#saving shane for last is keeping me going

[squeanet]

the funny guys are almost complete !

1 / 2

[evilmenenjoyer]

Dead-end roads.

Pairing: Shane Walsh x fem!Reader.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: age gap (legal, reader is 24 years old and Shane is somewhere in his mid-late 30s), drinking, drunk sex (as in both parties are drunk), rough sex, gratuitous use of the word "kid" as a pet name, grief and implications of past familial abuse. Both of them are a mess basically.

A/N: thank you so much to the anon who requested age gap Shane/Reader! I had so many ideas I had to split them into different parts or this would've been ridiculously long, so let me know if you would like to see part 2!

You, Shane, trauma, and way too much booze for your own good. What could possibly go wrong?

–––

Sneaking out of the camp was easy. Dale likes to keep watch on top of his RV, but even he can’t see everything, and when you’re determined to leave a place even trained eyes can’t seem to catch you. With everyone else busy trying to recover from the massacre and digging graves for the dead, it felt like the perfect opportunity.

The graves. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch them do it, much less to step in and help. Four deaths just last night; Ed, Amy, a man whose name you regret not memorizing. And your mother.

You haven’t shed a single tear yet.

Instead, you find yourself alone in the heart of Atlanta, in the apartment you used to live. Your legs dangle from the edge of the tiny balcony, and in your hand you clutch a half-empty bottle of vodka. It’s cheap, the kind you can’t hold back a grimace every time you swallow, but it gets the job done — and more importantly, quickly. Five big gulps in and you can’t even taste it anymore.

The city looks so eerie from up here, empty and dead silent save for the distant groans of walkers below. Every now and again you’ll see one drag itself along the street, aimlessly making its way into one of the nearby buildings or further into the city, oblivious to your presence ten stories above. You briefly entertain the thought of tossing the cap of the bottle down into the concrete, just to see if you could hit one of them from this distance, if they’ll be smart enough to look up and spot you.

Just as you’re considering the pros and cons, the sliding door behind you opens.

Your heart jumps inside your chest and it feels like the vodka hits you all at once, making the world spin and blur around you. You whip your head towards the sound, your eyes taking a second longer to catch up to the movement and to make sense of the shape invading your vision.

“Shane,” you gasp, half in surprise and half in relief. Not a walker. You don’t want to think about how, if it was one, you’d have nowhere to run to except maybe jumping down and taking your chances with the pavement. “What are you doing here?”

“Lookin’ for you. What else would I be doing here?” Shane looks pissed, like he can’t decide whether he wants to snap at you right now or if he should wait until you’re not half-hanging out of the frail balcony fence. He draws in a deep breath, seemingly in an attempt to calm himself down. “You can’t just sneak out like that. We were worried.”

“Sorry.”

You’re not sorry. You don’t even try to sound sorry. You bring the bottle to your lips, swallowing down a mouthful of vodka that goes down your throat like liquid fire. You only vaguely feel it, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep.

Of course Shane would know you’d be here. None of the other remaining survivors in the group would know where to look, but he’s not just any stranger you’ve been camping with for the sake of survival. He had rescued you and your mother from this very place in his departure from Atlanta, before the bombs from the military started coming down on the city.

Shane crouches down beside you, his eyes taking note of the bottle but not lingering on it.

“We’re leaving the camp today,” he tells you. You don’t react save for a tiny nod around another sip of vodka.

“Where to?”

“CDC, or Fort Benning. We’re still working it out.”

You don’t voice your opinion; both sound fruitless to you. Silence stretches on for long enough that he must get the hint, because he takes the opportunity to say, “You’re coming with us.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine here,” you reply, your words slurred as the alcohol works its way through your system.

“You can’t be serious.” He rubs at his face, the same exasperation in his gesture as in his voice. “You’d die in a week, kid.”

The pet name instantly gets on your nerves, even if he’s called you that since the day he met you.

“I come here all the time and I’m still not dead.”

“For supply runs. How the fuck do you expect to live here? All alone? Look around you,” he gestures to the street below, where a walker crosses the street towards an abandoned store. “You’ve never even killed a walker.”

“I can learn.”

“It ain’t that simple.”

“How hard can it be? Everyone else does it.” You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you went from buzzed to drunk, but you realize now you’ve crossed that line a long time ago. Your voice goes from soft and nonchalant to increasingly, irrationally annoyed at his concern. “‘Sides, if I’m that useless why’d you want me to come along? I’d just slow you down.”

The worst is you know he has a point. You’re not a fighter; never have been, really. Your entire life, the one thing stopping you from becoming a sitting target was your ability to run, both literally and figuratively. You’re fast, sneaky, crafty. Qualities that have served you well, but they can only take you so far in this new brutal world. What happens when you can’t run? What happens when someone else is cornered and you can do nothing to help them?

There’s still blood from last night under your nails, no matter how hard you scrubbed your hands clean at the river.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

The words, the genuine, unexpected gentleness of his tone, it feels like a knife being jammed into your stomach. You only shake your head, unable to look at him; unable to, even now, admit that you can’t decide whether you’re devastated or relieved that she’s gone. That that woman was capable of leaving you with the deepest scars without ever laying a finger on you.

You stare down at the street. You still don’t cry.

“She would’ve wanted you to keep going,” Shane insists.

Your eyes finally meet his. “You clearly didn’t know my mother, Shane.”

You watch the surprise in his eyes as he tries to make sense of it. Still, he doesn’t relent. He pushes himself back to his feet.

“Come on, we need to go while there’s still daylight.” When you don’t move nor give any indication that you’ve heard him, you feel a hand circle around your forearm.

“I said no!” You yank your arm back like he burned you, even though the touch was gentle. “You’re not a cop anymore. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I sure fucking can when you’re bein’ a danger to yourself.” He grabs you again, this time firmly enough to pull you to your feet. You stumble, too drunk for something as simple as balancing yourself. “Let’s go.”

You do the only thing that crosses your mind — you swing the bottle at him.

It doesn’t break. There’s just not enough power in the movement, no real intention to hurt him; you just want him to let go. It hits him on the shoulder, splashing vodka everywhere as it falls and crashes into a million pieces in the pavement below.

The crash is so loud in the silent city.

Shane’s got you back inside the apartment in an instant, in the bedroom that was once yours. You thrash around in his arms like a wild animal, the differences in strength between you and Shane as well as the alcohol running through your veins making your attempts at best comically futile.

“Stop! Christ, the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“It’s pointless, Shane!” You keep on fighting even when you know you’re overpowered, when you can barely move against his grasp. “I’m dying either way! What difference does it make if I die here or at Fort Benning or wherever the fuck!?”

“You ain’t dying, that’s what I’m tryna stop from happening!” He’s got you effectively trapped, your back pressed against the wall and his arm across your chest. “Why do you gotta be so fucking stubborn?”

You try to move away; you can’t. His arm applies pressure across your chest, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s just how close he is — close enough that you can feel the body heat emanating off him, your faces inches from touching. You can see every pore on his skin, the light stubble starting to grow, the way his nostrils flare with anger.

“You think you’re the only one who lost someone?” he says. “We all did. And you’re the only one needin’ to be cared for like a little kid.”

“Who did you lose?” you snap back. “Far as I can see, everyone you love is doing just fine. That boy, your girlfriend. Even your buddy came back to steal her away.”

He pushes you even harder against the wall for that, his muscles flexing with how impossibly tight he’s gripping you. Your breath caught in your throat, you try to kick him away only to find his knees also trapping your legs in place, so much of his body pressed flush to yours it’s making you a little dizzy.

“You gonna drag me back, or are you gonna fuck me?” you ask, all drunken defiance and bravado. There’s no way a sentence like that would ever leave your lips if not for the copious amounts of alcohol clouding your judgment. “‘Cause I’m getting some mixed signals here.”

You can tell you’ve caught him off-guard, but neither of you have an opportunity to react to what you’ve just said. Somewhere in the hallway, there’s a bang as something is pushed to the floor, followed by the unmistakable groans and heavy footsteps of a walker.

Shane spins you around so fast you nearly fall over again. His arm circles around your waist, and before you can even think to object, his free hand clamps over your mouth.

He drags you both into the walk-in closet, closing the door as silently as he can. It’s a dark, cramped space, the mess of clothes making it feel even smaller. Shane’s right behind you, his chest molded against your back and arms wrapped around you, his hand still covering your mouth even though you wouldn’t dare to make a sound.

All you can do is listen: Shane’s breath so close to your ear, your own racing heartbeats inside your chest, the walker that has now found its way into the bedroom.

For a few long moments you’re both still as statues, listening in to the sounds outside the closet. Your mind races with the worst possible outcomes; what if there’s more than one walker? What if they realize you’re both here, with no way to escape except for the same door you came in from? What if you both end up dead, and it’s all your fault for coming back here in the first place?

Seconds stretch into minutes that stretch into what feels like an eternity. The walker — or walkers — circles the room quite a few times, in no rush to leave. At some point, you see its shadow right in front of the door, standing there for several beats before it finally, finally walks away.

Shane waits even longer, until you’re certain you can’t hear anything on the other side. Only then does he slowly unwrap his hand from your mouth. He reaches for the door, still holding onto you, pushing it open just enough that he can peek out at the bedroom.

“I think it’s gone,” he whispers. “It probably went to the other room, but we can—”

He looks at you, and his voice dies out in his throat when he realizes you’re weeping.

You don’t know when it began, but the tears just keep on coming, rolling down your cheeks and into your shirt. They’re silent save for a few quick pauses for air, and your body shakes ever so slightly with your sobs, so soft and subtle it could’ve just been mistaken for fear if he couldn’t see your face. You want it to stop, to get your shit together or at least hide from Shane, stop him from watching you fall apart like this.

His grip around your waist loosens, but doesn’t release you. Instead, he carefully wraps his other arm around you as well, cradling you in an embrace.

It’s like the final pillar holding you together crumbles, and you let it all pour out of you, all those emotions you don’t even know how to name taking the shape of tears. Shane feels like a warm blanket at your back, reminding you that things can still feel good, somehow, in the midst of so much sorrow. He coaxes you to turn around to face him, and you immediately burrow your face into his chest, arms clinging to him like a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” he shushes, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“You can’t know that,” you breathe, your voice quieter than a whisper, but he hears you.

“Yeah, I can. Y’know why?” He pulls back just enough to see your face, the gun callouses on his fingertips scratching your skin when he wipes away a tear. “‘Cuz I’ll be right here the whole time, and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

You know it’s an empty promise, that this is something he can’t possibly guarantee. But he says it so earnestly, like really means it. And, for a moment, you let yourself believe it, let him pull you out of the closet and into an imaginary world where things will be okay.

.

CDC was the right choice, after all. It’s disheartening to see it empty rather than bustling with doctors and scientists, but there’s electricity, there’s hot water, and there’s dinner with plenty of food and wine, and that’s more than you could ask for.

You continue the party in the room you’ve claimed as your own, with yet another bottle you managed to sneak from the cabinet. It takes you nearly the entire bottle and over an hour of psyching yourself up before you bring yourself to knock on the door you’d seen Shane retreat into.

He doesn’t answer for long enough that you wonder if you should knock again or go away. Right when you’re about to make a decision, the door opens.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, his voice slurred.

“Just wanted to ask if you wanted a drink.”

He looks like hell. Attractive, of course, as he always is, but disheveled. His hair is all over the place, shirt ruffled and open just enough for you to catch sight of the tattoo on his chest. There’s an edge to his gaze, matching the red, angry scratches on his neck.

Even in this state, he cracks a smile when he sees the bottle in your hand, the liquid inside not even enough for a full glass.

“Drink what? There’s barely anything in there.”

You smile back. “You have more, don’t you?”

Of course he does. He’s just as drunk as you, and you know for a fact he didn’t get to this point by just drinking a couple of glasses of wine at dinner. Shane runs a hand over his face, pausing to softly pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Look, kid, ’s not a good time.”

You try not to let your disappointment show, or to feel discouraged. “Come on, I bet I could cheer you up.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but perhaps he finds your confidence endearing, or he simply doesn’t have the energy to send you away. With a tiny sigh, he steps aside to let you in.

You and Shane, alone in a room with a bottle of liquor. It sounds like something you would only dare to fantasize about in the depths of your brain, except it’s happening right now. He doesn’t turn on the lights save for a small lamp at the corner, engulfing the two of you in warm dimmed lighting as you sit on opposite ends of the couch.

“D’you always do that?” he asks.

“What?”

He nods at the bottle in your hand just as he reaches for one of his own, a liquor you can’t make out in the darkness. “Drink like your liver is indestructible.”

You breathe a light chuckle as you bring the bottle to your lips. “Considering everything, I think my liver is the least of my problems. And you’re not too better off tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a grownup. I can drink.”

You roll your eyes with a scoff, finally finishing off your bottle.

“I’m not that young.”

“How old are ya, anyway?”

“Twenty-four.” You leave the empty bottle on the coffee table. “And you?”

“Older than you.”

“No shit.”

“Too old for you, kid.”

Here it is; the closest either of you have gotten to giving voice to whatever it is that exists between you. There’s a part of you that had hoped he’d never notice it — the stolen glances and excuses to spend time around him and the way your smile lingered the longest for him than for anybody else —, while the other desperately hoped he felt it too, that he would make the first move you couldn’t find the guts to make.

The rejection burns, as subtle and implicit as it was. If you were sober, maybe this would be it; but you’re not, and your booze-soaked brain refuses to give up that easily.

“I’m not a child, Shane.” You hold out a hand, vaguely gesture to the bottle he’s drinking from. He lifts an eyebrow, but hands it over.

You’re expecting wine; it’s whiskey. You try to push through the burn down your throat, but you choke on it just a fraction of a second later, covering your mouth with your hand as you cough.

In the midst of desperately trying to swallow down the last bits of it, you hear Shane laugh.

“Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“Fuck off.” You huff in embarrassment and genuine annoyance, taking a deep breath to steady your voice again.

“I believe ya, no need t’drink yourself into a coma to prove it to me.”

“There’s a lot of things I could do to prove it to you.”

The sentence just jumps out of your mouth before your brain even catches up to it, surprising you as much as it does him. He recovers quicker, snatching the bottle back from you.

“I’m cuttin’ you off, you’ve had enough tonight,” he says. It’s his turn to take a generous swig of the whiskey, swallowing it down like it’s nothing.

You watch him as he drinks, near-mesmerized for a brief moment. The scratches on his neck are in full view now, exposed to you, but you don’t dare to ask where they came from. His jaw is a firm, set line, clenched and tensed. You’ve seen him stressed enough times to know that this is what it looks like.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothin’.”

“Is it this place?” He doesn’t respond, but you discard the possibility. This is by far the safest, most comfortable place the entire group has spent the night since fleeing the city. Your mind flies to the one other issue that could be on his mind. “… Girlfriend problems?”

Shane sighs, and you can’t tell whether it’s resignation or a warning, like he’s telling you to tread carefully.

“Stop calling her that. She ain’t my girlfriend.”

“I’m sure she isn’t now that she’s got her husband back, but—”

“Never been.” He peels off the edges of the label of his drink. “There’s nothing goin’ on between us.”

You wish that were the truth, yet you doubt it. You shift on your spot so that you’re turned fully towards him.

“Then why do you look at her the same way I look at you?”

The silence that follows is heavy, building into something unknown. You force yourself not to look away when Shane finds your gaze, to not take back your words even though your heart is doing cartwheels inside your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t scoff dismissively, doesn’t blame it on the drinking or point out your age difference again. He only regards you with those dark, glassy eyes, as if this is the first time he’s ever seen you clearly.

“What good is looking if you won’t do something about it, sweetheart?” his voice is low, raspy, daring you to take a step further.

He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.

Breath caught in your throat, you push yourself to a stand. It feels like the floor under you is spinning, but it’s slow and gentle, like you’re dreaming rather than just shitfaced. Somehow, you manage not to stumble in your own steps, not to make a complete fool of yourself as you make your way towards him. For a moment all you do is stand there right in front of him, eyes locked on his like his gaze is pulling you in. Then, slowly, you plant your knees on both sides of his legs on the couch, and lower yourself onto his lap.

Adrenaline runs through your body like you’re fighting for your life. You’re barely able to think, consumed by the glint of hunger in Shane’s eyes.

He rewards you by laying his broad hands over your hips, pulling you forward until your body is flush with his. He tastes like whiskey when you kiss him — you must taste the same, because he parts his lips for you immediately, greedily sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he wants to intoxicate himself through you. You return the kiss with the same enthusiasm, the exact same intentions.

You exhale a soft gasp into his mouth when his hands slide up your waist, taking your shirt with them, brushing against your bare skin in the process. His hands are so warm and you feel like you’re burning up, skin blazing everywhere he touches. You let him pull the shirt up and off your body, even if you breathe a disappointed whimper when he breaks the kiss to stare at you.

You expect those hands to explore the skin that’s just been exposed, but instead they settle into the small of your back, pushing you into a deeper arch. “This what you wanted?” he asks into your ear, drawing a shiver out of you.

“Want you to fuck me.” As usual, the alcohol makes you bold, but honest. There’s so much more you want to do with him — getting on your knees for him, for starters, or feeling his thick fingers stretch you out —, but you can tell neither of you will last that long in your drunken state. There’ll be more time for that later, you hope.

You’re only wearing thin shorts while he still wears denim, the roughness of the fabric drawing a moan from you as you rub yourself over the growing hardness between his legs, your knees digging deep into the couch cushions.

His lips press kisses down your neck, along your collarbones. You buck your hips involuntarily when you feel a wet tongue circle your nipple. “Shane,” it leaves you in a small sound, embarrassing if you weren’t far past the point of caring. Shane replies by pushing his hips up against yours.

“Take it out,” he orders. “See what you’ve done to me.”

Your usual defiance and disregard for authority goes out of the window as you find yourself immediately obeying, bringing your hands down to his belt. He removes his shirt while you work to pull his cock out from his boxers. You can’t resist wrapping your fist around it and giving it a few slow pumps.

The sound he makes goes straight to your groin. You pull away to kick off your shorts and underwear as quickly as you can, and Shane grabs you impatiently, pulls you back into his lap like you never left. Your hands are on his chest immediately, covering as much bare skin as they can.

You feel dazed when he lines up his cock with your entrance, unable to see or think about anything other than the way he grunts and shuts his eyes as you slowly sink down on him. For a moment you’re floating, but gravity is soon to pull you back, quite literally; the stretch more intense with every inch you take inside of you.

“Goddamn it, hold on,” you tell him, even though he hasn’t moved yet, even though he’s not even all the way in and you know it. He’s bigger than you’re used to, and you haven’t done this in a long time. You pause for a few moments, thighs trembling with the strain of keeping yourself still.

Shane’s chest heaves with soft pants, but he lets you take your time. He has the beginnings of that usual infuriating cocky smirk at the corner of his lip, like he loves watching you squirm and struggle to take him in.

Only when you start to slowly, tentatively circle your hips does he move, his hands grabbing rough and possessive where your ass meets your thigh. “Gonna take me all the way in, baby?” You feel yourself spread open even more under those strong hands, feel yourself being lifted up with just that grip, then pushed back down. Your head drops to his shoulder with a long moan. “I’ll help you.”

And he does. He guides you to move up and down his cock, controlling the pace with a tight grip on your hips. It starts slow, with long thrusts that demand you feel every single inch of him, gradually growing into a frantic pace that has the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin as well as your combined sighs and moans. It occurs to you that you’re being too loud, that you should probably keep it down, but every sound of approval that leaves Shane’s lips just makes you ride him even harder, eager to hear more.

Once he feels like you’ve got the hang of it, he lets go of your hips and lets you move on your own. His hands run up your body, circling your breasts and your throat before a thumb presses over your lips. You part them obediently, welcoming it into your mouth without losing your momentum.

It’s when that thumb comes to press against your clit that your hips stutter, pulling almost all the way off Shane before you all but jump back down on it.

“That’s it.” He strokes you in firm circles, grunting when you clench hard around him. “That’s good, kid.”

“Fuck, d-don’t call me that.”

You don’t know how to feel about the fact that this is what tips you over the edge despite your protest, his raspy voice in your ear and that damn pet name echoing in your mind. You can’t even feel the strain on your thighs anymore as you keep on moving, uncoordinated but desperate not to lose that high. Shane thrusts up into you and it drives a broken shout of you, like the sensation takes you by surprise, intensifying the pleasure that runs through every vein of your body.

