?”

“Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this place,” she said with a wink, before turning to you. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you two together. Thought maybe he finally scared you off for good.”

You laughed, glancing at Glen. “Not yet, but he’s been trying.”

Donna chuckled and led you to a booth near the window, promising to bring over your “usuals,” even though it had been years since either of you had been there.

As you slid into the booth across from Glen, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nostalgia. The playful teasing, the easy way you fit into this place together—it was starting to feel a little too familiar, a little too good.

“So,” Glen said, leaning back in the booth with a smirk, “I’m gonna guess she’s still got my milkshake order memorized.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean the chocolate monstrosity? Pretty sure that’s hard to forget.”

He grinned. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it.”

“I did try it. Once. And I’m still recovering.”

The banter continued as Donna brought over your orders—his chocolate brownie shake, your classic vanilla shake, and a basket of fries to share.

Somewhere between stealing fries from each other’s side of the basket and arguing over who had the better milkshake, the tension from earlier seemed to melt away. You found yourself laughing more, leaning into the playful energy Glen always seemed to bring with him.

“You know,” he said, dipping a fry into his shake with a mischievous grin, “I forgot how much fun this is. Just us, hanging out. Feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. But as you looked at him—his messy hair, his boyish grin, the way he seemed completely at ease in this moment—you couldn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kind of does.”

After finishing up at the diner, Glen walked you back to the car, the remnants of your milkshakes still in hand. The air between you was lighter now, filled with easy smiles and the kind of camaraderie you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re not taking me home, are you?” you asked as he pulled out of the parking lot, your tone both skeptical and amused.

“Not just yet,” Glen replied with a mysterious grin. “I’ve got one more stop in mind.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re full of surprises today.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you deserved a day of going down memory lane,” he said, his voice softening just slightly.

The drive didn’t take long, but the familiarity of the route had your curiosity growing. When Glen turned onto the winding road leading up to the old scenic overlook, your brows shot up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, a laugh escaping despite yourself.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“This is where kids used to come to make out, Glen.”

He smirked, pulling the car into one of the gravel spots near the edge of the overlook and turning off the engine. “Well, yeah. But it also has a great view.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling as you climbed out of the car. The overlook hadn’t changed much—still the same grassy clearing that opened up to a breathtaking view of the valley below. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in warm hues of gold and orange.

Glen joined you at the edge, leaning on the old wooden railing as he looked out at the view. “You know, I remember finding you here more than once back in the day,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something almost nostalgic.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school,” he said, turning to look at you. “Whenever you were upset or needed space, you’d come here. Usually by yourself. I’d end up driving by and seeing your car parked here, so I’d stop to check on you.”

You frowned slightly, the memories flickering to life. “I wasn’t upset. I just… needed to get away sometimes.”

“Run away, you mean,” Glen teased lightly, a grin tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t running away. I just liked the quiet.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But you’d always talk to me when I showed up. Even when you said you wanted to be alone.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t remember you being this sentimental.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly with his.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees and the distant hum of cicadas filling the air.

“Why’d you bring me here, Glen?” you asked after a moment, your voice quieter now.

He glanced at you, his expression more serious. “Because I thought maybe you could use a little peace. And because I know this place means something to you.”

Your heart gave a small, involuntary flutter at his words, but you pushed the feeling down, turning your attention back to the view.

“This place is nice,” you said softly. “I forgot how much I liked it here.”

Glen nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just wanted to remind you of the good stuff. The stuff that hasn’t changed.”

You looked over at him, his profile outlined by the fading sunlight, and for a moment, you felt a pang of something bittersweet. It was hard to stay guarded when he looked at you like that—like he still cared, like he still wanted to be the person you could lean on.

The mood shifted slightly as you leaned against the wooden railing, the soft breeze brushing past you. Glen turned to glance at you, catching the way your gaze lingered on the horizon, a faint wistfulness in your expression.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “I’ve never actually been out here with someone before.”

Glen frowned. “That’s not true. You’ve been out here with me.”

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a playful look. “Not like that, Glen. I mean… as a date. Back in the day, I was kind of the awkward kid. Nobody wanted to date me, let alone bring me out here.”

His frown deepened, and he turned to face you fully, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “It’s true. Not everyone gets their rom-com moment, Glen. Not everyone gets swept off their feet or… gets to star in the big romantic scenes.”

At that, he laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Rom-com moment? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gave him a knowing look. “You know what I mean. The big moment in every chick flick where the guy finally realizes he’s in love with the girl, and he makes some grand gesture to win her back. Like, he shows up at her house, or her job, or stops her at the airport to profess his love. And then they kiss, and everything’s magically perfect.”

Glen leaned on the railing beside you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you’re saying you’ve never had one of those?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the “p” for emphasis. “Not everyone gets that kind of moment, Glen. Some of us just get… life.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You know, I don’t think that’s true,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What, that sometimes life is just… life?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That you’ve never had a rom-com moment. I think you have. You just haven’t recognized it yet.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “Just that you’re kind of oblivious sometimes.”

You turned to look at Glen, his words catching you off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean, I’m oblivious?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

He met your gaze, and there was something in his eyes—something intense and vulnerable that made your breath catch.

You started to say something, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Let me say this...please,” he said softly.

You closed your mouth, your heart pounding as he took a step closer.

“You mean more to me than anyone else ever has,” he began, his voice steady but low. “You always have. And I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that I’m not enough for you, that I’ll never be enough. But I’m tired, too. Tired of not telling you how I feel, tired of watching you date guys who don’t deserve you.”

You blinked, his words sinking in, and your heart felt like it might burst from the mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

“You’re the most important person in my life,” Glen continued, his voice growing firmer now. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll keep showing you that. Every single day.”

The world seemed to go quiet around you, the only sound your heartbeat roaring in your ears. You stared at him, his words echoing in your head. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

Then, with a slight smile tugging at your lips, you whispered, “Kiss me.”

Glen’s lips twitched into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah.”

He leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips pressed softly against yours. It was tentative at first, almost as if he were afraid to push too far, but when you leaned into him, his other hand settled lightly on your waist, deepening the kiss.

It was everything you hadn’t realized you were waiting for—warm, electric, and grounding all at once. When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless, his forehead resting against yours as his hands lingered on your waist.

“Was that rom-com enough for you?” Glen teased softly, his grin full of warmth.

You laughed, your hands resting on his chest. “I’d say it’s a good start.”

Glen's grin widened at your response, and before you could say another word, he leaned in and kissed you again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more certain, and filled with an unspoken promise that sent your heart racing. When he pulled back, his hands still resting gently on your waist, he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

But you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“You do know we're not dating now, right?” You said firmly, though your voice softened as you met his gaze. “If you want this to go anywhere, you’re going to have to prove you’re serious. No more excuses, no more letting me down.”

Glen nodded, his expression earnest. “I know. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“And,” you added, raising an eyebrow, “you’re going to start by taking me on an actual date. None of this ‘showing up with flowers and hoping for the best’ stuff.”

A smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. “I already know where I’m taking you.”

“Oh, do you?” you asked, crossing your arms and giving him a skeptical look.

“Yeah,” he said confidently, his eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and warmth. “But I’m not telling you. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. Just don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his tone soft but sure.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the night air cool around you, the stars scattered across the sky. It wasn’t a perfect ending, but it felt like a beginning—one filled with hope, potential, and the possibility of something real.

“Come on,” Glen said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You took his hand, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for sure: this time, things were going to be different.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Trust Nelly's instincts

Aw hey, time for the infamous second pharmacy run

What -- Maggie said that the area where the drugstore is has been empty. Thank God, an uneventful trip sounds great! And nothing has gone wrong with keeping the secret about the barn, so, things are looking pretty good right now. And it's so weird that you thought it looked like Carl had a gun tucked into the waistband of his cargos, right? As if.

Who -- The series is slow-burning, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. In this chapter, you're joined by Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Lori, Carl, big brother Shane, Rick, Dale, a cameo by Jimmy, and most importantly: Nelly! (<- she's the horse)

When -- Chronologically after "A near-perfect Sunday," Meaning we're back where we left off in Season 2. This chapter takes place in S02 episode Secrets, and as with all chapters that take place directly in an episode, there is word-for-word show dialogue.

Special note -- The last chapter published was a time skip all the way to Daryl Spinoff Season 1, for those who want a little bit of non-linear fun featuring angst and fluffy yearning

Perspective -- 2nd person

Pronouns - none

TWs - mild language, bad screenshots, some intense scenes.

Masterlist to the rest of the Slowpoke Series :D

Trust Nelly's instincts

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

Morning

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

“I feel so special!” you sing. Nervous Nelly is letting you ride her again!

Mr. Greene gave you permission to ride her at your request. In fact, you can’t help but squeal, “Thank you, Mr. Greene!” one last time. You hadn't expected your squeal to travel quite so far, but you see his tiny, far off form turn ever so slightly and raises his hand in acknowledgment. Ha.

Thrice so far you’ve practiced riding on horseback for the pharmacy trip. You’ll be leaving with Maggie and Glenn closer to noon, and the trip might should last an hour and a half to two hours? Maybe less, you don’t know. After target practice, T-Dog is doing an extended search for Sophia today with Carol and Rick, so he’s not coming anymore.

The list is all ready to go. You’re going to look for one of the bio-identical types of progestogen that Lori was prescribed before. She’d miscarried a bunch of times, and finally (finally) her doc had her try it out because Lori had done the research and brought it up. The first trial ended in another loss, as was expected. Except she didn’t get pregnant again that she knew of until now.

As for the Rh shot, you have no idea if it would even work anymore. You don’t know how it’s supposed to be stored or what the shelf life is. But there's a high chance she’ll need it if both baby and her are going to survive.

Ooh, maybe the pharmacy has a manual you can utilize! Like, you have a Merck Manual but it only goes so far.

Either way, your prayer is that Lori and new baby make it to the finish line together. Another loss, now, may be too much for her to handle.

“You’re the sweetest horse, yes you are, sugar,” you coo. “Such a pretty, sweet horse, Nelly, such a sweet, sensitive girl.” *muah!* “I love you, Nelly-belly!”

The snickering you hear is…ah, Jimmy’s.

Side-eyeing him, you make your accent fancy like Blanche Devereaux’s and pretend to glower. “Hmph! It appears young James is jealous of our bond, Miss Eleanor. Pay the boy no mind.” If only your attempt to turn her around like a pro didn’t result in her doing a 360. Twice. In opposing directions when you tried to correct her, oof, that’s embarrassing.

“I thought you’d ridden before.”

“I did for fun when I visited friends at a rez in Oklahoma. We’d hang at the ranch nearby.” You were so painfully homesick the first (and second and third and fourth) time(s) that it’s shocking you chose to go back in one or two-week increments during so many summers. How Zee and Suri survived those entire summers visiting their mom’s side of the family out of state, mostly away from their parents, you may never know. “I learned how to ride a motorcycle there, too.”

“Cool, you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yes indeed!”

He must be so proud of his follow-up: “Do you ride ’em better than you ride horses?”

“Difficult to say when clearly I am a great expert on the saddle, farm boy,” you goof off.

Jimmy just chuckles and brings the brush and hoof pick back to the stables.

You try your hand at having the horse canter (is that the word for horse jogging? Or is that trotting?). It goes okay. You just need to remember to use the reins to slow her down, not your feet, which make the opposite happen.

After 10 or so more minutes of practice during which you go back and forth pretending you’re in the Lord of the Rings or in the Old West, you hop down and hitch her to the fence post so you can pee before you go back to the campsite.

It’s your turn to wash the dishes from breakfast.

What a comfort that this trip is more than likely going to be entirely uneventful. Maggie went with Otis lots of times into town, and then her and Glenn’s trip was fine, too. According to her, the place is now empty. She hasn’t even seen any dead ones for weeks.

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

Mid-morning

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

“Glenn,” you murmur when he walks by with the latest bushel of bribery-peaches. He’s staring at the barn a little too obviously again. His skin looks clammy, too. “Did you have another nightmare about it?”

“A really bad one, right before I woke up. I keep—” he shivers. “Every time I look in that direction, it’s like déjà vu.”

“That sucks.” What else to say…“Only a few more days and we can revisit how to tell people. I really think I that time Mr. Greene will see reason. I got a feeling about it.”

“And I’ve got a feeling that they’re gonna bust down the doors and eat us.”

“They wouldn’t bother, you’re too skinny. You should eat more of them peaches,” you joke. “And enough carryin’ food like you’re still the delivery guy.”

“It helps me feel in control,” he admits. “I swear, I almost blurted it out to your brother when I was walking around with the basket just now.”

A shiver runs through you. “Well, thank you for not. Want my mp3 player?”

“No. I want to be able to hear when they break the chains around the door.”

You’re momentarily distracted when Carl walks by with a thick stick in his hands. Does he have a g…no, of course not.

It’s dumb, you thought he looked like he was packing. It was just the way his shirt was puffing out and folding because of the sheath of his knife, duh. Must be on your mind because he’s been asking and hinting more and more about learning.

Just the other day, he asked when you were helping Beth with safety switch drills if you’d teach him, too. You showed him that aspect, but repeated that he’d need express permission from both parents to learn to shoot, and suggested that he go to Uncle Shane to help him ask. Shane’s the best instructor, simply put, more than Rick and T-Dog and definitely more than you.

After standing by the adults (and Jimmy, who's taken on more and more of a role in looking for Sophia) planning the day’s search areas, your nephew takes the shady spot under the awning and leans against the side of the RV. He appears to be carving a point at the end of his stick.

Aw, it’s like the way Daryl sharpens the points of his bolts sometimes. Cute. Cuter still how he’s loving wearing Rick’s deputy hat that he gifted him. Such a little man.

It looks like Beth and Patricia asked to come to target practice again today, good. Jimmy keeps trying to shoot with the gun cocked sideways, it’s pretty funny. His mom will get a laugh out of it, hopefully.

When Shane saunters over and waves you to join, he claps his arm around your shoulders from the side with a “G’morning. Say, I, uh,” he then murmurs in your ear. “I think I need your help for this. You noticed the tracking on him, too, I assume? I saw you do that double-take and I reckon you’re right.”

You trust him entirely but want him to be wrong. Carl would have had to take a gun without permission to be carrying, an idea you don’t like one bit. “It ain’t just the way his shirt’s falling?” you quietly wish.

“I been telling you: trust your instincts. You’re not an idiot.” He briefly touches his forehead to yours, takes another bite from his half-eaten peach and tilts his head toward Carl before leading the way.

“Dude. Nice lid, man,” he tells him regarding the deputy hat, then walks around to the opposite side of the RV with the two of you. “What’s goin’ on?”

Upon getting a closer look, yes indeed, Carl is carrying.

It was well done, tucking it on the same side as the sheath. Makes it easier to miss.

“Were you trying your hand at making a bolt from scratch for Mr. Dixon or just killin’ time?” you comment about his whittling. He wouldn’t have taken a gun just for ha-has, he’s a wholeheartedly good kid. You can’t quite wrap your head around it.

“I was just killing time.”

“Well, it looked cool, punk,” you tell him softly, smiling through the disappointment. Sighing, you crouch and wait for Shane to do the rest.

Carl looks at you, then at his uncle. “I wanna learn to shoot, too. Can you teach me?”

Your brother chuckles as he sits against the RV’s front grille. “Well, man, that’s, that’s up to your parents.”

“That’s what Y/N said.”

Shane nods at you. “Y/N’s right.”

“Can you talk to them? They’ll listen to you.”

Chewing another mouthful of peach, Shane takes his time but is completely serious when he agrees, “We’ll see.”

Let down, Carl nods politely and makes as if to walk away.

You hold out your hand to slow him. “Hey. A moment, little man.”

Shane gently but firmly orders, “Let us see what you got there.”

Slowly, Carl lifts the front right side of his button-down.

“Carl Lincoln Grimes,” you cannot help gasp upon seeing exactly which gun he has tucked into his belt. “That is your mama’s.”

Your brother is staring, visibly pissed. You just know he’s imagining taking a whistling teakettle off the stovetop to help keep his cool.

It wasn’t just a pistol from the bag in the RV, which would make more sense. No, that gun is Lori’s. Meaning Carl stole it.

Shane looks to his left where no one is standing, hurls underhand what’s left of his peach in that direction, and stands. “Thank you,” he grunts, then strides away to get Rick and Lori.

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

Mystery number of uncomfortable minutes later

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

Lori gave Carl a chiding so effective it only needed her to state her disappointment that he’d went behind their backs. She’s so upset. So upset. You’re settled at the picnic table where Carl is awaiting his sentencing.

Briefly, you catch Lori laying her hand on her stomach, her forehead knotted in worry. Hopefully she’ll tell Rick about the pregnancy soon. Guarding this secret will only lead to more hurt the longer it stays a secret. She stands from where she’s been kneeling by you in front of her son, tucks her gun into the back pocket of her jeans, and joins the other adults. Other than Rick and yourself, Shane of course stayed, but Dale is also here.

“Bet you four quarters someone brings up how I started learning gun stuff when I was eight,” you whisper to your nephew, trying to lighten his mood.

Carl doesn’t make a yes or a no, he just sort of looks up at you, then back down at his shoes.

It sounds like Lori’s questioning herself more than anyone. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Well, it’s my fault. I let him into the RV,” Dale explains. (Except, that doesn’t make him at fault.) Here’s the kicker that he reveals, however: “He said that he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.”

Your mouth drops. Stealing the gun was out of character enough, but he also lied? That is not like him. At all.

Seeing your appall, Carl bows his head even more.

Poor Lori by taken by such surprise that her childhood accent begins to slip out. “So on top of everything else, he lied?” she chastises, then begins discussing something with Rick, the words too soft to make out.

Whatever they are, your brother must hear. “He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked both me and Y/N to teach him,” he says. “Now, it’s none of my business, but I’m happy to do it. It’s your call.”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” Lori is quick to answer, but her face falls into incredulity when she looks at her husband. “Oh, don’t make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?”

“I know. I have my concerns, too, but—”

“—There’s no ‘but,’ he was just shot!”

Hearing her say this brings to the surface every painful detail of that awful, awful day.

Immediately and unexpectedly, you release a sob. You have to quickly stand and take a few steps away, holding your breath, trying to compose yourself and not make a scene. Shane’s familiar footfall sounds behind you, and you feel him peck a kiss on your head.

The next part of the discussion that draws your attention is your name after Rick mentions something about safe gun handling.

“Y/N, you were doing safety drills with Beth and him just the other day, is that right?”

“Ricky, leave me alone,” you huff. Carl gets up and wraps his arms around you. You hug him back and wonder how scared or responsible for others’ safety he must feel that he’d steal his mother’s firearm.

Lori is resolute. “I don’t want my kid walking around with a gun.”

“But how can you defend that?” Rick counters. “You can’t let him go around without protection.”

