#you know Rick's in a coma

[itsgrimeytime]

@imaginemyfavoritefics

The Nurse (Part Ten) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf @mcuclintasha @8crazy-freak8 @peepeepoopoobutt @crazyunsexycool @moneyoverl0v3 @alixxhere @allthetroubleiveseen @dxrkymxrchy

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, angst, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), gunshot wounds, swearing, coma mention, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: This gif is was SOOOO hard to find. But the vibes properly address this newest part. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it was necessary. Hopefully, this will make it better :) Thanks for reading !!!]]

"I win!" Carl grinned, crossing through the x's on the grid with a sort of satisfaction -a brightness in the otherwise dim room, curtains drawn and machines beeping.

You hummed, peering over the paper with an exaggeratively questioning brow, "Did you, really? Let me see-"

"Fair and square," he spoke -defensive and puffing up his chest ever so slightly.

Handing the paper to you, your eyes slinked over the grid -tucking your pen back into the scrub pocket with a soft smile, "Hmm, I guess you did! Fair and square."

Carl smiled to himself, running off to Shane -who stood by the door, eyes laid heavy on the hospital bed. He was eagerly pointing, and nearly jumping up and down -Shane with ease knelt down to get a good look at what he wanted to show him.

"You-" Lori spoke, suddenly at your side -her mouth hidden behind her hand, "-You'd tell me, if it wasn't good, right?"

You took a glance at the IV, making the note to replace it soon, before turning to the woman -lowering your voice, "Of course, Mrs. Grimes. It's just. It's too early for any news at all."

"And the-" she started, swallowed, as her voice echoed shakily, "-the fluttering behind the eyes?"

"It's something pretty run of the mill," you answered -regretfully, "-patients in a comatose state can have some instinctual movements, muscle spasms, it's not... It's not conclusive."

"Right," she echoed -exhaling a sort of shaky breath out of her lungs, "-I guess I just- I don't know what to do. What... What would you do?"

"Ma'am-"

"Please," she voiced -tone thick but intentional, "-call me Lori."

"Lori," you corrected -heavy and trying to guide her, "-I can't make that decision for you. But-"

You turned her attention to her son, as he seemed to be recounting the game of tic-tac-toe to Shane -all happy, bright, hopeful energy, "-It's too early to let him lose what he has."

"Hope," she answered -a little desolate in tone, and you could tell she'd already lost it but Carl... Carl hadn't.

"And," you added with a bit of a laugh, "-if Rick's as stubborn as you say, I'm sure he wouldn't go down without fighting."

Lori smiled, hand tender on his -fingertips rubbing at the ring that stayed there, "He wouldn't."

"So, hold on for him," you echoed, placing a single hand on her shoulder, "-okay?"

That evening, when the visiting hours closed, you checked up his room -quickly switching out his IV and running through his vitals. You don't remember when it had started, but you'd begun talking to him -maybe it was because of Carl, the bright boy that was so sad. You weren't sure.

Flipping through his clipboard, you spoke, "Looking good, Grimes. Let's keep you breathing today, hmm?"

Roaming closer, you watched the beating of his heart -steady and consistent. Noting that you moved over to another monitor -one with his brain activity. It was a bit of a confusing sight to anyone who couldn't read it, but there was a spike -good. Never dipping.

"Dreaming well?" you smiled, scooting back and taking him in -laid completely motionless, and the flowers by his bedside still vibrant. It was always a sight that twisted your heart, even after the times you'd seen it before.

Something so desperate about the dark room and the beeping machines -lights a mere flicker. It was lonely, most of all, and part of you wished he'd had warm dreams. Cliche meadows, smiling, and family memories-

"Rick," you echoed, sitting into a chair -the one right next to him, "-I just want you to know that you have a wonderful family waiting for you here. But I-"

His chest moved in a rhythm, up and down.

"-I don't know how long they can wait."

Part of you wished to see anything different upon his face, anything, but there was nothing. He was still the same, curls tenderly brushed to the back of his head, and ring glimmering in the lights of the monitors.

"So," you cleared your throat -wiping at your eyes (this job never got any easier), "-just try and wake up soon, yeah? For them."

There was a whiteness that took over your mind then, bright beyond belief, and a sting flushing over your skin, hurt -dousing it in what felt like ice-cold water. Like you'd fallen to the ground, the concrete ground-

"Hey, hey-" there was a voice, one you recognized, brown eyes and long hair -Daryl, "-ya with me?"

There was a searing pain in your shoulder (the right one -your mind meekly noted) so overwhelming that it felt like your mouth couldn't work. It was like the sting of a million bees, nerve endings firing off -you couldn't see straight.

