#walker's plan is still going forward

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 18

Welcome to another WIP Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1 AO3 Link

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

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From the radio station, the four traveled to the television studio for their next interview. The host had listened to their radio interview and helped summarize much of the information before asking further questions.

Tim and his teammates called into question the biases of the Drs Fenton and hoped their criticisms would bring others to think twice before taking their word as gospel.

When they were finally done, it was almost nine.

Tim shot off a quick text to Bruce for his morning check-in. He noticed Conner texting someone, too. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked.

“Sam. She says Danny’s still passed out. But her parents are talking about some sort of press release the mayor is planning on putting on at City Hall at ten.”

Cassie groaned. “Ugh, more reporters. Please say we don’t have to go.”

“We should,” said Tim. “But we can go in civvies.”

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” asked Bart. “It’s been hours since we woke up!”

“Yeah,” agreed Cassie. “I’m starving. Let’s get some food. I think I saw a diner when we flew to our second interview.”

Before Tim could consider protesting, Conner had him secure in his arms and TTK and they were in the air.

“Lead the way, Wonder Girl.”

Tim scowled to hide his smile. “Oh sure, don’t listen to your leader. Just do whatever.”

“You’d let us starve?” wailed Connor. “Then we’ll stage a mutiny!”

Cassie laughed. “Yeah, see how long you remain in charge of a hangry speedster, half-kryptonian, and demigoddess.”

Tim grinned. “Oh, but you forget I know you all very well. I can win you back to my side. Starting with Kon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” demanded Conner.

“Easy. I’ll just bribe you with Alfred’s cookies and a great movie. If I add in a dash of ‘I need your help’ and my puppy dog eyes and you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“That’s another square on my bingo card!” called back Cassie. “And look, we’re here!” She pointed down to a quintessential American diner with green glass windows.

The group met Bart a block away in an alley where they shed their gear.

“I’ll tell Sam what we’re up to.” Conner pulled out his phone to send the message.

“Quit wasting time! We’re on a deadline,” moaned Bart as he positioned himself behind Conner and tried to push him towards the street and breakfast.

Conner laughed and refused to budge, so Tim figured a demonstration of his power was in order.

He got in front of Conner and pouted at him. “I know I was joking about not allowing breakfast, but I’m the one who didn’t eat before the interviews. An omelet is calling my name.”

Conner groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck you, Rob.” But he stalked forward out of the alley.

Tim and Bart exchanged grins.

“Seriously, Tim,” said Cassie. “This trip has been great for my bingo card.”

Tim stuck his tongue out at her and jogged to catch up with Conner.

Breakfast was simple but tasty and they devoured far too much food. Their waitress was clearly impressed with her first exposure to a speedsters appetite. Add in a super and a demigoddess and it was obscene.

All too soon, however, it was time to go to the mayor’s press conference. As they made their way there, they joined a growing crowd. Clearly many people were interested in whatever the mayor had planned.

In the crowd, he could hear comments about their interviews. It seems both had been posted online and already had thousands of views. Some people seemed to be sympathetic to them, but others were mistrustful of the “outsiders.”

“If they’re such good friends, why did it take so long for them to come here?” asked one man of his friend.

“I’ve a cousin in Central City. She says trouble always follows a superhero,” said another.

Tim exchanged a look with Conner. He’d be able to hear more conversations and could share his perceptions later.

Before long, they were entering City Hall. Already the seats were full, so they were forced to stand in the back. Jack and Maddie were sitting near the front. Jeremy and Pamela Manson sat on the opposite side of the room as them, but also were near the front of the room.

Tim exchanged looks with his teammates to make sure they saw both couples. Conner was glaring at Maddie and Jack.

“They’re complaining about our interviews,” said Conner. “Throwing around guesses that we are either possessed or have already been brainwashed by the ghosts.”

“At least we know they aren’t observant. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

Mayor Montez stepped up to the podium and everyone fell silent. “People of Amity Park, we have been faced with a threat the likes of which we’ve never before seen! And based on the events of this morning, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to rely on outside help to get us out of it.”

A stone sunk in Tim’s stomach and he exchanged looks with his friends.

“We only have one piece of business today: Defeating the ghosts that infest our town. And to do that, I'm calling for a vote to cede all ghost policing and security decisions”—he held up a photo of Maddie—“to Maddie Fenton.” As Tim watched, however, the mayor’s eyes glowed red and he winced. “I mean Jack,” he corrected, holding up a new picture of Jack Fenton. “The completely competent Jack Fenton.”

“He’s overshadowed,” breathed Conner.

Tim nodded and was already sending a message to Sam, Tucker, and Danny. “And who knows who else.”

Before they could say anything else, the mayor continued, “And we’ve located the ghost responsible for all the terror inflicted on our town.” He held up a picture of Phantom. “Whatever some outsiders may have tried to lie to you about this very morning.”

A gasp rang out among the crowd. Tim glanced at his friends. Conner was glaring at the mayor fiercely and Tim attempted to step in front of him, as pointless as their relative sizes made the action.

The mayor smiled viciously as a panicked crescendo rose from the crowd. Tim’s phone vibrated in his hand and he saw a response from Sam.

Sam: We saw Sam: Danny is on his way Sam: And we’re following as fast we can

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Conner, you and Bart should go suit up. Cassie and I will stay and keep an eye on what’s going on. Stay close, but try not to be seen unless an attack happens.” Subtly, grateful for their places against the wall, he passed over the thermos he’d taken with him that morning.

Tim heard Conner’s sigh of relief as the two slipped away. He hated pretending to be a civilian in a crisis. Even more than the rest of them.

Cassie whispered, “I almost hate you for keeping me here.”

Tim just bumped their shoulders together.

The mayor, or rather the ghost inhabiting him, raised his arm and silence slowly fell. “We cannot call for outside help. Those who call themselves the Young Justice today proved that the so-called heroes of this world will defend our enemy over us. That they will spread lies to keep us subject to the whims of these ghosts.” The last word was spat. “So we must solve the problem ourselves. Jack Fenton, if the people of this town agree, you and those you train will be our defense force, will you do this?”

Jack near jumped three feet in the air in his excitement. “I’ve been training for this my entire life, Mayor Montez! I’ll be honored.”

“I believe we must institute martial law! The 9 PM curfew will remain in place. No one will be allowed on the streets alone. No loitering. The park will be closed until further notice. Same with the public pool and library and a number of other locations. Drs Fenton, will you be able to set up buildings protected by ghost shields where people can gather for safety?”

Whispering broke out among the public. Maddie stood tall next to her husband, though being continually overlooked in favor of him was clearly grating on her. “We can. Fenton Works is already protected and within two days we can have another shield up and ready. Within the week, we could have five.”

The whispered were almost loud enough to drown her out by the time she finished speaking

“Order! Order!” called Mayor Montez. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say—”

But cutting off the mayor, Danny, in his Phantom form, suddenly appeared in the air in the middle of the hall. “I might be too young to vote, but I’m casting one anyway.”

Around them, everyone gasped and people began backing away even as Danny shifted to look at them. Tim and Cassie both tensed and prepared to run.

“You people have to listen to me,” urged Danny. “I’m on your side.”

Mayor Montez took a step back as members of his security moved to stand in front of him. Jack and Maddie jumped up and glared at him.

“You’re not fooling anybody, ghost kid!” declared Jack. “You are going down!” He reached back and pulled out the Fenton fishing rod, the line was horribly tangled and Jack began messing with it. “As soon as I finish untangling this thing.”

Cassie let out a disbelieving huff.

Tim shook his head. “Apparently,” he replied to her unasked question. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Bart and Conner.

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

----

Next

And so the best of intentions go awry!

I can almost taste the end of this arc, but for all I know, that'll take another 10k to finish. So we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed.

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[scudslut]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

stay with me

daryl x fem!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/ptsd

a/n: absolutely love me some good fluffy angst, thank u nony❤️ i hope you like it:))

As much as you tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable situations runs would put you in, the blood-chilling reality of it never got any easier. No amount of mental prep could stove off the sounds and smell of the dead, nipping ravenously for a taste of your sweet living flesh.

Of course, over time you’d learned just to shut your brain off and fight. Fight as hard and tirelessly as you possibly could, but mistakes could still be made. Shit happened, whether it was your fault or not.

Hours earlier, a group of you went a few miles east of the prison; Daryl having spotted a little strip a few days prior, not too overrun that he thought might be loot-worthy.

It was a simple run really. Keep close, hit a few shops in and out, then head back home. That’s it. Follow the plan, get as much useful shit as possible, and get the fuck out of there. You guys had it down to a science at this point, runs becoming so second nature it was almost too easy to let your guard down nowadays.

“Hey D, I’m gonna go check the storage room back here. Might have something we could use,” you voiced to your partner a few isles down, still keeping your tone as low as you could.

“Gimme a sec, I'll come help ya,” you heard him say but you kept moving. You two had already cleared the main area, you could handle a walker or two if there actually was any behind the small door. You figured you would’ve heard something by now, some sort of banging or grumbling to announce their presence, but there was nothing, the coast presumably clear.

You should have waited.

Crossing the few miscellaneous isles you reached the back door, giving it a small rattle. Still complete silence, not even the faintest groan or shuffle. Knife at the ready, hand clamped over the cool metal handle, your heart rate picked up a notch as it always did before opening into the unknown.

“You got this, come on,” you muttered to yourself, before throwing the door open, bracing for attack. The door flew wide, only to reveal a dark, empty room. Squinting through the dimness, a few high, dusty shelves were visible, stocked with all sorts of canned goods. Fuck yea, that was certainly useful.

“D! Come look what I found!” you rasped, dropping your knife into its holster and shuffling in. You unslung your backpack from your shoulders, digging through it for a flashlight excitedly. It’s been so long since you’ve found this much canned food, surely enough to keep the group well stocked through most of the winter that was approaching. A loud creak from the left caught your attention as you sped forward. Hands finally finding purchase on the flashlight, you flicked it on, scanning across the room to the sound.

Dust caked the air, making the already dark room fuzzier and your eyes took a minute to adjust. You took a few smaller steps closer, peering wearily ahead and then you saw them.

Beady, soulless eyes staring back. A whole rickety staircase of them, heads turning one by one to the light source in your hand.

“Oh fuck.”

There had to be at least 10 of them that you could see, the top of the stairs pitch black and unrevealing.

Your feet stumbled backward, hands desperately reaching for the knife at your hip, dropping the flashlight in the process. It rolled and caught under your heels, knocking you on your ass as the corpses advanced, jaws snapping.

These were those moments. When you felt your heart in your throat, brain stuttering on action. Time moved so slowly that the fragments were almost visible and every thought screaming in your mind sounded like gibberish. You know you should move, is that what it was screaming?

The first one got to you, grabbing your leg trying to crawl up and finally, you were kicking, scrambling, grabbing onto the knife and slamming it into its skull with a loud squelch.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You needed him. Now.

3 more dropped before you, slinking towards you and you were trapped — the first corpse lying heavily over your midsection.

“Yea, yea girl. I heard ya,” you heard him respond, still sounding a few isles away.

No no no, this was not how you were gonna die. Not today. Please.

You kept stabbing, each kill taking everything out of you as you struggled against the body weight atop you. They just kept piling, you could hardly feel your legs anymore, the circulation surely cut off below your knees. And more were coming, a never-ending stream of hunger.

Another one landed before you and you had just enough time to catch its shoulders before it was inches away, snapping at your neck. Your arms burned, tears welling in your eyes as you realized this could be it. You didn’t know how much longer you had before they gave out and rotting teeth would be sinking into you, tearing you apart.

The walker kept snapping, so close you could see the layers of rotting flesh peeling from its face. You had been close to walkers before, had stared into the lifeless eyes too many times to count, but this was different. More were coming and the face in the reflection of its eyes was barely recognizable — terror painting every feature you’d known on you distorted.

The bones cracked in its left shoulder and it dislocated, dropping down to centimeters from your skin.

“No,” you sobbed quietly. Daryl wasn’t going to make it, you knew that. He was going to walk in and find his girl as dinner. You hoped he just booked it, and didn’t waste his time trying to save what would long be gone.

The walker fell limp in your arms and you flinched harshly, expecting excruciating pain to follow as it bit. But there was nothing.

“The fuck are ya doing! Get up!”

Daryl was suddenly right before you, ripping each body off your aching limbs and you were now acutely aware of the larger pile by the stairs, all with arrows and stab wounds littering their heads. When had he gotten in here?

You didn’t hear his words, adrenaline coursing so loudly through your system that all that could be heard was a loud, shrill ringing.

“Goddammit girl, wake the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders in an attempt to lift you. Your brain caught up then, as he harshly placed you on your feet. Walkers scattered the floor around you, and a grumble at the stairs announced it wasn’t the last of them.

Daryl reached down, grabbed your dropped items, and shoved them in your dumbstruck hands. “We’re gettin’ outta here, now,” he seethed, dragging you along and slamming the door behind you both, crossing the lines of isles quickly to the front entrance.

The fresh, afternoon air hit your nose in a gust and the last of the fuzz chipped itself from your senses slowly.

“Hope yer fuckin happy with yerself. Can’t ever listen to a goddamn word’a mine, can ya?” Daryl quipped beside you. His eyes were slits as they dug into you, so fuming you could see the heat radiating off his skin in the early autumn brisk.

He was angry at you, you knew that. But you also knew it was because he was scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified to stone back there, but if you wanted to calm him down at all, you knew you had to act unfazed.

Gathering any remaining wits about you, you took a deep inhale, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting them.”

He didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at you anymore as he began to pace the graveled parking lot.

“Hey don’t stress Dar. I’m alive, we’re good,” you attempted to soothe further.

“Don’t stress? Yer a real piece a work, y’know that! Always fucking up everyone’s shit cause ya don’t wanna use yer brain, huh?”

Well, that did not go as you expected.

The rest of the group had started shuffling out of the other shops around you, making their way to the vehicles.

“Jeez, you need to lighten up,” you brushed past him, head high. You couldn’t let his words affect you, not with all the other emotions coursing as well. You didn’t understand what he meant. You had never put anyone other than yourself in danger, how could you possibly be fucking over everyone else?

You decided to wait in the car as the rest of the group went back for the cans, tag-teaming whatever walkers remained. The loot had decently filled both trunks and everyone was happy to call it a day and head back.

Your eyes followed Daryl as he jumped into your car, eyes trained on the windshield, “Ya alright at least?” he muttered glancing at you briefly while shifting the car into drive.

“I’m good, you big grump,” you huffed with a tight-lipped smile. “That much food will last us a long time. I believe a thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

You were not good. Not at all, but there was no reason to worry him anymore, putting him through enough today as it was. Your hands were shoved tightly under your thighs, so he couldn’t see the tremors racking through you.

You had smelt death so many times it didn’t bother you much anymore. Today you had smelt your own. Saw your life in that walker's eyes, mere seconds away from demolition. It was safe to say you were shaken to your core.

The journey back was silent, both not in the mood to chat for very different reasons, and the whole time you were trying to keep each breath of yours steady.

You helped unload as much as you could, before slipping away discreetly to your cell. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you felt kind of pathetic honestly. This was life now, it had been this way for a long time now, you shouldn’t be so shaken up as you were but the terror just wouldn’t leave your body.

Panic washed over you once again as your eyes hit your dim cell. Your mind was quickly slipping back into those last moments, the darkness and dust all too similar. The fear you had felt coating your veins icily and your breaths started to become agitated. There was nowhere else to go though. If you left the cell someone would see you.

Subconsciously, you backed yourself into the corner of the room, crumbling down to the floor with your head in your hands. Deep down you hoped your hyperventilating would knock you out. You didn’t want to think anymore — see it anymore. Tears were burning the back of your throat as you held down sobs, feeling the walker's hands and weight atop of you all again.

A small yelp escaped you when the hands became real. Pressure on your shoulders and waist and your head snapped up from its hiding spot, reflexes already prepared to fight whatever presence was with you.

“It’s jus’ me, hey, hey,” you heard through your panic, his blue eyes just recognizable through blurry tears. “S’okay, relax.”

You couldn’t calm down this time, vicious sobs finally breaking their way out of your frame. Running was your first thought; you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, Daryl or not. Emotions were never a strong suit of yours and would always find yourself dealing with them in private, away from sympathetic words and pitying eyes. But Daryl was never like that, he drew you in and held you tight, uttering no more words other than the ones to confirm it was him. If you asked him to say more, he would, but he knew this was what you needed. Someone to ground you back onto Earth and out of whatever images tormented your head.

So that’s what he did. Held you for hours as your body expelled all its terror and lingering adrenaline. He’d give quiet coos through each wave of shakes, grabbing a blanket to warm you through the cold sweats. And finally, once the fear faded to exhaustion, he scooped you up off the stiff concrete and into your soft cot.

“Stay with me?” you rasped, throat parched and raw from crying.

It wasn’t a second thought for him. He was never truly angry with you, and he knew you knew that. He needed you safe with him.

“Always.”

[lit3rallyll0yd]

dating the ninja: series (headcanons) | lloyd garmadon , jay walker x reader<3 ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

a/n: theres a word limit, and i dont have enough space to add all the ninjas in one whole post, so we're doing this in parts of two. hence; series! part one will be lloyd and jay :) also this is mostly my old writing, words may not be spelled correctly.

warnings: none really, more like i cant remember lol

just enjoy (╥﹏╥)

 · It took him so long to consider liking you. He's been through so much, especially after Harumi, he's scared to fall in love again. 

 · But he's been with you, even before Harumi and he knows you're not a bad person. He just has some trust issues her's trying t deal with. 

 · Harumi kinda broke him :/

 · After considering his crush on you, it was Jay and Kai's mission to make him confess to you. Nya was with you on the other end. You told her you liked Lloyd for while and she had the biggest, dorkiest smile on her face as she squealed and hugged you. 

 · When Jay confessed to her, she was speechless, she can only imagine the pain you feel not being able to tell the person you liked them. 

 · Confessing to you was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. He would stammer on his words, make weird Lloyd noises like groans or whines when he messed up on a simple sentence, and his face would be as red as a tomato. 

 · You felt stunned when Lloyd stood in front of you waiting for a response. You would say nothing but give him a hug and said 'I love you too, Lloyd.' and he had tears of joy falling from his eyes.

 · Nya, Kai, and Jay would be in the back hiding, spying on the too. When they say them hug and kiss each other on the lips, Jay jumped out a screamed "LET'S GOO!!" 

 · Durning the relationship, Lloyd would be the sweetest boyfriend even though he has no clue what he's doing. He wants to give you the world, but has no idea how to do that. 

 · He's also not the best with PDA. He's never received much as a kid, so he gets a bit jumpy when someone hugs him by surprise or when he holds someone for a certain amount of time.

 · Comic store dates>>>

 · He has no idea how to plan a date, so he normally asks if you want to go to the comic book store with him and you'll go from there.

 · One time a date ended with you both getting ice cream and taking a walk around the beach docks. Wanting to take a peaceful selfie of you and him and a sudden seagull came and snatched his ice cream right out of his cone, hitting him in the face.

 · You now have a photo of a burry Lloyd losing a fight to a seagull while your in the back scared but laughing at the same time. 

 · You taught Lloyd how to ride a bike. When he was still younger you noticed how little he knew about riding a bike, so when he grew you were able to show him and he got a little bit embarrassed when the guys found out.

 · When you both sleep, Lloyd's normally the first to wake up but he's  g r u m p y !!! 

 · He wakes up because of training and because of that he's kinda forgotten how to sleep in in the mornings. Hence why's he's so tired in the mornings and sometimes afternoons? 

 · He's also nervous to cuddle you while you sleep, but it's cute when they guys catch him snuggling into him like a cat in the mornings. He tends to cuddle into you during your and his sleep, it's so cute to catch. 

 · Did I mention he's a cat person? Lol

 · Run your fingers through his hair, tell him he's worth it, just make him feel proud of himself and he'll be wrapped around your finger just like that.

 · He's willing to do anything for you, do the same for him!

 · Non-stop kisses. Whenever he sees you you better be ready to be bombarded by kisses to the lips, cheeks, nose, and even forehead from the Lightning Ninja!

 · He likes to sneak up behind you and give you surprise kisses on the cheek. He loves seeing the way you jump forward when he scares you and when he sees that blush that forms on your face? He's gonna 'awe' at it and poke your cheek.

 · He was the first one to confess to you. It was actually not planned out even though he did plan it out with the help from Kai and Cole, but of course, it backfired during a 'date' Kai and Cole made up for the two of you.

 · He ended up blurbing it out all in one breath-

  · "Y/NITHINKYOURTHEMOSTAMAZINGPERSONINTHEWORLDANDIDONTKNOWWHATIWOULDOIFINNEVERMETYOU!YOURTHEBESTPERSONIHAVEEVERMETANDIWANTEDTOTELLYOUILOVEDYOUFORSOLONGBUTIDIDN'TKNOWIFYOUFELTTHESAMEFORME!SOIUNDERSTANDIFYOU-"

 · You shut him by placing a gentle kiss on his lips, pulling away, and giving him the sweetest of smiles. "I love you too, JJ." 

 · The amount of confidence he's got now because of that moment>>

 · Kai got a bit jealous when he was told Jay was able to get himself a lover before him, and Jay took advantage of that always giving you a quick kiss on the lips when Kai walks by, wrapping an arm around your waist during movie night and seeing the angry look Kai gave him. 

 · Jay never felt more pleased- PFT

 · Kai soon found Skylor and his jealousy was soon gone. 

· Dates happen more often than you think. He takes you to the movies, gets some food, but he's sometimes broke and only has enough for take-out and you both sit in your room in your apartment and watch some Netflix. 