“He’s as safe as he’ll ever be right here,” she pleads. She did not need this today, any of this. “Look, everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong,” is the last thing you hear. You become consumed with second thoughts, worries, guilt over the barn. If any of them found out now…

“Do you think I can say something?” Carl whispers, still with an arm around you. “I wanna speak for myself.”

You nod and pat him on the back. “Start with somethin’ to comfort your mother.”

Rick is in the middle of telling Lori, “He’s growing up, thank God. We’ve got to start treating him more like an adult.”

“Then he needs to act like one!” The reprimand stings and you’re not even the recipient. “He’s not mature enough to handle a gun.”

Carl must’ve seen a chance, because he chooses now to speak up. “I’m not gonna play with it, Mom. It’s not a toy.” He walks toward the ring of adults as calm as could be. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. But I wanna look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can’t do that without a gun.”

If you loved that kid any more, you’d explode. Just look at Lori's face, it's plain as day she's thinking the same.

“Shane’s the best instructor I know.” What a compliment from Rick. “I’ve seen him teach kids younger than Carl. Y/N was only eight.”

“I told ya someone would dredge that up,” you say under your breath. Shane raises an eyebrow at you, not being so bold as to smirk.

Carl turns and grins, however. “Guess I owe you a dollar.”

Lori appears to relent, coming to an agreement with Rick. She looks at her son and cups his chin the way she’s done for as long as you can remember.

“You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you are not livin’ up to our expectations—”

“—He won’t let you down,” his father promises.

Lori kisses her boy on his head, kisses Rick’s cheek. She then looks at her stomach, looks at you, but averts her eyes so quickly away from yours that it gives you a pause. Something about it hits as eerily familiar, like the night at the CDC.

Red flag.

Not three minutes later when you’re finally finishing your turn on dish duty, she picks up the empty rinse pail. “Are you and Glenn still going to the pharmacy today?”

“Yes. We’re takin’ the horses. Teddy isn’t coming anymore but it will be us two and Maggie.”

“Good. I, um,” she trails off. Again, she won’t quite look at you.

What’s wrong? Did you offend her earlier? “Lore, what’s up?”

“Oh, I’m, I’m just preoccupied. It’ll be interesting to see what target practice is like,” she brushes it off.

“Everything okay with,” and you flit your gaze to her belly.

“Well, there's so bleeding or pain," she answers in a very soft voice. "And I still can’t stand the smell of meat or eggs, so..."

The best you can come up with is about as helpful as a screen door on a submarine: “Thank God we have all these peaches.”

“I cannot tell you how many I’ve eaten,” she begins to chat, seeming grateful for an excuse to change the subject. If only her smile was reaching her eyes. “Half of my body weight is probably peaches at this point.”

“Same,” you snort.

The conversation ends.

You’re left with the disquieting notion that there’s a big red flag you’ve missed.

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

Noon

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

Mr. Greene calls your name when you have just dismounted Nelly so you can lead her to the mailbox where you’re meeting Maggie and Glenn. Maggie’s going to adjust the straps on all three saddles before you three set out. You turn to Mr. Greene, happy as a clam that you’ve gotten the hang of riding Nelly and that Carl is safe with both mom and dad at target practice. After this morning’s drama, the rest of the day will seem a breeze!

You look at him.

Hershel’s gaze is too intent and direct.

Your stomach twists.

It’s so direct that a strange sense of dread and defeat presses down on you before he’s said a word.

“I am aware that you and he know.”

This stops you dead in your tracks.

No.

No, he can’t know.

The way he’s peering at you suggests that he can see straight into your mind. “To clarify, I am aware that you and your friend know about whom we are safeguarding in the barn.”

Your breathing turns shallow and quick. “But we ain’t told nobody!” slips out before you can speak with proper grammar and less twang. “W-We haven’t told anybody, sir,” isn’t much of an improvement.

If the old man had pulled a gun on you, you’d be less terrified than you are now.

He’s going to kick you all out and it’s all your fault. It’s your fault, you should’ve — if you’d — how stupid could you have been to — oh, fuck!

Lori’s voice, her words that helped get you through the panic come back to you, “Try this with me, honey.” Slowly in through the nose, out through the mouth. Yet, with this panic comes a curious style of anger that you’re almost tempted to call righteous.

“Sir, we respected your daughter’s wishes and told no one. We, we went ag-ag-g-” you pause, slow down, regain control over your speech. “Against what we’ve learned. We kept quiet, and that’s, that’s with an injured man and a child among us. Sir, we are riskin’ their safety,” you very nearly lose your cool when saying.

Breathe. Take the kettle off the burner.

“If you’re of m-mind to kick us off your land for simply,” you swallow, “knowing what’s in there, I am beggin’ you, please, reconsider. Please.” You are unable to look him in the eyes for more than a second.

Unreadable. He’s unreadable.

Why isn’t he responding, at least, so you can know what the verdict is? Swing the gavel, already!

Not knowing what to do, you keep blabbing against the disquieting notion within you that you may be digging a deeper hole. “You ain’t the — I mean, you are not — the sort of man to punish the whole for an honest mistake of the few. You, you, y-you are the sort of man who,” you take a deep breath with palms open in supplication, “Rick and I was two blood-soaked strangers. Carl was a, was a child with a shotgun wound.” How weak your voice sounds, as if already beaten. “You let us in through your doors and saved his life. That’s the kind of person you are. Mr. Greene?”

He finally answers. “So, you are aware of my reservations regarding your group.”

“We all are.”

“Again, I am inclined to appreciate your plainspokenness.”

A weak giggle.“I would say it’s more I can’t shut my mouth at times.”

Did he just find that amusing? “And yet, you have not spoken of what you know about the sick men and women.”

‘Sick men and women.’ Would it be a lapse of you to not address how wrong he is? If he’s already set to kick everyone out, maybe this is the last chance you have to change his mind.

It must’ve been written on your face because he calls it out. “And you appear to disagree with my referring to them as such.”

“Folk have to die to turn. Their souls have moved on.”

“There should be no indication of memory, in that case. I have witnessed it.”

You stand straighter. “The virus hijacks the deceased’s nervous system,” you say without a hint of a stutter. Maybe this will save you all, your speaking up at this very moment. Shane told you to trust your instincts, and they’re screaming at you to speak up.

“That is your opinion, then?” he asks, but not dismissively. He sounds genuinely curious.

“It is not my opinion, it’s a fact we learned right from the scientist at the CDC,” you risk stating. You're breathing too fast now. It’s making your fingers numb like they did before the panic attack, and your cheeks are so heated you’re beginning to sweat. “My opinion is that letting them walk is akin to desecration of a corpse, a-and I believe those people deserve a burial.”

Okay, it’s done, you’ve said your piece.

And regret it immediately.

Oh, Y/N, you stupid, stupid idiot.

You are not courageous enough to meet his eyes yet because you can tangibly feel his stare.

“Then I must ask you…” Oh, no, you stupid, stupid idiot, Y/N. “…How you could allow such a thing to continue, if you indeed feel so strongly?”

Nelly appears to become agitated.

Your bottom lip begins to wobble. “Sir, w-we need someplace safe.” This conversation is not only defeating, it’s humiliating. “We are completely at your mercy, Mr. Greene, you know this.”

“So at my mercy that you’d allow ‘corpses’ to be ‘desecrated.’”

That word must have really struck a nerve. You stupid, stupid, idiot.

“Th-they’re contained,” you attempt. If he leaves before you can smooth things, it’s on you if your people are kicked out. On. You. And when someone is killed because the lot of you got kicked out, it will be entirely on you, their blood on your hands. The hand you used to stanch the flow from Amy’s neck begins to feel covered in it once more. “They can’t hurt nobody in there, so that’s, um—y-you’re givin’ them dignity and reverence in that way. That’s not immoral.”

The description, you hope will offset the clear sting that the word ‘desecration’ had on him.

It wasn’t all a lie on your part, either. He is clearly trying to give those walkers dignity. He just doesn’t understand that they’re dead and not coming back.

“Y/N, thank you for your candor but please do not feel the need to hold my hand. There are far more troubling outlooks than yours,” he calmly intones. “I surmise that you are not aware that the older gentleman in your group now knows.”

Excuse you? “You mean Mr. Horvath knows?” You stare at your clean, non-bloodied hand to prove that it's not soaked.

“He described having taken a walk near the barn, hearing the sick inside. He was the picture of respect. However…”

You’re starting to feel unstable on your feet. What’s the catch?

“When I discussed this with my family, Maggie was inclined to believe that your friend had told him. This, of course, led to my being made known that the two of you had also made the discovery.”

You lift your eyes through the fear to meet his, one hand on the fence post for stability. “Sir,” you whisper. “Are we to leave right quick?”

“No.”

“When should we be ready, sir,” you don’t even bother to make sound like a question. You wipe your hand on your shirt but the feeling of it being sticky with blood remains. “I-I only wish to be prepared.” You stupid, stupid idiot.

“I’ve not made any decision yet on the matter.” He hasn’t made — what? “Young Carl requires more time to recuperate and there’s the sad fact of the young girl being not yet found.”

You grip the fencepost. The group isn’t kicked out?

Mr. Greene continues, unaware that your relief is so intense that you just might float away. “Daryl is not quite on his feet yet, either, and seeing as he is one of the stronger members of your group, it wouldn’t be charitable to �� are you well?”

You’re leaned against the post with your eyes closed because you started to see sparkles. Mr. Greene repeats his question.

“Mmhm,” you breathe. “Sir, are you sure you’re not drivin’ us off now?”

There are a few moments where he doesn’t respond. When he does, it’s in a low, soft tone. “You were under the impression I sought you out in anger, to order your group off my land?”

You aren’t thinking straight. Admitting, “If you’d held a gun to my head, I’d have been less scared out my wits,” is completely unintentional.

“Y/N, I,” you hear him sigh. “I am sorry that the prospect is so thoroughly frightening. To answer you clearly: no. I have not made any hard decisions as of yet. For the time being, your people are still recovering and getting settled.”

Rather than the sheer gratitude you intend to convey, you manage one, breathless, solitary: “O-Okay.”

“Oh, child…” He takes something out of his shirt pocket and offers it to you. A handkerchief.

You accept it and use it to blot your eyes dry and wipe your nose.

“It was not my intention to cause so much anxiety. I merely wished to convey my thanks, and to gain assurance that you would continue to maintain discretion. Please accept my thanks,” he softly drawls, careful in his wording. “For the respect and understanding that you and your friend are showing to the sick individuals under my care.”

‘The sick individuals.’ If only they were. He is so convinced that they’re merely sick, that you feel pain for him.

“They are of no threat to your people,” he then assures you. “They are well-contained. My own family would be in danger if they were not, so please, take solace that they are secure. The only way they would open is if someone took the effort and time to do so.”

“Okay.” If there’s an elegant way to save the conversation, it’s lost on you.

You do finally look him in the eye for longer than glance. He’s squinting in a way similar to how Rick does. Particularly, he appears concerned.

“Are you feeling well enough to accompany Margaret and the boy to the drugstore?”

You sniff and shuffle your feet. “Yes, sir.”

“You two are experienced in such outings, I’ve gathered.”

“Glenn and I have gone on many. We’re a good team.”

“I think they’re waiting for you by the gate,” he says with a nod toward their direction. “God protect you. And — Y/N? When you’re out there, trust Nelly’s instincts.”

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

35 minutes later

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

La-ti-da, the rest of the day will be a breeze compared to this morning’s drama, well, what a clueless little dewdrop you were.

The talk with Hershel notwithstanding, Glenn decided to be the biggest, most embarrassing nerd in the entire world and make the trip the worst, most awkward trip in the world!

Okay, might could be you’re exaggerating.

But he did say to Maggie seemingly out of the blue, “You didn’t have to come. You could hate me from a distance,” to only follow it up with “Please say something.” Like, was the man serious?

Maggie, so far, hasn’t uttered a peep in reply.

You as well are leaning toward saying silent. All you’d said was your short piece when the three of you first set off, explaining what Mr. Greene was talking to you about and that you were taking the rear, thank-you-very-much. The stress and panic from earlier mutated into getting m-a-d.

Although, there was also the brief incident where you, maybe due to being overtired or still out-of-it from speaking with Hershel, started absently giggling over the line from Friends, ‘They don’t know that we know that they know!”

Maggie smiled vaguely when you explained.

From your spot in back it’s really not so uncomfortable and awkward a trip. Every so often, you look behind you and to either side. So far, it’s been all-clear every time. It’s a treat, really.

More houses, spaced far apart, begin to come into view. Soon there are street signs and overgrown sidewalks.

So far, things have been very uncomfortable but entirely undramatic and uneventf—

“Whoa, Nelly belly, you okay?”

Her ears have gone back and she’s resisting going further.

“What’s up? Is there something scary, sugar?” you softly worry aloud. “Margaret, Glenn?” you call.

Maggie looks back to see the horse reacting to whatever is spooking her. Her eyes narrow and she looks all around.

“I know she’s ‘nervous’ but,” you lose your train of thought. “I’ll get off and lead her, Maggie?” you then ask more than decide, but dismount all the same. Don’t want to get reared off like Daryl.

Glenn sits up straight, alert and scanning the area. “Do you think she sees one?”

“I ain’t too sure.” Mr. Greene’s warning to ‘Trust Nelly’s instincts,’ pops into your head. “Maybe she smells one.” Like you'd been taught, you reach up to stroke her t-spot and help soothe her. She mainly pulls her head away from the attempt.

“Try a treat, too,” Maggie suggests. “Eating comforts them into feeling safer.”

You take the butter knife and one of the peaches (don’t worry about running out, you packed 7 peaches) from your bookbag and slice it in half to remove the pit. “I’ll lead her on foot,” you decide.

Maggie seems wary. “We’re almost there.”

She and Glenn go on. Nelly permits you to lead her, so you feel better.

Her instincts are saying it’s okay to go now.

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

5 minutes later

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

Maggie had described it as empty. Empty it sure is. It’s nice to see a commercial area that doesn’t have much broken glass or trash.

It does get to you sometimes; when you and Shane went to scrounge for what you could back when the lootings had died down, neither of you smashed things. Why did people smash things? Break stuff, trash stuff, steal stuff? The riots were such bullsh — you’re being uncharitable again. Right and wrong aside, people were panicked and going mad. Not that it’s a good reason, but still, few are immune to mass hysteria. When people are scared or angry, it’s contagious and folk aren’t in their right minds.

Besides, walkers were responsible for some of the smashed glass, namely full-length windows. They ran fast in the onset and getting cut on glass doesn’t bother them.

Anyway, yeah, this area didn’t have much of that, it seems. Granted, you’re at the edge of the ‘downtown,’ but the street looks great, to be honest. A lot of windows in the small buildings are intact.

In a sudden rush of excitement, you call, “Sophia! It’s Y/N and Glenn! Are you here, baby?”

No answer.

“Sophia!”

No answer.

You shake your head and walk faster, Nelly matching your pace.

Looks like the drugstore is ahead to the left. The inside appears pretty bare-bones from what you can tell from the outside.

Now is when Glenn attempts to talk more. “Maggie, I—”

“—I asked for your trust and you betrayed it. Now my dad’s pissed at me.” Maggie immediately claps back. “Your turn.”

“So your dad thinks they’re sick?”

“You know they all do,” you murmur to yourself. God, help them see, you pray simply.

“You agree with that, even after what you saw at the well?” he puts to her, and good on him. She and her dad could use some cold, hard truth. If only her father had seen the walker at the well.

“I’m not sure what I saw at the well,” Maggie answers uncomfortably. She dismounts and moves to hitch her horse to one of the beams in front of the pharmacy.

Glenn looks at you for support before challenging her, “Yes, you are.”

“Maggie, we saw it together,” you agree softly. “Split in half, still biting.”

“And there’s no way a person, sick or not, could survive that!” Glenn exclaims. “Look, if you saw Atlanta, you would not have a barn full of walkers!”

“I wish you would stop callin’ them that!” Maggie yells.

Glenn softens. “What do you call them?”

“Mom. Shawn,” she goes on, tying her horse’s lead with such ease that she hardly needs to look. “Mr. and Mrs. Fischer. Lacey. Duncan.”

It hadn’t really made sense to you until now that, for the Greenes, they are (were?) operating with a confidence that a cure was possible, that their loved ones were only sick. To learn after all these months, after hoping and putting in all that work to keep them ‘safe’, to learn that they have been dead and cannot come back is somehow less bearable to imagine going through.

“I’ll hitch the horses. I’m still worried about Nelly, so I’m gonna stay out here awhile,” you mumble to Glenn, then pull out the updated list you’d made and hand it to him. “I made three more copies. It’s got some updates from the last one.”

“I’ll help you with the reins,” Maggie answers for him, and takes over tying the horse’s lead for him.

Glenn stares at the ground, says “I have my own list,” and goes inside by himself.

That doesn’t irritate at all…

Maggie doesn’t speak until all three horses are securely tied to the poles. “Maybe it should’ve been just you and me today.”

“Glenn’s smart and fast. It’s smart to have here.”

“So smart he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

You have to admit, you groaned in solidarity at her comment. “He’s saved lives before, for what it’s worth,” you do need to point out.

She looks at you, then stares into space. “I’m so angry at him.”

It’s worth mentioning…“Maybe that’s a little how we feel about the barn, too.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Are you on his side, now?” she accuses.

“Come now, that ain’t fair.”

Nelly pulls back, agitated again.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” you shush to the horse. “Margaret, I’m gonna take a turn around the street.”

Maggie cautiously steps around the building, looking to either side while you do the same in the opposite direction.

“It’s clear over here,” she confirms. “Y/N, I’m gonna go inside, finish getting what we need faster.” Was that a scoff? “Lori sure knows how to ask for things. She should go fetch it all herself next time.”

Nope. You get that Maggie’s pissed, but you’re not even entertaining that bullshit attitude about Lori, especially not today. Where’d that even come from? The woman has literally done nothing to her. “Not everything on the list is needed," you offer, "but she makes them thorough because it’s with everyone’s input and needs in mind. Don’t go trashin’ her.”

At this, Margaret storms into the drugstore, leaving you outside, alone.

Good riddance, you were fixing to get huffy. Why can’t people get along and be zen for five minutes, good Moses…

You step quietly and quickly around the street, peeking through the short alleys (if they can even be called that), and making a loop around the pharmacy itself. You swear you hear rattling near the back right corner of the drug store, but Nelly’s loud whinnying mixes with your trying to pinpoint whereabouts it came from.

You call Sophia’s name again, just in case.

However, a raccoon bolting away from the general direction of the sound makes an end of both your worry and your hope. The subsequent thought you get to shoot it for food makes you sigh at the state of things. Moreso the thought that you highly prefer squirrel. But like, squirrel is hecking delicious, so oh my gosh, listen to you.

