#otis angst

[logansargeantsbabymom]

None Of This Is Your Fault.

Brian "Otis" Zvonecek x Fem!Firefighter!Reader

A/N: Sorry that I've been so inactive, I know this is no excuse but I school started and my job is starting to get into it's busy season and to my luck I managed to tear my meniscus and I've been in so much pain so writing has been the least of my concerns. I am getting surgery on Thursday so I will be writing more soon. For now, please enjoy my new fic.

This is a 20 chapter story and I've put 10 chapters in one fic. It's a lot but this is my apology for being inactive.

Chapter 1:

Five years. That’s how long I’ve been with Brian. It feels like a lifetime and just a blink at the same time. We met in the most unconventional of ways—running into each other during a late-night call, both of us soaked in sweat, soot smeared across our faces, the smell of smoke thick in the air. It wasn’t the most romantic setting, but maybe that’s why it worked. There was no need for pretenses between us. We were both drawn to the fire, the adrenaline, the chaotic beauty of our work. And somehow, through the chaos, I found him.

Brian “Otis” Zvonecek—my partner in every sense of the word. He’s not the guy who sweeps you off your feet with grand gestures or sweet talk. No, Brian is the guy who shows up every single day. He’s steady. Kind. Funny in the way that only he can be, with those ridiculous puns and the way his face lights up when he thinks he’s landed a good one. It’s impossible not to laugh when he’s around, and God, that’s what I love most about him—he makes everything lighter, even when the world feels heavy.

But these days, the world is feeling a little heavier than usual.

We’ve both been working nonstop—Firehouse 51 is like a second home, though lately, it feels more like a first. There’s something comforting about the firehouse, the constant hum of activity, the sound of the trucks rumbling to life, the distant chatter of my crew—no, my family. And Brian? He’s always been at the center of it all. Our relationship bloomed in this place, surrounded by the people who understand what we go through every day.

I remember the early days with him so clearly. It started as a few casual glances across the engine bay, nothing serious at first. Just an awareness of him. His laugh was what caught me. The way he threw his head back, completely unguarded, while the rest of us were tense and wired after a tough call. He had this way of letting it all roll off his back, and I admired that.

It wasn’t long before we were partnered on every shift, making excuses to grab dinner after. One night, after a particularly tough rescue, he suggested we go for wings. I was exhausted, drained, and covered in soot, but something in his voice made me agree. I needed that—something normal, something grounding. We sat in that little corner booth, devouring spicy wings, laughing about the ridiculousness of our lives. It was simple, but it was the first time I felt like I had found something real. Something worth holding onto.

That’s how we’ve always been—just us, grounded in the simplicity of being together. No grand romantic gestures, no pressure to be anything other than who we are.

And for five years, it worked. I always felt secure with Brian. Sure, we’ve had our share of arguments—what couple doesn’t?—but they were always small, petty things. We’d bicker about who forgot to fill the gas tank or who left the towels on the floor, but those disagreements never lasted long. We were always able to laugh it off, make a joke, and move forward.

Lately, though, I’ve been different. Not us—me. I feel it deep inside, like there’s something pulling me away, pulling us apart. I don’t know why, but these past few months, things that shouldn’t bother me do. Things that used to make me laugh now irritate me. And sometimes, when the irritation boils over, I lose control in a way I never have before.

Brian doesn’t say it, but I can tell he’s worried. He’s always watching me now, his brown eyes searching for some sign that I’m still the same Y/N he fell in love with. But the truth is, I don’t feel like the same person anymore, and that scares me more than I care to admit. The outbursts come out of nowhere—sudden, violent flashes of anger—and then, just as quickly, they’re gone, like they never happened. And the worst part? I can’t remember them.

It’s terrifying.

It started small. A broken plate here, a slammed door there. I chalked it up to stress. Firefighting is a tough job, and we’re no strangers to pressure. But as the weeks turned into months, the episodes became harder to ignore. They were no longer just occasional moments of frustration—they were frequent, and sometimes, I wouldn’t even realize something was wrong until I saw the look in Brian’s eyes. That look of concern, like he didn’t know how to help me, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing. I hated that look. It made me feel like I was losing him, losing us.

But I kept telling myself it was fine. I was fine. If I just pushed through, if I worked harder, the episodes would stop. I thought if I ignored it, I could outrun it.

I was wrong.

Tonight, as I lie in bed next to Brian, listening to his soft breathing, I can’t shake the feeling that something big is coming. Something we won’t be able to ignore. I stare at the ceiling, the weight of it pressing down on me, my chest tightening. The love I have for him is overwhelming, and I don’t know how to protect it anymore.

Brian stirs beside me, his arm draping across my waist as he pulls me closer in his sleep. I close my eyes, taking in the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of him. He feels like home. But the fear of losing that—of losing him—is more than I can bear.

Tomorrow is another shift. Another 48-hour stretch. I tell myself things will get better, that I just need to push through. But deep down, I know something has to give.

And I’m terrified that when it does, it’ll be too late to save what we’ve built.

Chapter 2:

The first time it happened, I barely noticed it. Looking back, that should have been my first clue. It was such a small thing—a flash of frustration that I thought was just stress from work. We were off-duty, Brian and I, sitting at the kitchen table after a long day. We’d been talking about the usual—our shifts, the next firehouse event, Cruz’s latest terrible joke. Brian had a way of making everything feel easy. Comfortable.

But that night, something was different.

I don’t even remember what set me off. One minute, we were laughing, and the next, I felt this surge of anger bubbling up inside me. It wasn’t anything Brian said or did, not really. It was more like a wave crashing over me, completely out of my control. I felt like I was drowning in it, and the next thing I knew, I was standing over the kitchen sink, my hands trembling as I stared at the shattered remains of a glass I didn’t even remember throwing.

Brian was standing a few feet away, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock.

“Y/N… what just happened?” His voice was quiet, careful.

I blinked, trying to piece together the moment, but it was like a fog had settled over my mind. “I—I don’t know.” My voice sounded distant, unfamiliar. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, stepping forward. He placed his hand gently on my arm, his touch grounding me. “It’s okay. It was just a glass.”

But it wasn’t just the glass, and we both knew it. Something had shifted inside me, something dark and uncontrollable. And the worst part was, I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t tell Brian what was wrong because I didn’t know.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my throat tight. “I don’t know what happened.”

Brian smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine. We’re both tired. It was just a glass.”

I nodded, but as I swept up the broken shards, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had broken inside me, too. And it wasn’t going to be as easy to put back together.

Chapter 3:

Weeks passed, and the tension in the air between Brian and me seemed to grow with each passing day. It wasn’t just at home anymore—my outbursts were starting to creep into our shifts at the firehouse. It wasn’t anything major at first, just little moments where I’d snap at someone or lose my temper more easily than usual. Everyone chalked it up to the stress of the job, and I let them. It was easier than admitting something was wrong.

But inside, I could feel it building—this pressure, like a balloon swelling inside my chest, ready to burst. I thought I could handle it. I thought if I kept myself busy, if I focused on the work, I could push it down. But firefighting isn’t a job where you can afford to lose control.

I remember one call in particular. It was a standard house fire, nothing we hadn’t seen a thousand times before. The flames were manageable, but there was a lot of smoke. We went in as a team, each of us with a role, moving in sync like we always did. Brian was with me, like he usually was, our movements so familiar we didn’t even need to talk to communicate.

But something was off that day. The smoke felt heavier than usual, the heat more oppressive. My helmet felt like it was pressing down on my skull, making my head throb. I tried to push through it, focusing on the task at hand, but my mind was racing. Every sound—the crackle of flames, the muffled voices over the radio, even my own breathing in the mask—felt like it was closing in on me.

“Y/N, you good?” Brian’s voice crackled through my radio.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, though my vision was starting to blur at the edges. We were almost done, just a few more minutes. I could make it. I had to.

But then, out of nowhere, the frustration hit me. I don’t know why—it wasn’t a particularly stressful call—but something inside me snapped. I felt a surge of anger, irrational and uncontrollable. I swung my axe harder than I needed to, cutting through debris with more force than was necessary. I heard Brian call my name again, concern clear in his voice, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was too focused on the pounding in my head, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

When we finally exited the building, I ripped off my helmet and tossed it to the ground, breathing heavily. My heart was racing, my hands trembling.

“What the hell, Y/N?” Brian was at my side, his voice sharp. “You could’ve hurt yourself in there.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “You’ve been off lately. This isn’t like you.”

I turned away, not wanting to hear the concern in his voice. I didn’t want to admit that he was right—that something was wrong with me. “I told you, I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t. I knew it, and Brian knew it, too.

Chapter 4:

The firehouse had always been a place of comfort for me. It was where I felt in control, where I knew I could make a difference. But lately, even that had started to feel like a burden. My outbursts were becoming more frequent, and I could see the strain it was putting on everyone—especially Brian.

At home, things were getting harder. Brian tried to be patient, but I could see the frustration in his eyes whenever I lost my temper. He’d always been the calm one, the one who could smooth things over with a joke or a smile. But even he couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine.

We had one of our worst fights a few nights after that call. I don’t even remember what started it—something small, something stupid. But it spiraled out of control so fast. One minute, we were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and the next, I was yelling at him, accusing him of things that didn’t even make sense.

“You don’t even care about me anymore!” I shouted, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You’re always at work, or with Cruz, or doing anything but being here with me!”

Brian looked at me like I’d just slapped him. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I’m always with you! We work together, we live together—how much closer can we get?”

“That’s not what I mean!” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I didn’t care. “You’re here, but you’re not really here. You don’t look at me the same way anymore. You don’t—”

“Stop,” he cut me off, his voice calm but firm. “That’s not true, and you know it. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His words should have soothed me. They should have made me feel safe. But instead, they only made the anger flare hotter. “Then why do I feel so alone?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Brian’s face softened, and he took a step closer, reaching for my hand. “Y/N, I’m right here. You’re not alone. But something’s going on with you, and you won’t talk to me about it.”

I yanked my hand away, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I muttered for what felt like the hundredth time.

But I wasn’t. I wasn’t fine, and I was pushing him away without even meaning to. I could see it in his eyes—the worry, the frustration, the helplessness. He didn’t know how to fix this, and neither did I.

That night, we went to bed without saying another word. Brian turned his back to me, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of my own silence pressing down on me. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him I was scared, that I didn’t know what was happening to me. But the words wouldn’t come.

All I could do was lie there and wonder how much longer we could keep pretending that everything was okay.

Chapter 5:

The firehouse was unusually quiet that night. It was the kind of quiet that crept into your bones, making you restless. We were on the second day of a 48-hour shift, and exhaustion hung in the air. Normally, a shift like this didn’t faze me—adrenaline and routine kept me going. But tonight, my head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. The migraine was pounding behind my eyes, a dull, throbbing pain that no amount of coffee could fix.

I rubbed my temples, trying to will the headache away. Brian had noticed it earlier in the shift and offered me some Tylenol, but I turned him down. There was something about this headache that felt different, heavier. And I was already on edge—there was no way I wanted to dull my senses while on duty.

I kept my distance from the crew tonight, choosing to sit quietly at the kitchen table, nursing my coffee and staring blankly at the TV. Normally, I’d be laughing with the rest of them, especially Brian and Cruz, who were busy trading ridiculous jokes and stories. But I couldn’t focus on any of it. The migraine had lodged itself deep in my skull, making every sound feel like nails on a chalkboard.

I was counting down the hours. Only eight more hours of this shift. And then, finally, Brian and I could go home, grab food from the new Wingstop, and just unwind. It had been a long week, and I was craving something normal, something that would remind me of the simplicity of us. I clung to the thought of getting those wings together. It was the one thing keeping me grounded, the one thing I was looking forward to after the chaos of the last two days.

As if on cue, Brian wandered over to me, his smile easy as always, though I could see the concern lingering in his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down across from me. “How’s your head?”

I forced a small smile, though I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “Still there, but it’ll pass. Just need to get through these last few hours.”

“We’re almost done,” Brian said, his hand reaching out to gently brush mine. “And then it’s Wingstop time, right? I’m starving.”

I nodded, feeling a small flicker of relief. “Yeah, can’t wait. Been thinking about it all day.”

Brian paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Actually… about that. I just grabbed Wingstop with Cruz an hour ago. Didn’t realize you’d still want it tonight. You cool with grabbing something else?”

The words barely registered at first. They came out so casually, so matter-of-fact. But as they sank in, I felt a sharp, searing heat rise in my chest. My fingers tightened around the coffee mug in my hand as the rage swelled, unbidden and uncontrollable. I blinked, my vision blurring for a moment as my heart pounded in my ears.

“Wait, what?” I could hear the edge in my voice, sharp and venomous, even as I tried to keep it together. “You just had Wingstop? You knew we were supposed to get it together after shift.”

Brian’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden shift in my tone. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. We can still get it if you want. I’ll eat it with you, no problem.”

“No,” I snapped, the word flying out before I could stop it. “I don’t want it anymore.”

Brian frowned, confusion and concern mingling on his face. “Y/N, what’s going on? It’s just food. If you want Wingstop, we’ll get Wingstop. It’s not a big deal.”

But to me, it was a big deal. It felt like everything—the headache, the exhaustion, the tension between us—was boiling over, and this one tiny thing had pushed me over the edge. I could feel it happening, the anger building into something unstoppable, and I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“You always do this!” I shouted, my voice breaking as the room seemed to close in around me. “You say one thing and then turn around and do whatever you want! Do you even care about what I want anymore? All I wanted was this shift to end so we could finally go home and have a normal night together. But no—of course you couldn’t even wait for me to get the food we talked about!”

“Y/N,” Brian said softly, reaching out to touch my arm, “I didn’t mean—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I jerked away from him, my heart racing as the room fell silent. Everyone was staring now—Cruz, Mouch, Sylvie, Herrmann. Even Chief Boden, who had been standing by the door, was watching with furrowed brows.

I could feel my hands shaking, my vision blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. “All I wanted,” I choked out, my voice trembling, “was a little quality time with my boyfriend. But instead, I get stuck on this miserable shift with a migraine and a boyfriend who only cares about himself.”

The words hung in the air like poison, and as soon as they left my mouth, I felt something inside me shatter. My heart was pounding, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. I didn’t even recognize myself in that moment. This wasn’t me.

Brian stood there, frozen, his face pale with shock and hurt. “Y/N, I…”

But before he could say anything else, it was like a switch had flipped. The anger drained out of me as quickly as it had come, leaving me feeling hollow and confused. I blinked, wiping my tear-streaked face as I straightened my posture, suddenly aware of the silence in the room.

“Why… why am I crying?” I asked, my voice soft, bewildered. I looked around at everyone’s faces—confusion, concern, shock—all eyes on me. The pressure in my head eased slightly, the migraine fading as quickly as it had come.

Without another word, I turned and walked to the bathroom, the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on me like a heavy fog.

Chapter 6:

I spent a long time in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face was flushed, my eyes red from crying, but it wasn’t the physical exhaustion that scared me. It was the blank space in my mind, the way the anger had flared so hot and fast, only to disappear without a trace. I didn’t remember half of what I’d said, and what I did remember felt like it had come from someone else’s mouth, not mine.

I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turned white. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but it was getting worse. And I was terrified.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, I saw Brian waiting for me by the door. His face was etched with worry, but his voice was calm and steady when he spoke. “Chief wants to see us in his office.”

My stomach dropped. I nodded silently and followed him down the hall, my footsteps heavy, my heart pounding in my chest. Chief Boden rarely called anyone into his office unless it was serious. And this? This was definitely serious.

When we stepped into the office, Chief was sitting behind his desk, his expression unreadable. He gestured for us to sit, and the tension in the room was thick as we did. Brian sat next to me, close but not touching, his hands resting tensely in his lap.

“Y/N,” Chief Boden began, his deep voice gentle but firm. “Brian explained what’s been going on with you lately. I need you to listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”

I nodded, my throat tight.

“I’ve seen my share of stress in this job. I’ve seen how it can affect people—physically, mentally, emotionally. But what happened out there today wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t safe. For you or for anyone else. You’ve been one of the best firefighters on this team, but I can’t have you putting yourself or others at risk.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me like a cold blanket.

“I’m not asking,” Chief continued, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’m ordering you to go to Chicago Med. You’re not coming back on shift until the doctors clear you.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Chief, I—”

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said, his voice softening but still firm. “You need to get checked out. Something’s going on, and you can’t ignore it anymore.”

I felt Brian’s hand brush against mine, a silent show of support, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t face the disappointment in his eyes. All I could do was nod again, feeling a wave of helplessness crash over me.

“Take the rest of the day,” Chief said. “Go to Med. We’ll be here for whatever you need, but you’re not coming back until you get answers.”

Brian stood up, helping me to my feet as we left the office in silence. I could barely process what had just happened—how quickly everything had spiraled out of control. As we walked out of the firehouse and towards the car

Chapter 7:

The ride to Chicago Med was eerily quiet. Brian drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight, his gaze focused on the road. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, my mind a blur of confusion, guilt, and fear. Every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull, but it wasn’t just the migraine anymore—it was the uncertainty gnawing at my insides. Something was wrong with me. Deep down, I knew that now. But the thought of facing it, of having a doctor tell me what was happening… I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

Brian didn’t say much during the drive, and I was grateful for that. I wasn’t sure what I would have said if he’d asked me how I was feeling. How was I supposed to explain the emptiness inside me, the way I felt like a stranger in my own body?