 · You both like to help PIXAL repair some of the vehicles. The Bounty is the main vehicle you repair. The Super Sonic Radar is also one of them and Jay adores the time you both have while PIXAL'S basically third-wheeling. 

 · If you go to school, Jay loves to walk with you. He'll offer to carry your bags, books, heck he even offered to carry you! 

 · When you make it to school, Jay acts like it's the last time he'll ever see you again.

 · 'Do you haaave to go? I'll be alone allll day without your cuddles." 

 · He gave you the cutest of puppy dog eyes, but you tried to endure it and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'll be back later, Jay. Don't get your bolts in a knot!"

 · You came back and he tackles you, every daywhen you come home it's adorable.

 · His favorite place to kiss you has got to be your nose. The way it scrunches up is so cute he can kiss it all day. His hands are on your cheeks, but they're sometimes also in your hair or hands. 

 · He's a cuddle bug, if you haven't already known, he can hug you all day and he will! One morning he refused to remove himself from your touch, so he rolled onto your back and you struggled to stand up...but once you did you basically gave him a piggyback ride until it was time to train. 

 · For breakfast he just chewed on a piece of buttered toast and Zane was not pleased. He told Jay to eat a proper breakfast but Jay was too into the toast and your warm touch to listen to the Nindroid. 

 · Speaking of mornings, Jay takes up almost the entire bed it's so hard to share one with him, but you're able to somehow get some room, but his hand is smacking you in the face and his legs are tangled with yours. Thank god you are used to it.

 · When he wakes up there's drool on the sheets but he just wipes it down with his hands and turns back onto his back where he accidentally pushes you off the bed now he's awake when he hears a loud thud and you standing up with a scream causing him to scream.

 · You rarely cuddle in the morning because one Jay pushed you out of bed and two you're both wide awake. 

 · He uses such dorky nicknames like, what??

 · " Hey Cutie Patootie!  "Snuggle Muffin"   

       ( or if your a boy )

 · "Mister Man"  "Baby Boy"

 · He's cringe but that's okay 

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Daisy chains

Gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Daryl gets separated after the prison attack. He comes across a home for him and his kid to hole up in. Your home.

Daryl was running.

Running from walkers, from anything or anyone that could hear them.

Him and his daughter.

His selfish act of hiding a personal stash of formula and other necessary items to care for his toddler who fussed against his chest as he made his way through the area. She slowly starting to pick up volume as the fussing became full on crying and he had to start running to keep away from the dead she unknowingly lured.

"Shh, please. Yer wakin' the dead with yer cryin'." His hand held the back of her head and rubbed soothing circles on her skin, jogging to keep a rocking motion going as he moved on.

In his frantic search he spotted a house at the edge of the forest and decided it was the best option they had.

Circling the home he found the back door unlocked and locked it behind him, barricading it to the best of his ability.

Click.

The unmistakable sound of a gun right behind his head made him stop dead in his tracks, carefully raising his hands and thus letting go of his daughter's head.

Fhe loss of contact had her starting to sniffle and cry again and all Daryl could do was slowly turn around to reveal the two of them.

"Was runnin' from walkers." One of Daryl's hands lowered back to stroke his child's head while keeping the other one up. "She'd been cryin', drew 'em in."

You lowered your gun and clicked the safety back on. "You can feed her here." You weren't happy with other people being in your home, but sending away someone with such a young child wasn't okay in your books. "What can you provide in return?" You walked back into the hall and waved for him to follow. In the kitchen you showed him your stash and handed him a jar for his kid. "You can have this if you can promise me to provide."

Daryl agreed immediately. He knew he could hunt as soon as he figured out if he could trust you with his kid. Most people would kill him and her for being a liability. A redneck and a toddler weren't high on the list of saught after party members.

"After she eats, lay down with her. You two clearly went through hell." You kept a close eye on them for the remainder of the day, needing to know if the man was planning anything besides hiding but up til sundown he still hadn't shown any signs of hostility.

You watched as he put her to sleep and sat back down to rest. "You never introduced yourselves. What do I call you?" You leaned forward so you could speak quietly as to not wake the sleeping toddler.

"M'Daryl. Lil' one's Daisy." You exchanged introductions and both felt okay enough around each other to sleep.

Daryl stuck around inside the house for two days, watching you like a hawk whenever you interacted with Daisy.

"Hey." He found you on the couch with Daisy asleep next to you after having eaten. "Ya good to watch 'er while I hunt? Try'na be back before dark."

If anyone watched the scene from afar they'd assume the two were a couple.

You were surprisingly comfortable with having others around these days, and Daryl was beyond happy he found someone to help with Daisy. He was happy to hunt for you, he was good at it and he'd be proving his worth.

Daryl kept his word and came back before dark with a small deer and to say you were excited was an understatement. You were probably the world's worst hunter so seeing Daryl come back with a week's worth of meat was a huge turn on.

Or maybe you were just deprived. Daryl didn't seem like someone who'd let you jump his bones for any and all reason so you just had to ignore the feelings for as long as needed.

Ignoring lasted for two weeks.

The three of you were living together so comfortably. You brought back way more than needed on your runs and Daryl made sure the area was secure and you always had meat for somewhat balanced meals.

As time passed Daryl started to get the need to find his old group. See if there were survivors he could reunite with but he didn't know how to ask you for a portion of your supplies. You had already been so kind to let him stay and offer the two of them so much. He also felt weird about leaving you here. Separating Daisy from someone she clearly bonded with hurt him too.

Any idea of leaving just felt wrong, unless you'd all leave.

You started to notice him being distant, fidgety all the time so you sat down with him one evening.

"What's eating you, Daryl?"

He glanced up from cleaning his knives only to grumble at you, not answering at all.

"Come on. It's clear you've got something on your mind. Tell me, please?"

With a huff he put his items away and slumped back against the couch. "S'mah group. Gotta find 'em. Dun wanna leave ya alone."

"I'll come." It was an easy decision, really. You helped watching Daisy and he knew the woods well enough to travel through them. "I've got no one, you got them. It'd be good for us all if we found your friends."

Daryl nodded, happy you were on one line and offered to plan their leave, take a few days to prepare and rest up before starting their trek.

Daryl had lived in that house for three only weeks, but still it felt weird to leave it behind. He carried Daisy against his chest and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

You had food, medication and sleeping supplies strapped to your bag, Daisy's items being in Daryl's luggage. You learned more about Daryl now and also learned from him.

He was an expert huntsman and tracker, leading you from your home to a torn down building that used to house people from the looks of it. You two cleared the needed amount of walkers before settling for the night.

"How do you always seem to know where to go?" You felt so lost out here, but Daryl marched on like he knew the area.

"Been trackin" my whole life. Know wha'm lookin' for."

The next day he quietly talked you through his vision, what he spotten and what it all meant as you moved on with your journey. You were learning and having fun doing so.

While he carried Daisy he let you try out his crossbow which resulted after a week of trying, in your first dinner kill.

That evening you sat close to him as he showed you how to skin small game and roast it over a fire.

You scavenged and hunted on your way, spending every moment together. You were enjoying it and so was he.

When a storm hit you managed to hole up in an old house just in time. It was fhe first night you kissed.

The storm caused the temperature tondrop, and the broken windows caused a lot of wind to gust through the house. You had wrapped Daisy in a bundle of blankets while Daryl worked to get a small fire started. You shared a large blanket, sitting shoulder to shoulder with your legs a tangled mess.

You could feel his gaze on you, quickly looking away each time you tried to catch him but eventually managing and softly laughing, pulljng even closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. "You can stare, it's okay."

Your hand went to reach for his, making him look down into your eyes. He saw yours flick to his lips and back up and mimicked your gesture, watching you as you leaned closer to him.

"It's okay." Your voice was barely above a whisper, your fingers now intertwined and Daryl still felt comfortable.

With a steadying breath he leaned into you to close the gap, pressing his lips against you in a kiss that warmed you both more than the fire or blankets did.

From that night on you slept in each others' embrace whenever you could.

"Hey," you jogged to catch up with Daryl's strides. "Your group, is Daisy's mom a part of it?"

Daryl scoffed and replied with a stern "No."

"She ain't got no mom." It was clear from his tone he wasn't going to share anything else so you dropped it, falling in with him in silence.

You traveled like that for a while, not speaking unless it was needed until you came across a barn to rest in.

Daisy was tired and all the traveling had her fussing and crying and Daryl couldn't get her to quiet down in his tired, cranky state.

"Let me take her for a bit. You need to rest." Daryl tried to protest but he knew you'd win. He'd always let you win when you had disagreements and honestly he was too tired to even try at this point.

So now you cared for her, managing to make her crying stop and let Daryl sleep while you kept your ears open until you yourself dozed off too.

When you woke up the next morning Daryl was already up and about, keeping Daisy occupied and making sure she ate before you set out again.

Daryl fell into step beside you on a long stretch of road, glancing over at you with Daisy in your arms.

"Her mom.." he sighed deep. "She were a ..a girl, mah brother paid. Thought I needed ta get laid more often." The topic had him anxiously fiddling with the frays on his gloves. "She disappeared fer months. Dumped 'er on mah doorstep an' left."

Oh. You understood now why he never wanted to talk about it. But now you knew the basics you didn't ask further.

You also had to keep your mouth shut before your thoughts escaped.

'I can be her mom, if you let me.'

You weren't sure how he'd respond to those words spoken out loud, even with how close you had gotten over time.

So you kept the words inside, only showing your love for the two of them through actions.

"Ya listnin'?" Daryl stopped and turned to face you, almost having you run into him lost in thought.

Had he been talking to you for long?

You looked up from the road to look at him but all you clould focus on was the giant gate at the far end of the road.

Daryl took your hand in his and took you with him. Within minutes you were standing beside him in awe.

"We're 'ere."

ALEXANDRIA SAFE ZONE

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: That single dad fic I promised! I hope it's what y'all hoped ♡

[angelsnkisses]

Can you please write a smut where like charlie tries to dominate the reader but he's truly a sub at heart so eventually he gives up and she makes him beg for her to dominate him

Honest Attempt ♡ - Charlie Walker x fem!reader

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

warnings: sub!charlie, dom!fem!reader, thigh riding, handjob, cum eating

A/N: ugh anon you are a genius, this was so so fun to write :). thank you! (not proofread yet)

Charlie panted softly, your fingers pulling at his hair while his hands rubbed over your waist. His lips moved against yours fluidly, teeth occasionally clashing gently as you kissed. He'd only been in your room a couple minutes, and you were already all over each other, your shirt discarded on the floor next to the bed.

You were laying underneath your boyfriend, pushing softly against his knee, which was currently pressed between your legs. You moaned into the kiss, small bursts of pleasure spreading between your legs at the weak friction. It wasn't enough, and you were getting pretty impatient at that point.

Charlie pulled back from the messy kiss, looking down at what you were doing with a heavy sigh. He looked back up at your face, his pupils blown with arousal. Smiling lazily, he slipped a hand down to your thigh, grinding his knee against you with more intent.

You made a louder noise now, head falling back against the pillows and hips raising slightly. Wisps of anticipation wrapped around you, your skin hot and your breathing quick. He felt a pulse in his lower abdomen at the sight, his lips parting as he watched you.

"So sexy," he mumbled, leaning down a little to wrap his arm fully around your waist. He flipped the two of you over, moving so he was sitting back against the headboard while you straddled his thigh.

You were a little surprised at his initiative, though you didn't show it. You weren't expecting him to take much control since he usually wanted you to, which was never an issue. You enjoyed it just as much as he did. Still, you were interested in seeing how far he'd take this.

"Come on, use me to get off," he urged impatiently, a little bit of desperation showing in his voice as he spoke. You smiled a bit at the edge in his tone, hands moving to his shoulders. You rolled your hips slowly, a little gasp leaving your lips at the pressure on your clit.

"You like when I use you?" you teased between moans, watching his eyes flicker up to yours. "W-what? Don't do that," he pleaded softly, embarrassed by how heated his face was getting. "Do what?" you asked innocently, your hands moving down to rest on his chest.

He sucked in a shaky breath, his dick twitching in his jeans at the sight of you using his thigh for your own pleasure. "You know what," he said, his hands holding your waist to keep you steady. You figured you shouldn't push it too much yet, your head falling forward as you picked up speed.

He couldn't take his eyes off you while you moved, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. Despite his attempts, you had already made it your own personal goal to get him to give in. You couldn't help yourself, you loved seeing him melt under you. You leaned closer, beginning to undo his shirt buttons eagerly.

He briefly removed his hands from your skin, helping you with the task at hand. He sat up so you could get the blue fabric off his shoulders, leaning back against the board while you tossed it to the floor.

You slowed your movements to stop, shuddering softly as you fought back the urge to chase your release, already having a little plan of your own in mind. He squirmed a little, his hands slipping down to your hips. He tried to move you against him again, giving you impatient eyes when you kept yourself still.

"Come on, keep going," he ordered softly, sitting up so his face was closer to yours. You smiled sweetly, tilting your head a bit. "What, are you gonna make me?" you challenged, hands wandering down to his abdomen to trace the smooth muscle. He groaned under his breath, a tortured look on his perfect face as he gave you a pleading gaze.

"That's not fair," he mumbled, his voice whinier now. You feigned confusion, enjoying yourself.

"No, by all means.. make me, Charlie," you insisted. You could feel goosebumps raise on his skin where you were touching him, his stomach tensing as he tried to ignore how much he needed you to take control.

"I- I can't.. you know I can't," he finally admitted. His hands fell off your hips, anxiously placing them over yours and trying to move them lower down, where he needed you most. You pulled them back, gently slapping his hands away. You ignored his annoyed protest, resting your hands on his waist and rubbing his sides with a thoughtful hum.

"I know.. it's kinda cute," you said with a teasing smile, a sense of accomplishment leaking into your voice.

"Oh shut up, just do something," he whined, impatience lacing his tone. You tutted, giving him a disappointed stare.

"Is that how we get what we want? Hmm?" you asked, a condescending edge in your voice. He winced mentally, regretting his choice of words. He made a quiet noise, shaking his head quickly.

"N-no.. I just need you so bad," he admitted quietly, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. You tightened your hands a little, leaning down so you were eye to eye.

"Then ask politely, doll.. you know how," you reminded him. He shook his head again, looking down to avoid your tantalizing gaze. Removing a hand from his waist, you tilted his head up, offering a small smile.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. I wanna hear you.. come on, beg for me," you cooed, pushing his hair out of his face before sitting up. You moved out of his lap, getting your shorts off your legs before settling beside him. Your hand slipped down to his waistband, toying with it while your other hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to look at you, abdomen tensing a bit as you touched him.

"Please, I wanna feel good," he whined, his eyes shifting to your lips as he spoke. You chuckled at his attempt, slipping your hand into his jeans. You finally, finally touched him, rubbing him through his boxers with firm fingers. "You can do better than that, Charlie," you scolded softly, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. He groaned, his lips immediately moving against yours to return the kiss.

He was gasping softly when you pulled back, his eyes finally showing some defeat as he opened his mouth to plead with you.

"Fuck- please? Please, I'll be so good for you, I promise," he blubbered, his cock practically throbbing in your hand as he spoke. "I'm begging you, please."

That was all you needed to hear, removing your hand from his pants. He was about to protest, when you started unbuttoning his jeans, fidgeting with the zipper a bit before getting it down. You could hear every little gasp from him, every heavy breath he took, and every whiny noise he made, creating a symphony of sound for you to enjoy.

You slowly pulled him out of his boxers, relishing the shaky breath he took as you did so. He was already hard, his tip red and wet with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, licking your lips as you began to pump him in your hand. He jerked a bit, your warm hand contrasting the cold air of your room.

"Ohh.. thank you," he whimpered, his fingers grabbing at the sheets under him. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes closing and lips parting as he moaned. He was such a pretty sight, all worked up under your touch.

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" you purred, leaning in to start kissing at his neck. You applied more pressure as you stroked him, listening to his pathetic little moans with a satisfied smile on your face.

"Aren't you?" you reiterated, biting down on his neck. He let out a sound that was halfway between a yelp and a moan, his cock twitching at the painful sensation.

"Ah- yes! Yes, I'm a good boy," he whined, opening his eyes and looking down at your hand. It was quite a sight to see, your fingers snug around him and moving quick. He was already close, his lower abdomen spasming slightly and his eyelids fluttering.

"I'm gonna cum- fuck, please," he begged, vaguely aware of you sucking gently on his neck, marking him up as yours. You pulled back when he spoke, ducking your head down to push him into your mouth. You gagged, but didn't let up, listening to his wanton moan as he hit the back of your throat.

He bucked his hips up, a low groan leaving his swollen lips as he spilled into your throat. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly while he finished. You pulled your head off him when he was done, swallowing whatever was in your mouth before gasping for air.

You tried to catch your beath, looking at Charlie's face to see how he was handling himself. He released your hair, allowing you to sit up again. He mumbled 'thank you' a few times, still trembling from his orgasm. You grinned, grabbing onto his shoulders and slinging your thigh around his lap so you could straddle him. He gave you a perplexed look, shaky hands resting hesitantly on your hips.

"What, you think we're finished?"

**

A/N: this is awful wtf 😭. i have better stuff coming soon, sorry for the lack of posts! this week has been so fucking stressful, but at least i saw barbie yesterday 🥲. anyways, here's this! hope you enjoyed <3.

[crimsonteaaddict]

Warning: Yandere, stranger danger, manipulation, dubious consent, NSFW

You’d originally met him online. You were a streamer and he was introduced to you by one of your streamer friends. Now you were his personal cum sock and it wasn’t his fault you were so cute, he had a type and you fit it perfectly. How could you possibly blame the man for obsessing over you when you seemed to fit his incredibly specific standards perfectly.

You’d known him for a couple weeks when you first saw the full body of the ripped older man, he wasn’t quite a DILF yet but he was on his way. It was somewhat of a shock for you because despite his nice voice and attractive personality, he was practically a night walker. Okay, so he actually just had a good job in coding (not AI) and also had hobbies and was hot. The only thing keeping him off the market was clearly his specific taste.

It was a month in he joked about being willing to send you a dick pic if you were curious, and while normally not enticing, after all the flirting and teasing you were practically drooling at the thought of seeing the man’s length. He was hot, smart, had a good personality, complimented you (ignore his age, the gap is probably fine, it is legal after all, you are a full grown adult) and he may have had a good penis too. Even if he didn’t you weren’t quite sure you’d care…. It was somehow pretty and big.

Two months in you were crying to him drunk on the phone at two am while he sang your praises. Then you were planning a meet up.

A week later you were cummimg to the thought of him and all the things he’d said to you in the past.

The only flaw this man seemed to have is despite how much you loved streaming he hadn’t seen a single stream of yours. He owned his own home, worked out, had hobbies, and a good job so of course he didn’t really have time, but he’d kind of turned you into a bit of an attention whore.

How were you supposed to know when you met him he’d been watching your streams? They allowed him to hear your voice whenever you weren’t on call with him, it was one of the only times where you didn’t know he was listening while also welcoming it. (Webcam was no fun because he wanted you to want it, to crave it) Your streams were live for everybody, even if he only lurked with his pretty cock in hand. He wouldn’t chat of course, he’d perfectly programmed you to crave the attention, but he wasn’t gonna let you think you had the power. Don’t be silly.

It took barely two and a half months for you to go on a road trip with him to a secluded mountain despite you sharing your location and his full name with your friends and family. He wasn’t worried though, he knew you wanted him, you’d admitted it. Practically begged to see his cock and he was pretty sure you’d beg to kiss it in person.

It didn’t take much just him asking you to move the bags while he locked up the cars to get you to bend over. You’d moved them before looking up at him with pleading eyes “is this good?” As he made his way up and into the room behind a minute of two later. The bags were on the desk next to the bed you were flopped on. He let out a husky “perfect” in response playful grin on his face.

And that was how it started. It progressed from there fast. Soon enough he was in you and you were hornier than you’d even been in your life, sure it was just his fingers but you craved it. A little whimper prompt the praise you sealed from him “so good for me aren’t you?” He sung your praises curling his fingers “such a cute little whore”

“Please!” You cried out before getting shushed. This was his playtime, he was only making you feel good because that made him feel good. He’d give your more when he needed more, something communicated in a glare.

It progressed slower from this point forward the agony dragged out even when he begun to drag his cock in and out of you. And even when the pace picked up it still seemed to continue, load after load, until you were practically a rag doll. Such a cute little voice on stream someone wanted by so many people all his!

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Onstage

What - it's nothing to panic about, Lori's secret pregnancy, Shane's changes for the worse, Sophia gone for over a week, and now a barn full of walkers. It's fine. No big deal, nothing is wrong, so you're gonna step onstage and act like it. On the bright side, Daryl isn't stuck in a bed anymore!

When - the morning after Keep this dog asleep. (the night where Glenn discovers the barn in Season 2)

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl. You're also Shane's younger sibling

Pronouns - she/her

TWs - a few cusses, panic, bad screenshots

References - lots, y'all, want the Masterlist?

Length - longer bc I've been awol, I've been dreading posting again, friends, so thank you much for reading. Kind feedback is always welcome :)

“Goodness. You two slept together.”

“Wha—Carol!” you squeak, accidentally splashing some coffee on your hands while you’re at it, to which Carol apologizes, “Oops!”

Glenn and you fell asleep beside each other, by the fire pit. You two must have conked out while staring at the barn.

Brr, the sun hasn’t warmed the day yet, you’re like an ice-pop.

“Wh’appened?” Glenn mumbles, still half-asleep in Dale’s camp chair.

Carl, freshly freed from the house and now officially back to the tents, also wanted to know, “What was the joke?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Carol whispers in your ear and wipes the coffee off your hand with a tissue she had in her pocket.