Having found no reason for Nelly’s unrest, you chalk it up to her being sensitive to the emotions of the humans with her, simple as. Her name is genuinely ‘Nervous Nelly.’

She’s still tugging at her lead, but has quieted enough.

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts’ plays through your mind again. If Mr. Greene thought it important enough to suggest it, it must be. You don’t like that she’s still uneasy.

“Nell, I’m gonna head in so we can get everythin’ and split, okay? Not much longer, won’t be ten minutes.”

You push the doors open and walk into the pharmacy. Glenn’s to the left. “Hey, man. What did you cross off the list so far?” you ask.

“I’ve been distracted. Sorry.”

“Where’s the one you made?” you question with just a hint of an attitude.

“Maggie has it. I wasn’t sure where to find…something on it.”

“Oh, what was it? I’ll go help.”

“I-I, it, she, th—nothing,” he stumbles through before pretending this could work: “I don’t know.”

You lick your teeth. What is with him today? “I’m glad you’re learnin’ to keep secrets,” you let slip in your frustration.

“Great. Now you’ve crawled up my butt, too.” He swipes a lotion off the shelf without looking and goes toward the doors, away from you.

Licking your teeth but holding your tongue, you figure you’ll start at the back of the small store and work your way forward. The prescription drugs are in the back where Maggie already is.

Ooh. The shelves back there look like there’s still a decent amount of stock on them.

“Need any help?” you extend the olive branch.

It’s not subtle the way she turns her head right, glares at Glenn, then answers, “Not for this.”

Whatever the hell that means. Seriously, can people just be zen for five minutes?

You throw your hands in the air. “Fine!” Glancing around the pharmacy section and not really clocking anything because you’re too caught up, you mutter, “There’s gotta be a manual somewhere,” and head left where it looks like there are a few smaller rooms.

There’s a strange scent in here that smells suspiciously like the dead. Must be a rodent that died in the walls?

The door to the first small room looks like it had to be crow-barred open by someone at some point. You step inside to look at the desk.

But the loud whinny from outside stops you.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

But she’s been acting up for seemingly no reason.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

The hair on your arms stand. You turn around, walk back to the middle, and turn your focus to the windows where you can see the horses are still hitched. “Maggie, this is normal for her?” you quietly question.

It’s only Nelly who’s rearing and trying to escape. The other horses seem disquieted, but only Nelly is panicked.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

It’s the clatter of pill bottles falling to the floor that has you forgetting all about the fighting, the disagreements, the worries, and the stress.

Because the sounds of snarling only mere yards away is unmistakable even before Maggie begins to scream.

There’s a walker, reaching through the shelves that has a death grip on her wrist.

You throw yourself hard against the back-to-back storage shelving to keep it from falling on your friend and to push the dead man away from her even slightly.

“Glenn! The shelves, I can’t!” you yelp into the chaos, groaning from the strain of keeping the shelving from toppling over. “It’s got her wrist!”

But in an instant, the shelves abruptly stabilize; you lose balance and tumble hard to the ground. The walker, you twist on hands and knees to see, is rounding the corner and already — no, Margaret! It’s got its hands on her again, it’s gonna —

The few seconds it takes for you, roaring, to whip out your screwdriver and spring up from the floor seem too long, too late. The clumsy angle between it and Maggie at which you attempt to drive your weapon into its skull doesn’t work, and it tumbles from your hand and onto the ground.

The new fastest second of your life — seeing the walker’s mouth lunge for your forearm — seems to also, somehow, drag at a snail’s pace. It’s in that strange, rapid slow-motion that you duck and throw yourself back.

You reach for your pistol in a last ditch effort. The risk of the shot spraying the walker’s contaminated blood in your or her eyes or mouth outweighs the guarantee of its bite.

It’s ultimately Glenn’s quick action with the metal board that saves you both.

From the countertop, he swings it with all his strength. Though you aren’t aware of having choossen to do so, it seems you’ve pulled Maggie down and back to get her as far from the force of the strike and the trajectory of the walker’s fall.

It collapses.

For a moment, everything turns still.

Maggie is too shocked to cry or say anything. Your arms are wrapped tightly around her even as you still tightly clutch your firearm. You can’t speak, either.

“Did it get you? Did it bite you?” Glenn cries, and you snap back to the present and begin to inspect Maggie’s arms, wrists, and hands while he squeezes her and you to him.

When the walker stands back up, its head hanging by half its neck, you have to cover Maggie’s eyes. She’s seen enough.

Glenn tries to use Daryl’s sickle machete to finish it, but ends up having to try over and over in a fury when it keeps gargling and snarling despite the blows. It’s gruesome.

You shout Glenn’s name and aim your gun at the walker, finishing it when Glenn sees and has moved away far enough to avoid the spray. The blast of the shot reverberates loudly in the closed space.

Finally, finally, all turns quiet and stays quiet. Safety switched on, you rely on muscle memory to tuck your weapon back into its concealed holster.

Glenn is panting. Maggie starts to waver where she stands, sobs coming out as the shock wears off.

You go to her. “It didn’t get you Margaret, look, all clean. J-just a little of its blood on your shirt,” you console, showing her her own wrists and arms that are trembling but blessedly uninjured. You recall the handkerchief in your pocket. “Here. Your daddy lent me this. Use it to wipe your eyes, don’t rub with your hands or arms until we get you cleaned up, o-okay? I-I got wipes, I got wipes and sanitizer. That should suit for now, sweetheart, okay?”

After a few more moments of catching your breath, you decide, “Y’all need something to drink and eat, I’ll, I’ll go get the backpack.” It’ll give Glenn and Maggie time to embrace in private. All is forgiven, you’re quite sure.

Picking up your screwdriver, you walk outside in a post-adrenaline daze. Typical for you, the post-adrenaline nausea is hitting, too. Some tears, as well. You note upon stepping into the fresh air that Nelly is calmer.

Much calmer.

Last you knew, she’d been trying to break free and escape. Right before the walker attacked, in fact…

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts.’

You wonder. If her whinnying hadn’t prompted you to take a few steps back toward Maggie’s direction, would you have had those precious extra seconds of time? Your slamming against the shelves when you did pushed the walker back enough to unsteady it, which bought Maggie the chance to free her wrist from its grasp. It gave Glenn more time to grab that piece off the metal shelving and leap up on the counter to strike it. If you hadn’t turned around because of the horse…

“Trust Nelly’s instincts,” Mr. Greene had instructed.

“Thank you, girl,” you whisper to the horse, with shaking hands blindly opening the bookbag. “I th-think you just saved some lives, Nell.”

Not only this, but the whole awful encounter showed Maggie firsthand that the walkers aren’t sick people. They’re dead. It’s the virus that makes their bodies move and walk and bite.

This terrifying day may just be your people’s saving grace.

Because if Maggie understands, her father will be more willing. And if her father understands, the walkers will be laid to rest. No more danger. No more disagreement.

You’ll still need to leave with Shane, but there’s a better chance that the group will be safe at the farm.

You praise “Thank you!” to the heavens, then boldly press a smooch to the spot above Nelly’s nose. She briefly allows you to rest your forehead there. “And thank you for your instincts.”

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

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

-> Masterlist link here <-

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[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloved no.1 chappell roan stan @cordiallyfuturedwight thanks my darling <33 i can only apologise for the lack of ms roan here... i swear good luck babe has been on repeat i don't know what happened

tagging the usual suspects, apologies if i've already missed yours: @aprylynn @jiminsproof @thvinyl @cosmicdreamgrl @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi <333 and you dear reader

oh and see here for more of my self-proclaimed songs of the summer if you're interested in that kind of thing

[piastrixpole]

tattoo my heart - carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x tattoo artist!reader

genre: smau

faceclaim: maggie lindemann

liked by charlesleclerc, carlossainz, landonorris and 838,213 others

f1: it’s a paddock debut here at COTA for the smooth operator’s new body art

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charlesleclerc: looking good mate😉 didn’t think you’d actually go through with it

carlossainz: a bets a bet🙂↕️

landonorris: save a horse🤤

carlossainz: aye cabrón not in public

pierluigi_della_bonna: caliente chili🌶️

user1: god he looks so good with tattoos

user2: fell to my knees in a walmart when they showed them on the broadcast

user3: he is THE Ferrari driver of all time tbh like just look at him😭 he’s like a walking ad (no hate to Charles ofc!!)

scuderiaferrari: that’s our driver🌶️

liked by yourbsf, oliviarodrigo, calumhood and 15,113 others

yntattoo: in honour of race week I’m doing a new f1 themed flash at 50% off this weekend❤️

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oliviarodrigo: gorgeous gorgeous girl💜you’re making me want a tattoo

-> yntattoo: omg please!! it would be an honour my love💜

calumhood: these are sick yn! will need to come and see you again soon

-> yntattoo: cal!! you better

user12: the Ferrari ones?? ok im obsessed😍

user17: making an appointment as we speak

user14: oh to be going to COTA so I could also get tattooed by yn sigh😭

user9: omg imagine if she was the one to tattoo carlos user55

messages

tiktok

transcript:

“carlos you surprised everyone in the paddock this weekend with your new look, what can you tell us about it.”

“well i have been thinking about getting one for a long time and a friend of mine knew a girl who was running a special on f1 tattoos for this weekend so i called over and she did an amazing job.”

“charles, will you be following in your teammates footsteps any time soon?”

“definitely not. carlos of course looks very good but I do not think I could pull it off as well as he does.”

“aye that’s not true cabron, I think a full scale on your chest would be quite eye catching…”

oliviarodrigo posted a story!

(pic 1: best day with my girls tattoyn, yourbsf) (pic 2: 🏎️)

liked by oliviarodrigo, yourbsf, scuderiaferrari and 27,390 others

yntattoo: forza ferrari sempre❤️🏎️ thank you for inviting me scuderiaferrari

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scuderiaferrari: so happy to have you with us❤️you’ll have to come back and give all the team matching tats

-> yntattoo: say less admin🤭❤️

yourbsf: hottieee😍 had the most amazing time with you

-> yntattoo: love you so much girl

oliviarodrigo: ferrari girls🏎️✨

alexandrasaintmleux: it was so lovely to meet you girls❤️

-> yntattoo: you too Alex!!

twitter

carlossainz posted a story!

Replies…

charlesleclerc: finally got the girl?😉

-> you know it mate

yourbsf: take care of my girl

-> I promise Bella

alexandrasaintmleux: that’s MY wife!!

-> stop trying to steal her from me you have Charles

liked by carlospriv, yourbsf, alexpriv, charlespriv, livpriv and 72 others

ynpriv: my man my man my man my man my man my man (ps the tramp stamp is fake…for now🫣)

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yourbsf: iconic, legendary, never been done before

->ynpriv: that’s you💋

alexpriv: my ferrari wifey❤️🥰

->ynpriv: run away with me xx

carlossainz: princesa❤️

->ynpriv: love u papi😼

charlesleclerc: can you give me the tramp stamp next win?

->ynpriv: I’ll hold you to that leclerc

messages

📍mexico

liked by carlossainz, charlesleclerc, yourbsf, oliviarodrigo and 100,346 others yntattoo: who would have though a tattoo appointment would bring me you❤️ congratulations mi amor

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yourbsf: making me believe in love again

oliviarodrigo: omg you’re the mystery girlfriend and not me whaaat!?!

->yntattoo: wait no i thought it was you??

carlossainz: gracias mi amor❤️ couldn’t have done it without you by my side

->yntattoo: ❤️

user33: yn is really living my dream life huh tattooing carlos sainz and then ending up as his girlfriend

user50: wattpad protagonist vibe

user27: I wonder if carlos is gonna get more tattoos from her??

->user92: he shouldn’t be with someone messy and skanky like her, she’s not Ferrari girlfriend material…

liked by landonorris, yntattoo, scuderiaferrari

carlossainz: my good luck charm

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landonorris: the other woman🎶

->yntattoo: hands off my man norris I will punt you into the sun

yntattoo: panties fell off at the sight of you on the top step🤤

->user3: YN??

->user12: i know ferrari pr are screaming rn

->scuderiaferrari: yn🫣👀 training being scheduled as we speak

->yntattoo: boooo!! they hated me for being right😔

[inthe-dark-tonight]

three days too long

rick grimes x fem!reader

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

word count: 1.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rick,” you sigh. “Need you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M close.” You say between breaths.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!” You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dixonrising]

We're Together

pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

summary: After someone else try's to get with you Daryl makes it known your his.

"Im goin' on a run with Glenn" Daryl said as he entered your cell, "Be back before dark."

You nodded turning to him," Be safe," you smiled at the man before you. You stepped closer placing a kiss to his cheek before he turned to leave.

You and Daryl never defined what you were but, there is a mutual understanding that you were more than friends.

-

"Hey, Ronnie!" You said as you took the seat next to him.

"I’m glad you're on watch," He smiled. Your face looked questioning as you spoke again, "Why is that?"

"I have been meaning to ask you something," He spoke nervously as he turned to face you even more.

"I noticed it's just you in your cell, I was wondering if maybe, you wanted to maybe," he paused taking your hand in his," maybe, try us? like together?" He questioned.

You nearly laughed," Ronnie, that's sweet but, I’m not interested," You spoke softly, moving your hand from his, "Daryl, is well," You paused unsure of how to continue, "I'm not sure what Daryl would call us." You laughed.

"Dixon?" He questioned,” Doesn’t seem like the type to settle down.”  

“Like I said I am not sure what we are?” You said, genuinely feeling as though you and Daryl might never become anything.

“Well you know where to find me, if that cell of yours is still empty’” He said laughing.

“You got it, Ronnie.” You smiled knowing that would never be happening any time soon.

Little did you know though Daryl had heard that whole interaction between the pair of you.

-

"How, was your shift?" Maggie asked as you entered the prison.

"Terrible," You nearly laughed," Ronnie, asked me out.” She joined in the laughter barely believing what you had said.

"Well, we're on duty together tomorrow," She smiled.

You were more than happy with that. "Alright, Mags, I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, I'm beat." You smiled at the girl before heading to your cell.

You were confused to see bags, outside of the door and a mattress being pulled into the cell. You headed to the door hearing a rather loud groan.

"Daryl?" You questioned stepping into the cell," What are you doing?"

"Nothin'" He said, lifting his mattress onto the top bunk. He moved past you bringing his bags into the room.

"So this is a thing now?" You questioned sitting on the bed.

"You don't want me in here?" He asked sitting next to you.

"I am more than fine with you being in here." You smiled, "But, why the sudden want?"

"I over heard that douche, Ronnie, hittin' on ya," He said looking down twiddling with his fingers.

You smiled, "Jealous?" You questioned.

"No." Daryl responded now looking at you.

"You crazy, you know that right?" You asked.

He smiled shaking his head.

"Just don't bring anything you catch in here," You smiled laying back on the bed," And I guess you can stay."

He laughed laying back next to you, "If you don't want me in 'ere, I can go," He laughed as you snuggled into his side. His arm moving behind your head.

“oh no, your staying,” You laughed into his chest.

-

Thank you all so much for reading!! Request are open! Please share and comment I love to hear your thoughts!!

[rosie-read-that]

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

-

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

-

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

-

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

-

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious?  “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

-

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him. 

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

-

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[naturesapphic]

heyyy i’ve got a kinktober req for billie eilish x reader! could you possibly do a fic about billie telling reader to be quiet because her family is next door or something and being super rough still though??

ps you’re writing is amazing!!

Day 1: Silence Is Key

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Kinktober masterlist

“Be quiet mamas…”. Billie demanded softly in your ear as her fingers were deep into your soaked cunt. You let out a loud whimper which caused Billie to slap her hand over your mouth. “You never listen do ya baby?” She smirked as she curls her fingers in your pussy, making you bite on her hand slightly, which didn’t faze her one bit.

As her fingers curled in your cunt, she was met with your g-spot and she kept hitting it, over and over until your legs were shaking. “You gonna cum for me princess? Hm? Gonna make a mess all over my fingers?” She teased in your ear making you whine as you squeezed her fingers. She groaned as she felt you let go completely on her fingers, your cum coating her hand and arm.

She gently pulled her fingers out, you whining at the loss of fullness that she gave you and she shushed you quickly. “Don’t make me gag you princess.” She said sternly which made you hold back a moan at her filthy threatening words. Billie licked her fingers and hand clean, moaning quietly at your taste and she picked you up, placing you on the bathroom counter.

She got down on her knees and inhaled your scent as she buries her nose in between your folds. “You smell so fucking good.” She whispers, as her eyes go up to meet yours and you let out a pathetic whimper. She collected some spit in her mouth and opened your folds with her ring covered fingers and spat on your throbbing hole. Billie smeared her spit all in your cunt and in your clit, making you bite your lip hard as you try not to moan.

Then Billie attached her lips onto your folds and she started suckling on it making you cover your mouth quickly. She ran her tongue up and down in your folds slowly, then she went up to your clit and started sucking on it, making little noises of approval. All of a sudden a knock on the bathroom door was heard which made your heart drop to your stomach. “Billie? Y/n? Are y’all okay in there?” Maggie’s voice rang through and you looked down at Billie, silently asked for her help but she just gave you a smirk as she kept licking at your pussy.

“We are okay m-Maggie! B-Billie is just h-helping me w-with something.” You said quickly before covering your mouth back up again. Then all of a sudden Billie pushes her tongue into your pussy making you bite down on your hand hard. “Okay! Just checking in on you girls. Dinner will be ready soon.” She said and you quickly responded with an okay then you heard her footsteps walk away from the door. You looked down at billie and her face was practically buried in your pussy as she tongue fucks you relentlessly.

You throw your head back as her tongue goes deeper and further in your walls, her moans vibrating your pussy and you feel your orgasm coming. “G-gonna c-cum.” You whisper out pathetically and she smirks. “Cum.” Was all she said and that’s what got you. Your cum filled her mouth and she licked you clean, not leaving anything left. Billie got up off her knees and started cleaning you up. “Such a good girl for being quiet.”

A/n: thank you so much for the request anon and for your lovely words! Happy first day of kinktober/fluffober- I’m gonna be posting smut and fluff which I know kinktober is just for smut but idc I’m doing both :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! Kinktober/fall/halloween requests are still open for all the characters/people I write!

[ssvnriseya]

KEEP A SECRET (D.D.)

summary - daryl can't seem to get enough of the farmer's daughter, you.

warnings - MDNI 18+ very dark!daryl × innocent!reader, slight obsessive behavior, slight stalker behavior, manipulation, masturbation (m!), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, baby trapping, age gap (reader is 20, daryl is mid 30's), intended lowercase.

note - OKAY, I'M SPOILING YOU ALL, THIS IS TOO MUCH SMUT?! IT TOOK ME A WEEK TO WRITE THIS, I'M SORRY! I WAS JUST SO BUSY; I COULD'VE FINISHED THIS IN TWO DAYS OR THREE IF I HADN'T BEEN BUSY. daryl's a bit of an asshole and dark at the end.

masterlist

you watched as a boy walked away from your sister, you smiled at him as he passed you.

he tried to smile back but failed immediately, the frown winning him over, he looked down the ground instead.

he walked away, shaking his head and tipping his hat off every now and then in frustration.

your face immediately converted into full worry as you glanced at your sister who seemed to be deep in thought.

you walked over to her slowly, the green grass beneath you falling as you stepped on them quite carefully.

the sky was as blue as it could get and it was a clear sunny day, and you loved it.

the trees danced with the wind softly as the birds living in them seemed to be singing along, chirping.

you smiled at maggie as you approached her. "hey." she greeted you, you beamed at her once again.

