#shane is ALREADY a kind person

[cloudcountry]

gotta be honest people who say that shane kissers have a fixer complex is also a red flag.

[junicult]

!! showering w the bachelors for the first time

contains ; mostly fluff. fem!farmer. some suggestive parts. making out. newly established relationships. nsfw in sebastian’s, implied in shane’s & alex’s. afab!farmer. brief mention of fingering. not proofread, will later.

note ; i intended for this to be entirely sfw i swear

harvey.

- the honeymoon phase.

- where he doesn’t even live with you, yet he’s at your house nearly every night, or sometimes vise versa.

- when he uses your stove (with permission) to make you both dinner to share after you’ve finished work.

- where you’re still so in love all you wanna do is gaze into each others eyes and kiss until you can’t breathe.

- that’s exactly what kind of phase you’re in.

- and it’s been a long time since he’s been in that phase.

- you sorta have a whole routine atp.

- whenever he comes over, you make it a plan to wrap up work quickly & spend the evening with him,

- which is why you felt so guilty when you lost track of time, backpack full of rocks and geodes you couldn’t wait for clint to break open the next morning.

- when you glanced down at your watch, you nearly jumped ten feet in the air like a cartoon lmfao

- and you’ll definitely regret running up the ladder one level before you reached another button on the elevator—but right now, you weren’t even focused on that.

- by the time you made it back to your house, a mere two hours after you told harvey you’d be back, it was pitch-black outside.

- thankfully, he didn’t leave. instead, he stood scrubbing the dishes clean, before whipping around at the sudden swing of your front door.

- “harvey! i’m so sorry, i lost track of ti—“

- “oh thank yoba you’re okay,” he sighs, (u already know he wanted to call someone to check up on u but he didn’t want to seem controlling😭😭)

- and he didn’t waste a second to meet you at the door, scanning you just to see if you were injured.

- “i’m fine, i’m fine, just got way too distracted. did you make dinner? did you have to eat alone?? oh, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to—“

- ur word vomit is making him fall in love with you even more. two peas in a pod🫶🫶

- then it’s just back and forth of you constantly questioning and reassuring each other for a few moments.

- “but you made such a nice meal for me, and i kept you waiting, i just—i’m so sorry—“

- “sweetheart, it’s okay, i’m not mad,” he almost chuckles, holding you close.

- as soon as he established you’re not hurt or injured, he’s no longer stressed.

- he understands what it’s like getting carried away at work, so who is he to ever be mad at you for that?

- after you ate and assured him you were fine, that’s when you mentioned it.

- “i’m pretty dirty from the mines, i was gonna shower. make up for lost time with me?”

- his mind doesn’t inherently go to sexual things.

- honestly, he was just excited you wanted to.

- he also doesn’t give a fuck that he took a shower earlier. he just wants to spend time with you lol.

- although ik he’s all organized and has like a little routine where you both keep taking turns under the spray LMFAO

- like you get in first, rinse yourself off, then switch with him while you soap yourself up, switch & rinse, switch and apply shampoo, switch, etc, you get it.

- it’s so fucking funny LMAO.

- but the entire time you’re making casual conversation, some little comments about how much you missed each other, things like that.

- he loves how you look in the shower. not even bc ur naked, it’s just a vulnerable way to see the person you love, and there’s nothing sexual in the way he’s looking at you.

- even when you tug on his neck to pull him down for a kiss, he’s just swooning over your affections.

- unless the implication, or intention of sex came before the shower���he’s probably not approaching anything with that.

- it’s a completely different story if you’ve had a ton of tension all day,

- constantly making passing remarks that make his palms sweat, but unable to go any further because of your busy day,

- and you leave him all hot and bothered until you come home in the evening, and ask him to join you in the shower.

- that’s when he forgets all about the little routine.

sam.

- ah, the start to ur most important routine.

- honestly, i feel like you were the one who started it all.

- the whole, “every time you shower, we shower together” thing.

- at least, that’s what it becomes once you move in together. but before that, anytime he was over & you needed to shower, he’d totally join in.

- it’s not even sexual. there’s only like a 30% chance you’ll end up having sex, or even just do foreplay whenever you shower together.

- he’s just so clingy, and he craves the closeness after he realized how much he enjoyed you being there the first time.

- you both were quietly laying together, watching the tv wordlessly, just enjoying each others company after you two decided he should spend the night.

- which then prompted in him asking, “do you think i could use the shower? i smell bad.” he frowns after taking a whiff of his arm.

- you giggle. “i think you smell good, but go ahead. i don’t have your soap, though.”

- like he could care lmfao.

- “thanks!” he just grins, hopping on his feet and giving you a little kiss on the forehead before he skips off.

- you give it like 5 minutes before you decide u miss him too much (attachment issues😞)

- “sam…y’think you got room for two in there?” you knock before creeping the door open.

- he peeks his shampoo’d head from behind the shower curtain. “you wanna come in?”

- “is that okay?”

- u might’ve just asked him to marry you.

- his whole face lights up, grinning wide and opening the curtain wider as he steps to the side. “the more the merrier!”

- he doesn’t even care ur naked. there’s nothing sexual running through his mind, he’s just excited you’re standing with him rn. now he doesn’t have to rush to go see you.

- he even steps to the side to give you the chance to soak your hair under the spray.

- it’s easily just a little awkward at first.

- you’ve had sex before, that’s not why it’s awkward,

- only because it’s the first time you two are seeing each other completely naked without any intention of sexual advancement. not that it would be such a burden if you did, but neither of you want to.

- while you drench your hair, he can’t help but smile lovingly at the sight of water droplets all over your skin.

- he could easily be thinking about how much fun it’d be to have sex right here, but he’s too focused on how this might actually be his favorite thing you’ve ever done together.

- like minutes of silence pass, nothing but the water running and he’ll just lean in and press a kiss on your temple or shoulder.

- it’s not bc he’s trying to hint at something,

- he just wanted to do it, and he doesn’t really overthink the things he wants to do.

- but the affection makes you smile, and by how pure it was, it doesn’t send any false messages.

- it really doesn’t last that long. probably about 15 minutes of you both washing off and short displays of affection.

- yet it clung to you both so well, that it just became the routine you never skipped out on.

shane.

- it definitely just happened naturally.

- ur relationship at first was strictly sexual.

- to the rest of the town, no one even knew you guys even spoke. which, to be fair, there wasn’t much talking between u two anyways💀💀

- but i wanna say that was only for a couple weeks.

- it was still super slow and progressive. your conversations went from short & passing, to getting to know each other a little more. but the sex was still there.

- it went from instead of him leaving right after you finished, you’d stay up and talk for a couple hours.

- to waking up together, to spending the day together, etc etc.

- now ur relationship was approaching friends w benefits category. except it was unspoken, but neither of you wanted to be friends at this point.

- despite all of this, you’ve still never showered together.

- until you spent the whole day working outside. you feel gross, sticky, and sweaty. he just so happened to stick around after you started working.

- ur checking in on your animals he just follows you lol.

- before u both knew it, the sun was coming down and he spent the whole day helping you.

- the thing was, neither of you wanted to mention it. you were both nervous even bringing it up would spark the implication of wanting him to leave.

- which was not the case.

- not to mention, he’s a huge help. when u passed him ur axe to chop down trees, you almost couldn’t look away 🤷‍♀️

- so after you’ve finished, sun starting to set and sweat dripping from your temples—he’s still standing with you.

- “i feel gross, i’m gonna shower.” you frown, plucking your clothes away from your sticky skin.

- ofc he’s thinking it.

- but he doesn’t have time to make a sly comment before you shoot one over your shoulder, “there’s room for two, y’know.”

- say no more, he’s following close behind you throwing off his shirt.

- “thought you said there was room for two, there’s hardly room for one.” he snorts, squeezing himself beside you in the cramped space.

- “oh c’mon, you’ve never had a problem with making it fit.”

- he’s gonna lose his mind.

- u don’t really waste any time LMFAO

- drenching your hair under the spray before you look over at him,

- and you both just lean in cus it’s unspoken, but obvious you guys aren’t in there just to shower.

- he’s quick to slotting his hands at the small of your back, while you wrap yours around his neck and press yourself against him.

- …not much showering gets done, i’ll just say that.

sebastian.

- i feel like sebastian spends more nights at your house then he does at his own at this point.

- he’s not the type to get super attached very easily, even getting to the step of sleeping together took a while.

- but after it happened, he found your little cottage so comfortable. he liked waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep in your arms at night.

- the only reason he goes home is to work.

- and the minute he finishes up, he heads back over.

- honestly, if he could pack up his computer and leave it at your house, then he’d never leave—which is probably why you made it clear he can’t do that.

- your relationship is already committed.

- i don’t really think he’d wanna sleep with you if hadn’t discussed a romantic relationship.

- anyways, i feel like bc of this, he’s already showered at your place lol.

- you were too busy to ask, and he knew you wouldn’t mind, so he just jumped in and took a quick shower.

- hours after you already started your chores for the day, he woke up & just sniffed his shirt and winced a little.

- he also did some laundry (for your sake).

- so then it kinda just became a, “hey, do you mind if i take a quick shower?” while you were preoccupied.

- sometimes you’d be the one to ask. like if you were lying together, on your bed in your house, you’d turn to him and say the same thing.

- it never rly occurred to either of u that you could knock out two birds with one stone🤷‍♀️

- one evening you were exhausted. you smelled horrible, you could already tell. you had spent nearly the entire day down in the mines, just covered in dirt and rubble, stinking like sweat yet he still kissed you when you came in.

- “i need to shower,” you groan, still accepting his kiss.

- ugh but he’s already spent the majority of the day without you, why are you going to deprive him of more?

- “i think you smell fine,” he tries his best to persuade, but you won’t budge.

- pressing against his chest, you giggle, “you know that’s not true. i’ll only be a few minutes, promise.”

- he’s honestly so clingy, literally tugging on your arm as you try to walk away and following behind you like a lost puppy.

- and suddenly, “i could use a shower too…” despite him using it earlier.

- you look at him for a second, narrowing your eyes, before you tease, “yeah, you could.”

- he’s much like sam, just less openly enthusiastic.

- when you tell him to get the water running, he’s only nodding, but it’s not hard to miss the way he’s turning to start the water so quick.

- and how he’s undressing like he has somewhere to be, despite presenting so nonchalant about it.

- for him, it’s just a better reason to be so close to you. he likes when you’re around.

- it really depends on how much he was missing you, but for the most part i don’t think it ever leads to anything sexual.

- sure, he stands back to let you rinse yourself off and his eyes wander, but that’s about as much that’ll happen if neither of you are in the mood.

- and even then, if you end up wanting to have sex, it hardly ever happens in the shower. most is just foreplay.

- which he is never opposed to.

- i’ve said it once, i’ll say it a million more times,

- he lovesss fingering you.

- and lowkey, if you’re intending on having sex and starting with foreplay in the shower…phew.

- gently pressing you against the shower wall, the water running all down his back but he doesn’t even care,

- and his lips are making out with yours, which are sloppy in response while his fingers press against that spot inside of you that has your neck craning and moans spilling…

- that’s what he wants when he’s been missing you and joins you in the shower.

alex.

- i actually think he’s similar to sam too.

- he’s a huge fan of showering together.

- for starters, he’s the kind of man who makes himself at home very quickly💀💀

- even when you guys weren’t even dating yet, still just in that getting to know each other and hanging out regularly phase.

- when you’d plan for him to come over once you finished up work and spend time w each other casually.

- the cocky side of him just took your hospitality as flirting.

- which, i mean, isn’t unbelievably far off. you do like him.

- but it was probably like his second time over at your house, and he just casually asked if he could take a shower.

- you might’ve raised an eyebrow, but you still said sure.

- so then it became a pretty normal thing. he never took longer then 10 minutes, so you could appreciate that.

- after you both started dating, and had seen each other naked, it became much more casual.

- the transition between not showering together, to showering together was so subtle.

- it just started with you showering, and he needed to pee so he’d just come in and, well, pee.

- then he’d be showering but you still needed to brush your teeth and do your skincare, so you hung out in the bathroom.

- and pretty soon it was so normal that when you asked if he wanted to join you one evening—you didn’t even think much of it.

- it wasn’t until you were midway through washing your body when you realized he was doing the same thing beside you.

- it was just like a, ‘oh, okay, this is normal now’ kind of realization.

- “can you pass me the shampoo?” like he was asking for the salt at the dinner table.

- it just felt natural, especially after he moved in.

- it became a thing you both do together.

- literally a part of your nightly routine. when you were ready to shower, you’d let him know and he’d start the water while you got undressed.

- so since it was your nightly routine, i feel like the longer you’re together, showering together and having sex doesn’t really pair up.

- you shower 9/10 times together. there’s no way you’d be able to keep up (he can tho lol)

- but that doesn’t mean it’s rare.

- he loves looking at you when you’re naked. no shame.

- there could be zero sexual energy between you two at the moment, and he’s still looking you up and down, admiring.

- he can’t help it! he doesn’t even have to be turned on for his body to react to yours.

- “are you hard right now?” you laugh almost like you’re making fun of him.

- and his response will always be, “well duh,” because you just have that affect on him.

elliott.

- another man that loves to shower with you.

- well…yes he likes to shower together, but he’s definitely a bigger fan of bathing together.

- i’ll get to that in a minute.

- your relationship progressed very steadily. it wasn’t until after a few dates when you actually slept together.

- once you had sex though, i feel like it opened you up into being much more comfortable around each other.

- spending time constantly, always inviting him over, allowing him to see you in more vulnerable ways like in your pj’s or all dirty.

- he approached the idea first, i feel like.

- you’ve been having a stressful week, working nearly every hour you were awake, and you had complained about it prior.

- so he just wanted to help you relax, setting up a nice bath with candles and bath salts and anything to help you relax.

- he’s so sweet about it too, not even intending on joining you until you clasped your hands together and asked him to.

- “join me, please. i’ve hardly seen you all week.”

- and he’s all ears.

- sitting in the opposite end, either sitting in peaceful silence or listening to you recap your day.

