#rick grimes concepts

[dixonsfawn]

rick who comes home from a run all sweaty and covered in dirt but refuses to shower because he knows you love the way he looks when he is. who will find you wherever you are and immediately envelope you in his arms, holding you close against him, just wanting to feel you. who begins peppering kisses all over your neck, damp strands of his hair brushing across your skin. who reaches beneath your shirt, or dress, or whatever you've chosen to wear, just so that he can feel your skin beneath his fingertips. hands roaming over you, exploring every curve and dip as if it's the first time. who loses himself in you until he just can't take it anymore and has to have you right then and there. who will fuck you on the kitchen counter, against the wall, the floor, wherever he can cause he just wants to make you feel good ᡣ𐭩

[trailerprk-princess]

𝜗𝜚┊❝𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆❞ | 𝐜𝐫𝐦!𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!!!: 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭/𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧!

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬ᯓ𝜗𝜚

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐦. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟐𝟓𝐤 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬. 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤. 𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞.

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐑𝐌 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐫: 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐬, 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧. 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

“𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬…” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐟𝐟. 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭.

“𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢��𝐭? 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐞,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

“𝐍𝐨,” 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩.

“𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩, “𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨. 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞—𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭��𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?” 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐰.

“𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠. 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. “𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧?” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓.𝐕. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. “𝐀𝐦 𝐈 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠?” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

“𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧?” 𝐇𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦. “𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥! 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.

𝐀𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭. 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫.

“𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲,” 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲, 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. “𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲,” 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫.

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ᯓ𝜗𝜚

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ᯓ𝜗𝜚

[lucilleslore]

- rick with someone who’s super inexperienced and shy. he’s so encouraging as he coaxes you into trying new things. his favourite was the first time you got on top - his eyes drank you in greedily as you rocked your hips slowly against him. you were a tentative little thing, constantly looking to him for reassurance that you were doing well. ‘s good isn’t it, honey?’ he’d coo. he’s got the way you looked engrained in his head - the way your breath hitched as the tip of his cock hit you just right, the way your movements got more confident with time, the little indents in your lip from where you’d bitten. you’d hummed in reply, eyes fluttering in bliss. ‘i told you, didn’t i? should listen to me more often huh?’

[fanofcarson]

Scraps - first tries at designing Rick Grimes as a horse

[littlelovingideas]

Concept:

Being read bedtime stories to fall asleep to, but make it fanfiction.

[itsgrimeytime]

@imaginemyfavoritefics

Magnolia in May (Part Ten) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: infidelity, child abandonment, heartbreak, mentioned family dissolution, parentification (child becoming a parental figure) and betrayal.

[[A/N: Banter!!! And also, can you tell that I'm a child of divorce ??? Actually helped me write this so anyway- I'm not sure how I like this chapter but I think it's what it needs to be. Thanks for reading :))) ]]

The morning was a rather sunny one, the sort that made you wish your dresses were lighter in fabric. Your Headmistress had urged you to wear a hat to protect your eyes -so you'd done so. It was the same color as your dress and had the same sort of embellishments of lace and detailed ribbon, all coordinated.

Even within the carriage (that Mr. Grimes had requested you ride in 'I refuse to chance you having any more illness, Ms. Greene.') the air was rather heavy with humidity. Velvety sort of fabric underneath you -still felt quite offensive to sit on, and the detailing of the carriage seemed extensive. All wood carvings seemed to almost be the work of a hand -detailed beyond what you could truly comprehend.

If you weren't so antsy to see the man, you would've tried a little harder to digest some of the work.

You truly hadn't even noticed you'd stopped moving.

Mr. Dixon spoke, pulling open the door with practiced ease, "Ms. Greene, welcome to the Grimes Alexandrian Estate."

You shook your head, gathering your thoughts and taking his hand to step out onto the courtyard -it was in yet another light this time. The beautifully shining sun of the early morning set a sort of liveliness to the area -shrubs a beautiful green and the gentle trickle of fountains welcomed on your ears. It was how it was to be viewed, you supposed.

Not as gloomy as the rainy, cloudy turmoil, or as static as the night of the ball -a rather electric sort of energy of all those there, excitement and crowds of those who wished to dance the night away. It was only filled with a few faces this morning, trimming some of the hedges and tending to a few of the extra plants. You'd found something wonderful about seeing the estate so natural despite it being such a normal day -it continued to be breathtaking.

You were lost in the effect, standing there rather aimlessly, and you supposed that was why he'd snuck up on you.

"Ms. Greene."

You startled, just slightly, as you settled upon him. He was much how he was the night before -dirted sleeves and hair askew, you'd assumed he'd been working out here. Perhaps it was a hobby of his?

"Mr. Grimes," you echoed, a little breathless -as you were nearly any time you saw him, eyes trailing to the dirt upon his sleeves, "-busy, are you?"

"Right," he spoke -eyes trailing to his own sleeves, almost in embarrassment, "-you'll have to forgive my matter of dress, I was workin' on my garden-"

"Your garden?" You questioned, rather genuinely with a smile split across your face -near giddy that you spoke to him, "-And no need, it suits you well."

"You're much too kind, Ms. Greene," he hummed, a little bashful -you found it rather sweet, "-but yes, my garden. I find it relaxing after such work days, my Mother... She cared for it intently. I share such passions."

"If you wish to," you started -hesitantly, as it seemed such a personal endeavor, "-I shall be delighted to see it one day."

Mr. Grimes stalled for a moment before a rather fond look flickered over his face -one that ever so often raised the crimson to your cheeks, "'At would be lovely. Perhaps later? The evenin' light is terrific for such viewin'."

"Oh," you smiled, rather teasingly, "-I suppose I shall see."

"Are ya to be a harsh critic, then?"

"Only if you want me to be, Mr. Grimes," you replied, as he guided you up the stairs and to the door. Always linked by the arm, your head merely swam at such closeness, "- do you treat all such guests to such pleasantries? Leading them up the stairs at your expense?"

He grinned, a bit of laughter dancing upon his tongue -you'd nearly grinned brighter at the sound, "Certainly not."

"Oh really," you responded -tone exaggerated, "-so I'm a special case, am I?"

Mr. Grimes hummed -a sort of fondness in his voice that made his accent seem ever more prominent, "Rightly so."

"You-" you flustered, still gently attached at the side, "You are too good at such things."

"What things?" He asked -curiously, but there was something gleaming in his eye, something rather playful.

"Flattery," you answered -rather promptly, "-you speak it so fluidly."

"Only for you," he urged, turning his attention fully to you, "-you must kno', it's only for you."

"Mr. Grimes..."

"Shall we head in?" He hummed -eyes still on you rather fondly, "-We have much to speak of."