When you come back to Earth, you’re all but collapsed against him, shuddering in his arms that he wraps around you like you’re cold. He’s still inside. Still hard, poking into your sensitive walls. He’s merciful enough to give you the lightest, gentlest thrusts, helping you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm but giving you time to recover.

Out of strength to lift up and down, you focus on clenching around him as hard as you can, on grinding yourself down against his pelvis.

Lifting your head off his chest, your eyes settle back on the mysterious scratches on his neck. Without thinking about it, you lay your lips over them.

It’s like you can feel the heat of them burning into your own skin, before it goes cool against you and you have to push a little bit harder to feel it again. You trace the cuts with your lips, with your tongue, the coppery taste of dried blood overflowing your senses.

Shane moans your name like a warning. It only makes you take the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, a rumble deep in his chest, and before you can soothe the bite with a kiss he’s grabbing at your sides and pushing you to lay down on the couch. You give a sound that’s half a moan, half a yelp of surprise as he digs back inside you, fucking you like a ragdoll. His pace is harder and faster than before, thrusts too rough and erratic for you to push back into any kind of rhythm, to do anything other than lie there pinned under him and take it.

He comes in just a few seconds, a few hard thrusts before he’s pulling out just in time to shoot his release over your stomach. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, grunting and breathing hard against it, occasionally kissing it like a quiet apology.

Shane moves just enough to give you more room, and you feel him fall asleep just a second before you do, both of you still clutching each other tight.

.

The hangover hits you before you even open your eyes in the morning; the worst one you’ve had in a very, very long time. You sigh, wrap your arms around the pillow underneath you, scared that any sudden move might make you sick. You’re naked, but wrapped up in a warm blanket. The pillow and the cushions still carry the warmth of someone else, but you’re alone.

The memories hit you in flashes, one after the other — surreal, dizzying, unbelievable. But you never once wonder if it was just a dream.

You close your eyes again, promise yourself to stay here just a few more minutes, just in case he comes back. He won’t, and deep down you know it, but you wait anyway. Just in case.

[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.

[swarvey]

Can you do bachelor hcs where farmer is like super hurt? Like blood gushing from their abdomen or smth?? Like basically life threatening

when they think you're not going to make it | sdv bachelors x gn!reader

summary -> how some of the boys react to seeing you come out of the mines unconscious with nearly fatal wounds. warnings -> blood and injuries, panic attacks, harsh language

a/n: basically a more severe version of this series lol, i hope you enjoy!!! <3 alex's is probs the longest bc i was inspired heh, i started with alex and shane, but lmk if y'all want more!

alex

feels like his throat is closing in on itself when he sees you all beaten up in harvey's clinic

harvey has to yell at linus to get him out of the room when he keeps trying to reach you

completely panics at the thought of losing you

he just doesn't want to be alone again

it was no secret alex hated hospitals, and harvey's small clinic was no exception. he always tried to leave his appointments with the doctor as soon as he could, and although he would accompany you to yours, he preferred to stand outside until you finished. everything about the environment was too much for him, too painful.

so when linus — the local homeless guy he never really cared to talk to — caught him on the street and practically begged him to go to the clinic, he wasn't entirely convinced. only when your name slipped off his tongue did his eyes widen, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.

alex hated hospitals, and now he had a reason to hate them even more.

"y/n?"

his voice was barely audible as the world around him began to fade, only focusing on your paled face and the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around your torso. his breath got stuck in his chest, and an all too familiar feeling began to swarm him —images of his poor mother laying in a cold hospital bed, monitors beeping rapidly as the doctors failed to save her.

not again. please, not again.

"get him out of here!" harvey demanded, pushing him away from your body. alex blinked, realizing he'd moved past the doctor and was desperately trying to hold onto you. "alex, you have to step away, or else i won't be able to help them."

"stop it, they need me! let me go," he loudly protested. he knew it was childish; he knew he sounded like the same kid he was all those years ago, begging to see his mom one last time, but he didn't care. this was you, and he couldn't lose you. he couldn't lose anyone else.

despite his efforts, alex was swiftly dragged away by linus's unexpected strength. before he knew it, he was standing outside the clinic in the cool evening air, chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

"take some deep breaths," the older man said, somehow sounding level-headed. "it'll be okay."

"the fuck do you know?" alex snapped, voice wavering. "you don't know anything about what it's like, do you? what it's like to lose someone? to watch someone die?" his voice hitched, tears beginning to well in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. "i can't do this. i-i can't do this again, not again, not after last time — i can't—"

"hey." strong hands planted themselves on his shoulders, and his panicked gaze met linus's kind eyes. "this isn't the first time i've dragged people out of the mines, alright? trust me, i've seen worse. they'll be okay."

"you don't know that," alex replied weakly. "they might not make it."

"they're strong, you know that."

"she was strong, too. my mom was the strongest person on this planet." more tears blurred his vision. "look where she ended up."

linus sighed, dropping his arms. "she was," he agreed, and alex looked up in surprise, "but this is different, alex."

"how do you—"

"alex." he turned, meeting harvey's exhausted smile. "you can come in now." alex nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and giving linus a a grateful look before walking in.

your face was still pale and you weren't awake, but it was clear you were much better than before. a new, clean bandage covered your abdomen, and an iv was attached to your arm.

alex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "so, they'll be okay?" he asked, sitting on the chair beside you.

"yes, with some recovery, of course," harvey said, sounding just as relieved as alex felt. "though, i would strongly advise not letting them go to the mines for a while. an injury like this won't heal quicky, and it will likely scar. please talk to them after they wake."

"got it, doc. seriously, thank you so much." with another smile and a nod, harvey walked to another part of the clinic, leaving alex alone with you. he kept repeating the doctor's words in his head as he grabbed your limp hand, watching your chest fall up and down with each breath. "you'll be okay," he whispered, though it wasn't you he was trying to convince.

as alex drifted off to sleep next to you, he silently reminded himself to stop by linus's tent the following morning.

shane

he usually acts pissed at you whenever you get hurt, but it's only bc he knows you can handle yourself

usually you can, anyway, which is why he's worried when you don't come home when you said you would

he's quick to leave the house and immediately starts looking for you (tries to convince himself you're just running late)

in complete shock when he sees you in dr. harvey's arms as he rushes into the clinic with maru beside him

shane glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute, frown deepening when you still didn't appear in the doorway. he could practically hear you chastising him for being too dramatic, but he didn't care — you'd never been this late before, and a tugging feeling in his gut told him there was something wrong.

swearing under his breath, he threw on his jacket and left the farm, telling himself that you probably just got caught up at the saloon, or maybe you stopped by the community center. then again, you had mentioned you wanted to get back into fishing—

"maru, get the door!"

a cold wave washed over shane's entire body, making him halt mid-step.

all he could focus on was your bloodied face hanging from harvey's arms as he rushed you into the clinic, maru hot on his tail.

for a second, time seemed to stop.

then, he was sprinting to catch the door and run in after them, panicked words spewing from his mouth before he could even process his thoughts.

"what the— what the fuck happened? where did you even—? are they going to be okay, oh shit, are they gonna wake up—"

"shane," harvey gritted out through his teeth, "you need to leave, now."

immediately, shane stood his ground, jaw clenched. "i'm not fuckin' going anywhere, not 'til they're awake."

"shane," the doctor repeated in a softer tone, eyes pleading with him, "i can't work on them with you in the room. this wound is deep — i need to operate, and you can't be here."

"please," maru added quietly, looking more distressed than shane had ever seen the typically laidback girl. "th-they might not make it."

harvey gave her a look, but didn't deny her words. shane felt his stomach drop.

then, wordlessly, he turned and slammed open the door into the waiting room, forcing himself into a seat as he bit back panicked tears. maru's words kept playing back in his head like a broken record, and suddenly, shane realized he might have to face a terrifying world without you in it.

"fuck," he cursed, letting his head fall into his hands to hide the hot tears streaming down his face. at first, he thought he was angry — he always told you to be careful, that you shouldn't be running around so damn carelessly all the time, you're not fuckin' invincible. you never listened, of course, always spewing something stupid about doing what's best for everyone. after hearing that phrase more than a handful of times, shane thought it was pretty reasonable for him to be a little pissed.

in that moment, though, who the hell was he kidding? he was nowhere near pissed; he was scared.

you couldn't die, not yet — not when he just got better, not when he still had so much left to say to you. the thought of never being able to see your smile again made him nauseous, and he wished he could rewind back to the morning so he could tug you back into bed with him. stay, he would say. you're not leaving my side today, alright?

he knew it wouldn't have worked. he would still try, though.

shane didn't realize how long he stayed in the same position until the waiting room doors creaked open, his head shooting up at the sound. harvey greeted him with a nod, which he returned stiffly as he stood up.

"d-did everything go okay?" he asked, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his rough voice. "are they—?"

"they're fine," harvey replied, a small smile upturning his lips at the sound of shane's relieved swears.

"thank fuck, i don't know what i would've— it doesn't matter, can i come in?" he barely waited for a response before slipping past the doctor and finding your bed.

he caught maru on her way out, giving her another nod. she smiled, wider than harvey's, before making her way to the other room.

shane hesitantly grabbed your hand as he sat down in the chair beside you, scared he might break you if he held you too roughly. when you didn't stir, he laced his fingers with yours and held them to his forehead, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand.

"you scared the shit out of me," he sighed, shaking his head. "god, i don't know what i would've done if you— if i couldn't—" he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, resorting to giving your hand another kiss. "you better wake up, you hear me? i'll fuckin' kill you if you don't." he half expected you to answer. he could hear your voice in his head telling him to stop acting so tough, that you could see right through him.

instead, the sound of your steady breaths filled the room, and even then, shane felt like that was your way of telling him everything would be okay.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] "Sins of the Guilty"

Summary: SDV Bachelors lusting over the nun that's recently come to visit Pelican Town Warning(s): Not proofread, Sacrilege of nuns, Sub!Sebastion [Reader is kinda a dom in his part], Sebastion doesn't have active sex with the reader, it's only imagined, I kinda favored Sebastion's part ngl, Dom!Shane [The usual lol], This is the filthiest thing I've ever written ngl, Elliot is the king of making readers squirt fight me on that, Elliot is a simp low-key, Bachelors loosely follow the plot of the verses, Unprotected sex [Wrap it before you tap it folks], Pure filth, Porn with plot. Word count: 8,285 wordsSide note(s): Inspired by the fact that- I like nuns and priests man. Going to religious schools all your childhood will do that 💀. Also, sorry for not including all the bachelors. I mostly wanted to focus on those who I think would struggle the most with being presented with a pretty nun in front of them cause it's more fun that way pfft.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane - "Hopeless Sinner" 1 Peter 5:8 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

♡ - Never in his life had Shane been a religious man.

Too much had happened in his life for him to even consider the possibility of a god, and even if there was such a thing? There was no way that they'd look down favorably upon them, especially with all the sins that weighed down his soul.

And he had a lot.

He was a drunk, he could hardly keep his eyes open half of the time. It was common for him to stink, absolutely reek of alcohol and past missed showers and he far too commonly let his alcoholism get him into frequent situations that he would only come to regret the next day. And to add to that list of sins? He wasn't exactly a people person.

He was rude and curt, saw people as an annoyance and treated them like such. He wasn't open to hearing people be kind to him much less try to suggest ways to change himself. The only time he felt semblances of happiness was when he was with his niece and even then? Those times were fleeting and brief, all because of his aforementioned addictions to the bottle.

And...despite all of that, all those troubles...he wasn't intent on changing.

In his eyes? He was a lost cause, too far gone and there was no point in expending energy on something that was damaged. And he only doubled down on that ideology when rumors began to circulate that a nun was going to visit the town for a little while. He even made it a mission to avoid any places where you could've possibly been at!

The last thing Shane needed was some old woman lecturing on the goodness of Yoba and the sins that came with drinking. How that "he wasn't too far gone" and that he could be "saved", all if he just believed and dedicated himself enough.

At least...until he saw you in person one day outside Pierre's shop on his way to get some cans of beer.

. . .

"You must be Shane, I'm Sister Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

It was like the entire world paused for the briefest of moments.

Just enough for him to truly take in your features the moment he saw you, right in front of Pierre's shop no doubt.

Your smile alone could have chased away the darkest of storms and replace it with a sun that shined as much as your eyes did. They were as wide and big as a dog looking up at its owner, he thought. As if you were expecting some type of praise or reward for greeting him with so much enthusiasm. You were slender-figured but graced with long legs, your skin appeared smooth and your lips were pink and full. Yet as Shane looked back down, he was shocked that you weren't wearing a long black dress like he had thought nuns wore but...shorts-

"Shane? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah...I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "How in the hell do you know my name anyway?" He continued, surprised when you didn't flinch at his rude tone.

"The Church made sure to brief me on people's faces and names before I came to visit!" Of course they did…though, he didn’t know whether or not to complain at this fact or to allow himself to silently be happy in a way. After all, it wasn’t everyday that someone cute knew his name off the bat, much less greeted him with a smile that didn’t have badly hidden disdain or disgust behind it.

“Anyway…” You cleared your throat. “You should come to service this Sunday! It’ll be my first one in the valley and I’d love to have everyone there, I-if possible of course.”

He clicked his tongue.

At the very most? He’d think about it.

“Maybe,” Then, he walked past you.

. . .

After the two of you first met, Shane tried avoiding you the rest of the week until Sunday passed him by.

But though be was successfully avoiding you physically, mentally was a whole other issue as no matter what he did? No matter how much alcohol he drank, you’d always find a way to squeeze your way into his thoughts. When he cringed at his own smell at times, suddenly he’d would be hit with a wave of grace as he remembered the smell of your light perfume. It was even beginning to infect his dreams.

Dreams that…were far more pleasant as of late.

In his dreams, you’d sit with him and talk out in some meadow somewhere. Perhaps you’d go on and on about the book of Yoba all the while you steadily inched closer and closer to him before you’d place a hand on his arm. Your chest touching him as your sweet words grew more sensual, forgoing the talk of holiness to instead invite Shane to touch you through your clothes.

But before getting to the good part?

He’d always wake up, left with an aching hard-on and his alarm screaming at him to get ready for work.

That was the first and possibly the only time that Shane began to believe that there may have been such a thing as "The Devil". After all, why else would he suddenly have these thoughts of someone who just arrived in town a few days ago? Especially someone so out of his league?! Also, the two of you only met once and you probably didn't even remember his name!

But after the fourth time of waking up, his own brain once again blue-balling him?

He knew he had to see you in person.

Even if it was just to hear your voice again.

. . .

So, the next day, he went to the shrine of Yoba where he knew you'd be.

And the second he knocked on the door, you responded with a gentle "Come in" before he stepped inside. And...he couldn't help but feel like a black sheep amongst all the holy symbols and the gentle sound of a religious choir playing from a phone, suddenly, the paranoia of Yoba knowing about Shane's unholy imagination of you began to glare up. He felt as if he was going to burst into flames as punishment for daring to offend a sacred place with his presence!

Once he had turned a corner and saw you sitting on a pew, facing the statue of Yoba however...all of a sudden, he was calm and he remembered why he was there.

He simply wanted to confess his sins and have someone hear him out.

"Shane?" You said as you turned around, a smile immediately jumping onto your features. "I thought that was you! It's easy to recognize grumpy voices in this town."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you with anything? What's going on?"

When he opened his mouth, he realize that he didn't have a single clue about how to admit that he wanted to confess his sins. Especially when those sins revolved around you (not that he'd ever dare to say that part out loud). "I uh...want to confess my sins."

Your smile grew. "Oh? Please, sit." You scooted over on your pew before tapping the space next to you.

Obediently, he sat down but a considerable distance away from you. His hands started to sweat and shake, how was he supposed to confess that you were the source of his sins?! How was he going to tell the pure nun of the valley that he was struggling not to masturbate to you defiling yourself on his unworthy cock? The imagination of your moans combined with the image of you begging him to fuck you against the shrine of Yoba plagued his mind. And what's worse?

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it really...he just wanted to be around you. Be it fuel for the mind or something more, he just didn't know.

"...Something tells me that you didn't come to confess." You spoke breaking the silence and snapping him from his thoughts.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Did he do something to give himself away?

"How do you-"

"I've been doing this for a while, you tend to pick up clues." You chuckled. "So tell me, what's really going on? I'm a good listener."

The moment you turned around and looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat as his dream from the night prior suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Your pretty pink lips soaked and glistening from your spit whilst you panted heavily like a bitch in heat, practically for him to do something to you, anything to you. Already, he started to feel his cock twitch inside his boxers, causing Shane to quickly clear his throat and look in front of him.

He tried to think about anything else to keep himself from getting hard in front of you.

"...I've been having weird dreams." He finally admitted. "Dreams that aren't...good."

You hummed to yourself for a moment before you responded. "Like..."I may do something awful" type of bad or another type?"

"Lustful." He muttered.

Like the flip of a dime, it felt like the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You've been lusting after someone?"

He nodded his head.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" He said snappily, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"Don't be so snappy, I like a bit of gossip as much as the next person..." You scooted closer. "Though, if you've been struggling with these thoughts then...the correct thing for me to say as a nun is to suggest you to stop. To be tempted by the flesh is a sin, your thoughts should never be focused on such things."

Finally, Shane forced himself to look at you, fully expecting you to look at him with some type of reprimanding disgust in your eyes but...he was shocked when he found nothing of the sort. You looked at him like a tiger would eye a piece of prey. "But...?" Shane said.

"But, I as an individual say that you should pursue this person. Who knows, she may like you."

Now that made him snort, there was no way that you would like a drunk like him. He was certain of that. "I'm the town drunk, why would she— you like me?" He decided to be upfront, to which you met his words with shock for a moment before you offered him a simple smile in return.

"Nuns have needs too, and who said this had to be a permanent thing? I'll only be in town for a few more weeks, all your sins will simply...wash away, stay between us, once I leave."

It felt like his dream was becoming truer by the second. Only...you were naughtier than what he originally assumed based on your appearance, but it added to the charm, and with each sugar-coated word that fell from your pretty lips, the further his mind slipped into depravity and what he wanted to do with you as he felt his cock chub up against his thigh. After all, when was the last time he'd gotten his rocks off? His right hand and his brain could only stave off the longing for a real tight cunt for so long!

And as he watched you start to lift your dress and slip your panties down your legs.

He immediately took the plunge.

. . .

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as your legs were spread, Shane on his knees as his lapped at your cunt like a man-starved.

And he might as well have been.

He felt as if he had been in a desert for months and had finally spotted an oasis, your slick upon his tongue was sweet and dripped from your pussy like a nonstop faucet, something that he wasn't going to dare let go to waste as he alternated between tongue-fucking your sex with his tongue and moving onto sucking your clit whilst his calloused fingers plunged in and out of your weeping hole.

And you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sooooo d-deeep...." You whined as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head.

Shane's resolve would've snapped if he hadn't been so focused on both eating yu out and prepping you to take his leaking cock, the sound of you, a nun sounding so fucked out and horny...practically crying out for his tongue and fingers made him rut into the air to try and alleviate the tight feeling within' his pants.

"S-Shane...I'm- I'm cumming-" Your high-pitched whine suddenly died on your lips when Shane stopped pistoning his fingers in and out of you as he stood and shredded his clothes.

"No you aren't lil' slut, you'll be doing that on my dick." He grumbled, his hands practically shaking from how eager he was to get inside of you before he finally freed his dick from its confines and lined himself up to your entrance, his hand coming up to press against the middle of your leg and push it till it nearly touched your chest.

Your mouth opened in a wide O at the size of him, causing the man to chuckle.

"Never had something this big in your pussy?"

You unconsciously shook your head but, your pussy nonetheless twitched in eagerness for the man's cock. Despite Shane's eagerness though, he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with you as he gently pressed his mushroom tip against your hole, the feeling sending a rush of electricity over your skin at the feeling of a cock touching your pussy.

It was strange and...it felt hot. Hotter than what you expected it to be.

Shane gripped his cock at the base before beginning to press his tip against your hole, steadily inserting it into your hole before thrusting forward a little as he steadily filled you. The man groaned at the feeling of your wet walls clenching onto him, almost as if you didn't want to let him go despite you possibly being the first man you've ever been with. "L-Loosen up..." He whispered, already feeling a knot begin to form and tighten in his stomach.

It seemed he hadn't been laid longer than what he originally thought. It took ever ounce of Shane's strength and will not to fuck you like a toy, to be as gentle as he could be until he was certain you were ready to be fucked into the pew like you were begging him to when he first started to eat you out.

Then again, you weren't going to last long either as you had just recently had your orgasm denied.