As we pulled into the parking lot of Chicago Med, Brian finally spoke, his voice soft but steady. “I’m coming in with you.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to argue. I didn’t want to do this alone. I didn’t want to walk into that hospital and face whatever it was that had been slowly unraveling me. And as much as I hated feeling vulnerable, I needed him with me.

The bright lights of the hospital stung my eyes as we walked through the automatic doors, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting me like a wall. Brian led the way, his hand resting on the small of my back, guiding me through the bustling halls. We didn’t have to wait long before we were ushered into an exam room by a nurse, who took my vitals and asked the standard questions.

Then, there was more waiting.

I sat on the exam table, swinging my legs back and forth, my hands folded tightly in my lap. Brian stood next to me, close enough that our arms brushed every now and then, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough—steady, calming, even though I knew he was as scared as I was.

After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, and Dr. Will Halstead walked in. I knew him well—he’d treated me a few times before, and he was a friend of ours outside of work. But today, he didn’t greet me with the usual smile or lighthearted joke. His expression was serious, concerned.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, glancing between me and Brian as he took a seat on the stool across from us. “I hear you’ve been having some… unusual symptoms.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Will frowned, his brow furrowing as he flipped through my chart. “Brian filled me in on what’s been going on. The headaches, the mood swings, the memory loss… we’re going to run a few tests to get a clearer picture. I know it’s scary, but we need to figure out what’s causing all of this.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Will hesitated, and that hesitation sent a chill down my spine. “There are a few possibilities,” he said carefully, “but I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we have more information. We’re going to start with a CT scan to get a look at what’s going on inside your brain.”

Inside my brain.

The words echoed in my head, sending a fresh wave of panic through me. I glanced at Brian, who was watching me closely, his expression unreadable. He reached out, taking my hand in his, and I squeezed it tightly, my pulse racing beneath my skin.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter 8:

The waiting was the worst part.

After the CT scan, they sent me back to the exam room to wait while the results were processed. Every second that ticked by felt like an hour. I sat there, nervously tapping my foot on the floor, while Brian paced back and forth in front of me. His anxiety was palpable, and it mirrored the panic building in my chest. I didn’t know what was worse—the not knowing, or the fear of what we were about to find out.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Will came back into the room, holding a manila folder in his hand. His expression was serious—too serious. My stomach twisted into knots as I watched him sit down again, the air between us heavy with tension.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice low, “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. The CT scan showed something concerning.”

I felt Brian’s hand tighten around mine, his grip almost painfully strong. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, my heart pounding in my ears. “What is it?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Will took a deep breath, his eyes soft with sympathy. “You have a tumor in your brain. It’s located in the frontal lobe, which explains the mood swings and memory lapses you’ve been experiencing. It’s putting pressure on the surrounding areas, which is likely causing the migraines as well.”

A tumor. The word hit me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs. I stared at Will, uncomprehending, as if he’d just spoken a foreign language.

A tumor. In my brain.

I felt the world tilt beneath me, everything spinning out of control. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was suddenly aware of every sound, every breath, every sensation. Brian’s hand in mine, Will’s steady gaze, the sterile scent of the hospital—all of it felt too real, too overwhelming.

“I—I don’t understand,” I stammered, shaking my head. “A tumor? How…?”

Will nodded gently, leaning forward, his tone careful but honest. “It’s a lot to process, I know. But the good news is that we caught it early. It’s operable, which means we can remove it. We’re going to need to schedule surgery as soon as possible.”

Surgery. Tumor. The words swirled in my head, but none of them made sense. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was healthy. I was a firefighter—I fought through flames, saved lives. I wasn’t supposed to be the one lying in a hospital bed, waiting for a doctor to cut into my skull.

I felt my hands start to tremble, and suddenly, the weight of everything came crashing down on me. The months of mood swings, the fights with Brian, the outbursts I couldn’t control—it all made sense now. There was a tumor inside me, something foreign and dangerous, controlling me from the inside out.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the tears started to fall. “Brian… I’m so sorry.”

Brian’s arms were around me in an instant, pulling me close as I sobbed into his chest. “No,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. None of this is your fault.”

“But I—” I tried to speak, but the words were lost in the sobs that shook my body. All the anger, the fear, the guilt—I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I’ve been awful to you. I didn’t know…”

Brian held me tighter, his hand running through my hair as he pressed his cheek to the top of my head. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “None of it matters. We’re going to get through this. You’re going to be okay.”

I wanted to believe him, but all I could think about was the word that Will had said: tumor.

Chapter 9:

We left Chicago Med in a daze. The world outside felt too normal, too calm, compared to the storm raging inside me. The sky was still a brilliant blue, people walked down the street, completely oblivious to the fact that my life had just been turned upside down. Brian drove in silence, his hand resting on mine, squeezing gently every so often as if he was reminding himself I was still there. I couldn’t get the word out of my head—tumor.

It felt like some terrible nightmare, one that I hadn’t woken up from yet. Except this wasn’t a nightmare. This was real, and no amount of blinking or pinching myself would make it go away.

We pulled into the firehouse parking lot. I didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to face the crew and see their reactions when they found out. But we had to. They were my family—they deserved to know.

As soon as we stepped inside, I could feel the weight of everyone’s stares. They knew something was wrong. Cruz and Mouch were sitting on the couch, glancing at us with concern. Herrmann, sitting at the table, stood up as soon as he saw us, his brow furrowed.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice cautious.

I looked at Brian, but the words got stuck in my throat. How was I supposed to tell them? How was I supposed to explain that everything I’d been through over the past few months wasn’t just stress or exhaustion, but something far more terrifying?

Brian took a deep breath, his voice low and steady. “We went to Chicago Med. Will Halstead ran some tests on Y/N.” He paused, his grip on my hand tightening. “They found a tumor. In her brain.”

The room went silent.

It was like the air had been sucked out of the firehouse. I could see the shock ripple across their faces, the confusion, the fear. Cruz’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Boden stepped forward, his eyes filled with quiet understanding.

“A tumor?” Herrmann repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does that mean? Is it… is it serious?”

I took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. “It’s operable,” I said, the words sounding distant, as if someone else were speaking them. “They’re scheduling the surgery soon. I’ll… I’ll be okay. That’s what Will said.”

But as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The fear gnawed at my insides, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. How could I be sure everything would be okay when nothing felt okay right now?

There was a long, heavy pause before Boden spoke. “We’re going to be here for you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and full of quiet authority. “Whatever you need—whether it’s before, during, or after the surgery—you’re not going through this alone.”

The words should have brought me comfort, but instead, they only made the knot in my chest tighten. I didn’t want to be the one who needed help. I didn’t want to be the one who was weak, who was sick. I was a firefighter. I was supposed to be strong, to take care of others. Not the other way around.

But now, everything had changed.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The sobs broke through, my chest heaving as I tried to breathe, to speak. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

Boden stepped closer, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly.

But I did. I was sorry for everything—for the outbursts, for the way I’d lashed out at Brian, for the times I’d scared the crew with my unpredictability. I felt like I was falling apart, unraveling at the seams, and I couldn’t stop it.

Brian pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as the tears streamed down my face. I felt everyone’s eyes on us, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t hold anything back anymore. I cried for everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the guilt.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered into Brian’s chest, my voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be this person. I don’t know how to… how to be weak.”

Brian’s voice cracked as he held me even closer. “You’re not weak,” he whispered fiercely. “You’ve never been weak, Y/N. You’re the strongest person I know. And you don’t have to go through this alone. We’re all here for you—for whatever you need.”

I shook my head, pulling back just enough to look up at him, my eyes red and swollen. “But I’ve been so awful to you. I pushed you away. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I—”

“Stop,” he cut me off, his voice thick with emotion. “None of that matters now. None of it. You were scared, and you didn’t know why. But we know now. And we’re going to fix it. Together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly to believe that everything would be okay. But the fear was still there, lurking in the background, whispering that things might never be the same again.

The crew stepped forward one by one, each offering words of support, hugs, and quiet reassurances. It was overwhelming—feeling so much love and care when all I felt inside was fear. I wanted to tell them how much it meant to me, how grateful I was, but the words got stuck in my throat.

Finally, Boden spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. “You need to rest, Y/N. Go home, get some sleep, and prepare for the surgery. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep with everything swirling inside me. But I appreciated the sentiment. I appreciated all of them.

Brian took my hand, and we started to leave. As we walked out of the firehouse, I looked back at the crew—my family—standing there, watching us with worried eyes. They believed in me. They believed I could get through this.

I just wished I could believe it too.

Chapter 10:

The night before the surgery was the longest night of my life.

Brian and I went back to our apartment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between us wasn’t filled with tension or misunderstanding. It was just… heavy. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do but wait. I could see the worry etched into Brian’s face every time I caught him glancing at me. He tried to hide it, but I knew him too well.

We made dinner, but I could barely eat. The thought of surgery, of having someone cut into my brain, was too much to bear. I pushed the food around on my plate, my stomach churning with anxiety.

Brian eventually took my hand, pulling me into the living room. We sat on the couch, and I rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes as he gently stroked my hair. His touch was soothing, grounding me when my mind started to spiral.

“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Brian whispered back, his voice soft and full of love. “I’m scared too. But you’re going to get through this. We’re going to get through this.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hold onto his words like a lifeline. But the fear, the uncertainty—it was all-consuming. I couldn’t shake the thought that something could go wrong, that I might not wake up after the surgery, that everything could change in a matter of hours.

“What if…” I started, my voice trembling. “What if something happens? What if I’m not the same after?”

Brian’s hand stilled in my hair, and he pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were filled with so much love, so much emotion, that it took my breath away.

“No matter what happens,” he said softly, “I’m here. I love you, Y/N. Nothing’s going to change that.”

The tears welled up again, and I blinked them away, trying to stay strong. But Brian’s words broke something inside me, and before I knew it, I was sobbing, my whole body shaking as I clung to him.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” I cried. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Brian whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You won’t lose me. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. We’ll face whatever comes next together.”

I buried my face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his arms around me, and for the first time that night, I allowed myself to believe him.

[whump-galaxy]

“How did you survive out there for so long?”

“There was someone taking care of me. Without them, I wouldn’t have.”

[nachotrash]

Leopold x PersonalGuard!Reader

A/N: finished this in 4 days based on this thread with the lovely @rosenclaws. Now I have 23 tabs open with Victorian era customs and etiquette and other facts (half of which I didnt even use) so yippieee. Haven't written since august so I'm a lil rusty bear with me lol

Tags: Violence, blood, reader gets injured, Lord Millard, Otis is your dad, the angst is not as angsty as I'd like it to be--might write a seperate drabble based on purely the angst, laundanum (opium) as a painkiller mention, Leo being whipped for you

Wordcount: 3k

“Your Grace? The carriage is ready.”

Leopold nodded, turning back to the richly dressed woman in front of him with a polite smile. “Well, I’m afraid that we will have to cut our time short, Lady Isabelle. It was an honor to be in your radiance tonight. I wish you the best.”

He kissed her hand with a short bow, leaving the hostess giggling before he followed his escort to the carriage at the front gates.

“‘Your radiance’? That’s bardic, even for you.” You commented with a grin, one that only grows wider as he looks you up and down. We’re it any earlier, he’d have replied with more banter.

“Tired?” You open the carriage door for him.

“I am.” He breathes, sinking into the velvet cushions of the cart. You climb onto the perch up front with an understanding hum.

“Try to get some sleep then,” you advised. “It will be just you and me for about 4 to 5 hours if everything goes well. Don’t be alarmed, I won’t be disruptive.”

——

Everything did not go well.

They were maybe an hour or two away from home, the forest seemingly endless while engulfed in the nightly abyss. Leopold had long dozed off to the sound of the horses hooves clip-clopping against the dirt road when he was suddenly awoken by someone knocking on the very window he was leaning on. It was you.

He was immediately wide awake once he recognizes the knocking pattern.

tok tok tok… pause… tok tok

This was the code you two had agreed upon in case you weren’t able to verbally communicate due to possible danger. It was merely just meant to alert the other and you never really thought that you’d need it, but here you are.

Your heartbeat quickened while your gut churned in uneasiness. Something was wrong. Something had changed in the ambiance around them. Someone else is with you in the forest and they don’t seem friendly.

You kept riding, keeping the same pace as you did before. There is no way you could give yourself away. It would be too dangerous.

Just as they were starting to near the edge of the forest and into town, as you were about to sigh in relief, a lanky man leaped out of the bushes in front of your horse. You remain quiet.

“Excuse me, sir? We would like to pass through, thank you.”

He grinned in such a way that made your skin itch. “Sorry sweetheart. Nobody is going past this point any time soon.”

He pulls his sword, and so do you as you hop off the horse. Your gun is tucked safely in your coat, only to be used in emergencies.

The moment your boots hit the ground he lunges at you. You barely managed to parry it before he throws… sand? In your eyes. You stagger back, groaning as you furiously wipe away the sand and try to find him.

He was beside you, grinning creepily before it’s replaced with a yell in pain, blood oozing out from where you had just struck him.

With a furious roar, he charged at you once again, swords beating against eachothers as you each try to take the other out.

You glance back at the carriage every so often, just to make sure that Leopold is okay, until your eyes widen at the sight of him struggling against two more abductors. You knew that Leopold could stand his own ground if he needed, but he’s still no match against two more experienced men. You had to help him.

You thrust the other’s sword to the side, spinning around to get to Leopold when something crashed into the back of your skull. Your vision flickers, going black completely before it returns.

You look around, heart and head pounding.

6 more people have joined the fight. There is no way you can fight them off. You’re gonna have to make a run for it.

BANG BANG

The two men trying to drag Leopold out of the carriage drop limply onto the ground, who now stared at you in pure shock. For a moment, the world went quiet.

Then the adrenaline rushes past your ear again. You parry a strike from the guy behind you and shove your gun back into your coat, motioning for Leopold to grab the horse.

“Leo! We’re going! Get on the horse!”

He nods, sprinting to the now panicked animal with you right behind him. You cut off the leashes tying the horse to the cart with one swing of your sword and just like that you were gone.

You rode in silence for a bit as both of you caught your breath. There is no time to waste though, who knows what else may be waiting for you?

“Your Grace, are you hurt? Where have they injured you?” You ask without looking up, making sure the horse was galloping as long as he can. You’d giggle internally at how Leopolds arms tighten around you with every jolt of the horse, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down now.

“I-I’m… i’m alright. What about you? You were the one actually fighting..” he panted, concern rolling off his words in waves.

“I’m good. Just a cut to the calf and upper arm. Nothing serious.” You replied curtly. Your entire body burned and your head was pounding, but that’s normal with these levels of exhaustion.

——

The sun was already rising as you finally arrived at the estate. The horse was soon taken away by Otis, who appeared at the front gate when he heard the clipping of hooves against pavement approaching.

Exhaustion rolls off your backs once you finally step into the main hall. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, the pain from your injuries slams into you at full force. You stagger, clutching your pounding head while your vision flickers. For a split second, everything goes dark. You feel yourself falling.

Leopold breath hitches as he sees you slump to the floor. He’s by your side in an instant.

“Where are you hurt? Come on, hey..!”

To prevent you from hitting your head in the tiled floor, he reaches down to hold it up.

His stomach drop as his hands meet something sticky.

Blood.

Now that he gets a chance to look at you properly, he realized just how bad in shape you are. Blood seeped through the navy fabric of your coat, smudging onto the cold tiles as you writhed in pain.

He had to help you.

Your body jerked as you feel two arms wrap around your waist and knees and hoist you up, the sudden change in friction causing pain to shoot through your body.

Everything around you happens as if it took place in another room. Somebody was talking to you, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. All you knew was that whoever picked you up—probably Leopold, you think— was really warm and soft. And you’re cold and tired. Some sleep won’t hurt, right?

Meanwhile, it was as if Leopold was in a completely different building instead of his house. He doesn’t remember the last time he went to the physicians himself, but lord, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he lost you because of it. He glanced down as he paced through the hall, fingers clutching your body even tighter as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“You’ll be alright. I-I promise. Just… stay with me, hang on.” He whispered, not sure if he even believed his own words.

He didn’t want this. He never wanted you to get hurt because of him.

Some part of him foolishly believed that as long as he’s around, he’d be able to protect you. That he’s be able to keep you safe instead of the other way around, no matter that you were ‘technically’ supposed to protect him.

The two of you have known eachother for longer than anyone else. He could still remember the day Otis was introduced to him, when he’d just arrived at his uncles after the death of his parents. Millard had taken the terrified boy back to his manor so he wouldn’t have to suffer more than he already had. Yet, it took him weeks to be able to sleep in his own room without crying. In an attempt make him feel less alone, Otis had brought his child with him so he could have some company of his age. And that child was you.

You two warmed up immediately. While he was often ‘disgraceful’, as per his uncle’s words, he has never once made you feel like you’re less important than him. Perhaps that’s what strengthened your silly little childhood crush on him. You’ve always been extremely aware of your difference in social status, having been reminded countless times by your father and Lord Millard throughout your childhood. Maybe that’s the reason you shook off the way Leopold would look at you when you’re strolling in his garden on a summer night. Maybe that’s why you purposefully pretended that you didn’t know from whom the letters were that appeared outside your windowsill every February. Maybe that’s why you slowly stopped calling him by ‘Leo’ and starting with ‘Your Grace’.

You feel like you can read him like a book, yet you can’t seem to be able to figure out what to do with it. On the off chance that he does feel the same, you’d be risking his wrath or even everything that he owed should Lord Millard decide to disown him for it. You couldn’t do that to him. So you held back, planning to never tell him the truth despite it slowly crawling itself up your guts.