You hummed, squeezing your hand against his arm -comforting, "Okay."

It was still wonderful to see, despite you being here frequently. All the paintings of wondrous detail -you could nearly see each paint stroke, and part of you wondered just how long it would take to craft such a thing. You'd wished to have your own one day but the expense was far too wide for it to be realistic.

"The paintings," you started, low tone echoing in the empty entry, "-Do you commission them often?"

"No," he started -slow steps in tune with yours as he looked upon the paintings, "-I request 'em upon special occasion."

"Such as?"

Mr. Grimes paused for a moment, before guiding you to the opposite end of the hall -a painting as large as the family portrait you'd seen on a much less happy day. It detailed what you realized to be a very young Judith -wrapped in a blush sort of blanket, pinky red of her cheeks as she slept away. It reminded you of a young Beth, all wonderous blonde curls -you'd mostly seen the girl in photographs, but Judith looked nearly identical to so. She wasn't alone, instead was held tightly by what you recognized to be his son whom you had yet to meet. He looked starkly like his father, it made you wonder if he acted as such.

"When Judith was born," he confirmed, in a wistful sort of voice -he cared for his children, it was rather endearing. It always had been, even upon when you met him -Judith's behavior spoke volumes of the man.

"That's your son?" you asked.

"Carl," Mr. Grimes clarified, "-I'd wish for ya to meet if you weren't opposed."

"I'd be rather delighted to."

He merely smiled brighter at you, the kind that crinkled by his eyes -it always pleased you to see. And as you looked upon the family portrait where he seemed rather solemn, you found you much preferred the Mr. Grimes at your side. Happy, smiling-

He led you down a selection of hallways, each a touch more ravishing than the last -shining vases and detailed trim. It wasn't exactly a printed sort of wallpaper, just rather a vivid sort of color -not to distract from the paintings across the walls. A sort of elegant simplicity.

"Would you mind steppin' in my office to talk? Mr. Dixon shall remain at the door for proper etiquette."

"Wherever you wish," you spoke, softer than you intended but you found you were rather fond of him.

And as you entered the office, you stared at the rather extensive bookshelves and large window facing out into the backyard. It was framed beautifully so, all white wooden trim. You were drawn to the sight, beautiful pastures of flowing green grass. Right in the center sat his kids, enraptured in some sort of game -Carl intently swinging a few dolls around as if he was performing. Under the watchful eye of some staff, of course.

You smiled, trailing your fingers over the glass, "They seem to be enjoying themselves out there. Is it often they play together?"

Mr. Grimes followed you to the sight, a sort of hazy smile rattling across his face, "Very often, Carl has adapted well. I'm very proud of 'im, really."

"That is something quite special, I remember when I was young-" you laughed lightly -memories flashing behind your eyes, "-Maggie nearly trailed around me for years, I was told that I was rather frustrated."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," you relented, turning your attention to him, "-it's an ordeal losing a parent's attention in any capacity, Mr. Grimes. Even further when someone starts to follow you around and take your things-"

He laughed, a sort of bright twinkle, "When ya say it like 'at, I'd find I'd be upset myself."

"As you should."

Mr. Grimes laughed even louder, your heart squeezing in your chest at being the cause of such a noise. I shall wish to never be without it-

"I know-" he started -hollowing out from the laughter to something more serious, perhaps what he wished to tell you, "-I know it was difficult for 'im. When... When she was pregnant."

You hummed, turning all your attention to him -listening, "How so? Perhaps, I could help explain as... as an eldest myself."

He paused, eyed trailing along his children out the window, "The typical things, just- Just not bein' the only one, I suppose."

"It's difficult to come to terms with," you spoke -rather heavy with intent.

You loved your sisters, dearly, but you'd often realized that you became quite an adult rather quickly. It was less of their fault, though, and more evident of the situation. A sick mother and an overworked father, you slotted in to help where you could.

You imagined Carl in the situation you'd only known from rumors. Without a mother, a rather heartbroken father, and a younger sister to care for. It rang rather true to you.

"Lori-" he interrupted your thoughts, seeming to slowly speak through his thought process, "-Lori left after Judith was born. I... I knew what had happened by then, I knew what... what she intended-"

You moved without thinking, extending your hand to turn his face towards you -skin upon his own. It was improper, and you knew so, but something in you urged to comfort him -to aid him somehow-

"It doesn't mean you were ready for her to leave."

Mr. Grimes was silent then, blue eyes intently focused on you -perhaps surprised by such contact, but not... not unnerved, you could see. He merely stalled for a moment, you held your breath -nervous, truly. You hadn't been thinking-

Then, he leaned into your hand. Skin touching in a sort of delicate way as if it soothed him -as if you could do so. Something in your stomach flipped at the idea, a wondrous sort of buzz detailing under your skin -love, love, love rattling in your chest.

"I can't imagine what you went through," you spoke, thumb brushing lightly against his cheekbone, "-at all. But I... I'd like to listen. If you wish to tell."

He sighed, a rumble against your skin, as his blue, blue, blue eyes settled across your face -a touch cloudier than before, "I do. I... I want ya to know everythin', Ms. Greene, everythin'."

"Okay," you whispered -rather teary yourself.

With a shaky breath, he guided you to a seat -cushioned, against the wall next to the window. It was nearly as velvety as the carriage interior, but you couldn't find your focus on its texture. You stared rather intently at Mr. Grimes, eager to listen, to soothe-

"I suppose I'm jus' not sure where to start," he spoke, hand wiping away at his eyes -you wished to do it yourself, honestly but has to control the urges.

You responded, tone rather balanced, "Perhaps at the beginning? With... with Lori?"

He hummed -thinking on it maybe, before deciding, "I believe I should start earlier. My... My childhood."

"As long as you're certain," you remanded, tone unshaken, stable.

"I am, very," he responded without hesitancy, you were sure to search for it, "-Ms. Greene I always fully intended to tell you everythin' and let you decide. There's no hesitation on my part."

"This is..." you paused, "-Your childhood is a part of the explanation?"

"It is, rather-" he hummed, "-I wish to tell ya of an old friend of mine."

You'd assumed so, rumors swirling in your head but found you'd only wished to hear it from here. From him. It was one thing to know it from whispers and entirely another from the direct source -from someone so dear to you. And yet, you wanted him to know you'd heard it -in whatever capacity, "Mr. Walsh."

"We grew up together," he spoke -a sort of bittersweet note in his tone that made you wish to soothe, "-I remember we used to help out in the yard, workin'. My father never made it easy for me, probably why I like workin' outside so much these days."