- i lowkey think he’d bathe you LMFAO

- like hear me out, he’s offering to wash your hair and he’s all delicate with it, giving you a whole head massage and dipping a cup of water to rinse it out.

- kissing your neck and shoulders, pampering you while you don’t even care to protest.

- and even if you did, he wouldn’t allow it. not when you’re all he wants to focus on right now.

- and despite him loving to bathe with you, i feel like his shower routine is so intensive and meticulous that it’s not often you shower together.

- he never minds your company, i promise you that.

- i just firmly believe he’s a morning showerer and you don’t really have the time for that in the morning.

- if you were to ask for him to join you, i don’t think he’d turn you down. he’d just stand away from the spray and tie his hair back so it doesn’t get wet LOL

- but he’s all for spending as much time as he can get with you.

[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.

[meldy-writes]

Stupid Games

Summary: Takes place during S2 You’re the eldest of the Greene sisters (about 10 years older than Maggie). You’re mean, overprotective of your family, and overall just kind of a mythic bitch. Daryl can’t seem to keep his eyes from wandering over you whenever you’re around. One day you run into each other in the woods while hunting down the same deer and Daryl finds himself being toyed with. Maybe you’re not as cold and forbidding as you let on, but then again, maybe you’re just luring him into playing a stupid little game with you.

A/N: This is an excerpt from a fic I want to post to AO3 but don’t have anything substantial enough to post a full chapter yet so I wanted to post this here and see if it was good enough to keep working on. Might post another part I have written as a companion piece if people like this enough.

The first time Daryl laid eyes on you, you were just a distant figure on the roof of the Greene family farmhouse as he rode in at the head of the convoy on his bike. You were sitting on the porch overhang, looking out over your father's land with the vigilance of a grizzled soldier on the front lines. He watched you stand up as they drove up your gravel path. You put out a cigarette you'd been smoking in an ashtray resting on an open window ledge before climbing into the house. He and the rest of the members of his group that had stayed behind at the highway the night previous had made it up to the path and met up with the people who were already working on something judging by the pile of rocks they were collecting in a wheelbarrow by the time you reemerged on the porch. You surveyed him and the others with a set and piercing stare, arms crossed defensively over your chest as if daring one of them to cause trouble and give you a reason to beat their ass. You were followed out of the house by an older man in his seventies and the rest of Daryl’s group. You took stock of the new arrivals, starting with him and working your way over everyone, scanning them like you could see everything there was to know about them on their skin and didn't like it. When you were done you fixed your gaze back onto Daryl as if you'd identified him as the biggest threat. He hated the feel of your suspicious stare, though he told himself it was typical of people to see him as nothing but trouble and to treat him like dirt so he should be used to it. The way you tilted your head from your elevated position on the raised porch—like you were looking down at an ant and trying to decide whether it was worth the energy to squash it—made him fidget.

“How is he?” Dale asked after Carl when Rick and Lori came out of the house looking like they’d just been through hell and hadn't slept a wink.

“He'll pull through,” Lori responded, relief clear in her voice, “Thanks to Hershel and his daughter, (y/n),” She said motioning towards you, “and their people, and–”

“and Shane,” Rick added, “We'd have lost Carl if not for him.”

Daryl watched your already cold eyes darken and a snarl twist across your face at the statement, failing to suppress an eye roll before you yanked your head away from the group and the conversation like it disgusted you, choosing instead to stare off towards a barn at a distant end of the property. He wondered what your problem was, but he wasn't wondering long. It was revealed soon after the group arrived that someone had gone with Shane when he went to retrieve medical supplies for Carl and that that person did not return with him. Someone you and your family cared for.

If it wasn't made clear by the way Lori recognized those living at the farm house as not just your father's people but yours as well that you were the oldest child, it would have become obvious by the way your sisters looked to you for comfort at Otis's funeral. The little blonde one bawled her eyes out and clung to you like a child clings to their mother while Maggie, the woman who'd rode up to them on a horse the other day, leaned down to your height to rest her head on your shoulder. You tucked the sniffling teenager under your arm protectively, rubbing at her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead and then turned to bump your head softly against Maggie’s in a comforting way. Your lips pursed like you were sucking on a lemon as you tried your best to stay strong and not start crying like your sisters, pinning Shane with a frigid and accusatory glare that he expertly ignored as he told the story of how he and Otis were ambushed by a group of walkers while retrieving the medical supplies for Carl and that Otis had valiantly stayed behind to cover his retreat, shooting into the herd with a pistol before ultimately being swallowed up by the swarm and getting torn to shreds. Daryl found it miraculous that Shane managed to recover the gun but not the man that had supposedly been firing it in his daring escape—and by miraculous he meant shady. You didn't seem to be buying Shane’s story, either.

After the service your father motioned toward you and told you to show the guests where to set up their camp, as he graciously agreed to let them stay until Carl recovered and they had located Sophia. You nodded dutifly with a muttered “Yessir,” motioning to Rick with your head, beckoning him to follow as you untangled yourself from your siblings and began marching off in a direction with purpose, not looking back to check if anyone was following you. If the group couldn't keep up with your quick gait that was just too damn bad. They did their best to match your pace, some, like Daryl, breaking off to fetch the vehicles and bring them over to where they were meant to stay. When you got to a spot under some particularly shady trees a good distance from your house you stopped, looking around as you waited for the group to congregate. When everyone was grouped up again you addressed them directly for the first time that morning. Your voice was down to business and detached as you pointed out where the boundaries of the camp would be and where the well they could use for water was. “One more thing,” You said with the same rural twang as your sisters, your tone changing to one of warning as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, jutting out your hip and resting your hand against it. Daryl followed the movement, your curves drawing his eyes in a way that made him itch and blush. “My daddy believes we should be good christians—help our fellow men and give ‘em the benefit of the doubt, but I don't share his blind faith. I don't know you people and I don't trust you. I can’t afford to, I have a baby sister to protect. Beth is sixteen, you understand? She's a child. If I catch any of your men lookin’ at her, talkin’ to her—sniffin’ around her in any way, I will rip their balls off like I'm takin’ a part off a Mr. Potato Head.” You made a popping sound with your lips that had Daryl's stare fixing on them instead of your hips, and gave a motion with your hand as if grabbing at something and yanking it down. “Clean off,” you reiterated, staring Glen down who swallowed thickly and tried to give you a friendly and disarming smile that did not change your attitude in the slightest. “Maggie can take care of herself but still, if someone upsets her, with God as my witness there will be hell to pay.”

There was a loud silence from the group after your blatant threats of bodily harm that was broken by Dale, ever the peacekeeper. “We understand where you're coming from, you have nothing to worry from us. We're good people, you'll see. Thank you for letting us stay on your beautiful property while Carl recovers and we look for Sophia.”

You scoffed, “You're only here because we shot your boy,” you reminded bluntly as you turned to leave for your house, “don't thank us.”

Daryl’s first impression of you: You were a bitch, but a bitch who loved her family. The only times he ever caught you cracking a smile or being anywhere close to kind during those first few days was when you were with them. You seemed to disagree with your dad on a lot of things, but it was clear you both respected and loved each other and that you had a bond that had been worked on and cultivated to be strong enough for you to argue and debate and still look at each other with love. After every tiff he’d catch you having in the windows of the front room, spitting and pinching the bridge of your nose and tossing your hands up while your dad calmly spoke back you would sigh, relax your gaze, and kiss his cheek or his forehead before stomping off with a storm cloud over your head. You’d grin wolfishly as you and Maggie laughed conspiratorially on the porch in the afternoon, teasing each other as you ate cherries together, trying to hit each other with the pits you spat out. Your whole face would soften when you looked at Beth, practically glowing with unconditional adoration as you played on the guitar Dale had originally found for Glen and accompanied the little blonde girl as she sang her heart out. Your voice was low, bluesy, raw, and filled with vibrato. There was an untrained authenticity to it that was almost hypnotic. It paired well with your sister who sang like a songbird, pretty and light as if she’d been taught by actual birds. You were happy to let her take the center stage, supporting her through harmony while your fingers strummed frets with a clumsy sort of charm, like you were taught to play at one point but never practiced, and were now making all sorts of mistakes that were going to become bad habits without a proper teacher. It was later revealed that Otis had taught you the basics a few years back and you’d only bothered to pick it back up now that he was gone and Beth needed someone new to perform with. You softened for Patricia, as well, helping her in the kitchen and going out of your way to assist her with her chores on the farm despite having plenty of your own responsibilities to fulfill.

Daryl’s group, however, you continued to treat like shit on your shoe. You made no effort to hide that you wanted them off your property as soon as possible, only showing a hint of compassion when it came to Lori and Carol, the mothers of the group who were distraught over the perils of their children. They were the ones you supplied the group’s meals to, giving them bushels of produce and bottles of milk and sending your sisters over to hand them baskets of eggs, even going so far as to offer Carl some of your late step-brother’s hand-me-downs to wear, but you still had a cold sneer on your face when you handed things over and you didn’t speak to them unless it was to ask how Carl was recovering or if they were making any progress finding Sophia. You were only asking to try and gauge how much longer you’d have to wait before kicking them out, and you grew more and more agitated the more the group settled in. Every time Rick or Dale or anyone tried to appeal to you or your dad about staying longer or staying permanently you’d bristle like a cat being pet the wrong way. You made a point to avoid them most of the time, which was just fine with Daryl because every interaction he did have with you pissed him off, and only fueled his own frustration when it became harder and harder to ignore you or look away.

For instance, the first one on one conversation he ever had with you was out in the woods while he was looking for Sophia. He was about to give up the search for the day and head back when he picked up the trail of a deer. He stalked it through the woods, thinking it’d be better to provide the farm with some venison than to return empty handed again. When he finally found it, he took aim and shot it at an angle that had it sprinting off with a limp in the direction of the farm. That’s when he heard a startled gasp and watched as you rushed out of the nearby foliage with a rifle, taking aim at the retreating deer before realizing you couldn’t get a clear shot on it. You then turned to where he was, gun dropping in your arms as you pinned him with a furious look. “Congratulations, Numb-Nuts, it got away.”

“The hell are you doing out here?” Daryl snapped, face red at the way you were treating him like a dullard with no idea what he was doing.

You seemed flustered by the question, looking down and kicking at the dirt with your horse-riding boot. “Came out to hunt and figured I’d look around for the missing little girl while I was at it,” you said with a casual shrug, avoiding his eyes until you seemed to remember you were pissed at him at which point your head snapped up and that signature sneer of yours was back. “Saw the deer and was gonna take it out but somebody went and scared it off.”

“I shot it in the leg on purpose,” Daryl explained defensively, getting angry and up in your face, “see that trail it left? It’s carryin’ itself back to the farm, less effort this way.” He looked you up and down and scoffed, nodding towards your gun. “What's with the rifle, Annie Oakley? You shoot that thing, every walker in a five mile radius is gonna come here to tear you and that deer apart.”

You slung your weapon over your shoulder and crossed your arms defiantly, “It takes a buck down in one clean, quick shot. The animal feels little to no pain if you know what you’re doin’ so it’s not suffering with an arrow in its ass for half a mile. Plus, I woulda been outta here with the buck slung over my shoulder long before anything came over to check out the noise.” You were confident, clearly convinced you knew better and that your methods were best. Daryl couldn’t have that. He had a good decade’s worth of experience on you and he hadn't had his hand held the whole time he was taught to track the way you probably had. He licked his lips ready to knock you down a peg.

“Yeah, but you’d be so exhausted from caryin’ it the whole way that if a walker came up on you, you’d be too tired to fight it off. Maybe you’d be able to drop the deer and fumble for your rifle, but that’s as far as you’d get. It’d be on you in a second. Would a little thing like you be able to fight it off? You even got a weapon other than that big ol’ Elmer Fudd gun?” As he was talking he saw your expression shift. You tilted your head like something had just occurred to you and you were sizing him up.

Suddenly, you brought your right leg up, bent at the knee so you could lift a jack knife from your boot, and flicked the blade out so it pointed at his chest. That shut him up for a second. He really hadn’t expected the quickness with which you had it drawn on him. “Believe me,” you let out a bored, breathy sigh, a smirk on your face like you knew you had the upper hand, “I’ve got some experience dealing with ravenous things that want to pin me down and devour me, I can handle myself just fine.” …were you still talking about walkers? You were, right? The way you poked the tip of your knife against the skin of his chest peeking out from under his open collar and gently dragged it down until it caught on the button of his shirt had him feeling goosebumps on his flesh and hearing innuendo in your words. You took a step towards him, looking up at him through long lashes with your chest puffed—either in pride or in an attempt to get him to look at your breasts. Regardless of the reason, It was working. “What about you? You sure you can catch up to that deer before somethin’ else does? You said it yourself, it’s hurt and slowing down—a biter could take it down in a matter of moments. Then what, tough guy?” Daryl had nothing to say in defense of that. Partly because your slightly seductive shift in demeanor had his mouth going dry and partly because you had a point and he knew it. He remembered the last time he’d hunted a deer like this, it’d carried itself all the way back to the quarry camp before getting caught on the fishing line of the perimeter alarms they put up and then it’s stomach was ripped apart and it’s innards devoured by a walker that followed the sound of a wounded, frightened animal and jingling cans. You must have seen in his eyes that you’d caught him because your slight smile spread into a full-on Cheshire cat grin. You retracted your knife and returned it to your boot, turning and sauntering off in the direction the deer had run off in. “guess we’d better go find it, huh?”

Daryl stalled for a second, stunned by your behavior. One second you’re spitting venom at him and making him feel like he’s two feet tall, the next you’re purring like a kitten and being the biggest fucking tease he’d ever had to endure. He mentally smacked himself when he realized he’d been so focused on the sway of your hips as you walked away that he wasn’t following you like he should be. He began jogging to catch up with you, falling into step easily as you both picked up the deer’s trail again. “You even know how to track?” He couldn't help but keep trying to pick a fight with you—he didn’t even know why, but as much as bickering with you pissed him off, he also found it fun. You didn’t treat his meanness like something you had to quell or cry about like his group did, you stood your ground and tossed your own barbs right back at him. It was like a game. A game he seemed to be losing, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop playing.