"Y-You're too big..." You whispered, trying to relax your cunt like instructed to but it hardly seemed to do anything at all. You moaned when you felt Shane's cock twitch at your words, a cocky smirk crawling onto his stubbled features as he leaned closer to you. "I'm big huh?"

You nodded your head breathlessly, a moan tearing from your throat when Shane finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass whilst he tightened his grip on your leg to keep you from trying to escape the stretch his dick gave you.

"J-Just fuck me..." You hissed, shooting a glare to try and chase your denied orgasm. And the man gladly did as you wished, slowly pulling himself out of you before suddenly slamming back into you, almost knocking the air from your very lungs before he immediately went into a harsh and brutal pace. Shane almost had a mind to tease how you looked, your lips flushed and lips wet from your shared salvia from your earlier kissing session.

Your moans were loud and unbridled, to the point where even he was worrying about whether or not your slutty moans would attract unneeded attention to the shrine!

But as his balls slapped against your ass, the sensation in combination with your cute moans only served to make his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh Yob, r-right there!" You yelped out when Shane suddenly positioned himself to fuck into you deeper, his cock slamming into the deepest part of you with each thrust. Shane then moved his hand down from its position on your leg to your hips, using the leverage to pull you onto his cock as he threw his head back to let out a drawn-out groan.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." He moaned, his mouth hanging open before he lazily looked back down at you, smiling at your fucked out expression as he spotted drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your lips.

At that moment, his thumb reached to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips before plucking the digit into his mouth with a smirk at your taste. "Can't believe how lucky I am...Yoba must be real," Shane snickered. "I get to fuck one of his cute lil' slutty nuns...especially one that doesn't know what to do with herself when presented with a real dick in her cunt." He continued as the need to fill you up grew with each thrust.

You nodded stupidly, Shane had an urge to kiss you but...your moans sounded too good for him to risk messing up his position and ruining your pleasure that was causing you to cry out so abashedly.

"C-Cummin-" Your climax hit you like a freight train as your body suddenly went rigid. Your cunt spasmed and clenched impossibly tighter around Shane's cock like a vice grip, nearly making him stutter in his movements as you came around his cock. "Y-Yoba-" He hissed, sucking in his bottom lip as he leaned forward a little at the sheer pleasure your spasming cunt brought him.

Shane only managed a few more thrusts before he spilled into you, his stomach clenching and his body stilling as if it were putting all its remaining energy into filling you up.

A breath he didn't even know he was holding released when he finished and looked back at you. Your gaze was unfocused as your cheeks were flushed red and spit trailed down the corners of your lips.

"Oi, you with me?" Shane said as he pinched your cheeks together with his hand, gently shaking you to try and snap you out of your daze.

You could only respond with a soft moan before you looked at him but not at him. He chuckled, he would accept it for now. He just needed to get you dressed, after all...he definitely wanted to discuss if his confessions with you could be a regular thing, at least...until you left of course.

Elliot - "Forbidden Desires" Proverbs 6:25 - Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes;

♡ - When Elliot and you first met. It was on the beach of all things.

Out on the wooden pier that overlooked the ocean. Frequently, the writer would visit here to collect his thoughts for his writing and try to find inspiration from the gentle waves that crashed lightly against the pier and beach alike. Yet it was when he turned his head to the side briefly, the world suddenly seemed to stop on its axis.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Baked in the backdrop light from the sun, he nearly thought you had a halo on your head. Glowing with your holiness that made all the features on your face that much softer, like the way your hooded eyes looked out across the water almost longingly as if you were beckoning for a wave to come and carry you somewhere else. How pieces of your hair escaped your veil and blew with the sea breeze along with your dress.

The longer he admired you quietly, the more he thought you were an ethereal spirit, completely unaware of how you were tempting him despite your outfit telling him that you were the sister that the town had been expecting for about a week now. It was your job to be a role model as to how not to sin.

Yet...he wanted to do the opposite- "Are you going to keep looking at me, or will you say hello?" Your voice snapped Elliot from his thoughts before he finally noticed you were looking at him with a curious but soft gaze, a smile gracing your features when you saw how his cheeks began to tint red.

"E-Excuse me." He said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I was just in shock, I wasn't expecting the long-awaited nun to be at the beach."

As the two of you stood side by side, he noticed how you were shorter than himself. "Oh," You said. "Did I interrupt your alone time?" You smiled.

Elliot smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think you could ever do that." He responded, your mouth hanging open a little as a blush of your own started to coat your cheeks. It was then that Elliot quickly cleared his throat and tried to find a way to apologize. It seemed like he wasn't himself, his thoughts kept coming out before he could fully think about whether he could say them or not!

"Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

You then turned your body fully to face him. "Oh, you're not doing that. I find your forwardness charming." You were dangerous for Elliot's heart, the way you looked up at him made his mouth dry while equally making him feel as if he were floating amongst the clouds. Up until you caught his attention again with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," He answered immediately.

"Y/N." You responded. "It'll be hard for me to come to the beach with my duties and all...you should try visiting the shrine in the Pierre's shop. I'll be there most of the time."

"How long will you be staying in town?"

"Two weeks." He struggled not to immediately frown at that answer, all while he simultaneously struggled to not throw a curse at Yoba for making him feel this strongly about one of his devoted followers. Elliot could be frank with himself, he knew that you would be in his every waking thought from this point onward. All he'd think about is how to get closer to you, get to know you and so much more!

"I hope you'll enjoy your two weeks here then sister." He finally said.

"Oh, I'm certain I will." Then you turned to walk away, your faint perfume tickling Elliot's nose as he was left along with his thoughts, his thoughts settling on the newfound fact that you were his muse.

All of a sudden, his inspiration to write came to him like rushing waves during a typhoon. Stories of how a man fell into a forbidden relationship with a woman, or perhaps a shorter tale of how a man falls in love with a spirit, someone he longed for but knew he couldn't ultimately have. Yet, as all the thoughts flew through his mind. One thing was for certain, you left him with a burning ache in his pants.

. . .

Later that night, he admittedly felt slightly guilty for palming himself over his pants at the thought of you. The pretty nun with the soft voice and heavenly features, although Elliot tried not to think too hard about your words from earlier, to not misunderstand how you phrased your words or how you looked at him as a signal for something more...the image in his head was far too addicting to let go so easily.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock while he sucked at your breasts, planting kisses all over your body as you moaned for more...was it wrong of him to have those thoughts? Then again, surely you knew how you sounded when you spoke to him on the beach! You sounded like you were interested in him! That you may have wanted to pursue something more with—

"Ah...look at me," Elliot murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he scoffed at how ridiculous his thoughts were.

You were a nun.

You were just being friendly!

What he was doing was wrong. To think about a holy sister was potentially one of the greatest sins (at least, to what he knew about the book of Yoba).

Perhaps he needed Yoba more than he realized.

. . .

And that’s what prompted him to visit Pierre’s shop three days later, specifically where he knew you’d be, the Shrine of Yoba.

Elliot’s plans were simple, to confess his sins, receive your judgement and advice, then leave. Of course though, he’s leave out the part where his thoughts revolved around you despite the fact the both of you hadn’t known each other for that long. But once he was standing right in front of the door that would lead into the shrine…he felt like his entire body had frozen in place.

Were you actually a nun or secretly a demon? He thought.

No person should ever have power over another like this. But the moment Elliot’s nerves loosened up a little, he quickly knocked a few times on the door before a gentle “Come in” could be heard from inside, causing him to walk in before he immediately saw you getting up from your kneeling position at the shrine.

You smoothened out your clothes and then looked at Elliot with the same angelic look you gave him the first time you met him. “Elliot?” You said. “You came.”

He nodded his head, keeping his head down just long enough in an attempt to ease his blushing. “I figured I was overdue for confessing my sins.”

“Don’t be silly,” You chuckled. “We all come and confess our sins when we’re ready, there’s no pressure.”

It was easy for you to say, he thought.

You weren’t the one who was losing sleep over imagining the naked form of the person you just met. And as Elliot walked to sit on one of the pews, the more he couldn’t help but think that this may have been a bad idea. Although your attire was similar to what you wore on the beach, he didn’t know if his eyes were tricking him or not but…your clothing appeared…tighter.

Around your chest to be more precise and it was driving him nuts.

He silently begged Yoba that you wouldn’t come close enough to where you’d be able to spot his steadily growing hard-on. And thankfully, you kept your distance via sitting on the pew just in front of him with your back turned.

“Now, you may confess when you’re ready to begin.” You murmured a quick prayer before clearing your throat as a sign you were attentive and listening.

Elliot sighed. "Sister, I've been...well- I've had unholy thoughts as of late. Thought that revolve around a woman that I'm infatuated with."

When you didn't say anything in response, he continued.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever been blessed to see. But it would be wrong for me to pursue a relationship with her."

That was when you spoke. "May I ask why?"

Elliot's throat bobbed up and down at the question. "She's a nun."

The silence that followed was so loud that it nearly rang in his ears. Yet, as you turned around to face him, his mouth immediately fell open to apologize until a certain glint flashed in your ears as you looked at him with a smile, a finger tugging at the collar of your uniform.

"And...what do you want to do with this nun?"

"I want to kiss her." At his confession, it was like a string had broken before you and Elliot's lips crashed together. In the writer's mind, it was as if your lips were meant to be with his own, the taste of your mint-flavored lipstick addicting to his tastebuds as he felt around in your mouth. Your breathing became heavier, pressing yourself as close to Elliot as you possibly could despite the pew that still separated the two of you. "What else do you want to do to me?" You panted when you both separated, your breaths labored and heavy as a single string of spit still connected you two.

Elliot silently eyed the rest of your body.

"May I show you, sister?"

. . .

Had you known the man you met a few days ago was capable of this. You would've fucked him right then and there out on that wooden pier.

The position Elliot currently had you in was making you see stars and galaxies behind your eyes, your legs spread out on his lips as he held you tight against his form, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear right before his eyes whilst he fucked up into you like a man on a mission. Each thrust making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you, you felt as if your organs were molding and reshaping themselves just to better fit Elliot's cock.

"Y-Yoba's name..." He whispered hotly against your neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and all the way down to your exposed collarbones from him hastily pulling down the front of your dress. "Y-You're so tight-" Elliot grit his teeth together as he groaned against your skin.

However, each time he fucked up into you, the sound of your sexes meeting reverberated throughout the small area of the shrine as your slick poured down from your pussy to pool and coat the front of Elliot's thighs, you were starting to...feel something.

A certain coil beginning to tighten tighter and tighter by the second in your stomach.

Compared to the orgasms you've given yourself in the past, privately when you were in your room or in an area you were certain was vacant of other people. This one was more intense and threatened to wash over you with such a force that you worried you'd pass out from the intensity! But, it was hard to voice such a worry when you were being fucked to the point that you couldn't utter a single syllable, to where you nearly had a mind to forgo this life and simply be the plaything of Elliot for the rest of your days.

"E-Elliot...!" You keened as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, Elliot's thrusts somehow growing even more ruthless as he tucked his face into the valley between your breasts.

"Shit..." You managed to hear him breathe out.

Your mouth steadily started to form a large O shape as the coil inside your tummy tightened more and more until it finally burst.

Suddenly Elliot stilled his movements to raise your dress higher to witness the wetness that flowed from your pussy like a fountain spewing water, his mouth dropping in shock whilst the lust inside his eyes grew at the arousing sight of your orgasm spewing from your cunt and splattering onto his thighs.

He was only snapped from his trance when he heard your fucked-out moan and your hand tap his shoulder.

"Truly, you are the woman of my dreams," Elliot said with an equally fucked-out voice as if he were the one who just came. "Do that again." Your eyes snapped open as you tried to quickly voice your protest but not before your words were shooed from your lips when the writer fucked up into you again, resuming his previous pace before he gently leaned you back, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you steady whilst his other went to lift your leg higher so that he had a better view of your cunt.

The squelching noises were like a symphony to his ears.

But all he could think about was you squirting again.

The pew you both sat and fucked on was already dirty...defiled.

It didn't matter to defile it some more.

"Please, squirt on my cock again," Elliot begged. "Will this help my dear? Don't hold back, please." Without a single word of warning, the hand that held your leg up dived down to rub quick circles on your clit with his index and middle finger.

"F-Fuck! Elliot...baby, w-wait- you're going to-" Your entire body shook and convulsed from overstimulation as you struggled to keep your head and thoughts straight, moans falling from your lips shamelessly as you could hear Elliot's raspy moans and throaty groans, the sexy noises only serving to make you clench around the writer's experienced fingers.

Elliot took your pussy getting tight as a sign you were close once again, causing him to speed up both his thrusts and his fingers as they rubbed side to side without abandon on your clit. You tried to cry out for him to slow down, to give you a short break but your moans fell on deaf ears as Elliot only silenced you via fucking you harder to the point your moans took the place of the words you wanted to say as he abused your cunt. "Ahhh...." You moaned in pleasure as you felt something begin to well up inside you again.

"E-Elliot- f-fuck...." You couldn't do anything else but whine and beg, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly as his fingers on your clit sped up whilst he rose you forward a little to plant kisses along your breasts.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear," He whispered against your skin. "Just cum, I got you...please." At the sounds of his begging, that earlier feeling of a coil beginning to tighten started to nearly grow unbearable inside you, your eyes barely staying open as you allowed your body to take all the pleasure your eager lover was bestowing onto you.

"Oh, Yoba...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-" Your body once again grew rigid as Elliot's eyes darted to where the two of you were connected, his eyes widening as your pussy clenched onto him tighter than before as a clear liquid squirted out from you and around his dick. Upon seeing that sight, he wasn't too far behind from his climax, managing a few more hard thrusts before his head dropped forward a little as he moaned.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath until it was you who broke the silence as you steadily rose your head and slid your hands to rest on Elliot's shoulders with a soft moan and a dopey smile. "You know..." Your voice was hoarse as your hand moved to catch Elliot's chin under your hand before you tilted his head back to make you look at him.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a sweet lovesick moan leaving the writer's lips before a smile slowly came onto his lips. "We should do this again."

"How..." Elliot took a moment to further catch his breath. "How long will you be in town?"

"Couple of months, we can discuss about this being a regular thing as well as...you possibly taking me out on a date next?"

He couldn't think of anything better.

Sebastion - "Hungry Recluse" Genesis 2:18 - Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”

♡ - He had heard about a nun coming to the valley when his mother brought it up at dinner a few weekends ago. And back then? He didn't have a mind to care really.

He was a recluse.

He had nothing against religion but he preferred to stay away from crowds. If a nun was to come to the valley then he was more than certain you would bring a crowd, preaching about Yoba and the likes and he respectfully wanted no part of that.

So, imagine his shock one night when he was outside his home smoking. Only to spot a nun doing the same.

"A nun, smoking?" He nearly choked on his own cigarette. His words catching your attention before you cursed under your breath before you dropped your cigarette and quickly stomped on it with the heel of your shoe.

"Goddamn it..."

He scoffed. "And you curse too?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're going to snitch to someone, do it now." As Sebastion stared, thinking about how much he wasn't going to snitch to anyone (after all, he believed it wasn't his place nor did he feel like anyone would believe him should he have wanted to do it). He couldn't help but think about how...well, how pretty you looked.

You sported a more roguish look to your uniform compared to what he was originally thinking you'd look like. Clean outfit with a bright smile, maybe a hand carrying a bible or the cross of Yoba perhaps. Instead? One side of your dress was bunched up, exposing quite a considerable amount of thigh as well as the black stocking you wore underneath, and the similarly colored boots that would've typically been hidden underneath.

Your make-up was gothic and you had a septum piercing along with a couple more piercings on the outer edge of your right ear.

And if he was seeing things right...was that black nail polish on your fingers- "Are you going to keep staring?" You said bitingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, quickly looking somewhere else. "I just didn't expect the nun to be-"

"A sinner?" You interrupted with a heavy sigh.

"Different." He finished his sentence.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah well...that's what you get when you're an unwilling member of the church." You spilled.

Now he was really curious about you. This entire time, he had expected a goody two-shoes sister who would rave on and on about Yoba anytime that they could! Or maybe even some old hag as old as Evelyn was, nagging and constantly haggling people about converting and praying more to Yoba.

But instead? The town received neither.

Only you.

And he was absolutely enthralled by you.

So much so that he found himself unconsciously walking up to you before he cleared his throat. "Do...you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not looking for pity if that's what you're-"

"I'm not trying to pity you." He interrupted. "You just seem to be in need of a confessional as much as anyone else." He shrugged, his words sparking a chuckle that sounded like a melody in his ears.

. . .

And that was the beginning of you and Sebastion's relationship.

One where you two would meet under the guise of night every other day after you had finished your "performance" during the day of playing the innocent nun who wanted to spread the word of Yoba. Something that Sebastion quickly learned was nothing but complete bullshit. The two of you would rant about your lives and how much you two wished you could change things.

Whether it was from Sebastion's dreams of moving away from Pelican Town and into the city, to you ironically praying to Yoba that he'd give you an outing from the church.

The one day you'd be free.

"...Why are you stuck in the church?" Sebastion had asked one day, lighting your cigarette before his own.

You blew a puff of smoke before sighing. "Mommy and daddy had unresolved debts and issues." You said. "To pay 'em off, they got rid of me." You continued.

"Now I wear this damn get-up and play "Good follower of Yoba"." You mumbled a few curses under your breath afterward, ones that made Sebastion snicker under his breath as he considered your situation. Although obviously different, the similarities in your stories were eerily similar. The two of you longed for another life, felt as if you didn't belong in the current one you both lived, and, as much as you both could, you tried to actively change that.

But...where Sebastion could easily pack some things, get on his bike, and head for the city.

You didn't have that luxury.

"Why don't you move here?"

"Unresolved debts remember?"

"I know but...there's a lot of abandoned places here in the valley. We even have an abandoned farm not too far from here. You could live there."

"My cage would be no different then, just a new window to look out of."

A small smile crept onto your features when you spotted an apologetic frown appear on Sebastion's face. One that made you flush a little as his cheeks appeared puffier and cuter. You appreciated being able to talk to him, more than you'd ever be able to convey but...you weren't looking for sympathy or solutions to escaping that only involved you living a life on the run and in hiding.

In truth? Being asked by the higher-ups to visit this small town, meeting Sebastion?

It was as close to a blessing from Yoba as you'd ever get.

Back home, you were a glorified maid if not eye candy for old men. You'd clean for them, cook for them, bring them drinks...it was such a dull life. You hadn't even been able to go to college. You couldn't even do most math but you could damn well recite random passages from the book of Yoba.

You hadn't nor would ever be able to find love!

All talks of boys and falling in love were strictly forbidden, seen as nothing more than a gateway for potential sinning, something you'd eventually learn was nothing but complete hogwash as there were plenty of times you've seen your fellow sisters open their legs for priests when it pertained to the topic of being able to get away with some things. Here in the valley though? You didn't feel that pressure.

You liked it here.

You liked...well, you liked the people. They were nice.

"You should be happy here Sebastion." You said, breaking the silence.

"You have a good life here, it may not be the one you want it's the one that's the best path for you at the moment."

Sebastion rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, you don't live here."

"Maybe, but I'd need a million more fingers in order to count how many situations are worse than this." You sighed. "After all...you never know, one day you may find yourself liking it here. Life is funny like that." At those words, you placed a gentle hand ontop of Sebastion's for only a brief moment before you got up and walked away.

An act that only served to leave Sebastion's heart skipping beats and...strangely upset.

. . .

And he must've sat outside for an extra thirty minutes before he finally went inside.

Dinner tasted bland, and all of a sudden Demetrius' snide remarks and insults didn't even make him turn nor lift his head to briefly glare! All Sebastion could think about was you.

You, you, you, you, you.

He didn't know what sounded weirder or more pathetic.

Him chasing after you like he was in some chick-flick, exclaiming how he wanted to be with you despite only knowing you for going on close to a week now. Or if he said that you were the only person in this entire town who seemed to understand him! The only one who made him truly happy aside from the small yet rare-found joys in his life! He could introduce you to his friends, Sam and Abigail, he thought you'd get alone well with them.

Maybe you could teach Sam to play new songs? He remembered you mentioning how you knew how to play the guitar a little. Or maybe you could simply be another girl added to the group, someone for Abigail to hang out and talk with.

As Sebastion sat on his bed. His mind further diving into his racing thoughts that concerned you, so many situations revolving around the question of 'What if?' that he could barely keep track of them all! He wondered then about what if you'd be another addition to the farming community here. If you would actually take over that abandoned farm.