"I-" you tried, but it broke off -curling into some sort of slurred speech as it peaked in pain. Was this what it felt like to die?

Something in your brain was firing, as you tried to gather your words -fighting against the instinct, blinking back tears, "He... missed...?"

It was all breathy, and slurred, but you saw them pass over an understanding on his face -still somehow able to understand, "Yea, just- just hit y'er shoulder."

"Fuck," you echoed, flinching as the words seethed through your teeth, "-does not feel like just my... shoulder-"

Daryl merely looked over you, hands lifted and suddenly so bloody -it made your head spin. You were used to it, but not to yourself. You weren't usually the patient, not like this-

"I don't see anythin' else-"

"O-Okay," you swallowed back a groan, maybe even a scream, "-can you just put-"

Without a warning, his hands came to your shoulder -pushing (stopping the blood, something in your head remarked). You bit your lip so harshly that you tasted iron, "Shit, maybe warn me next time-"

"'Sorry," he retorted, fairly bland -but you could see the panic in his eyes.

You laughed, even though it hurt -each exhale met with a harsh inhale, "No you're not."

Daryl let out the smallest of smiles, and you counted it somewhat as a win. Even then, until your ears focused in, honed in on an extra voice.

"Shoot me, sheriff-" he echoed -grating on your ears, "-shoot me."

"What's-" you started -breaths heavy and eyes woozy, "-where's Rick? What's happening-"

"Breathe-" Daryl echoed, tone gruff and straightforward, "-you can't move like 'at."

"What's..." you took a deep breath in -quick and rushed, "-what's happening? Daryl, tell me-"

The world was getting spotty, white splotches smeared in your vision -it seemed so easy to sleep then, to rest your eyes. But your heart was racing against your chest, heavy beats echoing even larger than life, was he okay-

It wasn't worth it, if he was hurt -had he been shot? You couldn't stand it-

"Hey, hey, sweetheart-" a new face detailed in your face, blue eyes -you inhaled a gasp, "-I'm here, I'm here."

"Are you-" you spoke through ragged breaths, "-are you... okay? Are you hurt-"

Rick sighed -tears were in his eyes, you could see them, "I'm fine. 'Should be worryin' 'bout yourself."

You inhaled -a shaky sort of breath, as Daryl's hands stayed pressured -the sear of the pain so stinging that your head spun. But you stayed, trying desperately to stay present, to stay with him.

Distantly, you felt this might be it. You didn't want to miss him now -not now.

"Bandage," you spoke, through the heavy breaths -labored, working so hard to merely speak, "-somethin', something to wrap it with. Bleeding... stop the bleeding-"

"I kno'," he responded, quick as his hands moved to the ends of his shirt, "-I kno'. Just stay with me, 'kay? Keep y'er eyes on me."

He was rushing, a distant rip echoing through your head -he was using his shirt, you guessed. You merely followed the movement, eyes languid on his face -memorizing the push of his brow, the pull of his mouth. Despite the pain, something so wonderful about him being there -right in front of you.

"I missed you," you spoke -slurred and oh-so tired. But it felt necessary, built up deep in your chest -wonderous feeling busting at the center of your ribs.

Rick, who was busy with the fabric of his shirt, turned his eyes to you -blue eyes set upon you like you were the only thing in the world, "-I missed ya too, darlin'. Let me help you for once, 'kay?"

He mumbled something to Daryl, replacing the pressure with the tight wrapped fabric -your breath hissed out, flinching ever so lightly at the shift in feeling. Rick flicked to you for a second, eyes doused in a sort of deep concern -gently smoothing over your skin.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. 's gonna hurt-"

"I kno'," you spoke, muffled and murmured. You were so tired.

"Hey, hey-" he started, tiltin to meet your eyes -hand soft against your skin, guiding, "-stay with me."

"Rick," you hummed -pain a mere deafened noise in the back of your head, "-just so tired. I'm tryin'-"

"I kno', I kno', sweetheart," he echoed, a beautiful sort of thrum against your skin, "-just a lil' longer. Why don't you tell me somethin', anythin'-"

"I remember you, in the-" you interrupted, tone limp but still there, "-in the hospital. I used to talk to you then-"

"Did ya?" Rick responded, moving around and you could feel it. It all blurred to the background, "-what about?"

"Depends," your eyes scattered along his face, "-sometimes told you to wake up, and other times just complainin' 'bout somebody. There used to be- There used to be this lady, came in everyday. I'm so sure she hated me-"

"Really, you?" he hummed, "-Imma pick ya up, okay? Get you where you can get some help-"

"Tried to complain that I was flirtin' with 'er husband," you murmured -the shake of your head as he gathered you up, pulling you close to his chest, "-was jus' bein' nice."