You looked over to him, a brow raised as you scanned him up and down. “Yes, I do. Do you own a shirt you haven’t ripped the sleeves off of?” You nodded to the button down he was wearing. He’d torn the sleeves off a few days ago because it was too hot to wear them and he needed the fabric to tie markers off on trees to denote what parts of the woods he’d already searched through in case the others ever decided to get off their asses and help look for Sophia. He had a few other shirts that had sleeves at some point but no longer did that he wore in a common rotation. He must have had a sour look on his face at your retaliating comment because you shook your head and chuckled under your breath, “don’t play stupid games if you don’t wanna win stupid prizes.”

You walked through the woods mostly in silence after that, not wanting to make an abundance of noise and end up accidentally spooking the deer. That became a competition as well, with you both smirking in triumph every time the other stepped on a twig or kicked up a bit of dirt in your effort to leave as little evidence of a trail as possible. Eventually, as you were coming up on a clearing near the edge of your property where the tall grass almost completely covered the view of your home in the distance, Daryl stuck his hand out to stop you and put a finger to his lips, pointing towards the buck you’d both been after peeking out through the foliage, whining softly and doing its best to lick at the wound in its back leg. You took cover behind a honeysuckle bush and Daryl nodded at you and your gun, “I got the last shot, your turn.”

You hesitated a second, scanning the woods and warily looking towards your farm. “Too close to home to use the gun now, it’d attract the dead to our property. Lemme borrow that crossbow of yours.” You held your hand out for it and Daryl clutched it away from your grasp. You looked at him first confused by his reluctance then annoyed, “please?” you said petulantly. After a beat of studying your face he eventually relented, but only after you’d started pouting a little. The second it was in your grip you hefted it up, remarking that it was heavier than you expected.

Daryl watched you handle it a bit clumsily as you got used to holding it and his fingers itched to show you how to aim it right. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He came up behind you and put his hands on your hips, angling them the right way so you had a solid stance. He felt you stiffen under his hands and could hear your breath catching in your throat. “You wanna stand like this,” he coached, his arms coming around you to adjust your elbows and help you aim the weapon straight. You leaned back against his chest a little, maybe unconsciously, maybe on purpose. “Then just use the arrow tip like a sight and pull the trigger.” He could feel you shift as his breath brushed against the skin of your neck. The way you acted made you so big and imposing, but actually having you in his arms made you feel so small and demure; like he could envelop you entirely and keep you all to himself if he wanted. The way you’d been acting the past half hour made him feel like you might want that, too. The idea sort of excited him a little—made his pants and his chest feel tight. There was a quiet moment where he expected you to aim and fire, but it passed and the arrow still hadn’t been shot. He turned to look at you and see what the hold up was. Surley, you weren’t that unsure of your aim. He flinched back a bit when he moved his head in your direction and almost brushed noses with you, as you were not looking at the deer and had instead shifted to look back at him, a look on your face reminiscent of a cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“You really are just like any other man, aren’t you?” you crooned out in a teasing tone.

“What?” his mind went blank in his dumbfoundedness and that was all he could manage to utter.

“In my experience, I’ve found that any man who’s attracted to a woman is always willing to believe two things about her: One, that she doesn’t know anything about anything and needs him to help her, and two, that she’s just as attracted to him as he is to her.” Daryl’s mouth opened and closed like a fish at that statement, unsure what you meant or how he was supposed to respond. In that time you yanked yourself out of his grip, redid your stance, took aim with perfect form, and let loose an arrow with absolutely no hesitation. The deer let out a sad bleat as it was shot in the eye and then it crumpled into the grass, dead as a doornail. You handed his crossbow back to him with a nasty, shit-eating grin. “Do I really strike you as the type of person who’d ask to borrow somethin’ I didn’t know how to use? Honestly now, all I had to do was bat my lashes and push up my tits and you were all ‘here, let me get up close behind you and show you how to hold this big heavy tool’.” You said those last three words in an erotic and over dramatic moan, getting close to press your breasts against him as you ran your hand up his chest.

He pushed you away, a heavy blush heating his face while you began to cackle maniacally at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know you knew how to use it when you were fumbling with it like a toddler?” he barked out angrily as you stepped out from behind the bush you’d both been hiding behind and began walking towards the farm, still laughing. “Hey! Ain’t you gonna take the deer? It’s your kill!”

You turned around with mirth dancing in your eyes and a wide happy grin on your face. The light of the setting sun bounced off your hair making it look so shiny as the light summer breeze ran through it, making it float and sway around you in such a pretty way. Daryl felt his heart pound hard in his chest as he glared over your retreating figure. You were walking backwards, tucking a few strands of hair that had flown into your face back behind your ear as you said, “Who, me? But I'm just a ‘little thing’ who’d get tired if I carried it all the way back. You’re the big strong man—use those big strong muscles to carry it back for me. Oh, and since you’re the big strong provider, you can go ahead and string it up, drain it, and skin it, too. Thanks for your help,” you sing-songed sarcastically, “I just don’t know how I ever woulda done it without you!” Daryl began to huff, storming towards you for a second, unsure of what he’d even do if he caught you, but he felt like you’d just tricked him and he didn’t like it. You held your hands up in your defense as you saw him coming. “Stupid games, stupid prizes,” you reiterated with a shrug as you giggled and turned, running back towards the farm and leaving him in the thicket with the dead buck.

Daryl got the sudden sense as he watched you slow your pace to a jog then a brisk walk once you’d gotten far enough away that this had all been a test of some kind. He couldn’t tell if he passed or failed, but you certainly seemed pleased about the results either way. He kicked at the ground, a clump of dirt launching into the air as he did so, and moved to heft the buck over his shoulder. He didn’t know if or when you’d ever come looking to play again, but if you did, he’d make sure he won.

As he strung up the deer in a tree a little ways away from the group’s makeshift camp later that afternoon, cutting at its arteries and letting the blood drain out of it, he imagined what you might look like when he got the upper hand on you. What would you look like when the sneers and the smirks were wiped away and you were pinned down, completely at his mercy—all flustered with your cheeks flushed, trying to squirm your way out from under him. He bet you’d still have bite. He bet you would still spit venom, but maybe he could get you to purr for him, too. Maybe he could get you to look at him the way you looked at your family, all sweet smiles and gentle touches. The thought made him eager to play another one of your stupid little games.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

[phoenixkaptain]

I love Stardew Valley and I love the community and I love how we all bond over pixelated chickens like we’re seventy-year-old women bonding over grandchildren- - -

But I get so annoyed with the character hate, like!!! All the characters are great!! All the romance-able characters are great!! I keep getting recommended videos about the bad parts of characters and I just want to scream!!

Penny: lovely. Charming. Kids are a big part of dating her because she teaches kids, of course she’s going to react a bit badly if you hate children. She is trying to teach kids so that they don’t have to have the same life she and her mother do, why do you hate this woman who is just anxious?

Shane: lovely. Charming. Perfect. “He still drinks after we get married, which ruins the whole story” NO. No. Shane is an alcoholic, and a severe one. If he quit cold-turkey, he would fucking die. “Harvey pumped his stomach” HE WOULD DIE. And I don’t care that my husband is messy, he has his own room and I don’t have to go over there!!

Maru: lovely. Charming. She hates working. She loves working on machines. She thinks about machines to build for you to make life easier. She’s adorable. She has a complicated relationship with her brother and I want to help them fix it goddangit because I love fictional siblings.

Elliott: lovely. Charming. An artist. He only leaves his home for like four hours a day. I can really relate to the desire to shave off all of one’s own hair. I feel that in my bones. Also, is friends with Willy and I fucking love Willy so A++

Leah: “she’s a lesbian” She’s fucking bi stop erasing bi rep in Bi Rep the Video Game

Sam: he’s a musician and a skater. This is what the perfect man looks like.

Emily: just the most charming. She has a complicated relationship with her sister because she takes care of her. She works at a saloon, how can someone not love a literal saloon worker? She’s crazy, she’s wild, she’s a flower child, I’m in love with her

Harvey: glasses. Doctor man. Occasionally puts on headphones to not so subtly hint that he doesn’t want to talk to you. This is what the perfect man looks lik-

Abigail: I don’t see a lot of people complain about Abigal, but I’ve seen a few and it just feels like- you guys love Sebastian so much but don’t like Abigail? What type of double standard is this?

Alex: everyone always says not to date him if your playing a female farmer, but honestly, his dialogue only cuts out parts if you play male. Like, he still says he felt different about you from day one even if you’re playing as a girl. The character affected the most by your gender choice in regards to dating Alex is George, and if you’ve already befriended George, he’ll apologize for being mean about your sexuality when he never even said anything mean about your sexuality, which is kind of funny

I never see people complain about Haley or Sebastian, which is fair, because Haley has a cute character arc and Sebastian loves frogs (this is what the perfect man lo-) My only problem is that people praise these two but rag on everyone else when I feel like all the characters are balanced pretty evenly in terms of good-bad traits.

Which trait is which is dependent on the person playing the game anyway, so when someone like me plays, I can’t help but find the characters perfect because I’m very forgiving when it comes to fictional characters’ undesirable traits. I mean, my favourite trait of all is stupidity, pure and unbridled, I’m talking facepalm-inducing, groan-worthy, the type of character people complain about the most; the type of stupid that makes people stop enjoying things. How can I dislike these characters who are cute and a bit awkward and so ready to bed the first hot farmer they come across even when that farmer sifts through their trash and passes out three steps away from their own house and drinks mayonnaise and would eat hay given half the chance. Like come on. They’re all moron-sexual. I can relate to that.

In conclusion: your favourite bachelor and/or bachelorette is as wonderful as you think they are and screw the people who try to tell you otherwise. The characters are great because they appeal to different people. Enjoy the game and enjoy the dating and I swear to God if I see another person say that certain farm layouts are bad because they don’t make enough money- the game doesn’t have a time limit! You can make as much money as you want! You could sell one sap everyday and nothing else and you would still be able to make it to however much money you desire to have. There’s not really a fast way to make ten billion gold, that doesn’t mean that the farm layouts you don’t like are bad and yes I’m ranting just because I love the slopes of the mining farm its layout is chamrjng and picturesque and provides a unique challenge to decorating and placing buildings and it’s actually the BEST farm layout because I just decided so and-!

Stardew Valley is a great game, 10/10 would recommend, and the new update is already great because I found carrot seeds and I like carrots :)

[sapphicantics]

She’ll Live

Pairing: Gretchen Wieners x fem!reader

Summary: A game of truth or dare reveals that Gretchen’s feelings might not be as unrequited as she thought.

Contents: insecure!Gretchen, jealous!Gretchen, talks of not being good enough, starts off kind of angsty but gets fluffy by the end, one (1) use of y/n

Word count: 1.1K

Note: Never struggled so hard to write a kiss scene like I did here. I’m not really proud of how this ended, it’s kinda rushed but it is what it is.

— — — —

Gretchen Weiners is having an existential crisis.

Okay, so that’s an over-exaggeration, but she is freaking out.

Why?

Because Regina’s talked a group of them into a game of truth or dare. Which isn’t actually a problem because Gretchen loves truth or dare, it’s the perfect opportunity for her to get dirt on her classmates, the problem is who is playing the game.

There’s her, Regina, and Karen, obviously, a bunch of jocks from various different sports teams, some random people she doesn’t know or care about from other schools that got invited.

Oh, and her crush is playing too.

You’re sat across from her, nursing a drink while whispering and giggling with Regina next to you. The two of you are very close, too close for Gretchen’s comfort actually, and the fact that you’ve already been dared to take your shirt off so you’re sitting in just your bra and bottoms showing off so much skin Gretchen can’t help thinking about how soft it’d feel under her fingers and under her lips, thinking about how your skin would taste on her tongue and how many licks it would take to have you shuddering underneath of her begging her to go lower and lower until her face is pressed against your pussy-

A loud laugh pulls Gretchen from her head and her breath catches in her throat at her thoughts, ridiculously wondering if someone can read her mind and knows the dirty things swirling in there about you.

It’s a ridiculous thing to think as that’s obviously not possible, but the alcohol is getting to her and making her think crazy things that would never happen — like her having a chance with you.

It’s wishful thinking, but you’re clearly attracted to Regina, and how could she ever stand a chance against her?

She couldn’t even stand a chance against Taylor Wadell for Jason so she knows she doesn’t have a chance against Regina for you.

It’s fine, though, she’ll live.

“Alright, y/n, truth or dare?”

Gretchen watches as you smirk, gesturing up and down your body. “Dare, obviously.”

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Trying to see some live girl on girl action are you, Shane? That’s disgusting.” You down the rest of your drink before shrugging, shaking your head in amusement. “Very well.”

Gretchens’ heart crumbles knowing she’ll have to sit and watch you kiss Regina and act like it doesn’t bother her when it really does. It always bothers her, no one she likes ever gives her a chance, no one she likes ever likes her.

She knows that’s not something that can be helped, not something she can control. She knows she can’t make you like her like that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her to want you and know she’ll never have you.

It’s fine, though, she’ll live.

She’ll move on, eventually. Maybe her heart will latch on to another person who wants someone else instead of her, maybe she’ll finally find someone who does want her, maybe she’ll be stuck harboring a crush on you for the rest of her life like she’s been doing since the sixth grade.

But it’s fine, though, she’ll live.

A shadow falls over her and then you’re on your knees in front of her, eyes shining brightly as you stare at her. “Hi, Gretchen. Can I kiss you?”

Her cheeks flush and she’s glad this is her fourth drink because she can blame the redness in them on the alcohol coursing through her system and not the fact that your question is everything she’s ever wanted to hear from you.

“W-what?” She stutters.

“I have to kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” you explain to her, head tilting ever so slightly as your lips curl into a half smile. “So is it okay if I kiss you?”

This can’t be real.

She’s dreaming. She has to be.

Gretchen can’t help it, her eyes shoot over to Regina expecting to see the blonde glaring at her, subtly daring her to try if she wants to, but instead she sees Regina smiling at her.