What would you grow, would you be good at it or would you only prefer animals like Marnie?

Or...maybe you'd be something else?

A writer like that one guy who lived at the beach with Willy.

Or maybe an inspiring somebody like himself or Sam?

Another member to the Adventurer's Guild perhaps?

He considered it all but the one scenario that made his heart strangely ache the most was...if you were with him.

You made him smile the most out of everyone here. Sebastion enjoyed your curt personality that blended well with your shockingly soft tendencies. You were pretty and when your lips weren't covered in dark lipstick, they shined a surprisingly glistening red. Your eyes were the most gorgeous underneath the moonlight ad your figure (if he couldn't guess from the first moment he met you) was something that made his jaw drop every single time.

Suddenly, there was a throb in his pants at the thought of what you'd look like underneath your clothes.

But no, even if you stated you didn't want to be a nun.

He'd give you the respect all the same. He wouldn't dare to do anything inappropriate with your face in mind. It wouldn't be right.

. . .

But oh...did he think it would feel so right.

It wasn't a bad thing to touch himself to the thought of you, was it? You weren't there and so long as you didn't know then technically sin would have ever been committed! At least, that's what he comforted himself with as he furiously jerked himself off underneath his covers, breathless moans leaving his lips as he imagined it was your hand stroking him off rather than his own.

And as he did so, he swore he was more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life.

He imagined you were wearing your dark lipstick as your hand went down to massage his balls, your lipstick leaving smudge trails up and down his cock as you flattened your tongue to trail along the prominent vein that ran on the underside of his cock. Yet as you did so, you kept a firm eye on him as you looked at him through your lashes.

"You must've been so pent up Sebby..." His cock twitched at the nickname. "Waiting for me to do this to you, you must've been thinking about this since the day we've met. Huh?" A whine left escaped him at your words, his vision beginning to blur from both pleasure and growing embarrassment as his cock began to leak more and more pre.

"Not going to answer~?" You purred. "That's okay, you seem to be way more talkative down here than with that mouth of yours."

"P-Please..." He whispered.

Your smirk grew as your hand quickened in its pace, your face leaning in closer to his to the point he could almost imagine your breath gently blowing on his face. "Please fuck me..." He moaned. "R-Ride my cock, j-just do something more with me."

"Such a good boy~"

As you sat up, you licked the tips of your fingers clean from his pre as straddled him to where your pussy hovered over his cock. He twitched at the feeling of your heat, his eyes glued on your dripping pussy before your finger tipped his head to look back up at you. "Keep your eyes on me." You ordered before swiftly pressing a kiss to his lips. A choked-up moan escaped Sebastion's lips when you suddenly sunk yourself onto him. Your hips immediately started a fast pace that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Until you suddenly slowed down. "W-Wha...?" He said dizzily, looking back at you. "Why-"

"Eyes on me Sebby~ or what? Is my pussy too good for you to listen to me?" You suddenly slammed your hips down, Sebastion's hand gripping the bedsheets with a loud moan before you resumed your original pace. "You should be following what I say more diligently than this Sebastion" You pouted. "A holy nun is giving you her untouched pussy, the least you could do is look at her~"

"Y-Yes!" He moaned. Tears flowed down the sides of Sebastion's face as he kept his eyes on you, the sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room as a familiar knot steadily started to appear in the pit of his stomach. His cock twitching inside your warm pussy as the feeling of your walls nearly drove him to insanity.

Your moans, your face contorting in pleasure as your hands roamed up and down his chest underneath his hoodie. Everything about you made him want to exclaim just how much he had developed a crush on you, something that he wanted to take farther rather than just simply have sex with you. Yet, as the heat in his belly turned white-hot, his moans sounded closer to wails as he begged to cum.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

You weren't even here.

Something that was slapped into him the second he felt his cum pool over the top of the hole he made with his hand rather than feeling it fill you up.

"Y/N..." He moaned as if you'd magically appear before him.

Tomorrow, he would definitely confess his feelings. Religion be damned, he knew that he wanted something with you.

[croisants]

New Coach (3) - End

Part 1, Part2

Tyler didn’t sleep much.

Not because of nightmares this time—but because of possibility.

Someone else believed him. Someone else saw it. That changed everything.

He replayed every conversation with Vance in his head. Every sidelong glance from Ethan. Every word Shane had said.

He was missing something. But not for long.

---

The next morning, Tyler walked into school already scanning.

He wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was watching.

And that’s when he saw it.

A girl—senior, maybe. He didn’t know her name. She was arguing with Coach Vance outside the admin office. Her voice was hushed, sharp. His was calm, as always. Too calm.

Then she stormed off.

Tyler ducked into a corner by the vending machine and watched as Vance stood there for a moment… then looked around and slipped a key into the side panel of the trophy case.

It clicked open.

He pulled something out. A folder. Slim. Labeled.

CONFIDENTIAL.

Vance glanced around again and walked down the hall.

Tyler didn’t breathe.

A minute later, someone appeared beside him.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

Tyler jumped.

Shane.

Leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there the whole time.

“How long were you—?”

“Long enough,” Shane said. “He shouldn’t be touching those files.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I think,” Shane said, turning to walk, “it’s time we find out.”

---

That night, Tyler came back.

He waited until the janitor locked the east wing and the last car rolled out of the parking lot. Then he slipped in through the cracked window by the art room—just like Shane said he used to do at his last school.

He moved like he’d done this before.

Heart pounding. Backpack slung low. Black hoodie. Gloves.

The hall lights were off, just red emergency bulbs glowing in the corners like watching eyes.

He made it to the trophy case.

His breath caught.

The same keyhole.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bent bobby pin. Not perfect, but it was something. He knelt and started working.

Click.

Turn.

Nothing.

Click.

His palms were sweating now. The hallway stretched out like a tunnel behind him.

Then, behind the glass—a flash of light.

A phone screen.

And a voice:

“Took you long enough.”

Tyler jumped back, heart hammering.

Inside the open trophy case area—Shane sat cross-legged on the floor, flashlight pointed at the file in his lap.

“What the hell?” Tyler hissed.

Shane looked up with that same unbothered smile.

“Figured you’d come. Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

“You already got in?”

Shane held up a thin piece of bent metal. “Lock’s trash. Took thirty seconds.”

Tyler shook his head. “You could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to see if you’d actually do it,” Shane said. “Guess I was right.”

He slid the file across the floor.

Tyler opened it.

Inside—printed emails, redacted reports, and a staff transfer document.

Coach Owen Vance.

No photo.

No signature.

And under “previous employment”?

Redacted.

Tyler looked up.

“This is real,” he whispered.

Shane’s smile widened, just enough to say, "Yes. Keep going. Dig deeper."

And so Tyler did.

---

Tyler flipped through the rest of the file, fingers trembling.

Nothing made sense.

Names blacked out. Pages missing. Lines of text whited out completely.

It wasn’t a folder—it was a trailhead. A mystery waiting to be unraveled.

“Why would they hide this?” he murmured.

Shane stood, sliding the folder back into his bag with the care of someone handling a weapon.

“Because Vance isn’t supposed to be here.”

Tyler looked at him.

“You really believe that?”

Shane met his eyes. Steady. Certain.

“I believe people like him don’t just show up without reason. And if you don’t pull the thread now…” He shrugged. “It’ll strangle you later.”

Tyler didn’t sleep that night.

Not out of fear.

But purpose.

For the first time, it felt like the curtain was lifting.

He didn’t know he was standing on a stage Ethan had built just for him.

---

Tyler was buzzing the next morning.

Not with adrenaline—but with focus.

The folder. The redacted documents. Shane’s certainty.

It wasn’t just paranoia anymore. It was a case.

He’d been hunted. Gaslit. Humiliated.

Now he was hunting back.

---

Ethan sat by himself at the lunch table, like always. Head down, earbuds in, tapping quietly at his laptop.

Tyler walked straight toward him.

Shane had said not to move too fast. Wait. Gather more.

But Tyler needed to see something in Ethan’s eyes. Needed to see him flinch.

He dropped into the seat across from him, hard.

Ethan didn’t look up.

“Nice morning,” Tyler said, voice flat.

Ethan paused his music. “Sure.”

“You know,” Tyler went on, “it’s weird. How someone like Coach Vance shows up out of nowhere. No background. No files. Just power.”

Ethan blinked. “Okay.”

Tyler leaned in. “Know what’s weirder? Seeing your name show up in the same places. Same times.”

Ethan smiled faintly. “That sounds like a conspiracy.”

“I broke into his file.”

That made Ethan finally look up.

His eyes weren’t scared.

They were curious.

Interested.

Amused.

“You really did that?”

“You tell me,” Tyler said. “Since you are him.”

There was a pause.

Then Ethan leaned forward, voice soft.

“You sure you want to do this here?”

And that was the trap.

Because behind Tyler, a voice snapped:

“Mr. Stanton?”

Tyler turned.

Ms. Kellerman.

Tray in her hands. Eyes narrowed.

Ethan sat back and pressed his fingers to his temple.

“Sorry, Ms. Kellerman. I think Tyler’s going through a lot right now. I was just trying to help.”

Tyler stood fast. “He’s lying!”

“Tyler,” she said, stepping forward slowly. “What are you doing?”

“He’s not who you think he is! He’s Coach Vance!”

Ethan flinched perfectly. “Please stop.”

“You think I’m crazy?” Tyler snapped. “Look at him! Look at his face!”

Kellerman grabbed his arm. “That’s enough.”

He looked down.

Everyone was staring.

Phones out.

Laughing.

Recording.

And Ethan—sweet, fragile, harmless Ethan—rubbed his eyes like he might cry.

---

Later, Tyler sat outside the nurse’s office, head in his hands.

He didn’t know how Ethan did it.

The timing. The tears. The perfect expression of victimhood.

But it worked.

Again.

He was losing.

And Ethan hadn’t even touched him.

Then, the nurse gave Tyler a juice box and a counseling referral.

He didn’t take either.

He just sat in the hallway, knees up, staring at the scuffed tile like it might tell him what to do next.

He’d had him.

Right there.

Ethan should’ve cracked.

Instead, he made Tyler look insane.

Again.

---

It was dark by the time Tyler got outside.

The campus was empty. The wind was sharp.

But Shane was waiting—sitting on the low concrete wall outside the gym, hoodie pulled over his head, like he’d never moved.

He didn’t say anything when Tyler approached.

Didn’t ask what happened.

He just said, “You ready to stop playing defense?”

Tyler sank down next to him, silent for a long beat.

Then, “He flipped it on me. Like I was a kid chasing shadows.”

“You’re not,” Shane said. “You’re chasing something real. But you’re doing it out in the open. That’s how you lose.”

Tyler looked over. “Then what do I do?”

Shane pulled something from his bag.

A folded blueprint.

Of the school.

He unfolded it slowly on his knees.

“There’s an old access stair under the south wing. Leads straight into the coaching office. No cameras. No keys needed. Most people don’t even know it’s still unlocked.”

Tyler stared.

“You’ve been planning this?”

Shane smiled. “No. I just know how to find pressure points.”

He tapped the corner of the map.

“We go in. We pull everything. His computer. His drawers. His backup drives. We don’t guess anymore. We know.”

Tyler’s hands curled into fists.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s take him down.”

Shane grinned like a wolf.

“Then we go in Friday night.”

---

That night, Tyler lay awake, staring at his ceiling.

He had the map. The plan. The one person he could trust.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like things were falling into place.

He didn’t know they were falling around him.

One step from the edge.

Exactly where Ethan wanted him.

---

Friday night.

No lights in the school. No cameras rolling in the south wing. Just silence and shadows.

Tyler and Shane slipped through the broken side gate at 10:17 p.m.

No one saw them.

Shane carried the map. Tyler carried a crowbar, just in case.

They didn’t speak much. The plan was tight. Clean. Shane made sure of that.

They reached the south stairwell.

Just like he said—no alarm. The rusted door opened with a groan and a puff of old dust.

They descended into the dark.

---

The office was colder than it should’ve been.

No photos. No plaques. Just a desk, a laptop, and a filing cabinet with a padlock Tyler popped with a single twist.

They moved fast.

Shane dug into the drawers while Tyler scrolled through the laptop.

“What are we even looking for?” Tyler whispered.

“Anything he didn’t want found,” Shane muttered. “Emails. Staff forms. Video files.”

Tyler scrolled deeper—and stopped.

One folder.

Untitled.

He clicked.

Inside were only two files.

One was a photo.

A still shot of Ethan, standing in the school hallway—timestamped.

The second...

A picture of Shane.

Same hallway.

Same timestamp.

Tyler froze.

His throat went dry.

He glanced at Shane—who hadn’t noticed yet, still flipping through folders.

Tyler clicked the metadata.

The files were fake.

Generated.

Planted.

He looked back at Shane.

Shane looked up.

And for a split second—Tyler swore the corner of his mouth twitched.

A smile.

But it was gone before it landed.

“Find something?” Shane asked.

Tyler shook his head slowly.

“No.”

---

When they left, Tyler felt different.

Not angry. Not afraid.

But... off-balance.

Like the ground was shifting beneath him.

Like maybe he didn’t know who was standing next to him anymore.

---

Tyler couldn’t stop hearing it.

That line.

“Not the type to make moves on his own.”

It echoed in his head, over and over, like a whispered refrain he couldn’t shake.

He remembered when Coach Vance had said it—quiet, deliberate, after a late-night drill when the gym was empty and the lights buzzed faintly overhead.

“That kid Ethan? Always hiding at the back of class. Stays quiet. Doesn’t make waves. Not the type to make moves on his own.”

Vance had said it like it was fact.

But now—days later—Shane had said the exact same thing.

Tyler remembered it clearly. He had been ranting about Ethan while he and Shane at the cafe, calling him weak, passive, fake.

And Shane, calm as ever, had replied:

“Not the type to make moves on his own.”

Same words.

Same rhythm.

Same voice?

No. That couldn’t be. Shane’s voice was deeper. Warmer. More relaxed.

But it felt the same.

Too much.

Too close.

---

They were walking the outer loop of the track field after school. Shane was talking about a possible lead—something about hidden footage on a PE server. Tyler wasn’t listening anymore.

He was watching.

Not the words. The rhythm.

The way Shane walked—confident, quiet, with a little swagger at the corners.

The way he paused before delivering certain lines.

It was all so... calculated.

Too polished.

Like someone playing a role.

Tyler slowed down.

“You remember that thing you said about Ethan?” he asked.

Shane looked over, casual. “Which one?”

“That he’s not the type to make moves on his own.”

Shane chuckled. “Still true, isn’t it?”

Tyler forced a nod.

But something turned in his gut.

He remembered Vance’s voice saying those same words. Remembered the gleam in his eyes. The way he’d dropped that line like a match on gasoline.

And now Shane said it too.

Word for word.

---

That night, Tyler pulled out the notes he’d been keeping. Names. Times. Quotes. Moments that didn’t add up.

He highlighted the phrase—both times.

He circled them.

Then he wrote, in all caps:

**WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, REALLY?**

---

The next morning, Shane met him like always. Smiling. Confident.

But Tyler couldn’t stop watching him like a stranger.

And when Shane looked away for just a second—

Tyler whispered under his breath:

“I think I know your face.”

Shane didn’t hear it.

But he would.

Soon.

---

Tyler didn’t sleep.

He didn’t spiral either.

Is Shane really new Ethan? Coach Vance, Now Shane?

He planned.

If Shane really was who Tyler now feared he was… he’d eventually slip. He’d say something he shouldn’t know. React too fast. Fill in a blank that only Ethan could recognize.

All Tyler had to do was feed him the right detail.

So he picked one.

---

In gym class, freshman year, Ethan once faked an injury during a running test. Everyone had laughed. Tyler had laughed hardest. Ethan limped off the court, face red. Two hours later, someone found his name scrawled in Sharpie on the back of the bleachers.

It was a dumb story.

But only Ethan remembered it.

---

That afternoon, Tyler waited until they were alone again—him and Shane, sitting near the outdoor stairs, like usual. Shane was picking apart a protein bar with surgical focus, eyes on the track field.

Tyler played it casual.

“You ever fake an injury to get out of a test?”

Shane looked up, smirked. “What kind of test?”

“Running,” Tyler said. “Mile run. Freshman year.”

Shane gave a breath of a laugh. “God, yeah. Back at my old school, I limped so bad the nurse thought I tore my calf.”

Tyler nodded slowly.

“So no one wrote your name on the bleachers after?”

Shane blinked.

Just for a second.

Then smiled.

“Wish they had.”

Tyler’s heart skipped.

That pause.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

---

Later that night, Tyler replayed the conversation in his head.

The phrasing.

The timing.

The pause.

Shane had hesitated like someone caught between memories—like he’d almost said “I thought you did” instead.

Tyler scribbled a new line across his notebook:

SHANE ISN’T NEW.

And underneath it:

HE’S PLAYING ME.

---

The Camera (Can't) Lies

Tyler spent his Saturday morning alone at school.

He’d told the janitor he left a jacket in his locker. No one questioned him.

He waited until the hallway was clear.

Then he set the camera.

An old camcorder—grainy, bulky, but reliable. Tucked into the air vent above the east academic wing hallway. Perfect angle. It would capture the entry doors with a timestamp.

If Ethan walked in at 7:52, and Shane showed up behind the gym at 7:58—on the opposite side of campus—he’d have them.

Or he’d have him.

---

Monday came like a storm.

Tyler barely blinked through first period.

At 7:51 a.m., he positioned himself near the gym stairs.

At 7:58, Shane arrived.

Hood up, all confidence.

“Ready to break the system again?” he asked, offering a casual grin.

Tyler forced a nod.

Inside, his pulse was thunder.

---

Lunchtime.

Tyler slipped into the janitor’s closet, locked the door, and pulled out the camera.

Fast-forwarded.

7:50… 7:51…

7:52.

There—Ethan.

Clear as day, walking through the east entry doors. Head down. Hoodie up. Backpack over one shoulder. Small frame. Maybe 5'9" at best.

Tyler stared.

Fast-forwarded.

7:58.

There—Shane, appearing behind the gym.

Different entrance. Opposite side of the school. And Tyler had been there the entire time.

Shane was tall. Broad. At least 6'2". There was no mistaking it.

It was impossible.

Unless...

They were the same person.

Tyler blinked hard, scrubbing backward on the footage.

7:52—Ethan. Small. Slouched. Thin.

7:58—Shane. Confident. Strong. Towering.

That wasn’t a disguise. That wasn’t a trick of posture.

That was a transformation.

Ethan and Shane weren’t just the same person.

Ethan had changed his body.

His height. His build. His presence.

Tyler’s blood went cold.

There was only one explanation.

He wasn’t crazy.

He wasn’t paranoid.

Ethan was a shapeshifter.

Tyler laughed.

A small, cracked sound that almost frightened him.

He had him.

He finally had him.

---

Until the knock came.

Slow.

Measured.

Tyler turned.

Coach Vance stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes like steel.

“You digging for ghosts, Stanton?” he asked quietly.

Tyler swallowed. “I saw him. I saw—”

Vance stepped into the light.

Smiling.

“You’re getting close.”

Tyler froze.

“What?”

Vance leaned down. His voice was soft—softer than it had ever been.

“I let you see it.”

Tyler’s blood ran cold.

“You—”

“I wanted you to know. Just not yet.”

Then he turned, calm as ever, and walked away.

Leaving Tyler with shaking hands, a blinking screen, and one undeniable truth:

He was never the hunter.

He was the game.

---

He can't wait longer.

Tyler stood outside the principal’s office with a USB drive in his palm.

The camcorder footage was on it.

Two files. Two appearances. One impossibility.

He clutched it like it was a sword. A lifeline. The truth.

He had asked for a private meeting. Said it was important. Urgent. About Coach Vance.

Principal Avery had agreed.

Ms. Kellerman would be there too.

Good.

He needed witnesses.

---

Inside the office, they gave him space at the front desk.

“Go ahead, Tyler,” the principal said gently.

Tyler nodded, breath shaking.

He plugged in the drive. Clicked play.

First: Ethan, walking through the east hall entry at 7:52 a.m.

Then: Shane, meeting Tyler at the gym at 7:58.

“See that?” Tyler said, pointing to the timestamps. “He can’t be in two places at once. Ethan and Shane—they’re the same person.”

The adults leaned in. Silent.

“Look at the body types,” Tyler said. “The walk. The way they look at people. It’s all the same.”

Kellerman raised an eyebrow. “But they’re clearly different. One’s tall. The other isn’t.”

“That’s the point,” Tyler said, voice rising. “He changes. He’s a shapeshifter!”