You thought for a moment, merely watching him for a moment. Before linking your hand to his arm -as if he'd been walking with you, fingertips just above the crease of the elbow and roaming closer to his side. And perhaps it was improper, but you wished to support him.

"We planned to attend the same schools, live in the same city, it was all rather planned out. When I met Lori..." he responded -echoing a sort of hollow note, "-he seemed to believe I had left him behind."

Mr. Grimes echoed, a little watery, "I knew, I knew... he wished to have a family. Be married, have children... I suppose he thought I stole it from him."

"You must know that you didn't," you soothed, "-your life did not indicate his-"

"I do, I kno'," he exhaled, and something in his voice shook, "-I jus' tried so desperately to explain his actions. To explain... what happened."

"Mr. Grimes," you urged, "-if you're not comfortable, I request-"

"Before Lori left," he continued -a little aimlessly but heavier in tone, "-She became pregnant."

"I cannot imagine the turmoil of something so happy to something so-"

"Ms. Greene," his tone leveled, almost as if he was begging -holding your hands together before you, "-I must request what I say subsequent stays between the parties in this room."

"Of course," you spoke -confident, "-I'd never dream of speaking to something that wasn't mine to share."

"I wouldn't truly mind if it only affected me," he clarified, "-as someone with a fortune, you become to expect some things. But this-"

"Mr. Grimes," you tilted to match his eyes, "-I would never betray your trust so. If you wish it, I shall take it to the grave."

He paused, blue eyes bright smoothing over your face in a rather hazy sort of glance -as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying, "Thank you, Ms. Greene. I-"

"No need," you hummed -soft and delicate, "-I suppose I'd be rather disingenuous if I were to say I love you and expect anything from you for it."

"Ms. Greene-"

"Later," you knew what he wished to speak of, it wasn't the proper time, "-there are more pressing matters that we must address first, okay?"

It bubbled up from his chest as if the words had been waiting -had he never spoken of this? A sort of eruption along his lips, you could almost feel the relief from the breath of the words. It hadn't meant that you had expected them, however.

"Judith... She's-" he moved through them slowly -as if it hurt, "-She's not mine."

[daenysx]

DREAMER GIRL SLEEPOVER | my mind is a mess, how about yours? (finished)

i had terrible focus lately and i barely managed to catch up with my school work and other things, that kinda ended up with me being away from here not writing fics and i intend to fix that <33 please join me, i know you're probably tired from everything so just let this sleepover be an escape for you

characters included;

aemond targaryen

aegon ii targaryen

robb stark

james potter

sirius black

remus lupin

poly!wolfstar

poly!marauders

daryl dixon

rick grimes

here's how it works!

◇ you can send me a concept with one of the characters above and i'll make a moodboard for you

◇ you can send me a time (like 12.00 am) with a character and i'll write a short blurb

◇ you can send me a song lyric you love with a character and i'll write a short blurb inspired by it

◇ you can come to my inbox and tell me anything you want; complain, cry, get angry, laugh or literally anything. this blog is a safe space to share your daily inconveniences, you know i have plenty of them myself

◇ you can recommend a movie, a song, a book, a make up product you love or hate

◇ you can give me a simple scenario with a character and i'll write a blurb

-your asks with characters can be for fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, or angst. i'll make sure to try my best.

-you can send as many asks as you want, but please send them separately

-when you send me an ask about what you think or give me a rec, i'll reply it by telling you my opinion or give you a rec back to make the whole sleepover like a big conversation.

-i don't know how long the sleepover will last, it depends on how much you guys like it and participate, but i'll make sure trying to answer everything you send and i'll let you know before we end it.

thank you for being here with me, i hope we have fun ♡

-dae.

[melanatedeuph0ria]

the boy is mine ⋆˙⟡♡

rick grimes x black!fem! reader

since he’d arrived in alexandria, you and rick have gone from complete strangers to close friends. you’d proven to be extremely useful to his team-after all, you were a great shot and had skin tougher than steel. but now, you’ve started seeing rick in a different, more romantic light. will your newly-developed crush on the police officer be reciprocated as you’d dreamed?

summary: you and rick go on a run for supplies. some hidden feelings get uncovered along the way.

NOTE: this fic takes place in alexandria era BEFORE negan (i’m guessing like s6 bc i forgot)

a/n: MY FIRST FIC EVER AAAAA i’m hoping its ok bc i’m literally just going w the flow lmao

also sorry ts took so fucking long i still have school n stuff guys 🙏🏽😞

genre: fluff, angst, hurt, comfort idk

warnings: blood, zombies, cursing, use of n word, near-death experience

“y/n! you ready to head out?”, rick yelled as he leaned against a silver sedan parked in front of Alexandria’s gates.

after finding yourself caught in a conversation with maggie and glenn, you quickly swooped your head around to acknowledge the gruff man, your eyes widening at the sound of his southern drawl lingering on your name.

“yeah, I’m comin’!” you croaked, creasing your lips into a nervous smile. after a moment, you made your way over to his car, backpack slung over your back.

you and rick were headed to a small, nearby grocery store that an old-time alexandrian claimed was hidden away from the frequent commotion of the town. there was a 50/50 chance that it might’ve or might’ve not been looted, but you both weren’t willing to skimp out on this rare opportunity. after all, the community was running short on food and supplies-it started getting obvious that it was once people were given smaller portion sizes than normal.

and it was you who, stupidly enough, agreed to check out the area with none other than your best friend you’ve been harboring a crush on, rick grimes.

you were intrigued with the man from the moment he stepped foot into alexandria-he lowkey terrified you, him AND his group, but that only sparked your urge to get to know them a bit more. you didn’t actively seek interaction with them- it was by really by circumstance when you had the chance to kinda intermingle with them all. you forgot how you and rick even met each other, to be honest. he knew you were a good shot and had skin tough as nails, that’s for sure. you had grown into something of a maternal figure for Carl, his teenage son, although it took a while for him to finally warm up to you. you couldn’t blame him, to be honest. you knew he’d been through some rough shit-he told you about his mom and what he was forced to do to her after she’d been bitten and just delivered judith, his month-old half-sister. nonetheless, you and rick were both each other’s rocks; he cared for you unlike anyone else in alexandria, and you adored certain things about him-his deep, southern voice when he gently called your name. the traces of vanilla and bourbon cologne left on his clothes despite sweating all day-most of the time he didn’t even bother trying to put it on, but the days he did, you subconsciously noticed. him surprising you with 90’s rnb album CDs that he’d snatched on his runs- once he’d surprised you with a whole erykah badu album, and since then, you’ve kept it under lock and key inside your nightstand. his damp, ruffled hair as he stops by your house for a towel to dry it off because he never seemed to have any of his own; you let him in without much question, of course, but for the past few weeks he’s been on your porch steps, your heart’s been pumping at speeds you’ve never experienced before-at least, not in a while-a zombie apocalypse ruins one’s concept of love when the one you’re in love with can slip from your fingers in a heartbeat.

but could it be? could you really be in love with your best friend in a zombie apocalypse? you were sure of it, but horrified to know if he felt the same, which is why you didn’t even realize your leg was was anxiously bouncing up and down on the floor of the car until…

“y/n. you alright?”