That ship has sailed, Carol!

Lori smiles and shakes her head, and hands Glenn a coffee cup. “Carol was teasing them about having spent the night out here. Must’ve stayed up far too late having fun.”

“‘Fun,’” Glenn groans to himself, blindly nursing his coffee. You notice he winces and reaches for the back of his neck when he tries to bend it forward. Must’ve slept on it wrong.

“How late did you guys stay up?”

“I don’t even know, little man,” you answer Carl while reaching out for a hug. “But ‘far too late’ sure is correct.”

He returns your reach and hugs you back, tucking his head down across your neck like he used to when he was little. You press a kiss to his temple and hold him awhile longer, not wanting to let go first.

It’s good to have started the day on an up-note. You’re already on guard this morning. Less so about the genuine, bona-fide barn full of walkers on the property and moreso that Glenn won’t keep the secret long enough.

Which is backwards, but…the worry is that Shane will, um, and, and— oh God, and Carl can’t go near it! What are you gon—

“—Here, Maggie left these for you two.” Lori has returned and plunks down what resembles an Easter basket filled with peaches.

“Wait, should you be lifting heav—” Glenn cuts himself off, apparently having woken up a brain cell and remembering the pregnancy is still a secret.

You run onstage and speak up for Lori. “That’s how her arms stay so toned. Can you believe she hand-whipped the cream for the ambrosia?” Solid improv.

Lori seems to tamp down on whatever frustration she’s feeling. “It’s not heavy, Glenn.”

“Mom can lift so much, that puny basket of peaches is nothing,” Carl tells him, apparently thinking Glenn was being dumb.

Rattled, it takes a moment before Lori recalls what she was talking about. “Maggie also gave us a bucket filled with tomatoes along with another big bowl of eggs. We have to find a way to thank them. They’ve done so much.” She sighs. “Even last night, we cooked the meal, but they provided the food. Meat, even. All we contributed food-wise was the field green salad and the two cans of creamed corn.”

You’ve got to keep it to yourself that by not revealing the Greene’s massive secret about a barn full of walkers, you’re certainly giving them some kind of fucked up recompense.

And like you said last night, there are worse things to be bribed with than food. In fact, you have no immediate plans to do anything other than sit here, miserably tired, in T-Dog’s camp chair and stress-eat peaches — and stick close to Glenn lest he get the urge to open Pandora’s box about that barn.

“Carl, Miss Patricia hopefully mentioned how the barn is unstable? They won’t even go near it, and we are forbidden.” You swipe a peach and have at it. The juice dribbles down your hand and chin. Carl smirks. You snort; at least he’s seen you look grosser. So, in a very ladylike fashion, you shove the rest of it in your mouth in one bite and immediately swipe another. “There’s some kind of vermin problem, too, and you don’t want none of them diseases rats and the like carry. Keep away.”

Mid-chew, you realize that you just lied flawlessly by slipping in truth. You’re not big on lying. In fact, you hate it. You don’t do it, or, at least you think you don’t? Do you?

This and the weight of last night’s inward decision that you made sits heavy in your stomach, making the peach sink like a rock.

You’re going to leave, with your brother. Shane can’t stay here, not when the news of the baby and now the barn gets out. You’ll even go to Fort Benning despite all your misgivings. Anything to keep things from imploding here when those secrets get out. Not, um, not that you’ll stay away forever from the group, just until, um…

Well, if looks are any indication, Glenn’s also busy being miserably tired and stressed. He was the one to discover the barn’s secret, first off. And he’s not good with secrets, and now has three to contend with. The pregnancy, Shane losing his temper and physically hurting you. And now, the stupid, stupid, awful barn.

“Did your head flop down when you fell asleep, Glenn?”

“It must’ve, it’s so stiff!” he mutters. “I can’t have a stiff neck when the…”

Smart, he knows not to finish the sentence and instead resumes warily eyeing the barn. You’re grateful your neck is fine and dandy, you’re in no fit state to mess up your neck or shoulder again. For real, by the grace of God, you’d fallen asleep nestled in T-Dog’s camp chair and your neck stayed blessedly straight and untwisted.

“We search for Sophia in groups, it’s all good,” you cover for him. Carl is still next to you, so the fewer questions, the better.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but you’re restless. Seeking something to busy your hands with, you think to yourself you know what? Your friend could use a massage. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, considering you slept together (lol).

Shoving the rest of the second peach in your mouth, you consider that slurping the juice off your hand may be a mite untoward, so instead you…wipe it on the clothes you wore all day yesterday and fell asleep in…such a feminine, classy woman. Didn’t even brush your teeth last night.

Whatever, a neck and shoulder rub is the least you can do for a friend you may not see again. “Glenn, I can do you a massage,” you offer.

“Wait. Really?”

“’Course.” Let’s face it, you may not see him again after you leave. Maybe no one here, just look at the track record of losing peop — oh my gosh, crybaby much? Get your butt back onstage and act fine.

“Can you, with your arm still wrapped like that?” he checks regarding your modified sling.

“Sure can.”

“Dude, that would be, like,” Glenn sighs, then you hear Lori call for Carl, who gets up and goes to his mother. “Thank you, that would be awesome, it hurts really bad,” your friend accepts.

“Eh, it’s the least I could do, considering last night we did,” pause for dramatic effect, “sleep together.”

“What the h—”

“—Bro, I know," you drone. "That’s what Carol joked about a few minutes ago. Didn’t expect that joke outta her, right?”

“Slept together, now I get it,” he cracks up halfheartedly. But in an instant, his gaze gets drawn right back toward the barn and resettles into uneasy, blatant stare.

That rattles you. Suddenly, you become convinced he’s gonna spill the beans before the one week (at least one week!) trial. For a few moments, you feel breathless, as in you can’t inhale enough. That happened last night, too, you figured it was because of the cold air.

You cough, inhale extra deep. The sensation goes away. But now you’re starting to get mad. As you rise from the chair, you’re more than conscious of your inner kettle beginning to simmer. Not gonna lie, you sound snotty when you comment, “Glad to see they didn’t learn how to jump as high as a hayloft and find their way out yet.”

“Y/N.”

In lieu of any new comeback, you start on his neck. Immediately and likely without meaning to, he lets out a thankful groan. That warms you, and you remind yourself he’s worried for a good reason and that you love your friend.

And, strangely, then you think back to how you did this for Daryl, gave him a massage. How pleasant the closeness felt, how strange it made your stomach feel. How he’d silently cried but was vulnerable enough to ask you not to stop…

And with the jokes about you and Glenn, you’re feeling some unpleasantly conflicting emotions. Full disclosure, you’d had some hidden and very unwelcome hurt feelings when you found out about him and Maggie. Residual, you reckon, from when you’d two had a little fondness (lol Dale) for each other.

Really, you know it’s just that you’re lonely and things are stressful. More than stressful.

“Wanna kick the ball around later with the others, see if the girls can’t beat y’all this time?” Together, Jimmy and he have been an unbeatable team so far, and you three girls want to change that.

“Anything to make the pharmacy trip suck less.”

Man, you’d forgotten all about that. It’s supposed to feature none other than Glenn, Maggie, yourself, and maybe T-Dog. “That’s still on?”

Glenn shrugs. “I don’t remember. And I don’t want to go today, let’s do it tomorrow or Monday.”

“Fine by me. Naught dire we need yet.”

He unexpectedly exhales in pleasure when you must’ve hit a spot he needs worked out.“I haven’t gotten a massage since, like,” your friend sighs again, and he sounds weighed down when he continues. “Varsity baseball in high school. Appa was really good at shoulder rubs.”

“Oh.” A memory about his dad might will probably spark a whole lot of memories, and he’s still iffy about crying in front of people. “Want me to stop?”

“Heck no.”

“Are you cool with crying? Massages sometimes do that,” you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant the act itself can make folk cry sometimes.” Especially if memories get brought up.

“Make ‘folk’ cry?” he teases. "You already used the word 'naught,' too, bumpkin."

You pause the massage to give him a very light shove. “Shut up, buttface.”

Breakfast is eggs again, you can smell them cooking. The Greenes have been very generous with eggs. And, of course, now extra-generous with the peaches and some tomatoes, apparently. Maybe the thrill of yellow squash or string beans is in the future, too.

Ooh, or dairy. Oh my gosh, or red meat! Jimmy mentioned they’ve made a ton of jerky what with their cattle.

“G’morning,” you hear Shane behind you.

“Heya.”

“Morning, Shane.”

The razzing is clear in his tone of voice, but try telling that to Glenn as your brother says, “Lookin’ cute, you two. Didn’t know this was a thing now, I thought that ship had sailed.”

Yeahhhhh, Glenn wriggles away from your hands quicker than you can whine, “Shaney!” who simply cracks up, “Just teasing.”

“I’ll tease your face,” you wish you weren’t snickering back. “And you know my heart belongs to darling Theodore,” you add in an exaggerated accent.

T-Dog, unfortunately, hears, and utters a soft “Da hell?” aaand you cackle even harder. Surely he knows the not-so-secret secret that you think he’s a catch? Too old for you, but, like. What a gem.

“Glenn, my apologies.” Shane winks. “It’s too easy to rile this one up. And Dog, don’t worry.”

“It’s cool,” Glenn answers so awkwardly.

You scrunch your lips at your brother in an effort not to smile. He’s acting like himself again, the real Shane. You don’t feel as if you’re looking at a stranger, you don’t feel the urge to stay on-guard or stay onstage. “Proud of yourself?”

He shrugs with a lazy grin. “It is real easy to rile you up.”

“Mmhm, well I’m fixing to escape to Fort Benning right now, lemme just wash up first.” You insert this little seed in hope it takes root. He was planning to go there before things changed.

He was planning to go without your input or foreknowledge, too, but he was doing what he thought was best for the group. For Lori and Rick.

Until he didn’t anymore, according to what he said to Lori.

That night, the same day Daryl had almost died, was something else.

The things he said to Lori echo in your head, the confident flirting while she was visibly unreceptive and shaken.

Then you recall the way he’s been “pragmatic” and almost irritated about the continuing search for Sophia.

Then the way he blew up at you, hurt you.

And finally, how your first reaction to finding out there was a barn filled with walkers a mere one minute trek from where your people are sleeping in tents was to insist that the secret must be kept from Shane at all costs. That the secret had to stay that way because of what would happen if Shane found out.

Maybe it’s from sleeping too close to the campfire or because it was so chilly last night, but the breathing trouble is back. It's fine, this happened last night, it ended up being fine.

You cough a few times to try and inhale more deeply and ease the tightness in your chest, but you feel strange and a little nauseous. Maybe you're coming down with something.

“Lemme take over here — aw, Glenn, hey, sit back on down,” Shane insists to your friend who just tried to escape. “Heard you slept on your neck wrong. That shit stinks, man. But,” he holds out his hands and wiggles his fingers. “I got so much practice with massages from this one’s migraines, I might should switch careers. C’mon then,” he says lightheartedly.

The unease you just wrestled with lessens. This is the real Shane, the confident, even cocky, but goodhearted one.

Huh, cool, your breathing feels a little better, too.

He looks at you and points with his thumb toward the house. “The uh, the little one, what’s the blonde girl’s name again?”

“Soph—oh! Um, sorry, y-you mean ‘Beth,’” you stammer, all the mirth from a moment ago zapped.

The look in your brother’s eyes changes from easygoing to dampened to cold.

He tries to sound nonchalant behind a thin veil of both defense and offense. “Yeah, the, uh, the teenager. She asked for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” You’d be off like a shot if there wasn’t another potential time bomb to worry about.

Glenn.

To your friend, you assure in truth, “He does give a mighty solid massage.” But when you lean over enough for him to see your face, you can feel your eyes darken when you hold the finger to your lips and set your jaw.

And as you make toward the house with your coffee and another two peaches, you’re grappling with the fact that, in an effort to keep Glenn quiet so everything won’t blow to pieces, you’re behaving not unlike the very person that you’re trying to prevent from igniting the explosion in the first place.

Another worry is the way you so easily slipped in and out of being onstage.

You’ve always been one to insist on truth and honesty. It’s a badge of honor you wear with pride, and even Daryl, prickly grump Daryl, has mentioned it and appreciates that about you.

And yet, look at your conduct over the past week or so. You can certainly lie, and be believable at it. You don’t like that.

Ew, gross, you’re getting nauseous again.

As you near the porch, Beth’s soft, clear voice calls your name, and she exits the house to meet you. “I got somethin’ for you. Can you come upstairs?”

“Sure. Your dress is cute!” comes out automatically. You’re still dazed and stressed. Her sundress really is pretty, though. Briefly, you consider how it would be nice to feel feminine again.

She leads you up the stairs, and it strikes you how odd it is that you have to go upstairs for whatever she’s going to give you, right? Then, you worry that it’s to do with the barn.

And you’re right.

Or, at least, you think you are. Maggie is upstairs when Beth brings you there.

The tightness comes back, so you focus on your breathing and will your stomach to chill out. You're onstage, you need to perform.

“Y/N, hi!” Margaret says this a little overly chipper, even though her appearance suggests that she’s had about as much shut-eye as you, if not less. “Sleep okay?”

“A-About as well as you, I reckon,” you answer with a hint of humor and only a trace of a stress stutter. Buying time with a few more coughs, before you get too defensive, you play it off as if Beth does not know that you and Glenn know. “We stayed up far too late and ate way too many peaches,” you say the girl. Which is the truth, you aren’t lying! You aren't lyi — nope, don't you cry! Stay onstage, stay onstage, stay onstage—

—As it so happens, now is when you recall how you are currently carrying two peaches in your hand, so your cheeks heat. The urge to cry goes away, so, small win. “I ate way too many, at least.”

Beth giggles. “I love peaches, too. I had peach cobbler as my birthday cake two years ago. The ones we grow are so good!”

“Thank you for the basket of food, by the way, it was very kind.” Very kind bribery, please keep it up, we haven’t had this much available food in months, in fact, we’ll probably do anything you ask us if you let us stay here!

“There’s plenty more where the peaches came from. The season’s almost over, but we still have bushels left to pick, the hens haven’t slowed production yet, and we’re almost out of canning supplies we’ve done so many,” Maggie responds.

Beth is opening a big trash bag on her bed that looks like it’s filled with blankets, so Maggie takes the opportunity to lock eyes with you again. She mouths, “Thank you.”

For not saying anything? “She doesn’t know we know?” you mouth back.

She shakes her head.

You relax muscles you didn’t know you were tensing.

“Yay, I got it open without rippin' it!” Beth exclaims. “Y/N, Maggie and I had gathered up a bunch of clothes for charity, but that’s when things got, w-well,” she halts, unsure of how to describe the outbreaks. “The bad things happened, but, um, we, well, we still had all the donations bagged. Daddy and Shawn also…” She quiets at mentioning her deceased older brother and turns weepy.

Her big sister finishes for her. “Shawn donated clothes, too. And Mom.” She swallows. “There’s plenty to share with your group, is what she means.” Maggie nods her head at the bag on the bed, then to two others on the floor.

They're sharing...all of those?

You don’t get a chance to ask it because Beth is already answering. “When I saw how y’all looked, it was scary. The,” she starts, then stops. “Not that you were scary, I meant y’all must’ve been out there a long time. It’s scary to think about.”

“In your defense, I did look scary the first time you saw me.” Wild hair, sweat-drenched, sobbing, and covered in Carl’s and your own blood. Rough day.

But having been ‘out there,��� as Beth worded it, it’s not so scary when you’re with a group you trust. It even feels comforting to have them all. Which is when you consider how Shane and you will be back out there in a couple weeks, alone.

“Here.” Beth shyly points to the bag. “I wanted to offer for you to look through the bags first. If, if you want.”

The offer is (more) bribery to keep you quiet, which cools the warmth of the charity, but doesn't lessen the grateful tears you spill. Plus, yes, you all could use some fresh clothes, there’s only so much mending that can be done. And to be offered first dibs, even if it’s just to butter you up, is still being offered first dibs. “I’d love to take a look, thank you,” you say in earnest.

Beth combs through the bag and chats in her shy manner, handing you a barely-worn, calf-length dress that had been gift for Maggie, then a (pure wool?!) cardigan their mother had been giving away.

You find it hard to believe that she’s doing this as bribery, Beth doesn’t seem the sort to easily conceal things. She’s got an innocence that hits as genuine.

But, then again, you who hate dishonesty are apparently great at it. Who’s to say she’s not, too?

The breathlessness briefly comes back. You clear your throat and cough once.

Beth next, to your apprehension and then delight, has you try on the dress and cardigan (which shockingly fit). While retying the modified sling around your upper arm, Maggie keeps trying to catch your eye again in order to, you don’t know, communicate something via meaningful glance? But you don’t have the bandwidth for it, so return her look with a polite smile and shrug.

Her little sister then proceeds to gussy you up in a way reminiscent of how Amy did once at the quarry camp to see how Glenn would react. Gosh, was that only two-ish months ago, wasn’t it? Or has it been longer? It feels like longer.

Beth has manages a quick, respectable braided style for your hair, touches up your eyebrows for you, and even adds blush. She then claims that your hiking boots “look okay” with the ensemble and has you use the full length mirror in her closet to inspect the full results.

The dress is lovely, you have to admit. The neckline doesn’t dip too low bonus that it doesn’t show your bruise, the waist is defined, and it’s long enough past your knees to be comfortable. The length also helps lessen the lingering apprehension you have about showing natural (*cough cough unshaven*) legs.

You actually feel…pretty. Been a while.

It’s as if she knew you were yearning to feel girly again. If this is bribery, you welcome it. Worse ways of being bribed than with fresh food and a makeover from a genuinely sweet kid. And hey, since you have to be onstage so much, might as well dress nicely for the audience.

When you’re walking downstairs to bring your people the donations, Maggie murmurs in your ear, “Y/N, I didn’t put her up to any of this, it was all her.”

When you pull away from her, she's insistent. “It wasn’t her bein’ nice to keep you quiet. Remember, she doesn’t kn—”

“—Good mornin’, girls. What’s in the bags?” Patricia’s voice calls from the bottom of the stairwell.

“We had some clothes to donate since before Easter,” Beth answers. “I figured they could use ’em.”

“They certainly could. I’m glad I have plenty I brought from my house when we moved in.” You can see Miss Patricia in the hallway by the stairs, clearly wearing one of her late husband’s shirts over her dress. Her brows lift. “Seems you dolled your friend up some. You clean up nice, sweetpea!”

“Thank you, ma’am. I-I do feel like a lady again,” you allow, your cheeks again warming.

“Never stopped being one, as far as I’m concerned. Always kept your Ps and Qs,” she’s kind enough to maintain. “Oh, speaking of ladies, I don’t know how y’all are doing on girls’ supplies, but we should have enough to share while you’re still with us.”

“Margaret and I were gonna look for some more on the next drug store run tomorrow or Monday to make sure you’re well stocked.” Along with everything else on the list(s) that was forgotten when those two…got distracted.

Ugh, how different things would be if you’d gone along for that trip! None of this barn bullshit!

Again, you feel the need to cough to help you breathe better, so you cough twice and try clearing your throat.

“Uh-oh, sounds like cold and flu season is well on it’s way,” she muses. “Don’t let me keep you holding them bags all day, girls. It’ll be funny watchin’ your daddy react if one of them ends up dressed in his giveaways,” the woman comments wryly. “Now, I did intend to check on those stitches today, Y/N, so come see me later. Hersh is just finishing up with Daryl’s, in fact, then he’ll be all set to go, if you were wantin’ to see him out.”

Oh, right! Today is finally the day he’s leaving that room!

Carl, too, but he’s already out and has been wandering around outside as much as his energy and mom will allow (which isn’t very much yet).

Daryl, on the other hand, has been too dizzy and too ashamed to do much more than a trip around the perimeter of the house.

Carol and you cleaned his tent yesterday as a surprise. It was her idea, of course. She enlisted your help specifically because you twice mentioned not thinking his sweat smelled bad, which is weird, but, for real, it doesn’t smell bad to you. The cigarettes, on the other hand, ew.

“Are we not going today?” Maggie asks quietly about the postponed pharmacy trip.

With tact, you suggest, “We could all use some rest after stayin’ up so late.”

She peers into your eyes, then nods and adjusts her hold on the two bags in her hands.“That’s a good idea. I’m not up to it, either.”

Upon stepping back outside onto the front porch, Jimmy and Glenn are kicking the soccer ball around already. Glenn is keeping his neck taut as he and Jimmy go back and forth, but the pain must have lessened.

The irresistible urge you have to make light of everything seizes you, and you leap into matchmaker mode because, why not? You won’t be here much longer, and maybe Maggie and Glenn linking up will lead to the rest being permitted to stay. That’s what matters.

Oh, and, uh, because you love Glenn, and Maggie is kind…oh fuck, are you just a calculating, cold strategist?

The feeling that you’re running out of air and going to vomit returns, but you push yourself onstage and commit to the role. You have to keep your shit together.

“Ain’t he handsome when he plays? Good sportsmanship and confidence rolled into one.” You playfully hold a smile back when you glance at Maggie and giggle to hide your heavy breathing. “Also the shiny hair.”

“He does have great hair,” she softly agrees.

“Y/N, do you and Glenn like each other? I-I thought…” Beth’s face has paled.

Maybe that’s why you over-act when you exclaim, “Of course I like him, that’s why I’m such a great wingwoman for him.”

Margaret blushes. “Let’s get these bags to their camp.”

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

Him

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

“I can’t hunt?”