As you two grew up, you started hanging out less and less, both being obligated to your duties. It would not be before his coming of age party that you’d be reintroduced to him, now as his personal guard. Thankfully, there was no awkward phase, and you quickly became close again.

Except… now that he’s of age, his uncle would get more and more desperate at pushing him to get a wife. You’d nod in agreement when Leopold would complain to you about it and add more snarky remarks to his vocabulary, but deep down you were crumbling. The only positive thing you can get out of this is that he seems like he doesn’t like to marry others either.

Sometimes, you’d reread the letters he wrote you when you were little, which would leave you all giddy yet leave your heart aching because you know that it’s just not possible. However, just being around him is enough.

So you made up your mind. Being no more than his friend and guard is what you’ll stay. And you’d do anything to honor that.

——

Sounds start fading back in and the first thing you notice is how heavy and sore you are. You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the light in the room as the blurriness slowly fades way.

“How is your vision?”

You turn to the side to see your father standing nearby, his tailcoat hanging off a chair.

“Ah… father..?” You croak out, surprised at the dryness of your mouth. He nods as he hands you a glass of water which you gulp down greedily, wincing at the pain from the sudden movements.

“So? How is your vision?”

“…it’s good, I think? I can see fine.” You take a deep breath.

“Father, I know that it’s not—“

To your surprise, he cuts you off.

“I know. The young master told me everything I needed to know before he… fell asleep.” He motions to the other side of your bed, where you now realize Leopold sat hunched over the white sheets. You open your mouth to speak but was shut off again.

“We’re both very aware of what I have always told you, so I will spare you it tonight.”

He turns around, grabbing his tailcoat again and putting it on.

“Oh, and dear?”

“Yes father?”

“I believe you did the best you could in this situation. I’m not upset. Just glad you’re alright. Proud of you, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was the laundanum in your blood or the exhaustion in your bones, but you feel yourself tearing up. You quickly wiped them away, smiling sincerely back at your father.

“Thank you, papa. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, I have been called to tend to His Grace, so I’ll be taking the young master with me. Try to sleep, alright?”

You nod, and he walks over to put Leopolds coat over his shoulders, causing him to jolt awake. He glanced around frantically, body physically deflating in a relieved sigh when his eyes land on you.

“Oh… thank goodness you’re awake. I… for a moment I thought..” he didn’t finish his sentence. “Since you hit your head and all and…”

“Your Grace, why are you here? I-I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it.” You added quickly “I just thought you might be in your quarters resting instead.”

Leopold stared downwards for a moment.

“Otis?”

“Yes, young master?”

“Could you please leave us some space?”

“As you wish.”

Once your father has left the room, Leopold immediately turns closer to you.

“I wish you’d told me about your injuries.”

“I apologize, your grace. I—“

“Leo.”

You blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leo. Just… call me Leo again. Please.” The whispered plea sends your heart rate up, and for a moment you had no response.

“Ah.. um.. Leo. Look, I only had one objective and that was to get you to safety. It’s all part of my job, you know?” You can’t meet his gaze, afraid you might break and spill everything.

There is a bit of silence, and you’re scared to have angered him when the next thing you feel is a warm embrace. Your breath hitches before you melt in his arms. Leopolds hands were shaking as he held you, making sure to avoid your wounds.

The comfortable silence stretches on for a while as you hug him back. It’s soon broken by another whisper.

“…Can I… tell you something?” He pulls back and you look at him with slight confusion.

“You can tell me anything?”

His eyes trail over your face, lingering on your eyes before blinking.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The world stops around you once you process what exactly came out of his mouth. In love? With you? The blood rushes to your face and you find yourself scrambling for a reply.

“…What?”

You see him hesitate for a moment, still looking back in your eyes.

“I am in love with you. Will you allow me to court you?”

He’s practically shaking with nervousness, chewing on his cheek for a moment but speaking up hastily when you still haven’t responded, staring at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Please forgive me. I-I’m aware that one should always write a formal letter to their partner prior if he wishes to court them,” the young duke started pacing back and fourth, rambling with a red face. “Worry had overcome me when I started to realize I may not see you again because you injured your head a-and I didn’t get the chance to write you anything. I know! I’ll get Otis to bring me some—“

“Leo!”

He froze at the sound of your voice. Anxiety grips his heart when he realized just how un-put-together he acted in front of the one person he’s been trying to impress all his life. But when he turns back to you, he finds you smiling up at him with glossy eyes.

“Of course I wish to enter a courtship with you. I’ve wanted to for years.”

You swear you’ve never seen him light up this much before. He practically leaps to the sit on the side of your bed and grasps your hand.

“Y-you’re sure about this?”

You nod.

He couldn’t believe it. He’s been convinced that he’s lost his chance to be together with you once you two grew older. The way you stopped calling him by his name, instead moving onto his title. Or how your smile feels slightly off when he’s telling you a joke. That little drawer in his quarters hold at the very least a dozen of nearly sent letters where he’d confess his love, but he always backed out at the last minute, because there is no way you’d reciprocate. He’s blown his chance and he’ll have to deal with that regret for the rest of his life.

But then the last 24 hours has changed his view completely. Leopold has always been scared that he’s going to have to leave you someday, not realizing that there is a chance that you might leave him instead.

Thumb absentmindedly drawing circles on your hand, his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips.

“May I…” he stops himself, feeling his face grow red again”

“May I kiss you?”

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. He smiles softly.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a clearer answer”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You may kiss me.”

Leopold wastes no time, letting go of your hand to cup your face as his lips meet yours. You’ve never kissed anyone before but you do make a mental note of how soft they are. You can feel your heart hammering against your ribs and you’re pretty sure he can feel it too with how close you are. The fingers tangled in his hair, how one of his hands slide down to your neck…

You pull back with a giggle, noticing how he chases after your lips a little with a dazed look in his eyes before he realized that you stopped kissing. You giggle again and he swears he’s about to lose his mind with how sweet you sound.

Then the exhaustion from the past 24 hours finally comes crashing down on the both of you. Leopold takes off his shoes and you scoot over as he slides under the cover next to you. He makes sure not to touch your bandages body parts as you feel his chest press up against your back and you feel all the tension leave your body.

“Didn’t your uncle need you for something?” You hummed.

“I’m sure Otis can handle it just fine without me.”

[prettysunnyday]

Hanahaki Disease: Wasted Love Part 1

Helen Otis x Reader

Warning: Fluff, sad, angst, cheating, fighting, mentions of violence, torture, death

Please enjoy...

🥀💙❤💙🥀💙❤💙🥀💙❤💙🥀💙❤💙🥀💙❤💙🥀

A quiet wind blew through the meadow that you currently laid in. Small violets and sweet bee balm grew thick on the ground. You had been sprawled out in the sun, reading a good book that caught your eye a week ago and had finally gotten ahold of. The warm day had made you feel drowsy and after a few hours of devouring the book, sleep took over your dreary senses. In no time you had closed your eyes and fallen asleep.

Your dreams were peaceful for a time until you heard distant shouting. Your dream self began running but you weren't scared. You were nearing a cliff as a voice behind you called your name. The voice sounded loud and impatient. It echoed all around you as your body began to shake. Right before you could see over the cliff's edge, your eyes opened.

Late afternoon sun greeted your (e/c) eyes. You gently rubbed your eyes and yawned. As you sat up, your book flopped onto the ground.

"Shoot!" You muttered. Now you'd have to scour the pages to find where you stopped.

"You snore you know."

You snapped your head towards the voice. A blond boy in a green graphic tee and sweat pants knelt next to you with a smirk on his narrow face. His red eyes dripped blood as he snickered in amusement.

You scowled, "No, Ben. I wouldn't know if I snored because I'm asleep."

Ben shrugged, "Yeah and you sleep heavy. It took sooo much effort to wake you up!" He exaggerated with a sigh.

You swatted his arm as you stood.

"Hey!!" He whined.

"Deserve it." You smiled to yourself as you heard Ben scramble after you. You had collected your book and headed for the mansion. "Anyway, where is your Zelda costume? I didn't know you wore other things."

Ben scoffed, "It is not a costume! It is a masterpiece. Besides, I wear other clothes, I just have preferences. Today I wanted sweats." He patted his legs to make his point.

You laughed lightly. Ben always got you giggling at something and his current antics were no exception. He noticed this and stuck his tongue out at you. You gasped in mock offense before laughing harder.

Soon the mansion came in view. You stared at the melancholy building that you dubbed home years ago. Despite it housing serial killers, you loved every inch. As you ascended the steps you turned back to Ben.

"Why did you wake me up?"

Ben smirked again. "Your manly love is coming home tonight from his mission." He said in a mock baby voice.

You ignored his incessant teasing as your thought began to spiral. Finally! After two long and seemingly endless months, Helen, your Helen, was coming home. You missed your boyfriend dearly and thought he was going to be gone a week. But that turned to two, which was three, then six and ten. You had watched the clock and counted down the days for his arrival.

"When is he coming home, Ben?" You asked.

"Tonight, doll. Helen and Puppeteer should be here and Slendy has an announcement." Ben rolled his eyes at your lack of a reaction.

You beamed at Ben as you nudged him inside. Once in doors Ben headed for the living room. You waved him bye before making it upstairs. Your room was your safe haven and decorated to your style. Beside your bed sat a photograph of you and Helen in a tree. It was taken when you first started dating. You had been looking for Helen after receiving a note to go and find him. Eventually you discovered him in the tree, sketching the mansion. You climbed up to him and he had kissed you lovingly. The picture was taken unknowingly by Ben, who gifted it to you on your birthday. Now it sat in a wooden frame painted red and blue by Helen. It was a beautiful memory and a keepsake present for you to admire.

"Soon you'll be home." You whispered.

You and Helen had met when you first became a creepypasta. He was a shy boy who loved to paint in his room. Of course the observing boy caught your attention. His beautiful eyes stared right back at yours with a hard gaze. They never left you, even after you turned away from him. His blue eyes bore into the back of your head. After several more encounters of you making light conversation and Helen listening to your every word, he finally asked you out.

It took a very long time (six months) for Helen to have mostly opened up to you. Once he adjusted to your presence he began talking. With that milestone under wraps, you realized that quiet Helen had more to say than he lead on. Not only did he talk to you in a gentle and sarcastic manner, Helen had a large vocabulary. Soon his words drew you in more than his looks and attitude. Eventually, neither of you could deny it. You were both smitten with each other, and the affection was still growing.

Now it has been three years of you being together. Well, almost because your three year anniversary was coming up in a month. This excited you beyond belief and you felt light as air when Ben told you Helen would be home soon.

You paced your room in buzzing anticipation. You still had at least a few more hours to wait, so in the meantime you decided to bathe and put on fresh smelling clothes. As warm water filled the tub, you poured lavender Epsom salts in for them to dissolve. Quickly stripping, you eagerly stepped into the soothing water. A sigh of content left your lips and quelled your excitement some. You washed your body with your favorite soaps and slowly rinsed it off. It didn't matter that it was a rather warm day, the water felt luxurious on your skin.

After a while of soaking the water was nearly cold. So you peeled yourself out of the tub and dried off with a soft towel. The fresh clothes you brought was a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy shirt with small orange flowers printed on the cotton fabric. When your hair was dry and brushed you left the bathroom to lounge on your bed.

Your intention was to look at your book and find your unmarked page then head down stairs to eat. One of those things would never happen as you ran to the bed and practically threw your body at a masked boy, who was sprawled on your bed. Despite being dressed in his signature outfit, your boyfriend looked clean of blood and grime. In fact he looked immaculate in your eyes.

"Your back Helen!" You squealed.

You landed on the boy's relaxing form. He still wore his mask, which he strated to remove, before being pummeled back into the bed. Helen wrapped his arms around your waist as you buried your face in his chest.

"I've really missed you." You snuggled as close as your body could get. Helen's chest rumbled with enthusiasm as he let out a small laugh. He ran his long, slender fingers through your hair and gently rubbed your shoulders.

"So have I, Y/N." Helen's smooth voice, which held a faint French accent, calmed your nerves. The knot of emotions tied tightly in your stomach gradually unraveled. You felt your muscles relax against Helen, who hugged you close.

"Two months is to long, Helen."

Helen petted your head, "I am here now, Y/N. No need to fret."

You laid there for what felt like a few minutes, but was actually an hour. Helen told you of what happened in those two months. He and Pup were stalking a rich guy who had valuable information Slenderman needed. They followed him through five different States and eventually cornered him in New York where they tortured information out of him. As Helen spoke, you hummed along matching your breathing to his. It looked like you could fall asleep, and maybe you would. But you were currently invested in his story and periodically asking if he had gotten hurt and if he was ok. Helen caressed your back as he nodded yes and patiently answered your many questions. Eventually your peace was broken by none other than a pleading call from your stomach.

"Helen, I'm hungary." You complained as you raised your head to look at him.

"I heard loud and clear." Helen smirked.

"Oh!" You flicked his arm as your face reddened faintly. This caused Helen to laugh and you shook your head.

"I love you, Y/N." Helen whispered.

You beamed, "I love you, too."

Helen hugged you tightly but you pulled away after a second. Helen tilted his head in confusion. You reached up and pulled his mask away.

"That is much better." You breathed through your teeth.

"Agreed." Helen cupped your face and leaned in to kiss you softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and Helen grinned. He broke away to kiss your cheek and down to your jaw. He brushed his lips on your neck before sucking on it with a sweet tenderness that made your stomach flutter. After a successful hickey bruised your skin, he licked the spot and blew on it. You shivered and felt a sudden wave of nervousness. Helen smiled at how flustered he made you before kissing your lips softly. The kiss, though chaste and short, left you breathless.

Helen leaned back to admire your face. Your heart was beating fast as you waited in anticipation. Then out of nowhere a strange gurgling noise met you ears. Instead, Helen blushed.

"Come my lovely." Helen said after a moment. He began to sit up and you followed him. "We are both evidently famished and I heard we have a meeting tonight or something."

You grasped his hand and you both left the room. You still felt light as a feather as you walked beside Helen's poised figure. His tall, lanky frame and long blue coat hid his built form and gave him a rugged and boyish appearance. Helen was stronger than he appeared and more graceful then expected.

You smiled as you descended the broad staircase and went into the kitchen. Slenderman greeted you kindly and you saw Puppeteer lounging in a chair talking to, or at least trying to, Hobo Heart. The poor guy looked ready to cry. You chuckled to yourself as you sat at the counter. Slender gave both of you a plate of fettuccini, to which you thanked him and started eating.

You weren't half way done when someone called your name. You turned to see Jane making her way over to you. She was dressed in a lovely black beaded dress and matching heels. Satin gloves without finger tips ran up to her elbows. Her luscious ebony hair graced her shoulders. Perfectly round pearls hung from her ears that matched her white skin.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she sat down beside you. Slender gave her a plate and she started eating. "So guess what Y/N." She said, irritable.

"What?" You were mildly intrigued. Jane was a good friend, but all your brain could process was how enjoyable it was to be on cloud 9.

Jane smiled sarcastically, "We have a newcomer."

You thought a moment. "That is the announcement." You said this as a statement more than a question but Jane replied anyway.

"Her name is Olive. She is a real beauty but don't underestimate her." Jane spoke with near venom as she glanced at you.

"I assume you know her?" You asked hesitantly. "What did she do?"

Jane sighed before turning to face you, "Yes, I know Olive. We were friends for a while but nevermind what happened. You are a good friend of mine and I don't want you getting to close to her. There is more to Olive than you think." While saying this, Jane looked you dead in the eyes. "Promise you won't interact with her more than necessary."

You were taken aback by Jane's attitude, but nodded. Jane sighed again before leaving. You watched her leave in surprise at her abrupt visit and departure. She hadn't even finished her food. "What a waste..." You thought before turning to speak to Helen, only to discover him gone. You shrugged and scanned the room for his piercing eyes. Upon not seeing him, you ventured into the living room.

You sat next to Ben, who was playing Mario Cart, but paused when he saw you sit beside him. He swung his feet onto your lap. At first you didn't notice because you were thinking about where Helen had gone. Ben then wrapped his legs around your waist and pulled you close. This brought your focus back. Looking down, you growled.

"Let go Ben." You glared at his smug face

"Hmm..." Ben tapped his chin. "Nah!"

Rolling your eyes you shoved his legs off, only for him to slap them back on your lap. "Ben!!" You groaned.

"Y/N!!" He mocked you.

"SLENDY!!!"

"Stop your crap Ben." Masky said as he walked through the doorway.

Ben grunted and removed his feet. You smile victoriously just for Ben to stick his tongue out at you. Masky flicked Ben's head as he sat in the rickety rocker by the t.v. Hoodie also came in and sat on the couch. He had a bowel of fettuccini in one hand and a bloody hatchet in the other.

"Why do you have Toby's hatchet?" You asked absentmindedly.

Hoodie shook his head, "Not Toby's, it is for the newcomer."

You thought about what Jane had said. She wants you to stay away from her as much as possible. You figured you would since it made her so upset, which was unlike her. The new girl was going to have a hatchet as a murder weapon. You vaguely wondered about it as you thought of Helen. He disappeared without a word, which was normal, but he just got back from a long mission. Maybe Slendy called him or he was taking a shower.

You were getting ready to go find him when Slenderman came down the stairs. Jeff was behind him with Sally on his hip. EJ took up the rear before he, Jeff, and Sally came to sit with us. Slender pulled back the curtains and looked out the window. The room was silent, even Ben stopped his game to wait for Slender to speak. Soon he unlocked the door and it swung open.

"She is here."

🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀💙🥀

Note: I will have part 2 posted soon. I apologize for any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. This is only part 1 and I promise it will get more angst as the story progresses.

Thanks for reading💐

[scully-2-mulder]

Ablaze

Synopsis: After a fire reduced her house to ashes, Stella Gibson has nowhere to live. She's almost eight months pregnant alone and she has to start everything over again. But she can count on the support of her sister and her son to help her through those hard times.

I had this idea for a very long time in my head and I finally wrote it down. I hope you’ll like and I’d be elated to have some feedbacks if you have any!

💕🔥

[dracomeir]

Since I finally drew cowboy Otis, I can finally tell you more about him along with Pico for my wild west AU. :3

Angst below like usual.

While growing up, Otis looked up to Pico as a role model. He wanted to be a charming hero like him, and spent his free time practicing with his cousin’s old revolver. He would get pointers from the ginger whenever they were at the shooting range together. The two of them were close enough that they considered each other as brothers, and they always helped each other on the ranch.

One day, Otis noticed his cousin was starting to act differently. He tried to find out why, but every time he did, the ginger would behave like he usually would. The raven haired man was starting to think he was imagining things. Maybe Pico just seemed different since he was more busy lately, and the exhaustion was making him more irritable. His cousin was the town's hero after all.

Everything changed the day Otis rushed back to the family's estate on horseback. Seeing the raging inferno before him, he looked towards the trail to see Pico with two people he never saw before. He was relieved that his cousin was okay, but that quickly turned into disbelief as he overheard what the ginger said.

"Burning this shithole down was for the best."

Otis stopped his horse in shock. "You did this?"

Pico turned to face him. "Yeah." A small group of people rode up with horses for the trio. "Took everything of value too with my gang's help."

"What?" Otis got off his horse to confront his cousin. "You're supposed to be a hero, not a villain! You're really going to pick a bunch of bandits over your own blood, brother?!"

"There's more to family than just blood, cousin."

Upon hearing the way cousin was said, Otis' hopes and dreams were shattered. Being disowned just like that made him do nothing but watch as Pico rode off into the darkness with his crew. The hero he looked up to his entire life was gone just like that. All he saw was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he shot towards his cousin as tears of frustration blurred his vision. Missing his shot, he dropped to his knees as one of the bandits took aim in the distance. If only he knew what Pico said at that moment.

"Shoot my brother, and I won't hesitate to end you."

[grudgecollector]

protective daryl is such a Must like

imagine someone’s just threatened you and he stands in front of you with one of his arms back so he can hold your hand. “you don’t talk to her” he’d growl.

after somehow sending them away he’d turn back to you and hold your face and just “you okay?” and a “i’m never gonna let anything happen to ya”

Ol' Coyote | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags: Swearing, smoking, protective Daryl, season 2 Daryl, light angst, mentions of past domestic violence

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I'm FERAL over protective Daryl YES GAHD

Something you'll never get from me is a non-southern reader in TWD fics.

I may have made things a little ooc with Shane, possibly just a tad more aggressive than he actually is with people confronting him. But it's for the plot of the fic.

Also I'm not sure if I really like how this turned out, but I think I've just been staring at the words too long. I hope you enjoy it either way <3

Tension was running high on the farm. A nervousness had settled over you in the last few days as you watched Shane. His erratic behavior was becoming unnerving to observe from the outside. His freshly shaved head glistened with sweat as he shook it, watching Lori practically stomp away from him after a heated conversation. 

This was what you were best at. Watching. Every move that was made within your eyesight didn’t go unnoticed, every twitch, every heavy sigh that came from the man. You always had a knack for catching things just before shit hit the fan. That was the only thing you were thankful for when it came to your ex boyfriend. 

The things Brian said and did to you during those four years were permanently ingrained in your mind. Always reminding you to keep your guard up around men who would view you as weak, feeble minded, helpless and in need of saving. Men with the kind of charm that draws you in, making you think they can protect you from the dangers of the world, when in reality they are the biggest threat to you. 

The almost sadistic glint in Shane’s eye. The way he’d suck on his teeth and laugh humorlessly. The way he watched her… It was starting to scare you a little. It wasn’t a fear you held for yourself, but for Lori, a woman tangled in a web that was impossible to escape from. 

It wasn’t hard to admit that you did not feel safe around the man anymore. That feeling started to dissipate after he proposed the idea to give up on the search for Carol’s missing daughter. He was losing his grip. Even more-so after his botched run with Otis. 

“You good?” Daryl asked, nudging his elbow into your side. 

He had something hanging from his fingers, the necklace he had gifted you a week ago. He followed your gaze as he clasped the necklace for you, fingertips guiding along your hairline softly before settling on your shoulder. 

“Yeah…” You replied quietly, turning your head to look at the man beside you, “Is it just me or is he losin’ his damn mind?” 

“Oh it ain’t just you, sweetheart.” He nodded towards Dale who was sitting atop the RV, occasionally glancing over towards Shane. 

The angered man was pacing back and forth, roughly rubbing at his chin. Whatever conversation he and Lori had seemed to have stirred him up pretty bad, you could practically see the smoke rolling off his shoulders. 

“He needs to get his shit together.” You shook your head, crossing your arms, “The way he acts just... Ugh.” 

“You can keep on hoping, but I think he’s lost his marbles a long time ago.” Daryl huffed, hand dropping down to your waist as he brought you a little closer. 

Daryl and you walked back over to his area away from the rest of the camp, your shared tent occasionally rustling under the wind. The fire Daryl built an hour ago was starting to go down, tiny flames licking pathetically towards the sky, failing to build itself back up. 

The sun was starting to set, pink and orange hues blending together with the darkening blue sky. Daryl settled next to you on the grass, his knee brushing against your thigh. 

These were the moments you cherished the most. Calm and peaceful in a world filled with unimaginable horrors. A chance to take a deep breath and forget about your worries for just a short period of time. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with. 

Over the last few months you had spent most of your time next to Daryl. At first he didn’t seem too fond of it, occasionally glancing your way with narrowed eyes and a suspicious attitude. Like he was waiting for you to strike, trying to stay a step ahead of your nonexistent plan to rob him blind. 

In reality you just appreciated the quiet. Away from the hustle and bustle that came with such a large group of people. You wanted to keep your distance, especially when it came to the children at the camp, trying your hardest to avoid the gut wrenching feeling that came whenever you looked at Carl. Oh how innocent and naive they were in such a heartless world. 

Eventually Daryl started to warm up to your presence. Allowing you to accompany him on hunts, teaching you the basics of tracking, and how to skin animals properly. It was easy to see through him, see past his rough edges and appreciate the moments where his kindness would shine through momentarily. 

The closeness between the two of you was something you cherished deeply. Knowing that wherever you went, he wouldn’t be far behind. 

It was moments like this that you could momentarily forget the ticking time bomb that slept just a few feet away from you. The very man in question is sitting next to Rick at the group’s shared camping area, laughing almost emotionlessly at something his best friend said. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole into his head if y’keep starin’ like that.” Daryl muttered, smiling a little bit when you halfheartedly glared at him. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, “I’m gonna head up to the house real quick, gotta use the bathroom.” 

You were quick to stand. Your fingers brushed gently through Daryl’s hair, prompting him to place a hand on the back of your calf. 

The field in front of the house was still muddy from the rain, your boots sinking in just a little with every step you made. The sound of the ground squishing beneath your feet was drowned out by laughter from the camp, Carl, Lori, and Rick huddled together in front of their own fire as they shared a can of corn. 

It made you happy to know that at least one family was able to stay together through all of this. While they may not be perfect, they were still trying to stay intact in such a hectic world, making things as normal as they could be for their child. 

“Sup lovebirds.” You greeted Glenn and Maggie as you walked up the steps to the house. Glenn rolled his eyes and gave you a tight lipped smile. He hadn’t exactly sealed the deal with Maggie just yet, the both of them tiptoeing around each other cautiously. 

“Evenin’.” Maggie smiled, nodding towards you, “Where you headed?” 

“Is it alright if I use y’alls bathroom? I promise I won’t be long.” 

Maggie tilted her head a little, “You always ask and the answers always gonna be the same.” 

You couldn't help but smile a little, “Yeah well, believe it or not my parents did teach me manners. I usually don’t like invadin’ other people’s spaces without askin’ first.” You shrugged, going to grab for the handle of the screen door. “Thanks Maggie.” 

The hinges groaned loudly as you opened it. The Greene’s home was so beautiful, a warm yellow light casting over the neatly kept rooms, picture frames of the occupying family decorated the walls. It was that sense of normalcy you had needed ever since everything started. Something reminding you that not everything had to be so terrible all the time. It made it easy to forget the reality of things. 

You walked into the bathroom and gently shut the door behind you, not bothering to glance at your reflection in the mirror. Scared of what would be staring back at you. 

By the time you opened the door again, you could hear Beth and Patricia talking in the living room. Maggie was sitting next to her sister on the couch now, Glenn must have gone back over to your group for dinner. You figured you should probably do the same thing, cook up those squirrels Daryl and you caught earlier in the morning. 

You walked back outside and unzipped the pocket to your cargo pants, a lucky find at an army supply store. The top of the crumpled red and white box flips open easily, and you pluck a half smoked cigarette out along with your lighter and begin making your trek back towards your camp. 

“Hey.” A voice stops you, Shane standing from one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

Great…

You brought the orange filter to your lips and flicked open the zippo lighter you stole from Daryl. You didn’t bother to look at the man walking towards you for more than a second, exhaling the smoke from the corner of your mouth as he got closer. 

“Can I help you with somethin’ Shane?” You asked, annoyance present in your tone.

“I don’t know, can you? Cause you seem to be starin’ an awful lot recently.” His broad shoulders rolled back a little as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“You feelin’ a little paranoid there? Intimidated by someone doing a little people watching?” 

“Don’t patronize me.” He shook his head, stepping closer towards you. 

An anxious feeling started to eat away at your stomach. You never liked when men started to close in on your personal space, even less when it was someone like Shane. The unpredictable and dangerous types. 

“I’d barely call it patronizing.” You shot back with a small shrug.. 

“You got a problem with me or somethin’? With how I’ve been handlin’ things?” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “I mean I got my fair share of issues with a lot of things, man.” He was starting to prick against your nerves, “Like you wanting to call off the search for Sophia? That was pretty fucked up.” 

“Not this shit again.” He shook his head, hands going to rest on his hips, “It’s bad enough I got to hear it from everyone else in the camp. Now I gotta hear it from the girl who’s too good to even grace us with her presence.” 

“Oh boo fucking hoo. Why is that such a big deal to you? Can’t someone just enjoy some alone time?” You scoffed, flicking off the flimsy ashes from your cigarette.

“Ain’t no such thing as alone time anymore. You gotta start contributing more to the group.” 

“Or what? You gonna boot my ass to the curb and call it a day? Seems like the kinda route you’ve been lovin’ lately.” You almost spat, an accusatory tone to your voice, “I’ve contributed plenty of my time to the group, helping Daryl with hunts and runs, making sure your bellies are full. I help wash clothes in the morning, I do daily perimeter checks with Glenn. Ain’t that enough for you?” You stepped a little closer this time, lowering your voice to harshly say, “Cause if you’re implying anything more, I ain’t doing personal tent calls like some street whore.” 

“You better watch your mouth.” His eyes were starting to get that wild look again, twitching a little when you smiled bitterly at him. 

“Did you hit your head or somethin’ when you went on that run with Otis? Is that what’s got you so fucked up? Some traumatic brain injury or some shit?” 

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, little girl? Cause I know it ain’t me.” He sized you up, chest puffed out as he got closer, but you stayed firmly planted, not allowing him to intimidate you. 

Not this time.  

“You’re fuckin’ losing it Shane, sure there ain’t many in the group that pick up on it but I sure do.” You shook your head, “All I’m sayin’ is you need to take a step back before you get someone else killed.” 

Clearly your wording made something snap within Shane. That littlest bit of self control he had disappeared, and suddenly his hands were clutching onto your biceps, blunt fingernails digging through the fabric of your shirt. 

“I ain’t getting anyone killed,” He growled out, “I keep this place safe, me. Not you, not Rick, or Daryl, Dale, none of you. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, girl, you’re barely smarter than a bag of fucking rocks. All talk and no bite.” His words punched into your harshly, he was practically snarling in your face as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were wide, fear striking through your heart as you stared at him. “Got any other smartass remarks, huh?” 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of me, man!” You thrashed in his hold, quick to bring your still lit cigarette up and pressing it against his forearm. 

He flinched away, letting you go, and for a split second you almost thought he was about to rear back and slap you. He had that same exact look in his eyes your ex would get. 

Dangerous and unpredictable.

“Hey!” You heard an angered voice growl from behind you. 

Suddenly you felt hands on you again, making you flinch. But the hold was gentle, guiding you as Daryl stepped in front of you, his shoulders heaved with each heavy breath, clearly having run over to you as quickly as he possibly could. 

“The hell you think you’re doin’, huh?! Puttin’ your hands on her like that!” He was seething, but his hand was gentle as it held onto yours, squeezing softly as a way to reassure you. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her, y’hear me?” He growled out threateningly, his hand resting on the knife secured to his belt, ready to strike at any second. “Don’t let me catch you near her again, asshole, or it’ll be hell to pay. I promise you that.” He glared at Shane, quickly turning around and guiding you past the group’s camp. 

“What the hell is going on? What’s with all the shouting?” Rick asked, catching up to the two of you. 

“Y’better get your fuckin’ boy, Rick. Ask him to explain the situation t’you.” Daryl spat, not giving him time to reply. 

You sat back down in front of the fire, staring at the yellow flames blankly. Never did you think Shane would put his hands on you like that, but the way he had talked to you, looked at you. It was too familiar, as if you were standing in front of the direct reincarnation of a man you fought so hard to forget. 

Daryl’s hands gently held your trembling ones. His index finger and thumb came up to your chin and pushed your head up so he could look into your dewy eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, he knew that look on your face all too well, having seen it in the mirror plenty of times. 

“He ever tries anything like that again, he’s a dead man.” He stated firmly.

“I thought he was gonna hit me.” You said weakly, you hated how pathetic your voice sounded.

“I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen t’you. Not while I’m still breathing.” 

The promise would be a difficult one to fulfill, you both knew that. But the words still held weight, settling deep within your heart. You would be safe with him, you knew that.

[janiehellion]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚 ⋮ 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔥

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You thought you knew Shane Walsh—a man already halfway lost at sea—but nothing could've prepared you for what happens when he's drowning in his own demons and pulls you down to hell with him.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Angst ⋮ Flashbacks ⋮ References To Death & Murder ⋮ Mirror & Shower Sex ⋮ Manhandling ⋮ Breeding ⋮ Obsession & Possessiveness ⋮ Mentions Of Violence ⋮ Dissociation

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.666 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E3 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: My very first Shane Walsh work. Was I mentally stable while writing this? Debatable. Just kidding! This was actually a Wattpad request. I'm really hoping you enjoy it, though! Feel free to drop your thoughts!

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

Shane had been acting strange since he returned. You noticed it the second he stepped back onto the farm—his shoulders stiff, his eyes wide, limping a little bit, and he was out of breath. He barely spoke, barely even looked at anyone. And when Hershel asked him about Otis, all he did was shake his head and answer a quiet "No..." before standing there, mouth open, shaking his head, and looking anywhere, just not at the man in front of him.

And as Rick stepped forward, he hugged Shane. A quiet thank you without any words. Shane barely reacted, nodding, eyes darting toward the farmhouse before stepping away like he couldn't bear to look. His voice was shaky when he spoke about what had happened—how Otis had told him to keep going, how he tried. You weren't sure if you believed him, but you knew one thing for certain.

Something was wrong.

And he wasn't telling anyone.

When Hershel went to break the news to Patricia, Shane stumbled away from the group, looking like a man about to crawl out of his skin. He leaned against the truck, mouth still slightly open, like he was still catching his breath, like the weight of whatever he'd been through was pressing down on him hard enough to crush every single bone inside his body.

You followed him.

"Shane?" You called his name gently, but he didn't react. His gaze was staring at the dirt beneath him, barely blinking, his eyes all wide.

You stepped closer. "Shane, talk to me."

His head moved slightly, but he still didn't look at you.

"You're hurt," you tried again, softer this time, letting your fingers slide along his arm. You felt the way he tensed, how he tried to flinch away from your touch. "At least let me—"

"I'm fine."

"But you don't look fine."

That got you a huff.

"Drop it."

But you didn't want to.

"No. I won't. You know that."

He finally looked at you then. Just a quick glance, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. His eyes were dark, unreadable, a storm that held back the thunder.

But it was his silence that unsettled you most. Shane was never quiet. Not like that. Even on his worst days, he'd have something to say—anger to let go of, frustration to bite down on. But now, he just looked empty. Hollow. As if whatever had happened out there was eating him up from the inside.

You didn't like it.

You didn't like the way he avoided your eyes like he couldn't stand to be seen.

When he started to walk away, you followed.

"Shane..." His back tensed at the sound of your voice, his pace quickening. "Shane, wait."

"Not now," he answered, heading for the house. "We gotta make sure Carl's okay."

You reached out, grabbing his arm before he could move any further. He froze at the contact, his body wet with sweat, and you could feel his pulse hammering beneath the skin. Too fast.

"He will be fine," you answered, trying to look into his eyes. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Let it go."

"No," you insisted. "I'm not just gonna stand here and pretend I don't see that something's wrong. Just talk to me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, but he still wouldn't look at you.

"He didn't make it," Shane finally said, his voice hoarse.

You blinked, already knowing who he was referring to. "Otis?"