"maggie, was that glenn?" you asked in worry and wiggled your eyebrows at her, she shook her head giving you a small smile.

"just a crazy asian with a name." she responded, you nodded and continued looking for eggs at the chicken coops.

"well, i think the only thing about him crazy is about you." you replied back as you bent down to pick up an egg.

"trust me, he doesn't know what he wants, or what he is crazy about." she fought back, determined to make you know.

"i think he's old enough to know what he wants." you tried to defend the boy you hardly knew.

"you done there? how many eggs did nessie lay?" she changed the subject you looked at the chicken you and maggie, along with beth named a year before the apocalypse started.

"she's healthy... she has four babies." you said excited, you looked at maggie through your lashes and she groaned, looking away.

"no! you're not keeping one to raise as a pet!" she immediately shut your thought down even before you said them.

"just one? just one little chick?" you asked and pouted when she shook her head again.

"no." she said, her mind is settled on 'no chickens inside the house, baby or not!'

"but, it's gonna be so cute when it's hatched and grown a bit!" you exclaimed in excitement, imagining the chick running around the house.

"no..." she shook her head and said your full name making you pout, she really wasn't going to change her mind.

"i'll take care of it, feed it, and bathe it." you promised her, even holding your right hand up as a sign.

"and what will you feed it?" she raised an eyebrow at you, continuing to check the coop.

"my bread, i get two pieces every morning, i'll save one for it to eat the whole day." you planned slowly, not entirely sure.

"it's a baby." she pressed on and you nodded in agreement, you smiled at her.

"when you and glenn go on a run... w–will you get me a formula and the thing to feed it with? if you ever came across one, don't risk your life for it, okay?" you rambled to her.

"fine." she finally gave in, making you smile in delight. you beamed at her and hugged her so tight

"thank you, mags!" you kissed her cheeks and she smiled, she really loved making you happy.

"take care of it, okay? don't let it die." she reminded you sternly and you nodded.

"i see how glenn looks at you, maggie... i think he really likes you." you gave her a bright smile and handed her the basket full of eggs.

she didn't reply and checked the coops for more eggs, "no more eggs." she said.

she took the basket from you, "I'll check out the stables, you should go in." you told her sweetly.

she nodded and looked around, then she stopped her gaze before looking away after giving a nod.

you looked around but can't seem to find anyone. "was that glenn?" you asked her, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"no, take care at the stables. scream for help if anything happens." she said, care and worry evident in her voice.

"okay! i'm going to check out nervous nelly, i need to ease her nerves." you tried to joke and maggie rolled her eyes with a smile.

"careful." she warned one last time, you nodded and took a few steps back, waving at her happily.

"bye, maggie!" you shouted when she was far enough. she nodded and finally turned around and started walking to the house.

you turned around and walked to the stables slowly, humming to yourself.

you passed by a campsite rather far than the others, you stopped a bit and analyzed it.

it had squirrels hanging around a line and a tent that was beside a rock structure.

you walked forward, curiosity winning the best of you. your boots stopped outside the tent.

it was closed and you looked towards the house, which was quite far from here.

you heard grunts and moans inside suddenly making you wonder if it was one of your neighbors before the turn.

you kneeled by the soft green grass, your dress covering your knees from the rocks and dirts that may stick to your knees.

"hello?" you asked and waited for a response, then right after there was a string of curses.

then the tent opened, you stood up and took a few steps back for safety.

then a man came out, probably a lot older than you. he then scowled when he saw you.

"are you with mr. grimes?" you asked him politely and walked near him.

he didn't answer so you frowned, was he mute or deaf? you can't tell but you were sure he was very bothered with your presence.

you suddenly felt embarrassed, he was probably sleeping and you woke him up, at least you saved him from his nightmares, right?

"i'm sorry, did i wake you up?" you asked as you were the type of girl who really wants to know everything.

"doesn't matter." he grunted and you smiled, so he wasn't deaf or mute at all!

"i thought you were a walker 'cause you were groaning..." you confessed shyly.

his face turns red and looks away from you, why was he embarrassed? it isn't embarrassing to have nightmares, even you still have nightmares.

"was it nightmares? even though it isn't night anymore..." you asked him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he took a few seconds before hesitantly nodding, you spot a log near him and walked towards it, sitting.

"i have nightmares too, you don't have to be embarrassed about it. it's totally normal." you comforted him, squinting your eyes at him as you smiled.

"how'd ye end up here? isn't your daddy gon' come crazy lookin for ya?" he asked in a mocking manner.

"no, i told maggie that i'll be checking the stables for nelly, she's always nervous..." you said as you scratched your neck.

"the stables tha' way." he told you pointing at the stables, a bit of a distance from him.

"yeah, i know. i've lived here all my life." you told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"so why are ye here?" he asked, you shook your head at him.

"i was just curious who stayed here, it's so far from the others. are you being bullied? do you want me to tell dadd—" you rambled.

"nah, i jus' like my space. no nosy neighbor or anythin'." he admitted.

"okay, i'll get going, i just check up on you." you smiled at him and stood up from the log.

he grunted in response, you turned around to walk to the stables but stopped.

you turned to face him again, you caught eye contact with him.

"wait! what's your name?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in curiousity once again.

"daryl... dixon." he told you, still hesitantly, as always.

"okay! i'll come visit you tomorrow mr. dixon!" you said cheerfully.

you waved at him, a bright smile on your face. you turned around and continued your way to your original destination.

you can feel his stare burning through your back but you ignored it, was he so angry he was burning holes into you?

"daddy? who's been shot?" you asked as you went down the stairs rubbing your eyes.

your sister, beth, woke you up and said that someone has been shot, only a graze in the head and your daddy's already fixed it.

"who told you?" maggie asked as she handed you your cup of coffee, you took it with a smile and a good morning.

"beth, she woke me up." you said and maggie nodded.

"it's daryl." maggie responded to you for your father, seeing that her dad, your dad, who is also beth's dad is busy checking the medication stock.

"the one near the barn?" you asked her as you took a sip of the coffee, taking a seat on the counter as you played with the hem of your night dress.

"i guess so." maggie replied, finishing off her bread. then you remembered something.

"hey, where's my chick?" you asked her, jumping off the counter and scanning the cupboards for the eggs, ready to take one.

"what chick?" your dad butted in, having finished with checking the stocks.

"maggie told me yes, daddy." you quickly defended, still not explaining.

"told her she could keep an egg to raise, as long as she keeps it alive." maggie said.

you beamed at your daddy, plastering on your most charming and pleading eyes.

"you know i can't say no to you." your dad chuckled and shook his head.

"i know, daddy." you hugged him as he kissed the top of your head, ruffling it.

"are you coming with beth, maggie, patricia and jim for gun training?" your dad asked as you backed away from the hug.

"i don't feel like it today, daddy... not after beth interrupted my sleep." you glanced at your younger sister, teasing her.

"alright." he said with a huff, making you pout.

"is that okay with you, daddy?" you asked him for permission, he nodded once again.

"that's alright with me." he said, you smiled at him as you got back to your coffee.

"who's the ones staying behind?" you asked your older sister as you swing your legs back and forth.

"just you and daddy." she said, glancing out the window a little longer than a second.

"okay." you shrugged.

she glanced out the window again and kept on repeating it, making you worried for her.

"are you alright, do you see any walkers?" you asked her as you went near the window to take a glance.

she tried to stop you but it was already too late, you had already seen it.

"oh." you said and smiled at her, it was glenn having breakfast with the others who were living outside their house.

"you're so whipped for him, did something happen between you?" you asked her as you took a step back.

she turned red and avoided your gaze, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"did he hurt you?" you immediately asked your older sister as you were worried for her.

she shook her head, placing her empty cup on the sink.

"okay. i think i'll go check up on mr. dixon." you told her as you finished the rest of your coffee, placing it down on the counter.

she nodded and waved you off, you smiled and took a few steps back, before turning around and rushing upstairs.

you scanned the first guest room and saw that there was no one, so you closed it.

you took a few steps towards the second door and knocked on it softly.

you opened the door and found the man you were looking for, you smiled at him as he glanced at you.

"how are you feeling?" you asked as you walked towards him, gently closing the door behind you.

you sat at the side of the bed as you checked him, he looked pretty bruised.

you let the back of your hand feel his temperature, he flinched but didn't say anything else.

"as shitty as i look." he responded as he gazed up the ceiling, ignoring the aching pain in his head.

"i'm sure andrea didn't mean it, she thought you were one of them so she tried to shoot you to protect everyone else in this camp." you explained to him what you see in the situation.

he grunted, "sure she didn't." you frowned and nodded then gazed around the room.

"this is my favorite room." you told him as you analyzed him, from the bandages on his head to the dirts on his face and tattoos on his muscular chest.

"you've got two rooms?" he asked rather harshly, he can't blame himself as he's grown to always share things and the girl in front of him has two rooms.

"no, silly. i like to stay here when i'm feeling sad... i love the view by that window, you should check it before you guys find sophia and leave..." you smiled at him, the smile never faltering.

"ya want us to leave already?" he asked and you turned red, embarrassed.

"n—no! i kind of love having you guys here, it's not boring as before..." you told him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"jus' teasin' ye." he smirked at you, making you sighed out in relief.

"what's your job before all of this?" you asked him as you put the rest of your body up the bed.

you crawled over to the head of the bed and laid your back against the headboard.

"what ye doin'?" he asked as he watched your every movement, you can feel his heated gaze at your skin.

"i'm sitting..." you stated the obvious and he groaned, deciding to let it go.

"so what's your job?" you asked him as you reached out to touch his hair.

he snapped his eyes at you making you giggle and pull away from him, pretending to do something else.

"jus' everything, as long as it gives money." he stated, his voice cold making you feel guilty.

it must have been bad memories and you had the audacity to bring it up.

"sorry, i didn't know it was a sensitive topic to you." you admitted as you laid down the bed.

you still kept a fair distance between the both of you as you laid in your back.

you turned to your side, facing him as he was still facing the ceiling.

"it wasn't." he argued making you nod, not truly believing the two words coming out of his mouth.

"have you had breakfast?" you asked him as you gazed at his side profile.

"'m not hungry." he told you, you still didn't believe him. you sat up and slide down the bed, getting on your feet.

"i'll make you something to eat." you told him as you smiled, walking towards the door, opening it as you went outside and closing it.

once you went outside to make him something to eat, he immediately darted his hand at his chest, breathing heavily.

"fuck." he cursed as he can feel his jeans tightening. he tried to shift it but failed miserably.

he had to make this quick if he doesn't want you to notice when you come back, or catch him on the act.

he shifted slightly, going up the bed and sitting up, back against the headboard.

he feels guilty, he wants to stop himself as he's having forbidden thoughts about you.

he was almost caught by you yesterday when you went to his little campsite.

he was jerking off, to the thought of you. he felt an invisible string of attraction when he saw you when they first arrived.

he loved the way you smiled at each one of them even though you hardly knew them.

he loved you in your cute dresses, almost as if teasing him with the below knee length.

everything you did had a meaning to him, with you going to check up on him and laying in bed with him.

he absolutely loved the feeling of your hand on his forehead when you checked his temperature.

call him obsessed but he grabbed the part of comforter you sat on.

he brought it to his face, sniffing it and immediately relaxing to the smell of you.

to the smell of honey and candy. he hates sweet smells but when it comes to you, he's totally head over heels for it.

he slowly unbuckled his belt and took it off, shifting with the buttons of his jeans as he slipped the zipper off.

he lifted his hips slightly as he lowered his jeans just below the butt.

he grabbed his semi-hard cock as he groaned just when he touched it.

he tried thinking of other things, imagining two people having sex or the pornographic photos merle showed him.

but his mind left drifting back to you, you and your cute dresses that had no intentions of teasing him ever intentionally.

the way you bent over to pick eggs from the chicken coop, showing a little bit of your legs.

he felt like a victorian man seeing some ankles, but instead he saw your legs.

it's not much but he gets a hard on when he glances at your milky white legs.

he raised his hand up and down as he threw his head back, he imagined the way your pretty little mouth would fit his cock in.

he could tell he would have a hard time fitting it in, if ever you and him happened.

he can picture you being a moaning mess beneath him as you cried his name in pleasure.

you, begging him to go faster as your nearing, you, clenching the sheets as you come all over his cock.

the way your breasts would wiggle when he thrusts into you from above and from behind.

he can see the way your cunt hugs around his cock as he had a hard time thrusting in.

but due to the pre-cum from both of you he will start having it easy but still hard due to your tight cunt.

he kept pumping his cock on his hand as he raised his hips, he then imagined fucking you over the window as you glanced at the beautiful view outside.

he stifled a moan when he moved his hands faster, then after a few seconds his hands was covered with his warm white liquid.

he could hear a slight shuffle as he wiped his hands on the towel on the bedside table, he stuffed his cock back in his jeans, fastening it and buckling his belt back.

he wiped his hands on the comforter, if it ever had any liquid left then covered half of his body with the comforter.

then just a minute later, the door opened, revealing you carrying a tray with a bright smile.

"here, coffee and bacon..." you placed the tray beside him as you took a chair and sat next to him.

"y'want?" he asked as he chewed on the bacon, you shook your head.

"daddy is busy, he's busy with carl." you told him as you stood up from the chair, going to one of the cupboard.

"so what?" he asked as he took a sip of his coffee, still chewing on the bacon.

"i'll be your nurse today, isn't that great? i'll get to know you more, mr. dixon." you smiled at him, turning your head back as you rummaged through the things inside.

you grabbed a roll of bandage and a few ointments for him, "better." he whispered under his breath as he tried to avert his eyes from the way your dress rose every time you stood on your tippy toes to reach inside the cupboard.

"i'll change your bandages, they must be covered in your blood." you told him as you closed the cupboard, going back to sit at the chair beside him.

"you should finish that first and i'll give you pain killers." you told him as he nodded, drinking the rest of his coffee.

he set the tray aside as you popped open the organizer, giving him a pain killer.

he took it and drank it with the water you brought earlier, you started assisting him to sitting up straighter.

you slowly took off his bandage as you looked across his back, "it's beautiful." you assured him when he tried to shift away from your touch.

"no scars are beautiful." he argued, hating that you lied to him to make him feel better.

"well, yours are. it shows that you survived that stage of life. i like your tattoos too, does it hurt?" you asked him as you wiped his back.

"when ye get 'em, and fer the first few weeks." he responded with a grunt as you stopped cleaning his back.

"i don't think i'll find someone who still does tattoos." you squint your eyes as you started opening the cap of the ointment.

you applied some to his side gently as he flinched every now and then.

"trust me, ye don't wanna get one." he groaned as he flinched away from your touch.

you pulled away from him as you placed the cap back of the ointment.

you took the bandage, "okay, tell me if it's too tight." you said as you looked at him.

he looked away before he could think about anything else dirty on your sentence.

he simply nodded and raised his arms a bit as you wrapped your arms around him.

you placed the end of the bandage on his back as you circled the bandage, wrapping him.

your touch burned him but he didn't dare say anything else, he simply enjoyed the feelings of your small hands on him.

you finished wrapping his torso in bandage, you set it aside as you sealed the bandage.

"i-i... saw you earlier." you admitted, cheeks red as you stared at the bed.

"w-what?" he stuttered, hoping that you didn't catch him masturbating and moaning your name.

"you were s-saying my name... and you were touching the thing here." you pointed at his bulge as you looked at his eyes.

your blush darkened when you made eye contact with him, his eyes darkened as he looked at your flustered form.

"i... was just trying to make my pain go away." he lied as he looked away from you.

"oh... i learned that, my classmate told me they do that and release a white cream once they feel better." you told him with interest.

"yeah..." he went along as he nodded immediately, he can feel himself growing hard again so he placed a pillow on top.

"are you feeling pain again?" you asked him as your eyes filled with worry.

"y-yeah." he hesitated, she went near him as she touched his forehead.

"i'll make you feel better, daddy told me to take care of you." you sat on the heels of your feet.

"you should." he didn't know where his confidence came from but he used it.

"okay... i-i don't know how to start." you admitted, looking up at him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"take off my jeans." he told her softly, she followed what he said and soon slipped his jeans off his legs.

"i'll make you feel better, mr. dixon... i promise." you smiled at him reassuringly.

you place two hands to wrap around his angry cock, you stare at it with amusement.

it was your first time seeing one, except for the drawings in schools that's presented in science.

"i-is all this big?" you asked as you can't even wrap a hand on him.

"no, baby." he caressed your jaw as you nodded, you copied his actions moments earlier.

you stroke his cock carefully, watching his face contort into pleasure as he closed his eyes.

"are you starting to feel better, mr. dixon?" you asked as you continued stroking his length.

"yes..." he nodded as he gripped the headboards, opening his eyes to see you looking at him with a smile.

you continued moving your hand up and down as he held back a quiet moan, in case hershel heard.

his cock twitched as you stared at it weirdly, it's veins were more prominent and his tip is red.

he was most likely ten inches long or maybe more, he was very thick.

"it feels good... baby." he moaned as he thrust his cock into your hand.

"tell me once you feel better, okay?" you asked him as you stroked him faster.

his cock twitches one more time before his cum rushes down and drips down your hand.

he moaned heavily as he panted, coming down from his high.

"i did it! i made you feel better!" you exclaimed in happiness, not really minding the white liquid covering your hand.

"yes, baby. you did." he smiled as he ruffles your hair, he had an idea as he bit his lips.

"you need to drink my white cream, you might have been infected and that white cream is like a medicine." he said without an ounce of guilt.

you stared at him weirdly once again as he nodded encouragely at you.

you nodded and bent down to face his lower abdomen, you licked his stomach and upper leg as you tried to kick every of his cum that you see.

you also looked at him as you licked your hand, you sucked one of your fingers into your mouth, pulling it out then the other one.

he groaned and almost cum again without contact, just the sight of you like that or even just with your hands on him can almost make him cum.

"it... tastes weird." you told him truthfully as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"what's that? you know that is very disrespectful?" he told you as your eyes went wide.

"i—i didn't know, i'm sorry..." you told him quickly as you shifted.

"you should be grateful for whatever i give you, 'ight?" he held your chin as he studied every inch of your face.