“Gretch?”

Her eyes turn back to yours and immediately drop to your lips. She stares at them, wondering if they’re as soft as they look before she swallows and nods her head in agreement. “That’s fine,” she says, and she prays you can’t hear the way her voice rises in pitch over the music.

You lean in and brush your lips teasingly against hers and Gretchen can’t help the soft sigh that escapes at the contact. You cradle her face in your hands, stroking your thumb softly along her cheek and pull her face closer to yours, this time fully connecting your lips in a proper kiss and, holy shit, it’s like fireworks going off.

Gretchen’s lips are so, so, soft against yours, softer than you ever imagined, and they taste sweet like cherries which admittedly you don’t like the taste of, but on Gretchen’s lips the taste is amazing.

You have no idea similar thoughts are going through Gretchen’s head.

You break the kiss for but a moment, taking a breath of air before diving back in and swiping your tongue along her lips in a request for entrance which she obliges eagerly, a shiver rushing down her spine as your tongues battle for dominance.

“Hey, we’re still in the middle of a game, you know.”

Gretchen breaks apart from you this time, her chest heaving as she processes the prior moments.

You got dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room and you kissed her over anyone else.

You think she’s the prettiest girl in the room.

The knowledge makes her heart flutter and she can’t stop the smile that rises to her face.

“Alright, Gretchen,” you call, voice raspy from lack of oxygen and Gretchen flutters her eyes open to see you still in front of her, a blissed out smile on your face. “Truth or dare?”

Gretchen wants to kiss you again. She can say dare and you can give her the same one then she can feel your lips against hers once more. She licks her lips at the thought; she really wants to, but even drunk she doesn’t have that type of confidence.

So like a coward, she takes the easy way out. “Truth.”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Her brain short circuits and her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red. “I… I’d love to.”

Gretchen doesn’t remember much after that, but when she wakes the next morning in Regina’s parents spare bedroom with her head on your chest and your arms wrapped around her waist, the sunlight peeking through the blinds casting an ethereal glow on your skin, she knows that when she says it this time, it’s true.

She’ll live.

And she’ll live in happiness with you.

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

141 & Rabbit Headcanons [IKYLHT]

Series Masterlist | Prev: Personnel Files | Next: Chapter One

Please Note: This is my attempt at a spoiler-free introduction to the characters and their dynamics. This is meant to be read before the first chapter, and thus must be vague at points. THIS DOES CONTAIN SOME MW3 SPOILERS

-

141 + Rabbit Dynamics:

Soap:

Rabbit's ride or die right here, twin flame type of energy

First person she actually enjoyed the company of at the UK base while on assignment alongside the rest of the Demon Dogs

Subsequently the first to worm his way into her heart- sinks his hooks into her side and refuses to leave (not to worry, you'd have to pry her off of him, anyways)

Runs into her coming out of the mess hall, sees 'Highwater' stitched into her uniform and realizes this was the soldier Sparks had told him about

Oh yeah, that month long prank war with Shane 'Shitbag' Sparks (yes, she'd come up with that one herself) that the rest of the Demon Dogs decided to join in on? He made sure to tell Soap, because why not recruit the demolitions expert in his task of torturing his sister-in-arms?

Soap immediately decides on implementing her rename. 'Oh, you already have a callsign that half the base refers to you by? One that acknowledges your military expertise and the nine grueling years you've dedicated to the service? That's weird, cuz your name is Rabbit now and that's that' type mentality

She knew the reference immediately, hands twitching with the urge to unsheathe her spare knife because there was only one person that'd broadcast the story

Goddammit, Sparks, I will shiv you

"Excuse me? Where'd you hear that from, Sergeant?"

"A good friend never tells. I could always think of calling you somethin' worse?"

"Call me something worse and I'll have you written up for disrespecting a superior officer"

"Understood, Rabbit" said with a fucking grin

Despite being the one to rename her, literally never uses her callsign once he declares them best friends

Calls her Bunny or Bun, which surprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [platonic] love and affection

Spent damn near every waking moment with her, which unsurprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [romantic] love and affection

Sparring? Let me wrap your hands

Going out? Here, I'll zip your coat

Smoking? C'mon Bun, tell me what's bothering you, I can help

It was the little, everyday acts of love kindness from Soap that had her hooked on the feeling of being in his presence

So you can imagine how devastating it'd felt for the both of them when the special unit had been called back to the states

Even with promises to call and text and facetime, the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach made him realize there were feelings he harbored towards Rabbit that went beyond the typical bond between soldiers

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before ushering her up the ramp and onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him

Not that either admitted it to the other at the time, but they'd both been teased to no end about their 'special friendship' by the rest of their units, cheeks warming yet refusing to deny the accusations

Like true friends, though, they did kept their promise

If it wasn't hours of texting it was calls, only skipping days when on mission but always sure to inform the other of their departure beforehand

It was hard most days. Seeing the other come back from days or even weeks of no-contact with new cuts and bruises

It was especially hard, though, after Verdansk

Soap had beaten himself up pretty hard after the whole ordeal with Makarov- the guilt of not being able to save those people in the airport, the shame of losing his cool in front of his superiors, the regret of not just avenging those people by shooting the man and facing the consequences later- he'd talked through his entire range of emotions with her despite the distance

Then, because the universe always yearned for cruelty, she got the assignment

Covert operation

Ciudad Victoria

Two days, wheels up at 0400

Now her home base had been Pendleton since basic, and if there's one thing the San Diego base requires, it's soldiers willing to cross the border and sweat their asses off for hours on end scouting some target for shit pay and no reward

She'd done it before, six months turned into twelve turned into eighteen until eventually she'd been volunteering to go, years under her belt and quickly moving up the ranks, Mexico now a second home in her mind. Anything to get away from that place

But Victoria? That was a city she'd only seen on mission reports, only heard of by way of interrogation

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to tell her he'd miss her before ushering her to dump her phone in her locker and get onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him again

Soap didn't get a call for quite a while after that

His first contact, actually, hadn't even been Rabbit

It was Sparks

Locker pried open with permission from Griggs (not that he waited even a second to be granted it), he'd charged her phone and called the one person he thought deserved to know

"MacTavish? It's Sparks. Highwater, she's... she's MIA. Entire task force was found slaughtered. An ambush, I think. We don't- we're not entirely sure yet. Griggs can't get a straight answer. The whole things fucked, we can't- the area's got it's own governing body. They haven't... they've searched but they haven't found a body. We're not calling it until they do. I'm sorry, kid."

Two months

Two months Soap cried until his lungs spasmed

Two months Soap cried until his head ached and eyes burned

Two months Soap cried to his mother about the woman he loved

Two months until he got the call that damn near restarted his heart

"Soap? Soap, we found her. We have her, she's being taken to medical. We found her, kid."

Johnny's not sure he remembers a time he'd cried harder. He'd like to say it was when Sparks had first called him, but even then, he held onto some hope she'd made it out 'like you always do'

That'd been their promise to each other, and he vividly recalls telling Price that as he sobbed over the man's shoulder in relief

She'd been put on medical leave, forced to wave goodbye to her family as they flew off to Urzikstan without her

It was at that point- hearing her cry over the phone about how useless she'd felt being left behind, how she'd failed the only family that had ever truly cared about her- that he realized a trip to the states was in dire need

Entered the U.S. friends, exited the U.S. partners

Johnny's a man that focuses on the positives

He doesn't talk about those two months. Not to his therapist, not to his ma, not to Price

He focuses on the fact that his torment is over, he focuses on the woman laying her head on his shoulder and tapping her boot against his on the shaky helicarrier

Because that's all that matters to him. The little moments between missions where they can focus on something other than saving the world for a moment

It's a type of love, a type of dynamic the man had never experienced before

'Intimate' is the best word to describe it

Will 'accidentally' detonate an old grenade taken into the training grounds to 'see if it still worked', just to see the other's eyes light up in a sort of pyromaniac excitement

Will also take up an entire couch quietly lounging, arms wrapped around each other under a shared blanket because 'it's a low energy type of day'

It's all or nothing- completely feral, unhinged 'I'll request the jailcell across from you' behavior or soft, domestic bliss

No words need be exchanged for that energy to shift- just a subtle glance and soft smile, a type of telepathy easily mastered after four years of being together

And Johnny wouldn't have it any other way

Ghost:

Initially doesn't even want to address her by Rabbit

He couldn't take the callsign seriously, especially after realizing this was the woman Soap had been babbling about in Verdansk

He knew more about her personal life than he did her military career, and he'd read her file back to front twice. Well, what hadn't been redacted, anyways

Decides he'll stick to Gun, as requested, but only when necessary. Better than Rabbit, at least

But after Soap's little confession while her comms are down in Las Almas? Now Gun just won't do. Decides to stick with Darling until he's figured out a better one. Knows she won't mind, anyways

Calls her Lovie a small handful of times, blink and you'll miss it, and it's only in a NSFW context ;) soft!dom Ghost supremacy

Settles on Tapeti once the dust settles and he knows he's wormed his way into her heart the same way Soap had

They're close in a way he can't say about anyone else

Does he love his team? Of course

Would he lay his life down for any one of them the second the opportunity presented itself? Also yes

But there's something about shared trauma that bonds the soul

Neither talk about it much

It's honestly easier to use Soap as the go-between on a lot of things

She's already told him, already bared her soul for him to see in that deserted apartment, and Simon's grateful Johnny omits certain heart wrenching details when he runs his hands over her scarred back, runs his hands over the raised tattoos that cover the remnants of Victoria

He doesn't yearn to know the specifics, most days he's not sure he wants to know at all

He'd made peace with his demons a long time ago, had to in order to survive, but he knew it wouldn't be so easy forgiving what'd been done to her

It wasn't hard to infer, anyway

They have a calendar, a pocket sized one with a little magnet attached that hangs on their fridge

It was Ghost's idea, after one of those days when the shakes were debilitating and she couldn't keep her food down

He'd set the container of soup from the deli across their flat on the counter, pulling Soap away from her curled up side and showing him the dollar store purchase

He didn't explain, just scribbled out a few dates and passed the calendar over

So Johnny took the pen and started scratching out days

He didn't explain all of them, only murmured the easy ones like 'her mother's birthday' or 'her comrades death date' or 'Victoria'

There's a deeper understanding there, between the three of them, and if there's one thing Simon can attest to while stomping out the butt of his cigarette onto Grave's false tombstone, it's his appreciation for the man's betrayal in Las Almas that lead him into the couple's outstretched arms

Gaz:

Best boy, here

The baby of the group, a few years younger than Rabbit who shares a birthyear with Soap

Uses that to his advantage

Calls her Officer Hopps on more than one occasion, not afraid to more commonly shorten it down to just 'Hopps'

Always in a playful loving manner, not that it matters when Rabbit's glare quickly follows

Also thinks it's funny to call her 'Gunnery Hopps' when in the presence of other soldiers, tries to play it off as a genuine tongue slip despite his wide grin proving otherwise

Again, uses his baby privilege to his advantage, whipping out the puppy eyes and small kisses that has Rabbit's glare melting into a soft smile

Typically sticks with Love- partially because he's a true Birmingham boy and the term of endearment comes naturally to him- mainly because it keeps her wound around his finger

Starts a fight by betting Price 20 quid he could cut a chunk out of Soap's mohawk? He's running to hide behind her, basking in her warmth and sticking a tongue out at Johnny over her shoulder

Smug as all hell, knows he's been deemed the favorite and is sure to remind the other men of it constantly

He'll tell them it's 'just because she loves me more, mate' but they all know the real reason

It's his calm, level-headed personality and natural ability to lead that endears him to her so easily

She never questions his judgement because what he lacks in years he makes up for in everything else by tenfold

And he looks up to Rabbit immensely- he may not initially know the finer details of her military experience, just general war stories Sparks and the rest of the Demon Dogs had told him in Urzikstan when she'd been out on medical leave, but he does know what being a 0251 MOS entails, knows he'll never come across a better Gunnery Sergeant even if he retires at 80

Aims to become a GySgt after seeing her serve as their unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

Asks a million questions and- though he'd never admit it- keeps a log of their answers in his notes app. He's just organized like that

She noticed anyways, what with his trusting nature and big heart (he gladly passed over his phone passcode within the first week of them being official), and it was actually that notes app list of all the little throw away tidbits about her role on the team that led her to write his letter of recommendation

That’s just the dynamic they have, they bring out the best in each other in every way, even when they don’t think it’s possible given the circumstances

He's only two years younger, and yet he feels so lacking in experience when they're thrown into red-stained chairs with threadbare bags over their heads

"You been tortured before, Gaz?"

"No."

"That's good. Let's keep it that way. Stay quiet and keep your eyes forward."

He remembers blanching at her nonchalant tone, the way she talked as if she'd done this a hundred times before.

She has, he realizes, and he feels a sort of naive embarrassment wash over him when he really thinks about it

Interrogation and Debrief Specialist, he thought, you don't earn that title by just sitting and reading about it

He didn't have much time to sit and process that thought before the men were reentering the dark room

He's unable to fathom how she'd kept her breathing so calm, refrained from letting out a single yell or grunt or sniffle until the men had slammed the metal door on their exit

It was hard for him, returning to base after what had transpired

It didn't sit right with him- the fact that he'd allowed himself to sit there and let the woman he'd been falling in love with be beaten within an inch of her life

But she'd comforted him, face swollen and leg wrapped, knocking her boot into his with a smile

He'd knocked his boot back into hers, and decided from there on out she'd know exactly how much she meant to him

Price:

The only member of the 141 to actually refer to her by her callsign. Captain's professionalism and all that.