A quick nod was all he gave you. Nothing more.

You hadn't known the man well, but you knew enough. Knew that he'd gone with Shane to get the medical supplies, that he had a wife here on the farm who would be waiting for him to return.

You loosened your grip on Shane's arm, but you didn't let go. "I'm sorry," you answered, though the words felt small. Unimportant.

Shane inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling just as slowly. "Yeah."

It wasn't an acknowledgment. It wasn't anything at all.

"Look, just—" You hesitated, searching his face for something, anything, that might tell you what was going on behind those eyes. "Just come inside, okay? Get cleaned up, get some rest."

He pulled his arm away—not rough, not aggressive, just final. "Already on it."

You followed him as he made his way inside, and after quickly checking up on Carl, Maggie handed him a set of clothes.

"The bathroom's upstairs," she said, looking at Shane, her eyes still swollen and red from crying. "I brought you some clothes."

Shane took them with only a little "thank you" in return.

"They won't fit well," Maggie added. "They were Otis'."

You watched him go in an instant after he nodded again. This wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just grief.

Something happened out there.

That thought stuck with you as you followed after him, slower this time. You weren't about to let this go—no. By the time you reached the upper level, you heard the bathroom door click shut.

Then, gathering your courage, you knocked lightly.

"Shane?"

No answer.

You knocked again. "Shane, come on."

Still nothing.

You pressed your hand to the door, waiting. You could hear the sounds of movement inside—clothes being put away, a pistol being laid down.

Then the water turned on. That was all you could hear.

"Shane, please," you tried one last time, but you already knew he wasn't going to answer.

With a frustrated sigh, you stepped back, running a hand through your hair. You hated this—the way he was shutting you out, the way he looked like he wasn't even here anymore. He had left something behind at that school, and you didn't know if he was ever going to get it back.

But this was still Shane, right? The man who never backed down from a fight, who always looked like he could take on the new world. And yet, this afternoon, he had walked away from you. That alone told you enough.

"I just… I just wanna know you're okay. I'm coming in now."

Frowning, you reached for the handle, turning it slowly. The door wasn't locked. It creaked open, and the rush of warm, wet air hit you instantly. Your eyes landed on Shane's reflection in the fogged-up mirror. He was standing at the sink, shirtless, head bowed slightly, and his hands gripped the edges of the porcelain like he needed it to hold himself up.

Then, he moved.

One hand brushed over his scalp, his fingers running through his hair—and that's when you saw it. The red patch where something had been torn out. A bald and uneven spot.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Shane, hey, let me—"

He turned around before you could finish, his eyes angry and wild. His chest rose and fell fast, like he'd been caught in the middle of something he wasn't ready to share.

"You shouldn't be in here."

You hesitated, then stepped fully inside anyway. "And you shouldn't be acting like this," you shot back, closing the door behind you.

"I'm okay."

"Bullshit."

Turning back to the mirror, his fingers tapped several times against the sink before he reached for something in a drawer—a razor. He turned it on without another word, shearing off his hair as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on his reflection the entire time.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. "Hey… What happened out there?"

The razor stopped for half a second, his hand tightening around it. Then he continued, shaving off the last of his hair.

"I survived," he finally said. "Saved Carl."

But when you looked at him, you weren't sure if that was the whole truth.

Once he was done, he still hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. Just stared at you through the mirror now, his expression unreadable.

"Shane?"

You took a careful step forward, and for the first time, you saw just how banged up he was. Bruises, fresh and ugly. Scratches covered his knuckles like he'd torn them open on something—or someone. And then there was still the bald spot.

It hadn't been cut; you knew that. It had been ripped out.

You swallowed, stepping closer.

"You know what happened," he then said. "I told y'all already."

"No." You tilted your head, eyes scanning his reflection. "You told Hershel. Told Rick. Lori. Maggie..."

"Same thing," he responded, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Is it?"

You hesitated before reaching out, fingers brushing lightly over one of the bruises, feeling him flinch under your touch.

"Shane," you whispered. "You're hurt."

"‘S nothing."

"It's not nothing." You frowned, moving closer, fingers trailing along the edge of the fresh bald spot. "Your hair…"

His lips parted like he was about to answer—but then he caught himself.

"Told you already," he responded again. His voice was angrier this time. "We got surrounded. We ran outta ammo. Otis said he'd cover me and told me to keep goin'. I did."

You studied him. His body language. His breathing. Everything. "That's what you said earlier."

"‘Cause that's what happened."

Something in his voice was off. The words were steady, but they seemed controlled. Too controlled.

"Otis pulled you up when you fell?" You asked carefully. "You said he wouldn't leave you behind?"

Shane's jaw twitched. "Yeah."

"And then he saved you?"

"He did what he had to do."

You narrowed your eyes. "Or what you had to do?"

Shane's eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Then, slowly, he turned. Face-to-face now, not just reflections.

"What are you askin' me?" He asked back, his voice quieter now. Rougher.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Ain't nothin' to understand," he scoffed, shaking his head.

But you weren't so sure about that.

You had seen Shane lie before. Had seen the way his gaze looked away, avoiding any eye contact, the way his jaw clenched, the way his muscles tensed when he was trying too hard to keep himself in check, his fingers twitching and fumbling around.

And right now, he looked ready to snap.

"When Maggie gave you those clothes," you continued, "you… hesitated."

Shane's fingers flexed at his sides. "Yeah? So?"

"She said they were from Otis."

His jaw tightened.

"And?"

"And you looked like you were gonna be sick."

"I just watched that man get eaten alive!" He scoffed back at you. "‘Scuse me for not feelin' too good about wearin' his goddamn clothes!"

That was the moment. The exact moment.

Because Shane was a lot of things—reckless, violent, unpredictable—but guilt was never something he let show. And right now? Right now, you could see it in him.

Gnawing at him. Devouring him from the inside.

"Is that all it is?" You asked softly, tilting your head.

His eyes darkened. "What else would it be?"

You didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because you felt it now—the feeling as if he was drowning and dragging you down with him. It was like he was waiting for you to say something else, to push him, to call him out.

You swallowed, looking down at the floor. "You tell me… Shane."

For a moment, he looked like he might tell you. Like the truth was right there, right on his tongue.

But then?

Then his hand moved before you could react, fingers grabbing the back of your neck, gripping just tight enough to make you gasp in shock.

"Don't," he grumbled, his voice strained. "Just—don't."

"Don't what?" You asked in return but stopped as you felt how his grip tightened, just for a second.

Then his eyes looked down—to your mouth, to your throat, feeling the way your pulse was getting faster beneath his fingers.

Shane let out a deep, long, controlled breath through his nose, and when you looked up again, it wasn't guilt you saw in his expression anymore.

It was darkness.

Every inch of you burned with a fire you couldn't put out—couldn't escape.

And you couldn't deny it—the pull toward him, even though you knew it wasn't about you. Not entirely. You knew that.

But you also knew, deep down, that you couldn't look away. Couldn't walk away. Not now. Not with him so close. Not when you were this close to him.

His grip tightened around your neck, but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you he was in control. In this moment, he was. His thumb moved along your jawline, his eyes following it.

You knew what had happened. You knew about Otis, about the cold, ruthless way he'd left him behind. About the betrayal—the choice he'd made because that's what Shane did. He made choices. And when they came back to haunt him, he'd just keep moving, keep fighting, keep pushing.

And you? You'd been there. Watching him. From the moment you met him at the Atlanta camp, where things were simpler. When you thought he was just another protector, another one of the good guys, looking after Lori, Carl, and the rest of the survivors.

A cop. A man of the law. A law that didn't exist anymore.

And you hadn't known. Not at first.

But you saw it after Rick showed up. The way Shane's eyes darkened every time Grimes came near. The way his fists clenched whenever Lori touched Rick, the way he looked so annoyed when Carl looked up at his father.

It was only after Rick appeared that you realized how far gone Shane was. How broken and lost he was.

But you'd always had a soft spot for him—maybe even more. He was a leader in your eyes, a protector, brave in ways that made you crave something stronger than just survival. But you had stayed in the background, never daring to get close, because you thought—no, this isn't your place and definitely not your time. In fact, you thought Lori was his, and Carl was his. That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

A family...

But that was before you realized how badly Shane was losing himself. You were right there, close enough to feel it and see it happen.

And the truth about Otis? You now knew what he'd done. You knew the truth about what happened in that school. And you knew, too, that he knew you knew.

The way Shane looked at you now, the way his lips barely parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to—it told you everything.

And you weren't sure if it was that hatred or the dangerous pull of desire in the bathroom that made you reach for him.

No, you weren't sure.

But when your hand brushed the stubble on his jaw, you knew it didn't matter anymore. His fingers were on your skin again, gripping you harder this time, his thumb sliding across your lower lip as his eyes still looked at your mouth.

You couldn't stop yourself. You wanted him too much.

And maybe that made you just as dangerous as he was.

"You know what I did," Shane growled in your ear. "You know what happened."

You didn't have to answer as he finally pressed himself against you, forcing your back against the sink, the edge of it digging into you as he kissed you hard, almost painfully. His hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, making sure you couldn't escape, couldn't pull away.

"Shane, what—"

He kissed you deeper. His teeth grazed your lip, sharp and rough. The way his body moved against yours was desperate, almost needy, like he was trying to lose himself in you, to forget. Forget about Rick. Forget about Otis. Forget about everything.

"Shut up," he grumbled against your mouth.

Before you could speak, before you could even think, his lips pressed against yours once more—hot, forceful, sloppy.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. A fast, desperate claim, his fingers now grabbing the back of your neck again, gripping hard enough to make you groan. He tasted like sweat, like fear, like something dark that had been rotting inside him since he came back from that school.

And he wasn't asking—he was taking.

Your hands moved up, instinctively pushing against his bare chest to shove him away, but his other hand grabbed at your hip, yanking you closer to him. There was no space between you, no time to catch your breath, just heat—his body burning into yours, his heartbeat hammering against you like it was trying to force its way next to yours.

You barely managed a muffled whine against his mouth, your fingers pressing harder into his chest, now trying to steady yourself, trying to get some control over the situation. But the second you made that soft, unsure sound, something in him broke.

Shane pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers tightening on your neck before moving them into your hair. His pupils were wide, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

"Don't do that," he whispered, voice wrecked and his breathing still uneven as his fingers twitched against your scalp. "Don't—don't sound like that..."

"Sound... like what?" Your voice was shaky and breathless, but he ignored the question.

Shane's mouth went to your throat, his teeth biting down just hard enough to make you suck in a shocked breath, while his stubble scratched against your skin as he sucked a mark just below your jaw. His breath came in heavy bursts like he was running.

Like he was chasing something.

"Shane—" You tried again, tried to reach for him, but then—fuck. You felt it.

Thick. Hard. Pressing against your lower belly through his pants, but your mind barely had time to process it before he growled.

Not a word. Not a warning. Just a single growl.

It sounded greedy. Like if you spoke again, if you tried to calm him down, to help him, he'd shatter.

But your mind was still trying to make sense of this, still trying to catch up to him. "Wait—Shane, what the hell—"

He didn't wait.

Shane turned you around in one quick move, his hands gripping your waist, bending you forward until you hit the sink again. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, lips swollen from his kiss, chest rising and falling in fast, uneven breaths.

You barely recognized yourself.

Your eyes—wide, glassy, uncertain.

And then there was him.

Shit...

You saw it. The look in his eyes.

Still dark. Dangerous. Gone.

His fingers dug into the waistband of your pants, and he yanked them down, dragging them a little too roughly over your thighs.

"Shane," you started once more, turning slightly, but the only response you got was the sound of his zipper.

No hesitation. No teasing. He wasn't playing with you.

He just looked... lost. Like a man breaking apart in real time.

Shane's hands slid lower, fingers moving over your naked hips, pulling you back against him, making you feel his leaking cock pressing between your thighs.

"Just—" You tried to talk to him again, your voice unsteady, but Shane's fingers tightened his grip.

A simple "No." was all he gave in return.

His fingers trembled near your waist as he lined himself up, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, keeping you steady. Keeping you there.

And when he saw the little bit of hesitation in your eyes, the uncertainty, his breath shuddered out of him.

It was all he needed.

Shane pushed into you.

Hard.

The force of it knocked the breath straight from your lungs, your mouth falling open in a choked cry. Your fingers searched for any kind of grip on the sink, nails slipping against the porcelain as your body jerked forward from the sheer strength of him.

"Fuck—!"

The word barely made it past your lips before his hands grabbed you harder—like he thought you might try to run away, like he needed to make sure you didn't.

There was nothing slow about it. Nothing soft.

Every thrust was deep, fast, and rough.

The mirror shook against the wall, rattling slightly with every movement, the glass only showing the wild look in his eyes.

And he was watching.

Watching everything.

His gaze stayed on the reflection—on you, on the way you took his cock, on the way your body trembled under him.

But he wasn't just looking at you.

He was looking at himself.

His face—miserable, paranoid, ruined.

Shane saw it… He remembered.

Otis' hand clawing at his hair.

The gunshot, the way the man's eyes were going wide in horror.

Fingers ripping at his scalp, a chunk of his hair tearing away as he fought. As he survived.

The veins in Shane's neck pulsed, every muscle in his body flexing as he pounded into you. Gritting his teeth, he fucked you even harder.

He tried to think about how every time he saw your face, every time you let him in, it felt like he was sinking into something he couldn't control. The desperation in his movements was a sign of how he needed to own this moment and drown out every haunting thought in his mind. The things he'd done, the things he couldn't undo.

But you were still there. Still with him. And that made everything… unbearable.

A quiet cry ripped itself free from your throat as he slammed into you, brutal and fast. Your pussy clenched around his cock, your breath breaking apart.

"Shane—" Your voice was a desperate plea, a moan half-swallowed by the force of him.

His hand shot up again, fingers wrapping tight around your throat from behind, but his grip wasn't painful, wasn't cruel—but it was a warning.

Every thrust of his hips pushed your body forward, forced your breath to hitch, and forced your mind to slip deeper into this, into him.

And still—he watched.

His reflection. Like he didn't want to recognize himself.

But he did. And he hated it.

Your mind thought back to the quarry again, remembering how different he was. Not soft—he was never soft—but something close to it. Protective. The kind of man who took charge, who got things done.

You remembered the way he kept the people together after the world fell apart. How he taught them to shoot, how he made sure the fires stayed lit, how he took the night shifts when no one else would.

You'd watched from the sidelines, keeping your distance, convincing yourself that the heat and tingling feeling in your stomach whenever he spoke to you was nothing. A crush, maybe?

Nothing serious.

Nothing real.

You weren't sure when it happened that your 'crush' turned into something more, something deeper. Maybe it was the way he always looked so confident, so sure of what needed to be done. Maybe it was the way he never waited when it came to protecting the people he cared about.

Maybe it was just him.

You weren't sure if he'd ever noticed.

But now?

"You watch me, don't you?" His voice was quieter now, rougher. "Always watchin'."

"Please, just—"

"Think I ain't noticed?" He was thrusting into you harder, deep enough to make you whimper. "Think I ain't seen you lookin'?"

Your skin burned beneath his touch.

"I—"

"Nah, nah, don't go lyin' to me now." He spanked your ass, hard enough to make you stop talking. "I know you, girl. Been knowin' you since Atlanta."

With you panting, he then continued.

"I remember, alright. You sittin' by the fire, sneakin' looks when you thought I wasn't payin' attention. I remember you askin' me to teach you how to shoot. Pretendin' you didn't know how to hold a gun so I'd stand behind you, get real close."

Your breath hitched. "That's not—"

"No? Tell me I'm wrong."

You didn't. Couldn't. Because he wasn't wrong, not at all.

"You still want me?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, strained and deep. "Even now?"

You swallowed hard.

The truth was, you did.

Even now. Even with the darkness behind his eyes, even knowing what he'd done, what he was capable of.

You still wanted him.

But for Shane, it was a dangerous question, one that would cut him open if you lied. He had to believe it—had to see it. You were still here, still taking him. Still needing him.

Your voice trembled, but it was the most haunting sound to him, beautiful and frightening at once. "Yes, yes… even now!"

The confession broke something in him. He groaned into your ear, unable to stop himself as his body moved in an almost feral rhythm. Every thrust was a plea; every sound leaving his lips was a question he was too afraid to answer.

And then? He moved.

You barely had a second to react before his hands were on you, his arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you upright, your back pressing against his sweaty chest. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open as he kept moving, his cock still throbbing and buried deep.

"What the—!" The words came out as a yelp, a half-strangled moan, as he lifted you, his strength and size effortlessly keeping you close to him.

"Move." It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

Still inside you, stretching you open, he half-dragged, half-carried you toward the bathtub.

The bathroom was humid by now, steam clinging to the walls from the hot water as he reached past you, and within seconds, more water poured down on both of you.

"Fuck—!" You gasped, your body shivering against him.

He slammed you forward, pressing your hands against the bathroom wall, his strength keeping you right where he wanted you. The water soaked through the rest of your clothes, ran down his chest, over your breasts, and over the bald, burning spot of his scalp.

But Shane stopped all of a sudden.

You gasped as he froze inside you, his cock still pulsing, filling you to the hilt. His hands, so rough just a moment ago, softened their grip. One stayed on your waist, fingers trembling. The other moved—slowly—gliding up your body, moving over your wet shirt and your breasts, before stopping along your throat. But he wasn't grabbing it. He was just… feeling you.

His fingers twitched slightly at your throat before he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. But this time, it wasn't hungry, wasn't bruising. It was soft. His lips parted, his tongue tasting the sweat and water on your skin, breathing you in.