“You can do as you please,” the old man remarks. What, is he making fun of him? “But doing so while recovering from a concussion would be foolish, as would be heavy lifting or other strenuous activity, and that’s not considering your collarbone and ribs. I’m curious as to how you’d wield your weapon or bring back what you hunted, for one, if you would even make it off the property without keeling over.”

Daryl bites his tongue and keeps his words to himself. Well, fine! I can still bring that little girl back. She’s got legs, she’ll be able to walk on her own.

Hershel cleans up his stuff and stands. “Now, then, I’m sure you’re ready to finally see yourself out.”

“Damn straight,” is probably not the smartest response in front of the old man, what with the cuss word, but damn straight he is ready to get the hell out of there. Still, he remembers his manners. “Thanks for everythin’.” He even holds out his hand for a shake. Which is dumb because the guy’s hands are full.

Daryl…puts his hand back down and grabs the few things he had in there with him. Y/N once described the Dr. Farmer as ‘unreadable.’ Definitely is that.

Unreadable, Hershel drawls, “It’s good you’re on the mend,” and inclines his head toward the door. “After you.”

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

You

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

Dude, you had a panic attack.

It wasn’t too too bad, all things considered. Initially, you’d thought it was a mild asthma attack, but in hindsight, wow you were oblivious to all of the signs.

It started to happen when some of the group was going through the clothes, right after Maggie and you dropped them off and she left to do choring.

Lori was beside you, low-key beside herself trying to figure out how your people could “ever repay the family now?”

Next, T-Dog joked about the sizes being too small for him. “Ain’t sure what here I could fit that won’t result in a show for y’all.”

This is when Andrea murmured to Carol, “Reminds me how it’s been awhile.” The way Carol reacted clued you in that it might have been a sex joke. Especially given the way Andy next gave your brother a once-over as if you weren’t right there. You vividly recall licking your teeth and rolling your eyes.

Then Shane — and he did this without having seen Andrea do the once-over — nudged T-Dog in the ribs and began to unbutton his own top. “Worse things than a show these days, friend. And that there clean shirt is calling my name.” Naturally, he proceeded to swap garments right where he stood.

Per usual, Lori was more graceful than you. She ignored it as if he were her own brother acting like a frat boy, and merely continued to sift through one of the bags. She smiled upon finding something, tapped Carol on the shoulder, and handed it to her.

It’s been a week now since Shane's betrayal of her and Rick. Even you are still figuring out how to see him. The hopeful part is that he’s been leaving Lori alone. If his sights have indeed turned to Andrea, all the better.

Back to the moment, you next worried that what if he and Andrea got a little too close, did something foolish, and she ended up pregnant, too.

Not that Lori’s baby is Shane’s, the baby is Rick’s regardless, but...

The tight feeling returned in your chest.

It was in the midst of this that Dale complimented you. “Kiddo, you’re all gussied up! Any occasion?”

“Mmhm, all dressed up for the ‘show.’” The nausea was back, plus a fun new notion of being observed, as if everyone and anyone, seen or unseen, was staring you down.

Dale just nodded with raised brows, and you and he shared a look. Instead of tempering your fears, it piqued them. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Horvath’s expression started to mirror the way he stared into your eyes after catching Shane lose his temper and leave you with a bruise on your sternum.

The fears within you, the stress, the dread, all started roiling stronger and stronger. You cleared your throat, then coughed, but it didn’t help. You felt so restless and, oddly, cornered.

And so, not knowing where to look therefore looking in all directions, you happened to spy Glenn staring at the barn. Again.

The air felt too…thin? And then you noticed Lori examining the torso of one of the shirts in the bag as if testing it for stretchiness or room. You could see the shadows clouding her face right before she abruptly put the shirt down.

Then, there was Carol, holding up something that had clearly must have been Beth’s a few years ago, and it looked as if it would fit Sophia perfectly now.

It was just about then that your lungs simply couldn’t keep up.

“Kiddo?” sounded in your ear.

You may have panted something to do with “puffer,” referring to your largely unused inhaler. At any rate, instead of next going to the logical location of the RV to find the med bag, you made for the treeline. You didn’t want anyone near you, didn’t want anybody to see you, didn’t want a fuss, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want anyone to even think about you, so you had to hide.

Panting, a numbness started to affect your fingers and spread to your torso and toes. You repeatedly coughed in an effort to break up whatever was making it hard to breathe.

Once you started coughing, it dominoed. Your stitches were tugging at the forceful coughs, and soon, you were hacking. The hacking led to retching, one, two, three times. Tears started to fall.

“Baby, here,” came from your right and a warm, delicate hand touched the small of your back. Lori. She pressed the inhaler into your hand. “I shook it up, it’s all ready.”

Bending forward slightly to open your airways, you tried to exhale enough so you could take the dose properly as you clasped the trigger.

One puff. Hold breath in.

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

Another puff. Hold breath in.

The relief that usually comes with the medication wasn’t as apparent as it normally would be. It helped somewhat, but.

You tried another dose.

More tears of frustration. You panted to her that you thought your were going to pass out. "F-Feels like m'gonna die," you may have also said.

The phantom sensation of your hand being covered in Amy's blood returned. You recall wiping it with the hem of your dress, and Lori taking your hands, preventing you from continuing to do so.

Lori calmly instructed you to, “Try this with me, honey,” and slowly breathed in through her nose. You copied as best you could.

She then slowly breathed out through her mouth. You copied as best you could.

Over and over she coached you until things started to ease.

You looked around you. Your new sweater was hanging off your elbows. Your pulse was still loudly thumping, but two doses of a corticosteroid will do that. In your escape, you’d made for the big rocks where you’d shared (sort of) a cigarette with Daryl. The stones felt nice and cool, and Lori’s gentle rubbing of her hand across your back was comforting.

“Been a while since you’ve needed the inhaler. ‘Decorative,’ you called it once,” she softly chatted. The sensation of not getting enough air wasn’t quite gone just then, but you felt pretty normal again.

“I reckon the cold and the smoke must’ve done me in,” you mumbled. Your throat was mildly sore after all the coughing. “It’s good it was mild.”

“Were you wheezing?”

“No, I…just couldn’t breathe enough or something.” You shrugged. “I don’t always wheeze when I need it.” Your nose was stuffy from crying.

She was thoughtful for a moment, and had begun to lightly scratch your back. “You and Glenn seem off this morning. I’ve seen you two tired before, but today you both seem…there’s something else going on, clearly. Did you two fight?”

“Not exactly.” It’s true. “We’re on the same page.” You weren't prepared to have to go onstage again, but just in case, you tried pulling yourself together.

“Was it about Maggie?”

You laughed genuinely. “Ha, not at all.”

Lori didn’t mirror your laughter or even smile in return. “Honey, I think you had a panic attack.”

That's ridiculous! was your initial reaction, which is why, at first, you protested. “Oh, it wasn’t that dramatic.”

“It looked different from where I was. But even still, it didn’t have to be or feel ‘dramatic’ to have been one. You know that.” The nonjudgemental straightforwardness in her voice, in her eyes, was enough to convince you that she could see straight into your heart and read what was there. “Y/N, is there something more going on?”

More than anything, at that moment, you didn’t want to lie to her.

But what could you do? Tell the truth, yes, 'the truth will out,' you know that. But you were convinced that telling the whole truth, right then, would be like lighting dynamite.

In your view, you would be exposing everyone to chaos and even violence, and you'd all seen too much of that already. And no, you couldn’t just tell one person because it never just stays with one person. Lori was/is not in any position to have more fear on her plate.

So what did you do?

You crawled back on that stage and you lied — by telling the truth.

“I’m worried he’ll talk.” Vague and a lie of omission, and maybe a little throwing your friend under the bus, but Lord have mercy on you, it was truthful.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, too. Oh honey, I’m so scared!” she whispered, covering her mouth.

So scared of Shane, just like you are. “Rick won’t hold any of it against you. We all thought he was dead.”

She shook her head and stared at the ground.“But you saw how Shane behaved, you, you heard the things he said, Y/N,” she nearly hissed. “I don’t know who that man was, but it wasn’t Shane, just like when he had m—” then Lori cut off.

“When he had what?”

She shook her head again. “Seems Dale’s on his way over. He told me about what was going on so I could bring your medicine to you. He hadn't known what 'puffer' meant." A look of pure guilt. "And —oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry that you’re worrying yourself like this over my mistakes! It's not fair to you.”

“Your kid ain’t a mistake, it’s so good that they’re here,” you replied in total honesty. First time all day.

Maybe she’ll be honest with you and spill whatever Shane did that she’s not being upfront about. Whatever it is could surely have been described in a sentence. “What else did Shane do, Lore?” It can’t have been that bad, or could it?

All she did was shake her head once more. “Like you said, he hasn’t been himself.

‘Hasn’t been himself.’ Fine. You’ve got secrets, too, so there’s no way on earth that you can cast stones.

You stepped back onstage for hopefully the final time, and made yourself deliver the next lines. “That’s why we’re goin’ to Fort Benning.” Without you all. “Just him and me. Within two weeks, I hope?” The nausea still hadn’t gone away, and simply saying this brought it back.

Her brows sunk caution. “When was this decision made? I-I thought—”

“—I ain’t told him about it yet.” The bitter smile, you hadn’t been able to stifle. “Shouldn’t be hard to convince him, considering he was fixing to not so long ago.”

Lori’s apologetic tone wasn’t a put-on. “I’m so sorry he didn’t tell you. I had no idea you were left in the dark.”

That’s when some tightness came back to your chest, and your breathing turned faster again. “I know, Lore.”

She noticed. “Honey, hey,” she soothed, “breathe slowly, deeply." Her hand cupped your cheek. "His mistakes, his choices, his reactions are not your responsibility.”

“I know, b-but—”

“—And you don’t have to leave with him if you don't want to.”

“But wh—”

“—No buts.” Lori cupped your cheek, stood, and swiftly made toward Dale.

And here is where you hadn’t known she was going to be quite so straightforward with him.

In fact, you’d hoped she’d join you onstage and lie, too, but she behaved beyond reproach. “It was a panic attack, so please make sure to respect her privacy about it. I’ve got to check on the laundry.”

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

Him

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

Funny thing, he’s wearing the same clothes he had his accident in. He’s in the same stuff leaving that he had been when he got carried in there, except now they’re cleaned and mended.

It’s been good to be back outside, he prefers it. He can’t wrap his head around why some people can keep inside in front of a screen all day. You don’t get to hear or feel the wind indoors, can’t hear the birds and all that.

Now, he couldn’t say for sure, but stepping outside and knowing he didn’t have to go back in must feel at least half as good as getting freed from prison.

If prison was a nice-ass farmhouse without the risk of getting shanked or worse, obviously.

Merle would have some words if he heard Daryl say something like that out loud. Though, Merle was pretty settled when he was in lock-up. Fared fine.

His first view when he steps out into freedom is Glenn and the teenage boy kicking the ball around. Those two are straight into it and pay him no mind as he walks around them.

The rest of the group is around the picnic table, looks like they’re sorting laundry (?), therefore ain’t paying him no mind, either.

Phew.

This is good. He was wondering if Y/N was gonna parade him out or make it a big deal, but after hearing her and the other ladies talking in the hallway, she didn’t come back in. Works for him, he doesn’t like a crowd.

…But, like, where is she? He figured she’d be around, is all, but she ain’t by the table.

Ah, yeah, duh — she's probably still doing something with the girl that's about her age and her little sister. Still seems off Y/N and Glenn are only “five or six years younger” than him, but that’s what Y/N has said a few times.

The next thing he sees is Lori, who is swooping down the yard and toward the big rocks where he and T-Dog took a smoke break once. And where Y/N had her first try of a cigarette, too. Lori looks like a woman on a mission, damn. Dale is staring in the direction Lori is walking, those big-ass brows of his slanted downward. Wonder what that's about?

Over the sound of a few leftover end-of-season cicadas, he hears the normal drone of crickets, light talking from the group, the thunk of the ball getting kicked, a very loud crow, some cows mooing, somebody coughing, birds doing their thing, chickens clucking, the wind blowing. Mmm, good stuff. Being inside and hearing it just don’t sound as good as being right out in it.

Then, “Daryl!” comes from his left, and he sees Carol walking to him. She’s a good woman.

And now the memory of her kissing him on the cheek is making his cheeks heat up as quick as she steps toward him.

“I’ll carry those for you,” she quietly insists about his small pile of clothes. He lets her.

She’s been very, um, attentive. Been having most of her meals with him, babying him as much as he’d allow, and all-in-all has been treating him extra after he had his accident.

There are more coughing sounds that he almost pegs as being Y/N’s, but when he looks back in the direction of the noise, there’s no one, just Lori off on her walk, and she wasn't coughing.

“We moved your tent closer to the rest of us, so you would be closer to where we could help you.”

Closer. Great.

Daryl wanted nothing less, but a kind gesture is a kind gesture, so he mans up and acts proper, grunting, “Thank you.” It’s not like they went and messed with his stuff, they just moved the tent, and for a real kind reason.

Glenn rears and kicks, sending the ball soaring. Damn, he's good.

“Now, it may smell and look a little different, but all of your things are still there.”

“Huh?” What’d she mean?

“You deserved a nice, clean place to go back to,” Carol explains. “Y/N and I tidied your tent.”

…

...

…they what?

He gets the weirdest image of himself as being onstage and forgetting whatever it was he was supposed to say next, leaving him standing there like a mouthbreather in front of the audience. And he kinda wants to cuss the audience out.

His first idea after learning Carol and Y/N was: What the hell, y’all been messing with my stuff?? What gives y'all the right?

But, come on, even he had it in him to keep his mouth shut. They’d taken the time and effort to clean up his shit and it was probably as nice as when Carol had worked her magic in the RV. That's damned decent, in fact.

So, Daryl does not act like a jackass, and instead, remembers his lines and thanks Carol again.

“It was no trouble. How about I bring you some more breakfast once you’re settled in?” she quickly offers. See? Very attentive. And he didn’t do shit to have earned it, which made it more uncomfortable.

Aw shit, his cheeks feel all warm again. First around Y/N, now Carol? Maybe there is something to this whole concussion bullshit.

Or, maybe Carol done kissed you on the cheek and said you were a good man and that you did right by her little girl as much as a father should and that’s the best possible thing somebody could be told.

“Do you want some more coffee, too?”

I wanna to be left alone, lady. “Nah, m’great. Thank you.”

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

You

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

“Last night seemed to be an indication summer was officially over. But today,” Dale blows through his lips, “Well, we can already tell it’ll be a warm one.”

“Did we hit the first day of fall, yet? I forgot what date it is today.”

“No, that’s on the 21st. We’ve got some time.”

“Oh, wait!” you squeak (ouch, your throat is still sore from coughing). “Ain’t it the Holy Days for you still?” Rosh Hoshanah was sometime last week, but that one got sort of messed up because of everything that’s been going on.

Oh man, it was the day after Daryl got into his accident, wasn’t it?

Dale’s cordial expression falters. “Yes, it was last week.”

“Yom Kippur is soon then, right?”

“It’s on the 18th this year, yes. Two days away.”

There’s this very insistent raven that’s been cawing away. Or is that a crow? You can’t tell the difference. You can tell that you’ve bummed Dale out, however. “I’ve bummed you out.”

Smiling sadly, he concedes, “Jewish holidays are usually lonely ones in mixed company. And now, especially with it being the holiest time of the year, after everything…” He lifts his shoulders.

“I’ll do the fasting with you so you won’t be alone!” Ow, stop raising your voice so high. “Is it no food or drink at all on that day, or is water okay?”

A happier smile. “No food or drink — barring serious health concerns, of course, in which case, one is required to not fast.”

“No water must suck! When my lot do fasting, water don’t count.”

He nods his head once. “It’s all part of the atonement. It’s considered a blessing for us to fast for it.”

“And the feast after it is fun,” you sigh with a grin. You’ll enlist Carol and Lori to see about making him a yummy fast-breaking meal for the day.

This is what you needed. Dale didn’t press you regarding the panic attack, and has simply been keeping you company by the big rocks. You’ve haven’t had to go back onstage while he’s been sitting with you. You’d probably be content to stay here a good, long time if you didn’t have to use the toilet something major.

“Did you see if there was a pair of suspenders in the bags so you and Mr. Greene can match?”

“Is this your way of saying you’re feeling well enough to head back, or that you need privacy?”

“It’s my way of sayin’ I gotta go potty real bad.” You stand. “Suspenders are pretty cool, you can party like it’s 1899.”

“I actually quite like how suspenders look,” he chuckles, stretching and getting to his feet.

“Mm, they remind me of the Old West, I love ’em.”

Dale and you walk back until reaching the side of the farmhouse, whereupon you excuse yourself to head to the treeline and do your business.

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

Him

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

As soon as the heat starts to sink in, he unbuttons his shirt halfway and kicks his shoes off. Getting the socks off without hurting himself takes some effort, but it’s worth it. His stuff is so squeaky clean and fresh, he wants to avoid sweating the place up too quick.

His old pillowcase is gone, probably scrapped for dishrags seeing as it was pretty worn. In its place is a flower-covered one with soft, thick cotton fabric. There's some phrase about a 'woman's touch' that must apply here. Or, if Merle were here, prime Darylina ammo. Joke's on him, the pillowcase is soft as hell.

And being in there might seem boring, but it's 10 times better than being stuck in a damn bed and listening to music for days on end. Just cloud-watching through his tent window is fun enough for him.

In fact, it’s rad! He’s so psyched to not be in that room anymore!

Cloud watching, playing with his bolts, farting if he's gotta; he's content as can be. Seriously, he’s in such a good mood right now.

But as luck would have it, by the time he’s decided to see how easily a bolt can poke a hole through the mesh window (the answer is very easily, and it’s real satisfying) none other than Andrea herself appears at his tent door. The chick who shot him.

Now, she’s pretty as a picture and then some, but he doesn’t want his belly showing in front of her. If he’d been paying attention and heard her making her way to him, he would’ve buttoned up.

So, he tries out the same tactic as last night, when Carol walked in on him shirtless; maybe by not closing his shirt, she wouldn’t think about it? Or…fuck it, just about everybody has seen some part of him uncovered in the past week. At least there ain’t no scars on this side.

All he’s got to do is make like he’s onstage and that it doesn’t bother him having his literal nipples on display.

“Hey.” Andrea steps into his tent, looking like she is about to eat crow.

She hands him a book. He accepts the maybe peace-offering.

“It’s not that great, but…” she trails off, breathes out, and looks as shamefaced as can be.

Y/N, Carol, and T-Dog all mentioned she’s been kicking her own ass for shooting him. Granted, he’s still a little pissed, and, yeah, real thankful that she’s a shit shot, but — she was trying to protect the group, right? Ain’t even her fault he got stuck in that damn bed. The concussion, split side, and broken ribs did that for him.

He figures he’s gotta make it clear that she’s off the hook without making her feel worse for being let off the hook. And, he thinks he knows just the way to break the tension. It’d got the librarian at his high school to laugh the first time he made the remark, which is probably why he was usually allowed to eat in there during lunch if he asked.

Now, he knows reading is still on the no-go list, don’t worry, Y/N, but he casually holds the book up and flips through the pages.

He’s gotta, it’s the setup.

It’s good that Andrea ain’t said nothing yet, because it’s the perfect opportunity for him to pretend to be dead-serious when he complains, “What, no pictures?”

The joke does the trick. Andrea smiles and relaxes.

“I’m so sorry. I feel like shit,” she starts to go on, but he puts a stop to it.

Tucking the book aside as he settles down onto the pillow, he cuts in, “You and me both.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, if there’s anything I can do, I—”

He cuts in one more time, “—You were trying to protect the group. We’re good.” He means it.

But, ya know, just because things are chill doesn’t mean he can’t bust her balls a little, right? “But hey,” he stops her as she’s leaving. “Shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead.”

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

You

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

“It went great! Better than I ever expected.” Andrea takes a seat beside you on the log. Judging by the look of serenity on her face, it appears that the monkey she’s had on her back for the past week is finally gone.

“Good, m’glad.” You knew it would be fine, but Andrea was so nervous.

“And I have to say, I can see the appeal now.”

“What appeal?”

“Daryl was,” she thinks on the right word and picks: “Charming.”

Ah. You see what she’s trying to do. “Well, go tell him that, then,” you suggest, cool as a cucumber. She and Dale thought you and he had a romantic thing going on. Lol, nah.

“And he was funny!” she goes on.

You sip your tea. “Mm, he can be.”

“Not angry, or, or nasty.” She closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. “I was so worried about how it was going be.”

You tilt your head in partial agreement. He can be a dick.

Your job for the rest of the day, so Papa Dale done told you, is to be chill (yes, he used the word ‘chill’ and it was adorable). It’s your only responsibility today, seeing as he joined you when you went to check the highway spot for Sophia. She hasn’t found it, it’s untouched. Again.

So now, your job = keep chill.

“Are you helping with target practice later?”

Oh, right, and there’s that. You suppose you could continue helping Beth with drawing her weapon smoothly, keep drilling her never, ever forget to switch the safety back and forth.

But…okay: maybe today, that isn’t your job. Maybe you need a rest from being onstage. “I think I’m gonna sit today out.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need a day,” you answer in too high a pitch.

Andy doesn’t inquire further. “How’s the little fuzzball?” she instead asks.

“Still sleeping,” you coo. The sluggish little chick you’d scooped up while quickly sprinkling feed-corn in order to feel useful is your insurance for keeping chill. Can’t not keep chill with a chick asleep in your lap.

“It must feel nice and safe wrapped up like that.”

“Mm.” The chick is nestled in a dishtowel, half its body also covered by your new cardigan.

“Y/N, have you not gone to visit him yet?”