Throws it out the window the second he deems necessary- which is quite often- resorts to Sweetheart

He knows more about her than anyone else, Johnny the only exception, and that isn't something he takes lightly

He'd read the reports. The redacted ones. He knew what happened after Victoria, he'd been the one to okay her transfer, to accept doing a favor for the Demon Dogs after their good work in Urzikstan and promising he'd 'keep an eye on her'

He understands the vulnerability in that fact, and is sure to do everything in his power to prove to her he's someone she can trust, even after she's told him time and time again he's done more than enough to prove his loyalty

Fortunately, years of hearing about each other via Soap and the Demon Dogs proved useful once they'd finally met at the top of that wall guarding Alejandro's base, easily falling into a sort of mutual understanding of each other

It helped that he was a natural patriarch, the glue holding the team together, ensuring they worked as a well oiled machine both on and off base

Soap vouched for Price and that was all the convincing Rabbit needed. So when Price vouched for Ghost and Gaz? It felt instinctual to trust the men wholeheartedly

Scary as it was initially, Price just knew. Simple as that, he knew what the team needed and exactly how to go about it, and she trusted that

He was arguably the most experienced in navigating trauma, and that definitely lent a hand to the comfortability of the team

He’s perfected the art of understanding each of the members of the task force and it’s something Rabbit didn’t realize she yearned for until she had it

He’s become the physical embodiment of her safe space in a way she never thought was possible. She breathes easier when he’s in eyesight, the tension drops from her shoulders when he’s near

Despite being one who only rarely accepted physical affection from anyone other than Soap, Rabbit named Price 'Seat of the Year', and that's meant quite literally

Cuddles are mandatory team bonding. He doesn't make the rules (yes he does)

Arguably the most giving partner on the face of the planet

Is happy to lean back in his chair and cut off the blood supply to his legs if it means Rabbit is soothed by the way his hands run over her arms and scratch at her scalp, perched on his lap and quickly drifting off to sleep as he presses light kisses onto the junction between her neck and shoulder

His brain is constantly alerting his body of his need to protect and provide. It'd still happen even if he'd never approved her transfer, that's just the kind of man he is, but he wouldn't have been nearly as emboldened without her there

Gaz yawns in the midst of completing a mission report? He's already tossing the man over his shoulder and forcing him to rest for once

Soap lets out the quietest sigh of pain when that one muscle in his shoulder starts twinging again? He's already pushing the man to sit and rounding the couch to dig his strong hands into the stubborn muscle

Ghost's stomach lets out singular growl? Guess that stack of paperwork can be finished tomorrow, it's now his personal mission to ensure the man has eaten a nutritious meal that checks off every micro and macro nutrient possibly needed to ensure health and prosperity in that beefy body

Perfectly content to love and love and love for absolutely nothing in return besides seeing his team happy and healthy

Unbeknownst to him, he very quickly charms his way into her heart with his thick thighs caring nature, dilf energy warm smiles, and ofc the boonie hat

-

General Character Headcanons:

Rabbit:

-As mentioned in the Personnel Files, Rabbit is a Gunnery Sergeant and a 0251 MOS [Interrogator/Debrief Specialist]

-Gunnery Sergeant is her rank- serving as her unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

-0251 is her job code [MOS]. 0251 specifically means being an Interrogator/Debriefer in the US Marine Corps. This job involves collecting information/intelligence from human sources by means of interrogation, debriefing, and screening. Typical duties are the screening and interrogation of enemy POWs, line crossers, refugees, and other displaced persons, exploiting foreign language documents, and participating in noncombatant evacuation operations

-A common requirement for this job is being at the very least bilingual, and it's canon here that Rabbit speaks Spanish alongside English. With that said, many apologies to those reading this that speak Spanish because I'm using translation websites (yes I disappoint my Mexican grandparents every day)

-Rabbit is a Demon Dog, but was not in Urzikstan due to medical leave. She has direct permission from the US Marine Corps, SAS, and Price to be stationed in the UK base 'on loan' as a Demon Dog since they are part of the Coalition, led by the CIA's best Station Chief Kate Laswell :D

-Again, as shown in the Personnel Files, Rabbit does not have many character descriptors listed. I'm trying my best to make her as inclusive as I possibly can while still flushing out her character. I don't like the self-insert '[h/c] [e/c]' format, so I just avoid it all together

-Rabbit is an only child

-Also it's not really about Rabbit per say but in my story Griggs is a Captain. He leads the Demon Dogs and therefore holds a higher rank that Rabbit. It makes sense to me in this story that he'd be of similar age and rank as Price

Soap:

-I’ve seen a few people say based on his accent Soap is likely from Glasgow but unfortunately I’ve only been to Edinburgh so we’re using our creative liberty here and saying that's where he's from plz and thank u <3

-Johnny is the baby of the family with 3 older sisters. His poor mother was pregnant for damn near four years straight

-He's close with his entire family, but especially his mother and youngest sister

-Also I'm not killing him in this story. I wrote a good portion of it pre-MW3 and that campaign sucked so I'm ignoring it :)

Ghost:

-Simon is from Manchester. Yeah yeah yeah ik there’s a whole thing ab his accent and yada ya but my first London pub-watch rugby game was Leeds vs Wigan, so we’re sticking with canon here

-Wigan is in Greater Manchester so I like the headcanon that Ghost’s father was a ManUnited football fan so teen!Simon said ‘oh fuck that’ and instead chose to take the 45 minute train to go watch rugby in another city

-I'm basing a lot of his character off of both the comics and game, however there is one thing to note. In the comics, 'Sparks' is one of the soldiers that assists in getting Simon's family killed. This is not the same Sparks I refer to in this story. Shane Sparks is a Demon Dog, and I'm writing in his character for specific plot devices. He'll likely be completely OC since I just grabbed his basic profile off the character wiki.

Gaz:

-Haven’t heard any confirmation on where Gaz is from but my love Elliot Knight is from Birmingham so ding ding ding, we have a winner

-Only child, the absolute pride and joy of his parent's life. He's a total mama's boy and it was largely her good morals and outlook on life that steered him in the direction of wanting to better the world

Price:

-Liverpool. Again, I’m not sure if there’s confirmation as to where Price is from but my love ( yes I can have two >:| ) Barry Sloane is from Livahpewl soooooo

-Semi-sad headcanon for Price here. Idk why but I feel a strong pull to the idea that his parents have passed, despite him only being 36 in my story, putting them somewhere in their 60's

-On a happier note, I also like the idea that John is an older brother, so we're going with that

-

<3

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

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

Warnings: Blood, childbirth, character death

Chapter: 3.03

“Come on, you can do it.”

Jace wraps his small hands around your fingers and manages to take a few steps in front of you before stumbling forward, but you use your hand to break his fall, so your hands are between his knees and the ground below. Jace repeats this action a few times until he becomes too tired and curls into your arms.

Carl claps his hands and says, “Well done, little guy.”

“Wow, big day for the both of us,” Hershel chuckles. “Give it a few days, and me and Jace will be racing each other in the yard.”

Hershel had adapted quickly to his leg amputation and learned how to walk with crutches. He looks great considering how much trauma his body had gone through a few days prior. Hershel really was a strong man. “You’re looking great; it’s good to see you up and about.”

“Well, Beth told me you helped her alter my trousers; I just wanted to say thank you in person.” Now leaning against the wall beside where you’re sitting on the ground, Hershel uses one of the crutches to point at a folded-up piece of paper falling out of your pocket. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” you say as you stand and shove the paper back into your pocket. “Me and Daryl are going on a supply run later; I was just making a list so I don’t forget anything.”

Carl cocks his head to the side. “I thought my dad said we had plenty of food.”

“I need more baby supplies, not just for Jace but also for your new brother or sister as well.” You didn’t want to embarrass your nephew by explaining that your breast milk was drying up. Daryl had overheard you telling Maggie at breakfast and immediately offered to accompany you. Changing the subject, you look to Hershel and ask, “So, how far have you walked now?”

“Only up and down this cell block so far, but I'm going for a stroll outside. Care to join?”

—

“Can I hold him?”

“Sure,” you smile down at Jace, who was trying his hardest to fight sleep. His eyelids would flutter shut, then he'd force them, then he’d whine and open them again. When Beth holds him, he beams up at her before his eyes betray him and close again. “You’re really good with him.”

Beth was only sixteen, and regardless of losing so many people at such a young age, kindness radiated from her. Beth would make such a good mom someday. You smile, noticing the proud look on Maggie, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn’s faces as they watch Hershel walk outside for the first time with his crutches.

Carl raises his gun. “Walkers!”

“Everybody, get inside now!”

You cover Beth as she runs to safety. Hershel hits a walker with his crouch and makes it into the small, fenced-off area with his daughter and Jace. The undead continue to close in on you, their hands reaching out to grab hold of your clothing and pull you down, but you manage to dodge their grasp and continue to fight, the bullets you fire landing in their rotting bodies. Rick, Daryl, and Glenn sprint to the prison yard, but you didn’t have time to wait for them.

“Y/n, quick!” Maggie waves you over to join her, Carl, and Lori as they go into the prison.

You narrowly avoid walkers while getting to the doorway. But you’re unable to close the door behind you, knowing Jace is on the other side of the yard. But when you look back, you see that your brother has reached them and is taking the dead out one by one. Knowing your son is safe, you slam the door shut.

As you run from the walkers already in the prison, your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up with the others. You swear you can feel the hot breath of the undead on your heels, and when you glance back, you see Shane. Except it couldn't be him; his body is still on the farm. The walkers' moans and groans grow louder as they close in on you.

“Aunt y/n! In here!”

You run to the cell block Carl, Lori, and Maggie are in. Soon as your nephew slams the gated door shut, while catching your breath, you notice Lori crouching over in pain, her hand pressing against her back. “Somethings wrong.”

“Are you bit?” Carl asks, panicked.

“No, no, the baby is coming.”

A deafening alarm starts to blast through the prison. You clap your hands over your ears. “We need to move; that damn thing will draw every walker right to us.”

—

You manage to make it to the boiler room without coming into contact with many walkers. You help Lori stand; her screams of pain fill the air. She lets out a deep breath. “The baby is coming, now!”

While Maggie helps Lori lay down and take her pants off, you go to Carl, who is terrified and crying. You gently squeeze his shoulders. “Carl, keep an eye on the door for us, just not, okay?”

His voice is filled with fear and uncertainty. “Is my mom going to make it?”

Unable to respond, you kiss him on the forehead and turn him to face the door. He didn’t need to see his mom give birth.

When you hear Maggie saying, “Okay, it’s time,”

You go over to where Lori is standing, gripping tightly onto the metal poles tightly as she starts to push. You're not sure how to help, you let Lori squeeze your hand so tightly that it will probably bruise as she tries to push again.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Maggie says. Maggie holds up her blood-coated hands. “Somethings wrong.”

—

“Mom, look at me. Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”

As you watch Carl cry, your heart breaks not only for Lori but also because you know he’s about to witness his mother dying. Tears stream down your face as the realization sinks in that she was going to die during childbirth.

“I know what it means, and I’m not losing my baby.” She looks directly at Maggie and says, “You’ve got to cut me open.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You won’t survive.”

“My baby has to survive, please. My baby... for all of us. Please! Maggie! Please!”

“Carl? Baby, I don’t want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want; this is right. Now you... you take care of your daddy for me, all right? And your little brother or sister, you take care.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Carl weeps.

Lori breathes through the pain and says, “You’re going to be fine. You are going to beat this world. I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, so brave, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maggie holds onto you while sobbing; she wasn’t ready to perform a C-section with Carl’s knife. The baby was breech, and this was the only way to save them. Lori knew that and was saying goodbye. When she meets your gaze, you immediately crumble. No matter how much she hurt you in the past, you never wanted this.

When you kneel beside her, Lori wipes your tears away. “Y/n, when this is all over, you need to do what we talked about; it can’t be Rick.”

“No, no, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can; you need to. And promise me you will love this baby as if it were your own, and you'll take care of Rick and Carl for me. They will need you.”

Kissing the back of her hand, you nod, tears obscuring your vision.

Carl hands Maggie the knife.

All three of them were being so brave. Hershel had taught his daughter the basics of a c-section, so Maggie would take the lead. “Carl, baby, turn around.” Through your blurred vision, you see him still watching. “You don’t want to remember your mom like this; please turn around or close your eyes.”

When Maggie makes the first cut, Lori screams out in agony, and Carl begs for the brunette to stop. Lori suddenly goes still; you weren’t sure if she had bled out or passed out due to the shock of the pain.

“Y/n, give me your hand. Y/n please.” Maggie places your hand on Lori's stomach, where she needs it. “Keep that site clean, okay? If I cut too deep, I’m going to cut the baby.”

Everything that happens next feels like a blur. The alarms have been cut, and the room remains silent except for the distant growling of walkers. Behind you, Carl froze, unable to talk or move.

“I can see the ear. I’ll hold this open, and you pull the baby.”

You follow Maggie’s instructions and pull the baby out. “It’s a girl.” When the baby doesn’t make a sound, you turn her over and rub and pat her back until her cries fill the room. You sob, “She’s breathing; she’s breathing.”

After Maggie cuts the umbilical cord, Carl takes off his jacket and gives it to you to wrap the baby in.

“We can’t stay long,” you whisper to Maggie. “The walkers will smell the blood.”

“I can’t leave my mom like this; she’ll turn.”

“He’s right,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut, and when you open them again, Carl is pointing a gun at his mom's head. “No, no, no!”

He pulls the trigger.

—

The closer you get to exit, the louder Jace’s cries become, which is a relief knowing you’d see him any second, but it didn’t change the massive gaping wound in your heart. Lori was gone. If it wasn’t for the newborn baby in your arms, you would have thought everything that just happened was a horrid hallucination.

Your voice breaks as soon as you see your brother. “Rick…Rick…”

Upon hearing your voice, he smiles for a split second, but the horror etched onto your face and the baby in your arms, and immediately knows that his wife didn't make it.

“Wh-wheres Lori? Where is she?”

You try to answer him, but only a sob comes out.

When Rick tries to go up the staircase you just came from, Maggie stops him. “No,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Rick, no!”

If he saw Lori as you left her, it would completely break him. Rick looks to Carl, hoping his son can reassure him that Lori isn’t dead. “No…no…no.” He cries, “No, no, no!”

Your heart breaks for the innocent baby screaming in your arms, as well as your brother and nephew. She was born into a world that is so cruel and full of darkness and death. You start to shake, your body wracked with sobs, as the guilt of not being able to save Lori sinks in.