"Were you? Flirtin'?"

"No," you stressed, a little defensively, head leaning against his chest -the deep thrum of his heart rumbling against your skin, "-no, you kno' that."

"I do," he echoed -tone fond and it sent something warm down your spine, "-don't I."

And maybe your head was a little woozy, but you couldn't hold it back then -all slurred words and white splotches in your vision. The thrum of his heart beating you a lullaby, your eyes found themselves is a bleary haze.

"I love you, you know 'at."

And maybe he said something in response, you felt the rumble in his chest. But you... you hadn't felt safe enough to sleep in awhile, and gathered up in his arms -a familiar woodsy smell surrounding you, you had. It was like a bubble there, all cooped up with the pain a distant thrash, and somewhere deep in your head, you knew he'd keep you safe.

With that final thought, your eyes drifted shut.

[fireside-fanfics]

Meant to Be

No one could’ve predicted it. Not Carol, not Rick, not even Peach herself. They were different in just about every way. Daryl, rough around the edges, withdrawn, always on alert like a coiled snake ready to strike. Peach, on the other hand, was warm and outgoing, her humor and kindness lighting up even the darkest corners of their makeshift family.

But beneath that sunny exterior, she was a force to be reckoned with. A former Air Force soldier, she was as skilled in combat as she was in fixing up their broken-down weapons and scavenged vehicles. She had Rick’s back since day one when they stumbled across each other outside the hospital when he woke up from the coma. When they found his family and the group came together, she never hesitated to fight for them.

Daryl hadn’t expected to click with Peach the way he did from the moment they met that first day. When Rick first brought her in, vouching for her like she’d been with him since he woke up, Daryl had kept his distance, but it didn’t last long. Trust wasn’t something he normally handed out easy, but Peach? She’d effortlessly wormed her way into the group—into him—without even trying. And now, everyone could see it, even if they hadn’t figured it out for themselves yet.

It had been subtle at first. Hunting together, keeping watch at night, an occasional shared cigarette when the world quieted down just enough. Peach never pushed him to talk, but she never let him stew in silence either. When Daryl needed space, she gave it; when he needed to be pulled back, she did that too. He respected her, and in return, she saw the parts of him that no one else did. The careful way he handled Judith. The way he kept an eye on everyone even when they weren’t looking. The way his shoulders relaxed just a little when she was near.

By the time they reached Alexandria, everyone already knew. Daryl and Peach just hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Bet you five bullets he finally kisses her before the week’s out,” Glenn had whispered to Maggie one night as they sat around a fire.

“I’ll take that bet,” Maggie chuckled. “Peach is gonna make the first move I’m positive.”

But neither of them made a move. Not yet.

One night, the group had taken watch shifts around the outskirts of Alexandria, knowing that just because they were inside walls didn’t mean they were safe. Peach and Daryl were stationed together at a lookout post, sitting in the bed of an abandoned truck just outside the gate. The night was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a walker shuffling through the woods beyond the walls.

Peach pulled her jacket tighter around her, glancing at Daryl as he cleaned his crossbow.

“Y’know,” she started, “I think this is the longest I’ve gone without almost dying.”

“Don’t jinx it, doll,” Daryl huffed a small laugh but kept his eyes on his weapon.

She smirked. “You don’t actually believe in that stuff, do you?”

“Ain’t about belief.” Daryl shrugged and continued cleaning his bow. “Just know better than to tempt fate.”

“Well, if fate’s got it out for me,” Peach leaned back, tilting her head toward the sky, “I’d at least like to go out in a way that’s worth it.”

Daryl frowned at that, finally looking up at her. In a serious tone, he answered, “Ain’t nobody goin’ out if I got somethin’ to say about it.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

Peach met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them. She leaned over and tussled his hair, laughing at how he cursed at her. In retaliation, Daryl snatched the pillow she used to rest her head on the window and threw it back in her face. He relished in the way she squealed with laugher. Soon the pair settled back into their quiet routine; they played their usual games to pass the time.

The next morning, the group set out for a supply run. Peach and Daryl naturally paired off, as they always did, moving through an abandoned grocery store with careful precision. Peach had just finished loading her pack with canned goods when she heard Daryl’s low whistle. She turned to find him crouched near an old metal toolbox, prying it open with his knife.

“Jackpot,” he muttered, holding up a handful of tools.

“You know how much I love a good wrench.”

Daryl smirked but didn’t respond right away; instead, he held out a small multitool, pressing it into her palm. “Figured you’d get more use outta this than me.”

She stared at it for a moment before slipping it into her pocket with a small smile. “Thanks, Daryl.”