Shane's nose trailed along your jaw, and then he turned your face gently toward his.

The kiss was barely a kiss at all at first—just the soft press of his mouth, like he needed to know you were real. His lips brushed against yours, rougher now, before fully kissing you deep, as if afraid.

"How many rounds you got left?"

The words didn't belong here.

Not to you.

But they were in his head. Again.

Loud. Too loud.

Shane's body tensed as his eyes flew open, staring at you—seeing you.

But he felt a hand ripping at his head once more, desperate fingers clawing at his head, tearing a piece of his hair away. He felt the gun in his hands, his finger on the trigger. He saw the look in Otis' eyes—that second of realization, of horror, of fear.

"I'm sorry."

The gunshot rang in his ears…

"Let go of me!"

He remembered the feeling of Otis pulling him down to the ground. The walkers getting closer, closer still…

His tender grip around your throat tightened, just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to pull him back into now, into you.

"Let go!"

He could still hear his voice screaming at Otis to let go. Still feel the fight, the panic, his nails digging harder into your wet skin.

For a second, he swore he saw blood—smeared all across the bathroom walls, running down his hands, and staining your skin.

But it wasn't there. And the quiet, the stillness—it was gone in an instant.

He yanked you back harder, forcing your back to arch as he slammed into you again. Gone was the hesitation, the tenderness.

It made your knees buckle as he pushed as deep as he could, his cock stretching you open some more, pressing against every sensitive, sore spot inside of you.

But as the water streamed down, it couldn't drown out the sounds filling the bathroom. The quiet whimpers from you. The ragged breaths. The deep groans from Shane.

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing your face roughly against the wall.

There you were—soaking wet, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, fucked, and your body trembling with every deep thrust.

And then there was him.

He was behind you. So strong, so tall, so big. Inside you.

But Shane didn't blink. He didn't look away. He still watched.

Watched the way you took him, watched his cock disappear inside your pussy, watched the way his fingers dug into your wet, trembling body.

He was fucking you like he needed this—like if he stopped, he'd have to feel something else.

Shame? Guilt?

And he wasn't ready for that. He needed to push away the thoughts in his mind. Needed to forget.

"Please—" Your voice broke between uneven breaths, barely more than gasps.

But the way you said it—breathless, needy—fuck. It nearly killed him.

His thrusts turned faster, harder, driving himself so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts.

"Shit," he growled. "Fuckin'—"

He cut himself off with a groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder for a moment before pulling back, teeth biting down into your skin as if nothing else mattered anymore.

Only the desperate, broken moans leaving your lips.

Only him.

Only this.

Shane's breath hitched, his chest pressing against your back as he moved, changing the angle. Your head snapped up, eyes flying open, your hands desperately trying to hold onto the wet wall as the new position had him hitting even deeper.

Shane knew he wasn't supposed to care about that.

But seeing you like that? Seeing you lose yourself in him?

"Doin' so fuckin' good," he growled into your ear, kissing your neck before his hand wrapped around it again.

"You feel that?" He panted, his other hand holding you steady, pulling you harder against him. "See how fuckin' good you look takin' my cock? Talk to me."

Your mind was spinning—still trying to process how the hell you got here, how fast it happened, how good he felt inside you. But Shane—he needed you.

"C'mon, girl," he growled, his lips touching your ear. "Need to hear you."

He didn't just mean the moans. He wanted more. Wanted words.

Wanted to drown in them—let them pull him under until all that was left was this. You. The feeling of your body wrapped around him, squeezing him, taking him.

Another thrust, deep and brutal, knocked a silent cry from your lips. Your fingers dug into the slippery wall, struggling for any kind of grip.

"I—" Your voice was trembling. "Shane—"

"Nah, baby, not my name," he laughed out loud, shaking his head before his teeth bit the skin of your neck to make you whimper. "Tell me what you feel when I'm fuckin' you like this… when I'm making you feel this good."

The way he was talking, you barely recognized him. He was different now. Not the Shane from Atlanta. Not the Shane who always had a way of joking around and keeping the group together.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone who had blood on his hands.

Hell, you weren't sure you even cared.

Your body burned for him. Your skin was on fire where he touched you, his hands claiming you like he could fuck himself so deep inside you that his sins would just disappear.

"I—" You tried again, but your voice broke when he rolled his hips against you just right, his cock pressing into that one spot that made your legs shake.

"Say it." His hand slid up, fingers grabbing your soaked hair. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He wanted to see it. See you say it.

You swallowed, your lips parting, your voice breathy and weak. "Yes, yes! You feel so good inside me!"

Shane choked out a grunt so raw it sounded like a personal kind of prayer. A plea to save him from himself.

But whatever last bit of restraint he had left? Gone.

"Tell me I'm the only one who can make you feel this way," he grunted, his voice turning quieter. "I know you've been wantin' this. Been wantin' me."

You moaned, your knees nearly giving out, the water from the bathtub streaming down your back, soaking into your clothes.

"F-Fuck," you stammered, barely able to breathe, barely able to form any reasonable thought with the way he was wrecking you, your pussy clenching so tightly around him.

"Shane—"

Wrong answer… His grip on your hair tightened, punishing.

"Tell me."

Your breath hitched.

"Only you can make me feel like this," you whimpered, breathing weakly. "Only. You."

Shane groaned like you'd just stabbed a knife into his heart, his forehead pressing against the back of your head for half a second before his mouth was near your ear again, only for him to drag you out of the bathtub, his hands holding you still.

You gasped, and before you could fully adjust, he was backing up, pulling you with him.

"Push back, baby, push back—let me show you," Shane growled as he backed you both up against the bathroom wall, his back hitting it with urgency as you were forced to face the mirror above the sink. It was still foggy, steamy like the room, but still clear enough for you to see the way he took you—hard, fast, with no hesitation.

Without any warning, his thrusts became brutal.

Shane was fucking into you like a man possessed, like if he stopped for even a second, every memory would come back.

"Shit—look at you," he smirked, one hand sliding down, pressing against your lower belly. "You feel me right there, baby?"

Your fingers clenched into fists, your eyes looking slowly toward the mirror.

The sight of it all… You, your skin red from the warmth of the hot water, dripping wet, trembling against his strong chest.

And him, wild-eyed, brutal, desperate...

The way his cock disappeared into you over and over again, the way he stretched you open—it made you clench around him harder.

"Shit," Shane gasped. "You like that, huh? Like seein' how fuckin' good I'm stretchin' you out?"

"Y-Yes—"

His fingers dug into your trembling flesh.

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

You tried to nod, tried to breathe. You couldn't see the mirror anymore—your vision blurred, your body on fire and burning in his arms. All you could focus on was the way he was fucking you, the way he was making you feel.

"Fuckin' say it," he growled.

"I—I'm gonna come," you cried out in return as his thrusts became sloppier, pounding faster into you.

And then—your whole body tensed. Your moans came out sobbing, your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that Shane choked on his next groan.

"F-Fuck, fuck," he stuttered, his hips bucking, making you feel him twitch and throb.

He lost himself.

His cock pulsed inside you, buried deep as he came, his hips pressing hard against your ass.

But Shane didn't move after he was done. He didn't pull out. He just stayed there, deep inside you, his breathing all uneven, his chest rising and falling against your back, holding you close.

For a moment, he didn't feel like he was drowning.

For a moment, he wasn't Shane Walsh.

He was just this—just a man, a man feeling your body so close to him, a man feeling the way his muscles ached from how hard he'd taken you.

Shane then let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to your back.

He should've said something.

Should've talked about what just happened.

Should've let you know he was still there. That he was still himself.

But he didn't. Instead, he just gripped your hips—steadying himself.

It wasn't enough. Nothing would be.

As Shane exhaled through his nose, long and slow, he was finally—finally—pulling out. The loss of him sent another shiver through you and left you feeling empty in a way you couldn't even explain.

And still, he said nothing.

You turned, water dripping from your body as you tried to look into his eyes, but he was already moving—grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat and water from his face.

"Shane... This—" Your voice was hoarse and shaky, and you weren't even sure what you wanted to say.

Are you really okay?

Was this just a distraction?

What the hell was this?

So many questions...

But he didn't react to the sound of your voice.

You reached down for your wet clothes, trying to shove your pants back up, your movements frantic and quick. When you risked another glance at him, he still wasn't looking at you.

He was staring into the mirror. His shoulders tense, his chest still rising and falling, sweat dripping down his naked chest.

But Shane's face? Shane's face looked haunted.

His jaw clenched, so you tried again, softer this time. "Hey..."

Nothing.

He just turned, reaching for the towel again, and wiped it over his chest, his shoulders, and along his arms.

The bathroom felt suffocating by now, not for him, but for you—hot steam and cold silence tormenting you from all sides.

And just when you were about to give up—just when you were stepping toward the door…

"I didn't mean to."

You stopped as the words came out of him, hollow and quiet—like a confession meant for no one, yet meant for everything.

He didn't mean to—what?

You never turned back to ask.

Instead, you pulled open the door and stepped out—out of the suffocating heat—only to be hit with something colder once you walked down the stairs.

A silence far worse than the one in the bathroom.

And you felt it. Those stares.

Rick. Lori. Maggie. Glenn.

All of them…

Standing there, just beyond the door where Carl was still recovering, thanks to Hershel, their conversations had stopped the second you stepped into view.

Their eyes looked at you—at your wet clothes clinging to your skin, the water still dripping from your hair, the red marks already showing along your neck and throat.

No one spoke. No one dared to say a word.

But the silence wasn't empty; it was hanging like a storm cloud over the entire room.

Rick's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his cheeks twitching, while Lori's lips parted just a bit, her eyebrows furrowing like she wanted to say something—like she wanted to ask, but knew the answer already.

Glenn quickly looked away, his face turning red as if he were the one caught in something he shouldn't have seen.

And Maggie? She just blinked. Not judging. Not surprised. Just watching you with her red, swollen eyes from crying.

You swallowed hard, forcing your chin up, calming down your breath. Then, with a final step forward, you kept walking toward the front door, not wanting to talk. It wasn't necessary.

Meanwhile, the bathroom door upstairs remained shut.

And inside?

Inside, Shane stood motionless in front of the mirror—staring at himself, watching his reflection drown in the fog.

He didn't mean to…

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (2)

summary. daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap

warnings. fluff, angst mentions of daryl’s childhood abuse, mentions of death, swearing

divider credits. @cafekitsune

greene farm

It was a new place, and they didn’t belong, and were only welcome due to the miss-aim of Otis. If he had hadn’t ricocheted a bullet into Carl, then their group that had travelled from Atalanta to the CDC and then some, would never have found this little piece of solace. Daryl’s eyes squinted beneath the glaring sun as he sought out the figure that had brazen themself to be absorbed in the daylight, feeling safe since there were barbed fences separating them from the wilderness in which the dead freely roamed. Y/n was enjoying the quiet that surrounded her, sitting upon the blades of grass that handed no threat in her direction.

It was pleasant to see her so peaceful, she wasn’t running for her life, or scavenging for scraps to replenish her hunger, she was instead still, and content in being so. But feeling secure wasn’t enough; it wouldn’t last, it never did. They’d eventually be sent on their way back to the trailing lands that had lead them here in the first place. The road was cruel, and it would only get worse when winter devoured them with the hardships of its crisp air.

And Daryl resented the foreshadowed thought, as they would need more supplies and warm food, and a fire big enough to bring heat to them all. The embers would only attract the undead and threaten them with even more loss, and whilst Daryl wasn’t particularly fond of many people in the group, he had somehow integrated within its ties after Merle’s absence.

Merle had left him before, in the worst possible way - alone with their father William Dixon. He understood that his elder brother had wanted to escape from the abusive entrapment, and thus he had allowed Daryl to be single-handedly foreseen by their parent as a punching bag; and worse. He still had the scars that were far too prominent over his body, they were askew like lines in a map, permanent and hadn’t faded since the sharp indents that had once been bloody had healed.

He resonated in a ying and yang parallel with Carol, the mother of Carol. She was distraught with Sophia’s fleet, already grieving her loss when there was nothing sufficed to state that she was either dead or alive, and Daryl felt responsible to uncover the reality that encased the child, to bring comfort to not only her mourning mother, but the rest of the group. It was an unsure journey that he had already been scathed from, a bullet that only with luck grazed his temple, and an arrow that was plunged from the long fall into his side, but he needed to do this.

Daryl knew what it felt like to be alone when he had been of the same age as Sophia, however he had discovered a loophole through the tormenting years prior to the contagion that infected the human vessel; there was a girl. He had been instantaneously drawn to her, although at first he had wanted to keep his distance, he’d never allowed anyone close. But she made him see the sun shine in every smile that composed itself upon her face and each glimmer that reflected in her eyes.

She made him feel safe. And so here he was, seeking her out as the gauze remained attached to his head, and if anyone saw him he was sure he would look like a fool. The normally obscure and grouchy Daryl appeared giddy as he stepped towards his human lifeline, his footsteps uncoordinated as he felt the ache in his side brew.

At the sound of shuffling fabric behind her, y/n’s head whipped around, she knew better than to just assume that there was no danger that could appear out of nowhere. Even with the serene tranquility that was deranging her viewpoint from the world that had began feasting on itself, there was always the risk that getting too comfortable would end in death. And Daryl smirked at the sight of the blade that shone from the sun in her hand.

“Thought you were a walker you ass!” She exclaimed, her mouth widening in a teeth baring smile. Her blade was placed back in its hiding spot as she felt the need to aid Daryl in seating himself next to her, her palm remaining against his bare arm. “I kicked Andrea’s ass after her shit shot, told her to get Herschel check her eyesight.” Daryl shook his head lightly as to not cause any more disturbance to his injury, promptly nudging her with his shoulder as he allowed himself to laugh at her protective demeanour towards the blonde.

“Yer real funny sunshine.” His rare smile was prominent as he endearingly looked at his girl, wrapping his arm around the back of her relaxed shoulder blades as he brought her closer. But close was still not close enough. “C’mere.” Daryl agilely helped her climb onto his lap, the place he reserved solely for her, his rough yet tender hands remaining on her hips as he brought his face near to y/n’s, rubbing their noses together in a sweet eskimo kiss.

He was exhausted, and he felt like a failure, but she was the only comfort that he needed. Her form was facing his own, and she brushed her featherlight fingertips against his cheekbones, sparing a glare to the dressing. “We’ll find her.” She whispered gently, shutting her eyelids as she melted into him. “But for now you need to rest honey, I’m not having you wear yourself into the ground.” His head rested against her collarbone, inhaling her presence as he tried not to be frustrated with himself.

It wasn’t his fault that Sophia had ran for her life off of the highway, and he wasn’t guilt for being unable to find anything other than her stuffed toy. His hands ran up and down y/n’s back as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, finally taking a break from his daily searching. He just needed his girl planted in his lap, and all his qualms and insecurities became minor.

[ssvnriseya]

LOVE AFFAIR (R.G.)

summary - you and rick had a forbidden affair that you knew was bad for the both of you, but you loved him and you can't help it.

warning - MDNI 18+ heavy angst, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it buddy!), cumming inside, rick is a bit of an asshole and a jerk but we love him for it, lowercase intended, mentions of shane, mentions of lori and shane cheating on our poor baby, I think that's it. (lmk if i missed anything.)

notes - i love rick, period, previously the other woman but i changed it to love affair.

masterlist

you glanced at rick as he assisted lori and carl out of the car and onto the little camp you and the group has decided to settle in for the night.

it had been months since the farm fell when it was hit by a herd, months since you and the others have been on the road and were consistently on the run.

it has been months since something happened between you and rick, five months to be exact. you didn't know what happened or how it happened.

you only knew that you and rick needed comfort and stress relief since that night when you and rick were on the top floor of a house your group stayed in for a week.

you and rick were guarding the house from the top of the balcony, well rick was, you were just accompanying him because sometimes you know it gets too lonely.

you were talking his ear off and trying to converse with the man you've liked since the first time you met.

he was older, you were fine with that, it wasn't much of a big problem. it wasn't the thing to stop you from your feelings over him.

he has a wife. that was the thing that would stop you, you've tried to stop liking him but you could not, he was a great leader and he was a great father.

carl is rick and lori's son, he was a teenage boy that was a very sweet guy, he was the reason you met rick. otis has accidentally shot the boy and that brought rick to ask your uncle for help.

you looked away from the family as you bit your lip, staring at the fire embers instead as if it would make the aching pain in your chest go away.

fuck, you can see from the corner of your eyes how lori and rick lovingly held their son as they told him stories and cuddled with him.

"is that how you met mom?"

you could hear carl ask innocently as he looked up into his fathers blue eyes, you tilted your head a bit to the side to look at them and now you wish you didn't.

rick was smiling as he made heart eyes to his wife, the woman also had a smiling face as rick slowly nodded and looked back down at his son.

"yeah, bud. that's how i met your mom." rick nodded as he played with the boy's hair. was it really a good memory that it had them laugh amidst the chaos around the world?

you've never made him laugh, were you not really just funny? you also wanted to make rick laugh, you wanted to be the reason why he was laughing.

he rarely ever smiles when he's with you, whenever your bodies are onto each other or after that. he rarely smiled or laughed.

it was truly a rare moment to see him smile with you, and you would give up everything you had just to see him smile again, because of you.

you're crazy and down bad but whatever, you loved him. what can you do? it's not like you can control who your heart likes or loves.