Silence.

Not awe.

Just... discomfort.

Principal Avery folded his hands. “Tyler. This is serious. Are you suggesting your classmate—Ethan—and Coach Vance are... supernatural?”

“I’m showing you proof!”

He turned back to the screen.

But something was wrong.

The Shane footage—it looked… different.

Smoother. Cropped tighter.

The timestamp was gone.

His stomach dropped.

“No—wait—this isn’t the right version—” he stammered, clicking wildly.

“I think that’s enough,” the principal said.

Kellerman frowned. “Tyler, are you manipulating school footage?”

“I didn’t—no—someone changed it!” Tyler spun. “It was him!”

And then—

The door opened.

Coach Vance stepped in.

Calm. Collected. The model of professionalism.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Tyler pointed. “You’re him! You’re Ethan! You’ve been playing us all!”

But no one moved.

No one flinched.

Vance looked to the principal. “Maybe it’s time we discussed next steps for Tyler.”

The adults nodded.

Tyler backed up.

No.

No, no, no.

The footage was gone.

His proof was gone.

And Vance—Ethan—stood there, perfectly untouchable.

---

Minutes later, Tyler stumbled into the main hallway.

His head was spinning.

He wiped his face, still shaking.

Then stopped.

Shane was sitting on the bench just outside the front office.

Waiting.

Hood up. Calm. As if he’d been there all morning.

Tyler froze.

He looked back at the office.

Then quietly stepped to the door.

Peeked in.

Principal Avery. Ms. Kellerman. An empty chair.

Vance was gone.

No exit. No hallway movement. No footsteps.

Just gone.

Tyler turned back.

Shane looked up.

“Didn’t go well?” he asked, casual as ever.

And this time, the smile was different.

Not friendly.

Not sympathetic.

Knowing.

The kind of smile that came from someone who’d already seen the outcome.

Who’d designed it.

Tyler blinked.

His breath caught.

Vance was just in that room.

Shane is here now.

They never passed each other.

Unless…

There was nothing to pass.

Because they were never two people at all.

The posture. The eyes. The stillness in Shane’s shoulders.

It’s Vance.

It’s always been Vance.

It’s always been Ethan.

Tyler turned, shaken.

He didn’t say a word.

Shane just sat there.

Still smiling.

---

Tyler didn’t speak to Shane all week.

He smiled when he had to.

Nodded when it was expected.

All the while, the original SD card burned in his jacket pocket like a secret weapon.

His ace.

His checkmate.

---

Friday. Game night.

The gym buzzed. Packed house. Everyone was there.

Perfect.

He had the footage loaded. Time-stamped. Clean. Unedited. Proof.

The projector was set. AV tech gave him control.

This was it.

---

Tyler took center court just before the game started. Lights dimmed. Spotlight caught him mid-step.

He make sure Coach Vance.. or Ethan, or who the fuck is he, still sit on the bench.

“Before we play,” he said into the mic, “there’s something I need to show you.”

Confused murmurs. Curious faces.

He hit play.

7:52 — Ethan entering the east hallway.

7:58 — Shane behind the gym.

Two places. Six minutes. One impossibility.

Gasps. Confusion.

“This,” Tyler said, “is proof. Shane, Ethan, and Coach Vance—are the same person.”

He turned toward the bench.

But Coach Vance was gone. His clipboard left on the chair. Whistle still hanging from the hook.

Tyler blinked.

Then from the bleachers—

Shane stood.

Arms folded. Calm. Watching.

Tyler pointed. “That’s him! He was just on the court!”

People looked between the court and the bleachers.

Vance wasn’t there. Now Shane was.

Then the lights flickered. Just a moment. Tyler lost sight.

And when they returned— Shane was gone.

Tyler spun.

Ethan sat near the top row with his favorite gray sweater. Small. Nervous. Watching the screen like everyone else.

Tyler’s breath caught.

He looked between them. Looked for cameras. For witnesses.

Everyone was murmuring now.

“He was just there—” “Wasn’t that Coach Vance?” “Wait, is he saying the coach is that kid?”

Tyler pointed again.

“He’s all of them! You’re not seeing it!”

But they were. Exactly what Ethan wanted them to see.

One face. Then another. Then another.

Never together. Never overlapping.

Enough distance to make Tyler look insane.

The screen changed. Footage of Tyler sneaking into AV. Digging through lockers. Talking to himself in the hallway.

“Wait—no—this isn’t—”

“Tyler,” Ms. Kellerman called. “I think that’s enough.”

Security moved.

The crowd watched. Phones recorded.

Tyler’s voice cracked.

“You’re all the same person…”

But to them?

He looked broken. Unstable.

Because Ethan had pulled off the perfect finale.

Three masks. One actor. Zero witnesses.

They led Tyler out slowly. Eyes followed. Mouths whispered.

And Ethan—whichever face he wore now—watched it all.

Still here. Still safe. Still in control.

---

Epilogue: The Stage is Set

Life at school went on.

The final game day passed. Tyler Stanton didn’t show.

Some said he transferred. Others said he was institutionalized. A few whispered he cracked under pressure.

But no one really knew.

And eventually, no one really cared.

Coach Vance still ran practices like a general.

Shane still hung by the gym doors, charming anyone who walked by.

And Ethan?

Still sat in the second row of chemistry with his favorite gray sweater, quiet as ever.

No one questioned it.

Why would they?

They were all different.

They had to be.

---

What really happened?

At late night, after that final game, Tyler sat alone in the nurse’s office. Waiting to be picked up. A stomach ache, they said. Maybe a panic attack.

He stared at the floor. Not crying. Not moving.

Then the door opened.

Coach Vance stepped in.

No clipboard. No whistle. Just him.

He closed the door behind him. Locked it.

Tyler didn’t look up.

“Go away.”

Vance didn’t move.

“You were right,” he said quietly.

Tyler lifted his head.

Vance stood and cross his arms. Calm. Steady. Watching him.

“I wanted you to know,” he added. “That you weren’t crazy.”

Tyler swallowed hard. “Then why—why make me look like I was?”

Vance tilted his head.

“Because no one believes a story when it’s told too late.”

And then—

He changed.

Right in front of Tyler.

His posture shifted. His jaw reshaped. His eyes sharpened. His hair darkened. Shoulders narrowed.

Shane stood where Vance had been.

Then—blink—and he was Ethan.

Then back to Vance.

Each switch seamless. Effortless.

Tyler trembled.

“Why… why are you showing me this now?”

Coach Vance smiled.

“Because it’s more fun when someone knows the game… and still loses.”

He turned and walked to the door. Unlocked it.

Before stepping out, he glanced back one last time.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

And then he was gone.

---

Coach Owen Vance, Shane, and Ethan still attend their occupation at school.

Because he didn’t need to disappear.

Not when the truth was unbelievable.

He was still here.

All of him.

And no one would ever know.

Or maybe, he is around us...

---

End.

[glossykissies]

thinking about dale who treats you like you’re his granddaughter, constantly being nosy and overprotective— and hates shane.

and then we have shane, who knows this. he stays out of dales way for the most part aside from the odd disagreement, but you’ve told him to chill. dales an old man with a broken heart and he needs this. so, shane tries. until dale pushes his luck.

“if you’re gonna pack up and go i suggest you do it right now.” the old man speaks suddenly, appearing behind shane as he’s rummaging the RV preparing to train those at the farm who were willing.

the buzzed hair man turns around, scoffing out a chuckle as he looks around.

“you kidding me man?”

“dead serious. you’ve done enough around here and the last thing anyone needs is you runnin’ around tainting that poor girls mind with your nonsense. she is too. young.” dale weakly points his finger, wide eyed and accusatory. shane licks his lips, trying to control himself as he slowly strolls towards him.

“n’whos gonna make me leave, huh? you? ‘cus… ‘cus it sure as hell ain’t her. shit, that girl would be dead without me, that what you want?” he tilts his head, before the smirk returns. it’s dark, malicious, sinister. “nah, but this ain’t about that, is it?”

“you’re a danger.” dale defends.

“i save your asses every damn day.” shane rebukes the point, waving a dismissive hand. “nah, you… you got some fucked up… attachment to her and i think it’s time you let it go, man. she’s an adult. she wants to… hang around with me and do whatever then that’s her choice.” he barks before wandering off down the RV, continuing to search for his gun that he knew the old man was hiding.

“she doesn’t have a parental figure. hell, son she was probably looking for that in you and you took advantage of he—”

“i didn’t take advantage of shit.” shane whisper yells, lurching forward to shove a finger in his face. “she came onto me she — she was hungry for it and wanted to feel good and shit, i delivered. i gave her what she wanted and you know what i liked it. i’ll do it again tonight, i’ll do it again tomorrow and i’ll keep doin’ it as long as she’ll let me.” he’s wound up now, running a hand down his face, mouth turned downstairs, nostrils flared. “now i—i don’t know how much play you got back in your day, judging by the way you’re carryin’ on it clearly weren’t much, but when a girl comes onto you like that… you can’t say no. it’s impossible as a man.”

dale is stunned into silence at the sheer audacity of the man, and that’s enough to satisfy shane — so he continues rummaging, thinking he might have found the duffel bag.

“take advantage.” he scoffs to himself. “you di’nt see her. she loves that shit. never seen eyes rolled back like that but yeah, i took advantage.” he shrugs, not sparing dale of the details as he grabs his rifle, hoisting up and storming off past the old man, leaving him with a brutal lasting image.

[but-a-humble-goon]

It feels so fucking weird that Rockstar of all studios somehow created one of the most subversive and well written female supporting characters in gaming's recent years.

Sadie's introduced, shall we say, exactly as you'd expect a woman to in these kinds of stories. She's a damsel in distress, horrifically victimized by a gang of violent thugs who the "heroic" Dutch gang demonstrate they are better men than by rescuing and comforting her then being motivated by her suffering into taking action to kill the guys who did this to her. And if that had been the last we'd ever seen of Sadie she would fit right in with so many women in the background of so many westerns.

Instead though, she sticks around for the whole story, learns the gun, eventually becomes one of the most reliably skilled (and unhealthily enthusiastic) killers in the gang and wreaks her own bloody path of vengeance against what's left of the O'Driscolls, mercilessly hunting them to the last man in a fashion so violent even the hardened lifelong criminals are a little taken aback.

Now that's already doing a lot to be subversive but I think the thing that most got me about her story is it avoids becoming straightforwardly a "good person becomes corrupted into a monster by trauma and violence" story. Sadie goes very, VERY dark sure and she even gets the Unforgiven/Shane ending where there's no going back from the killing for her. John Marston gets to go live a mostly peaceful domestic life on a ranch with his family (at least until RDR1 happens) but Sadie decides this is all she has left and becomes a bounty hunter

Despite all that though, Sadie Adler never really stops being a good person. At least good relative to RDR2 where everybody's a criminal and a murderer. She takes charge, saves the whole gang and holds them all together when things are at their worst and even when the chips are down and the gang turns on itself and begins to drown in its own blood she remains one of the real ones. She comes to be one of the last people Arthur can rely on in the world. She consistently protects the others and puts them before herself. She always helps without ever needing to be asked. She never leaves anybody behind.

Something that stands out to me is there's multiple times where she assertively protects the male protagonists. She orders Arthur to stay well behind while she goes in to save Abigail by herself because he's sick and she keeps trying to talk John into going home to be with his family because unlike her he has something to lose.

Basically Sadie Adler is great and I love her. She's so much more textured, nuanced and just plain awesome than we normally get especially in stories of this kind and her story is handled with an honestly shocking amount of sympathy that I have come to really not expect from Rockstar.

[that-sudsy]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1302. Masterlist

Truth Serum

The sun was setting over the war-torn landscape, casting long shadows across the makeshift base where Task Force 141 was regrouping. The air was thick with tension, the kind that only comes after a long day of combat. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood at the edge of the armory, reloading his weapon with his usual precision, his mask hiding the smirk that often accompanied his dry humor.

“Hey, Ghost, you got that new rookie with you?” Gaz called out, glancing over his shoulder. The rookie, a fresh-faced soldier named Shane, was wandering around the armory, wide-eyed and curious.

“Yeah, he’s right here,” Ghost replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Just keep an eye on him. He’s still learning the ropes.”

As Gaz turned to check on Shane, he noticed the rookie picking up a weapon that was clearly not meant for him. “Hey, hey! Put that down!” Gaz shouted, but it was too late. The weapon discharged, and a tranquilizer dart flew through the air, hitting you squarely in the butt.

You yelped, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness wash over you. “What the—?” you started, but the world began to spin, and you stumbled forward, your vision blurring. The last thing you saw was Ghost’s concerned expression before everything went black.

When you came to, you were sitting on the floor, surrounded by your teammates. Price was kneeling beside you, a bemused look on his face. “Well, that’s just great,” he muttered with annoyance, glancing at Shane, who was sheepishly trying to explain himself.

“Sorry, mate! I didn’t mean to—”

“Save it,” Price interrupted, shaking his head. “What did you shoot her with?”

Gaz shrugged, looking guilty. “He thought it was just a regular tranquilizer. He didn’t know it was a truth serum dart!”

You blinked, trying to process what was happening. “Truth serum?” you mumbled, your tongue feeling heavy. Suddenly, you felt a surge of warmth and confidence. You glanced at each one of them until your eyes landed on Ghost, and what you saw was floating pink hearts around him as you squealed like a fangirl, “I love you, Simon Rileyyyyyyyy!” You blurted out, your cheeks flushing as you realized what you had just said.

Ghost’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he tried to maintain his stoic demeanor, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. “Uh, right,” he said, trying to play it cool. “Let’s just focus on getting you back on your feet.”

But the serum was already working its magic. You found yourself standing up, swaying slightly as you began to dance awkwardly, your body moving to a rhythm only you could hear. “I’m a great dancer, right?” you declared, your voice loud and slightly slurred. “I mean, look at me! I’m fabulous!!!!!”

The team exchanged glances, half-amused and half-concerned. Price chuckled, while Gaz facepalmed. “This is going to be a long night,” he muttered.

Just then, John "Soap" MacTavish strolled into the armory, his usual swagger on full display. “What’s all this then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene unfolding before him. “Did I miss a party?”

You turned to Soap, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Soap! You’re just in time! I’m the best dancer ever! Watch this!” You twirled around, nearly losing your balance but catching yourself just in time.

Soap laughed, his infectious energy filling the room. “Aye, lass! Show us what you’ve got!” He joined you in an exaggerated dance, mimicking your awkward moves, and soon the two of you were spinning around, much to the amusement of the others.

As you continued to dance, you started to blurt out your thoughts without a filter. “Ghost, you’re so broody! But I like it! It’s like you’re a dark knight or something!” You twirled around, pointing at him dramatically. “And your voice? Ugh, it’s like butter! I could listen to you read the phone book!”

Ghost’s expression shifted from surprise to a hint of amusement. “You’re not wrong,” he said, crossing his arms. “But maybe tone it down a bit?”

“Tone it down? Never!” you declared, giggling. “And Soap, you’re just a big ball of chaos! I love that about you! You make everything fun!”

Soap grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. “Aye, that’s the spirit! Life’s too short to be serious all the time!”

As the hours passed, the effects of the serum continued to unravel your inhibitions. You found yourself sprawled on the floor, laughing uncontrollably at your own jokes, while Ghost kept a watchful eye on you, a mix of amusement and concern etched on his face.

“Okay, okay, I have a serious question,” you said, suddenly sitting up straight. “If you could be any animal, what would you be?”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the randomness of your inquiry. “A wolf,” he replied, his tone serious. “They’re strong and loyal.”

You nodded, impressed. “That’s deep! I’d be a cat! They’re cute and can nap all day. Plus, I’d get to knock things off tables without anyone getting mad at me!”

Soap chimed in, “I’d be a hawk! Soaring high and free, no one can catch me!”

Price shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face. “You lot are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is my middle name!” you declared, striking a pose. “But seriously, Simon, you should try being more like a cat. Just chill and enjoy life!”

Ghost couldn’t help but smirk at your antics. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of warmth.

Soap grinned taking the opportunity to ask "who's the most handsome man in the room"

Without hesitation you answered "Simon, I would go on a date with hi-" you blurted out before covering you mouth to stop yourself from talking

As the night wore on, you began to feel the effects of the serum wearing off, but not before you had one last burst of honesty. “You know, I really admire you, Simon,” you said, your voice softening. “You’re always so strong and brave. I wish I could be more like you.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the tough exterior cracked just a little. “You’re stronger than you think,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “You just need to believe it.”

Soap, sensing the moment, jumped in with a cheeky grin. “And don’t forget, you’ve got the best dance moves in the squad! We could use that on the battlefield!”

You laughed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and joy. “Maybe I should start a dance-off during missions! That’ll confuse the enemy!”

As the hours dragged on, you found yourself leaning against Ghost, your eyelids growing heavy. “Thanks, Ghost,” you murmured, feeling safe in his presence. “You’re the best.”

“Just doing my job,” he replied, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

With that, you felt a wave of drowsiness wash over you, and you leaned against Ghost, drifting off to sleep. The last thing you heard was Soap’s laughter and Ghost’s soft voice assuring you that everything would be alright.

As you slept on Ghost's lap, he couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the next 48 hours would be interesting, to say the least. He would be there to keep you safe, and maybe, just maybe, he’d get to see a side of you that was usually hidden beneath the surface. After all, honesty between you was better than believing in a lie hidden behind a fake facade.

Borders by @saradika-graphics

🍅 Disclaimer: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for your support! Please note that I do not own any of the characters or images featured in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

© 2024 that-sudsy. Your creativity means the world to me! I kindly ask that you refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, or translating my work in any form. Thank you for your understanding 

[lilypadeater]

Break Me Down

Rick Grimes x Fem!Reader

Summary- Rick and Hershel's oldest daughter can't keep their eyes off each other. They go to retrieve some walkers for the barn. Rick is kind of an asshole so ig this is angsty too. Enemies to loves

Content information: unedited, 18+, smut, p in v unprotected, choking i guess, enemies to lovers, age gap (mid 20s and early 40s), angst, plot, asshole rick, flirting, pet names, making out, fluff, some walker killing

Your eyes scanned over Rick as he helped your father with farming chores. You already disliked the idea a group of strangers living on the farm, but their leader's cold behavior towards you made you hate it. You didn't understand why Rick was so harsh to you compared to the rest of the family. He treated your younger sisters, Maggie and Beth, completely normal. But whenever you tried to strike up a conversation, he would try to immediately end it or give you dry responses. He wasn't like this with anyone else, so you couldn't understand why he was like this with you.

The strangest part of it all was how he would look at you. Was is in a murderous or flirtatious way? You couldn't tell. What you did know though, was that you found him attractive. Guilt ate at you whenever you caught yourself staring at him.

'He has a wife and a son. And I'm pretty sure he hates me.' You remind yourself when you noticed you'd been glancing at him too much. He was cleaning the stables with Daryl. You decided to take one more look at him before directing you attention back to feeding the chickens. But as you took your last peek, you accidentally lock eyes with him, making it obvious that you were staring. You quickly turn your head and go back to sprinkling seeds around for the chickens.

Rick's eyes roamed over you as timidly looked away. A smirk was plastered on his face when he realized you'd been staring. Hershel would probably kill him if he found out how much he wanted fuck you. Rick would never risk his group getting kicked off the farm just for some girl.

The problem was, in his eyes, you were a diamond in the rough. You weren't just some girl. Seeing you help Carl when he was shot, caring for the animals with so much love, and your kindness towards everyone made his realize just how rare you really were. This kind of naiveness wasn't something you could find in the apocalypse. You were beautiful inside and out and you were the perfect distraction from Lori and Shane.

When you finished up feeding the animals, you were approached by your father. "I was gonna show Rick how to retrieve the sick and put them into the barn, but it's much too hot for me. You're the oldest of your sisters and most experienced at this, so I need you to take him down to the swamp and rescue our neighbors." He explains.

You sigh in irritation. You disagreed with your father when it came to the subject of walkers. You believed they were no longer the people they used to be and they couldn't be saved. You've tried to explain this to him multiple times, but it always ends in an argument. "Fine," you agreed. You hated having to go near the walkers, but on the bright side, you were going to be able to spend some time with Rick and find out why he didn't like you.

You led Rick into the forest with the leashes. There was an awkward silence between you two. "I know my dad explained his version of the world to you already, but I just wanted to tell you that I don't agree with his ideology." You announced, breaking the ice.

"At least you have more sense than him." He replied. You nodded and guided him to the swamp that had trapped with two walkers with it's mud.