“huh? oh y-yeah, i’m good. what’s wrong?”

“nothin’, you’re just..extra quiet.”

“do i need to start talkin’?” you didn’t mean for that to come off as rude as it did. you were just nervous, nervous about what he’d tell you if you told him how you truly felt.

“no, no, it’s fine. you don’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t feel like it.”

aww shit, now i feel bad, you thought. you tried your hardest not to sink into the car seat in shame so he wouldn’t notice yet another thing off about you today. you tilted your head to the window.

“we made it.” in what seemed like a flash, you and Rick were parked outside the convenience store. did you zone out that hard? not that it mattered anymore. you climbed out of the car and you both took a closer look at the store. it was abandoned all right-at least, it could’ve just looked that way-but it still looked intact. untouched by the world. you hoped that would also apply to whatever awaited inside.

bigger than what i thought it’d be, you thought as you peered at the building.

“bigger than i thought it would be.” rick said aloud.

is this nigga reading my mind..? you thought. “let’s just hope there’s no walkers on the inside.” you said in an attempt to reassure yourself that there were no undead lurking around.

You looked back at Rick for a response or some sort of agreement, but when you did, out of the corner of your eye you saw him damn near snap his neck just to stare back at the store. he cleared his throat loudly. the gesture alone radiated an anxious energy, something you had almost never sensed in the man since knowing him. it was kinda like he was afraid of getting caught…wait…

..was rick staring at you? and how long had you gone without even noticing?

if he was staring, it certainly wasn’t for no reason. you are undoubtedly stunning, so much in fact that some people were envious of your beauty before and during the apocalypse. your rich, brown skin, glistening in the hot, june sun, and your thick, coily hair, pulled into a low puff, were just a few of your most admirable features, both inside and out.

shaking the thought off your mind, you both finally approached the building, carefully peeling open its glass doors and sliding inside. you knew the drill already, but rick felt the need to tell you again, which wasn’t to your surprise at this point. “i’ll take the left side, you take the right. we’ll use our walkies to communicate-if you’re in trouble, i’ll be right there, alright?” you nodded in compliance-you both knew you could handle yourself-but you couldn’t help but bite down a smile when he said that. his low, whispery voice was strangely reassuring, like he cared for you as a lover instead of a friend. you felt your cheeks begin to burn-it’s not really like he could tell anyway, for obvious reasons, but also because it was dark as hell in the store- you assumed the owners didn’t survive long enough to pay the electricity bill.

you were shocked to see that the aisles were just barely looted-you we’re expecting them to show signs of being scavenged at least a bit, but there they were, filled to the brim with food that would just about save Alexandria from starvation.

you clicked on your walkie and held it up to your mouth. “holy shit.” is all that could manage to come out of your mouth right now.

“looks like we hit the jackpot.” rick replied on the on the other line. he already knew what your “holy shit” meant.

with caution, you strolled down the “canned goods” aisle, looking up and down each section in awe. you came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rows, gazing at everything in stock until your eyes settled on a can of peaches. you knew they were probably expired, you expected everything else in there to be, but you were curious to see what the expiration date read on its back, to see how long it’d been since the world went to hell. you held the can in your left hand, examining the date on its back: 10/18/09; it’d been expired a year before the apocalypse even began…

didn’t think it’d be that expired.., you murmured to yourself as you creased your lips into a disgusted frown. just as you began to set the specimen back on the shelf, a loud thud from underneath the rack sent it bouncing upwards, startling you so badly that the can slipped from your fingers and splattered onto the floor into a mushy mess. somehow, there was a walker under there, reaching its pale, maggot-infested limbs out to grasp at your leg. your eyes immediately traveled to the undead as you quickly thought of how you could quickly end its 2nd life. you frantically tugged your imprisoned foot backwards in an attempt to break free, reaching into your leather sheath and pulling out your dagger halfway, but, soon enough, you were met with an even more terrifying scenario. your back clashed violently with the rack behind you, and a walker on the other side, suddenly aroused by the sound and the smell of your human flesh, reached its spindly hand through a wide, open hole in the decaying rack. its hand curled around your throat with enough pressure to keep you pinned to the shelf while you also tried to free your leg from the walker below you.

“RICK, I NEED HELP!” you yelled out into the aisle. it was a risky move and could probably attract even more walkers than what was already threatening you, but you couldn’t get a good grip on your dagger and that was the only weapon you had. calling for backup was the only option you had left.

the oncoming presence of death pricked at prodded at your skin like thorns. the thought that-in that moment, you could be bitten, and all of your hopes and ambitions for the future could immediately be crushed-left you speechless, stricken with terror.

just as the walker grabbing at your neck prepared to take a bite out of it, rick appeared and stabbed it right in its head. just after you finally freed yourself from its grasp, the man noticed the walker on the ground and stomped on its skull, leaving a bloody, mushy mess on the floor, but you were too panicked to even notice.

an exasperated sigh escaped your mouth. “oh my God, rick, you’re a lifesaver-“

your rushed, panicky words were interrupted when he suddenly crashed his lips onto yours. your eyes immediately widened at the sensation of his coarse lips pressing onto yours, soft and plump, then slowly fluttered shut. your breathing, at first rapid and filled with anxiety, had simmered down into slow and steady breaths as his lips passionately devoured yours. almost subconsciously, he trailed his right hand, roughened with scars and calluses, on the nape of your neck, holding you closer than ever before as he rested his left hand on your hip. his ocean blue eyes drifted shut as he explored you, desperate for your touch, before he slowly pulled away from the kiss to give you some time to breathe. you fluttered your eyes back open and waited for him to look up at you.

“i’m-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, just so randomly. fuck…” rick babbled rapid apologies before a frustrated, shaky sigh escaped from his mouth. without thinking, you cupped his cheek, burning with the embarrassment of his decision, and leaned into him, rewarding him with a kiss of your own; it only seemed fair after he saved your life and your heart in only a matter of seconds. his eyes fluttered shut at your touch as your other hand tangled into his neatly combed hair. you let the feeling of your lips gently pressed together linger for a few seconds before you slowly pulled away. you felt your heart buzzing with excitement but also with relief, now that you knew that he’d been storing feelings for you this entire time. a confident grin appeared on your face as you looked up at him.