Daryl hands Jace to Beth and comes over to you, his eyes full of concern. He wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder. Softly, he asks, “What is it?”

“A girl,” you say, your voice wavering. “She’s—she’s dead. Lori’s dead. The baby… she was the wrong way.”

Holding you tighter Daryl whispers, “There was nothing you could have done.”

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 23

Summary: Tension crackles between you and Daryl as an argument reveals the deep care and longing for each other, even in your frustration. In stark contrast, a flashback to you and Shane in his police cruiser shows possessiveness masquerading as protection, his need for control overwhelming any hint of tenderness.

notes: Sorry, I know it's a bit of a long chapter. It felt wrong to not keep the current scenes all together since it's such high emotional stakes. So, hope you enjoy this extra long chapter!

no warnings apply: everyone is so damn emotional in this chapter dude, lmk if I missed anything though!

x flash forward x

You poked the small kindling fire with a branch, watching the flames flicker as they caught on the dried wood. The branch felt brittle in your hand, snapping slightly as you pressed it into the embers. Every few moments, you glanced up at Daryl, who sat against the rock wall under the towering tree. His face was a blank canvas, no sign of emotion, but his eyes stayed locked on the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. You could tell he didn’t have any intention of going back to the group anytime soon. And honestly, if he stayed out here, so would you.

The thought of the group back at the camp felt distant. You didn’t have the same ties as the others—aside from the one person who still lingered in your mind, a ghost of a relationship that once meant something. “Haunted” might be too harsh a word, you thought. You did love Shane once, after all. But the way he had changed, the way the world around you was changing… it made you wonder if leaving it all behind and sticking with Daryl was the better choice.

There were good people in the group. Glenn had a good heart, and Maggie had started warming up to you, one of the few Greene family members who really noticed you were even there. Andrea had shown a moment of vulnerability today, but she still felt like a stranger. Dale was kind, but you never exchanged much beyond pleasantries.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled you out of your thoughts. You straightened, instinctively glancing at Daryl to see if he noticed, though you already knew he had. His eyes flicked briefly to the shadows before returning to the fire, unconcerned. His calm told you everything you needed to know—it was one of the group. Then you heard the even breathing, the light jogging stride… not the slow, shuffling gait of a walker.

Your eyes shifted toward the approaching figure, and you saw Carol emerging from the shadows. Her face was flushed, arms swinging with urgency. Panic clung to her movements, though she tried to keep it contained. You shifted in your seat, watching her with concern, then flicked your gaze to Daryl again, waiting for his reaction. But he didn’t move, didn’t look up, his focus remained on the fire. His indifference made your brow furrow.

Why was he so quick to dismiss her?

“We can’t find Lori,” Carol pants, finally reaching the fire. You try to hide the frustration that’s been simmering, keeping your face neutral as she continues, “and the others aren’t back yet either.”

Daryl doesn’t even glance up at her. “Yeah, dumb bitch must’ve gone off lookin’ for ‘em,” he mutters, poking at the fire with the branch you'd dropped earlier. His words make you cringe internally—no matter how you felt about Lori, the name-calling felt too harsh.

Carol’s face shifts into confusion, her brows furrowing as she breathlessly asks, “What?”

“She asked me to go,” Daryl explains, still focused on the flames. “Told ‘er I was done bein’ an errand boy.”

Carol’s gaze shifts to you, searching for something. “Y/N?”

You shift uncomfortably but offer the truth. “She was rude, Carol. Told him he was selfish for not goin’.”

Carol’s expression hardens as her mouth tightens, “And you didn’t say anything?” 

She spins around, taking a few steps away but then pauses, looking back toward the tent you two had set up together. Her voice softens, the pain evident in her tone. “Don’t do this,” she pleads, the words thick with sorrow. “Please, I’ve already lost my girl.”

Daryl stands abruptly, tossing the branch aside as he walks up to her, stopping uncomfortably close to her face. “Yeah, n’ that wasn’t my problem neither,” he spits, his voice cold and cutting. You stand quickly, tension rippling through the air as Carol's face contorts in quiet pain.

You step toward her, your voice barely above a whisper. “Carol, I’m really sorry,” you murmur, but she just shakes her head, her chin trembling. Without another word, she turns and runs back to camp, leaving you and Daryl standing in the thick, uncomfortable silence.

Daryl doesn’t move. Neither do you.

-----

It’s only a little while later before both your heads turn toward a rustling in the tall grass. You see Carol walking around again but when Daryl moves to stand, the familiar angry look darkening his face, you instinctively grab his arm. “Be gentle, Dare,” you whisper, releasing without a response from him, though the tension in his body remains.

Carol’s focus is on Daryl’s things—the long line tied between two trees with squirrels hanging down, skinned and drying. She barely notices him coming up behind her.

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl demands, his voice low and sharp.

Her voice is soft, almost drowned out by the breeze, but you can see her brows furrow as she looks up at him, “Keepin’ an eye on you.”

“Ain’t you a peach?” His tone is biting, his gaze narrowing as he studies her. You bite your lip, knowing where this is heading.

“I’m not gonna let you pull away—” she says, her voice wavering slightly as she glances over at you, including you in her words. “Neither of you.” When Daryl doesn’t respond, she adds, more firmly, “You’ve earned your place.”

Daryl’s face twists in anger. “If you spent half your time minding your daughter’s business instead of stickin’ your nose in everybody else’s, she’d still be alive!”

Your heart sinks as the words leave his mouth, brutal and unforgiving. You put your head in your hands, inwardly groaning—so much for being gentle.

But Carol doesn’t budge. She’s not crying, just standing there, quiet. “Go ahead,” she says softly.

“Go ahead n’ what?” Daryl snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “I mean it—just go! I don’t want you here!”

He steps closer to her, getting in her face, and you jump to your feet, rushing over to hold him back. Your hand grips his arm, trying to keep him from getting any closer, but he’s fuming, pointing a finger dangerously close to Carol’s face. “You’re a real piece of work, lady.”

“Daryl, come on, that’s enough,” you plead, your voice firm but gentle, trying to defuse the situation.

But Daryl isn’t finished. He scoffs, his face twisted in resentment, not looking at you, “What? You gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that?” You flinch at the memory of Will Dixon, but Daryl just jerks his arm free, pushing forward again.

“Pfft, you don’t know jack.” he says, his eyes full of the fire that reflects in them.

“Daryl, enough!” you snap, your voice rising with urgency, but he’s relentless, fueled by pain and anger.

He gets even closer to Carol, his voice dropping to a more dangerous, cutting tone. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid ‘cause you’re all alone! Got no husband, no daughter,” he says, his laughter cold and empty. “You don’t know what to do with yourself. And you ain’t my problem! Sophia wasn’t mine !” His voice is loud and grating at his final words, “All you had to do was keep an eye on her!” Carol flinches, pulling her head back away from him.

You step between them now, shoving at his chest, trying to create space. “Daryl, stop! That’s enough!” Your words are sharper this time, desperate.

He stumbles back slightly, but his eyes remain locked on Carol, burning with a fury that seems to have no outlet. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the weight of his words begins to sink in.

“You’ve done enough, Daryl,” you say, your voice firm but low, still trying to get through to him. “Are you happy now? Got it all off your chest?”

Carol hasn’t moved, standing tall despite the tears glistening in her eyes. She doesn’t look away, her gaze steady, though her lips tremble with barely contained emotion. Daryl's harsh breathing slows as the rawness of what he’s said starts to settle over him. He sways slightly, still locked in place, as you take a step back, your breath coming out in steady gulps after the tension that just exploded from him. 

After what feels like a moment that stretches into intense eternity, Carol breaks her gaze from Daryl, and turns to leave.

----

The fire crackles softly, the only source of light in the dark, quiet night. The flames cast shadows that dance across the ground, flickering against the trees and the worn canvas of Daryl’s tent, pitched far from the camp. The air is cool, but the tension between you is thick. You couldn’t believe the way he blew up at Carol, even though you knew it was only because he was hurting just as much as she was. To cool off and think of how you wanted to approach him, you had gone to grab the rest of your things from the other tents to stay with him for the night. You felt like you couldn’t leave him all on his own after today.

You approach slowly, your footsteps muffled by the earth, but Daryl doesn’t move. He’s sitting by the fire now, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him, staring into the flames like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His face is tight, drawn, as though he’s been wrestling with something all night, and now it’s winning.

You stop a few feet away, hesitating as you watch the firelight flicker across his hardened expression. You swallow, take a breath, then step closer. “You didn’t have to yell at her like that, you know.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look up. “Leave it.”

You don’t move. “Carol didn’t deserve that. She’s grieving—same as the rest of us.”

“I said leave it,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but you don’t back down.

“No,” you say, more firmly. “You were too hard on her, Daryl.”

That gets a reaction. He stands abruptly, his sudden movement sending a jolt of heat between you, the fire casting harsh light across his face. His blue eyes are stormy, full of a fury he’s trying—and failing—to keep under control. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what she’s goin’ through?” His voice rises, cracking like the kindling of the fire near you, “I was the one out there lookin’ for that little girl. Every damn day. I had one job. And look what happened!”

Your brows knit together in empathy as you look at him, but you hold your ground, “We all looked, Daryl.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t enough, was it?” He takes a step closer, his fists clenched, knuckles white.

His voice breaks, the anger crumbling under the weight of something else—something deeper. You watch him, your heart twisting painfully in your chest as you see the raw anguish behind his eyes.

“Daryl—” you start, but he cuts you off, his voice rough and ragged.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His gaze finally meets yours, and it’s burning. “When I saw her like that… that little girl…all I could think about was you. How that could’ve been you .”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you don’t speak. He’s surprised you by the sudden shift in the air. The fact that he wasn’t only upset about Sophia’s fate. The way he’s looking at you, with a mix of fury and fear, roots you to the spot. 

“I’d do anything— anything —to keep that from happening to you.” He steps closer, his voice shaking, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “You think I give a damn how tough you are? What if it was you out there, huh? What if I lost you like that?”

You blink, trying to process the weight of his words, the untamed feelings pouring out of him. “Daryl, I can handle myself,” you say softly, your voice steady even though your heart is racing, “You taught me how. I’m not a little girl anymore, I don’t need—”

“That ain’t it!” he snaps, his frustration boiling over. He takes another step toward you, shortening the distance between you. The firelight flickers wildly in his eyes. “It ain’t about whether you can handle yourself. It’s about me! I can’t—” His voice falters, and he scrubs a hand over his face, turning away from you for a brief moment, as if the admission is too much.

But then he turns back, his voice softer, more broken. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Your chest tightens, your pulse quickening. You’ve never seen him like this, so unrestrained and open. You try to reach for him, but he steps back, shaking his head.

“You don’t get it,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper, but his next words come out in growls, “I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care about anybody else. I don’t care about surviving or fightin’ or any of that shit. I just… I can’t stand the thought of losin’ you again. I’d do anything— anything .”

The words linger in the space between you, his unfinished sentence cutting through the silence, leaving you unable to breathe. You open your mouth to say something, to try and calm him down, but before you can speak, Daryl closes the gap between you in two quick steps. His hand grips your arm—not roughly, but urgently, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

“You don’t know how much I—” His voice breaks, and in one impulsive, desperate movement, he pulls you toward him and crashes his lips against yours.

It’s not a soft kiss. It’s fierce, almost angry, filled with all the pent-up emotions he’s been carrying—fear, frustration, and something deeper. You gasp against his mouth, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into him, your hand coming up to grip the front of his shirt as the fire crackles beside you, casting long shadows over your entwined forms. The smell of him this close is intoxicating, making your head spin. Sweat, dirt, his musk all fill your senses as you pull him into you.

For a moment, everything else fades away. The camp, the walkers, the memory of Sophia—it’s all gone. There’s just the heat of his lips on yours, the rough grip of his hand on your arm, and the wild, unspoken emotions surging between you. It hits you like a wave. The years of memories with him. The way your heart pounds every time he’s near, the way you’ve looked to him, trusted him, more than you’ve ever trusted anyone in your entire life. How cataclysmic it was to lose him during those years apart. You’ve been so focused on surviving, on the chaos around you, that you didn’t notice how much you’ve come to need him—not just as a friend, but as something more. It was always there, just beneath the surface. Now, with the firelight flickering beside you and his words echoing in the stillness, you can’t ignore it any longer. You love him too.

When Daryl finally pulls back, he’s breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes are squeezed shut, as if he can’t bear to face what he just did. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I didn’t mean—”

But you don’t let him finish. You tighten your grip on his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips against his once more, this time slower, gentler, but no less intense. When you part again, you look up at him, your voice soft but steady.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Daryl. I’m right here.”

-----

When morning came, the warmth of the sun filtered through the tent's thin fabric, gently waking you. You blinked your eyes open, groggy but gradually becoming aware of Daryl’s quiet movements. He was already up, dressed in his worn hoodie and angel vest, the faint creak of his crossbow strap as he slung it over his broad shoulders filling the small space.

He glanced at you as he adjusted the weapon, his face unreadable, but his eyes held the familiar edge of purpose. “Gon’ go help ‘em find Rick n’ Hershel,” he muttered in his usual gruff tone, avoiding any unnecessary conversation. “Glenn’s out with ‘em too.”

Still waking up, you sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your limbs felt stiff from the tension of yesterday, but you stood and stretched, groaning softly as you felt the pull in your muscles. “Cool, me too,” you mumbled through a yawn, catching his eye for a brief second before slipping into your boots.

Daryl gave a slight nod, not waiting for further confirmation as he exited the tent, and you quickly followed. It was clear you were going to both be avoiding any discussion about the kiss you had last night. Daryl had never been skilled in the art of conversation— and the amount of raw emotion you had seen in him last night you weren’t going to push for more. But the smile that played on your lips at the memory was long lasting as the camp was buzzing with the preparation to head off to find the three men. You both made your way to the cars, where the group was gathering, loading guns, and checking their ammo in quiet focus.