"y—yes." you nodded slowly, completely submitting to him, he smiled at that.

daryl patted your head as he lifted you into his lap, you shifted on top of him comfortably as you looked at his eyes.

he groaned when his tip came in contact with your clothed cunt.

"you feel good, baby?" he asked when you grind onto him for unknown reasons to you.

you nodded as he held your hips to stop you from moving any further.

you felt bliss when his tip was just touching your cunt, you have to feel more.

you want to feel more of him, you want to feel good and you also want him to feel good.

"use your words, sweetheart." he let out a low groan as his grip tightens on your hip.

you whimpered as you tried to form a proper sentence without stuttering or stumbling with your words.

"y—yes, mr. dixon." you nodded as you tried to fight his grip by moving to grind onto him.

"no, baby..." he told you, he scolded you as if you're a little girl who needs a punishment.

"you can't call me, mr... if you want me to make you feel good." he slowly talked to you, like talking to a little girl.

you nodded, "what should i call you? what will i call you?" you asked him as you try to grind onto him.

"daryl..." he teased you, moaning slightly as he said his own name.

you blushed as you took in his name, "daryl." you tried and looked at his eyes.

"it would be weird, da... daddy would be mad if he knew i called an older person by their name, he told me to always be respectful..." you told him what hershel taught you.

"well, your daddy doesn't have to know." he told you as he caressed your hips by his thumb.

"i... can't keep secrets." you told him, looking up at him. he was a lot taller than you even when he was seated with you on his lap.

"well, you have to... or else your daddy and i will be mad at you, do you want that?" he asked as he tapped his thumb onto your hips.

"no... i don't want someone mad at me." you shook your head as you looked down.

you blushed when you saw his erected cock, his tip was touching your clothed cunt.

your dress has lifted a bit when he sat you on his lap, the dress was in your hips, showing your legs and underwear.

"then let's keep this a secret, 'ight?" he leaned closer, pressing his tip into you harder.

you whimpered and nodded your head, he softened his grip on your hips as you stayed in place.

"a-are we going to do sex?" you asked him as you placed your hands on his chest. you played with his chest as you looked back and up at him.

"no, baby. we're going to make love." daryl told you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"but we don't love each other." you told him sheepishly as you looked back at his chest. you admired his tattoos in awe as you traced them softly.

"i love you, and you will love me back after this." he told you firmly as he caressed your hair.

"o—kay..." you said, believing him. your daddy told you to always open your heart.

he leaned in and placed his lips onto yours, you blushed as you didn't know what to do.

you closed your eyes as he kissed you, he placed his grip onto your waist.

he kissed you softly as he bit your lip, you whimpered in pain as he took it as an opportunity to enter his tongue in.

you unconsciously put your arms around his neck as you started to follow his movements.

you tried to kiss him back as you moaned when he sucked on your lower lip.

you were almost embarrassed for the sounds you were making as he kissed you.

you grind your hips onto him unconsciously as you kissed, he sucked on your tongue and lower lip every now and then.

he let you grind your hips into him as you whimpered, you felt good and you want more.

"i-i'm sorry, daryl... but, i want more." you started after you pulled away from him, you tried to also catch your breath.

you were sorry because he just told you earlier how disrespectful it is to not appreciate what you were given.

he smirked and caressed your waist and hair, "you do? what do you want?"

"i feel good, but i want to feel more good..." you told him as you pouted and looked into his eyes.

"do you want daryl in your princess part?" he told you as you nodded, you didn't know what princess part is but you just nodded.

"do you know what that is?" he asked you, you shook your head shyly.

he let out a low chuckled as he let go of your hair he let his hands wander between your thighs as you whimpered.

he caressed it, "this is your princess part, baby." he told you, you didn't say anything as you whimpered, trying to grind onto his hand.

"that's my vagina..." you told him as you so desperately tried grinding onto him.

"no, it's princess part for you, 'right?" he said and slapped your princess part.

you whimpered and nodded, "it's my princess part." you told him as he grinned.

"how bad do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked as he slowly took off your panties.

"so... bad." you whined as you got off his lap and took off your own panties.

you got back on his lap, sitting directly on his cock as you moaned softly.

he teased your entrance as he slid his cock up and down your slit.

"you ready?" he asked and you nodded slowly, you were nervous, it was your first time.

you can't think about anything else, you didn't care if your daddy will get angry if he found out.

you just want daryl, you want to feel good and make love with him.

"i-i'll get pregnant..." you told him worriedly as you placed your hands on his shoulder.

he didn't respond and you gulped, he turned your positions so he was on top of you.

"so wet already?" he tapped his tip into your slit as he teased you.

you nodded, you can feel the wetness on your leg dripping down earlier.

it wasn't the first time you felt like that... you felt it whenever you catch maggie watching pornographic movies.

you felt guilty and confused why you got wet when you also watched the movie secretly.

you immediately went into your room that night and just slept it off.

daryl adjusted his cock into your entrance as he slowly slid in, you gasped in pain as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"daryl... i-i can't, it hurts." you cried as a tear slid down your face.

"it's okay, baby... it's just for a minute or so, everyone experiences this on their first time, it's normal." he told you, wiping your tears.

you nodded and sniffled, it was the truth, you heard your female classmates talking about their first time hurting.

but what isn't normal is the size of daryl's cock, it was beyond the average size.

it added to the pain you were feeling, you felt stretched out even if it was just his tip in you.

you closed your eyes in pain when he pushed a part of him in again. you took deep breaths and tried to calm your self.

"it still hurts..." you told him softly, opening your eyes and looking at him.

he felt a tug at his heart when you looked at him and when he looked at your eyes.

daryl wiped your tears again as he shush you. "it's okay, it'll hurt even more when i pull out."

you pouted but nodded, you wanted this too so you just have to suck it up.

he pushed another part of him in and you just whispered to yourself.

"why are you so big... i—is that normal?" you asked him, glaring at the ceiling.

he just chuckled, he whispered something incoherently to you before pushing the rest of his length in.

"dar—" you shouted in pain but he put his hand onto your mouth, he wiped your tears.

"it's okay..." he slowly told you as he pulled out just to go back in.

you can feel the sudden shift of emotions, you moaned in pleasure and pain the fifth time he slammed into you.

"feels good?" he asked you as he pounded into you, gently then roughly.

"daryl..." you moaned loudly as he pumped in and out, you whimpered.

"stay quiet, your daddy will hear ye'." he whispered to your ear.

you bit down on your lip to stop your loud moans, that even porn models would be jealous of.

daryl loved your moans but it was what would get the both of you caught.

he looked down where both of you meet, your cunt was better than he dreamt of.

your cunt was hugging his cock so tight that his imagination would be so ashamed.

"daryl..." you moaned lowly as he continued his pace, you kissed him as he roughly pumped into you.

"this princess part is mine, got it?" he asked as he slowed his pace.

"daryl— faster!" you bit your lip as you begged him to pick up his pace again.

"got it?" he asked and you nodded, "words, sweetheart." he whispered into your ear.

"yes... it's yours! please— daryl..." you moaned softly as he fastened his pace again.

he can feel you clench around him and he started slowing down just to go faster.

"i-i feel something weird on my tummy... daryl!" you moaned as you squirmed.

"let it out, baby... cum on my cock." he told you as you both can only hear the sound of sound slapping against each other.

you did as he told and let it out, whatever you were feeling on your stomach..

you came as daryl continued pounding onto your cunt relentlessly.

"i would make love to you from day to night if it wasn't your first time, baby..." he whispered.

you were feeling so sensitive that every time he came in contact with your princess part, you messily moaned.

"i-i feel it again..." you said quickly, it hasn't even been a minute since your last release.

daryl was so quick and rough that you came once again, you whimpered as daryl groaned and growled into your ears.

"i'm coming, baby." he muttered under his breath, "i'm cumming inside you."

"i-i'll get pregnant—" you tried to say but was interrupted by your own moan.

you tried protesting but he whispered soft things to your ear.

"i'll take care of you both..." he assured you as he fastened his pace.

"i'll keep stuffing my babies into you so you can never be taken away from me..." he told you.

you nodded, it was a promising life. it was your dream to have your own family someday.

you didn't know if your daddy would be happy with having a grandchild already.

"i'll show the boys interested to you that you're mine and you're carrying my baby..." he moaned.

"y-yes! okay..." you nodded as he thrust into you, you felt attracted to him and you thought it was enough to start a family of your own with him.

you didn't know again what your daddy would feel if you had a family of your own before your older sister, maggie.

"fuck... 'm goin' to cum inside ye'." he told you and his thrust turn sloppy as you can feel warm liquid gush into you.

you whimpered softly as he pulled out his cock. he was still hard even if you were already done.

you can feel your own cum mixed with daryl's cum trickle out of you slowly.

you tried to catch your breath as you pulled down your dress.

"i love ye'..." daryl whispered to you as he stuffed his cum back into you.

you didn't respond and closed your eyes, laying your head on the soft pillow.

you can feel a bit of guilt and regret that you let him cum inside you.

you started to doubt if it was a good idea to let him cum inside you.

you weren't even sure if you were ready to start a family as sure as you were earlier.

"i—i... don't think i want a child at this time..." you told him innocently and softly.

you can't imagine raising a child during an apocalypse where every breath you make is a risk.

"you can't do anything about it... i already came inside you, you're going to carry our child, hm?" he hugged you as he caressed your hair.

you didn't know what to do.

[lewisvinga]

older | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader

summary; with the real ease of y/n’s ep, ‘older’ , everyone goes crazy trying to figure out who she is writing about

fc; maggie lindemann

warnings; age gap , cursing, mentions of sexual themes

notes; requested! n yes it’s similar to agora hills ! also the way i <3 to write abt dating older men should be studied

taglist; @namgification

masterlist !

liked by yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername: older, out now 🖤

yourbestfriend: bitch I FUCKING LOVE THISSS🥴🥴🥴🥴👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

yourbestfriend: tell him to hook me up w one of his friends too ( specifically someone older )🤗🤗🙏🙏🤪🤪

yourusername: LMFAOO, he said he got u

username: OMG

username: thank u mother for serving once again

username: i think abt u w older pls give me a chance

username: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER😩

username: ok but what’s up w yourbestfriend’s comment?? who are u dating??? an old man????

yourusername: ok he’s not an old old man per se, he’s just… a lot older 😁

username: WHAT

username: the sexiest singer itw liked by yourusername!

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and others

yourusername: me n my sexy old man who can please me better than guys my age 🔥🔥

tagged; danielricciardo

danielricciardo: awh come on now, sunshine, i’m not that old! just 10 years older!

yourusername: hmmmmm

yourbestfriend: hook me up w an old rich man like u and i can change her mind

danielricciardo: deal!

danielricciardo: last part is very true & i take pride in it 😌

yourusername: 🙈

danielricciardo: love you ❤️

yourusername: love you 🫶

username: OMG YOUR EP WAS ABT DANIEL RICCIARDO??

username: his grip on her in the 5th picture 🥴🥴😵‍💫😵‍💫

username: i get dangerous woman now bc i too would sing like that if i was fucking daniel ricciardo 😩

username: how did we not catch this, they’ve been following each other for ages 😭

landonorris: gross

yourusername: ur just sad bc i said guys my age can’t please me

landonorris: IVE HOOKED UP W PLENTY OF GIRLS I AM GOOD

yourbestfriend: i volunteer as tribute??

yourusername: do u want an old man or not

yourbestfriend: he’s older than me by 2 months instead of 10 years 🥴

danielricciardo: aren’t you the one who set us up?

yourbestfriend: so can u hook me up w someone or not

danielricciardo: i told u i am ok it

yourusername: that’s my old man❤️‍🔥

username: screaming crying throwing up

username: do u guys need a third??? 🤔🤔

username: i wanna be in between them so bad

username: y/n is sooo right, older men>>> liked by yourusername !

[noceurous]

a guide to dating in twenty first century

you met a kind stranger at a bar, next day you ended up on his couch, on your first date…

warnings: implied age gap, hints of abusive relationships (not by joel or reader), hint of dom!joel, no outbreak, usage of pet name(baby), lots of alcohol consumption, can be considered as dubcon but consent is asked and given, mention of food, swearing, talking about marriage, smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), reader is afab and able bodied, she has some hair.

a/n: here it is folks, my first joel miller fic. please give comments/reblogs if you like it.

part i: the ‘first’ date

The song had just started when you entered the garden side of the bar. A rock classic filling the place, still laudable through all the chattering.

Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find your friends. Just before you took out your phone to text, you saw a familiar back of the head turning towards you. 

“Hey!” Maggie raised her hand, she looked gigglier than usual. You have already told them to start without you so her being tipsy was understandable. You started walking towards their table, “You’re late!” She protested as you got in the earshot.

You pulled the only empty chair they reserved for you and hung your bag at the back. You greeted the rest of the table with a smile and a simple nod before sitting down. All of the girls already ordered their drinks, and half way down finishing the snacks.

“And you don’t wear a tiara or a bride sash!” You half-protested as you turned towards her. Acting like you were just a few minutes late, not like it took you extra half an hour to get ready mentally.

“Not my thing.” You chuckled, raised your hand in the air for a waiter to see you. Thinking you were ready to start drinking and catch up with the girls.

—

The first half of the night was good. You fake-smiled and joined the conversations about when is the best time to have a baby, and best place to have a honeymoon. All thanks to your little helper in a glass. As you were about to finish your second one, you felt like you reached your quota about non ending monogamy speeches.   

A girl turned towards you. She was a colleague of Maggie and you only saw her before once at some New Years party. Jen something? Or was it Jess? You were sure it started with J.

She asked as she leant towards you. “So? Who is going to be your plus one?” 

There it was, the question you waited for all night long. You were the maid of honor, also the only single girl in the table. Of course people were going to ask why you had no plus one. 

“Noone.” You explained in one word, playing with the straw inside your glass.

“Oh, really? Are you sure? You can't just go alone! If you want I can set you up with-” Maggie intertwined the conversation, placing her elbows on the table and her chin inside her palms. As she did, all the girls stopped talking again and all turned their heads to you.

“She is not interested Alice. I’ve even told her the only other person who is coming alone is my grandma, and that’s just because she’s a widow.”

“Well you never know. Maybe she’ll find her next true love from the groom’s side.” Maggie rolled her eyes as the rest of the table chuckled at your joke, returning to talk about what they were talking about before. Before Alice, not Jess nor Jen, could ask you something you put your hands on the table.

“Okay, I need to hit the ladies room first. Then we can talk about why I need to find a guy ASAP.” You said as you raised yourself from your seat.

The ladies room was occupied so you had to wait in line with another girl who seemed too drunk to stand on her own. Playing with her fingers, rocking back and forth in her place. "Do you have weed, or something like that?"

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. "No, sorry." The girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest.

The door opened and the girl in front of you threw herself inside, not even waiting for the other girl to step out properly. You two shared a look, “What is her problem?”

You sighed as you got all alone resting your head on the wall to take a breath. You hated when people became all invested in your love life, or the lack of your love life in better words. 

You spent almost a year to recover from your shitty break up by going on even shittier dates, then you simply gave up. Not like you had too many admirers, since your life was usually spent between work and home.

As you were looking down, somebody’s shoes came into your point of view. The tips of the dark leather boots were pointing on the tips of your high heeled sandals.

“Hi.” You raised your head when you realized he was talking to you.

He was clearly older than you. Salt and pepper hair and a patchy beard and mustache. He seemed cute, and somehow it felt like you could trust him. Like he was over with his bullshitting phase which every guy on your age was into.

He dressed nicely, an old pair of jeans and a dark colored shirt tight enough to hint he was built. Broad shoulders and thick biceps, large colloused hands…

“Hi?” You spoke sooner than you preferred. Sound just one octave higher than it usuallt was.

“Uhm, I don’t wanna seem weird but I noticed ya and heard ya were single so I—” You smiled at the southern accent, it fit him nicely. 

“I don’t want to step over a line, and sorry again if this seems too brave… May I have your phone number?” 

Here it is…

“Oh, well…” You spoke, eyes going between the still occupied ladies room door and the table of your friends.

He raised his hands in the air, taking a step back. Pressing his lips together as he slowly gave you a nod. “I understand completely.”

You felt like someone stabbed you on your chest when your eyes found him back. He looked like a small puppy who got kicked.

What is the worst thing that could happen? You probably gone over many shitty scenarios already.

“Wait-“ You said as you looked at the door again. The girl was taking forever and sure she would not come out anytime soon.

He stopped, raising his eyebrows. Eyes sparkling with a little piece of hope, and you could not find the strength to break his heart in yourself.

“I’d be happy to give my phone number.” He smiled, taking out his phone from his back pocket, opening his keypad before giving it to you.

You quickly tapped your number and called yourself. Your phone buzzed inside your back pocket. As you took it out, its screen was screen flashing with an unsaved number, “Done.”

“I’m Joel, by the way.”

“Hi Joel.” And you gave him your name, the first time it sounded so natural to hear it from someone else.

Like she took it as a que, the girl finally stepped out leaving the light switched on. Joel pointed to the door with his chin, before taking a step back again. “I’ll text you.” He said before leaving.

When you made it back to your table, your drink was gone and so were some of the girls including the girl whose name starts with J. And you just felt a relief that she would not ask you anymore questions about your dating life.

“I thought you left.” Maggie said, finishing her fourth glass. 

“The girl before me took forever.” You explained as you put on your purse, preparing to leave with the rest of the gang. You scanned the room, hoping maybe you would see Joel somewhere in the corner. But all you saw was a guy eyeing you up and down, courtesy of wearing a skirt in the 21st century. 

“Do you want me to call you a cab as well?” You turned to Maggie, shaking your head.

“No. I will take the subway. It’s cheaper. I spent a good amount back there, my credit card deserves a break.” She chuckled as she gave you a kiss goodbye.

On your way back you saved Joel’s number in your contacts. Joel.

Plain and simple, because he was the first Joel you knew.

He hadn’t texted you by the time you made it to your place. You tried your best to not overthink it. Calling it a lucky shot if he remembered to text you the next morning, and focus on anything but him.

You put your phone back on your nightstand after checking it for the 1000th time. Hating for yourself how you always ended up as the person who waits.

On next day at 13:42 your phone buzzed with a message.

After spending the night wondering when he would text you back and trying to distract yourself from wondering…

Hi, it’s Joel Miller from last night. I got your number as you were waiting on line at Ophelia’s ladies room.

You smiled at the formality of the text message. It was probably better than ‘wasssuppp’ the guys around your age sent you.

You quickly started typing a reply. He was still online, you felt that was your lucky shot. Hoping would not wait for 12 hours again for a reply.

Even if he did, you would just give up and throw your phone out the window.

hi joel

You felt a weight was over your chest when you saw typing… under his name. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you saw his message.

How are you? Any signs of hangover?

just tired from last night.

we left the place at 2:24 AM.