“Not yet. He’d appreciate some time to himself, I reckon, after a week bein’ stuck in there and visitors and checkups at all hours.”

Glenn’s off doing farm chores with Jimmy, so he’s being kept busy and won’t be a concern. As for you, you’ve got your sleepy chick and are content to stay here on the log. You ate lunch, yet another peach (you’re up to six), just finished the leftover raspberries, and are now washing it all down with some fresh mint tea you made in honor of one of your best friends. She’d make her own mint tea and would call it ‘wild mint’ tea because it sounded exotic.

When Dale mentioned today’s date, you remembered it was her birthday. She was the most confident girl you’d ever met, and a sweetheart to boot. You really hope she’s alive.

Andrea chuckles to herself. “I gave him that terrible book to keep him occupied.”

Book?? To Daryl? But the concussion! “A book?”

“I brought him The Case of the Missing Man,” she shares with a grin. “He can join the survivor’s club of those who’ve read it — Y/N, is something wrong?”

“Oh, um, nah, it’s all good, uh,” you are fumbling so hard right now. Cool, you’re feeling lightheaded again, cool cool.

It’s all cool. There’s no fire. Stay chill. “I’m gonna pop over and make sure he ain’t cracked into it yet, he’s, it’s, it’s not safe yet. C-Concussion and all.” Listen to you, smooth like butter.

“Oh shit.”

“Andy, don’t sweat. Even if he did start on it, like,” and you pause, because, “I don’t actually know what can go wrong, I didn’t ask Miss Patricia, but I’m sure it ain’t nothing serious!” You cup the (awoken and now loudly peeping) chick between your hands as you book it (pun intended?) to Daryl’s tent.

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

Him

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

For Y/N to glide over wearing a pretty dress, hair all fancy, and holding some little bird was not something he put on his bingo sheet.

“Hiya, Daryl.”

It takes him a second. “Hey.” He ain't never seen her in a dress.

And with that little bird, he gets the image in his head of her bursting into song and the farm animals and forest critters doing a musical number with her.

He’ll *ahem* keep that to himself...

“I hope you’re enjoyin’ your new freedom! Mi—”

“—Who’s the little guy?” he had to ask first.

“It's a chick.”

Clearly. “Why?”

“It’s cute.”

She ain’t wrong. “…Can I see?”

“Yeah, it's adorable!”

He begins to get up, but she steps over faster than he can stand. She kneels beside his cot and, delicately, transfers the wrapped chick into his hands. Carefully, he unwraps the washcloth around it and slips his hand underneath it so sits on his palm with its teeny legs dangling through his fingers. It’s peeping like it’s getting paid for it, holy shit it’s so fucking cute.

“I came here wonderin’ if I might I borrow the, uh, the book Andrea just lent you?”

Ha, called it! The second Y/N found out he had contraband, she came to the rescue.

The chick quiets down, appearing to relax in his hand. His hand must be good and warm for it.

Maybe it’s because he’s in a good mood, but he smiles like a dipshit for a few moments before saying anything. “Nah, I wouldn’t dream of checking it out ’til you said it was fine.”

“Oh ha-ha,” she play-mocks, assuming he wasn’t being serious.

Eh, okay, maybe he was sorta razzing her, too. But he wants to come out on the other side of this whole concussion bullshit on the up, and if reading is still off-limits, it’s still off limits. He’s not gonna full-on disregard somebody who gives a shit.

“How’d ya end up dressed like that?” is his second question while he pets the chick lightly along its head using the feathers on his bolt.

“I wear this, like, all the time.”

“Oh right, yeah, you do,” he sarcastically responds. He tries to reach with his left arm to pick up the book under his cot, but gets a sharp twinge and surrenders that he can’t do that move yet.

Y/N snorts at the sarcasm and tells him straight, “The Greenes had some giveaways, so Beth gave me this outfit. Oh, thank you,” she says when he instead points in the direction of the book. She picks it up and hugs it to herself. “I do believe Carol put a few things aside for you to try on, too.”

“’Kay.”

Y/N looks pretty.

It’s nothing new, obviously her face is nice, but it's the whole blushing thing that keeps happening to Daryl's face that's annoying. Seems he's started blushing like a belle over all the damn women in camp these days. That really was some smack to the head he got.

He’s imagining himself as being back onstage again, forgetting his lines. He can make something up on the spot: “How you gonna search in that?”

“Ain’t like my ankles are tied together. Women have always been able to move, play, do manual labor of all sorts in dresses, corsets, stays, stockin’s, you name it,” she serves back with just enough fire that his belly did one of those good flippy-floppys. “That reminds me, Nervous Nelly came back! Did any of us tell you? She’s fine as can be, I fed her half a peach yesterday!”

Some of them baby hairs around her face are coming out of the braids. Her skin's got a sheen to it. And did she put pink stuff on her cheeks or something? Or is that because she was moving around a lot and it’s gotten warm out? Because her lips don’t look like there’s nothing on them but they’re nice and —

“—Dare, you okay?”

“Yeah. Tired.”

“You must be.” Why is she frowning? “You looked like you’d just got hypnotized or — you sure you feel normal?”

“M’fine, I just spaced out.”

She’s gonna have him do a thing, isn’t she? “Follow my finger for a little, please?” Ah-ha, see?

Pointer finger extended, he goes along with it for the 10 or so seconds it takes for the slight crease between her eyebrows to relax.

“Please stick out your tongue for me?” is her next request and, uh, why?

Well, he goes ahead and does it for her anyway. The hook ’em horns he makes at the same time are a sure sign he’s in a good-ass mood.

Y/N lets herself smile, then elaborates: “If it came out tilted, it’s a sign of stroke.”

Stroke? That’s a little much.“C’mon, you’re worried I had a stroke?”

She nods once. Her chest expands big as if she were inhaling really deep. “A smoker, extended bed rest, head trauma,” she quietly counts.

Is he hearing things, or does her breathing sound a little too fast?

“Can you point your toes three times?”

He point his toes three times, and yes, her breathing is a little too fast.

“Now please lift both arms parallel to the bed.”

He lifts both arms. The baby chicken is sleeping now and doesn’t wake with the motion.

“Okay,” Y/N whispers to herself.

“Tell me you’re not stressing out about nothin’.”

She blinks a few times and deadpans, “I would never.”

“Here,” he holds the chick near her face. “Get zen like this pipsqueak.”

“But you ain’t ‘nothing’ and you are at an elevated stroke risk.”

He’s only got the one word for her: “Zen.” The hovering motion he made with the chick was a fun touch, the little thing didn’t even mind.

Her expression suggests she’s trying to not smile, and, in a move he doesn’t anticipate, she leans forward to rub her nose on its beak. Her lips brush against his fingertips when she does, and his train of thought derails.

Next thing, her hands are overlapping his as she gently takes the chick back and re-wraps it in the washcloth. “’Lil buddy you’re fine, you’re fine,” she coos. “I’ll grab you the hand sanitizer and leave you to some peace, alright man?” she addresses to Daryl, who's still a little distracted, so a grunt and a chin tilt is how he acknowledges this.

Merle would be laughing his ass off right now, goddamn. ‘Sweet lil virgin Darylina’ sounds about what he’d be cackling about.

Y/N flips open the cap with her thumb and squirts the hand stuff onto his palm. Smells like lemons.

So, he didn’t have that stuff before, meaning she’d likely been the one to put it in there when she’d cleaned his tent with Carol. “Hey, um, thanks for the surprise.” Damn, he’s awkward. Smells way better in here.”

“Carol is so wanting to help you in any way she can. I was in it just to see you end up with that pretty floral pillowcase. I had to stop her from hangin' the matching curtains,” she snickers, then waves him goodbye and, boom, leaves.

So…how long until his heartbeat and head stop racing?

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

You

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

Yet another stage performance today. You had to act like you weren’t distracted by how boyishly charming Daryl looked lounging there with his shirt unbuttoned to his hecking waist, good Moses. But like, the way he snuggled the chick, and how your legit lips bumped into his fingers?? It was an accident! Ohh, but how he'd noticed your panicking so was all soothing and stuff...

Dude, and you were trying to sit like a dainty lady the whole time, too, what a poser.

Still, you think you were convincing in your latest stage performance. Oscar-worthy. Golden Globe. Emmy. Tony. Somebody hook you up with your EGOT.

Oh, and that little jab at his new pillowcase, aw yes, that was top tier friendzoning!

Or — oh, it wasn’t interpreted as flirting, right? No way did you intend that! And, hold up, there's no way he'd even care. It's Daryl.

Eh, you've earned a B- so far at being chill. You've got to get that grade up.

So, you are going to go pick fruit, alone, and you’re going to stuff your face because the show is over, you’re off stage for the rest of the day!

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

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[callmeagardengnome]

𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 5

w.c - 3.9k

pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x demon! fem! reader

genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance, slow burn

synopsis: as hell's receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.

cw: foul and intense language. other than that it should be fine :)

not proofread!

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“Wake up, Walker.” Seonghwa snarled, bringing you back to reality.

You blinked repeatedly, realising that you fell asleep in the meeting room. You had gotten there earlier than you’d like which led you to take a short nap.

Hongjoong sat at the head of the table with Seonghwa next to him, looking at you in disgust. Mingi sat across you, leaning back in his chair casually while Yunho sat with a serious demeanour, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered, slightly embarrassed. “It won’t happen again.”

Hongjoong cleared his throat, drawing the attention to himself. “Now that everyone is awake, let’s start. We need to finalize our plans for the Hala extermination.”

You felt a chill go down your spine at the term ‘extermination’. You struggled to keep a neutral face as you thought about the potential destruction.

Yunho leaned forward, his voice calm but authoritative. “I’ve reviewed the records that Ms ‘____’ gave me and drafted out a map with all the Hala’s houses marked out.”

“Good,” Hongjoong smirked. “We need to ensure every detail is accounted for. The operation must be flawless.”

“That means that any deviation from the plan would not be tolerated,” Seonghwa said, his intense gaze locked on you. “Make sure to stay in your lane, Walker.”

You rolled your eyes. “Understood.”

Yunho glanced at you, smiling. “You’ve done well so far. Now, everything has to go smoothly.”

“We will set off the explosives in three days,” Hongjoong announced. “But we need to ensure that the demons planting them are discreet.”

Your pulse raced as you listened. “How do you plan on doing that?”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed. “We have our methods. All you have to do is remain silent.” You snorted, the feeling of annoyance evident on your face.

“We will deal with any complications if they arise,” Hongjoong sighed. “Our priority is the execution of this plan.”

Mingi nodded, his face troubled. “I’ll make sure the troops are prepared.”

You felt your anxiety spike. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Just cooperation.” Seonghwa studied you. “We wouldn’t want any… unexpected issues.”

You met his gaze. “Of course, I want the plan to be a success.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, each demon lost in their own thoughts about the plan. You could feel your lies pressing down on you, reminding you of what was at stake.

“Very well,” Hongjoong broke the silence. “Let’s proceed with our preparations. We cannot afford any mistakes.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

As you walked back to your room, your mind started to race with what had been discussed earlier. You needed to tell the Halas that the explosion would be soon- but how?

You noticed a pile of boxes outside of your room, labeled: ‘RECEPTIONIST’ in a bright red. You sighed deeply, you forgot that you still haven’t unpacked your things yet.

Entering your room, you started to unpack your items. You carefully placed your clothes into the large wardrobe and decorated the room with fake plants that you had.

By the time you were done, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow in the room. You sat on the edge of your bed, feeling worried. While the Halas knew that there were explosives, they didn’t know when it would set off. You had to find a way to talk to them.

You stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. You figured that it would be good to familiarise yourself with the Palace. After all, memorising the layout of the Palace could be useful in the future. You also felt like it would be a good way to clear your head with everything that’s been going on.

You wandered the corridors, taking in all the details around you. The walls had intricate gold carvings imbedded in them, showcasing different drawings of demons. There were also crystal chandeliers, ones that only emitted a faded light.

As you looked around, you stumbled into a familiar Eternal. He stopped abruptly, surprise flashing across his face before his expression softened.

“Receptionist,” Mingi greeted, his tone slightly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Exploring the Palace. Just trying to get a feel of the place, you know?” you replied as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Mingi’s eyes flickered over you as if he was gauging your truthfulness. “It’s easy to get lost around here. All the hallways look the same.”

“Right?” you agreed. “What are you doing?”

“Patrolling,” Mingi sighed. “With everything that’s going on, the King made more demons patrol the Palace.”

“Uhuh..” you nodded awkwardly. “Is it fun..?”

Mingi leaned on the wall, glancing around the hallway. “It’s boring.” A silence fell between the two of you, stretching on as he seemed lost in thought.

You shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to go on, but no words were spoken. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, his face becoming more obviously frustrated.

Finally, he groaned and broke the silence. “I didn’t train my ass off to end up patrolling the Palace for hours.” Mingi said bitterly as he ran his fingers through his hair. “And for some reason, I’m assigned to babysit you.”

“Am I that shitty to be around?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His dark eyes scanned you. “I didn’t say that, but take it how you will.”

You leaned on the same wall as him. “I swear I’m usually more fun to be around. Just not during a revolt.”

“Sure,” Mingi replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just annoyed that way more demons are patrolling the Palace than needed. I’d rather be doing something that actually matters.”

You mumbled to yourself, “You’re not the only one.”

“What did you say?” Mingi’s expression shifted slightly.

“Nothing,” you covered up quickly, changing the subject. “Have you tried changing your task?”

“I’m not in a position to argue with the King or Duke,” Mingi shrugged. “Orders are orders.”

You nodded slowly. “So you’re just going along with whatever they say?”

“Yeah,” Mingi confirmed, his voice tinged with resignation and exhaustion.

“Right..” you trailed off. You finally found an opportunity - a way to sway an Eternal. The slightest chance of him being unhappy with the whole situation could be life-changing. “Can I ask you something?”

Mingi looked at you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Why? What do you mean why?” You looked at him in confusion.

Mingi arched an eyebrow, his expression guarded. “I mean, this is the longest I’ve ever talked to you. You can’t blame me for being cautious.”

“You just said that you were bored. Since you’re stuck with me, might as well make it interesting.”

He paused, mulling over your response. “Okay,” Mingi said. “What do you want to ask?”

You hesitated for a moment. “How do you feel about the whole.. revolt thing?”

Mingi pushed himself off the wall, glancing around the hallway again. He made sure that there was no one around before leaning back on the wall once more. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious. I want to hear our beloved General’s opinion,” you said, grinning.

“And I’m not snitching if that’s what you’re worried about,” you continued, your expression turning serious. “Who would I even tell- the Duke? He hates my guts.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled softly. Mingi’s laughter faded as he studied you carefully. “I feel… conflicted.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. Mingi leaned closer to you, lowering his voice.

“I’ve never cared about the Halas- I actually hated the fact that they were revolting,” he admitted. “But the way we Eternals handled it was.. disturbing. First, the massacre, and now there’s explosives? There’s other ways to deal with those pests.”

“If you don’t like what they’re doing then why stay on their side?” you asked.

You knew that Mingi held a great amount of loyalty and respect towards the Eternals - which meant that you needed to play your cards right. You needed to get to the bottom of how Mingi felt about the whole situation. If you managed to persuade him, a General, it would help the Halas significantly.

Mingi had just begun to reveal his doubts towards the Eternals. However, pushing him too hard could close off any chance of working together. The both of you stood in silence, your question hanging in the air.

“The Hala’s aren’t that great either. They’re violent to everyone. They shouldn’t even be considered demons at this point.” He sighed. “At least helping the Eternals has benefits. I mean- I get to live in the Palace and I’m protected. I don’t want that taken away.”

“But do you think that the explosives plan is right?” you pressed.

Mingi looked away. “It’s not my place to question the King’s orders.”

“And it’s your place to murder innocent demons?” you asked, your voice being more harsh than you expected.

A quiet tension settled between the two of you. You could see the worry in his face, even if he tried to hide it.

Mingi turned back to you, his eyes hardening. Without warning, he grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer. “It’s not that simple, Walker,” he hissed. “Going against the King would kill me.”

You met his stare. “You think you’re the only one at risk of getting killed? What about the Halas?”

“You think I enjoy this?” Mingi’s grip tightened, his eyes burning with frustration. “We’re not that different, Receptionist. I’m doing what I can to survive.”

His jaw clenched as he continued. “You don’t understand the position I’m in.”

“I understand more than you’d think,” you countered. “But that doesn’t justify taking lives.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed, his voice becoming defensive. “Are you even on our side?” Mingi accused, searching your eyes for answers. “Why would you join us if you hate the things we do?”

You scoffed, “Who are you to judge?”

Mingi’s grip on your shirt loosened slightly as he took in your words. The two of you were locked into a fierce stare, both refusing to look away first. You could feel the anger bubbling within him, making you nervous. Did you overstep? Did you go too far? Did you mess up? These questions raced through your mind, almost missing his intense gaze softening.

“I just don’t get you,” he muttered. “Why choose to join us now?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t really have a choice,” you started. “But I had to find a way to help the Halas from the inside.”

Mingi released you, the grip on your shirt loosening completely. “You’re risking your life for them..” he said in disbelief.

“I am,” you confirmed. “And I need your help- think of all the lives we can save.”

“Saving Halas?” He frowned, his mind wrestling with his decision. “We’ll be going against the King and the whole Eternals..” he groaned.

You looked at Mingi’s stressed state - he wasn’t even focused in patrolling anymore. You understood the dilemma he was in, after all you were in his position a few days ago. Somehow, his decision felt a lot more serious than yours.

“Not all Hala’s are bad,” you reassured him, hoping that it would sway him. “They can be really friendly, I promise.”

Mingi ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling deeply. “Fine,” he said finally, reluctance clear in his voice. “I’ll help you. But if anything goes wrong, you’ll be the first one I blame.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

The next few hours passed by in a blur. You didn’t expect that amount of honesty, especially from an Eternal. You weren’t complaining though, having Mingi’s help could make a huge difference in the revolt.

Having a General’s help meant that you had strength on your side. It also meant that you had a powerful ally that could sway other Eternals to join you. But of course, you shouldn’t be too hasty.

You sat near the side entrance of the Palace, watching the large grandfather clock tick away the minutes. It was nearing midnight which meant one thing, Mingi’s patrol shift was ending.

You managed to convince him to bring you outside the Palace and find your Hala friends - a necessary part in your plan as you weren’t supposed to leave the Palace unattended.

A hooded figure approached you, moving swiftly. “You ready?” you heard Mingi’s voice coming from within the cloak he was wearing.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.. what’s up with the outfit though?

“Eternals don’t really have a good rep right now,” he reminded. “I’d rather not get attacked by showing my horns.”

“Fair enough,” you replied, walking over to the door. “We should get moving.”

The walk to the Market was tense and quiet. You weren’t too sure of where Wooyoung or his friends were, but the Market would be a good place to start. The Market was always filled with a mix of Halas and Walkers, making it an ideal place to search for demons. It became popular due to its variety of products and its mostly reasonable prices.

You and Mingi squeezed through the demons, the chaotic atmosphere making your stomach churn. “Don’t get lost,” Mingi said, reaching out for your hand.

His grip on your hand was firm yet reassuring, making you feel less anxious moving through the crowded Market. As you continued to walk, you couldn’t help but notice how Mingi stayed very close to you, almost acting like a shield.

“Do you think it would be better to split up?” you suggested, getting tired of walking around for ages.

“Huh?” Mingi stopped walking and turned to you almost instantly. “What if you get lost? How am I supposed to find you in this place?”

“True- but I think I can find you pretty easily. You’re basically towering everyone here,” you pointed out, a faint smile appearing on your lips.

“Still, it’s so crowded..” he trailed off, the grip on your hand tightening briefly. “I don’t like it, but it would be faster..”

“Exactly. Let’s meet back here in an hour,” you said, making a sound of agreement. “Do you still remember the photos I showed you?”

The hard drive you took from the office did not only contain the address of the demons in Hell, it also had photos of each and everyone one of them. You sifted out the four Halas that you knew and showed them to Mingi right before the two of you left.

Mingi nodded hesitantly, slowly letting go of your hand. “Just be careful,” Mingi said. “I’m responsible for whatever happens to you.“

He reluctantly went in the opposite direction you were going in. The Market was filled with the noise of demons shouting and haggling. You struggled to move through the crowd, scanning the faces of the demons for any signs of your friends.

Navigating the streets, you started to feel nervous. You understood what Mingi meant when he said that splitting up was risky, but at this point, you couldn’t turn back.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, you slowed down your pace, feeling exhausted. Someone bumped into you, pushing your shoulder with a force that made it ache slightly. “Watch it-“ the demon started, but then stopped abruptly. “Receptionist?”

You looked up and met the familiar eyes of a Hala. “Wooyoung,” you breathed out, relief washing over you.

“Thank the Fires,” Wooyoung said, pulling you into a brief, tight hug. “What are you doing here? We’ve been worried sick.”

“I was looking for you,” you replied quickly. “We need to talk- urgently.”

Wooyoung glanced around, his expression turning concerned. “It’s not safe to talk here. We should find somewhere quieter.”

You nodded, scanning the crowd for Mingi. “Mhm.. but I need to find someone. You’re going to want to meet him, he’s pretty important.”

“He?” He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “I thought I was the only demon-man in your life,” he said while pouting.

“Shut up, Wooyoung. You literally introduced me to your friends,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Seriously, we need to find him. He’s going to be very helpful to us.”

Wooyoung crossed his arms, pretending to feel hurt. “But Receptionist.. tell me who’s this mystery man stealing my spotlight.”

“No one’s stealing anything,” you rolled your eyes. You glanced around the crowded Market, spotting a tall hooded figure in the distance. “There he is. Come on.”