Suddenly, the sound of tires kicking up dirt in the distance snapped everyone to attention. You turned your head, squinting against the sun as you saw the red van driving up the long dirt driveway. Dust clouds billowed behind the tires, signaling something urgent.

The group stilled, guns paused in mid-motion as everyone’s eyes locked on the approaching vehicle In quiet relief.

As the car speeds past, your stomach twists when you spot a fourth figure in the vehicle. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping Daryl by the elbow and slowing his pace as the rest of the group moves toward the car. “There’s someone in there,” you murmur under your breath, worry creeping into your voice.

Daryl’s eyes narrow, following your gaze. Rick steps out of the driver’s seat, his movements hurried and protective as he wraps an arm around Lori and Carl. Maggie rushes into Glenn’s arms, but something is off—he’s stiff, his arms barely returning her embrace before he pulls away, walking wordlessly toward the house. Hershel makes his way hurriedly to the house. A silent tension surrounds them that sets everyone on edge.

“Who the hell is that?” T-Dog’s voice breaks the uneasy quiet, his finger pointing directly at the car. Everyone’s eyes shift, locking onto the shadowy figure slumped in the backseat. You take a few steps closer, your stomach churning as you take in the details. The man’s dark hair is disheveled, his head lolling to the side as if he hadn’t moved in hours. His jawline is sharp, but most unsettling is the strip of red fabric tied over his eyes. Something about him feels…familiar. The dark brown tousled hair on his head hadn’t been brushed in weeks by the looks of it.

“That’s Randall,” Glenn says quietly, his voice flat.

Rick calls the group inside to discuss the situation, the air filled with anxiety and confusion. You and Daryl settle by the open windows in the dining room, the light breeze playing over the exposed skin of your lower back where your shirt has ridden up. Daryl’s quiet, his eyes focused but distant, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his crossbow.

Shane strides past, his presence as imposing as ever. “Where’d you two go?” he grunts, his eyes flicking between you and Daryl, suspicion lacing his tone as he leans against the opposite wall. You ignore him, not even bothering with a glance, your attention instead shifting to Carol, who’s watching you both from across the room. She offers a small, tentative smile. You return it, your nod subtle but reassuring.

For a brief moment, the tension in the room feels bearable—but then all eyes shift back to Rick, and the weight of Randall’s presence lingers like a ticking time bomb.

The discussion is heated at the table, people demanding answers on what to do with him. The issue of safety is at the forefront, with Rick saying to let his leg heal then take him out and dump him on the road with a canteen. Shane’s voice rings out above everyone’s sure his group will come looking for him. He’s beginning to exit the room when Hershel stops him, anger in his voice as he explains that Rick talked him out of making Shane leave, but he didn’t like it. Most of the conversation is distant to you, thinking about the boy in the car. You couldn’t place where you knew him just yet. Like it was on the tip of your tongue. Randall? Randall. You felt like you knew him from somewhere.

“So do us both a favor,” he concludes, “and keep your mouth shut,”

The tension in the room is palpable, but you can’t help the flicker of amusement that lights in your eyes. You glance sideways at Daryl, catching his gaze for a brief moment. His lips twitch, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes twinkling with shared amusement before he quickly looks back at the group. For that fleeting second, the weight of everything lifts, just enough for the two of you to find humor in the chaos. Shane lets out a long sigh and exits, his hands rubbing the sides of his head as he walks out the front door.

“Look, we’re not gonna do anything about it today, let’s just cool off,” Rick states calmly. The tension in the room begins to disperse almost instantly, though the frustration lingers like a heavy cloud. Carol moves to approach you and Daryl, but before she can say anything, Daryl is already turning on his heel and walking straight out of the room without even acknowledging her. You feel her eyes on you, a silent plea for something more, but you offer her only an apologetic glance before following after him.

As Carol continues to watch after you both, you quicken your pace to catch up with Daryl. Each step you take makes your heart thud harder in your chest, not only because of the weight of the conversation you just overheard but because there’s something else you know you need to do—something you've been dreading for a while.

Breaking away from Daryl’s long strides, you veer off course and make your way toward Rick and Lori’s tent. Every step closer fills you with a nervous energy, each inhale a reminder to stay calm and collected. The tent looms in front of you, the blue-green tarp flapping softly in the breeze as though it’s mocking your hesitation. You stare at it for a moment, your hand almost rising to knock, but instead, you call out quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Rick, you in there?"

The murmurs inside immediately cease. After a beat of silence, you hear the rustling of movement before Rick emerges, swiping the tent flap aside. His expression is calm but guarded.

"Hey, Y/N," he says softly, but before you can respond, Lori appears right behind him, her eyes blazing with a fury you’ve grown all too familiar with.

“What did I tell you about leavin’ my family alone?” she seethes, her voice laced with venom. She steps forward, almost challenging, and for a moment you wonder if she might actually push past Rick.

"Hey, hey," Rick quickly intervenes, his hand lifting to calm her, his voice hushed. He turns to you, his face apologetic but composed. "What do you need?"

Your breath catches, and you can feel Lori’s icy glare searing into you. It takes everything in you not to shrink beneath it. You look between the two of them, mustering up your resolve before speaking.

You take a deep breath, “We need to talk about Shane.”

x flashback x

The car felt like a pressure cooker, the silence between you and Shane on the verge of exploding. His breath came in short, angry bursts as he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The low rumble of the police cruiser was the only sound for miles, but you could feel the tension of what was about to happen pressing in on you. Being in the front seat of the cruiser felt odd—you’d never seen the inside of one before, with all the screens and dials. Between frustrating thoughts, you found yourself studying the buttons around the car, though they didn’t distract you for long.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” he finally said, his voice tight, barely holding back the anger simmering beneath the surface. “I had to find you at that stupid party, reckless and irresponsible. And you were about to leave with some guy, hours after I saw you today.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling the heat rising in your chest. “That’s not what happened, Shane.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, slamming his hands against the wheel. “I saw you. Damn near hanging off him like it was a fucking game. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t ‘hanging off’ anybody,” you snapped back, frustration boiling over. “We’re broken up! You don’t get to be mad about what I do.”

Shane’s eyes flashed with a mix of fury and something darker—something possessive. “The hell we are! You wanna make stupid decisions, fine. But don’t act like I’m supposed to just stand by and watch you throw yourself at the first asshole who gives you attention.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think I’m the one making bad choices? What about the way you’ve been treating me for months, Shane? Maybe I wouldn’t have needed a distraction if you weren’t such a controlling prick.”

His jaw clenched at your words, and the silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. “You’re reckless,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Randy, the party, all of it. You don’t think, you just… do whatever you want. Like you’re untouchable.”

Your blood boiled, hands trembling in your lap as you clenched them into fists. “I’m not reckless, I’m living my life. And Randy? Who cares if I kissed him, I barely knew him! I wasn’t even planning on leaving with him. He just came outside with Dana and me!” you explained, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew you’d made a mistake.

Shane’s eyes snapped to yours, his face hardening as if you’d just confirmed every suspicion. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. “You kissed him?” he asked quietly, his voice deceptively calm—dangerous.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down. “So what? It didn’t mean anything. Why can’t you just let this go?”

His jaw twitched, and you could see the storm building in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, kissing some random guy at a party? Were you trying to piss me off? Is that it?”

You swallowed, the frustration rising again. “No, Shane. I wasn’t trying to piss you off, I needed a distraction. You always feel like you need to keep tabs on me, like you own me or something. Why do you always feel like you have to push people around?”

Shane slammed on the brakes, pulling the cruiser to a sudden stop at the side of the road. The abrupt motion sent you jolting forward, but you caught yourself just in time, heart racing.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, looking at him as the engine idled in the background.

Shane turned to face you, his eyes burning with frustration and something far darker. “You think I’m trying to control you?” he said, his voice low, controlled, but barely. “I’m trying to protect you. You don’t even see what’s happening out there. Shit is changing, and you’re out there throwing yourself at some guy like nothing’s wrong.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his intensity. The anger in him felt different now—deeper, tied to something more than just Randy or the party. “I don’t need you to protect me,” you shot back, your voice steadier than you felt. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Shane.”

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, his breath coming out in sharp bursts. “That’s not what this is. You don’t get it. I don't know what's goin on, but shit is fallin' apart overseas and it's only so long before it hits here. You need someone looking out for you. And you’re just making it harder for me to do that.”

“I don’t need you watching over me every second,” you said, your voice rising. “You’re suffocating me, Shane. Why do you always feel like you have to control every damn thing in my life?”

The silence that followed was deafening, but it was charged with something heavy and raw. Shane stared at you, the tension between you thick as it filled the cramped space of the cruiser. Then, suddenly, he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you across the console into his lap.

His lips crashed into yours, pulling you down into him with a tight, strong embrace. It was filled with anger, frustration, possessiveness—the things you’d been fighting against for so long. His grip on you was unwavering and strong, his hands near bruising as they dug into your waist, like he was trying to claim you, to pull you back under his control. 

As you pulled back, breathless, your eyes locked onto his, searching for something—anything—soft, something gentle. But all you saw was fire. His gaze burned with need, with lust, intense and all-consuming, but there was no love. No tenderness. Only the raw desire to have you, to keep you.

His hand slid up your back, fingers curling in your hair as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough but quieter now, almost tender in the way he said it, like he was convincing himself as much as you. “You’ll always be mine.”

[sunflowerrosewood]