He just nodded, moving past her but not fast enough because Peach still caught the slight twitch of his lips—the closest thing to a smile he’d given in days. Daryl called after her, telling her to hurry up so they could go back. She chased him and jumped on his back; Daryl carried her back to his bike, gently sitting her on it. She smiled warmly at him as he clasped her helmet.

Peach wrapped her arms firmly around him after he mounted the bike. Daryl surprised her with what he did next; he took her hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. This wasn’t exactly new or uncommon, but gestures like this only happened on the rare occasion that they were on missions like this alone.

Peach was happy he couldn’t see how dark her cheeks blushed. She hugged him tightly, hand grazing his torso over his shirt. A grin plastered across her face when she felt his core flex under hand. She relished in moments like this when they could move so freely together. He revved the bike’s engine and tapped her thigh; it was his way of asking if she was ready. She gently squeezed his bicep to signal she was ready; and then they took off down the road at steady pace.

It wasn’t until one night a several days later, when Daryl was working on his bike just outside the walls of Alexandria, that things finally fell into place. Peach had wandered over, as she always did, plopping down beside him and handing him a beer she’d managed to scavenge earlier that day.

“You’re gonna screw up the carburetor if you keep messing with it like that,” she teased, nudging him with her knee.

Daryl huffed but didn’t argue; instead, he took a long swig of the beer and handed it back to her.

“Ain’t like we got a damn mechanic shop to get it fixed anyway,” he finally grumbled.

“Good thing you’ve got me then,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Daryl glanced at her, the firelight flickering against her face. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between Hershel’s farm, the prison walls, and the long road to Alexandria, Peach had become more than just another member of the group. More than just someone to watch his back. She was his person.

She caught him staring and arched a brow before muttering, “What, Daryl?”

“S’nothin’.”

Daryl looked away, clearing his throat. Peach smirked, setting the beer down before turning to face him fully.

“Bullshit,” she chuckled lightly. “I can hear you thinking.”

He scoffed, but before he could come up with something to push her away, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist. It was a small touch, but it sent heat racing up his arm. He didn’t pull away, which gave her the reassurance she needed to continue.

“I know what this is.” Her voice softer and slow as she held his hand. Daryl stiffened, but he didn’t let go when she intertwined their fingers. “And I know what you’re afraid of... You don’t have to worry about anything, Daryl. I just need to know if I’m wrong—if this isn’t what you want.”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He squeezed her hand to ground himself and she rubbed her thumb across her back of his hand. His eyes flicked to hers—amber meeting brown, guarded meeting unyielding. And then, finally, he shook his head.

“You ain’t wrong, doll.”

“Good,” Peach exhaled, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was hesitant, rough around the edges, just like him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And for once, Daryl didn’t pull away.

From that moment on, there was no more denying it. The world was still broken, still cruel, but here, in this tiny stolen moment, there was something good. Something worth fighting for; and for the first time in a long time, Daryl Dixon didn’t feel like he was fighting alone.

[midniqhtt]

rick grimes

masterlist • the walking dead • 03/27/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 gossip I @lilgoblinbitch

rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

𑣲 drabble I @murdrdocs

𑣲 what was supposed to be our last night I @specialagentlokitty

𑣲 request I @dollfacefantasy

𑣲 when you love him part 2 I @itsgrimeytime

𑣲 when he clarifies things I @/itsgrimeytime

𑣲 when your his rock I @/itsgrimeytime

𑣲 feelin' flirty I @/itsgrimeytime

Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

𑣲 i know i got him I @/itsgrimeytime

Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

𑣲 the life we could've had I @/itsgrimeytime

Rick knows you're gone, he does. He just keeps seeing you in everything -the distant smell of coffee in the morning, or the sand beneath his toes (when he finds himself on a beach.) And as he tried to scrub what pain he felt out of his head, he wondered just when he could see you again.

𑣲 the nurse I @/itsgrimeytime

Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

𑣲 little one had other plans I @cultofdixon

Timing is never perfect when it comes to babies coming into the world. Rick just wished the group wasn’t…homeless when his baby decided to make an entrance

𑣲 time I @myanmy

You just got to Alexandria and are settling in, however Rick seems to have forgotten he has a girlfriend.

𑣲 three days too long I @inthe-dark-tonight

you wake up to a surprise after rick comes back from a three day long supply run

𑣲 rest I @weretheones

Some days, it felt like the weight of the world rested on Rick’s shoulders. The night after the farm fell was no exception.

𑣲 untied I @/weretheones

After months of friendship, Rick’s suddenly started avoiding you. You decide enough is enough and confront him.