Wooyoung followed you, muttering under his breath. “He better not be funnier than me.”

After several minutes of forcing yourselves through the demons, you saw that Mingi was near a stall, his hood hanging low, covering his face.

“Gener- Mingi!” you called out, waving to get his attention. You remembered that the Eternals, especially the military demons, weren’t necessarily liked around these parts. After all, they were all seen as murderers.

Mingi turned, his stiff posture visibly relaxing when he saw you. He made his way over to the two of you. Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed on Mingi, his eyes filled with suspicion.

“Mingi, this is Wooyoung,” you introduced. “You remember his face from the photo I showed you, right?”

“Photo? What photo?” Wooyoung echoed, sounding confused. “Receptionist, I didn’t know you kept photos of me.”

“It’s for my job, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s move somewhere else,” Mingi suggested, his voice low. “Do you know any quiet places?” he asked as he turned to Wooyoung.

“Where’s the ‘hi’ or ‘hello’?” Wooyoung remarked, you nudging him harshly in the process. “Receptionist, I didn’t know you made friends with a rude demon.”

Mingi sighed. “Hi, Wooyoung. I’m Mingi. Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice laced with irritation.

“Better,” Wooyoung smirked. “Let’s see if you’re as ‘helpful’ as ‘____’ says. Follow me.”

The three of you left the bustling Market, the noises fading as Wooyoung led you through the narrow alleyways. Finally, you arrived at a secluded, run-down building. It was much quieter than the busy Market earlier.

“What is this place?” you asked, looking at the building in shock. “I don’t remember seeing this.. a building this big should be registered authorities.”

“Jongho found it,” Wooyoung bragged, standing proudly. “He wanted to find a safe place to stay at after the uh.. explosives news.”

Mingi surveyed the area. “It looks like an old government building,” he said. “It’s basically ancient.”

“Yeah, you guys are lucky because this is completely off the grid,” you added, taking in your surroundings.

Wooyoung led the two of you inside, stepping over the debris scattered across the floor. “We’ve been using this place as a temporary ‘home’,” he explained. “It’s not much but it’s safe.”

You nodded, seeing the shabby yet surprisingly organised space. There were healthcare supplies stacked on the side of the wall and a few makeshift beds and mattresses arranged in the corner.

The two of you found a cleaner corner to settled down. Mingi followed behind, removing his hood.

“So Receptionist, what did you want to talk abo- what the fuck,” Wooyoung snarled when he saw Mingi’s purple horns. Wooyoung grabbed a knife that he had tied to his shoe and lunged forward.

Wooyoung shoved Mingi to a wall, the knife scarily close to Mingi’s face. Wooyoung used all of his strength to press Mingi into the wall, Mingi’s muscular build making it difficult for him.

Mingi’s eyes widened in surprise and raised his hands instinctively to defend himself. “Wait- Wooyoung stop!” you shouted, stepping forward and grabbing Wooyoung’s arm. “He’s with us, don’t do stupid shit,” you seethed.

Wooyoung grunted, maintaining his hold on Mingi, who looked confused during the entire interaction. “Receptionist, explain why an Eternal in front of me?”

“He’s here to help us,” you said urgently.

“Help?” Wooyoung repeated. “‘____’, This Eternal was at the massacre, leading his demon clique to kill thousands of us.”

“Demon clique? That’s low, show some respect to my troops.” Mingi scoffed.

“Not even denying the killing part? Where are your priorities?” Wooyoung exclaimed.

While you knew that Mingi was involved in the execution of certain plans, it completely slipped your mind that he was the frontrunner of the massacre. The idea of him killing innocent demons sent a shiver down your spine. However, you needed to quickly compose yourself before anyone started to get hurt.

You pulled on Wooyoung’s arm. “We don’t have time, Wooyoung. Let’s talk this out peacefully.”

Wooyoung’s face twisted with effort as he continued to push the knife closer to Mingi. “You brought the epitome of evil into my home, ‘____’. You should be glad he isn’t dead on the floor right now,” Wooyoung hissed.

“What happened to Hala’s being friendly?” Mingi said, making eye contact with you. “I’m starting to change my mind about the whole thing.”

“I’m friendly to friends, not murderers,” Wooyoung shot back, his grip on the knife tightening.

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “Wooyoung, please trust me on this. We’re in the middle of a revolt. We shouldn’t be fighting each other- Mingi wants to make things right.”

“It could be a trap,” Wooyoung spat out. “This bastard isn’t sorry about what he did.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “Why should I apologise?” he questioned. “I’m only here to stop it from happening again.”

Wooyoung snorted, unconvinced. “You still did it. How do you go to bed at night, knowing you killed thousands of demons?”

You felt your blood boil as Wooyoung’s words came out of his mouth. Sure, you sided with him, but it still irked you that Wooyoung couldn’t see past his anger. Without thinking, you kicked Wooyoung’s leg hard enough to make him lose balance.

He fell back, his knife dropping onto the ground with a clang. “What the Hell, ‘____’?” he shouted, glaring at you in shock.

“Enough, Wooyoung. You’re not listening to me,” you snapped. “The both of us are risking our lives trying to save your faction. The least you could do is trust me and my choices.”

“Oh I trust you,” Wooyoung’s eyes shifted from you to Mingi. “Just not him.”

“Then let’s have a civil chat,” you pleaded, gesturing the two demons to the corner where you were at earlier.

Mingi and Wooyoung exchanged a look before reluctantly following you. The air was charged with unresolved tension, but you didn’t care as long as the fight stopped.

Once you all settled, you took a deep breath and began. “Now, the both of you need to trust each other, whether you like it or not. Everyone’s lives are at stake, we shouldn’t be doing this petty shit.”

“I get it,” Mingi said, straightening his back and brushing off his clothes. “He has the right to be angry- I did kill a lot of his demons.”

“Yeah, that you’re not sorry for apparently,” Wooyoung scoffed.

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” Mingi uttered, sounding angry. “We should focus on stopping the Royals and their plans. We can deal with personal grudges, or ‘petty shit’, after.”

Wooyoung’s glare softened slightly. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if I see any signs of you betraying us, I’m going to kill you and feed your flesh to a family of Hala’s-”

“-Okay.. let’s move on,” you interrupted, stopping Wooyoung from continuing. “We don’t have time for threats. We need to start planning on how to save demons.”

author's note: i hope yall enjoyed this ;-; it took a while but i hope this was entertaining.. FOR YALLZ WHO ARE WAITING FOR THE ROMANCE, please be patient. i like to write slowww burns so romance will be coming up soon. remember to like and repost my chapters if you like them! any and all feedback is much appreciated <3

series taglist [OPEN] - @binchanluvrr @hiddlestandom @avantalem @hecateslittlewitchling @iarayara @thunderous-wolf @jaerisdiction @mallielovssyou

[forsworned]

I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck. 

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

[slxsherr]

Too Much!!

part II of Everybody Talks!!

pairing: cinephile!charlie walker x melophile!fem!reader

summary: charlie does a favor for you, taking you up on your promise of returning the favor.

wc: 1132

warnings: fem!reader, cursing/swearing, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex (p in v), oral sex (f! receiving), virginity loss, premature ejaculation, overstimulation, creampie

“No fucking way,” Charlie says, leaving the classroom quickly, leaving you to stumble after him on wobbly legs sore from sitting on your knees.

“Come on, Charlie. Please? It’ll be just one night,” you follow him, begging despite the ache in your jaw.

“Yeah, but if I let you go then all of your little followers are gonna wanna come too. It’s my film festival, I’m not gonna let it be ruined by a bunch of music nerds,” Charlie says, rejecting your request to attend Stab-A-Thon once more. 

“I will not tell anyone where it is or let anyone follow me. Please, let me go and I will do anything you want,” you reassure him, holding onto his arm to keep him from walking away. 

“Why do you wanna go so bad?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Does it matter?” You shoot back.

“Whatever. But you can’t go back on your word,” he says, wrenching his arm out of your grip to leave.

Charlie and Robbie plan their final Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie forces himself to send you an invite once all the preparations are made. He’s still not sure why you want to go, you’ve never wanted to in the past, but he didn’t think you’d wanna come just to flirt with some guy. It’s disgusting, watching you fawn over the unknown partygoer.

Not even Kirby’s half-hearted compliments can distract him from you, from how your hand trails from his bicep to rest on his shoulder, from how you laugh and smile at whatever dumb joke he made, from how angry he feels that it’s not him you’re gushing over. What makes that guy so interesting? So funny? So deserving of your affection?

He’s a little tipsy, on his second drink of the night, the first movie just about to end. Still watching you instead of the movie, he waits until the guy walks off to presumably refill your drinks, two cups in hand as he heads towards the coolers. While he’s gone, Charlie walks up to you, deciding he wants his favor returned now. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Charlie asks, taking the guy’s place in front of you.

“Yes, very much. Thank you for the invite,” you say, looking behind him.

“Do you remember your promise?” He asks, irritated by your inattention. 

“Of course. Why? Finally know what you want?” You ask, now focused on him.

“Yes,” he answers, savoring your attention. 

“Tell me tomorrow, and I’ll make it happen,” you say, moving to walk around him, but he stops you. 

“No, it has to be tonight,” he says, pulling you out of the farmhouse to one of the smaller, private abandoned structures on the property.

“Fine. What do you want?” You ask, following him away from the party.

“I wanna fuck you,” he says, pushing you into the withering shack. 

“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You ask, turning around to watch him enter after you, slamming the decrepit door shut. 

“No,” he says, approaching you slowly, not quite sure what to do now that he’s alone with you. 

“Alright then, let’s be quick. I wanna be back in time for the second movie,” you say, pulling him towards you until your back meets the wall. 

“Why? I thought you hated movies,” he says, breathing heavier as you palm him over his jeans. 

“I don’t hate movies, I just love pressing your buttons,” you say, guiding his hands to your chest. 

“You really do,” he says, thinking of the guy he just stole you away from. 

“So are we gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me?” You ask, your hand squeezing his cock teasingly. 

He whirls you around until you’re facing the wall, shoving you forward until you must brace yourself with your arms. You lean forward, pushing out your ass for him, not expecting him to lick you over your panties when he flips your skirt up. They fall to the ground easily once he pulls them past your knees, licking your cunt messily, hands holding your hips still as you try to jerk away from the wet muscle.

“Charlie,” his name leaves your lips in a whine. 

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, you wanted this over quickly,” he says, standing up and unbuttoning his jeans. “You wanna get back to the movie and that fucking asshole,” he says, his jeans and boxers pushed down his knees. 

“Just fuck me,” you beg, pushing back against him as he holds the thick tip of his dick at your entrance. 

He gives no verbal response, only thrusting into you until his hip bones are flush against your ass. Stilling for a moment, his head spins as he experiences the tight heat of a pussy for the first time, and he realizes he may have overestimated his endurance. His hands grip your hips firmly, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with bruises in the morning. 

With the way he has you bent over, you feel like you’re being split apart. It’s a pleasant ache, sending white hot pleasure through your very bones. You’re grinding back against him greedily, urging him to move already. 

“Charlie, please,” you moan sweetly, pushing back until you feel his hip bones digging into your skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, finally moving. 

He curses as he fucks you, from the pleasure and for his overconfidence. Embarrassingly close to cumming, he reaches one hand around in front of you to swipe his fingers over your folds. His movements are clumsy, he’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but eventually he finds the small bud. Rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl, your legs begin to shake from the stimulation, clenching tighter around him.

“Did you just–” you begin to ask, feeling your walls flood with warmth.

“Shut up and take it,” he interrupts you, grunting with every thrust. 

Despite his premature ejaculation, he doesn’t stop. It’d be way too embarrassing if he didn’t make you cum, and he’s not gonna let you hold that over him. So, he rubs his cock raw inside your pussy, too fucked out from his self-inflicted overstimulation to hear the whimpers leaving his mouth. 

It’s sinful, the noises he makes as he’s slumped over you. He’s all you can feel, around you, inside you, he’s all you can hear, moaning right next to your ear, dick pushing out the cum he’s already released inside you. You squeal when his movements become desperate, milking his cock as you cum, and he has to bite your shoulder to suppress the cry he lets out as reaches his second orgasm. 

“Still wanna go back and watch the movie?” He asks, catching his breath. 

“Only if you watch it with me,” you answer, teasing lilt in your voice.

[multifandomxreader]

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I really love your work, and I was wondering if you wanted to do another Daryl one? Based off of it inspired by the song Night Shift by Lucy Dacus that takes place before and after the apocalypse. You can pick time frames/eras I’m not super picky about that I’ve just been thinking about this angst/fluff idea for a while and I’m not the greatest writer in the world. Totally fine if not! Please feel free to ask me questions if you need clarity

Night Shift

Daryl Dixon x Male reader

(I love the song it's so good!!! Hope you enjoy this! Sorry that it took so long)

tw: homophobia, violence...

You worked a thrift store before the apocalypse, Daryl was a regular there and you had your eye on him. You would always strike up conversations and after getting to know him better you would set aside clothes you knew he would like. For example a sleeveless jacket, which you decided to add wings to because it fitted him. You knew he was struggling with money so you convinced him to work in the store. He agreed to it because his brother was in jail so he had nothing holding him back from changing his way of life.

You started spending more and more time together because you worked the same shifts. You noticed how nice he is to the kids visiting the store, seeing his softer side made you realize your crush had turned in to something more. So one day you gathered the courage to ask him out after your shift. He freaked out and ran. When he got home he kept replaying the moment in is head, remembering his brother’s slurs and his father’s hits. He spent the night overthinking but came to the conclusion that they weren’t in his life anymore but you were and he sure wasn’t giving up on you so quickly.

The next day the first thing he did when he saw you was apologizing, you understood and made sure he knew he could always talk to you if he was struggling with things. You took him out to dinner the same evening and everything evolved from there. You start dating and everything was going great. In the beginning it was kinda rough but Daryl opened up eventually and you made sure he felt loved. After a few months you moved in together and even got a dog named Dixy. You were together for a year before your happiness came to an end.

You had finished your mutual shift and walked out the store hand in hand, you kissed Daryl’s cheek. You were planning a movie night and were discussing which snacks you were going to buy before a crusty looking redneck came up to you. Daryl froze and pulled his hand out of yours, you didn’t have enough time to realize it was Merle and you didn’t have enough time to dodge his fist going towards your face. You fell to the ground and the only thing you remember where more punches, slurs and Daryl’s voice getting his brother away from you. You lay there in pain when your coworker found you and got you to a hospital. The bruises didn’t hurt as much as the realization you had when you got back to your flat. Daryl wasn’t coming back, he had left your life without any goodbyes, without any tears, without any notice.

You carried on, changed appartements, changed your shift to the night shift so you wouldn’t run into his brother looking for more trouble. It had been a week since the accident when the pandemic broke out. You were one of the lucky ones that got out of the city in time. Ever since you’ve been wandering around with your dog, she was the reason you were still alive that, and the thought of Daryl still being out there.

You keep going, Dixy walking besides you, if temperatures kept rising you would have to find extra water but for now you were set on just moving forward, following the road. You were just about to sit down to rest when a bunch of walkers came out of the woods. Dixy barks and you grab your machete, with this many walkers you would usually just run but they seemed to emerge from everywhere. You chop a few heads off while Dixy puts her teeth into a walker’s neck. The walkers keep coming and you start to panic, suddenly you hear a car’s engine approaching. Any other day you would’ve hid but you would rather face some strangers then get eaten by some dead creatures so you ran towards the car. It swerved, hit a few walkers and a man and woman got out. The man holding a knife and the woman holding a katana. Together you finish the hoard off.

You are covered in guts and blood just like your guardian angels. You thank them while checking if Dixy is alright and introduce yourself. The man seems hesitant to talk to you but the woman replies “I’m Michonne, this is Rick” Rick nods at you and shares a glance with Michonne. He looks back at you “How many walkers have you killed?”

And that’s how you find yourself in a car on the way to a place called Alexandria. You chat a bit with Michonne and immediately like her, she is someone who you would’ve been friends with before the world ended. You could tell Rick was a bit more careful, the closer you got to Alexandria the tenser he got. “Hey man, I understand that you don’t know me but I really am glad that you saved my life and I look forward to becoming friends.” You tried to ensure him that you were one of the good guys, you totally understood his attitude, you too had met the more unpleasant types out there. Rick hummed “It’s cool man, we’ll see.”

The car approaches the gate and you feel the nerves in your gut, you can finally see a brighter future. Living in a community again, having friends, feeling safe, it was the best thing you could ask for in this world. The gate opens and your eyes widen at the sight. The car parked and you get out. You get some strange looks but after handing in your weapons and Rick introducing you, people start coming up to you to introduce themselves. Dixy was getting petted by some kids and was enjoying herself when woman came up to you with cookies “I’m Carol, welcome to Alexandria!” You thank her for the cookies and eat one of them because you were actually quite hungry. “These are really good!” you acclaim and she shrugs it off. You were in heaven.

Suddenly Dixy starts barking, everyone tenses and you search for the source of her vigilance. The first thing you notice is a motorbike, the second thing you notice is the love of your life next to it working on it. He looks up to look at the noise and your heart starts beating rapidly. Before you know it your legs run toward him and you yell out his name. He realises what’s happening and drops the wrench to run your way. Your bodies collide, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms wrapped around his torso. Everything is too much and you let out a sob. You take his face in your hands to make sure he’s real. His eyes are watery and his smile is a mix between happiness, confusion and repent. “I’m sorry I left” his voice breaks a bit. “I don’t care Daryl, I’m just glad we found each other again.” You kiss him softly, look into his eyes and kiss him again. You were never gonna let this man leave again.

You let go of each other and notice the people around you being astounded by the whole scene. Dixy is now circling Daryl and he gives her a few belly rubs. “So, I assume you two know each other” Michonne comments with a smirk. “Yes” you answer while taking Daryl’s hand in yours, this time keeping it there. Maybe this wasn’t really the end of the world.

[suniloli]

JUST FOR KICKS

29 May 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: approximately 3 swear words, sexual innuendo, fluff

Setting: Prison (between s3-4)

Summary: Today’s weather was perfect for an impromptu prison soccer match. Prison goers — children, adults and spectators alike — become involved, including an enthusiastic you and uncharacteristically playful Daryl.

Author Note: Finally back from my 3000 year hiatus!!!! Here’s a little piece I wanted to get out before I lost it. This is more of an innocent one that I wanted to write (although it’s SUPER predictable ….) I hope the POV jumps are easily followable. Am working on another Daryl fic atm. Enjoy! - Sól

The gorgeous spring sun in the sky and the soft warm breeze were the perfect conditions to be outside and enjoying life. Well, what ‘life’ you could experience within the prison’s metal fences in the middle of an apocalypse anyways. 

This sort of weather was your favourite. It reminded you of your sporting days before walkers came to be, especially the excitement you felt before your games where you’d soak up the sun and let it fuel your competitiveness. Like a videogame character harnessing the sun’s power to unleash their most powerful combat moves. 

It boosted your spirit, and reminded you that even in this world, beauty could still be found. You just had to be open to it. 

And open to it you were. When a couple of the teenagers came excitedly kicking around a soccer ball they’d found, you couldn’t help yourself. Many others felt the same way, which is probably how you all ended up in a massive soccer game across the courtyard, children mixed with adults, the majority of prison goers spectating on the sidelines. 

You managed to get enough to have a 6 v 6, exactly three teens and three adults on each team. Your side included some of your closest friends, Glenn and Sasha. On the other side were Carl and Michonne, and some other Woodbury residents you’d seen around and shared a laugh or two with. Today felt the closest to the life you had before, which was one of sport-filled weekends. So, naturally, it brought out your zealous streak. You were going to win. 

“Guys. We need to fucking smash em’.” you asserted. 

“Y/N! There's kids here…” Glenn jokingly admonished. 

“We’re 15 man…” one of the teenagers pointed out. 

“Anyways…they’re gonna lose whether they like it or not. I’ll play up front. Glenn…you’re quick, so you’ll be with me…uh…” you drifted off, attempting to come up with a game plan. You were so focused that you hadn’t realised the run crew had arrived back and were driving towards the gates. Glenn and Sasha were watching you with amusement. The kids were waiting for your word. You were the professional after all. 

“She’s super into this,” Sasha smirked. 

“Hell yeah!” Glenn smiled. “She’s really good at soccer. We’ve had many conversations about it. Mad skills.”

Sasha patted his shoulder. “Guess we’re gonna have to step up our game then.” 

After deliberating with the kids for a bit, you and your team were ready. 

It was time. 

The whistle — an actual whistle someone had found — was blown by Carol, and the game was on. 

Oh, was the high shrill music to your ears. 

Kick-off commenced, the other team passing it amongst themselves for the first couple of minutes. Of course, since there were no real referees, and since Michonne happened to be right there, you gave her a little shove as you passed, giving her a teasing wink. 

“You bitch!” she laughed as she began running hard for the ball. 

You dashed forward, intercepting a pass meant for her, and crossed it over to Glenn on the left wing. 

Ever the quick pizza delivery boy, he sprinted up the sideline, onlookers getting excited. Making a few minor mistakes, he still managed to manoeuvre the ball around Carl, who you noted was surprisingly fast on his feet, and kicked it back to you sprinting up the centre field. You caught it with your left foot and continued on. Two defenders were gaining on you. 

You juked the defender on the left, rolling the ball under your right foot. Chipping the ball over the remaining defender’s head, you booked it straight to the goal. 

The goalkeeper’s face was full of determination. His hands were out in front of him, feet moving from side to side. In the second that you spent looking at him you could tell he was a bit unsure, but his confidence was unwavering. You admired it. 