First Thoughts of You ~ Stardew Valley Bachelors

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

These are their first thoughts when they met you and when they began to fall for you...

~~~

Alex

"So this is the new farmer that Pierre was talking about moving in. They seem to be cool They have already began farming and introducing themselves. Wonder if they would like to play?"

🩷

"They keep coming by to visit. They ask how I am doing and I can see them leveling up. They have such a bright smile. They are very kind to Grandma and Grandpa. I wonder if they would want to progress into something further? I would love to be by their side."

Sebastian

"This is the new farmer? Why are they talking to me? They seem cool I guess. Mom talks about expanding their farm now that they have moved in. I wonder how they will hold up?"

🩷

"There's Y/n. I wonder what they are up to today. They are coming over here? They always have a frozen tear for me. It's nice they bring me it. I love talking to them and getting to know them. They are so sweet. I want to progress things with them."

Harvey

"The new farmer came by to introduce themselves. I introduced myself as the doctor and they seemed happy to know where I was. They asked how long I had been here and I told them. They seem rather happy. I hope I don't see them too often at the clinic."

🩷

"The farmer got injured and came by for an energy tonic. They brought me a coffee. I hate seeing them injured. They always are here with a smile on their face. I would rather be the reason they are smiling not the reason they need to be healed."

Shane

"Who is talking to me? Some farmer looking person. I need to get to work. They are probably the new farmer the town has been talking about. Probably a good thing they stay away from me."

🩷

"The farmer continues to come and talk to me. They bring me pizza to share at the bar and they talk about their latest adventure in the mines. They love to talk to me. I find myself smiling when I talk to them. They really do see me. I wonder what could happen between us?"

Sam

"This is so cool! We have a new farmer here. They seem really cheerful and excited. They were introducing themselves to everyone and ran into me. I think they'll be awesome here."

🩷

"I find myself thinking about the new farmer. I find it so neat how they talk with everyone. I did notice they take time to see me daily. They like to talk with me about music and what the band is up to. My heart flutters when I hear them call my name out and rush up to me. I want to see us together."

Elliott

"The new farmer came by today. I was out on the beach looking out and they were walking by. They began to pick up shells and noticed me. They introduced themselves and they seemed cheerful. I think they will do great here."

🩷

"I find myself waiting for the farmer again. I wanted to talk to them about my story idea. They are always eager to hear me out. I love seeing their smile and hearing their excitement. I know I will always have their support. Where was I without them?"

[junicult]

the bachelors and their thoughts on tattoos and piercings?? and if they have any/want any

!! the bachelors & tattoos / piercings

contains ; talk of piercings / tattoos. farmer has piercings tattoos (not specified). sfw. one minor nsfw comment in shanes (i seriously can’t help myself).

note ; i made this super quickly in literally like 10 mins😭

harvey

- he doesn’t have either.

- and he doesn’t plan on ever getting them.

- i don’t think he necessarily hates them, (on other people at least) but it’s not something he personally seeks out. like, if you just so happen to have tattoos or piercings, he doesn’t care.

- …he might be the type that doesn’t really like extensive amounts of facial piercings, tho.

- at least, if he met you and you already had those piercings, he might not want to seek a further relationship.

- if you’re already together, and extremely committed, you wanting piercings or tattoos wouldn’t change how he loves you.

- if he did have any piercings, they’d probably just be his ears. but i can’t even picture him getting any.

sam.

- LMFAO i just know he’s the person that doesn’t have any tattoos, but he constantly talks about all the tattoo’s he wants to get. (me)

- piercings, however, are a different story🤭

- he started off simple by getting his earlobe pierced for sure. definitely thought it was very “rockstar” to have.

- overtime he got a few more, (all of which taken place in sebastian’s basement), such as an upper lobe & orbital.

- and he definitely has an industrial. ik it.

- it’s probably healed too which is crazy.

- also, i think it’d be cute for him to just have a dainty little hoop on his nostril.

- when it comes to his partner, he couldn’t care less if they have any piercings / tattoos or not.

- butttt he thinks they’re so attractive. piercings especially.

- lip piercings if we’re being even more specific. ik that if u had snake bites, or an ashley piercing…phew.

- it just gives him an excuse to stare at ur lips lol.

- i feel like he would want to have his nipples pierced, but he’d never go through with it.

- same reason why he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- in general, because he skateboards and stuff, i feel like he’s immune to scratches and scrapes.

- he was also definitely the kind of kid that always had his arm in a cast or something.

- but i’ll still die on this hill: he has a low pain tolerance.

- sebastian can attest to it.

- mf is constantly squirming each time the needle even approaches his skin.

shane.

- he’s more of a tattoo kind of person then piercings.

- is it safe to say i think the majority of his are from when he was drunk😭?

- his pain tolerance is fairly high. he’s got a couple tattoo’s, that’s for sure.

- one on his arm of something gridball related to reminisce back on those days, and one on his back or maybe chest.

- of what? he doesn’t even know.

- as for piercings, definitely his regular & upper earlobes. he never changes the jewelry, it’ll always be that.

- i feel like he also has a daith just bc he heard it helps w migraines 😭

- but he is totally attracted to piercings.

- have any kind of facial piercings you want, he doesn’t care.

- but he’s an absolute sucker for body piercings, whether you have them or not.

- if u have ur belly button pierced, or even…u know…ur nipples dare i say; lord😭😭

- if ur dating, believe me he’s not ignoring those.

- when he sees u naked for the first time, or for the first time after u got those pierced—he’d be such a little asshole.

- “oh, these are nice.” he just raises his eyebrows, smirking down. “they healed?”

- if they are then…well. you already know.

- also he’s a sucker for a tramp stamp😭

- those were so popular in the 90s ik he’d lose his mind if u had one.

sebastian.

- pelican town’s unofficial piercer.

- lord.

- aside from multiple stick and pokes when he was in his teens, he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- they’re all definitely of things he looks back on and physically cringes. he doesn’t even tell people he has them, (besides sam & abby who were around when he was in that phase)

- the only reason you’d find out about them is if you saw them and asked him about it.

- as for piercings, he’s decked out.

- i’m talking lobes, orbital, helix, industrial, daith, conch. his ears are HEAVY.

- his eyebrow, nose, and lip is pierced too.

- his eyebrow might be one of his favs, and i also wholeheartedly believe that was his first ever piercing on himself when he was like 16. he stuck with it since.

- he also just has a nostril hoop. it’s black ofc.

- and…his lip piercing…

- a vertical labret 🤭🤭🤭.

- & u can disagree with me on this, but i’d like to think all of his piercings are properly cared for, cleaned, and healed. he’s not wasting any time caring for an infection.

- i also wanna say he has a few that he’s taken out as he’s gotten older.

- like his bridge piercing. he had it for a couple years before he decided to take it out, so he has a little scar there.

- i feel like abby has snake bites, which convinced him to get snake bites at one point. but when he got his labret, he took those out.

- lastly, i definitely think he had a septum at one point, but pretty quickly he realized it just didn’t suit him so he took it out.

- as for his partner, if you had any piercings—he doesn’t care. why would he?

- he’s incredibly impartial. whether you have them or don’t.

- but let me tell you…if you don’t have any, he’ll gladly change that if you ever asked😇😇

alex.

- he has none.

- zilch. zero.

- he’s not the biggest fan of a ton of piercings. unfortunately i feel like he was raised in that kind of household, so he was conditioned to feel the same way (we’ve all met george).

- like, if you have ur ears pierced or maybe one little face piercing, i don’t think he’d mind that much.

- it definitely depends on how much he likes you.

- if he met you while you had face piercings, he’d probably judge you by cover.

- but if you slowly got them after you’ve been dating a while, i feel like that’s when he’s realize how attractive they can be.

- if you got your lip pierced, and he got to see how plump your lips get from swelling—that might drive him crazy.

- everytime he leans in for a kiss you’d have to pull away, tutting, “ah-ah, no kissing.”

- it’s like ur torturing him.

- and if you ever convinced him to get a piercing, he’d only allow his ears.

- for tattoos, i think it’d be so sweet to imagine him wanting one that linked to his mom.

- like something she’s said before, a nickname she gave him, maybe even if she had a tattoo he’d get the same one.

- because he’s not that emotionally available, he never told anyone.

- not until u asked, and since he’s trusts you more then anyone, he doesn’t mind being vulnerable to you.

elliot.

- he has both.

- but his are just so beautiful that you’d literally see them on pinterest, y’know?

- he’s so tasteful with his piercings and tattoos.

- he’s a patchwork fan. like small separate tattoos on his arms and torso.

- each of which have meaning to him in someway.

- and his piercings are soo small and dainty. (GOLD TOO. he’s strictly gold.)

- he has a little stud on his nostril, and his ears are similar to sebastian’s.

- but he’s much more organized then anyone else. his piercings all took place over time, and they’re all matched. he’s a strict gold jewelry person.

- it just makes him look so clean and put together.

- when it comes to you, he in general doesn’t care whether you have them or not.

- physical attraction isn’t the biggest deal to him. so what if you do / don’t have piercings.

- but he can definitely appreciate if you’re just as dedicated to your jewelry / tattoos as he is.

[mysticmikalla]

I don't know if you take any kind of requests but if you feel like it could you maybe write about how you think the bachelors would react to you asking them to marry you? 🥹

I am always honored to take requests!! Thank you for being my first, I hope I do it justice!

**

The Stardew Valley bachelors’ reactions to being proposed to

**

Harvey

Harvey did not know what to do with himself at first. Did he gently accept the deep blue, shiny pendant from your hands and hang it around his neck? Or should he pull you in for a kiss instead, breaking apart only so he could attempt to express how much he loved you? ... Or perhaps just a simple yes, with excited promises about the future? Or maybe all of the above, in that order?

He didn’t do any of those. Instead, he stepped closer to you until he was close enough to engulf you in a hug, a little tighter than normal, hiding a silent tear that he could not help but shed while softly murmuring his answer against your hair.

Shane

He would’ve never guessed that the farmer that took up that old farm would be lying in bed next to him, gazing up at him with such a look in your eyes that made him feel like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And as unfamiliar as that feeling was, Shane felt it. He mattered, and it you had just made it clear wasn't temporary. He did feel a little afraid, however, of what came after - the moving in together, the possibility of kids, of sickness and health, and he did not want to disappoint you. But that, he decided, was a worry for the future. So for now, he wasn’t going to let you down. He took your face in his hands and smashed your lips together, taking advantage of the fact that you were already in bed and barely clothed to show you how much he meant his yes.

Sam

He already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Sam just... took things one day at a time. He was never one to look too far into the future. So when he was playing with your fingers, absentmindedly while he went on one of his tangents instead of finishing a story he was telling you, you pulled the pendant out and set it on his lap, waiting to see how long it would take for him to notice it. And it look a while - so long that you couldn’t contain yourself, and nodding down to his lap, you said, “Sam, look.”

He stopped talking to follow your gaze, and resting on his lap was your promise to spend the rest of your life with him, if he'd have you. He stood up, pendant in hand, prompting you to do the same, “Is this…? Actually?!” Then he would pepper your face with kisses, “Do I even have to say it? Yes, yes, yes.”

Sebastian

He had never kissed you quite as passionately as he did then. When you were straddling him, a make out session well underway under the cover of the dim lights in his room, his hands on your back, under your shirt, and your hands tangled in his hair, out of breath… The feeling had consumed you then, and as good as kissing him felt, you pulled away for a moment, and as easy as if you had already said it, you murmured, “Marry me?”

Sebastian never thought he cared much for marriage, but he longed for this. To be your only one, to be the one someone finally chose. And that’s when he kissed you again. He nodded wordlessly, pulling your head back in to meet him again, intensely, deeper than before, as if he wanted you to taste his answer on his lips.

Elliot

At that point in your relationship, Elliot had already purchased the pendant. He had been sure of this for a while now, only waiting for the right time to ask you the most important and yet the easiest question of his life. He never imagined that you dreamed the same - as when he took you for your usual walks along the shores, admiring the golden glaze of the setting sun over the sand, you also had an item most precious in your pocket.

At first, when he looked at you, he thought it was a reflection of his own feelings in your eyes. And then his own fell to your hands, where they stretched out a beautiful blue pendant. Elliot never thought he’d be rendered speechless at a moment like this. All he could do was reach for his own pendant and place it on top of yours, and then finally he would say, “In any and all lifetimes, I’ll say yes.”

Alex

Because he was raised a certain way, Alex always expected he was going to be the one to propose. The excitement of buying a pendant and hiding it from you, the planning out a date that was romantic but not-so-romantic that you’d suspect it, the getting down on one knee and asking you to make him the luckiest man alive… It was corny, he knew, but that’s how he saw it happening.

And maybe you two were too alike, because you were the one to buy the pendant, the one who planned the date and the one who got down on one knee. He was genuinely shocked when he saw you, “Are you serious?” Was the first thing he managed to say before joining you on his knees to look you in the eye, “Are you actually… are you serious? I was going to… I mean, yes, but that was my line!”

[sinsandsweetness]

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

-

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld

taglist form is in my pinned post- let me know if I’m missing you<3

[rj-coward]

Watcher Rant

I know I literally never post on here, but I wanted to talk about how stupid the new Watcher announcement is, as someone who pays $6 a week for Dropout. Every week, Dropout releases about 5 episodes a week. Watcher releases one. I end up watching about 3+ hours a week of NEW content on dropout (D20, Adventuring party, game changer, etc.) Considering moving to a sub-model will be a huge hurdle already, there’s no way Watcher is, off the bat, going to start making more content. Most big streaming services aren’t even making a profit yet. It’ll probably be months, if not years before Watcher does (if they even last long enough). 

Another thing is that Shane and Ryan are really Youtube Guys. I don’t think they realize this? They don’t need big budget shows. Mystery Files is probably my favorite show of theirs and it seems to be pretty low budget. People watch them because of their personalities. Most of their shows DON’T need to be ‘high budget.’ I think the Try Guys are pretty good about this. They’re still pretty down to earth. Most of their videos aren’t extremely high budget, from what I can tell. They still rely on their big personalities and occasionally, risky, but unique ideas. 

I know this definitely isn’t the thing Watcher wants to hear, but they SIMPLY NEED to DOWNSIZE. (Or at least reconsider their budget/business model) It’s sad to say, but it’s kind of hard to watch them act like they’re going to become something bigger than Youtube, when their content is BUILT for youtube. I don’t think they’re ever going to realize this though. I love Ryan and Shane, they’re amazing comedians and a wonderful duo, but no one on their team seems to know how to properly run this business. 

Lastly, and most awkwardly, what the hell is Steven Lim doing? I don’t watch any of his shows, but I guess he’s the CEO, and that means he has to shoulder most of the backlash for this decision. I would be less critical of him, but I guess he literally bragged about owning a Tesla? This is a really strange business decision, dude. 

Also, it’s super funny in retrospect that now they’re gaslighting us about saying they were going to take all of their old content off of youtube and then immediately backtracking. 

[hannahssimblr]

The day I leave the beach feels like the last chapter of a book. I awake that Wednesday to change. The sky, which held steady and cerulean all summer, perfect, porcelain, is a mottled grey as clouds roll in over the beach. I swim, early in the morning, in a sea that is choppier than before, the waves crashing over the rocks and tossing foam into the air, and over the shore now slimy with seaweed.  

I spot Liam in his wetsuit, board in hand, and I wave. He waves back, and I have the striking realisation that this may be the last time I ever see him.

I say goodbye to Joe and Kasper at the door that morning, their PlayStation games and the half-filled bags of Doritos they never finished bundled under their arms. 

“Good luck with it all,” says Joe. “We’ll see you around.” It’s a thing you say to a person when you’re not sure you will, and as I watch them go from the window, there’s a finality to it. It’s like I’m watching them leave, not just with their games and their snacks, but with a phase of my life, too. We’ll never be together in the same way, and never be these exact versions of ourselves again. 

Shane is the next to go. After a thorough clean of the bedroom, the sheets washed and dried and put back on the bed, ready for next summer. He drops a hand onto my shoulder. 

“Good luck in Germany, yeah? Maybe I’ll come and visit.”

“You should.”

“Yeah, I might.”

“If you do, I’ll see you there.”

He nods and ducks through the door, and to his back, I shout “Good luck in college!” He lifts a thumbs up into the air, and he’s gone. 

And then there is Jen. With a click of her last suitcase, she has packed up, and in the empty house, there’s nothing to distract us anymore from the new, yet ever present rift between us. 

We’ve barely spoken since the festival. I haven’t known how to, despite her pleads, and made a big deal of getting Kasper to sit in the passenger seat during the ride home. I asked him all kinds of questions about himself, realising only then, to my immense guilt, that it was the only bit of effort I had made with him all summer. 

I spent the days between then and now away from the house. Swimming, cycling, driving into town and just looking around, reading a book while the last of the summer tourists milled about, still in their flip-flops and sun hats as though they hadn’t noticed that autumn had already taken up residence in the shadows. 

I’d come home before dark and stay in my room while the others watched their movies and played their games. One night, I heard Jen crying softly in bed. I didn’t ask her if she was okay. 

Now, once again, I avoid her as she sits on the floor surrounded by her bags, by arranging a stack of books on the shelf. One of my sketchbooks is there, complete with a thousand drawings of the summer. I leave it where it is.  

A clock ticks somewhere in the room. 

“I’m sorry you’re so mad at me,” Jen says to the back of my head. 

“Same.”

“I still think you should give me a chance to explain myself.”

I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay. Have you seen her? Have you talked to Evie?”

“No, I haven’t.”

I turn around to see her hugging her knees to her chest. She looks remarkably small like that, and her hair, which was so bright in June, has faded with the salt water and the sun, and now her brown roots are showing. 

“I think I’d like to get the bus home.” She mutters.

“That’s alright. Do you want a lift to the station?”

“No thanks, I’ll just walk.” 

I don’t argue, and before that hour is out, she, too, is gone, and I am the last man standing. 

Turn off all the lights, switches and the hot water. Store the garden furniture. Leave the fridge running. Double check ALL doors and windows are locked. 

This is all contained in a cheerful email from my father, followed by a paranoid diatribe about all the catastrophic things that will happen to the house if I fail to comply. There’s something about a potential flood or explosion in there, I think, but I barely skimmed the bulk of it.  

Thanks for the essay lmao.

I write back.

Be home at 2.

I do my last check of the house, then stand by the door for several minutes just looking at it. The kitchen, once a hub of activity with friends chatting over breakfast and a sink full of dirty dishes, is now deserted, immaculate, and quiet. I realise I hate endings. I do not want to dwell on things anymore, or be sentimental, or hang on to the past. 

I lock the door behind me and get into my car without another look back.

Beginning // Prev // Next