“i like you too, grimes.”

-the end. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[whateverisbeautiful]

If Rick was around for the birth of their son do you think they still would’ve named him after Rick? I think at the time it was cute but im also one of those ppl that don’t like the concepts of juniors or naming kids after other characters (like Hershel) I feel like it’s just the easy way to go and just relies on nostalgia almost. I also just would’ve liked to see what names they would’ve thought of instead

I definitely don’t think they would have still named their baby Rick if Rick hadn’t been taken. Both Rick and Michonne seem like they would’ve been more drawn to the idea of giving their son a different name of his own. Circumstances had a major influence on RJ being named after Rick, because Michonne understandably wanted to honor Rick’s memory and give RJ a special piece of the dad that he, at the time, was possibly never going to meet. Under that situation, I actually really like that RJ got to be his dad’s namesake and that it connected this son and father even before they’d meet. I would be curious what other names Rick and Michonne might’ve come up with instead together. Now that all we know him as is RJ, I can’t picture him with any other name but Rick Grimes Jr. 😊

[dixonsfawn]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦 — send in any character from my masterlist + a scenario , aesthetic , or colour for a moodboard.

rick grimes with a lil dolly wife, i want to see cute domestic mb can be in canonverse or not idc <333

[bugsyfics]

✰ [ kinktober '23 & '24 m. list ] ✰

-> welcome, you've been granted exclusive access to this October's spiciest VHS collection. indulge in your most daring fantasies and become immersed in sinful stories that will leave you gasping and crying out in pleasure terror!

quick a.n.: I've finally had some time and inspiration to write (yay!!) and im so excited to share my love for kinktober once again. This masterlist has been split between 2 years because I love this concept, and I need to make one hell of a comeback. You may also notice a new addition of the SW fandom

⚠︎ disclaimer: this is 18+, so mdni. Also, these dates are subject to change, but I am making it my upmost priority to see that all of these will be completed

▸ 10 : 04 | ❝ VIRGINITY KINK ❞

STARRING: SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS & READER

▸ 10 : 08 | ❝ PERVERSION + PANTY THIEF ❞

STARRING: NOZEL SILVA & READER

▸ 10 : 13 | ❝ PRIMAL PLAY ❞

STARRING: DARYL DIXON & READER

▸ 10 : 18 | ❝ THREESOME + MASTER KINK ❞

STARRING: ANAKIN SKYWALKER, OBI-WAN KENOBI, & READER

▸ 10 : 22 | ❝ SEX TAPE + AGE GAP + SQUIRTING ❞

STARRING: RICK GRIMES & READER

▸ 10 : 27 | ❝ WAX PLAY + PRAISE ❞

STARRING: UNDERTAKER & READER

▸ 10 : 31 | ❝ ORAL/GAG REFLEX TRAINING ❞

STARRING: NEGAN & READER

Ready to press play?

[lucilleslore]

- being with rick but also being the biggest brat known to man <3

you’re forever disobeying his orders and purposely winding him up. you can’t find anything else that gives you the same feeling that he does when he glares at you, his jaw clenching with the promise of what will happen to you later glinting in his eyes. he’s definitely a harsh punisher and there’s a rare occasion you take it bravely with weepy eyes and ‘’m sorry’ given over to him willingly. most of the time though your attitude continues on through it, telling him he can do better as he brings his hand down on your ass harshly. the only way for him to really put you in your place is to fuck it right out of you until you’re trembling in his arms, all traces of your previous mood gone.

however, this all changes when he starts spending time away from alexandria to go on runs etc. missing him turns you needy and as soon as he gets back to your home you jump into his arms, one of his shirts clinging to your frame. you’re eager and clingy, big eyes pleading with him to make you feel better. rick is usually tired and he’ll sink into the sofa, tapping his thigh for you. ‘c’mere sweetheart,’ he’d urge, eyes alight with adoration as you get yourself comfortable on his lap. ‘see, you can be a good girl when you wanna be, can’t you?’

[shrenvents]

Haunting Fear of the Dead

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, implied (small) age gap, survivors guilt etc

Pairing: Rick Grimes x reader

Summary: Negan’s aftermath served as the last straw to instill in you, the belief that nothing lasts forever.

Word count: 1k

...

The conversation rings in the back of my mind, and your face dominates my thoughts. That despairing, lost expression still makes me wonder whether I crossed the line.

Life is moving too fast, and the overwhelming concept of inevitable death, and her vivid memory haunt me.

The idea, that you may see her in my eyes...

Things fall apart, and I'll never be her.

I knew Lori for no more than a week before she died. And now I've known you for several years, yet she hasn't left my side. Has she left yours?

Your wife and I couldn't be more different.

A troubled, younger girl, who can't help how unloveable she feels. How vulnerable I am. How susceptible I am to doubt. Versus the mother of your child. Your woman before the fall.

How can I compare? How can you love me? After this tragedy and loss, how can I return your love?

Maybe these are all the things I should’ve conveyed, but the moments gone, and I’ll never get you back Rick.

…

"If ya sigh one more time girl, I'll smack you," Daryl intimidates passively, and I snap my obscure stare at him below my post. Then, looking at the world outside these metal walls, one last time, I turn to the ladder. "Call Rosita, I'm tired."

"Nuh-uh, if I'm here all night, so are ya," He challenges, catching my gaze. He holds it before scoffing in defeat, obviously feeling guilty, after viewing my sorrowful appearance.

As I pass him, he grips my forearm. "I know things are bad right now, but yer a survivor," he murmurs, full of pity. "And if ya ain't gonna believe in yerself, believe in Rick." He trails off, and I nod to make him loosen his grip, so I may walk away.

Things just blew over with the Saviours, now that Negan is behind bars. But regardless, death plagues my conscience. How can I think my happiness is important, or everlasting when my survival is just dumb luck?

Ending things with Rick rang so much truth to that.

Now lonely and isolated, I only have myself to blame. Since confusion and indecision left my bed empty, my head is full of profuse distress.

To this day, after weeks, I'm still unsure of what I was trying to achieve -what I was running from, and why was it him?

No, I know...

I feel it again, her looming behind me. Lori. Whispering stories of their pleasant life together before Walkers existed.

Her ghost regularly tells me how life would be different if it wasn't the end times. She remarks how Rick wouldn't look my way if I wasn't his only option.

My rapid imagination slows to silence when I pass his house. I picture Carl on his porch bouncing Judith to sleep, and misery brutally latches onto me, forcing me to remember what is lost.

'You left him when he needed you the most...' Lori breathes.