"share it with us." beth smiled at the couple as she laid her head on your uncle hershel's lap, the old man was stroking the girl's blonde hair as he also looked at the couple.

everyone was looking at the family by now, also wanting to hear a love story once again for the first time since shit hit the fan.

you can feel butterflies form inside your stomach when rick's gaze landed on you, you smiled a bit as you looked away again.

he always had this stupid effect on you. you hate and love it at the same time, you hated it because it shows how weak you are for him, you love it because you love him and only he could make you feel this way.

you can hear the silence of the night as everybody waited for the story or rick and lori, how they met and how their love happened.

you didn't wanna hear it, you can't hear it. it would burn you and hurt you but you can't do anything, others would get suspicious.

maggie was a smart woman, she would instantly figure out what was going on and you didn't want anyone to know what's up with you and rick.

you only pressed your lips into a thin line as you mirrored daryl's usual position, you dazed into the fire as you waited for rick to start the story.

"well, there's this college party my brother and i attended." rick started and you didn't dare look at him while he told the group how he met his wife.

"and?" carl asked impatiently and everyone laughed at the little boy, even you let out a little smile as you quickly wiped it.

"i saw your mom with her friends and we fell in love." rick stated simply as he finished the story in two simple sentences.

"that's it?" beth and carl grumbled as they wanted more, treating it like a bed time story as beth finds it hard to sleep on the cold grass.

"well, lori... she liked to make pancakes on sundays..." rick stated in a teasing voice as lori slapped his arm, also smiling at the memory.

"they weren't great." she instantly informed everyone as she waved at the air like she was trying to clear off the fact that rick tried to make her look like a good cook.

you frowned a little, you were a better cook. you don't burn your pancakes and surely you could do them a little better than lori.

you shook your head and thought about the times the older woman has been kind and generous to you. you can't say things about her just because you love her husband.

you were attracted to her husband yet she was the one who stood like your mother when you and the group were still in atlanta.

"rick doesn't bring lunch to work, he buys them." she chuckled as everyone laughed along with her. you let out a small scoff.

how could rick like her if she doesn't even know how to cook? how could she be a wife without learning how to cook in the first place.

but yet again your cooking skills would be no use if the guy you liked already has a wife and loves her despite her bad cooking skills.

you were glad hershel and beth were between you and the family. you can't stand being that close to rick. you would probably just have broken down.

he wasn't okay with her just a month ago, that's why you were both grinding against each other while everyone was asleep in the next building.

he definitely wasn't okay with her two months back, hence why he claimed that he needed you and only you could make him feel better.

three months back was the worse, lori and rick weren't even in speaking terms despite the woman trying to converse with her husband.

they weren't okay four months ago because lori cheated on rick with shane, thinking that her husband's dead, they weren't okay because she hooked up with rick's best friend.

they started drifting apart five months back when the farm was hit by a herd and shane died, rick wasn't even able to look at her in the eyes.

so when did everything go wrong? they weren't on good terms one month ago and now they're just laughing like a family like everything is back to normal?

maybe everything is back to normal. maybe rick has forgotten the fact that lori had cheated on him or maybe he just forgave her.

maybe it's just because his feelings for her came back and they were willing to try again for carl? maybe they were willing to try again as a whole family?

you took a quick glance at lori's stomach and your heart felt like it was being stabbed multiple times at the same time with different knives.

she was six months along, she was pregnant. none of you knew if it was rick's or shane's but the former was willing to stand up as a father for the baby whether it was his or not.

and that made you sick. he dropped you at the sidewalk to start a family again with the first woman he loved. he dumped you because he wants the four of them as a family.

did you actually mean so little to him? were you just really a bed warmer or a body he could use whenever he was feeling horny or stressed?

but you didn't care, you loved him, right? you don't care if he was using you or not. you would do anything for him because you loved him.

loving him comes along with things, and you were willing to pay for it. you can endure the pain and suffering, as long as you can love him.

you would rather it be that no one loves you than no one loves him. he was your everything and he's great, he deserves all the love in the world.

if letting him go means him being happy, you would let him go a million times. you loved seeing a smile on his face, you loved hearing the sound of his laughter.

your smile at maggie held so much meaning when she offered you a beef jerky that was being passed along the group as rick and lori went on sharing stories.

you passed the beef jerky to your uncle hershel and beth and you accidentally made eye contact with rick. only this time neither of you looked away from each other.

you smiled bitterly as if telling him that you understood, telling him that it was fine, that you were fine. but you weren't and the both of you knew that.

"rick..." you moaned his name as you both kept the pace you had, desperate to get some release. your hands were entangled in his curls as he was kissing your neck.

he was thrusting his hips into you so bad that the bed almost broke, you almost felt bad for the bed if you both weren't so starved for each other.

"please..." you begged as you met his hips, you were nearing and he was too. "ric—" you moaned loudly and rick had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet.

you would scream his name out loud like it was the only word you knew, but you knew you can't. the group was sleeping on the third floor of the building.

it was too quiet except for the occasional grunts and moans of the passing walkers. it meant that your moans would echo and reach those who were sleeping.

"i-i missed you..." you moaned.

you both were on the ground floor but you knew you would never lose a thing by making sure you were quiet. rick could keep his moans at bay while you? you can't.

it was too much of a pleasure for you and you wanted rick to finish inside you, to have him cumming the same time you are. you wanted to feel close to him more than ever.

"i-i'm coming..." your moaning was muffled by his big hand that almost took over the whole part of your face. you closed your eyes as you tightened up around him and came.

rick groaned in relief as he stopped thrusting and muttered praises as he felt your warm walls tighten up more around him.

"fuck... lori—" he came inside you as you stopped yourself from moving, you were frozen as you gripped his shoulders, pushing him away from you.

"what the fuck?" you stood up once he was off you, he also looked shocked when the word slipped out of his lips. the same lips you loved to kiss.

you searched for your clothes as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, you found your undies and jeans as you reached for your bra and shirt along with your sweatshirt.

you didn't even dare to turn around and face his stupidly handsome face, you were too scared to do so. he was stuttering as he tried to come up with an explanation.

"what?!" you finally faced him as you started slipping on your undies, followed by your jeans. "you can't fuck her so you fucked me?!" you screamed, you didn't care if anyone heard you at the moment.

"what? is it because she's pregnant or she fucking only wants your best friend fucking her?" you hissed in pure anger.

"it's not—" he started as he tried to grab your arm, you backed away as you put in your shirt followed by your sweatshirt after putting in your bra.

"i'm not—" you sobbed as you stopped yourself from completing your sentence, "i'm not a fucking whore you can k-keep around to fuck when you feel... feel horny!"

"it's not fair how you just fuck me because you want to... or when you want to fuck your wife but forget you can't so you fuck me..." you sniffled as you crouched down.

"i-i love you that's why i always have sex with you." you confessed to him as you hid your face in the palm of your hands.

"it hurts me how you were laughing with her last week when you weren't fine a week ago..." you shook your head, disappointed at yourself.

"i said no strings attached..." rick looked down at you as he also started clothing himself if anyone ever came down due to your screams.

"i know... but i got attached. maybe too much more than before." your voice cracked as you looked up at him, wiping your tears.

"we're—" he started as he ran his right hand over his face and hair, "we're casual." he finished and you nodded several times.

"i-i know rick. i know." you nodded as you slowly stood up as you looked up at him, slowly walking towards him as you wiped your tears away.

"c-can't you try loving me?" you asked once you were standing face-to-face in front of him, voice cracking as he looked anywhere but you.

"i'm sorry." he looked down at the ground as he put a hand in his hips, shaking his head as you reached for his hands. he was breaking your heart and he knew it just by the sobs and whimpers that escapes you.

"please?" you begged as you lifted his head to look at you, pulling your hand away from his hand as you supported the sides of his cheeks.

"i-i can't." he shook his head and he also had tears in his eyes by now, also waiting to spill out any moment. he was shocked how he could hold back his tears.

you were desperate, sad, and angry. maybe this didn't hurt him too much and he really had no feelings for you that's why he can't even spare a tear for you.

"in another life?" you asked as you gave up, your shoulders slumping as you smiled at the older man, caressing his stubble.

"in another life." he nodded finally breaking as he saw your pained smile and at how you were so accepting and understanding.

"i love you, rick." you whispered out as you searched his eyes for any signs that he wanted you too, not the way of you being beneath him but wanting to be with you.

you waited for a second but all you got was silence and his silent sobs. you nodded and smiled again, wiping his tears as he looked down.

"it's okay... i understand..." you assured him as you brought the taller man into a hug, he buried his face into the crook of your neck as you rubbed his back.

maybe you weren't meant to be in this universe. maybe the universe had other plans for the both of you. maybe in the next life... he could finally learn to love you.

he might not love you in this life or universe, the next life and the next one after that but you knew one thing.

you might be the other woman in this universe, in this life. but maybe in another life you could be the one he chose, the one he loved.

you would always be waiting for him.

[sai-int]

Hi! This is the first time I make request and sorry if my english isn't good but I've been reading a lot of smut of daryl lately and now i am craving some angst. Could you write one where the reader is younger than daryl (maybe she's around 23) and she has a huge crush on him but daryl doesn't want too acknowledge her feelings because she's younger than him. But then daryl realised that he's crazy about her too when reader is trying to move on from him.

Thank you! Mwah!

I turned this into smut, and kinda strayed away from what you asked I'm so sorry, also i just found this in my drafts from like a year ago, i am SO sorry pookie

-> not proofread, straight stream of consciousness vibes

farm!daryl, kinda smut, mdni, ignore the lack of capitalization, I did this on my phone

from the second he saw you smoking way up in that tree, he knew he'd be better off hightailing it back to atlanta.

the eldest greene sister. and boy did herschel have a lot to say. When daryl and his group arrived at herschel's farm, daryl's initial thought was that it must've been a weed farm, mainly because he could smell the damn plant from at least a mile away.

okay, not really. herschel picked up on the scent as he greeted the group outside and followed daryl's gaze to you, propped up in a tree, puffing away at your diy bible-rolled joint as you doodled in a notebook

"would you stop with the damn plants for a second? We have visitors." herschel called out to you. you hopped on out of the tree and made your way over to the group, snuffing out the joint and stuffing it in your pocket for later.

what? it's not like there's anywhere you could buy some more.

"thought we weren't taking anybody in?" you said to your dad, sizing up the group before your eyes landed in daryl.

herschel had responded, but either the weed kicked in or the world must've suddenly gone mute, because the only thing you could hear was your heart beating.

he had made eye contact with you, but quickly adverted his eyes and fixated on the grass, which became the most intriguing thing in the world to him.

herschel continued talking and negotiating with the group's leader as you stood there, your eyes flickering between daryl and the rest of the group.

herschel had allowed them to stay until a kid you discovered to be carl–who got shot by otis) heals up. much to your dismay, you could see the brooding archer setting up camp right underneath your designated smoke spot. not that you minded having a man that absolutely devour-able underneath you as you indulged, but it was still your tree. you had headed inside to make some dinner for carl when you spotted him through the kitchen window.

you quickly stomped your way out of the main house to your tree- his tent. he had just snuffed out his fire and zipped up his tent for the night.

"you're camping out under my tree." you said matter-of-factly, standing outside of his tent and perfectly aware that he can hear you through the thin fabric.

"it ain't yer tree, sunshine." he grumbled from inside the tent.

"it's not your land."

"ya can't make a tree yer property... ain't how that works."

"oh but that is how it works.."

you could hear a mumbled response, but you were already rounding the tent and making your way up the tree before you could make sense of it.

it wasn't long before the smell permeated his tent. he didn't mind the smell of weed, if anything, it enticed him to join you. but god was he exhausted.

perhaps, he wasn't exhausted enough. he relented and opened his tent and turned around, trying to find you through the darkness. like you had night vision, you could see him looking up, almost directly at you.

"plan on joining me? or you just gonna stare at me little while longer?" You called down to him.

"ya gon' share?" he said loud enough for you to hear him, but not enough to wake the others.

"come and find out.." you teased. not only did weed make you generous, but it turned you on too. flirting with the clearly older man was not on your playbook, but then again, neither was the end of the world.

christ almighty this was a new low. definitely sativa.

he made his way up the tree with ease, the smell of weed growing stronger as he made his way closer to you. he sat down across from you. the thick branches of the willow tree would support you both. The fiery glow from the bud briefly illuminated your face as you inhaled

to daryl, you were much prettier than you were earlier. he could see the way your rosy lips had briefly trapped the filtered end of the joint before inhaling, and the warmth in your cheeks under the moonlight. yeah, he was definitely feeling the second-hand high.

wordlessly, you held out the joint to the older man, smiling softly as he took it from your grasp and placed his lips around it.

he took his fair share of hits as you shamelessly admired him. his looks weren't lost on you, and yours most defintely were not lost on him. maybe it was the weed, or the way you tits sat in you shirt, or the way your hair seemed to perfectly frame your face, or even the look in your eye, but he slowly felt himself shuffling over to you, suddenly longing to feel your skin on his.

as he sat closer, the smell of weed seemed to fade away as your aroma his him like a brick. the vanilla in your remaining body wash had been swept up by the wind, imbuing his senses, sending a wave of sparks straight to his cock.

the tension was palpable. he looked into your longing eyes. he knew what you wanted. he wanted it too.

"we can't- yer old man he'd-" he mumbled, ignoring the way your eyes burned his skin, and most defitnely trying to ignore the way his pants strained around him.

"we can," you cut him off in the same quiet fashion, your hand finding his thigh as if it had a mind of its own.

the second you touched him, he could feel himself bending to your will, his mind slowly twisting into mush. he saw the redness in your eyes and knew you were just as gone as he was.

within seconds you planted your lips onto his, molding together instantly. his rough hands found their way to your hips as he maneuvered you on top of him.

you could feel his cock straining in his pants as you instinctively pressed yourself into him. he could feel the heat from your cunt radiating onto him as you mewled from the friction. your teeth caught your lip as you remembered that you couldn't be too loud. he looked up at you, his heart pounding and reverberating through his bones. you began to grind on him as he held you firmly against him, his head tipping back and against the larger trunk of the tree as he kneaded the fat of your hips.

he pressed you harder against him, moving your hips to grind against him as he instinctively bucked his hips into you. his clothed cock rubbed repeated and merciless strokes against your clit. his hands snaked their way up your back and neck, eventually grabbing a fist full of hair from the nape of your neck. he pulled backward, latching his lips to your neck, feeling your heart beat erratically underneath your skin.

"f- fuck..." you mewled into his ear. daryl wanted that sound on repeat 24/7. you felt yourself begin to drip past your panties and soaking your cotton shorts. your hands rested on his hard chest, feeling his body shutter with every stroke of your hips.

daryl could embarrassingly feel his climax approaching as he pressed himself into your heat. the coil that tightened inside brought him some semblance of clarity from his high. He stilled your hips with his hands and pulled you off him.

"what the fu-"

"I ain't gonna cum inside m'pants like some damn teenager... 'f 's gon' be anywhere, its gon' be inside ya." he said quietly, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, still holding you close.

masterlist

[spncrscasey]

Casual (k.s.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader, Matt Casey

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Agreeing to a friends with benefits deal with Kelly Severide to blow of some steam after shifts seemed like a great idea in the beginning. What happens when one of you starts to catch feelings?

Warnings: 18+ (no actual smut written but don't read if implication of it makes you uncofmy) - slight ooc kelly? hurt/comfort, mention of child death, fires, angst, pet names, fluff, implied smut, cursing, mention of sex, drinking, arguments, kissing, happy ending

a/n: i’ve been a matt girl since the moment i started watching chicago fire but recently i’ve been obsessed with kelly so this fic is a result of said obsession! also this was a bit rushed so ignore that lol but it was kinda inspired by the song casual by chappell roan so if you want, give it a listen while reading :) oh by the way the gif??? it’s gonna be the end of me- my god. anyways, enjoy <3

You were at Molly’s, nursing your third glass of wine for the night, hoping to forget about the terrible shift you just had.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, but the universe had different plans. Thinking back, you start wondering what had gone wrong.

Truck and Ambo were called to a small fire at a local café. At first, it seemed like a minor incident, just burnt toast that had accidentally caught fire. What you hadn't realized, though, was that one of the stoves had been left on accidentally, causing gas to slowly leak out.

Upon arrival, your Lieutenant, Matt Casey, instructed Otis and you to escort everyone from the sitting area. Fortunately, there were only a few customers that day, making your job easier.

As you began ushering everyone out, a mother approached you and expressed concern that her six-year-old daughter was still inside. You asked Otis to stay with her before assuring her that you would locate her daughter.

Once the building was evacuated and Herrmann was preparing to hose down the kitchen, you radioed in about the missing girl and announced that you were going back inside to find her. Casey advised you to hurry up before the situation escalated making you nod and rush in.

Heading back in, you immediately began searching for the little girl. You called out to her, but there was no response. After checking the bathroom, you noticed her unconscious form lying under the sink. Your heart sank. You quickly checked her pulse and realized how faint it was. You removed your mask and placed it on her, hoping it would help her breathe. Once the mask was on, you swiftly picked her up and hurried towards the exit.

Passing by the kitchen, you didn't notice how the stove was on. You should have. You don't know how you didn't. It was your job to notice these things but you were in such a rush that it slipped your eye. The realization only dawned on you when you heard Herrmann yelling for everyone to exit the area because of leaking gas and by then, the explosion had already occurred.

The impact sent you stumbling backward, causing you to tumble to the ground with the girl in your arms. Casey’s voice crackled through the radio, but the ringing in your ears muffled the words. You couldn't seem to stop coughing and your head was throbbing making your vision start to blur. You felt yourself succumbing to the darkness, but you fought to regain your composure and struggled to stand up.