However, you used his inexperience to your advantage. 

You faked to the right, watching his eyes follow your movement, then swiftly cut to the left. His stance faltered, giving you just the right amount of time to hit the ball with your left foot. You could vaguely hear kids yelling in the background, Glenn’s shrill laughter, and Sasha’s cheers filling the air. 

As you kicked the ball, its trajectory started outside the line of the makeshift goalpost, and about halfway it began to curve inwards.  You held your breath as you saw the ball curving towards the very top left corner, waiting with bated breath as the goalie took a gigantic leap towards it. 

The ball sailed and sailed and sailed. 

Until you witnessed it pass just inside the post, and the satisfying *thud* of the ball hitting the ground behind it caused your teammates to erupt in cheers.

Pumping your fists in excitement, you saw Glenn sprinting up to you with his arms outstretched. 

“HOLY SHIT!” 

“Oof!” you breathed, getting thrown to the ground in a giant bear hug. Before you knew it, all of the kids, including those of the opposition — a definite product of over-excitement — began stacking on top of the both of you, until all anyone could see was a massive pile of bodies in the middle of the courtyard. 

Laughter and screams and fun filled the air. You didn’t even care about the goal anymore. The innocence and presence of the moment were enough to bring happy tears to your eyes. 

Rick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he closed the gate behind the car. Looking towards the courtyard, he mumbled to himself in disbelief. “Are they playin’ soccer?”

As Daryl hopped out of the passenger side, he responded a bit incredulously. “Looks like it.” 

Opening the boot to retrieve the supplies they brought back, Maggie started giggling, seeing her husband with the ball. “Look! Go Glenn!”

Glenn had the ball and was sprinting up the sideline. At that moment, the three of them observed his and your play. 

“Damn girl…” Daryl breathed upon seeing your goal. Rick let out a low chuckle. Seeing his son playing was like being transported back to a time he thought he’d never get to experience again as a father. 

When Glenn tackled you to the ground, Maggie let off a grunt of amused disapproval and began jogging towards the fun. 

"She’s gonna’ suffocate!" Maggie shouted playfully, her voice full of warmth as she made her way onto the field. Slowly, everyone removed themselves from the stack, allowing you to get up and have a laugh. From where Daryl was, it looked as if you and Glenn were trying to coerce Maggie to join in rather animatedly. Cute. 

As the game continued, Rick grabbed Daryl’s shoulder breaking him out of his little trance. “You comin’ or what?” he grinned. 

Daryl looked to Rick, and after a couple of seconds gave him an upwards nod and made his way down to the sideline with him. 

“Ya’ refereein’ or somethin’?” Daryl asked Carol with an amused smirk.

“Something like that…your girlfriend is kicking some major ass.” 

“She ain’t…whatever,” Daryl grunted. Looking away and at the field, he saw Michonne pass it off to another player, resulting in a tying of the score and a multitude of cheers. Eyes drifting away from the scoring team and Carl’s silly victory dance, Daryl caught sight of you again. 

What you were wearing closely resembled tiny soccer shorts which showed off your long, toned legs. You almost always wore cargo pants, so that was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He stared as the muscles in your quads and glutes expanded and retracted as you ran with an elegance he’d never seen before. 

“You might wanna close your mouth before you start drooling big guy.” 

A faint blush crept up his neck. Turning to shoot Carol a glare, he growled a low shuddup before being interrupted by the ball landing at his feet. A bit perplexed, he looked down at it, and up again to see a bunch of teens running at him and obnoxiously calling for it. 

Daryl couldn’t help but smirk after being encouraged by Carol to pass the ball back. The enthusiasm of youth was so infectious, that even his reserved self couldn’t hide from it. 

“Come on, Daryl!” you suddenly exclaimed, causing him to glance towards you. Hearing your voice made a rush of warmth spread through his chest.

As Daryl looked over towards you, you were caught off guard by the handsome smirk he donned, his eyes glistening with something that made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed slightly, but not from the sun or exertion. 

“Gonna kick it or what?” You called out, a bit of a challenge in your tone. Daryl’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he booted the ball toward the centre of the field. Before either of you could say anything else, Carl beat you to it. 

“Come play Daryl! We need another person!” 

Carol nudged him in the side. “You should go…” 

Daryl looked between Carol, Carl, and finally towards you. You bit your bottom lip and gave a single shrug of your shoulders. The vivaciousness you exuded was alluring. Looking towards the plumpness of your lips and back up, Daryl’s eyes locked with yours and stayed there. It was like you were inviting him to join. Carol hid a knowing smile as he continued to stare. 

Daryl couldn’t leave you hanging, nor could he not indulge you (or so he told himself). Squinting his eyes slightly, he took a deep breath to steel his resolve. Your eyes were like magnets drawing him in. You were beautiful. 

 “Alrigh’...”

As Daryl started jogging onto the makeshift field, a couple of people started cheering and chanting his name. You giggled as he approached you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” you mimicked, hands on hips. You subtly lowered your eyes and gazed at him through your lashes. “Ready to get pounded?” 

“W-what?” Daryl stuttered, suddenly pretending he was interested in the play being made across the courtyard. 

“Are you ready to lose?” You laughed, pinching his side while watching his ears go red. He swatted your hand away. 

“Ain't I playin’ wit’ ya?” 

“Nuh-uh. Didn’t you hear Carl say they were short one?” You waited for a beat, before suddenly shoving Daryl backwards and running to chase the ball. “So better get into position, Dixie!”

Stumbling back a step or two from your playful shove, it was like a switch was flipped. Hearing his name being called and encouragement being thrown his way from the sidelines, Daryl was nearly completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to so much positive attention in this manner…especially your…blatant flirting? He almost didn’t know how to deal with it. 

Almost. 

Seeing you turn back to give him a wink made a certain desire erupt in his midsection. It ignited a type of fervour in him. 

It’s on girl. 

Daryl’s heart raced every time the two of you made eye contact. Not having really played a proper game of soccer before, it was difficult for him to try and manufacture some sort of on-field play with you. Although he’d touched the ball and passed it off to others a few times already, he was slightly trepidatious. The timing just wasn’t right for you to engage with him. 

So, he just decided to ‘go with the flow’. 

Daryl had to admit, this was some of the most enjoyment he’s had in a long time. Especially with other people. But mostly, he enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself. 

You were everywhere, laughing, shouting instructions, encouraging your teammates. You were truly in your element. It was like watching a different person, a side of you he hadn’t seen before. And damn if it wasn’t attractive.

Before Daryl knew it, one of the kids passed the soccer ball back to him, and he glanced up to see you were headed straight for him. He started towards you, eyes narrowing in determination. 

You saw your chance. Daryl finally had the ball and was within proper distance. You started sprinting towards him, admittedly a bit distracted by the glistening sweat on his arms accentuating every muscle fibre there. Focus Y/N. 

As you two closed the gap between each other, Daryl stuck his other leg out and pushed you for good measure, tripping you. 

Your momentum carried you forward, causing you to nearly fall head-first into the ground. At the last second you caught yourself, letting out a huff. A series of concerned ‘Oooos’ could be heard from onlookers. “What the hell Daryl!” you yelled at his retreating form. 

Admittedly, the action pissed you off a bit. Two can play at that game, chiselled arms be damned. 

You quickly pushed yourself from the ground and sprinted at full speed to catch up. You were there in no time. Getting ready to shove Daryl back from behind, you squared up your shoulder and collided with him. It was enough to mess up his footing, and the ball skidded off to the side.  

There was an element of shock across Daryl’s face as he turned around to find you behind him, causing your annoyance to completely fizzle out and turn into something more akin to lust-fueled amusement. The two of you locked eyes, and Daryl’s expression turned roguish. 

The next few seconds felt as if they were in slow motion. The ball sat stationary fifteen metres away, watching, waiting. 

The air cracked with unspoken tension. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest in anticipation of what was to come. Everyone in the vicinity had vanished from your awareness. Now, it was just you, Daryl, and the ball — although really, you were both more focused on the presence of each other than the game now. 

Without wasting another second, you lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s sleeveless shirt. You heard him release a grunt of objection, but it was enough for you to pull him backwards and allow you to lead the chase. 

You heard Daryl yell smart ass as his footfalls sounded behind. You were so incredibly giddy that you felt like a little girl being chased by her little boy crush in the playground.

You were about three metres from the ball before you felt his calloused hand grip your shoulder, half shoving you in another direction. Catching a glimpse of the rarely-ever captured excitement in Daryl’s face, you began giggling as you tried to retain your balance. 

“Hey!” you puffed out. 

“Better watch ya’self” Daryl panted, trying to battle for possession of the ball which now had both of you fighting for it. 

“Better watch your —” you grunted, holding him back with your forearm “— self!” 

Just as you were getting the upper hand, Daryl used his arms to grab you and hastily shove you to the side. His touch set you ablaze. 

As he began running again, you managed to hook your ankle around his own, effectively tripping him over. 

As Daryl stumbled, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, laughing harder when Daryl’s hand caught you behind your knee and he pulled you down with him. You felt an intense surge of electricity travel up your leg and remain at your lower navel. 

Realising you were now trying to escape his grasp and army crawl towards the direction of the ball, Daryl swung himself from his side onto his stomach, scrambling to get a better hold of your slowly retreating legs. 

Surprisingly, you managed to drag yourself another metre or so before Daryl got a proper grip on your thighs, his fingers heavily dimpling into the skin there. Laughter never dissipating, Daryl smiled to himself, having trapped you on the grass. 

Twisting to lie on your back, you continued to squirm in Daryl’s solid grasp. You were able to sense every bend and every shape of every finger taking hold of your thighs. Daryl pushed himself up on his knees, now leaning over your squirming form. 

“Ya shouldn’ta never told me ya’ were ticklish…” Daryl said quietly before he released your legs and started attacking your sides with his hands. 

“NO!” you squealed, thrashing your body in an attempt to get away from Daryl’s large hands. 

Daryl couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the way your eyes sparked with joy. Your tousled hair strewn all over the grass with the sun beating down on your tanned skin made you look otherworldly. Like an angel even his own imagination couldn’t conceptualise the beauty of, but was still here in front of him, seemingly reciprocating his affections. 

You were laughing so much that you were gasping for air. Not wanting you to suffocate, Daryl slowly stopped his hands from moving and held them on your waist for a few seconds to allow you to get your bearings.

Staring into your eyes, he revelled at the softness beneath his fingertips. He focused on the small movements of your abdominal muscles beneath them, and watched your lips part as you pulled in heavy breath after heavy breath. His eyes were drawn to your lips once again as you wetted them with your tongue. 

Moving your hands from above your head to softly grasp Daryl’s at your waist, you huffed a small laugh and gazed at him with wide eyes. You admired his boyish handsomeness. 

“You. Are a prick.” 

Daryl let escape a small snort of his own and shyly chewed his lip. “Only fer ya’ pretty girl…” 

A small breeze picked up, slightly swaying the section of hair hanging from Daryl’s forehead. The way he was softly watching you made you want to pull him down to you and close the distance —

“Either play or get a room!” 

“Yeah! Jesus Christ…” 

The heat of the moment was ruined by a herd of teens resuming the play which you’d seemingly both forgotten all about. 

Both realising the…compromising…position you both were in, the two of you abruptly pulled away from each other, both going equally red from embarrassment. The sounds of people hollering and some mildly inappropriate noises filled your ears, adding to the awkwardness. 

“Oh my god…” you managed, sitting up and covering your face with your hands. 

Daryl stood and offered you his hand which you sheepishly took. He waited until you looked at him before he gave you his half-smile, reserved only for you. You’d never admit it, but it always managed to make you melt. 

“Ya’ actually ain’t that bad at soccer.” 

You shook your head in jest. “Shut up.”

*I DO NOT give permission for my work to be used/adapted/copied in any way.*

[virtualreader]

a moment to bond

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: you fail in your attempt of hiding your injury from Rick, but you soon regret not to have failed sooner.

word count: 2,1k

genre: angsty fluff (?)

warnings: blood, wounds, passionate kiss (is that even a warning?), angry Rick.

a/n: English is not my first language, so my writing may not be the best. this is also not proof read, so don't be surprised if you find any mistakes. enjoy!

two months had passed since you first crossed the gates of alexandria, and two months since the last time you’d been face-to-face with a walker. or so it was until this morning.

despite your best efforts, you could not relax; your restlessness was not something you could easily shake off. as someone who has suffered from anxiety all their life, you knew exactly what it felt like to be overrun by frightful thoughts, even though they had never felt as distressing as they felt today.

it was comforting to sleep in a real bed and to have tall walls shielding you and your group from the alarming risks of the new world, but what if becoming accustomed to this pleasant sense of security was only making you weaker? what if your people were forced to live in the outside again? the fear this potential outcome caused was too much for you to bear and your friends’ efforts to console you were unsuccessful.

that's when you chose to take matters into your own hands. your original plan was to leave the walled area, take out a few roamers for practice, and then return to Alexandria. however, destiny seemed to have different plans for you. what was initially thought to be a few walkers quickly became a dozen. a dozen walkers you were now attempting to flee from.

suddenly, a rock blocked your way and you tumbled to the ground, scraping your exposed forearm on the sharp edge of the stone you landed on.

blood poured from your freshly-cut gash, making you even more anxious than before. you clenched your teeth in pain, hoping that the dead would not hear your groans. after the walkers had disappeared from your view, you rummaged through your bag to see if you could find anything to use as a bandage. however, to your dismay, all you found was a water bottle and a spare knife.

you looked around for any other resources, but the barren landscape provided few options. as you weighed your choices, you realized that ripping off a piece of your tattered t-shirt was the only option. you gritted your teeth and reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly tearing off a piece of fabric to use as a makeshift bandage.

you then wrapped the strip of fabric tightly around the wound, wincing from the pain. you knew it wasn't an ideal solution, but it would have to do for now. you stood up, feeling a bit more stable, and looked around to see where you could go next.

as you stumbled through the dilapidated woods, your vision blurred and hazy, you couldn't help but question your decision to leave the safety of the walls.

the dizziness you felt only made things worse, and you began to wonder if Rick was right after all. perhaps you were simply too weak to survive in this harsh new world. as you trudged forward, you couldn't shake the feeling that danger lurked around every corner and that you were ill-prepared for whatever lay ahead.

despite your doubts, however, you knew that you must keep moving if you wanted to stay alive.

against all odds, you made it to the Alexandria safe zone, which definitely made you relax a bit. however, you still had to enter the walls without being seen. you also needed to take a shower and change clothes to erase any trace of the horrors that you had endured on your way to the comunity.

you didn't want anyone to find out what had happened to you. but even as you stripped off your blood-stained garments and let the warm water wash away the grime and sweat of your journey, you knew that the scars on your psyche would take much longer to heal.

you had managed satisfactorily to keep your little accident a secret throughout the day, in spite of your giddiness and the weakened you were in.

it was now dinnertime, and you realized that you hadn't spent much quality time with Rick lately. you had joined the group after the fall of the prison, and Rick was the only one you had gotten close to.

he had been distant from you for some time, and you didn't want to lose your only friend. therefore, you decided that tonight would be the perfect opportunity to try and bond with him.

you decided that you would cook for him and his children, which would give you a chance to talk and catch up on things. you thought that this would be a great way to strengthen your friendship, and you hoped that it would also help to improve your relationship with the other members of the group. after all, a strong sense of community was essential for survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

from the kitchen, one could observe Carl lounging on the living room couch. the room was quiet, except for the sound of the pages of the comic book that Carl's father had brought home on his most recent trip turning. Carl's legs were crossed over the small coffee table, and his hands were holding the comic book with great interest.

the dim evening light that illuminated the room barely allowed to distinguish Rick’s serene face as he was holding the younger grimes in his arms.

"what are you cooking tonight?" his gaze was fixed on you, studying your facial expressions as you cut a carrot.

“squirrel and roasted vegetables. I’d have used rabbit, but this is all Dary could find today.”

“it’s fine, I don’t really mind your culinary election as long as we get to spend some time together.” the now beardless man smiled at you.

“that's so cheesy of you, Grimes.” he chuckled at your comment.

he remained quiet for a moment, making you feel as if he could see right through your t-shirt's sleeve. oh, no. you suddenly remembered that you had rolled up your long sleeves so they wouldn't interfere with chopping vegetables, leaving your bandaged arm visible to Rick's worried gaze.

“is that blood?” he inquired.

you continued with your activity not even taking your eyes off the chopping board.

Rick handed the little Judith to her elder brother, instructing him to go upstairs. the tension in the kitchen became now palpable. it was like when you were a child and you got caught doing something wrong, and you knew you were going to get a lecture.

or so you thought.

“I’m fine. it’s only a scratch.”

“don’t tell me you’re fine, you’re bleeding!” he guided you to the couch Carl was previously in, making you sit down.

he disappeared for a moment and then returned with a first aid kit in his hands.

“let me see.” anger was obvious in his voice.

you did not even dare to look him in the eye. it was well known within the group that it was a big mistake to piss off the leader. Rick undid your messy and bloody bandage. you winced at the burning feeling of the air touching your wound.

“how did this happen? did someone hurt you?” he asked still examining your arm.

“NO! not at all! it was an accident. I- uh…” at this point, it was useless to lie to him. after all is said and done, he used to be a cop before all this happened. “I fell running from a few walkers this morning.”

“you what?! I believe I told you not to go outside the walls! It’s dangerous y/n, there are too many threats out there.” the anger previously visible was replaced by another emotion you couldn’t decipher.

Rick kept a white-knuckled grip on the dirty piece of fabric that was minutes ago covering your large gash, his other hand gently holding your wrist.

you hadn’t taken a moment to contemplate the magnitude of the injury until now. to say the least, it was huge. it started a few inches below your elbow and it went all over your forearm to your wrist.

“why do you even care? I’m not your child, Rick.”

“I care ‘cause you’re as much of my family as Carl and Judith are. and I don’t want to lose my family.” he spoke, his voice getting lower as he pronounced the last sentence. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

your frustration with Rick's recent behavior boiled over and you couldn't help but voice your annoyance.

"you've got to be kidding me," you almost whispered, incredulous. "maybe it's because you're too busy trying to impose your will on everyone else here, or maybe it's because you spend the little free time you have left admiring that hairdresser's features. but the fact remains that you haven't been there for me lately, and it's starting to feel like I'm losing my only friend in this world."

your words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the tension between you and Rick palpably. as you looked at him, you could see the hurt in his eyes, and you almost regretted saying anything.

you sighed deeply, feeling humiliated in the face of the seriousness of the problem that had just been brought to your attention by the expression written on Rick’s face.

you began to wonder how you had let things get to this point and what you could have done differently to avoid this situation. perhaps if you had been more proactive in addressing the issue earlier, things wouldn't have come to a head like this.

"there's nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, sweetheart,” Rick spoke softly, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. he continued to bandage your arm, his touch gentle and careful. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you lately. but you have to understand that I'm just trying to keep everyone safe. and as for Jessie... it's not what you think. I'm just trying to move on from everything that's happened."

you nodded, feeling guilty for your outburst. "I know, Rick. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," he said, finishing up with the bandage. "just promise me that you won't go out alone again. we'll go together next time, okay?"

"okay," you agreed, feeling grateful for his concern.

he put away the first aid kit, but he didn't even threaten to get up. both of you remained in your previous position, awkwardly eyeing each other. in moments like this your small bad habit made act of presence.

you could feel the stinging sensation your teeth left in your lip, making you aware that you had been biting your lip for a while. you knew it was an unhealthy habit, still, you frequently found yourself unconsciously doing it.

“if you bite your lip one more time I’m gonna do it for you.” the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, lust present in the man’s face.

as you fixed your gaze on the charming features of the man, you couldn't help but notice the way his hair fell over his face, almost obscuring his handsome features. you observed a drop of sweat slide down his forehead. his eyes seemed to denote a sense of tiredness, reflecting how hard he works to maintain the security of the Alexandrians.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to do. you mustered all your courage and leaned forward. you gave him a peck on the lips to test the waters. you had liked him since the very first moment you met him. the way he carried himself, with authority, which revealed his past as a police officer, drove you crazy.

you pulled back, heart racing as you waited for his reaction. for a moment everything seemed to freeze as you looked at each other, unsure of what to say or do. but then, slowly he leaned in and kissed you back, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

his big calloused hands danced against your neck, pulling you even closer. the intensity of the kiss kept escalating, each movement more passionate than the last. it was as if you were both desperate to feel each other's love, to experience the connection that only the two of you shared.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a warmth in your chest that you hadn't felt in a while. as you pulled away you couldn’t help but think how much you needed this moment of intimacy to make you feel alive. perhaps this was a sign that everything was going to be okay after all.

[mymegumi]

DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ event masterlist

“do you think it’s gonna snow this year?” gojo asks, voice hush in the darkness of your bedroom as he rests his head in his hands, his hands resting flatly on your stomach as you try to watch the movie you have flickering on the television. it’s a classic christmas movie, something gojo had insisted on putting in, but he’s not even paying attention as he looks out the window to the calming night sky.

you hum, head tilting to the side to look outside with him, the nightlife calm and serene for once as you run your hands through the top parts of his hair—fluffy and silky. his eyes are doing that thing, where they almost close before he’s opening them again, indicating a sort of sleepiness that invades the bones. “maybe. why don’t you wish for it for christmas?”

“wishing for things for christmas is for little kids.” he sticks his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, pressing his ear to your chest as he sighs loudly. “my baby thinks i’m a baby.”

“sometimes you act like one.” you muse, looking away innocently as he jolts up from his position with a scandalized look on his face, mouth open wide. there’s a beat, as if he’s waiting for an apology that he’s certainly never going to get before he lays back down, grumbles leaving his lips rapidly. “case in point.”