Tears prick my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to reduce its trembling. Then, a call of my name drags me out of the dark, and I seek out its source.

"Rick?" I reply, swallowing my cry and straightening my back. Blinking frantically, I assess him as he marches towards me, seeing concern playing across his features.

'Good things aren't meant to last...'

"How are you?" I croak.

"Fine," he stammers slightly, "you?"

"I'm well," I lie pathetically, and even though he clearly doesn't believe me, he accepts my response nonetheless.

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the wall?" He questions hesitantly.

"Yeah, but Rosita offered to take over, to let me rest you know?" I murmur with a shrug like I'm asking him to confirm my lies. He nods again, seeming just as awkward. "Need me to walk you back?" Rick proposes, motioning his pointer in the direction of my place. "No," I utter flatly, far too fast. He gulps, unable to hide his dejected manner.

A beat later I wordlessly amble away, but he hollers my name again, and I freeze, whirling around, brows furrowing. "Can I walk you back?" He urges this time, and his dilated pupils hold such fervour and desperation, that I give in. "Okay," muttering, I look to the ground as he jogs to my side.

Walking closely together, we're uncomfortably quiet. I peer at him and see his eyes squeezed shut as he inhales, expanding his chest to its limit.

"Rick?" I mumble. His eyelids pop open, and he swivels his head to mine, brows raised.

"Why are you," exhaling, "forcing yourself to-" I cut myself short, and he grasps my meaning. "I'm not forcing myself to do anything," Rick rasps. "If anything, I'm forcing you, to be with me," he drops my befuddled stare. "I'm sorry," he grunts.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I splutter as a wave of grief, racks through me. "I'm the one with problems," my meek voice gets choppy.

The pace of his legs falter. "Problems," he echoes, puffing a soundless laugh in disbelief. "Problems I want to hear," he more or less pleads. I faintly shake my head.

When I stagger, Rick stops moving completely, and captures my hand, yanking me squarely to him. I take in how alarmed his features appear and again, wish I was alone so I could cry.

"C'mon beautiful, talk to me," he begs, cupping my hand in both his palms, and when he utters my name of endearment, I finally break.

Liquid flows down my cheeks, and Rick, with his thumbs, hopelessly tries to sweep them aside. But the more his rough pads graze my skin, and he pulls me closer, adorning me with such affection, the more tears stream.

He wraps his sturdy arms around my smaller frame, tugging me tightly to his chest, and I collapse into him. He holds me upright when my knees buckle, and simply lets me cry.

"I broke up with you, why on Earth are you consoling me?" I sob, words escaping my mouth in messy bundles.

Sighing, "Because I love you," Rick's voice grows rocky, "and I hate to break it to you," he chokes up, "that isn't gonna change, just 'cause ya don't feel the same."

His statement makes a louder cry erupt. But, I struggle to muster the courage to dispel, the third lie told tonight.

Of course I love him.

"I'm here, always," he soothes, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck, and I feel water drip onto my nape.

As my arms encase his shaking body, Lori materializes behind me.

Reminding me, for the hundredth time:

I don't deserve Rick Grimes, and I never will.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood

Chapter: 3.07

“Aunt y/n! Aunt y/n!” Carl runs towards you holding a green balloon in the shape of a dog; he shows you it proudly. “Look what my dad made me; it’s so cool.”

Smiling, you ruffle his hair. Being surrounded by screaming kids with sticky hands and zero concept of personal space was your idea of hell, but it was worth it to see Carl enjoying his sixth birthday party. His friends from school and a few from his soccer team had attended the party being held in your brother's backyard, and now that the sugar rush and excitement of new toys were catching up with your nephew, his eyes were becoming a lot heavier as his friends started to be picked up by their parents.

You smile, feeling Shane’s lips brush against the curve of your ear. “You want to bail out soon? The little man looks as if he’s about to crash soon, and Lori will rope us into cleaning up.”

“Hmm, what are you thinking?”

Chucking, he kisses the side of your head and then your cheek. “I’m thinking of taking my pretty girl out for dinner and a late-night movie.”

You motion to the cooler full of ice cubes and bottles of beer sitting on the opposite end of the wooden table you were standing beside. “Do you think we could sneak a few of those with us for the movie?”

“That would be stealing, ma’am.”

“Well, I know a few ways to keep out of trouble, deputy.”

Standing up, you smooth out your yellow sundress just as your brothers walk by with a couple of on-duty cops who had dropped by to suck up to Rick by giving Carl a gift. You smile politely at them before leaning back into Shane’s embrace and quietly asking, “You still don’t like them, huh?”

“Rivers and Young?” He finished the dregs in his cup. “The kids have a lot to learn; I wouldn’t want them answering a call for my mom or my girl.”

You knew Shane wasn’t saying this lightly; he often gave rookies the benefit of the doubt.

Groggily, you stare up at the ceiling, feeling devoid of any real emotion as you think back on old memories. Once you had fought to push to the back of your mind because you found thinking of the chain of events that came from that party so upsetting. Jace’s babbling pulls you from your trail of thought. He crawls up onto you, his saliva drooling onto your top. “Thanks, kid.”

He babbles some more, as if he were communicating in his own way.

“Yeah, yeah.” You tickle Jace’s cheek with his finger. His smile lightens your mood slightly. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done, you know that?”

You slide your fingers over Jace’s dark hair as he leans his head on your chest. Sighing, you close your eyes again, but the peacefulness only lasts for a few moments. The second you hear the noise of crutches tapping against the prison flooring, you open your eyes and sit upright.

“Is everything okay, Hershel?”

“How’s your leg feeling today?”

When you returned to the prison, Hershel stitched up your leg to stop the bleeding, but there wasn’t anything he gave you to help ease the pain. “It feels as if it’s getting better, thanks.”

The older man leans against the cell doorway, his eyes crinkled with exhaustion. “I just thought you would want to know Glenn took Carl looking for the breach. They’ve just come back.”

—

You stormed to the other side of the cellblock, where most of your group was gathered. Beth was humming to your niece, Judith, while Glenn explained that they didn’t find the breach. Maggie looks up, surprised when she sees you looking so irritated. She forces a smile. “How’s the little stinker doing?”

“Happy to see you,” you hand her Jace before turning to glare at Glenn. “I told you not to take Carl with you.”

Glenn lets out a frustrated sigh. “Y/n, we need to find this breach fast. For all we know, our home could be filled up with walkers or the governor's men at any moment.”

“Exactly, which is exactly why you shouldn’t have taken a thirteen-year-old with you. Carl’s just a kid!” You wave your arm between the two of them and say, "Look at how much blood you are covered in. How many walkers did you need to kill just to get out?”