That’s bad. I assumed you would leave later than us, so I didn’t want to text you in the morning and disturb you.

The us seemed more important to you than focusing on the fact that he only texted late because he cared.

Because he thought you could be tired, and he just did not want to disturb you late at night—

us?

Yeah, throw your senses out the window… Ask it away…

I was with my brother last night.

You felt shame because of your doubts. What would he say, his wife?

I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?

I’m a nice cook :)

sure :)

is 19:30 good?

Yes it is. I’m sending you my location.

I can also send an Uber to pick you up.

no it’s fine. you don’t live far.

At exactly 19:33 you rang the doorbell. You fixed your top as you waited for him. It was cute and see through enough for a first date. You’ve also taken your pants showing your ass like a masterpiece from dry cleaners.

Lucky guy…

You didn’t tell Maggie or someone else that you were going on a date because you didn’t want them spiral this into something bigger than it was.

You felt the inside of your palms getting wetter. Your heartbeat sped up as each second he did not open the door.

Should you go back? Maybe you co—

He opened the door before you could gather your thoughts. Smiling when his eyes found you, leaning his head towards the door. “Hi.” He did not look nervous like you, he looked like it was just a Saturday night for him.

“Hi.” You said smiling back, and joined your hands in front of you. Feeling the muscles on your back relax as he opened the door wider for you and stepped inside.

“Welcome. Sorry it took me awhile to open the door, I was waiting for water to boil.” He explained as he closed the door and turned towards you.

You took a better look at the place once you were inside. It did not have much, seemed like he only purchased the necessary stuff. He did not have posters or painting decorating his walls like yours did, or a large bookshelf filled with books.

“You have a nice place.” You said as you followed his guide to kitchen.

He turned on his heels, looking at you. He was wearing a dark Pink Floyd tshirt and blue jeans. You could see his biceps peeking out from the sleeves. His hair was nicely done, beard was trimmed. He looked even better than you remembered.

“Oh thanks, I’ve just moved in here actually, wanted to be closer t’ city.” He said as he pulled your chair for you to sit. “Dinner will be around half an hour, do you want to have something to drink first?”

“Sure.” You said as you sat on the bar stool, watching him to come back with beers. When he closed the fridge door you noticed the only photo placed on it. The magnet was just some dark circle, and your fridge was decorated with cute and funny ones.

On the photo Joel was next to some guy and had his arm placed on his shoulder. The guy had a longer, combed back hair but shared Joel's love for mustaches.

They were both wearing black tux, and had a buttonhole. The guy’s was larger than Joel’s, so you thought it was probably from a wedding.

“Who is that?” You asked as you pointed on the photo. He looked over his shoulder.

“That’s Tommy, my little brother. It’s from his wedding day. 'was a few years ago.” He explained casually, taking a sip from his beer. “I was the bestman.”

“My friend is getting married in two weeks as well, I’m the maid of honor. We were having bacholerrette party the other night.” You felt a twist on your stomach as you spoke. A pressure on your shoulder getting heavier as you spoke. You tried your best not to frown, as you remembered what your ex told you.

You’re overwhelming, all your problems and your whines… All you do is talk talk talk—

“A few weeks later you may have one on your fridge with your friend as well.” You smiled at the thought. Not like there was a space left on your fridge for one more photo.

“Yeah I suppose. I hope we both look good in the photo as you guys do.”

“Hire a professional. That’s the secret. You cannot tell we were both hammered, thanks to the guy.” He admitted and you both laughed at that. You felt lighter as he joked and asked you questions. The knots in your stomach getting untwisted as he spoke. You weren't sure if it was because of beer or his interest even in the most mundane things you told him, but you felt lighter. “Are you excited for the wedding?”

“Not really, they’ve been dating for years. I was wondering when he would ask, rather than if he would ask.” He nodded, checking the food in the pot and he raised himself to stir it.

You gulped when you saw his flexing muscles underneath his tshirt. Your fingers played with the rim of bottle, watching him prepare the plates and his thick arms and long fingers move.

“Tommy was nervous as hell when he proposed. Maybe same thing happened with him as well.”

“Yeah maybe. The idea of marriage can be scary.”

“You think so?”

You are not the kind of girl suitable for marriage.

“Yes, but I also know you do not get scarred that much when you know you are married with the right person.” You were not sure if you were saying this to him or yourself.

“Well, you haven’t seen my brother at the end of the aisle but he is one of a kind guy. But Maria was relaxed, so you might be right.” He said as he came back with two plates of food.

“It looks delicious.”

“Told ya I was a nice cook. Let’s dig in.”

—

The most of the dinner was spent with questions about your jobs and family. Nothing too personal, nothing to make you nervous. Although you had beer for that. The screeching voice of your ex had stopped echoing in your head.

Now you were sitting on his couch, drinking and going over your funny stories to one another.

His knees were touching yours, his hands was close to your thigh, but he was not directly touching you. His left hand’s pinky were barely grazing your upper thigh.

“So the stripper you hired took wallets of three guys from the party and nobody blamed you?”

“Well, I got the number from a guy at work. If anybody were to be blamed, then it would be him. Plus, I’m not someone who loses all his senses when a girl in underwear sits on my lap.”

“You are not?”

“Nawh baby, I’m not a teenager anymore. I can focus when a pretty girl is on ma lap.” You raised your eyebrows, chuckling at his confession.

Baby.

You could definitely go with being called baby.

You wetted your lips as his pinky brushed your thigh, you had to restrain yourself from opening your legs.

“Really? That’s good for you then, we don’t want your wallet to be stolen as well.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing over your thighs. When you turned your gaze at him your heart skipped a beat.

He looked amazing in the dimmed lights of the room. You got closer to him, wondering what would be his next move.

“Want me to show you?” He whispered and you nodded. A bit quicker than you’d prefer…

He gently pressed his lips on yours. Waiting for a response as his lips lingered on yours. You kissed him back, leaning your body closer to his.

The kiss was slow; he didn’t push his tongue into your mouth right away. Something you were glad he didn’t.

His hands stood on his sides, allowing you to set the pace. You bit down on his lower lip, slowly, signaling him to open his mouth. He grunted, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from touching you. Opening his mouth to push his tongue inside yours, sucking your tongue.

You could taste the bitter taste of the beer, but didn’t mind. Sure same could apply for you as well. Your hands placed on his cheeks, his stubble digging inside your palms.

He slowly placed his hands on your waist, guiding you on his lap. When you were settled, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. A small whimper left your lips, when you felt him getting harder under you.

His other hand moved south, palm following the shape of your ass. Your one hand moved further down, feeling his muscles fletch inside his tshirt.

“You’re good.” You admitted as you broke the kiss for air. His hands still on your body, caressing you. He rested his head on the back of the couch.

“‘Want me to show ya things I’m better at?” His tone was smug. You nodded quickly, letting your body make decisions for you.

He pulled you back to his torso, kissing you rougher than before. His hand was now in front of your jeans, cupping you. You moaned when he pressed his fingers onto tight denim.

A few seconds later you were lying down on the couch with him between your legs and your jeans were already left your body.

His palms were rough as they moved across your legs, moving towards your upper thighs then your panties. “May I?” He said between kisses, waiting for your approval.

You nodded, but he only hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties. “Words baby, use your words.” You felt yourself getting wetter when he called you by that nickname again.

“Yes, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He said as he quickly pecked your lips, sliding off your underwear. His fingers traced your lips, gathering your slick. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be this wet baby.” He whispered on your lips.

You felt the heat rising through your cheeks but before you could hide your face Joel already pushed a finger inside you. “Oh!” You moaned loudly, he raised your leg and hooked it on his shoulder.

“I’d love to hear your voice baby. Let’s see if you can be louder.” He said as he started moving his finger rapidly. Hitting your sweet spot with the pad of his finger at each stroke.

Your toes curled and you felt your stomach got tighten with his movements. “Hmph J-Joel!” You held onto his upper arm for support. His lips on your neck, kissing and nibbling. Before giving you a chance to get used to first one, he pushed his second finger inside you. Your grasp on his arm got tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks.

You could feel yourself drip onto his palm, hearing the slick noises as his fingers moved inside you. “I-I’m cl-close.” You admitted, feeling your walls close around his fingers.

“Yeah baby?” He said as he slowed down to look at you, brushing off to hair strands on your face. You nodded, biting down on your lower lip. “Let go for me, okay? Come on.” He said as he got back to his old pace, scissoring his fingers.

When your orgasm hit you, you raised your head to kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. He gladly surrendered to your kiss, his hand placed on your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Slowly pulling his fingers as your breaths slowed down. His hand moved to the hem of your top. You felt your heart shrunk on your chest. You placed your hand on top of his, shaking your head.

He pulled his hand back like it just touched fire. Muttering an apology as you raised yourself. “I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching for your underwear and pants to quickly put them on.

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You explained as you checked the time on your phone.

10:34 PM.

After ten is late right?

He nodded quickly. “Let me drop you off.” He said as he got up from the couch. You noticed his boner once he stood back on his feet. Pressing your lips together to stop your cunt from throbbing at the sight.

You were leaving the guy who gave you a body wrecking orgasm with a huge, thick boner…

“We both drank. I think it is better for me to call an Uber.”

“You are right.” He slurred his words, walking over to you. “Let me walk you out then. I can join you as you wait.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You dropped your shoulders, seeing the guilt all over his face. You nodded, allowing him to walk with you.

You took out your phone to call for an Uber. Sighing with relief when you saw your driver was close to you.

“So that was… good?” You raised your head back to him. Putting your phone back inside your bag. Guilt and tension were all over his face.

“I really had a nice time. I have this thing in the morning and we drank and it’s—” He put his hands in the air. Stopping your mumbling.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He said, smiling down at you. “I’ll call you then, for next time?”

“Yeah that’d be great.” You answered, eyes going back and forth between him and the road.

Shifting on your feet from one foot to other. His hands were in his pockets. Resting his body on the metal gate, casually checking you up and down.

When you saw your car coming you gave him a small goodbye hug, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I had a great time. Thanks for everything.” You explained again, trying your best to assure him he had done nothing wrong.

“Anytime. Text me once you get back, alright?”

“Sure.” You said as you walked over to your car, looking over your shoulder before you got in. He waved you slightly, you smiled back and he mouthed the words ‘Be safe.’

Once he was out of your sight, you relaxed on your seat. Let go of the breath you were holding since you put back on your jeans.

Your fingers were rubbing your temples. As you quickly recapped the night.

You ended up on a guy’s lap again on the first date. You even went to his place and let him finger you. At least you did not let him fuck you with his seemingly huge cock. That showed self-improvement…

And lastly, you turned down the guy who was the nicest guy you have met.

You knew you kissed your chance to a second date goodbye as the Uber turned around the corner to your street.

[part ii]

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 23]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.2k

ao3 link

Matt’s eyes flutter shut as you smooth your thumbs over his forehead. The urge to press forward into your touch is nearly overwhelming, but he controls himself. Your fingers run down his temple and to the apples of his cheeks, oh so gently rubbing sunblock into his skin. He doesn’t remember the last time he used the product, but his sweet Minnie demanded he wear it, and who is he to deny his daughter on her birthday?

You are in complete Mom mode - focused on making sure all his exposed skin is covered - so you don’t realize how intimate you are being with him. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you back - to hold your waist and rub your arms and feel you against him. It is far from the first time he’s felt this and mentally repeating the Lord’s Prayer helps him keep his thoughts from straying. 

Especially when your fingers dance down to his neck. 

He may or may not have fantasies about you pressing your hand into his windpipe while riding him. He may or may not have finally given into his mother’s pressures about talking to the new priest because he was beginning to feel guilty about how often he may or may not have touched himself to those fantasies. 

Matt wants so badly to show you how much he loves you, but you aren’t ready for it yet, and he understands. You’ve accepted him for who he is and what he does. You want to know more and aren’t accusatory when you ask questions. You’ve been snatched up into his whirlwind of a life and are adjusting in a way he didn’t think was possible, but you are still adjusting and he’s not going to push more onto you. 

You’ve been slow to accept physical gestures and as much as it pains him, he’s happy to go at your pace. He cherishes each moment you let him hold you and his heart soars when you are the one to initiate it. You don’t flinch or pull back when he rests a hand on your hip or back. Slow and steady wins the race and if you want to stroll, he’ll stroll right along with you.

“All done,” you say, breaking him from his thoughts as you step away. “We shouldn’t be out here long enough that we will need to reapply.”

“Thank you,” he replies. He puts his glasses back on and he follows your movements as you put the sunscreen back in your purse. “Do you need help with anything?”

The second phase of Minnie’s Birthday Bash Weekend - after her princess breakfast and makeover - is the Park Party. Multiple blankets have been laid out for everyone to sit on and the wagon is filled to the brim with supplies - there’s a drink cooler, a snack cooler, a series of toys Minnie insisted they add so no one gets bored, and tucked in the corner, unopened presents they picked up from Sister Maggie. Foggy showed up early so he could enjoy the walk to the park with the birthday girl and Karen and Frank should be arriving soon. 

Matt knows you are going to fuss over the details and try to play Good Host, and he wants you to relax and have a good time instead. 

But sometimes, he thinks fussing is your idea of fun. You make a shooing motion at him and there is a bit of a laugh in your voice when you tell him, “Go play with your daughter.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Foggy and Minnie are on the sidewalk, setting up her newest toy. Fog got Mouse some sort of pogo stick for toddlers and from her excited explanation to him, it is pink and princess themed. Matt has no idea how a pogo stick for toddlers could possibly work - Minnie can barely balance on one leg - but you seemed to have no issue with the device, so he chalks it up to having missed something in the explanation that would be obvious to a sighted person. 

“Okay, squirt. Go ahead and step on,” Foggy tells Minnie. Matt can sense some sort of small platform that his little one steps onto, then she is being handed something that reminds him of a bike handle. “Okay. Try jumping.”

Mouse jumps straight up, and to his surprise, the little platform bounces when it hits the ground again, sending her back up about half an inch. That seems like more than enough height for her, as she lets out an absolutely delighted scream and quickly starts to repeat the motion. 

She bounces four times before she loses her balance and falls off the platform, but Matt doesn’t even get the chance to step forward to help her. She’s right back on and jumping in place - beaming ear to ear. 

“Look at you go!” Foggy cooes and Matt can’t help but grin. “You are a little hopping machine!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Mouse cheers as she does just that. “Hop! Hop! Hop!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Both he and Fog echo, and they are on the same wavelength, because they both mimic her by bouncing on the balls of their feet. 

Matt can sense you aiming your phone at Mouse, most likely taking a picture or filming them, so he quickly prompts her, hoping for a cute moment. “Sweetie, what do you say to Foggy?”

“Thank you, Froggy, you are the bestest!” 

“You are very welcome, birthday girl!” Fog, of course, quickly turns to Matt to jokingly rub in, “Hear that, Murdock? I’m the bestest.” 

Minnie stumbles again and Matt realizes she will not need help unless she trips and falls to the ground. She’s back to bouncing within a second and defending his honor. 

“You’re the bestest, but Daddy’s Super Bestest and Mommy is Super-Duper Bestest.”

Foggy must pull a face, because both you and Minnie laugh before he gives in, “Okay, I will allow this because it is your birthday. But no take backsies. I’m the bestest.”

“No take backsies!” Mouse quickly parrots before turning her attention back to her toy. She dissolves into giggles as she jumps up and down and he can only imagine how big her smile must be.

He takes a moment to focus in on one of the gifts he got her. He didn’t get called Bestest for it, but Matt hopes it will be something she grows to cherish. He spent a pretty penny to get it custom made as he was incredibly particular about the quality, but it was more than worth it - a gold heart necklace with ‘I love you’ in Braille on one side, and on the other, the date he found out she existed. 

He knows she can’t always wear it - it is a choking hazard until she’s older - but right now it is bumping against her manubrium and he can’t help but smile and reach to fiddle with the bracelet hanging on his wrist. 

It has become almost like a rosary to him. When he’s thinking, he finds himself pulling the beads up to go around his hand and he will thumb at them, tracing over the hearts his sweet Minnie gave him. The only time he doesn’t wear it is when he’s out on Patrol - and that is only because he’s scared he’ll end up breaking it. Otherwise, he has it on - asleep, in the shower, in court - Matt proudly wears his friendship bracelet.

Of course, no one is none the wiser to his private moment. Foggy continues to encourage Mouse to bounce and enjoy her gift. Matt is pretty sure this is one of the toys she is going to run into the ground because she uses it so much. 

“Hey, Fog, where did you get this thing?” 

“Online,” his friend quickly replies. “I’ll send you the link. One of the Littles got one for their birthday and loved it, so I went with a peer-reviewed product instead of trying my luck on something unknown.”

“I didn’t even know this existed,” you say from your spot on the blankets. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Foggy says with an uptick in his voice, indicating he is smiling. “But I’ll warn you, some of them come with a squeaker in them. I hunted for the one without one. I wanted to take pity on the bat-ears.”

Matt throws back his head as he laughs and concedes, “Okay, maybe you are the Bestest.”

“I knew it!”

“Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest!” Minnie starts to chant as she plays. Foggy joins her and Matt claps along for a moment. 

You laugh at them, and it is one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard - it is you actually being truly happy.

The joy is cut short, and it morphs into panic when Minnie very suddenly drops her pogo stick and takes off running towards the other side of the park. Her movements are so quick and erratic that Matt doesn’t react right away, having not anticipated them. You scramble up to chase her just as he begins to move to do the same.

“Minnie! Come back here!” You shout as you hurry after your daughter.

Matt opens up his senses, needing to know what has Minnie so excited that it overrode her being the shy little angel he’s used to. He zeroes in on it instantly.

Karen, Frank, and Frank’s dog Max have just arrived, parking on the street outside the green space. Minnie is making a beeline right towards them, but luckily, her little legs are no match for Matt and he scoops her up before she can get too far from their picnic. She instantly begins to struggle against him, flailing and kicking and trying her best to fight his hold, but he turns her around and forces her onto his hip. 

“Minnie, you cannot run off!” he chastises as you catch up to them. “You know better than that. You know you need to stay with us.”

“It’s Mister Frank and he has a doggie!” She tries to explain, clearly excited and overly enthusiastic, but Matt won’t be swayed. “I gotta go say hi to him! And asks if I can play with his doggie! I’ve never played with a doggie! I wanna play with the doggie!”

“It’s dangerous to just run off. You have to ask Mommy or me first.” Matt tells her. He’s trying to remain calm, but the fear from her just running away is still in his system. He knows he can’t yell or scold her - it’s her special day and she just got too excited, but he needs her to know that isn’t okay.

Luckily, you seem to know how to handle this.

“No running off,” you emphasize, putting your hand on her back and almost crowding her into Matt, which he is more than okay with. “Part of being a Big Girl is knowing the rules. If you can’t follow the rules, what happens?”