You took the leash and carefully approached one of them. You began to explain how to catch one, "You have to get it around their neck, and hold them about and arms width away otherwise-'" You slipped on the mud and and accidentally let the walker loose. It immediately lunges for you but Rick shoots it. It falls into the mud and you scramble to your feet. "Oh my god, thank you." You tell him with a panicked and breathless voice.

"Was that a part of catching them?" He mockingly asks. He crosses his arms in impatience and watches you get up.

You furrow your eyebrows in disdain and and feel you face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah it is. Probably the most crucial part." You reply sarcastically. 'He looks so hot, such a shame he's dick.' You thought to yourself as he took his leash and captured the second walker.

Rick loved getting under your skin. Seeing your flustered face made his heart race and forget all about Lori and Shane. Your witty remarks back to him would make him forget that the world's gone to shit. He decided to further your irritation and say, "So all you do is look pretty and feed the animals?"

Your heart jumped when he called you pretty. You retorted, "You just sit around while your wife get knocked up by other men?" You realized what you said was harsh and might've crossed a boundary, but you were sick of his attitude towards you.

"She ain't my wife anymore." He mutters, keeping his focus on the walker he's leading.

Guilt crept up on you. Sure, he was an asshole, but you weren't. You couldn't swoop to his level, so you sigh and say, "I'm sorry. That was rude of me, I was just bothered by what you said."

He smirks and shakes his head. "S'alright."

You tried to walk the rest of the way in silence, apart from the snarls of the walker Rick had on the leash. But the question of why he was always cold to you played in your head. 'If he wanted to murder me, he would've let the walker eat me. Is there a chance he might be, interested in me?' Now you just had to know.

You came to a sudden stop and turned towards him. He was confused by your actions and stopped along side you. "Why'd we stop?" He asks, annoyed with you.

You ignore his question and ask him, "Why do you hate me?"

He was taken aback by your bluntness and shrugged. "I don't hate you," he replies and takes a step closer to you, meeting your doe eyes with his piercing blue ones. "I think you're beautiful."

Your eyes widen with surprise and your cheeks heat up. You glance to the ground then look back up. "Then why are you so mean to me?" You quietly asked.

He smiles before leaning in closing to you. "I like seeing your pretty face all red." He replies as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face. "I hate that I can't have you." He mutters as he kisses your forehead.

Your body is rushing with adrenaline and serotonin. "You can." You whisper before wrapping your hands around his chiseled face and kissing him. His free hand wrapped around your waist as he deepened the kiss, but the snarl of the walker brought you both back to reality.

He back the walker up against a tree and smashed its head with the metal part of the leash. "Whoops." He said as it fell to the floor.

"Why'd you do that? My dad's gonna be pissed." You complained, ready to scold him, but he grabbed your head and crashed his lips onto yours. You lean into it and gasp when one of his hands traveled from your face to your thigh. You could feel yourself getting wet as his hand creeped up to the hem of your shorts. You break away from the heated make out session to catch your breath. "Fuck, let's go somewhere else." You tell him in between breathes and he lifts you into his arms.

You directed him towards a nearby abandoned cottage. He checks the area out to make sure it's safe before taking you inside. You push him onto the bed and climb on top of him. You pull his shirt off and admire his toned body. "You had your turn," he smirks and flips you over so that he's on top. He takes you shirt off and it reveals your bare breasts. He leans in and kisses your neck, slowly making his way down. You shivered at the feeling and your hands gripped his back.

His hands slid down to the waistband of your shorts, making your skin tingle under his warm touch. He pulled your shorts off in a swift motion and looked amused when it revealed your soaked underwear. “S’this all for me, angel? I barely touched you and look at all this.” Rick teased as he yanked it off you and threw it to the the side. You whimpered in response, blushing in embarrassment and wrapping your hands around his muscular torso.

His fingers went up and down your slit, causing you to whine in anticipation before he began rubbing your clit. The new sensation produced whimpers and moans from you, but he was clearly going slow as a form of torture for you. You tried you grind against his fingers in order to reach your release but his other hand quickly held you hips down. You squirmed around but his hold on you was strong and he took pleasure in seeing you hot and bothered. You cry out in frustration, craving more friction and speed.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” He mutters with a sadistic smile. Two fingers enter your pussy as he continues to tease your clit with his thumb.

You breathlessly manage to whine “I need you in me” as he edges you. He feels his cock throbbing in his jeans as the words leave your mouth.

“You’re gonna be grateful I’m getting you ready for it” he hissed and added a third finger, stretching your needy cunt. You arch your back and moan loudly as your pussy clenches around his fingers. After you come down from your high, you sit up and your hands quickly work to undo his belt. Your eyes widened when you saw his rock hard cock under the denim of his jeans. It was massive. Before you could unbutton his jeans, he grabbed you and flipped you onto your stomach.

You hear the sound of his jeans falling to the floor as you get onto yours knees and elbows. Your pussy was on display for him. His large hand wrapped around your waist as he brought the tip of his cock to your entrance. You turn your head to see and nearly gasp when you see how large he his is. “There’s no way in hell it’s gonna fit” You whine and squirm.

He comfortingly rubs your back with his hand and replies “it will, baby. It’ll only hurt a little, but I’ll be gentle.” His words gave you some comfort and he slowly pushed into your drenched cunt. It was uncomfortable and painful when he stretched your walls with his huge cock, but the pain was eased as you adjusted. He filled you up completely and groaned when he felt your tight count wrapped around him. “I’m gonna start moving, ‘kay baby?” You nodded in approval and be began slowly thrusting. He gripped your hips roughly as he rammed into you, definitely bruising you. You moaned in ecstasy as he met your g spot in every thrust.

Rick had thrown his previous statement out the window as he roughly fucked you into oblivion. He wrapped his hand around your neck and it sent chills down your spine. It sent you over the edge as your walls clenched around his cock. Your legs trembled and gave out, but his hand quick grabbed your hip and held you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight” He hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You mewled at the overstimulation of being fucked through your orgasm and clenched around him again. His thrusts finally stopped as he finished inside of you, filling you up with his cum. He pulls out and you stretch out the bed, exhausted. He lays next you, gently stroking your hair.

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

this is my first time writing smut

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO MUCH IM NEVER GONNA BE THE SAME

give me requests!

[dreaminofdixon]

Seventeen.

I could keep changing this up and trying to perfect it - I'd never stop. SO many versions of this specific scene written and saved in notes. Here's what I settled on... "Felt right, might delete later?" :)

So long, but hopefully you think it's as worth it as I did!

We’d settled into the house last night. Everyone found a place to land like it was routine—like we hadn’t been running, trying to find something resembling security. But this morning, I was alone. Wrapped in a silence that felt too big for the world in its current state.

Crickets chirped in the distance. Leaves whispered overhead. The wind nudged gently at the old bones of the house. Somewhere, a bird called out—sharp, sudden, gone.

The kind of quiet I used to crave. The kind I used to think meant peace.

Now, it felt like a weight pressing down on my chest. A hush too thick to breathe through. Like the sky was holding its breath with me.

I leaned against the sun-warmed siding, knees drawn up to my chest, arms locked tightly around them like I could somehow hold myself together. I didn’t know if I was trying to protect myself from the world—or from whatever was unraveling inside me.

I’d teased him about that comment he made. Just playing around—on my end, at least. I knew Daryl wasn’t ready for things to change. Hell, I probably wasn’t either. But knowing that didn’t soften the truth: my feelings were already dangerously involved.

That little confession between us had been a live grenade. Pin pulled. Left sitting there.

It hadn’t gone off yet, but it ticked in the silence, waiting. And I didn’t know if it would end in fire—or something worth surviving for.

Valhalla?

Valhella.

My mouth tilted at the thought, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Daryl had gone out hunting, disappearing into the trees the way he always did when we found a place safe enough to pause. The farmhouse we’d stumbled into was a place secure enough to exhale, even if only for a few days, and I’d used the pause to distance myself from everyone else.

Carol and Lori were inside, nesting—rearranging things, wiping down cabinets with threadbare cloths and determination, pretending this place could be something more than just a stopover. Andrea and Shane were off scavenging. Glenn and Rick patrolled the perimeter like restless ghosts, eyes sharp, shoulders tense, like they could hold the apocalypse back with willpower alone. Dale sat perched on his RV like a lighthouse keeper, scanning the horizon. And T-Dog had taken watch over the kids, keeping them distracted, safe.

And me?

I was here. Finally still. Letting the quiet seep into my bones like sunlight. The air smelled clean—just dirt and dry grass and distant pine. For once, the world didn’t feel like it was pressing in on me from all sides. For once, I wasn’t thinking about death, or defense, or hunger. I wasn’t thinking at all.

Then I saw him.

Just a shadow moving at first, between the trees. The shape of him was unmistakable—bow slung low, stride sure, head down like he had too many thoughts to pick it up. Even from here, I could feel him. The weight he carried. The purpose in every step.

I looked away too quickly. Like I’d been caught.

Because everything in me wanted to watch him. To call out. To touch him.

God, I wanted him to touch me.

A shiver rolled through me, sharp and involuntary, and I buried my face in my arms with a low groan. What the hell happened to me? I used to be so good at being alone. So at peace in my own skin. That girl could go weeks without needing anyone. That girl didn’t chase, didn’t ache, didn’t want.

Now?

One glance from him and I was a mess of nerves and want and barely-tethered restraint. One look, and I was unraveling. 

The porch creaked behind me—slow, heavy, familiar. I didn’t need to look up. I already knew.

He sat beside me, close enough that his body heat brushed mine. He mirrored my posture, knees drawn up, arms resting on them, his back pressing lightly against the wall. 

“Find anything?” I asked, my voice muffled against my arm.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good.”

Silence settled between us again, heavy and thick with things unsaid.

Then I felt it. A light brush against my arm. Barely there.

I looked up.

A rose. Small. Pale pink. Its petals soft and open just enough to show it had bloomed recently. Just enough to make my breath catch.

“What…” I breathed, blinking in confusion.

“Princess’s gotta have flowers, right?” he muttered, still staring straight ahead, like the gesture didn’t mean anything. Like he wasn’t holding something sacred in his calloused hand.

Daryl’s fingers curled tighter around the stem as he handed it to her, already bracing for her to laugh. Or worse—look away.

He felt ridiculous the second the words left his mouth. Merle would’ve laughed him straight into the dirt. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to pick it. But when he saw that flower—wild and soft by the fence—he thought of her. There was nothing poetic about it—he wasn’t good with that shit. But she was that flower. Tough. Beautiful. Something that didn’t belong in a world like this and somehow still survived.

So he picked it.

Stuck it in his pocket.

Carried it back.

And gave it to her with his heart thudding in his throat.

I stared at the flower. Then at him. That unreadable face. Stone and steel, but somehow soft around the edges. A flicker of vulnerability.

“For me?”

He nodded once. “Mm-hmm.”

I took it carefully, brushing my fingertips across the petals. Something inside me folded. Tightened. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in ages. Not because it was perfect.

Because it was from him.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. “It’s beautiful.”

He didn’t respond, but I caught it—that tiny shift in his posture. The breath he let out like he’d been holding it for hours.

“You know,” I said, glancing at him sideways, “you’re kinda sweet when you want to be.”

He grunted. A sound halfway between discomfort and denial.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I added, lips curving into a teasing grin. “Promise. It’ll be one of those secrets I keep for you.”

He didn’t look at me, but the corner of his lips twitched. Then his hand moved—casual, unhurried—and landed on my knee. Warm. Rough. Heavy in a way that made everything inside me sit up and take notice. His forearm rested comfortably across my thigh.

Butterflies exploded in my stomach. My whole body went buzzing like he’d flipped some hidden switch.

He wanted to say it didn’t mean anything. That he hadn't meant to touch her. Hadn't thought about it.

But it did. And he had.

She looked up at him. His gaze locked with hers.

And suddenly the air was thick and electric.

“I ain’t no romantic guy,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “An’ I can’t be what ya deserve.”

His thumb brushed lightly over her denim-clad knee, his eyes falling to where their bodies touched. His voice was low, almost ashamed.

“I don’t got nothin’ t’ give.” 

I hesitated, then traced the rough line of his knuckles with my fingers, soft and slow. Drawing shapes that didn’t mean anything, just to keep touching him.

“What makes you think I want anything but you? Just like this.”

I leaned into him, my head resting on his shoulder. Like I belonged there.

Daryl nearly forgot how to breathe.

She was soft against him. Warm. Real.

And all his instincts screamed to pull away. To shut this down before it broke him open.

But he didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

She turned his hand over in hers, and he let her. Her palm was warm, delicate. Trusting. His fingers curled slowly around hers, unsure, then firm. Needing that anchor.

He dropped his chin to rest against her head. Closed his eyes. Just breathed her in. 

He knew he was in too deep. That he’d walk through hell, burn the whole world down to protect her if it came to it.

She was a glimpse of something good. Something he thought had gone when the world turned to shit.

“Can’t lose ya,” he murmured, barely audible, but every word hit like a hammer.

I looked up, and suddenly we were eye to eye—so close I could feel the heat of his breath. He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world, and my heart slammed against my ribs.

“You won’t,” I whispered, meaning it with everything in me.

His hand rose—slow, careful—and his thumb brushed over my lips, parting them slightly before he leaned in. I gasped, barely, just enough for his breath to catch too. His thumb lingered.

Then he kissed me.

Soft. Hesitant. Honest. The kind of kiss that every little girl dreams of with her Prince Charming. 

I kissed him back—and everything inside me sighed in relief. Like my soul had been waiting forever for this.

Daryl’s thoughts vanished. 

Everything narrowed to her—her lips, her scent, the warmth of her mouth moving with his. He’d kissed before. But never like this. Never with everything in him. Never like it meant something, like it might undo him completely.

She kissed him like she knew him—like she’d always known him. And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel broken.

He pulled back because he had to. Because if he didn’t stop, he’d fall all the way in.

He turned his gaze to the field, jaw clenching tight, heart hammering like it might explode from the inside out. He tried to breathe. Tried to think. Tried to make sense of it all.

He was shaking. Not visibly. But deep in his bones.

That kiss had undone him. Broken through a wall he hadn’t realized was still there. He wasn’t built for soft things, but she made him want to be.

She felt too right. Too close. Too dangerous.

He’d built his world on silence. On solitude. And one kiss—one gentle, devastating kiss—had rewritten everything.

He wanted to believe this was real. That she meant it. That she wouldn’t disappear the second she was alone with her thoughts.

Everything in me was on fire. His kiss lingered on my skin like sunlight. 

We’d been close to each other before—on the bike, during quiet nights at camp—but not like this. Not like it mattered.

Maybe that’s what scared me the most?

If I let myself fall into this, I wouldn’t come back the same. Daryl wasn’t a man you flirted with and walked away from. You either meant it or you didn’t get to have him.

But then I saw it—that tension in his jaw. The way he looked away like he’d already decided this couldn’t last. The regret already creeping in around the edges. 

And panic seized my chest.

“Look,” I began gently. “I don’t want things to change.”

I looked down, our fingers still twined.

Then, slowly, I let go.

And I regretted it instantly.

He turned toward me like he wanted to say something.

I shook my head.

“I like you, Daryl,” I said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “And I think you like me too. But I don’t want to lose what we already have just because this gets… complicated. Not for something uncertain.”

I reached up, brushing my thumb across his jaw, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“You’re the only person I have,” I whispered. "And I can’t lose that just because I haven’t been touched in, like, a decade."

The laugh that followed caught in my throat. It was too close to breaking.

Her words hit him like a gut punch.

It wasn’t just about needing to be touched. It was her. It had always been her. She was the only thing that made this world feel like more than survival. She was hope.

And she scared the hell out of him.

Because he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.

He wanted to tell her all of that.

But he couldn’t.

He froze. Paralyzed by the fear that if he spoke, she’d vanish. If he reached, she’d slip through his fingers.

I leaned in once more, kissed him slowly, memorizing the way his mouth fit against mine, the way he tasted. Our lips matched like opposing molds, like they were made for each other.

Then I stood.

“We can forget this happened, okay?” My voice cracked as I tried to smile. “I’ll catch up with you later?”

And I walked away before I lost the nerve.

The sun hit my face as the first tear slipped free.

Maybe this was the right thing to do.

But it didn’t feel like it.

Daryl didn’t stop her.

He watched her go, every step carving a deeper ache in his chest. The way she wiped at her face when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He should’ve said something. Stood. Reached out. Anything.

But he didn’t.

He just sat there.

Silent. Still.

Wondering how the hell he’d managed to fuck up the one thing he dared to care about.

****

The first kiss is in the books! Initially, I had this idea for something super intense and physical. And then I realized that I didn't want "them" to start like that. That after so long of the flirting and growing closer and getting to know each other, it had to be something a little scary. A little hesitant.

Do we want to risk ruining this?

Can we risk losing each other?

Can I survive losing you?

Side note: Can I find myself a Daryl? Please? Geez.

@imadisneyprincessiswear

@knight-of-the-doctor

@lisluvstwd

[millermouth]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 34

Summary: you're caught under Shane's grip, whose violent intentions and past manipulations come to light as you fight to survive. At the same time, Daryl uncovers disturbing evidence of foul play and realizes you’re in danger, prompting him to urgently follow the trail into the woods.

warnings!!!! violence toward fmc

x flash forward x

x flash forward x

You

Your heart stutters, panic surging through your veins as you struggle beneath Shane, but his weight keeps you down. He managed to throw you to the ground with ease when he had emerged into the clearing after you. His boot presses harder now, grinding you into the ground, and all you can manage is a choked breath. Shane crouches down, his face close to yours, the smell of sweat and dirt overwhelming.

Where the hell was Rick? But you already had the terrible sinking feeling in the back of your mind. When you took off running, that had never been part of the plan. Shane was never supposed to reach you, or at least Rick was supposed to be there when he did. But when he didn’t come and no one stepped out of the trees for you— you knew you were alone. The fears you felt about the holes in this plan were coming true. You’re alone with Shane, and he’s ready to do what it takes to get what he wants.

“You think you’re clever,” he spits, his voice dripping with disdain. “Thought you’d sneak Randall out, keep playin’ hero. You always did like to get in my way.”

You try to twist away, but his grip is iron, his fingers digging into your arm as he drags you roughly to your feet, only to slam you back against a tree. The bark scratches at your back, pain radiating up your spine as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make breathing a struggle.

“Y’know what else?” Shane growls, his face close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. "I saved you countless times, Y/N, and yet you always fought against me. When it was me who got the medical supplies the day you were shot. It was me who made the move to kill the walkers in the barn— protecting everyone. It was me who tried to save you from the trailer trash you were becoming. But you could never let him go, even though he was always bringing you down. 

"And now, even after everything I’ve done for you, you can't ever back off. Can't stop gettin' in my way. I’ve kept this group alive. I killed Otis to get back to you, I never once put you at risk of getting hurt. But all you can think of is how I’ve controlled you, Jesus. I can’t control you, you’re a fucking mess, you can’t even control yourself, dammit!" His fists on you tighten with anger as he says the last words, and you feel your world narrowing to this--here and now, where Shane might actually kill you.

"God, and watchin’ you and Daryl fall apart back then... All that whinin’, all that cryin’ over him? Sure, I tried to actually protect you, keep you from ruining your life. But seein' your friendship crumble was the highlight of it all. Though, you would hop to any man who gave you some affection, huh?”

Your vision swims, panic clawing at you as you try to shove him off, but his grip tightens. You can’t break free. Every muscle in your body screams to fight, to run, but Shane’s strength overpowers you. He leans in, his words biting into your skin like a poison.

“And you wanna know somethin’ else? You remember that day you called Daryl, beggin’ for him to talk to you again? Yeah, you remember. You cried my ear off all night over the phone after that. Me and the guys beat the shit outta him after that. I wanted to teach him a lesson—show him what happens when he doesn’t keep his promises when it came to stayin’ away from you.”

Your blood runs cold, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Daryl. He beat Daryl because of you. The night at Henderson’s when you’d seen him with  a black eye and busted lip. After weeks of not talking, only that one phone call when he finally picked up. It was your fault he was beaten to a pulp. You called Shane that night to tell him about the phone call, how you didn’t understand why Daryl was pulling away so fast. The tears prickle at your eyes, from the memory and the feeling of Shane’s hand crushing your windpipe. You try to lash out, to shove him off, but Shane’s fist slams into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. You double over, gasping for breath, pain radiating through your ribs.