𑣲 mean!rick I @gxtitobxby

𑣲 request I @grimesgirll

𑣲 request I @movidita

𑣲 dreamy I @paradisedixon

you’re tired of having to ask everyone for supplies after shane forbid you from going on runs for no reason, so you ask the next best man for permission.

𑣲 sweetheart I @virginsexgod69

𑣲 out of reach I @happy74827

Finding the right moment is a hard thing to do. Especially when it involves the man who's in charge.

𑣲 consequences I @catt-leya

You want to be close to Rick. Closer than just cuddling.

𑣲 bloodletting I @collecting-stories

reader gets shot in season two instead of carl

𑣲 where is she? I @thatfanficstuff

𑣲 sticky note I @ficnation

[onlydemonz]

Beneath The Surface || TWD x Fem!Surgeon!Reader

A/n: Before more information about this fanfic is revealed, I'd like to mention that this fanfic is the ENTIRE “The Walking Dead” series. Starting at the very beginning before season 1 when Rick is shot. Each book is a season and each episode is a chapter. I’m rewriting something that’s already been made, but adding you, the reader inside. Basically changing the story altogether into a kind of massive porn with plot.  You are the center of attention for quite a few different men but this is more of a Rick X Reader. Most likely some Daryl too.  Might be some fallin’ in love. I don't know how long this series will be, but every chapter so far has LOTS of words. It was made completely out of enjoyment. It's very fun to write and I hope it’s very fun to read. Summaries are teasers. There’s so MUCH MORE happening in these chapters, trust.

p.s. You have specific outfits tailored to the character you currently are. I'm not sure if that would be self explanatory but I was thinking of allowing ya'll to just figure out what your wearing but makes it easier on me just to design an outfit instead. Don't worry you're not wearing horrible clothes as you are a boujee bitch <3

18+! Adults ONLY!

Chapter One Summary: You are, [First/Name], [Last/Name]. A 24 year-old surgeon with a deep dark rooted secret in a small town hospital in Georgia. The best in the business. Knowing your worth, you are very into yourself. You don’t follow rules nor do you obey laws (except for medical ones. Sometimes.) A troublemaker turned surgeon. A damn good one, though. One day, a cop is rushed to your hospital. You are quick on the job and perform surgery on him. After resting for a while, you check up on the patient. However, you realize he might be in a coma.

Word Count: 6,294

Chapter One Content/Warnings: hurting your pretty lungs with cigarette smoke, age gap, drugs, strong language, violence, Boujee Egotistical Reader, slow burn (if anymore should be added for this chapter, please let me know)

Chapter One - Before The Fall

Harrison Memorial Hospital

About a Month Before

You lean against the outer wall of the ‘Harrison Memorial Hospital Emergency Entrance’, taking a deep drag of your Marlboro Gold cigarette. There’s a sign right above you, warning you to not smoke 15 feet within the property or be faced with fines. As if that’d scare you out of your smoke break, the toxic narcotic tar is filling your pretty lungs and harboring your actions as you inhale the fumes. Closing your eyes, your mind begins to wander as you pleasantly savor the taste of the cigarette.

A  memory fades into your brain as you exhale a puff of smoke. The other day, while tending to a random patient, something strange happened. This particular patient had just gotten back from a business trip in France, falling ill shortly after returning from his corporate mission.

The man mentions that after settling into his home and finally relaxing, he hoped  it’d just pass. Using do-it-yourself remedies, which did nothing after all. His condition worsened in your care as you observed his symptoms. Profusely sweating buckets. He needed several blankets even though his temperature was through the roof. The man insisted that it was a cold but everything about his condition told a different story. When you’d ask him how he felt he’d say, “S-sitting in fuckin’ Antartica with n-nothin’ on but my damn trousers. That’s how I f-fuckin’ feel..” His jaw chattering, old orangish-brown plaque buildup on his teeth.

As the hours passed, his face turned ghostly white. He wouldn’t eat;  had an IV in him most of the time, but when you came back to check up on him, he had faded away. Died. Nothing was going. Just like that. 

You had never seen such a live decomposition before. Once you removed the blanket around his body to see if he had bruises of any kind, he was basically skin and bones by that time. In fact, you hadn't notice before but your eyes caught his veins protruding and pushing through his skin. Almost like they were inflamed and pulsating. Are…are they moving? You thought to yourself, your eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

Suddenly, in your peripherals, his fingers began twitching. Quickly, you stepped backwards, the man unable to grab you, fell out of the bed instead. Ripping the catheter from the dorsum of his hand, he landed hard on the concrete with a thud followed by a sickening crack. The nurse with you gasped a sharp breath. Her eyeballs were wide as she watched this sudden attack from this patient, who was pronounced dead just a moment ago; almost trying to take a chunk out of your skin made her run for the hills, leaving you alone with a dangerous homicidal psychopath. What a fucking coward…

Wasting no time at all, you grabbed the IV stand, held it laterally and used it to shield yourself as best as you could. Snarls rumbled from his throat as he picked himself back up, staring you down and ready to probably tear into you. Blood seeped down his face and soaked parts of his hair. He had you cornered, but you swayed the IV stand in a rhythmic motion, ready for that fucker to strike again.