Minnie deflates against him, all her jubilation evaporating, and guilt pools in his chest as his precious little baby mumbles out, “We go home.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t wanna go home. I wanna play with Froggy more and Mister Frank and his doggie.” 

You reach up to push some of her hair out of her face and gently comfort her, “we’re not going to go home. But you gotta be good, okay? Mister Frank and Karen are coming to us. You don’t have to run to them, okay?”

“Okay.”

It seems like Minnie will not bolt if Matt sets her down, so he takes that chance. She fusses with smoothing out her princess dress for a moment and patting it free of any dust before looking up at you, “When he gets close can I go say hi? Please? Please? Please?”

She asks so sweetly it is a miracle you don’t cave immediately. You put your hands on your hips as you pretend to think over your answer. After a few moments, you reply, “When he gets as close to us as we are to Froggy, you can go say hi.”

Minnie whips around to judge the distance - she had only gotten about thirty or forty feet before Matt caught her - before turning back. She literally bounces from foot to foot as she waits for Frank and Karen to get close enough that she can run to them and that helps to dissipate the lingering guilt he has. He defaults to you to give the ‘okay’ signal, and when you do, Minnie takes off again at a speed he didn’t think toddlers could achieve. 

“Mister Frank! Mister Frank! It’s my birthday!” she yells as she streaks towards him. 

Matt isn’t exactly keen on Minnie’s excitement for Frank, but he accepts the man is entering his circle more now that he and Karen are in a relationship. When they aren’t butting heads about the morality of killing, he thinks he and Frank get along well enough. They take jabs at each other and even if it can be scathing, neither of them takes it personally. Danger follows Frank and Matt is acutely aware of that, but he also has some je ne sai quoi with kids and Minnie is not immune to it. 

You and Matt follow after your daughter while Frank passes off Max’s leash to Karen so he can catch the toddler rocket coming right at him. The Devil in Matt’s chest growls with jealousy and possessiveness when Frank picks Mouse up to hold her without any shyness from his little one and she’s tossed slightly up into the air.

“It’s your birthday? Well, it’s a good thing we got all those presents in the truck, then, ain’t it, Karen?”

“I wonder who they could be for,” Karen teases and Minnie turns into a giggling mess, hiding her hands in her face.

“Are they for me?” She asks, so sweet and genuine and not at all greedy. Matt’s heart glows with how pure his daughter is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

“It is your birthday,” Frank tells her and that just makes her more delighted.

“I’m getting so many presents! Mommy gave me presents and Daddy gave me presents and Froggy gave me presents and Froggy’s Mommy gave me presents AND…and Daddy’s Mommy gave me presents. That’s like…” She pauses and lifts up her hands in front of her face and Matt thinks she must be trying to count. Finally, she decides on a number, “That’s like twelve presents!”

She certainly received more than twelve presents from you alone - there were so many components to her new kitchen set - but he knows everyone understands what she means. Minnie is being absolutely spoiled for her birthday. 

“That is a lot of presents!” Karen cooes, “You aren’t tired from opening them all?”

“Not uh! I’m a Big Girl!” 

“We can have a second round of opening presents after the park,” you inform Minnie and even without his enhanced hearing, he can tell you are smiling - you sound so happy. “We can have cake at home, and you can show everyone what you got.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Frank says, bouncing Mouse in his arms a little. “What do you say, Princess?”

She nods eagerly, “A good plan!” 

You all begin to walk back towards the picnic - and Foggy, who has relocated the pogo stick to the blankets - and Minnie gets to the next order of business. 

“Can I pet your doggie?” 

Max seems to know he’s being talked about, as he starts making little noises and adding a wiggle to his walk. Matt has met the dog a few times now and even he admits the animal is a sweet one, especially for an ex-fighting dog. He knows that Frank didn’t keep Max initially, but when he resettled in New York a few months ago, the dog also reappeared. Matt doesn’t question it - he thinks caring for the dog is good for Frank and Karen absolutely adores him. 

“Do you know how to pet a dog?” Frank asks, amusement clear in his voice.

Minnie shakes her head, but as always, has a solution, “No, but I can learns! Mommy says…Mommy says when we don’t know something, we can learn it by askings! I can asks my tablet!” She pauses, then dramatically slaps her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t have my tablet, its at home.” 

They all laugh at her antics and as they approach their picnic, Frank sets Minnie down, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can teach you. And I can show you how to play fetch, too.”

Karen goes to hug Foggy a hello, while you and she start to strike up a conversation catching up. Matt decides to allow you the time to have an adult moment, and he keeps his attention on Minnie, Frank, and Max. 

“Before you can pet him, you need to introduce yourself,” Frank starts, moving to sit down on the blankets as he does. Minnie plops down beside him and Matt takes a seat beside her. “You need to hold out your hand so he can sniff it. He can’t talk, so he gets to know you through smell.”

He demonstrates by holding out his hand to Max. The dog snuffles at it, then begins to lick at Frank, his tail starting to wag. Matt can practically feel Minnie analyzing what is happening, then after a moment, she sticks her little hand out towards Max. The dog clearly gets excited by this and turns his big head towards his daughter. He could so very easily bite off her whole arm - Minnie is small for her age and Max is a big dog - but instead he oh so gently presses his nose to her skin before giving it a tiny lick. 

“He likes me!” Minnie says in a whisper-gasp and Matt tries his best to not laugh. 

“He does, he wants to be your friend,” Frank tells her.

“I wanna be his friend, too!” She declares before mimicking Max by leaning in and sniffing at him loudly. He can’t hold back his amusement when she sticks out her tongue with a, “He’s stinky!”

“He’s a dog, all dogs stink,” Frank laughs, “but he’s still a good dog.”

“How do I pets him?” Mouse asks, obviously so very excited and wanting to learn how to pet Max correctly. 

Matt leans back and observes as Frank gently guides his daughter’s hands, showing her where to pet the sweet dog. He hopes this doesn’t lead to her wanting her own puppy - though she will probably spend a fair amount of time pretending Scooby is a real dog instead of her companion in trouble. 

Matt has never wanted a dog before - mostly because it has always been pitched as a guide dog and he doesn’t need one - but he wonders if his mind would change if you wanted a dog. He knows it isn’t possible in your current apartment, but what if you moved to somewhere bigger? Where Minnie could have her own bedroom and maybe you could have your own yard. 

Where, maybe, he could move in with you, and you could be a proper, traditional family. He could be with you - provide for you like he should have always been doing. He could sleep in your bed at night and tell you he loves you in the morning. Where he could tuck Minnie in before he goes on Patrol and he could learn all her Quiet Games.

Where he could protect his family.

Where he could have something he’s always wanted.

Where maybe, just maybe, Matt Murdock could finally have a home. 

--

a/n:

Every one say Happy Birthday to the Birthday girl!

part one of the birthday weekend. Sorry it is a little short We have another birthday day chapter after this then Minnie gets her Zoo Trip!

--

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

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@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

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@

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

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 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[renren-006]

Over The Years- Daryl x Fem Reader

plot: being in love with daryl through the years but he’s clueless

word count: 2639

a/n: hey! i love that you guys have been eating up my Daryl Fics soooo heres another one. this took me sooo long to write so oi hope you enjoy!!

This has been posted on AO3- Over The Years

taglist: @rosecentury

Atlanta - 1:

"you've been staring at him all day, y/n," Lori said, coming to your side. You were standing by the van, 'helping Dale,' watching Daryl do whatever he was doing in his little area. You offered to help, but the man shooed you off.

"I'm not," you told her; she gave you the mom look she gave Carl, making you cave. "okay, so what if I am?"

"Just be careful, hunny," she told you, "he's not the type to realize his or your feelings."

"I know," you told Lori. This wasn't the first of these conversations, but it was the last time someone told you to be careful.

Atlanta - 2:

"If yer trying to fish here, yer in the wrong spot," Daryl said as he came up behind you on a rock, trying to catch fish or just waste the day away.

"I figured," you told him, hitting the empty bucket you had. "I'm just…"

"Tryna' not to be bored?" He asked you. You nodded.

"You want to know how ta' catch fish?" he asked; you smiled and nodded, reeling the cast in and handing him the pol, following him to a different spot and spending the rest of the afternoon taking tips from him on fishing. If someone asked you what you learned, you could only tell them that Daryl's eyes looked almost green in the sunlight.

Farm - 1:

you saw him take his stuff and walk off; he hiked over weeds to his area a yelling distance away. Carol watched you watch the man walking away from the group's solidarity.

"he's stubborn," she commented; you nodded. You faced her, to see she was already watching you. "he's stubborn with his feelings too."

"I know. I know both those things," you told Carol; she nodded. She walked off after patting your back, knowing you knew the unsaid things in the air. You continued working around the group, keeping watch, cooking dinner, and helping with the Greene family. Maggie became a close friend of yours through the days on the farm.

Farm - 2:

"Hey," you said as you stood in the doorway. Daryl glanced up from bed, his shirt half on over his bandages.

"Hey," he said, not responding more to you entering his room.

"Just wanted to check on you."

"Dont need ya to," Daryl said, trying to hide from you more and more. You stood in the doorway still, knowing entering wouldn't go well.

"I didn't ask if you did," you told him. "I'm in the kitchen; shout if you want anything."

Part of you wanted to give more care to him, show him you cared, but you knew him well enough to know he didn't need that from you. He nodded his head at you, and you closed the door again. Then, he walked down back to the kitchen to help Maggie with lunch.

Farm - 3:

"Ya need help," Daryl asked. You were trying to get a sheet of wood up on the window to nail it shit, but you only had two hands. He came up and grabbed the wood from you, holding it up for you

"Thank you," you told him, and he grunted back at you. You finished up nailing in the panels with his help.

"You need any help?"

"Nah, I got it," he said, leaving after helping you. Things were still the same between the two of you, you thought. Daryl, however, couldn't see how he was growing to care for you.

On the road:

You never planned on getting hurt, but it just happened. You, Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie were off in a group scouting a building you had seen. Rick had made the five of you go to keep an eye on each other and get as much stuff as possible. You walked in first, knife in hand, Glenn close behind with a flashlight. Maggie and Daryl took the rear, much to Daryl's dismay.

Once you were all inside the building, you realized this used to be a Military compound, a small one, but it still had some things left inside. There was an airfield outside, probably a small compound not used for much. Once you split off from everyone, you wandered around the shelving units, finding some rations. When you didn't see the ceiling being held up by one of the shelving units and when you accidentally bumped into it, part of the roof came falling down. You yelled as part of it fell on top of you, crushing your ankle. Daryl was the first person over to you, rushing to see what was wrong.

"The roof! I didn't see," you said, grinding your teeth. Daryl stood there, eyes wide at seeing you on the floor with half the ceiling on your leg. "Daryl!" you practically yelled at him. The shock of you yelling shocked him out of his daze, and he rushed to lift the wood off your leg. Glen and Maggie rushed over soon after seeing the aftermath of the roof collapse and Daryl lifting it off you.

"What happened?" Maggie asked as she picked me up. I hobbled a bit, yelping when I put my left leg down. "Shit"

"The roof...I didn't see that it was falling, and the shelves were holding it up," you said, "I think I fucked up my ankle."

"How could ya not look?" Darly said angrily, "Now ya hurt and.."

"Hey, it's fine, Daryl. She didn't know. This could have happened to any of us," Glenn defended. "Let's look for crutches; they have to have some here. After you look around, you find some crammed in the back of a closet and leave the building. Daryl hung back with you while you were trying to walk.

"I shouldenta' yelled," Daryl said, breaking your silence. You nodded, knowing he was only trying to look after you.

"It's okay."

"Nah, it's not," he told you, stopping you from walking any further "Sorry"

"It's okay, Daryl, really. I was stupid anyway."

"Nah, coulda' happened to anyone," he said. During the rest of the walk, you had a small smile, and Daryl had a hand on your back guiding you. He didn't want you to fall again, let alone on his watch.

Prison:

The prison setting took everyone a while to settle into it; Daryl, however, took to it really fast, moving into one of the guard towers. You desperately wanted to be near him again, not only because you knew how you felt but also because he was the only person you felt truly safe around. You watched him go back to that guard station every night after dinner just outside the cell block. You turned back into your bunk at the end of the hall, far from everyone and enough privacy that you felt calm. Carol already knew about your affection for the archer and tried many times to get the two of you to sit next to each other. You moved, always, leaving the spot open for Glenn to take and talk Daryl's ear off about whatever he had found on a run that day. You took your spot next to Maggie, who silently let you watch the archer with no complaints.

That was months ago.

"Why don't you join us on the run tomorrow?" Maggie asked you, "We need to find stuff for Judith."

"Yes, I'll come."

"No, ya won't," Daryl said, walking up behind the two of you outside.

"Daryl, I'm fine. I'm going."

"Then I'm coming'" He said, glaring daggers at the two of you and going to get his bike ready.

"Ass," you muttered to him as he walked away; he didn't seem to hear you.

"He cares," Maggie said as you grabbed the bags by the upper gate. You signed, you knew that but for some reason, he had distanced himself, or maybe you had

"Whatever," you said and made your way down the path. The pickup truck was made for two, and Daryl knew that.

"Hop on," he said, riding up to you. You looked at him, and it seemed like he knew you wanted him there. You climbed on behind him and headed out with the others. The ride was quiet, but it spoke enough about the two of you that no words needed to be spoken.

Daryl and you scouted a house; all was quiet between you two. You found an unopened can of peanut butter and showed it to him, he smiled over at you.

"Who knew we'd find it," he told you, taking it from your hands.

"Guess you're my good luck charm," you told him, grabbing the can back and putting it in your bag. When you glanced back, he was looking at you. "Daryl?"

"Nah, it's nothin'," he said, snapping out of his daze. "I'm looking upstairs," he said, moving away from you and up to the tip floor. You continued rummaging through the downstairs before heading out to the porch and waiting for Daryl.

Prison:

Daryl didn't get jealous. You had never seen him that way. It was early in the morning, everyone was outside, and you were helping Carol with the food prep. One of the guys from the town you saved had a very obvious thing for you. He was younger than you, but it didn't bother him. He made a move that morning in Daryl's direct eyesight. He had come over, taking your ear off, and then he got close, trying to grab or touch you. You had stepped away, trying to tell him that you didn't see him like that and that he needed to give you space. He didn't listen. Daryl barged over and tugged the guy back from you.

"Didn't ya hear? She said to back off," Daryl said, putting himself between him and you.

"Oh, shit! Hi Daryl!" the guy said, unaware that Daryl could rip this guy to shreds. You put your hand on his bicep, feeling it flex under your touch.

"I'm fine," you told him calmly. He looked back at you, seeing that you were relieved he stopped in but worried he would rip the guy to shreds.

"Good," he said, pushing the guy back, "don't ya go near her again," the guy nodded, running off, getting the message.

On the run:

You were with Daryl and Beth, wandering around the unfamiliar world. It was a miracle that you found Beth during the invasion and even more so that Daryl made a B-line for you. When the three of you started on your journey, it was slow. Daryl watched for the two of you Until Beth was taken in the night.

"Beth!" you yelled, "Beth!"

"C'mon," Daryl said, tugging you back from the road and away from the walker's grouping. "Well, find her."

You walked after that car for miles until your feet couldn't take it, and you collapsed. Daryl wanted to drop beside you, but he couldn't.

That was when the real test of being back out in the world came. These men that Daryl didn't want to join but did anyway made your skin crawl. The way they looked at you, the way they wanted you, it made you sick. Daryl quickly understood the rules, realizing I got no say in anything in this group and was merely seen as an item for the taking.

"She's mine," He said, causing the boys upfront to look back at the two of you. You were behind Daryl, per his request. "Aint no one touching her."

"Boss! He can't do that," one yelled.

"Rules are rules," the boss said, "She's his."

Still didn't stop looking or not sleeping. Daryl noticed it; of course, he did.

There was one man both of you knew who didn't care about the rules. One night in particular proved this to Daryl and the rest of the men. He had left you no longer than a few minutes in a different direction than you out in the woods when the man sprung on you. You tried to grab your knife, but he was already prepared to stop you. You were helpless as he tried to get his way with you.

"Don't scream now," he said, with his hand over your mouth, suppressing any screams you tried to get out. You started hitting him, making him yell back in pain from it. "Crazy bitch” he said, slapping you.

"Daryl!" you yelled, scrambling to get up. The man behind you grabbed your leg, making you fall to the ground. "Daryl!" you screamed again, knowing that was your last attempt at calling for the archer. Your breath was completely knocked out of you. You heard fast-moving, crunching footsteps as the man tried to turn you over, and then, nothing. You turned, seeing an arrow between his eyes and the man falling back. You scrambled away, trying to catch your breath as Daryl jumped to hold you.

"I'm sorry," he said into your hair as you held onto him, too shoved to say a word. The world became quiet in his arms.

On the run:

The road to salvation was long. The group had been walking for days; hope was dwindling. You lagged, not having much energy for things anymore. Daryl is always stuck by your side, never leaving the comfort of your space. He had been quiet for a while, keeping his thoughts locked away. You stopped walking, alerting Daryl but not the others.

"Hey?" he asked, looking back at you and watching him.

"somethings wrong with you, and you won't tell me," you told him, matter a fact. "I know there is."

'aint nothin'"

"Nothing? Really? You haven't left my side since the…¦," you said, drifting off, not wanting to mention the near attack you had. "Since you know when I feel like I can't breathe without you worrying."

"I.."

"What is wrong?" you pressed; Maggie had seen that you had stopped and told the others to slow the pace a bit. You knew she probably understood that what was happening with the two of you needed to be talked about away from the group, so she kept them moving slowly. "I can't stand to see ya hurt anymore," he told me, knowing somethin' was on his mind. "I can't stand thinkin' somethin' happen if i leave ya"

"Daryl, that's not your responsibility," you said.

"maybe it should be," Daryl said.

"What?"

"I care about you a lot" he said, looking down, "I love ya"

The world stopped when he said those words, something he had never even said to Carol or Rick, ever or often. You took his hands in yours, making him look at you.

"I have loved you since we were on that mountain in Atlanta," you told him, "I have always loved you."

"ya have?"

"How could I not, Daryl?" you said; he smiled a bit, something you had not seen in a very long time.

"You my woman now," he told you, "you've been mine since I told those men you were."

"I'll always be yours; you never have to worry about that."

Extra:

Alexandria: (years later)

"How long have I been an idiot?" Daryl asked Carol. They were both lounging on the porch in Alexandria, watching you chase after a little brown-haired girl. She was only two, but she had spirit. You were smiling so big that Daryl felt like his heart was melting.

"You've been an idiot for as long as she's been in love with you

ain't helping" Daryl said, shoving Carol a bit.

"I think you started falling for her when we were in Prison"

"yea…your right"

"You were stubborn to let yourself feel until you almost lost her," Carol said. Daryl nodded, not wanting to admit that it took a life-or-death situation for him to truly know he couldn't ever lose you.