Once the initial shock had worn off, you quickly got up and made it to the exit, disregarding your injuries, only concerned about passing the girl off to Gabby and Shay. They tried their best, you know they did, but the girl was dead before you even got to them. The explosion had killed her. The explosion you should have seen coming.

That six-year-old girl passed away, and it was all your fault.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of your name. It was Kelly, the Lieutenant of Rescue Squad 3, and one of your closest friends, whom you were currently sleeping with.

A few months ago, after a particularly difficult shift, Severide and you had accidentally ended up spending the night together. Since then, you two agreed to keep it casual— no strings attached, friends with benefits, if you will. Both of you promised to break it off if one of you started to catch feelings and that seemed reasonable to you.

“Rough day?” He asked taking a seat on the barstool beside you.

“Six-year-old kid died in my arms, so I'd say so.” You say looking down at your glass, twirling the liquid around mindlessly.

“Wanna talk about?”

“Nope, but I do want to get out of here. Your place? It’s closer.” You glanced at him, and he caught on to what you meant in an instant; you needed to let out your frustrations.

He nodded as you downed the rest of your wine and you two headed back to his apartment without any further questions.

You woke up the next day with an arm draped over your torso. You didn’t think much of it until you realized whose arm it was.

Shit.

You had never stayed over. You guys had never spent the night together to keep the feelings at bay. This was uncharted territory. So to say this was going to be awkward would be an understatement.

You attempted to quietly pull his arm away without waking him, but as soon as you made contact, you noticed him starting to stir.

“Good morning baby,” he voiced, groggily.

“Morning Kell,” You replied, blushing at the unexpected name.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, referencing the reason you were at the bar in the first place.

“Better.” You replied as you turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He didn't say anything, instead simply pulling you in for a quick kiss, letting you know he was there for you.

After pulling away, you decided it was time to get up. Popping the little bubblle you were in and ending the moment you shared.

“I'm gonna get dressed and head out, I didn't mean to stay over- just got carried away. I know we don't do that so I'll leave, sorry.”

“Y/N wait up-” He says, catching your attention.

“Yeah?” You turn around to look at him.

“I don't mind that you stayed, I know you had a tough day yesterday so it's fine. Make yourself at home sweetheart.”

The nickname caught you off guard once more. It wasn't unusual for him to shower you with praise and call you these names during sex. But afterwards? He'd never spoken to you that way and the sudden change was putting your heart in a whirl.

You sighed trying to regain your composure. “Yep, thanks. I'll uhh… I’ll see you at shift.” You brushed him off, smiling.

Since that day, the dynamic between you two has shifted noticeably. Others at the firehouse have started to take note of it as well. He's become more attentive. Making sure he has a meal saved for you when you're too busy to eat, accompanying you home from Molly's when you've had a few drinks, and checking in on you after difficult calls.

It wasn't just him, though. You’ve been overly caring with him too, more than a friend should be. When he discovered he had a half-sister, you stood by him. You supported him in reaching out to her. And when she was going through a rough patch after her kidnapping? You were the one on the phone talking her down when she made the decision to move to Colorado.

After all your help, his mother even invited you to her house as a token of gratitude. You never intended to become so involved with him and his family, it changed how you saw him.

You heard the rumors, you knew he was a player— a womanizer who didn't care about anything except his pleasure. But witnessing his interactions with his family alongside the kindness he's been treating you with recently? It was coming to be harder and harder to view him as selfish and uncaring.

The line between friends and lovers was becoming increasingly blurry. Yet you were still trying your hardest to avoid the development of feelings because you knew once you crossed that threshold, there was no going back.

You were walking towards the kitchen when you caught Casey and Severide engaging in conversation by the coffee pot.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop but hearing your name leave Matt’s lips made you stop dead in your tracks.

“What's going on between you and her?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s all casual. She's nothing more than a friend, Case. We're not together.” Kelly replied, a little too firmly.

Ouch.

You knew nothing was going on between the two of you but hearing that coming from him? It hurt more than you'd like to admit.

You imagined sharing an apartment, perhaps a year or so from now and spending the coming years wrapped in each other's arms, building a family. You chuckled to yourself at the fact that you even thought that was a possibility at some point. Realizing now how naive it was to believe he would ever view you as anything more than a fuckbuddy. Oh, how you loved being stupid.

You spent the rest of the shift avoiding him. It wasn't fair to him; after all, he didn't know you had overheard. Your feelings were your problem, and it wasn't right to act as though he were responsible. Yet, facing him felt impossible without making a fool of yourself.

You found yourself at Molly’s again. Downing shot after shot. You knew you were way past your limit but the lack of Kelly Severide-related thoughts in your brain was encouraging you to continue.

It had gotten to the point where you noticed Herrmann giving you shots of water instead but you were too far gone to care.

You were about to request another real shot when you felt a presence next to you. You turned your head to the side and saw the one person you were trying to forget about.

Lieutenant Kelly Severide.

“You've been avoiding me.” He said, less of a question and more of a statement, keeping his eyes on you.

You hated how small he made you feel, like he could read you in just one glance. His intense gaze made you look away before trying to find Herrmann. “I have not. Now excuse me, I was about to order another drink.”

“You don't need another one.” He said, grabbing your shoulders and turning you back around to face him.

“What are you? My boyfriend? We’re just friends Severide, you don't get to make that decision for me.” You wouldn't have usually been that snarky but the alcohol in your system was giving you courage you didn't know you had.

He was taken aback by your response, you were never like this with him. It was worrying him.

He tried to help you stand up, “Y/N c’mon let's get you home.”

You reluctantly agreed. You knew you were going to regret this in the morning but at the moment, you didn't care. He started walking you towards the exit when you pulled yourself away from him and spoke up, “I don't need a babysitter. I can walk by myself.”

“If you actually think I'm letting you walk home, drunk and alone at this time of night, then you're crazy.” He replied casually while walking beside you.

You stopped abruptly and sighed, looking down. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He questioned, placing his finger under your chin bringing your face up to meet his.

“Why do you act like you care?” You clarified, holding his stare, pretending his touch wasn't erupting fireworks in your stomach.

“I do care! I care more about you than you realize Y/N.” He said a bit too loudly, raising his hands in exaggeration.

“You're not supposed to!” You shouted back.

“Why not? Is it such a crime to care about my friend?” He replied, exasperated and upset.

There it was. The dreaded ‘friend.’ You knew it was coming. So why did it still shock you?

“I- I can't do this Kelly- I'll just call a cab to take me home, you don't need to walk me. Forget anything happened.” You said turning around, ignoring his objections, calling your name.

You spent your days off moping around. Kelly had called you multiple times and left countless messages, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You knew you were being childish, but it didn't matter. The thought of going back to work and having to face him filled you with dread but that was a problem for later. Right now, you have errands to run.

While you were getting dressed, you absentmindedly opened the drawer meant for Kelly. You couldn't avoid him, he seemed to be everywhere you looked. Your phone, your workplace, and now, your dresser.

You sighed. The fact that you two had separate drawers designated for one another at each other's homes, slipping your mind completely. Is that something friends with benefits did? Did they keep clothes at the other’s place to ‘make it easier for them to get dressed?’

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anyone but opened the door regardless not guessing who you’d see on the other side.

You found yourself face-to-face with none other than the man who had been plaguing your thoughts nonstop. However, after avoiding him for so long, you didn't know what to say or how to act. You felt like you’d never been in such close proximity with him before, it was suffocating. So you simply stood there until he eventually spoke.

“We need to talk.” He stated simply.

“What's there to talk about?” You asked, avoiding his eyes.

“This. Us.” He said, motioning between the two of you.

You finally took a good look at him, you noticed the heavy bags under his eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders. It was clear that he was utterly exhausted, as if he hadn't slept at all in the last few days. And the simple thought of the reason for his exhaustion being you, made you feel terrible.

“Severide-” You couldn’t let this drag on for any longer without hating yourself, so you took a deep breath and continued, “I think we should end this arrangement that we have.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

“We agreed that once one of us starts catching feelings, we'd end it. So let's end it before it gets messy and hurts either of us more than it should.” You tried closing the door once you were done speaking but he quickly squeezed himself in, preventing your attempts at pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” You asked following him into your apartment.

“That's not fair!” He exclaims, “You don't get to ignore me for days and then just end our relationship and shut me out.”

“This was hardly a relationship.” You scoff, “But, what did you want me to do Kelly!?” You matched his volume, watching as he paced in the middle of your living room.

“I don't know, maybe talk to me about how you're feeling!” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm while glaring at you. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under right about now.

“Oh, that's really mature coming from you! Mr. Expert at communication.” You replied with just as much pettiness as you could muster, stepping closer to him to prove a point.

He stood silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and approaching you, “Maybe you're right, maybe we do need to end this thing we have. I just thought we cared about us enough to at least talk it out.”

The two of you now stood face to face, your breaths labored and eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze. Silence enveloped the space between you, the tension so thick that it felt tangible like it could be sliced through with a knife.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I shouldn't have ignored you and I also shouldn't have just sprung that on you.”

Once you noticed he was letting you continue, you went on, “I just realized that I couldn't be as ‘casual’ about our relationship as you are anymore. I tried to hold my tongue and ignore the feelings I have for you, but it was getting harder Kelly. Nothing about our deal has been casual for weeks now and it was starting to affect me.” You finally let out.

He took in your words, shaking his head. “It hasn't been casual for me either Y/N. I love you, and have for a very long time.”

The force of his words hit you like a physical blow. Love? How did he claim to love you when he had not only never hinted at such feelings before but also dismissed Casey when he asked about it? You were confused and it was evident on your face with the way you looked at him, shell-shocked.

“You love me? But you told Casey that there was nothing going on between us and-”

You were quickly cut off by his hands on your face, pulling you in. The intensity of his lips against yours short-circuited your entire being. It took a moment for your brain to register what was happening, but soon you found yourself reciprocating his kiss.

While you and he had shared kisses in the past, this one was different. It wasn't hurried like your usual kisses but instead filled with a deep sense of passion, tender and slow, and brimming with love and adoration for one another.

He placed his hands gently on your waist, drawing you closer, deepening the kiss. You raised your arms, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the slight tug as you did. It was as if your lips were pulled together by an irresistible force, making it difficult to part.

You wanted time to freeze in that beautiful moment so you could stay in it forever. You wished to remain embraced by him indefinitely. His touch was tender and affectionate, brimming with care. It felt as though both of you had shed all your worries and were completely immersed in the love surrounding you.

You tentatively ended the kiss and gazed into his eyes, which stemmed a love you had never felt from him before. For the first time, they didn't overwhelm you or make you feel small; instead, they enveloped you in a sense of comfort. And in that fleeting beat, his eyes spoke volumes even when his words remained silent.

“I love you too.” You said, sharing his sentiment, causing a grin to emit on both of your faces.

You felt like a teenager who was experiencing love for the first ever time; and you wouldn't want it any other way.

[writteninthebinds]

Desperately trying to think of what everyone’s favorite music genre is from the arcane universe.

Vi undoubtedly has a playlist titled divorced dad or girl in her 20s filled with classic rock. Puddle of Mudd, Shinedown and Creed blast through the gym as she practices her combos.

Cait gives Boygenius. Moody, mysterious and yet still soft in certain ways. For Vi. Girl In Red, Gigi Perez. She’s listening as she treks through the woods alone, a sodden path under her boots, she looses herself in target practice and the melodies.

Jayce in a button down, wrinkled and left open, boxer shorts and calf-high socks, slipping and sliding in the kitchen as he belts out Consider Me Gone by Reba McEntire. He listens to anything he can dance to, get lost in. Letting go, he sings off key, using the spatula for a fake microphone and only stopping long enough to flip Vik’s pancakes.

Viktor craves music that tells a story. From Hozier to Sleep Token, he feels each set of lyrics. To Viktor, each song he sends or plays aloud in the lab as he and Jayce work, it means something.

Ekko’s a mix of sorts. Something soulful and gritty, found in the depths of deep rooted ancient forest and swamps. Barefoot in mud that coats and clings, that fills the cracks of your soul. Music that feels like home and heritage. Yeah, Ekko’s listening to Hurricane by The Band Of Heathens. Some Otis Redding, Marcus King too.

Jinx is giving punk teen angst forever. In her feels or just jamming out while she tinkers, it’s definitely Hot Mulligan, Neck Deep or All Time Low blasting through her spray painted speakers.

[bailythewarrior]

city 8 server requests.. very fun!! (and also pain thats here too)

me running from the deathwatch squad. these guys want me i am a wanted man

otis!! hi otis!! i was also requested to draw ordinal and elite having a fist fight so there's that too

someone suggested ava as a combine assassin and.. yea i think id die if that ever happened actually. anyway to mitigate the angst and horrible depression potential i also drew them kicking ass

[deansapplepie]

Can’t promise ya that Sweetheart

Daryl x f!Reader | Established relationship | pos savior war | Dad Daryl | little fluff

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating (not Daryl, of course), memory loss, Negan, a little bit of violence, mentions of death, killing threat, a little part of blood, pregnancy, mentions of birth, mentions of torturing, mentions of cancer. (If I forgot anything tell me) Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: This is a small story based on this dream that I had in the end of the last year. Finally decided to write something about it.

It didn’t go exactly what I had planned because of the dream, but here it is. Also, I wanted it to be a small drabble, but I turned it into a big one-shot.

Another thing is… Daryl and Reader have a 6 year old son, but in no moment I wrote his name in the history. I received a critique about reader’s son in The Spitting Image, so I’m still deciding if I’ll continue with DJ in my Dad Daryl fics, or if it will be only for The Spitting Image and I’m coming up with another name in my other fics. Just to make it clear, I have no intention in changing DJ’s name in The Spitting Image.

When the Greenes found you, the world had already ended. In one of Otis’ hunting leaves he encountered you, all bloody, your hair a mess of dried blood and dirty. At first he thought you were dead, but then you let a small cry and he checked your vital signs confirming you were indeed alive. That day he didn’t go back to the farm with good meat, he took you in his arms and arrived at the house urging for help.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[scudslut]

em's masterlist/guidelines

fluff - 𐙚 || smut - ♱ || angst - ✾

➳ Daryl Dixon

one-shots: sins and honey flavored sweetness 𐙚 ♱ ✾ heartsease 𐙚 ♱ a summer wasting 𐙚 midnight refreshments 𐙚 a new years surprise 𐙚 ♱ lazy mornings 𐙚 stay with me 𐙚 ✾ too sweet ♱

drabbles: taste me ♱ head w/ daryl 𐙚♱ daryl’s uncut ♱ s4 daryl 𐙚 ♱ ✾

cannock chase 𐙚 the look of love 𐙚

➳ Scud Frohmeyer

one-shots: take me however you want too ♱

drabbles: cockwarming w/ scud ♱ scuds a slut (canonically) ♱

➳ My Edits

normy's bday dhl burn, burn, burn new bottega

please send requests!

About Me!

em | 21 | gemini

hi everyone! this is so long awaited (i’m legit so lazy) but finally i have a masterlist/about me!

╰─▸ my names emma, i’m obviously in love w daryl dixon/norman reedus. i love to write and make edits — u guys should totally follow my tiktok account @mrsemmadixon or otherwise known as scudslut;)

i met norman jdkskajajs at the nyc comic con 2023, he signed the back of my phone case, i’ll actually die on a fucking hill. yes, he’s just as godly in person.

in my day to day life i work with animals 10 hours a day, they are my main passion aside from writing and whatnot, so if i post a photo of a really cute dog i met, that’s why lmao.

i have 2 cats right now, my baby lily i got last year and sophie who i’ve had since i was a kid. typically we rescue all our animals!

i deal with extreme anxiety and depression from a major accident that happened in my life a few years ago (so if i don’t respond or have trouble posting sometimes… that’s why and i really hope everyone understands.)

I love, love, love music. I play the piano and guitar, probably not very good but who cares. some of my all time favorite artists are.. and here we go on a rampage... deftones, cigsaftersex, wheezer, nirvana, mac, frank, lana, djo, catpower, the vines, dinosaur jr, labi siffre, the kills, tom odell, strokes, velvet underground, kendrick, norah jones, red hot chilies, the smiths, billy idol, the cure, no vacation, mazzy star, fleetwood, empire of the sun, pinegrove, otis redding, neil young, etta james, summer walker, motley crue, guns'n'roses, foo fighters, biggie, shady, nelly, jay-z, $uici$ide boys, gucci... and so much more, my music taste is actually bipolar.

on that note, i actually have a playlist for daryl + norman (music he reposts/i think he’d like) lmk if u want me so share them.

i’m canadian

my parents are both extreme alcoholics, so i suffer from a multitude of childhood traumas as well as current ones. we love it here!:) but id like to think i relate to daryl in some sense, if its the only comfort i get from it.

i could live off of pasta, watermelon and coffee alone

i spend my time either at my job, reading, writing, editing or spending time with some close friends.

and that’s pretty much me!:)

please feel free to ask me questions or request fics, i will absolutely love to do them! (as long as they follow guidelines) if your unsure, just message me to clarify!

My Guidelines:

absolutely no rape/SA/even slight connotations of it.

no incest.

hitting, slapping, or any extreme violence during play, is a no.

age play - i will dabble in this but nothing major where reader is barely an adult. the most i’ll do is early/mid 20’s and daryl is his canon age.

oh yes, and i will write for all norman reedus characters! if you want someone else, messsage/ask me!

gifs/dividers from @cafekitsune

© scudslut - all works are my own. please do not steal, copy, translate or modify any of my work!