Glenn shakes his head. Instead of bonding over the trauma you had gone through together, the experience was causing friction between you. Your friendship with Glenn meant a great deal to you, but keeping Jace, Carl, and Judith safe was the most important thing.

Hershel tries to intervene and calmly says, “I still think we should go; we still have time.“

“For the last time, we aren’t running!” Glenn snaps, frustrated.

“We should have grabbed things and left last night; this place isn’t worth dying over.” In your mind, the only reason you had to stay was waiting on Daryl coming back, but you had no idea when he would return, and by then you might have all been slaughtered like cattle by the governor. “We survived living on the road before without any transport. This time, we have multiple cars to use.”

“Last time Hershel had two legs, we didn’t have a screaming baby.”

“What are you even talking about? Jace was with us the entire time, and we survived.”

“Yeah, but we got lucky with Jace not being able to hear loud noises.”

“What did you just say?”

Glenn stares at you with his mouth agape. You glance at Carol and Maggie, who both lower their heads. You are in a constant state of denial, refusing to accept the reality of your situation. Jace’s hearing wasn’t what it should be, but hearing Glenn say it so harshly, it feels like a physical blow to the gut, as if he'd punched you.

“Y/n-”

You lick at your dry lips, then turn to face Carl and say, “From now on, you only listen to me or your dad.”

Carl looks like he wants to protest, but he nods without saying anything. You take Jace from Maggie, and in a softer tone, you say, “Right, munchkin, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Y/n” Glenn calls out, “I just meant—”

“Seriously, just leave it.”

—

Standing outside, you lean against one of the cars, watching your brother mumble to himself while wandering outside the prison gates. You had tried to get him to come back inside, but he wasn’t listening. You had left Jace inside to play with the toys Daryl had found under the watchful eyes of Beth. You were well beyond being hacked off; Rick was so damn busy chasing ghosts to even notice how much you needed him; and Daryl was gone. You knew why he was gone, but you were growing tired of feeling so alone.

Hearing voices, you look over your shoulder and see Hershel chasing after Glenn on his crutches. “You’re not going back to Woodbury, are you?”

“No. I’m just going out there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hershel offers.

“I got it.”

“By yourself? How can you possibly think that’s a good idea?”

“I can’t just sit on my hands,” he resorts defensively. “I’ve got to do something to keep Maggie and everyone else here safe. I’ve already failed once.”

“Glenn, nobody blames you for what happened to you and y/n. There was no way you could have known what would happen; there was no way to prevent it.”

“With Daryl gone and Rick wandering crazy towns, I’m the next in charge.”

“Like hell you are,” you frown, making your presence known. “You want to keep Maggie safe, then be here to do it. I get that you’re mad and frustrated because I’m the exact same, but we can’t be making rash decisions.”

Glenn brushes by you and opens the car door without saying a word.

“We’ve already lost Shane, Lori, T-dog... I don’t want you to be the next person we lose.”

Without even glancing back at you and Hershel, he drives off.

—

You and Rick exchange a look as Hershel tries to talk some sense into him, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he was too far gone to register the advice on grief the older man was giving him. Sighing, you go to the wired-up hole in the fence and start to untie it. You’d be damned if you were leaving him as walker bait any longer; he might not have listened to you before, but now you weren’t giving him a choice.

“Y/n, stay behind the fence. It’s dangerous out here.”

“No shit-”

A bullet whizzes past your ear, narrowly missing as it skims the top of your shoulder. The sound of gunfire fills the air as you frantically scan the area for the source. Adrenaline pumping, you grab hold of Hershel and pull him with you as you drop to the ground, heart racing in your chest.

Your brother's pained voice echoes loudly, “y/n!”

You feel the heat from where the bullet grazed your skin, leaving a burning sensation. Your vision blurs momentarily as you struggle to focus amidst the chaos.

“Rick, you need to get back inside the fence!”

Using the long grass of the field in the prison yard as cover, you roll onto your stomach and peak up to see the direction of the shooter and see three different men. The governor is one of them.

Son of a bitch.

Rick was pinned down, and you could hear bullets coming from the opposite side of the courtyard, which meant they had someone right outside the prison. The governor was firing bullets into the air; the way he was wasting bullets meant he had a vast supply. You watch in horror as a van crashes through the fence, and you duck down lower to avoid being seen by hun.

The stench of decay hits your nose, and at the same time, the sound of snarling hits your ears, and you realize the drivers realized walkers into the field.

“Y/n, Hershel, get the hell out of there!”

Hershel fires at the undead, trying his best to keep them at bay. Knowing you don’t have many bullets left, you grip the cold, rusted pole that’s lying on the ground and use it to stab Walker in the head. With so many undead people surrounding him, the governor and his men retreat.

“Fuck, there are too many of them!”

More walkers enter the field, attracted by all the noise, their eyes filled with hunger and malice. You can see their twisted limbs and rotting skin as they approach. Another wave of dread courses through you when you hear another vehicle course through, but thankfully it was Glenn returning and not another van full of walkers.

He pulls the truck over, and Michonne, who you didn’t even realize was in the field, jumps inside, then Glenn drives it over to where you are. Hearing a cry for help, watch as Rick backs up against the fence, trying to fight off multiple walkers at once.

“No, no, no!” You try to run to him, but Glenn and Michonne drag you back and force you into the truck. “We need to go back; we can’t leave him!”

“He’s not alone!”

When the vehicle approaches the prison yard, Maggie and Carl open the gate to let the truck through. Soon as it stops, you jump and hug Carl. “Are you okay? You hurt?”

“No, but you are.”

“I’m okay, we’re okay.” You look around and notice Axel’s body laying on the ground, he had been shot in the head. “Carl, go back instead and stay with Jace and Judith, okay?”

“I’ll go with him,” Beth says, and the two of them go back inside.

You walk as close as you can to the fence without a walker being able to reach you through the holes, and you watch as Daryl and Merle fight off walkers alongside your brother.

Glenn taps your good shoulder and says, “You should get inside so Hershel can check you over.”

“I’ll wait… Thanks for saving our asses.”

“Always,” he says, giving you a knowing look. “What the hell happened?”

“Whatever this was, it’s only the beginning.”

[apocalypticanon]

Got this fuckin' brain worm of a cegan fic concept that I keep tossing around.

Basically Carl keeps sneaking out at night to meet with Negan, they take his car and drive just outside of city limits and most of the time their late nights end up with Carl a pathetic, sobbing mess and Negan cumming down his throat.