[arcielee]

All the wild hearted ambition

Summary: The semester is ending and you decide to act on the undeniable chemistry you share with Aegon Targaryen. Paring: modern!Aegon Targaryen x you Word Count: 1.8+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, alcohol consumption for liquid courage, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie but it's okay since every Reader has a IUD Author’s Note: Modern Aegon will always have a soft spot in my heart. I wanted to do some smutty fluff to celebrate my darling @aemondtargaryenonlyfans latest milestone! I apologize for this being so belated, as I am sure it has probably doubled by now. 😆 Thank you @sylasthegrim for being my beloved beta reader, Ilysm. 💜 And shoutout to my Aegon Expert™ Miss Maggie @inthedayswhenlandswerefew for some insight on his alcoholic vice. Title comes from the song Romy by Sleep Walking Animals 💜

Aegon was handsome in his effortless way–somehow perpetually sunkissed no matter the weather outside, and wearing a mirthful grin that had him aglow. His eyes were able to spot you in the crowd that swarmed around him, a centripetal pull towards his charisma that thrummed loudly from within. 

They were all moths drawn to his flame, fluttering with their desperation to touch. You pushed through them, determined to be burned. 

You could see the mischief sparkling in the murky blue of his eyes, the corners crinkling as he watched you move closer. His hand reached to engulf your own, pulling you in. 

The chemistry you two shared was something palpable, a back-and-forth banter that remained consistent throughout the semester, building towards this moment. His teasing pravity had a friendly tone, and you always had a smirk playing on your lips as you listened to his lewd promises. It ended the same way–Aegon would beg to take you out, but you were well aware of his reputation on campus and held no interest in becoming just another conquest of his. 

And when you told him just that, he laughed. 

You are different, he had sworn to you. I would take you to breakfast the next morning. 

Your eyes rolled in response, but you always remained within his arm’s reach, testing your self-control and the strength of your barriers built to keep him at bay. 

But on this night, you tore them down. 

To be kissed by Aegon was to be consumed by him. His large hands were everywhere: biting into your hip to bring you closer, wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled the air from your lungs. He was solid as he pressed against you, pinning you to the wall; you could taste the rum and spice and cinnamon when you licked his lips, you could feel the heat pouring from him and warming your blood. 

Your head was buzzing, your desperation clawing from your fingertips to pull him until he melded against you. Aegon placed his arms on both sides, caging you against the wall; his mouth trailed from your lips to your jawline, his teeth nipping at your neck. You lifted your leg to wrap around his waist and one of his hands dropped to grab into the softness of your thigh, pressing closer to you. 

His weight was delicious. “Aegon, please,” you were breathless from his kiss, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself upright. When his lips pressed to your pulse, you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I-I want you.”

Aegon groaned against the curve of your neck and it rumbled to your bones, your skin raising in response. “I fucking love you begging for my cock, pretty girl.” 

“I…” you stammered to find the air for your sultry 21st century confession, “I…have an IUD.”

Aegon pulled back, his lips and cheeks flushed, his eyes dancing in the low lighting of the hallway. You could feel the warmth burning beneath your skin, but before you could say anything else, he dropped to press his shoulder against your lower abdomen. 

Your gasp was followed by your giggle as he lifted you over his shoulder, your fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to balance. You giggled again as his large hand patted your ass, his determined steps carrying you away from the noise of the end-of-the-semester party. Aegon then finally placed you on your feet in a doorway and you pulled him close to capture his mouth like he was your only option to breathe again. 

You fumbled to open the door behind you and your fingers tucked into his waistband, but he was already following after you. It was a tenacious tumble onto his bed and a desperate peel away of the layers worn before Aegon settled between your bare thighs like he always belonged there. 

He stopped, his eyes looking over you in a way that made your blood thicken. He pushed up for another kiss but this time it held a new tenderness; his lips feathered to your chin and the curve of your neck, moving to litter love bites on your chest that bloomed dark in his wake. 

You were lost in him; you mewled, canting your hips upwards for friction. You almost cried when he pulled away from you. “Please,” you pushed to your elbows to see his sheepish expression. “Aegon…”

His laughter was an exasperated exhale. “Whiskey dick,” and he paused for a moment. “Well, whiskey dick by rum.” 

Any other man would have balked with their embarrassment, but he showed how he was unlike anyone you ever met. Instead Aegon giggled, his smile stretching across his square jaw decorated with a sandy growth, beautiful and bright as always. He dipped back between your thighs to place a sloppy kiss to your clit and the gesture bolted up the length of your spine. 

He showed his devotion to see through the literary litany of the euphoria he promised over the semester, and continued until your eyelashes clumped together from your tears. Your blood was pulsing hot throughout your veins, your legs trembling and your lungs wrung empty; Aegon finally pulled away, bringing the covers over you both, reaching to pull you back against his chest and nestling against the nape of your neck with a wet kiss. 

“I’ll make this up to you, I swear it, pretty girl,” he whispered, but you were blitzed outside of your mind and body from the pleasure he pulled. You could feel his grin, his arm wrapping around your stomach, and you settled against him, allowing the low strum of his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. 

Pretty girl. The endearment echoed in your mind as the prior night rolled away like a fog, though its heady aftermath was still prickling your skin. You could feel your blood simmering to the surface as you blinked away the sleep, your eyes focusing on the mess of blond waves that are tucked back between your legs. 

You could feel it throb away from your center, a pleasureful pulse that coursed through you and crashed back into your core. You arched your back in response, savoring the intimate way his tongue was tracing against your clit. “Aegon,” you gasped out loud but it was your pitiful moan that followed that stopped his ministrations.  

He looked up at you, his eyes sparkling and blood staining his cheeks with a sheen to his wicked smile. “Good morning, pretty girl,” he said with his casual tone, his breath tickling the slick between your thighs. “Just relax. Don’t worry, I plan on making you feel really good.” 

You responded with a squeal as he playfully bit into the softness of your inner thigh, his lips moving back to lave away at your swollen bundle of nerves that were blooming from his touch. His two fingers curled within you, knuckle deep and searching to pull a ravishment that made your toes curl. It was a tensity that nearly cleaved you in half, shuddering throughout your veins; your fingers knotted into his hair, your thighs squeezing to keep him close.

But Aegon remained tethered to you, mindful of these waves. His brow furrowed with his concentration of coaxing you through your climax, and you could only melt with his deliberate touch. When it was done, you tried to find your breath again, only returning as you felt the shift of his weight on the mattress. 

Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him: his hand stroking his girth, the head flushed and glossy from your release. Aegon moved to knit himself between your legs, pressing close until his clock slipped between your swollen slit, sending another spark that seized your heart. You writhed underneath him. “Oh, fuck.”

Aegon captured your lips with a biting kiss, and you returned it with the same passion he poured into you. “You were so beautiful last night, begging for my cock,” he murmured against your skin. 

His words were heated, beckoning you, and you squirmed, canting your hips to feel the delicious pressure of the underside of his cock pressing against. “Aegon,” you gasped. You were still so raw, still splintered from your prior release, but you still pulled him to settle into the cradle of your hips. “Please, I need you.” You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, squeezing until he groaned against you.  

He moved to press a kiss to the soft divot beneath your ear, his low hum rumbling through your chest. “Yes,” his voice was low, rasped, “just like that.” Aegon shifted his weight, sinking into you and pressing deep until colors began to spark in front of your eyes. 

His hips rolled against your own with a languid pace that began to build again, stoking a warmth that spread throughout and curled back into your lower abdomen. It was a different intensity that pressed outwards, splitting your seams; your fingers fell to the dimples above his ass, desperate to pull him closer, desperate to chase this new pleasure. 

Aegon tucked his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his smile. “You take me so well,” he praised, his voice straining from the vice-like grip you held around him.

Those words erupted through you with a force that pushed you back over that ledge, a tumbling release that wrenched the air from your lungs. The fluttering of your velvet walls suctioned around him, pulling him deeper, and Aegon groaned loudly as his cock pulsed hot within you. 

He then found your lips for a slow kiss, searching to swallow the soft sounds you emitted. His head bobbed away to look down at you, his eyes bright, but bloodshot, and his smile crooked. Aegon then placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before he collapsed at your side. 

You laid on the sex soaked sheets, boneless, focusing on the careful expanse of your lungs to regain your breath again. You turned your head to look at Aegon, flushed pink and still grinning at you. A heartbeat passed and he moved suddenly to kiss you again, sloppy and wet, and then he pushed from the bed onto unsteady feet. 

You rolled to your side, grabbing to cover yourself as you watched him struggle to pull on a pair of jeans. His large palm was flat to carefully tuck himself before pulling up the zipper.

You felt a surge of emotions: an initial panic, your embarrassment and failure at becoming just another one of his conquests. “Where are you going?” You dared ask, praying your voice remained steady and would not betray what was coiling behind your heart.

Aegon looked at you and you could see the satisfaction playing on his handsome features. His smile remained. “Did you forget?” He moved back to the bed, kneeling on the edge for another quick kiss that left you warm. “I told you that I was going to take you to breakfast afterwards.”

taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii @zaldritzosrose @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @abecerra6111 @multyfangirl @itbmojojoejo @namelesslosers @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent @darkenchantress @dixie-elocin @troublesomesnitch

modern!Aegon masterlist || navi

[luvzshy]

heyyy welcome backkkkkk and congrats on the gf 🤍, may I please request a fic. okay billie comes back home with maggie so she can visit the new born baby but when she opens the door she finds reader crying along with the baby because she's stressed and feels like the baby hates her

Cradle My Heart

Word Count: ~700

Summary: When Billie brings her mom Maggie over to visit the baby, she’s greeted by a heart-wrenching sight: you sitting on the couch, overwhelmed and crying alongside your newborn. Feeling like you’re failing as a mom, you’re convinced the baby hates you. Billie steps in to reassure you, offering comfort, love, and the reminder that you’re not alone in this.

The front door swung open quietly, and Billie stepped inside with Maggie following close behind, her soft laughter filling the entryway. “It’s not my fault you love holding babies so much,” Billie teased. “You’re gonna have to fight me for cuddle time.”

“I’ll win, don’t worry,” Maggie shot back with a grin.

But the playful banter faded the moment Billie froze, her heart clenching at the sound of muffled cries echoing from the living room. Her eyes darted toward you, sitting on the couch with the baby cradled in your arms, tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N?” Billie’s voice was soft but alarmed as she rushed over, her mom trailing behind her.

You looked up, your tear-filled eyes meeting Billie’s. “I—I can’t do this,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I feel like she hates me. Every time I try to soothe her, she just cries more. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

The baby’s cries matched your own despair, and Billie felt her heart break into a million pieces seeing you like this.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, kneeling in front of you and carefully placing her hands over yours. “Hey, look at me. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Maggie, sensing the intimate moment needed space, quietly slipped into the kitchen to give you two some privacy.

“But I can’t calm her down,” you said, voice cracking. “I’m her mom, Billie. I’m supposed to know what she needs, and I—” Your voice broke again as fresh tears fell. “I feel like I’m failing her.”

Billie reached out, gently brushing the tears from your cheeks. “You’re not failing her, Y/N,” she reassured firmly, her tone full of love. “You’re doing everything right. Babies cry, and sometimes there’s no easy answer. But that doesn’t mean she hates you. She loves you so much—you’re her whole world.”

You shook your head, struggling to believe her words. Billie leaned closer, her forehead resting against yours, her voice softening. “She doesn’t need you to be perfect. She just needs you to love her, and you do. That’s what matters.”

The baby’s cries began to subside, and Billie smiled softly, reaching out to take her gently from your arms. “Let me hold her for a bit, okay? You’ve been doing so much. Let me help.”

You hesitated but eventually nodded, letting Billie take over. She stood up, swaying lightly as she rocked the baby in her arms, her soft hums filling the room. “Hey, little one,” she whispered, “be nice to your mama, okay? She’s amazing, even if she doesn’t see it right now.”

You watched as the baby slowly settled in Billie’s arms, her cries turning into soft hiccups. A pang of guilt hit you, but Billie caught your gaze and shook her head.

“Don’t even start blaming yourself,” she said gently. “This is hard, Y/N. It’s the hardest thing ever, but you’re not alone. We’re in this together, okay?”

Tears welled up again, but this time they weren’t from frustration—they were from relief. You nodded, wiping your face as Billie sat down beside you, still cradling the baby. She handed her over carefully, her arms supporting yours as you held her again.

“See?” Billie whispered, her lips brushing your temple. “She’s calm now. She knows you’re her mama, and she loves you.”

The baby stirred in your arms, her tiny fingers curling around yours. You let out a shaky breath, finally feeling a flicker of confidence return.

“Thank you,” you murmured to Billie, leaning into her.

“Always,” she replied, wrapping an arm around you both.

From the kitchen, Maggie peeked around the corner with a proud smile on her face, deciding to give the little family a bit more time before joining in.

[moralesluvr]

Hey! So this is like a goofy requested like idek. So basically I've been watching coming home videos of people in the army and don't even ask why lmao but everytime they make my heart burst! 😭

It gave me the idea of a billie x reader fanfic. The reader is in the army and has been away for a few months now. We told billie we aren't going to be home as soon as we thought, and of course billie is really upset, but what she doesn't know is that actually we are coming home early to surprise her! Her family is in on it and helps us surprise her, and she gives us the most adorable reaction possible.

Sorry if this sounds stupid. In my head, this sounds alot lot better, I promise 😭

anon i love this idea, thank you for your request !!

SWEET RETURN | b. eilish.

you could hear the laced disappointment in billie’s voice through the phone, even though she was trying her best to mask it. the sound of her pouting made your heart shatter, though she had no idea what was coming to her, for the better.

“so… not until next month?” she asked you, her tone light, but you knew her well enough to catch the sadness hiding behind her words.

“yeah,” you replied, swallowing the lump in your throat, “things got delayed here. they need me to stay a little longer. i’m so sorry, babe. i wish i could come home earlier.”

there was silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a quiet sigh. you hear her shuffle within the covers of your bed, “it’s okay. i get it. i just… i really miss you, y’know? the house feels so empty without you. i miss my wife.”

“i know,” you said, your chest tightening at her words. you had missed her so damn badly— and your excitement to see her again was almost too much to contain. “i miss you too, so much. but i promise, as soon as i’m back, we’ll make up for all this time apart, okay?”

billie let out a small, shaky laugh. you can hear her sniffles, “okay, my love. m’getting a little sleepy, so i’ll talk to you later.”

“okay,” you said, grinning widely, even though she couldn’t see you. “only a little longer, okay? then i’ll get to see my beautiful wife.”

you can practically hear her smile through her voice, “m’kay. i know you’ve got shit to do, so i can’t be too upset. but i love you, okay? have a good night.”

“i love you too,” you said, your voice soft, honey dripping from your tone, “more than anything.”

you hang up the phone, almost unable to conceal your excitement. what billie didn’t know was that you were already on your way home, ready to see her and attack her with hugs and kisses, ready to see her surprised expression when she sees you.

────୨ৎ────

two days post phone call, you were standing in billie’s parents’ cozy living room, your heart racing as maggie smoothed over your uniform, while patrick and finneas helped finalize the plan.

“she’s going to flip!” maggie spoke softly yet excitedly, a delighted smile spreading across her face, “she’s been so down lately, my lovebug. this will make her year.”

her dad nodded in agreement. “you’ve got the flowers, right hun?”

“got them,” you said, holding up the bouquet of billie’s favorite flowers, thanks to very detailed and focused bouquet shopping with finneas. you bounced on your heels excitedly, so ready to see billie— it had been so long, and all you wanted to do was see her pretty face and wrap her in a warm embrace.

“good!” patrick replied, clapping a hand on your shoulder lightly with a smile. though he was usually more stoic, even he couldn’t keep himself together at the thought of his daughter being overflowed with joy at this surprise.

you let out a nervous laugh, adjusting your uniform for what felt like the hundredth time with a nod. you waited on the couch patiently as maggie poured you a glass of cider, you two chattering amongst yourselves as patrick and finneas watched tv.

billie thought she was coming over for a quiet and peaceful family dinner. her mom had told her it was a way to cheer her up while you were “still stuck overseas.”

she had come over about an hour after you did, and you could hear her engine being killed in the driveway, making your nerves pulse through your skin as you waited anxiously, flowers in hand.

she pushed open the door, calling out a distracted, “hello, my loves!”

maggie greeted her at the door, pulling her into a quick hug. “hey, sweetheart! come on in!— oh, and dinner’s almost ready, but we’ve got a little surprise for you first.”

billie raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the dining room. “a surprise?”

“just come see, lovebug.” maggie spoke, leading her further into the house.

you stood in the living room, hidden just around the corner. your heart pounded as you heard her voice, the sound like music to your ears after so many months apart. you wanted to jump out and hug her, but you had to keep your composure as you stayed hidden.

“okay… guys…what’s going on?” billie asked, her voice light but curious. she sounded almost a little frustrated that she couldn’t figure it out, but her eyes immediately widened as you stepped out into view, holding the bouquet in your hands and a nervous smile on your face, “hi, baby.”

billie froze, her eyes locking on you as her jaw lowered. for a moment, she didn’t move, and it looked like she wasn’t even breathing for a second.

then, all at once, she dropped everything she was holding and ran toward you.

“oh my god, oh my god!” she cried, her voice breaking as she threw her arms around your neck. “you’re here! you’re really here!”

you wrapped your arms around her, holding her as tightly as you could without crushing the flowers between you. you wrapped a loving back behind her frame, “i’m here,” you whispered, your own voice shaking. you felt tears well in the underskirts of your eyes, “i couldn’t wait any longer to see you. i think i would’ve died.”

billie pulled away from your embrace just enough to look at you, tears streaming down her face but a wide, disbelieving smile lighting up her features.

“hey… you lied to me.” her lips formed into a pout, her eyes blinking away tears as she pulled you in for a quick kiss, her lips tasting of salt and strawberry.

“i’m sorry bils, but i had to,” you said with a small laugh, shrugging your shoulders defensively, “it wouldn’t have been a surprise otherwise.”

“it’s okay, i’ll let this little one slide,” billie chucked, shaking her head as she wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie, “my god, i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more.” you whined, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

maggie, patrick, and finneas clapped and cheered from the doorway, and billie turned to glare at them, a confused expression wiped on her face, “wait— what the fuck? you guys were in on this?”

“of course we were,” finneas grinned, beaming. “i was the first person that she told— you jealous?”

“shut up.” billie rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she turned back to you, “you’re not leaving again anytime soon, are you?”

“not for a while, baby,” you promised, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “i’m staying right here with you. promise.”

billie sighed, leaning her forehead against yours. “good. because i don’t think i can do that again. ever. i love you too much.”

you laugh sweetly, pulling billie closer,

“i love you so much more.”

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