“God, it was all too easy! Threaten Daryl that I’d plant some evidence, give his dear old junkie nobody brother some serious time, and he was quick to move off you! Didn’t take much,” he leers at you. 

“I was hopin’ when the world went to hell, I’d be done with you,” Shane continues, his voice rough as he steps back, letting you fall to your knees. “Thought I’d be through with all your bullshit, all that whinin’ over Daryl. You stopped bein’ a hot piece of ass and turned into an annoyin’ kid. Nothin’ but a liability.”

You try to push yourself up, your whole body trembling, but Shane’s boot connects with your side, sending you sprawling back to the ground. The pain sears through you, but the physical hurt is nothing compared to the sting of his words.

“And then Lori...” Shane’s voice turns darker, more twisted. “You know, I always liked Lori. Even when I was with you, I was thinkin’ about her. Hell, I was like a brother to Rick, able to stay so close. Lori? She lapped it up, but of course wouldn’t do nothin about it back then. Then Rick went into that coma and the world went to hell. Thought I finally had her all to myself.”

His words twist deeper, more cruel. You choke on the pain, your vision blurred as you try to crawl away, but he grabs you by the collar, yanking you back.

"I had something good with Lori before you and Rick showed up," he snarled, "And then you came and she saw that you were a little too close for comfort--afraid of what you and I were. You pushed her further away from me without even having to fucking lift a finger. Always in my way. Always keeping me from what I want. Whether it was you or Lori. And now you’re keeping me from being a father to that baby in her,"

You manage to get a hand up, shoving at him with what little strength you have left. “I didn’t—” you start, but Shane’s fist connects with your jaw, the force sending a sharp crack through your skull. The world spins around you as you hit the ground again, stars exploding behind your eyes.

“I was done with you back then,” he spits, standing over you, his eyes wild. “But here we are. You keep stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong. Thought you could run, huh?”

You struggle to push yourself up, your body screaming in protest, but Shane’s foot presses hard against your ribs again, forcing you back down. Every breath feels like a knife in your chest.

“But you ain’t runnin’ now, sweetheart. You’re right where I want you.”

The cold finality in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You know you can’t escape. No one was coming to save you—to stop this. Not this time. Your body feels weak, your mind frantic, searching for any way out. But his weight, his presence, is overwhelming, suffocating.

-----

Daryl

“He’s got no bites,” Daryl mutters, crouching down to inspect the lifeless body of what was once Randall. His flashlight beam flickers over the decaying skin, but there are no visible signs of a walker bite.

“Yeah, none that you can see,” Glenn replies, his voice shaky, still catching his breath from the struggle. He wipes his forehead, sweat and dirt smearing together.

“No,” Daryl insists, his voice firmer now. “I’m tellin’ you, he didn’t turn from a bite.” He angles the flashlight, highlighting the snapped neck, the unnatural bend in Randall’s spine. “He died from this,” Daryl says, pointing to the jagged break, the proof that someone had to have done this.

“How is that possible?” Glenn asks, his voice quiet but incredulous. They look at each other then, their eyes meeting. The weight of that truth hangs heavy in the air, unsettling. Glenn swallows hard, the realization dawning on him, the idea that someone killed the kid in cold blood gnawing at his already frayed nerves.

“Get back to the farm, Glenn,” Daryl says, his voice gruff but steady, his gaze locked on the dark woods ahead.

Glenn hesitates, his brow furrowed in concern. “But what about—” His eyes dart to the woods, worry etched into his face.

“Just go,” Daryl snaps, already moving again. There’s no time for discussion. No time for anything but finding you.

Daryl watches him disappear into the shadows, then turns his attention back to the woods, his flashlight sweeping over the darkened path. The tracks are hurried now, you’ve spun on the spot and run fast. The other pair of footsteps—larger, heavier—are right up behind you for a while. Daryl sets into a trot, following your hurried, messy, panicked steps further into the woods. There’s only one person who would follow after you like this, someone he hadn’t seen searching the barn earlier—Shane. The thought alone makes his blood run cold.

[boywivloveficrecs]

CAN SOMEONE HELP ME FIND THIS DARYL FIC !!

So I don't know if anyone will see this and know where to find this fic or if something happened it it but it's been driving me crazy trying to find it under every tag and searching key details into Google but if anyone knows who the author is please tag me where to find it !!!

So the summary as much as I can remember is PRE APOCALYPSE y/n and her friend go to a party that Daryl and merle are also attending or hosting ? I remember the friend and merle are dating so she drags y/n with her, her friend gets her drunk and she ends up having a one night stand with Daryl and ends up pregnant, when she tells Daryl he is adamant it's not his and shuts the door in her face, and it turns out her friend isnt much of a friend and her and merle are quite rude to y/n and get in Daryl's head that shes sleeping around. She's pretty isolated and ends up making her pregnancy work on her own, feeling pretty hurt by Daryl.

When the outbreak starts Daryl drags merle and friend to y/ns apartment only to find it cleared out and only non essentials are left, but daryl finds a polaroid of y/n and her newborn daughter left, he keeps it because theres a small doubt in his mind that friend was lying and its his kid, hes always felt guilty about how he shut her out when she told him.

Readers "friend" is pretty shitty and her and merle are toxic using most of the time, and y/n was super hurt by her friends abandonment.

SEASON 1

Y/n and daughter who is still a baby find their way to the quarry I think Shane and Lori are the ones to meet her on the highway? And she eventually settles with the camp, and runs into Daryl, her friend isn't with him and merle is on the Atlanta run, there's alot of tension, and Daryl ends up saving her from being locked in a car with baby while walkers attack the camp,

They eventually head to the CDC and y/n asks Jenner if he can do DNA tests with the blood samples and she has proof that daughter is Daryl's kid, but is hesitant to show him, eventually Daryl finds the results before they leave the CDC and he's now confronted that the child is his, there's an argument but also alot of soft angst,

After the CDC the friend ends up making an appearance and that's the last chapter I read, I think the friend is called Stella? Starla? It's something like those names I'm sure

But I've been trying to find this fic on tumblr for ages but I can't find it no matter how hard I look does anyone know which fic I'm talking about ?!?!

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 6

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Brief mention of assumptions made about the homeless, family death. Summary: Things have been going so well, that of course life finds a way to interrupt bliss. Notes: We seem to have hit the drama button this week. As always, I apologize for an errors I may have missed, and gif is for vibes not physical representation of characters. Hope you enjoy 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

It’s still astounding to Zach how much shit he has acquired since getting on the cruise ship. He’s spent so much time living in sea bags when he was in the Marines and then out of that same bag when he was homeless, it’s fucking surprising to have to make multiple trips to move his stuff from the cabin that he shares with Shane to the brand new soulmate suite he will share with you. “Fuck.” He hisses, nearly dropping a little trinket he had picked up in Athens.

“Careful.” Shane warns needlessly, lugging in the last box with both arms. This one is books and Zach likes thick hardcovers from street markets.

“Why didn’t you tell me I had too much shit?” Zach grumbles, even though it’s not Shane’s place to say anything. He never takes up too much space in their shared cabin and always keeps his side neat.

“Why the hell would I do that?” His now former roommate huffs. The fact is, Shane never wanted Zach to feel bad about a single damn thing he owned. Not when he had gone so long with so little. “Memories are fuckin’ important, Wellison.”

“Yeah.” He feels a little embarrassed though, that’s a lot of money compiled into that box. Money he could have been saving or using on necessities.

“Stop.” Shane huffs as he stands up again. “I know it’s—it makes you feel guilty. Like every single penny needs to get saved for a rainy day.” He had felt that way too, after getting out of prison and making it through a halfway house. He’d spent a year or so squatting and saving until he finally found steady work that didn’t ask too many questions. There are a lot of similar memories still working their way through Zach’s mind as he navigates the next stage of his life. “What are you saving it for if not to live? To have a life?”

One of the things that he loves and hates about Shane is his ability to read Zach easily. He guesses it’s easier since he’s walked the same path he has and can relate more than anyone else they know. It’s also comforting to know that Zach could possibly be as well adjusted as Shane one day. “You’re right.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Damnit.”

"You okay, baby?" The first thing you hear from the doorway of the suite when you arrive with your arms full of garment bags is Zach swearing, and your brow furrows.

“Yeah!” Zach pops his head up from where he was trying to fit the trunk into the tight space and slams his head on the desk above. “Ow! Fuck!”

"Babe!" You flinch when he swears again, mostly because it comes with hitting his head, and immediately drop what you were carrying onto the nearest piece of furniture. "Take it easy, honey. It doesn't all have to get done instantly."

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He groans, rubbing his head as he straightens up. “Thought I would have everything squared away.”

"There's no hurry," you remind him gently, checking his head for a bump and thankfully finding none. "Hi. It's been like four hours since I saw you last. Way too many."

“Hi.” He smiles even though his head still hurts, happy to see you. “It was too long.”

"Way too long." In fact, it's been long enough for your heart to start hammering just from being around him again, so you have absolutely no shame in going to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

He leans into your touch like he seems to always do. Basking in the simple intimacy that some might take for granted, but not him. “I’ve got all my stuff.” He tells you. “What else do you need to bring?”

“I’ve got one more trip to make.” You tell him, happily bundled into his arms. “I brought some stuff over this morning before bingo.”

“I can help you.” He promises. “I don’t have to be at the club for another hour to start prep.” He knows that he can have his staff do all the prep, but he doesn’t like to do that. It makes him feel guilty, like he’s not earning his paycheck.

“Are you sure?” Searching his face, you but your lip and frown. On the one hand? You’re not going to give up the help, but in the other you don’t want to make him feel like a packhorse.

“Of course I want to help you.” He would be offended, but you had confided that beyond a few friends like Shane, you hadn’t found many people who were willing to exert any extra time or energy when you needed help. Even though you had constantly helped anyone who needed it. “We can make quick work of it together.” He promises, flashing you a reassuring smile.

The instinct to push back and refuse is there, but you know that with Zach it isn’t necessary. Or at least, he had promised you it wasn’t and you have to remind yourself that he has no reason to lie to you. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur instead, dropping a kiss in the corner of his mouth. “It’s just one more trip.”

“Then we will get it all settled.” He loves that you are letting him help and he wraps his arms around you. “So let’s go before I want to drag you over to our new Queen sized bed to try it out.”

“That big bed is going to make such a difference.” And you won’t apologize for a second about sprawling out over him, either.

“Need me to stay?” Shane asks, smirking as if he knows the answer.

“We got it.” You promise him, tucked into Zach’s side. “Go call Diana and tell her that I said hi.”

“He’s going to be happy to have his room all to himself.” Zach chuckles. “I bet their sex talk increases.”

“Guaranteed.” The two of you close the door to your new suite behind you and head back toward your old room for the last of your things. “Ten bucks says he’s halfway back to your old room already for sex.”

“No doubt.” He snorts and knows that he would do the same thing in the other man’s shoes. “But enough about him.” He purrs playfully. “The sooner we get your stuff back here; the sooner we can have our own alone time.”

“Do we have time for a little homecoming before work tonight?” You wink for full effect, already giggling at your own joke.

“Hmmmmmm.” Zach pretended to contemplate it, grinning back at you. “I think it’s necessary at this point.”

Nudging him along the hall, you end up slipping right past him to practically pull him along. "Then why are you walking so slow, Wellison?"

His laughter follows behind you, a light, happy sound as his footsteps speed up to match yours.

The last trip is a few bags of every day items like your cosmetics, jewelry, and hair things, along with bathroom products. It’s nice to have a hand, and River takes it as a last chance to tease Zach about ‘taking you off her hands’. All the teasing in the world doesn’t make her hug you any less though, and you promise her one time that not being roommates anymore doesn’t mean a damn thing for your friendship. It just means hanging out will be even more special now.

“You’ve got a lot of jewelry.” Zach is uneasy holding the bag that seemingly holds hundreds of earrings and necklaces as you both walk back to your new home. A throw over from times where he would and could be accused of stealing a stick of gum. He keeps his hands where you can see them, even if it’s completely ridiculous, considering he is living with you and will be alone in your shared space with this stuff eventually.

“I like thrift shops.” Walking side by side, you lug your bags of cosmetics and bath things down the hall with a anime. “You can always find vintage stuff pretty cheap. A dollar or two for a pair of earrings I can wear on stage, ya know? Sometimes you can even find sets.”

“A couple of dollars?” He frowns slightly. “It’s…costume jewelry?” He asks incredulously. All of your outfits and accessories look extremely expensive.

“I mean…there might be a piece or two that’s worth something because some grandkid didn’t bother to have granny’s jewelry box valued after she died, but yeah.” You shrug, always having been more practical through your life out of necessity. “It’s pretty much all paste stone and glass. Looks pretty, though.”

His shoulders relax significantly and he nods. “Though I think you deserve real jewelry.” He frowns slightly, wondering how much something gorgeous for you would cost him.

“Maybe one day.” In an effort to make him smile, you nudge him with your elbow as you turn down another hallway together. “I’d wear a gum wrapper as long as you were the one who gave it to me.”

"I'll do better than a gum wrapper." He scoffs, but his lips pull up and his eyes are soft as he looks over at you. "That I can promise you." He'll buy you the very best ring he could find.

"My point is that the emotional weight of a gift means more than the price tag." It's something you've talked about just a little, the fact that you're both realistically broke when you're not living on the ship. "As long as it's something that made you think of me, I don't care what it costs."

“Hell, everything makes me think of you.” Zach grins and winks at you. “Hurry up and I’ll show you what I’m thinking right now.”

“Naughty.” The scandalized tone in your voice is just for show, and you pick up the pace considerably, practically racing him back down the hall to your new suite.

******

Both of you show up to work with incredibly smug smirks and a small skip to your steps. Zach rushes into the kitchen, technically late by thirty-five seconds but he couldn’t resist that one last kiss with you.

"Oh my god." Zach's sous chef and saucier are smirking right by the doorway when he walks into the kitchen. Both holding up their watches. "For the first time ever — Chef is only on time instead of early."

He couldn’t look stern even if he tried. Just too buoyed by happiness with you and the fact that you are just as giddy as he is. One day maybe the feeling will settle, but for now it’s butterflies and feeling lighter than a cloud. “Yeah, yeah.” He huffs, waving them off. “I know you have work. I might be on time but everything’s already outlined.”

"Oh, we were early today." His sous chef flashes him a grin. "We only stopped to wonder if you were actually going to be late."

“We were moving cabins.” He defends half-heartedly. He still can’t shake the grin on his face, so he knows they know that excuse is complete bullshit. “Get back to work.” He huffs, shooing them away.

“Any changes tonight? Last minute specials?” Zach’s team asks gently. They aren’t stupid. They know he’s been catering his specials to what the boss’s new girlfriend likes best. And if it weren’t so damn sweet, they might be annoyed about it.

He grins and shakes his head. “Nothing tonight, except I want to add a cherry cognac sauce to the chocolate cake.” He admits. “I appreciate you working with me on the unusual menu changes. You all have adapted admirably.”

“Keeps things interesting, chef.” His sous chef tells him, with a knowing grin. “But at this point we’re gonna be offended if we don’t get to cook your wedding dinner since we know what she loves already.”

"I couldn't imagine any other staff I would trust." Zach admits. Being in the trenches of the kitchen with this group had taught him how fucking talented most of the cooks on a ship where. Not only did they turn out the 'regular' foods served in the buffet for breakfast and lunch, but they also executed the finer dinning menu with the same ease. "Seriously."

“You heard the man!” The call goes out around the kitchen even as though few members of the staff closest to Zach are exchanging knowing smiles. He’s a good guy and an even better boss, and they would all walk through fire for him. Adjusting menus is the least of it. “Let’s get to work!”

The kitchen is a flury of activity from the moment they say 'go' and Zach just chuckles as he watches all the crew that he has assembled rush back to their stations. "Let's put a meal on the table they will never forget." He hums.

******

It goes from rare that you and Zach spend a night apart to downright impossible for the first several weeks of living together, but your old roommate River is having a little birthday party for her thirtieth and you can’t deny the request to join her that night. She’s forgoing a big party and just having a few of the girls over after hours, with wine and treats and gossip for all.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Zach promises for the eighth time, leaning in and kissing the concerned frown off your lips. “Shane and the guys invited me out for a drink, so you go have fun. I won’t be pining away for you in misery.” He grins. “But I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” The bag with River’s gift in it dangled from the same hand that your purse does and you have the other hand on his cheek. “Have fun, baby. I love you.”

“You too.” You look amazing, but you always do. Zach watches as you turn and stride towards the door. “I love you.”

Down a few hallways and in the deck below where you and Zach share a suite, River has turned your old shared room into a boho chic crash pad with beaded curtains and scarves over her lamps, and the smell of patchouli in the air. It’s her happy place and you love that she is able to fully settle in and enjoy a comfortable place to herself until the quartermaster gives her a new roommate.

The music is on, but respectfully low to not disturb the cabins around hers if they are sleeping. The sound really coming out when she opens the door and grins. “Honestly didn’t know if you could tear yourself away.” She teases, lunging forward to wrap you in a tight hug.

“I didn’t either,” you joke, though it’s not wholly a joke. You squeeze her back and let her pull you inside easily. “Happy Birthday, honey.”

“Well, come in.” She grins as she pulls you inside. “Everyone else is on their way.”

“How many people are we going to cram into this place?” It’s nice to be back in a sort of nostalgic way. You had liked living with River and been fast friends with the philosophically-inclined bartender.

“Only four others.” She promises. “Intimate. Wine and gossip.”

“And snacks.” Along with River’s present, you have a tray of treats Zach made for you to bring for the party.

“Your soulmate is the best.” She gushes, eyes lighting up in delight. Zach had picked your brain for her favorites and managed to put together a finger food tray that was completely River. Right down to the mini cucumber sandwiches.

“He says happy birthday, too,” you laugh as she pulls you inside with gleeful giggles.

“What’s he doing tonight?” She asks, taking the tray and setting it down on the desk where she already has four bottles of wine and six glasses ready to go. “Pining for you?”

“Maybe.” You huff, though you can feel the warmth in your cheeks at the suggestion. “He’s having beers with the band. Boy gossip time.”

“Good.” She knows that you will be thinking about Zach, you have this almost dreamy expression on your face now. “Then I won’t feel guilty about pumping you for details.”

That only makes you laugh, because you had a feeling she would go that route, but she’s still your friend to tease. “Oh, so I’m the subject of tonight’s gossip?”

“Of course.” She huffs, rolling her eyes dramatically as if it was never in question. “No one else has anything as interesting going on in their lives.”

“Oh my god, you are not starting without me!” Madi — one of the hostesses from the ship’s high end restaurants and the most fashionable person you’ve ever met — comes in right behind you with a look of conspiratorial glee on her face. “I need to know everything.”

Quickly after her, the three other women who were invited arrive, all squealing about seeing you and soon all of you are lounging around the room with wine glasses in your hands. All of them waiting for the gossip to begin.

“Okay, okay.” You can pretend all you like, but getting to talk to some new people about Zach is actually nice. The guys in the band have heard every story already. Or they were there when it happened. “What do you vultures want to know?”

Tara grins, picking up a cucumber sandwich and examining it. “How much food play is involved in your bedroom life?” She asks, cackling at the joke. She’s a casino host from Zimbabwe and has a wickedly sharp sense of humor. Guests and crew alike adore her.

“Surprisingly very little.” You shouldn’t be stressed that that is the first question, but it still makes you grin. Zach doesn’t like food play because he still has hang ups about wasting food, but you use it in other ways. “Food is usually flirting with him. Seduction. Sometimes I walk into the club at night and his menu special is something I know he meant just for me.”

“That is so damn romantic.” Madi huffs. “I want a man who makes me special meals.” She takes a sip of her wine. “I bet he does that a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Almost every day,” you admit, hiding your grin behind your wine glass. “I swear I’m going to need a gym membership when we get back to New York. His food is so fucking good.”

"It looks like you are getting plenty of workouts." Jasmine snickers, lifting a brow at you. "You haven't gained a pound so you are sweating it off somewhere."

Zach doesn’t mind if you gossip a bit, you had made sure to ask how much he was comfortable with and he said it was fine. The broad strokes will surely be shared tonight, even while you keep the finer details for yourself. So you have no qualms admitting how active you actually have been. “I’m putting my birth control through the wringer.”

All of the girls erupt into giggles, happy about how proud of that fact you look and the playful banter starts to ping pong back and forth between them. All of them teasing you about positions and techniques to keep your soulmate making you fabulous meals for months to come.

“I know you guys didn’t invite me just to hear about how incredible my soulmate is,” you tease. Pouring your third glass of wine has you just as giggly as the rest of them. “Did you?”