Then one night as Negan is pulling on the boys hair and thinking about how fucking good it feels to throat fuck him, he catches sight of a officer making his way over and as quickly as he can his buttoning his pants and pushing Carl back further into the floorboard and halfheartedly tossing a jacket over him and who else would it be but Rick Grimes. Shining his flashlight into his car and telling him he can't park there, wholly unaware that his son is trying to be as quite as possible as he gets off on the idea of his daddy finding out just how much of a mess he is.

Idk man,, it's good shit.

[itsgrimeytime]

i found a home in you (part one) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x f!Winchester!reader (SPN)

1...

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz @deadgirlrin

AVAILABLE ON AO3

|| Crossover between TWD and SPN ||

Requested by @twostepandhalf

Summary: At the start of the apocalypse (one of many you'd been a part of), you and your brothers got separated. So, you roamed the new world on your own, searching for them. You just knew they were alive, so you kept yourself alive too. That and looking for them were your main priorities. Well, until you run into a group and meet a man you can't quite get out of your head.

TWs: cursing, anti-john winchester, lil bit of misogyny, injuries, blades, guns, threatening someone's life, all things TWD and SPN.

[[A/N: so this is my personal trifecta. I am in love with this concept. This is so exciting for me, it's all my favoritesssss. I hope the audience who will read this enjoys :))) ]]

Personally, you'd always thought if the world went to shit, you would be with your brothers. It just seemed natural, the three (recently four) of you against whatever monster of the week it was. You'd kind of gotten used to it, to them.

When you were growing up, John (he was never a Dad, especially not yours) dropped you off at Bobby's. Not in the every once in awhile way, like your brothers, he left you there. Something about you being a little girl, like he could condition Sam and Dean, but not you. Because you were a girl.

(Despite what John thought, Bobby did teach you the way of a hunter. After letting you be a kid, though.)

You saw your brothers a lot when you were young, mostly because John disappeared and would drop them off while he did... whatever the hell he did. Hunt, supposedly. And yeah, it got spotty when you were older, Sammy going to college, and Dean stuck to John's side.

But, then, the fateful day came.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

It all started from there, the three of you stuck like glue. You'd seen their highs and lows, and they had seen yours right back. Your group grew to include a few more faces, and then maybe it shrunk again because of... because people didn't last forever.

All that to say, when the world went to shit, you were with them. Always. Every time. (Even sometimes when they didn't want you to be.)

Except for now.

You'd gone out on a solo hunt. Maybe to clear your head? You couldn't remember. Sam and Dean didn't want you to go, but they were overprotective, big brothers, they never wanted you to go. You told them you'd be fine and would be back in a few weeks, at most.

Long story short, the world went to shit, and you were far away from the bunker. Far away from your brothers.

The thought of it all still made you sick to your stomach. At first, you thought you could make it back to the bunker -just kinda on instincts. Follow the road sort of thing.

And then, your car ran out of gas.

You liked to think that you'd know the land of one state from another, but after a few days of endless trees and the stretch of pavement, you realize that you 100% didn't.

So, your priorities shifted, and you readied up for the long haul. Because somewhere in your chest, you could tell this apocalypse might just be the one that sticks.

With your luck anyway.

You tugged on the thin tree branch, snapping it off the trunk. Your eyes skimmed across the sky, trying to track the sun -the hours of sunlight were important now. Sometimes you missed sleeping in though, you'll admit.

Letting out a long sigh, you gathered up your wood collection and shoved it into your backpack -one you'd spotted in a strip mall. Otherwise, you had your duffle, full of all the... other stuff. Hunting stuff.

Surprisingly, you didn't need a lot of it now. Just an old army knife, kept in your pocket was reminiscent of that life. Dean gave it to you, a long time ago.

Huddling into the little shack you'd found by the road (well, in between a shack and a barn really), you put them all down and pulled out some matches.

It was the hot, humid kind of season then, but still, the night got cold. And if there's one thing you couldn't handle right now, it was getting sick. So, you made a fire -despite the heat feeling a little like it was stuck to your skin. Like maybe you'd never wash it off.

You didn't really think you'd wash any of this off.

Satisfied with the fire, you pulled yourself against the worn wooden walls, tilting your chin up to the sky. Your eyes flicked across the rusted metal roof -eying the scratches and buffs. And with a breath, you closed your eyes for a second.

That was the thing, living in this new world, you were always on edge. Survival mode. Before with Sam and Dean, you had a safe place. Motels, the bunker, Baby. And even if you didn't have a roof over your head, you had them.

They wouldn't let anything hurt you, just like you wouldn't let anything hurt them. And it made you... Without them, it made you afraid. For the first time in a long time, you had no one to watch your back.

So, you lived everyday with heightened senses and numbness to everything that wasn't hunger. You actually don't think you've spoken in weeks, it was a little like you reverted. Like you were how humans were in the beginning, primitive, hunter-gatherers. The shit you see on the nature channel.

On that thought, you opened your eyes back up and pulled your backpack forward -digging through the pockets. Gnawing at your lip, you eyed your rations. It wasn't a lot, you'd probably have to be on the look for more soon. That, or you could spread what you did have over the next few days.

Without another thought, you pulled out a can and with the ease of a breath, pried it open. It was some sort of beans, you didn't really care at this point. Food was food.

Quietly, you ate.

Every time you did though, you missed Dean's food. When he'd cook for everybody. It wasn't just some can of beans-

You turned the can in your hands, eying the label. Not one you'd ever seen before, but yeah, some sort of beans. Baked beans. The kind of stuff you get at a barbecue. You could nearly hear the squeaky styrofoam plates and the smell of charcoal. (The whole thing sent something through you that felt a little like nostalgia and a little like grief.)

Briefly, you wondered if they were healthy. If Sam would tell you they weren't and try to convince you to eat something else. Maybe he'd even snatch them from you.

Would they have even left the bunker? Was that not the safest place in the world?

Well, by now, they would have. You'd been gone for months at this point. Or you think so anyway. (You had been counting, but just lost the point of it.) And realistically, they probably went out to look for you after maybe two weeks. If that.

God, you could imagine them now. Those pinched faces they get when they're worried, Dean ready to kill everything in his way, and Sam with his ever-present hope. You could really picture what Dean was probably saying at this point.

"We're in a damn zombie movie, Sammy!"

You laughed at that, swirling your spoon (you had a few) around your can.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could perfectly picture them. Dean nursing a beer, flicking through channels in his 'Dean-cave', Cas beside him (trying to follow along with his explanations), and Sam, with at least 5 books on the table in front of him, engrossed in whatever case he'd found.

That was the nice thing about the bunker, the quiet little things and at the same time the hum of people, of family.

You missed it now.

As you sat by your fire, in walls that weren't the bunker's, eating something that your brother hadn't made, you missed it.