He lunges at you! Luckily, you were much more prepared to take him on. You stood your ground and kept a steady foot as you aimed just right for both his hands to grip the IV stand with all his might. He was strong. Savagely bit at your hands as you squinted your eyes and turtlenecked as much as you could. Every time he hissed at you, stinky blood and mouth secretions flung into the air. Nothing you could dodge so most of those fluids ended up on you. Spit and mixture of blood dripped down your exposed arms and hands. Between your fingers and coated your fingernails. It was so fucking disgusting. 

This part in particular of the memory always makes  you shutter.

At this point, the man overpowered you a little. He stood over top of you with hungry yellowish pale blue parasitic eyes as he continued to clench the sides of the stand with weird hidden strength. Veins in his neck bludged; because of the angle however, more of his spit and blood fell onto you. It oozed down your face and you were really pissed off about that. Are you actually fucking kidding me right now? You thought.

Finally! There! There was your opportunity!

Right between his legs was an opening; tired of the back and forth you took the initiative to end it and swiftly rammed your foot into his knee.  It caused him to become immobilized for a few seconds. Within that time, you yanked the IV stand from his grip and smashed it against his head, in the same spot he already profusely bled from.

The body fell to the floor. Its limbs twitched as he tried to persist his attacks on you. Expanded his old hand out, hissing and snarling. The multiple blunt force trauma to his head impaired him from doing any more harm. When your co-workers arrived to your aid, they stood at the door and stared wide eyed at the situation. You had taken care of it yourself; a bloodied, twitching body laid by your feet. A puddle of blood surrounded both of you. Your sneakers were painted with the crimson liquid.

After the incident, you were quickly called into the Administrative Board. Where you were offered to keep everything to yourself and not speak a single vowel of what conspired in that room to anyone. If you agreed, you’d be handsomely compensated. You had questions though, but they assured you that it was all okay and there was absolutely no need to tell any individual any information. No one would find out about this incident. They had it completely under control. 

The few nurses who did witness the scene had left the hospital entirely. Even that pussy nurse was long gone. Hell, the Board even kissed your ass and commended how well you handled yourself during the altercation.

What did it really matter to you? Barely knowing the man who died and the nurses…well, the nurses are replaceable. You admired all their hard work and effort, yes, but when they had to go, there was always someone willing to take their position in a heartbeat.

 You shrugged your suspicions aside and shortly took the offer with no further doubts in mind. Signed your ‘soul’ away and as promised, sweetly remunerated for it too. The compliments were a bonus. 

Sometimes, when enjoying the luxuries of your recently attained wealth, you couldn’t help thinking about where they could have gone and why they left so suddenly. Especially that nurse. Was she really so frightened? Left that very same day she ran out on you, never seeing her again. Whatever happened that day was indeed the most shocking thing you had ever experienced. Sure, you had questions but the money…the fucking money was worth it. 

Besides, a new set of nurses took the empty spots of those who had vanished. It truly did not matter to you. You still had more money than you could ever think of getting by doing this job. However, your reputation seemed to have changed slightly with the townspeople. You continued to hold the position of being the most credible and most beautiful woman around, but living in a small town such as King County had its advantages and its disadvantages. One of these disadvantages would be the rumors. The eyes and gossip. Lots of it. Especially about you. 

The talk of you getting some quick, cold cash swarmed around town as fast as you drove your new car in the streets. Named brand clothes, taking long trips to Atlanta and returning with luxurious and expensive materialistic things. Not only did you buy a new car but you bought four new cars. Each one you had driven around the town at least once. Additionally, you moved out of your old reeking apartment and somewhere into the dark almost endless forest.

It was hard not to notice the townspeople's local surgeon waltz into the high end luxury jewelry store; treated yourself with new pearl earrings and shiny rings as you drove off into the forest in your expensive car. Yet, here you are. Staying in a small town like theirs. Why?

The townies never understood, never asked either. Only backbiting. Saying now, it's because you have some sugar daddy or secret lover residing in this rural town of theirs.