“whatever.” he turns over now, facing away from you but sticks his head back ever so slightly so he’s still touching you. you’re not sure if he means to, but even if he were upset, he makes sure that the two of you are always touching. “you’re so mean to me.”

you hum contemplatively, hands sifting through his hair idly as you watch the movie without truly watching it. “geto thinks i could be meaner.”

“and he also thinks that the moon is made out of cheese.” gojo retorts, huffing dramatically so his chest rises and falls as he turns his head to look at you through one eye. “so i’m not trusting him as a judge of character.”

“i mean, he was joking, right?”

gojo’s silence is your only answer.

“is it snowing?” you ask a moment later, eyes drifting from whatever scene was happening in the television to the window. you squint and lean forward a little, trying to see if if’s truly snowing out or if you’re just seeing things.

“snow?!” gojo is running to the window before you know what’s happening, nose pressed against the glass and breath fogging up the window as he marvels at the outside. “it’s snowing!! i manifested that shit, do you see it?!”

you’re content to stay in bed, in the warmth of your heated blankets and the soft cozy pillow you’d spent months choosing and the plush mattress that had cost you an arm and a leg to buy, but your darling boyfriend has other plans for you. with a hand gripped on one of your arms, he rips you out of bed with a gleeful shout, pulling you in the direction of the door. the door leading to the outside where it was cold and snowing.

“satoru!” you yelp, narrowly dodging the shoddily made snowball he’s made in the point two seconds you’d looked away. “do not hit me!”

the outside is mostly untouched, save for the few and far between feet marks of dogs and their walkers. there’s about a foot and a half of loose snow outside, which makes making snowballs difficult for your snow-haired boyfriend. he’s got his tongue stuck out as he attempts to press the snow together into a ball shape. “i can’t make this stupid snow work with me!”

“no snowmen tonight, then.” you groan, sitting down in the snow and feeling thankful your boyfriend had made you take out the snow pants from storage the other day.

gojo groans, falling down in a huff next to you before whining and rubbing his ass. while the snow had buffeted your fall, apparently gojo has fallen with a bit of force—meaning he’d have a nice purple bruise on his ass in the morning. “stupid snow. this isn’t at all what i wished for.”

“oh, so you admit you wished for it to snow?” you tease, bumping your shoulder into his with a soft chuckle.

the red of his cheeks is either his embarrassment or the cold winds biting at them, but you’d like to think it was the former. hard to embarrass, you enjoy flustering gojo whenever you can. “i mean—i didn’t not wish for it to snow.”

“you’re so childish.” you laugh, hand grabbing some snow and shoving it onto his reddened cheek, making him swipe at your hand and pull you closer to him through the snow. “but i love that about you.”

“you love all of me, right?” he whispers, eyes searching across your face as he tilts his head to the side. ever the confident man, you suppose he can have his moments of insecurity, too.

you nod, pressing your cold nose against his. “i love you. all of you, gojo satoru.”

“i love you.” he presses his lips to yours gently. “always.”

[glennrheesworld]

Request: ugh anyone x reader but the reader is really shy, and they yell at the reader and the reader cries 😣😣 but comfort and stuff

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲~

genre: angst to fluff pairing: Carl Grimes x reader (gender not specified) summary: Reader goes outside the walls to get Carl a birthday gift but gets injured, making Carl concern. warnings: mentions of blood, yelling, & crying

a/n: sorry for the long wait @dreamtofus, I hope you guys enjoy this request!!

You have always been the shy type, even in an apocalypse infested with the walking dead.

You had grown pretty close with everyone in the group over the past years, but it didn’t make your shyness disappear.

As Carl's birthday approached, you decided to venture outside the walls of Alexandria to find a special gift for him, comic books. Even though you knew it wasn't a great idea, considering the potential threat of Walkers or worse, people, you managed to sneak past the gates without being caught.

The plan was simple. Find a bookstore, get a few comic books, arrive back safe, and wait to surprise Carl until his birthday. You had it all figured out and expected it to go out smoothly. But it didn’t.

Once you had arrived, you were soaking wet from the rain, shivering with chattering teeth, and a small fresh cut on your leg. How did you get it? Well, you fought a few Walkers before tripping over one of them, just to feel the metal of a car part scratch your leg. Your favorite jeans had ripped all thanks to the wet concrete and that damn Walker. But you still got Carl’s gift in your bag.

You had managed to sneak past Daryl near the gates into Carl’s house, which you shared with him. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you slowly sneak past the kitchen, but unfortunately for you, your shoes squeak. Carl turns and spots you, soaked and trembling.

“Babe?” The sound of his voice makes you flinch. “Uh, hey…” You try offering a short smile at him. His eyes trail down from your wet hair to your clothes and finally to the ripped leg of your jeans.

His brows furrowed as he notices the cut on your leg, little blood staining the ripped fabric. “What happened to you? And where were you?” He asks you with confusion and concern.

You stood still, your gaze dropping to the floor as you fist your wet hands to your sides. “I’m okay.” You mumble, staring at your wound, not really feeling much but a tiny sting.

“No, you’re not. You’re clearly bleeding from your leg, what happened!?” Carl’s voice slightly raises, walking towards you. “I… uhm I went outside.” You didn’t really lie, you were outside, outside the walls.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had gone outside Alexandria, fought Walkers, and injured yourself all by getting him a birthday gift. No. You just couldn’t tell him.

Carl’s face scrunch in anger and shock, “You went outside!?” His eyes shift around with furrowed brows, clearly angry that you went outside by yourself. “Are you out of your mind? You went outside the walls and hurt yourself!”

The sudden raise of his voice makes you flinch slightly, your shoulders dropping and eyes glossing. “It's dangerous out there! What if a Walker bit you or what if someone killed you!?” He adds on, turning his head as he points to the door.

Keeping your face down, you sniff. You avoid looking him in the eye as you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. Sometimes you wish you weren’t this sensitive. You sniff again before feeling tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Why would you put yourself in danger? Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive right now—”

“I just wanted to get you a birthday gift,” you let out a small sob, lifting your teary gaze to Carl’s eyes. “I didn't mean to worry you." You bring a cold hand to wipe your tears, feeling frustrated.

Seeing your tears start to fall, Carl's expression softens as his anger disappears. Feeling guilty for being the cause of your tears, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you into a tight hug, not caring if you’re soaked and dripping from the rain. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t cry more.

You nuzzle into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body slowly spread to your body. “I’m sorry, okay?” He softly whispered, his hands around your waist. “It’s too risky out there, you know that.”

Letting out soft cries, you tighten your arms over his back, pulling him closer. He speaks again, pulling away to see your face. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice is gentle with care, compared to a few moments ago.

Carl’s warm hands cup your face, staring into your teary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Carl.” You whisper back, sniffing as he smiles faintly. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.” His blue eyes search yours as you return his smile.

“You mean so much to me, I don’t ever want to imagine losing you.” He then presses his lips to yours, his thumbs caressing the side of your cheeks.

He rests your forehead against yours after pulling away, closing his eyes as he enjoys your presence. “We should get your wound fixed and then get your warm bath ready.” Carl presses a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose before you nod in agreement, now remembering how uncomfortable and sticky your clothes feels.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 17

summary: You finally step outside after days of recovery, but your curiosity leads you into a dangerous situation that nearly takes your life. Why you thought it was smart to let them lower you into the water to catch the well walker, who knows. In a flashback, you and Shane are at a drive-in movie, where his attempts at intimacy clash with your lingering hurt over the Daryl situation, sparking more of Shane’s frustration.

no warnings apply, lmk if I missed any

x flash forward x 

Your curiosity was too strong as you debated going outside into the warm summer air. Like the last few hours of evening sun were beckoning you to come outside. You peek out the window pane on the front door and decide to hell with it. Rick sits at the bottom of the steps as you carefully slip out barefoot onto the porch, the creak of the wood giving you away.

“Ah, hey,” he says quietly, turning towards you while fiddling with his sheriff’s hat, “good to see you up on your feet,”

You smile back and join him, sitting on the second-to-last step. The sun hangs lower in the sky, casting long evening shadows over the farm. You glance around, taking in the surroundings—a beaten-up old barn off to the right, the dirt driveway snaking away through pastures of animals. The peacefulness feels like a distant memory, one you didn’t think you’d find again. You smile to yourself, you’ll definitely be making a trip to the stables when your body can make the journey.

“How’re you?” you ask Rick softly, turning to him, “How’s Carl?”

He smiles warmly to you, “Doin’ just fine, we’re very grateful to Hershel and his family,”

His kindness settles over you like a blanket. Where Lori’s eyes were cold and sharp, Rick’s are gentle and welcoming. You feel comforted in his presence. But before you can say more, footsteps draw your attention to the left. Daryl appears in the distance, his crossbow slung over his shoulder, heading toward the woods.

“Daryl,” Rick calls to him.

Daryl pauses and looks toward the sound of Rick’s voice. He sees you sitting next to him on the steps, and holds your eyes for a long moment while Rick asks, “You okay on your own?”

Daryl’s eyes swivel to Rick as he gets up off the stairs to walk towards him.

“‘m better on ma own,” Daryl calls, turning away again, “I’ll be back before dark,” 

“Hey!” Rick calls to him with more authority in his tone, “we got a base. We can get this search properly organized now,”

“You gotta point or are we just chatting?” Daryl starts approaching Rick. Your eyes roll at his rudeness. He always had such a way with words.

“My point,” Rick continues ignoring the tone, “is it lets you off the hook. You don’t owe us anything,”

You catch his eye as he glances at you, “yeah well, my other plans fell through,” he turns away quickly to the woods. Your brow furrows, confusion filling your head. You knew he was uncomfortable when you said goodbye earlier, but didn’t think it’d made an impact so much he would rather avoid you. Maybe he was just saying that to save face in front of the others, but it still made your mind race with uncertainty.

An older man steps onto the patio then, walking down the stairs, “feelin better?”

You look up to him and realize he’s talking to you, “Uh, yes sir,” you say, uncertain. You realize this must be Hershel, and you quickly stand, holding the railing for support.

“Y/N, this is Hershel, this is his farm. He patched you up when you and…when you got shot,” Rick explains.

“Oh,” you say timidly, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude, “thank you…for everything. Your home is beautiful,” you shake his hand with a small smile.

“You’re very welcome,” he says back, his smile mirroring yours. His tone is gentle but formal.

Rick begins, “we can give you some space,” and Hershel turns his head to listen, dropping your hand, “could set up over by the barn,” 

Hershel shakes his head, descending the stairs. “No need for that. Better you stay close to the house,” he replies, but there’s a shift in his tone. His eyes narrow as he meets Rick’s gaze, standing in front of him now, “But I don’t say this lightly, Rick.”

Rick straightens, sensing something coming.

“We don’t normally take in strangers,” Hershel says, his voice steady but firm. “I can’t have your people thinking this is permanent.”

Rick’s jaw ticks as he listens intently and Hershel continues: “We don’t normally take in strangers. I can’t have your people thinking this is permanent.”

Your heart sinks. The thought of leaving here…leaving this sanctuary of peace. 

“Once you find that girl and when your boy and this woman are fit for travel,” he says, his hand motioning toward you, “I expect you’ll move on,” 

As Hershel walks away, Rick exhales heavily beside you, his shoulders slumping with the weight of it all. He glances at you, offering a small, weary smile before heading off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

—

As you enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face from the porch a little while longer, you watch two people in the distance–you can make out T-Dog’s glistening dark skin in the evening light, his broad shoulders working out the well water. Dale must've been next to him, the Hawaiian shirt and bucket hat unmistakeable. But suddenly Dale is running to T-Dog, knocking something out of his hands. You stand abruptly, a sharp pain stabbing your side. 

“Guys,” you call out to the others at their campsite. A few heads swivel to you, and follow your finger pointing out to the paddock. Dale is making his way over to the group, bee lining to Shane. Dale is tense, talking quickly and pointing to where T-Dog stands. You see them share words, and you can see even from here how Shane’s wide eyes stare out to the well in the pasture.

When they all start making their way to the field, you hurriedly make your way to follow behind them, Glenn eyeing you as you catch up. “I’m fine,” you say softly, but with a sternness to your voice. He just nods and widens his pace to run ahead.

As you approach the open well, the sloshing of water echoes up from its depths, an unsettling sound in the otherwise still air. Peering over the wooden beams that cross the top, your stomach drops at the ungodly sight below. There’s a walker half-submerged in the water, its skin grotesquely swollen and bloated from days, maybe weeks, spent decomposing in the well. Its flesh is stretched tight, a sickly blue hue, waterlogged and decaying. When it senses movement above, its pale eyes snap upward, and it snarls, teeth bared in a mindless rage.

You wince at the sight and look up, only to lock eyes with Shane. His gaze is dark, his jaw clenched. The anger in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“The hell you doin’ out here?” Shane hisses from across the well, his voice barely controlled.

You swallow, feeling the weight of everyone else’s eyes on you. "Wanted to see what it was," you admit quietly.

“You should get your ass back in bed,” Shane growls, the words full of warning, though his gaze never leaves you.

The group is still discussing the walker at the bottom of the well—what to do, how to get it out. They need to get it out alive. Shooting it would contaminate the water. But Shane’s glare is still burning into you, and you can feel his frustration with your presence. Finally, though, he seems to give in, muttering under his breath but allowing you to stay.

“How do we get it out?” Glenn asks, looking between the group.

“Bait,” you say simply.

A piece of raw pork swings down the well with a noose in front of it as Shane tries to entice the walker. But it's no use, and you all seem to have the same horrifying realization at once. Dead bait wasn’t nearly as enticing as live, squirming, screaming bait. Your heart hammers in your chest when they start looking at you. You know what’s coming next.

–

This was a stupid idea. A god damn stupid, stupid plan. Before long, the rope is looped around your waist, and Glenn is tying a snug knot, his hands working fast but carefully. “You’ll be fine,” he assures you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. He looks sincere, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. He was originally going to go down into the well, but you all decided you would be lighter and might have better aim when it came to tying the noose around its neck. To Shane’s constant chagrin, he begrudgingly agreed to you going down, on the agreement he’d be in front pulling the rope to be sure it was held onto tight. 

The rope creaks and strains as they slowly lower you into the well. The air feels heavy and wet, clinging to your skin as you descend. Your breaths come in short, sharp gasps, each one loud in your ears as it bounces off the stone walls, slick with condensation. You press your bare feet against the cold, slimy rocks, trying to keep your balance as they lower you deeper into the well’s darkness.

Should’ve worn shoes. You gripe to yourself.

You look down at the disgusting creature below you. Blue and soggy with streaks of blood coming from it. It’s probably already contaminated the water. 

This was such a stupid idea. 

You swing the noose below your legs, trying to aim for its neck. 

“Little lower,” Maggie’s voice calls down, but just as you look up at the sound of her voice—

Suddenly you’re falling, and you’re falling fast.

You barely hear the other’s screams as your own rip from your throat, piercing the water logged air. You're kicking furiously away from the walker, trying your damnedest to keep your very-ready-to-eat flesh away from it. Your hands clutch the rope so hard it's burning your skin, but you hardly notice, adrenaline surging through your veins. 

The walker is hissing and gurgling, swiping its nasty swollen hands at you. You gasp for air between screams, the stench of death so strong it makes your stomach lurch. 

The pain on your side is so intense, but you grit your teeth down hard. You weren’t going to come down here again, dammit. Your hands fumble around the rope as your whole body shakes with absolute fear, and you find the noose, and pray to god for a short moment. But you steady yourself, Daryl’s voice in your head, aim lower, right there. You hold your breath for a moment and fling it down and across the walker's neck, and pull with every ounce of strength left in you.

You’re screaming again, though you’re not really sure if you ever stopped, honestly. The rope pulls taut, and suddenly, you’re being yanked upward, water splashing around you as your body leaves the well.

When you reach the top, your hands slap down on the wooden beams, your fingers gripping the rough wood so hard you can feel the splinters. Shane lunges for you, grabbing you under the arms as Glenn takes your other side, both of them hoisting you up and over the edge.

You collapse on the dry grass, your chest heaving, lungs burning as you gulp down air. The adrenaline is still pumping, but now that you’re out, the pain in your side becomes a sharp, agonizing throb. You clutch at the wound, your fingers coming away wet with fresh blood.

Shane’s face looms above you, his eyes burning with fury. “I knew this was a goddamn terrible idea,” he snarls. “Sending you down there—knew it.”

Dale stands over you, peering down. “Back to the drawing board,” he mutters, and you let out a breathless, bitter laugh, your body sagging against the grass.

“Says you,” you exhale, barely able to get the words out.

But then, they all fall silent. You glance over, realizing you’d done it. The noose is secured around the walker’s neck. You got the thing, even after all the screaming, after all the fear. They all run to it in a hurry, and begin to cheer as they pull the rope attached to the swimming walker to get it out. 

The relief hits you in waves, washing over your trembling body as you gasp for breath. You did it. But you don’t linger to watch the thing get pulled out of the well. The pain in your side, the exhaustion—it’s all too much. You push yourself to your feet and stumble away from the edge, letting the others handle the rest.

Later, you hear the news: your efforts hadn’t mattered in the end. The walker split clean in half on its way up, its bloated, decaying body too fragile to hold together. All that work, all that fear—for nothing.

x flashback x

It had been a few weeks since your confrontation with Daryl. Your heart felt heavy with the distance between you. You felt like you didn’t know what it was like to breathe without having him close anymore. You felt so angry with him, for letting Shane get between you. But guilt overshadowed any anger, because you knew deep down you had allowed it to happen. Maybe that was why Daryl refused to talk to you–because he was hurt that you allowed this wedge between the two of you. You hadn’t been able to shake the hollow ache in your chest, a sense of loss you couldn’t quite name. 

Classes blurred by during the day, you had trouble focusing. You avoided going out with friends, nervous you’d run into him again. You were ashamed at how badly you wanted to run into him. 

Shane had called one late afternoon, and picked you up just as the sun was going down. He brought the truck to your favorite drive in, the screen flashing with an old 80s movie. As he scrolled through the radio stations to find the one for the movie sound, you saw his eyes peer over to you a few times. When the volume was turned up and you could hear voices in the speakers of the truck, he leaned down to the floor of the passenger side, brushing your legs and pulled two beers from his cooler. 

With a loud sigh, you leaned in closer to him, just how you always sat with him at the theater. He pulled his right leg up onto the seat and you laid in between his knees, head against his chest, looking past the dash to the screen. The night air was cool, and the windows of the truck were cracked just enough to let the breeze in. Shane had been talking about the movie, making little comments, trying to get you to laugh—but all you could think about was Daryl.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he finally said, swigging from his beer.

You shrugged, your fingers tracing the cold glass bottle. “Just… thinkin’.”

Shane shifted behind you you, pulling your chin up to look back at him, “Come on, Y/N. Talk to me. You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks. You’re not yourself.”

You took a slow breath, feeling the lump in your throat. How could you tell him that you missed Daryl? That you hated the way things had ended between you two? Shane wouldn’t understand.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing, averting your eyes back to the screen.

Shane sighed heavily, setting his beer down on the dash, “Don’t give me that. You’ve been down since you started school. This ain’t just about college, is it?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you stared down at the beer in your hands, the ache in your chest tightening. “It’s nothing, Shane. I’m just... tired.”

“Tired?” Shane echoed, his voice sharper now, a note of frustration creeping in. “You’re sittin’ there actin’ like your world’s fallin’ apart, and you expect me to believe you’re just tired?”

Before you could respond, Shane laid his hands on your arms, rubbing them softly. “Look, I’m here, alright? I’m tryin’ to help. But you gotta let me in.”

He was trying to comfort you, to be there for you in a way that felt both familiar and intimate. His hand found your waist, pulling you toward him, his touch firm but not forceful. But you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling inside, the lingering sadness that wasn’t about Shane at all. Or maybe it was about him too.

His lips brushed against the side of your neck, but your body didn’t respond the way it usually did. There was a distance, a block, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull yourself out of the pit you were in.

Shane noticed the hesitation almost immediately. He pulled back, “You’re thinkin’ about him, aren’t you?” His voice was low, tense.

You stiffened, guilt washing over you. “Shane, it’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, “You’ve been actin’ off ever since you left for school. I know it’s got somethin’ to do with him. Boo hoo, he won’t call. I told you you were better off without him,”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. He was right. You couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl—about the way he’d pushed you away over and over again. But his words were still harsh as they clashed in your head.

You could feel Shane’s jaw clenched behind you as he brought you back against him harder, his frustration palpable. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m right in front of you, and you’re still thinkin’ about that asshole.”

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t deny it. “It’s not that simple, Shane.”

Shane leaned back in his seat, jaw tight, but instead of shutting down completely, he spoke again, his frustration clear but his voice softer. “You gotta stop thinkin’ about him, Y/N,” he said, the edge of control creeping into his tone. “He ain’t got nothin’ for you. You’ve got a future—college, a life ahead of you. I keep tellin’ you over and over. He’s just gonna drag you down, keep you stuck in that same mess you’ve always been in. When will you see him for what he really is?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Shane cut you off, his hand gripping you across your front gently but firmly. “I’m the one who’s lookin’ out for you. You think Daryl’s gonna give you a future? No. I’m tryin’ to protect you, to keep you from endin’ up like him. Like trailer trash.”

The words hit you hard, again and again, but Shane’s gaze was steady, almost pleading as you looked up at him with misty eyes. His gaze softened, his thumb lightly rubbing your skin, "You gotta trust me on this. You deserve better than that life." His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to agree, waiting for you to let go of Daryl for good.