A form chorus of ‘yes! is only counter by one ‘of course not! and that was only River who disagrees. Everyone starts laughing again and Tara hums. “We are all so happy for you babe. You light up at the mere mention of him.”

"He's..." The dreamy sign you let out is undeniable. Not that you ever would deny him. "He's the love of my life. I really don't know how I got so lucky."

"Did you know?" Jasmine asks quietly. "Before you actually knew? Were you like, drawn to him?"

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," you admit, with a shrug of your shoulders that convinces no one at all. "I was definitely drawn to him, but I had no idea why. It was just..." The feeling had been there. It had blossomed in you and taken hold and grown so fast you couldn't keep it up. "I just thought it was the most intense crush I'd ever had. Like when you're a tween and have that very first puppy love experience? But as an adult it was so much more intense. I thought that's what it was...but it was the bond."

"Did Zach feel the same way?" Tara asks. "I can only assume he thought you were gorgeous, but every man on the crew thinks you're beautiful."

"Oh come on, don't be ridiculous." It's a lovely compliment, but it's definitely an exaggeration. "If you were to ask him, he would tell you that it was love at first sight for him. But he didn't think I'd ever like him, too. Which is patently ridiculous. Obviously."

"Obviously." River giggles. "Don't kill me, but Zach is hot."

“Why would I kill your for that?” You giggle over a sip of wine. “You’re right and you should say it.”

"Are you not jealous?" Tara asks, impressed by the idea that you wouldn't be. "I mean, I guess you wouldn't be, when he's so obviously devoted to you."

“I’m not going to be jealous that people have eyes. That’s silly.” Besides which, you’ve dealt with jealousy. You’ve seen it firsthand. It’s an ugly emotion that you never intend to face if you can ever help it. “As long as I’m the one he comes home to at night, I don’t care who else notices him. I know I’m damn lucky.”

"You are truly lucky." Madi sighs. "So lucky."

“Maybe you’ll find out Olaf is your soulmate,” you tease, grinning and making the other girls giggle. Madi had been long distance dating a Swiss hotel heir that she met while on vacation with her family in London. “You should get up the gumption to ask him if he has that tattoo of yours.”

"I would rather see it." She groans, rolling her eyes. "I need to see him. Tell the captain to sail around the continent. I have a man to jump."

"Get. It. Girl!" Jasmine crows, clapping and practically cheering.

Everyone laughs and you nearly spill your wine in the jostle of enthusiastic women.

It's a breath of fresh air to feel this happy and this free. This happy about your life. It might be the first time ever that you really are happy with exactly how things are, and that itself is a miracle.

******

Coming back to the room he shares with you, Zach is pleasantly buzzed. He had shared quite a few beers with Shane and the other guys, as well as shooting the shit and catching up. Trading jokes and stories. It’s different working back of the house in a kitchen and being up on stage in front of the same crowd of people. Both have interesting outlooks and everyone had laughed over the similarities and differences.

The click of the door startles you, mostly for reasons you can't quite articulate, but you jump out of your seat when Zach comes into the room. Cheeks stained with tears that you're still crying, your phone is clutched in one hand but you immediately reach for him with the other.

“What’s wrong?” Zach is immediately grabbing you, rushing over to your side and he sees that you seem physically alright. But your tears are aching, painful. He can feel how you are heartbroken. “What is it?” He demands, crushing you to him and instantly sobering.

"My, um—" You have to gasp between the tears, but you had hung up the phone with your mother just seconds before Zach came home and you haven't had time to process it all yet. "My Gram died." It seems so surreal, that sentence, and the very fact that you have to say it. She had seemed so well the last time you saw her. So capable and healthy. You had talked to her barely a week ago and she was perfectly fine. "It was—she had a stroke. This morning."

“Oh baby.” Zach has no family left to speak of, but he knows the heartbreak of loss. He closes his eyes as he holds you close. “I am so sorry.”

"They're organizing the funeral." Your voice wobbles, as uncertain as you feel, and you hold onto him tightly. "I—I gotta go home."

“Yes you do.” Zach squeezes you tight. “Do you want me to come with you?”

"Can you be away from the club?" Honestly you hadn't even processed the idea that Zach would offer to come with you, let alone that he actually could. "The, uh...the cruise—" You sniff back tears as best you can, trying to give yourself a clear head. "It's almost over. I have to talk to...I don't even know who. Someone. About going home."

“I’ll make sure I can.” Because of the pilot program on the cruise ship, they are docking and spending a week in port for meetings to make sure that there aren’t any changes that need to be made. It’s unusual, but it’s actually a good thing in this case. “My crew can handle the kitchen, even if it’s not new recipes.”

"Are you sure?" His willingness to just drop everything to be there for you is astonishing, and you couldn't be more grateful.

“Unless….you don’t want me to go?” He asks, unsure of why you’re so resistant to the idea of him supporting you during your loss. “I don’t have to if you’d rather go alone.”

"No, no — I want you to." Your hands tighten a little on his arms, silently begging him not to pull back. "I'm just...I'm still processing. And I guess I didn't expect you to offer it so easily."

“Of course I would.” He firms up his hold on you and leans into the embrace. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

"Thank you." You lean your forehead on his chest and breathe an extremely shaky breath, trying to keep hold of yourself so you don't break down crying again. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He promises softly, his hand running up and down your back to soothe you. "Come on, let's lay down and you can cry it out." He knows it's too late for anything to be done tonight, but in the morning will be soon enough.

******

The morning, it turns out, is a whirlwind. The crew is given notice that the docking in port will be for two weeks instead of one due to a necessary repair on the ship, so when you go into the office to ask for a few extra days of bereavement leave, you’re told to take whatever you need. Shane promises to keep the band rolling in your absence and Zach turns his kitchen over to his sous chef for the time being. Things at work will be perfectly fine while the two of you are on dry land. You keep telling yourself that over and over while you pack.

Zach doesn't have many formal clothes, so he frets over that while he packs the nicest ones he has. "I— I will have to get a suit." He tells you after a moment. " I don't have one, and I'm assuming you want me at the funeral?"

You nod, still feeling fuzzy and vague, like your whole reality is off center. “I’m sorry honey, I mean—yes. We can get you one. The funeral isn’t for a few days, thankfully.”

"Don't be sorry." He sets the shirt down he had been folding carefully and moves over to where you are stuffing a large black suitcase full. Sliding his arms around you and hugging your back in support. "I'm sorry that I have to get one, that it will take time away from family."

“It’s okay,” you promise him quietly, drowning in the feeling of actual comfort and security inherent in being held in his arms. You’re so fucking grateful for Zach all of the time, but especially now. “I have a feeling that an excuse to get out of the house will be helpful now and then.”

"Whatever you need." He assures you. "I know it's not the best way to meet the family, but I'm here for you. If you need time away, you just let me know."

“I thought I could show you around Tulsa a little.” The good parts, anyway. He’ll see enough of the shitty parts while he’s with you. “When we decided we needed to get out, I mean.”

“That sounds good.” Zach nods. “What time is our flight?” You had made the arrangements, since you knew what to do. He had offered, and he had insisted on paying for his travel since you wouldn’t let him pay for both of you.

“Seven tonight. It’s going to be a long-ass flight home. Two layovers and every flight is at least a few hours long.” That draws another long, low sigh out of you and you lean back against his chest. “You’re amazing for doing this with me, baby. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Of course.” He makes it sound simple and for him, it is. “Don’t forget to pack your book.” He murmurs. “And your sleep mask. Maybe you can get a few hours of sleep on the flights.” You didn’t sleep last night, but that’s almost expected.

“You’ll have to teach me the military trick for sleeping anywhere.” Zach’s ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat is fairly spectacular, and you grab your sleep mask from the bedside table as he recommends. It can go in your carryon with the book you’ve been reading. And a spare, for good measure.

He grins at you and drops a kiss on your forehead. "Exhaustion beyond compare." He explains. "There's no other way to describe it."

“I have a feeling I might get there this week.” Slowly, methodically, the two of you work through your packing. Your little hometown right outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma isn’t much to talk about but you tell him little bits here and there. It doesn’t feel real to be going back like this. It doesn’t feel right. But it is what it is and cannot be anymore.

"It'll be alright." He knows you are bouncing back and forth between grief and nervousness, but he lets you talk it out how you need to. "If you need me to do anything at all, you just let me know."

“The fact that you’re coming with me means more than you know.”

"Baby, you are my soulmate." He reminds you. "We are a team, and I know that if it was me, you would be right beside me." He appreciates that and he takes your hand when you turn to him. "I want you to know you can lean on me anytime. I'm here for you."

“If it was you, I wouldn’t hesitate.” And that, you suppose, is his point. So you nod your head and to your head back, pressing a short kiss to his lips. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “You’re my world.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

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

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 3.09

While ducking behind a crate of wood, you use the scope on your rifle. You keep watch for any signs of an attack while waiting on your brothers, Daryl and Hershel, returning to the prison. Somehow Andrea had managed to arrange a sit-down between the governor and Rick, something you were highly against.

“Any sign of my brother yet?”

Hearing Merle’s voice, you roll your eyes and say, “No, not yet.”

“Hmm.” He leans against the fence, making himself an easy target. “Listen, girly, what happened before—kidnapping you and all—it was strictly business.”

“What’s done is done.”

“You’re a lot more snapper than Rick; anybody ever tell you that? I bet Shane did. Yeah, I remember that judgmental deputy well. I never would have pictured you two together. Oh well, at least we are all one big happy family now, right?”

You glance up at him, and it annoys you how amused he is. You got the impression that Merle thrived on chaos and was just trying to get under your skin. “You know, if my brother hadn’t gone back looking for you in Atlanta, I would never have found him again. I guess I’m lucky T-dog dropped the keys.”

“You really are something else.” Merle snorts out a laugh. “I noticed you’re the only one who didn’t protest about me staying. I guess that means all is forgiven.”

“No, I still think you’re an asshole, but Daryl wouldn’t leave you behind.” You go back to looking through the scope for any movements, “but for this to work, we all need to be singing from the same hymn sheet.”

“I’m on whatever side my baby brother is, and fortunately for you, it’s Rick’s side. You didn’t seem surprised when we swooped in and saved your brother's ass from walkers.”

“I knew Daryl would come back because he’s one of us.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

A few beats of silence pass before you speak again. Merle had already gotten into a few altercations with Glenn. “You do anything that hurts—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “If I hurt your brother, son, or precious little friends, you’ll point that rifle right at me.”

“You do anything to hurt Daryl, and I’ll pull the trigger.”

“Well, ain’t I glad to know my brother has a guard dog?”

“Shh!” Seeing a vehicle approaching, you point your gun in its direction, ready to fire if it’s an enemy, but thankfully, it’s your people returning. “They’re back.”

—

Something was going on between Rick, Daryl, and Hershel; they were keeping a secret from the rest of you. Your issue wasn’t with being kept out of the loop per se, but you didn’t like the atmosphere it was causing. Both Daryl and Rick were avoiding you, and Hershel constantly looks like he’s about to start crying.

Rick told you the governor was gearing up for war, but you knew he was holding back.

“You want to go for a nap?” You kiss Jace’s cheek multiple times before placing him in the travel cot. Michonne, Carl, and Rick got on their last run. “Sleep tight, baby.”

Having a cot meant you got to sleep better during the night; instead of worrying, he’d somehow crawl out of the cell. They had also brought back a few toys and clothes for him and Judith to share. Knowing he had something other kids had before the world went to shit made you feel better, more hopeful that one day he would have a better chance.

You go to the cellblock where all the supplies are kept and start separating ammunition into different piles. Glenn has come up with the idea of hiding a few boxes of bullets outside, so if anyone got pinned down, they wouldn’t run low. You lift your head and smile when Daryl walks into the room and says, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

It gnaws on you that Daryl avoids making eye contact with him. “Did you do it?”

He looks almost alarmed by the question, “W-what?”

“Michonne’s idea? Putting down barbed wire will slow down any vehicle. I’ve got a few ideas I want to pick her brain about later.”

Daryl gulps it down nervously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah… no.” He finally lifts his head to look up at you, and he seems to be torn. “I… fuck, I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Is this about the governor?"

Sighing, he sits down beside you and holds his head with his hand. “The governor offered to make a deal with Rick; we hand over Michonne, and he’ll leave us alone.”

“But my brother wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking over Daryl’s shoulder at the doorway at the same time Rick walks in. “Tell him you wouldn’t do that.”

“Y/n.”

Your stomach drops upon seeing the look on your brother's face; he had actually considered it. “Tell him, Rick, tell me you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t hand a woman over to that man!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“There is no difference between Merle snatching me and Glenn off the street and handing us over to the governor than there is you doing it. Is this what the three of you have been whispering about? Trying to figure out the best way to do it without the rest of us noticing? That man terrorized me and Glenn.”

You glare at your brother as he comes and sits down on the opposite side of you. “I’m not going to do it... I did consider it. But we can't, and I can’t. It’s not who we are.”

You shake your head in disgust. Rick knew exactly what the governor had done to you, and whatever he had planned for Michonne would be a thousand times worse. Tears of anger begin to form.

“Don’t, don’t do that,” Rick sighs. “I’m going to tell Michonne the truth. About the deal, about... how I thought about it.”

“How could you even think about it?” The difference between people like us and people like them is that we protect our own.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do. If I had to choose between saving a person I barely know and my family, I’d always choose my family.”

“Siblings, huh? I can’t live with them; I can’t live without them. But at the end of the day, you’d do anything for them.”

Daryl shakes his head when his brother sits at the table with a smug look on his face. “Shut up, Merle,” you say. “I’m going to check on Judith.”

—

Looking around the prison yard, panic starts to set in. You notice your brother and run to him. “Rick, Rick!”

Seeing you panicked, he runs over and meets you halfway. “What’s going on?”

“Somethings wrong; I can’t find Michonne or Daryl.”

“I know,” he says, looking down at the ground. “Merle went through with it; he took Michonne, and Daryl’s gone after him to bring her back.”

“He’s gone out there alone.”

He nods.

You rub at your face and say, “Damn it. If the governor finds them, he will kill all three of them.”

“Daryl is a survivor. He and Michonne will be coming back through those gates in no time.”

Tears start to build up. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely, both of them have better chances of surviving out there than either of us.” Rick was right; they would be fine. “I just want to say, before... I wasn’t thinking clearly. I would never have turned her over. I was just grasping at any chance I could to try and save the lives of my people, but you’re right, Michonne is one of us now.”

“I shouldn’t be so quick to judge when it’s not me in the position to make that choice. Hell, I’ve done a lot of questionable things.”

Rick hugs you tightly, and you squeal a little when you feel the pressure against the flesh that had been grazed by the bullet. “From now on, there is only one secret we keep: that night on the farm, and that’s it.”

“Agreed.”

When you start to walk back towards the prison, a hint of a smirk appears on Rick’s face. He puts his arm around your shoulder and says, “I need to ask you something, and I need a completely honest answer.”

“Okay?”

“For a while there, I was hearing things and seeing things that weren’t there. So I need you to tell me, did I really see you kissing Daryl with a dead possum at your feet, or did I imagine that?”

“Let’s go find the others.”

—

Your brother stands in front of the remaining members of your group in the courtyard while you sit around a picnic table. He looks stressed, scared of how the others will react. Admittedly, you were horrified when Daryl told you, but you don’t believe him; Rick or Hershel would have actually gone through with it.

“When I met with the governor, he offered me a deal. He said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne.” Rick’s jaw wobbles slightly as he talks; he was struggling to hold it together. “And I was going to do that... to keep us safe. I changed my mind. But now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal, and Daryl went to stop him, but I don’t know if it’s too late. I was wrong not to tell you. And I’m sorry. What I said last year—that first night after the farm—it can’t be like that. It can’t. What we do, what we’re willing to do, who we are—it’s not my call. It can’t be. I couldn’t sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we are the greater good. We’re the reason we’re still here—not me, all of us. How we live, how we die—it ain’t up to me. I ain’t your governor. We chose to go. We chose to stay. We stick together.”

Nobody knows what to say.

“We vote. We can stay or fight, or we pack up stuff and leave.”

“I’m proud of you, Rick.”

[mrros-e]

ROTE: my incoherent rambles

whenever Burpy is ghouled/gooned/sick in the show, Eli is SO. DISTRAUGHT. or at least happy when Burpy is freed. Like, pets their head, says "hi", smiles to them, quipps a joke; something to show Burp that their human is very happy they're back.

I watched the will shane gets cured scene again, and I forgot that Burpy is also ghouled there; the shot that saved his dad also freed Burpy. And does Eli retrieve Burpy, like he usually does?

No. He immediately thinks the worst, walking up to his dad on the ground. Burpy doesn't even cross his mind. And Burpy's chill with it, hopping to will shane just like Eli did. After all, Burpy and Eli only really bonded after Will's disappearance; he obviously knows how much the man means to his son.

Its a great way to subtly hit the viewer with how big and tragic it all is. Imagine watching lightwell and ROTE back to back? Eli nearly sacrifices himself for Burpy a million times, and would again and again and again. But then his dad returns, and the fabric of time (and our understanding of the lore) changes dramatically.

So much so that, in the chaos, Eli touch-Burpy-and-I-will-kill-you Shane has bigger fish to fry that Burpy being back. Its startling to watch. It's something so small, but so impactful. It's even made more clear when Jun - who we learn in slug-fu showdown demands more time from his slugs to trust them - warmly greets Joo-Joo again, and thats the only time we ever really see that from him. and even will says "hello, old friend." and after that? Burpy isn't even ANIMATED, OR ON SCREEN for the last 5 minutes. Like Burpy isn't a main feature of the battle. thats BIZZARE. until...the promise to save his dad. Burpy retook Eli's shoulder, right next to doc.

When else do we see Eli not go above and beyond for his slugs? When others show more care for their team than he does? Never, actually.

It was just there, when he realized he still had a dad, and needed to speak to him first. He's in full "omg dad's here and alive" mode. Of course he is; but a lesser show would have had him reunite with burpy. The end of ROTE is a very harrowing slugterra watch, and its little details like this that made it so poignant. Eli's slugs took the backseat to his dad, on screen and as a part of the narrative itself, till Eli needed them again when he lost his dad for deeply sorrowful second time.

If you ever rewatch this show, keep a very close eye on burpy. What they're doing, how they react to events. Knowing the little guys been around for thousands of years and probably knows all the shane secrets makes all the little emotions fascinating. one of the best things I noticed was when Will saved eli on the ground with burpy; Burpy was growling at blakk while being shot. We havent seen him growl like that since....eli first met Dr Blakk in episode 1 of the entire show. I now see that shot as Burpy's true revenge, for that moment 5 years ago; Will got to shoot Burpy and land a hit with them on the monster who sent him to the deep caverns. Justice at last, for both of them...till, you know.

I'll leave off with one more note: in the show, especially pre-movies, Eli looks to burpy for advice constantly. It's never pointed out, but Eli always checks in: "do i tell them this?" "Is this the right move", etc. When the five of them promise, he didn't have to check. Either he didn't need a second opinion - he knew what his mission was - and/or he already assumed burpy was in agreement. I don't know if eli "grows up" during the slugterra timeline - its only a year - but he does gain more confidence in himself. And thats not him getting over past trauma or not feeling guilty over things anymore - thats on him becoming more accustomed to looking ahead instead of behind him. Like what jun said to pull him back.

If you catch me on ao3, I'm fascinated with the shows absolute hatred toward backstories. I think that's convenient for the writers, duh, but I also interperet it as a mirroring of the shane gang's attitude towards their pasts. They need to go forward, yes, but they also desperately want to move on, to make the past not matter anymore. If they were to make any actual good slugterra content again, I would like them to keep making ROTE-like stories; not even necessarily giving us complete backstories (we didn't even get that with Blakk), but having our characters contend with past events. his dad, of course, but also: Twist. dana. tom por. the goon. eli's mom. any and all lore about pronto, kord, and trixie. Any of these things returning would fit well in any plot they come up with, and continue making slugterra's fight with good and evil more and more personal to the characters. that's what slugterra exceeds at - having a plot's lore tie juuuuuuust slightly to broader slugterra history/culture and making these characters learn and face it together. If you want to make a better future, the past must be resolved.

and I think eli finally realized that at the end of ROTE, even if he spends the rest of the running show letting other missions distract him from that painful reality.

also we can be saved ch 2 is in production and i have monday off, and legend says that if you comment on my other stories my depression will lesson and i can actually produce content again thanks yall i love this fandom :)