Sirens wail in the distance, pulling you out of your head and towards the sign entrance of the gate. There you see an ambulance driving up, placing its rear end to the emergency entrance of the hospital. The paramedic quickly turns off the shrill sound and rushes to the back to help bring the patient into intensive care. Another paramedic and a cop with worry clear as day on his face, assist bringing the patient out of the van. A brown haired man lays unconsciously on the stretcher as the paramedics start to wheel him into the hospital. He looks familiar…You think to yourself. He is also wearing the same deputy cop uniform. What’s he doing here? A case gone wrong? You aren’t sure what he’s here for but you know for a fact, that you have seen that man on the stretcher before. Your eyes widened, thinking the worst possible scenario as you quickly put out your cigarette, slip into your pristine lab coat and follow after them.

“What’s his condition?” You ask, catching up frantically in your two inch pointed pumps, now flanked by two nurses. All three of you hurry alongside the paramedics and the other cop down the hallway. Following the guidance of one of the nurses who took lead, you all swiftly accessed an empty surgical room and inaugurated preparations.

Before the cop could reach the corridor with the others, a stand by nurse promptly stops him from advancing any further since it is an authorized personnel only area. “I’m sorry sir, but you can’t come through here. You’d have to wait in the waiting room.” He watches as you disappear behind closed doors. The nurse gently places her hand on his shoulder, trying her best to reassure him. 

“Shit…! Just…lemme see’em…” he pleads softly, a defeated tone seeping through his voice. Breathing in deeply, he makes his way over to the waiting room, shuffling the nurse’s hand off his shoulder. The nurse watches him with a long face, then turns around and goes back to her duties.

He takes a seat and sighs heavily. His heart hurts so much, it pounds in his ears. He sets both his hands onto his face, clenching his jaw as he grinds his teeth. He’s frustrated. Hell, angry! Frustrated that his friend and his family will be going through this. Angry that they train a million fucking times, yet are never prepared enough! Another long exasperated sigh leaves his chest as he puts his hands down and stares up at the blinding white hospital lights above him.

“I should be the one to tell her…”mumbling quietly to himself as he pulls out his cellphone, looking down at it now and dials a number. After a few moments, someone picks up from the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey Lori, it’s me…” He straightens up and takes his phone call outside.

Two paramedics lift the man off the gurney and onto the bed, wheeling it out of the way after to make room. A pair of nurses then start removing his shoes and pants first, preparing him for surgery. After they did so, one of the paramedics gives you the rundown about the heavily injured man. You look down at him as she speaks.

“This patient’s name is Richard D. Grimes. Also known as Rick Grimes. He’s our local sheriff deputy for King County,” your eyes flash towards his nametag, still strapped on his bloodied outer uniform layer, now being removed by the nurses, “was shot near his armpit area with a pistol while on duty.” She states, while handing you the clipboard with his information. 

However, you take notice of the bulletproof vest being stored away with the rest of his belongings. Raising an eyebrow, you mention something that was quite odd to you. “He had a vest on.” 

The paramedic just shrugs, motioning for you to take the clipboard, which you do as she takes her leave but not before saying, “the vest didn’t protect around the particular area. He was actually shot before that and the vest saved him. Wasn’t so lucky the second time.” She mentions, opening the door to exit the surgical room.

“Wait, before you go,” she stops and looks back at you, “who’s the cop that was following us? Is he the one that gave you this information?” You question, making the paramedic hold open the door slightly, trying to get back to the rest of her team.

“His name is Officer Shane Walsh. He works with the patient and was the one who tried to stop his bleeding. Officer Walsh is the informer. Apparently close.” Figured as much…

“Okay, thank you. You can go now.” You reply, waving your hand at the paramedic. She huffs and leaves the room. You skillfully scan through his notes on the clipboard, all nurses and anesthetists present, ready for surgery to commence. You place the board on the counter, and wash your moisturized hands, slipping them into latex gloves. “Alright, let’s begin.”

After about two hours later, the procedure is complete and Rick, still unconscious, is sent to the South Wing for recovery. You sigh deeply and remove your bloodied gloves. “Great work everyone.” You say, which is always truthful. You wholeheartedly appreciate all the difficult work your team has to do in the hospital. You just do most of the heavy lifting.

You nod your head at each of your colleagues as they return the gesture while leaving the operating room almost single file. The gloves are thrown into the trash along with the rest of the no-longer sterilized supplies.

In your office a few hours later, you sit exhaustively in your executive chair. Giving yourself a small break from the constant moving around, questions, body parts, etc. A weary breath escapes your lungs and you close your eyes, taking a deep inhale in.

Everything is hazy and bright. Something fades into your view as you look down at your body. Pale naked biceps wrap around you with delicate force as a nose lovelying plays with the locks of your hair. A voice whispers into your ear, tickling you, blush creeping onto your cheeks and you breathe in sharply from how his breath felt against you. “...You are so fucking pretty…” 

You open your eyes slowly. Painted lips apart, breath hitching. You blink a few times as you see that you're facing the ceiling. Heat has already risen to your face and noticeably between your legs. Just the thought of him drives me crazy… You think to yourself, absently biting your bottom lip in excitement to the old memory that started resurfacing in your mind. 

There on your desk, laid the clipboard you had brought to your office earlier. You pick it up and go through his information again, considering you weren’t able to get a good look before.

Richard D. Grimes. Preferred nickname: Rick Grimes. Deputy Sheriff of King County, Georgia. Marital status: Married. One child, a boy.

Yup, this is him. The Rick Grimes. Below are his emergency contacts and he actually listed a few people. And what do you know? One of them is his wife, Lori Grimes. Still married to her, bet their boy has gotten older too.

Suddenly, a voice cracks through the door with a small knock followed after. “Excuse me, Doctor (Last Name)?” You’re yanked from the clipboard and thoughts of Rick as you set the clipboard on the very far side of your desk, away from any eyes that might see. “Yes? Come in.” You say, spinning your chair slightly to face the door as the nurse enters your office.

“There’s a woman here that would like to speak with you about…” she takes a glance at the file in her hand, “Rick…Grimes? The patient with the gunshot injury in the South Recovery Ward. Says she’s his wife.”

“Yes, of course. She just wants to know how he’s doing. Did you tell her already?” You ask, standing up and walking out of the comfort of your office besides the nurse to see Rick’s wife.

“Well…I wasn’t sure what to tell her. Said I would ask you…” She mentions nervously, biting her lip as you stop and give her a skeptical expression.

“Hasn't he shown any signs of consciousness?” Questioning her as you hold out your hand for his file, expecting there to be more info about him in it.

“He’s not responding to anything we have tried. He doesn't seem to be conscious at all. We believe he might be in a coma.” She blurts out, almost complete certainty in her voice.

“A coma? Fuck…” you mutter. Never expected that you’d see Rick here like this. Never thought that when you’d finally meet again that he’d be in a potential coma. “Let me see the patient before I talk to his wife. Tell her to give me a moment.” you scurry off to Rick’s room. The unit he is put in is a quiet one. Not many nurses around but enough to keep all patients atteneded for.

You stand outside his door and knock gently. No response, so you open the door and peek your head inside. No one but the unconscious man lying on the bed. Not moving or looking around. You let yourself inside his room and close the door behind you. 

He just lays there. The iridescent light above him, shining down like he was a princess. Like, a manly, shot up version of sleeping beauty. Awaiting his true love’s kiss to break the spell. The only thing taking from this are the machines, tubes, and cords hooked up in and on his body and…you know…the possible coma.

You walk up to him, taking a stethoscope off the holder and wrapping it on your shoulders. Then you take your hand and slowly lift the top hem of his gown. You usually wear gloves, but it’s different with Rick. Yeah, you might know him. You know that he understands more than anyone else. So, you gently push your hand into his gown and against his masculine, warm, toned chest as it rises and falls from his steady breathing. Placing the diaphragm of the stethoscope above his heart. You part your lips. A raspy breath leaves your mouth as one of your fingers graze against his bare chest.

…Thump…Thump…Thump…

Beat is consistent. A little faint but it’s definitely there. You move the Diaphragm around his chest until it lands nicely on his right lung and then his left lung.

…Inhale…Exhale…Inhale…Exhale…

Okay, his breathing seems to be normal too. You lean down to his level, getting close to his face, mere inches from yours. Taking a little medical flashlight out of your lab coat, you beams its substantial light into Rick’s icy blue eyes after carefully opening each lid to see if his pupils reflex. However, when they did not respond to the light, you take a heavy note that he, as the nurse has said, could be in a coma.

You shake your head, lightly placing the back of your hand onto his cheek. His body feels so warm. His clean shaven face is soft to the touch despite the grainy look.

“Its good to see you again…” You mumble with a sad smile. You stare deep into his face. Even though he’s in a possible coma, you can feel the vibrations of his skin piercing into yours. It's been a while since you’ve been this close to him. His scent engulfs your nose, you accept and take a soft inhale.

That cologne he’s wearing; he's been shot up, bloody, unconscious, sterilized, changed, and yet, he still smells like…him. This particular thought makes you chuckle, gently rubbing his cheek. Out of nowhere, a voice comes through the door, “Doctor (Last Name)?!”

The door swings open, leaving little to no time for you to straighten yourself but you're quick. Able to look genuinely busy, like you weren’t just reminiscing memories and rubbing the cheek of this unconscious patient.

The nurse from earlier and a woman step into the room. You smile warmly as you turn around, rubbing your thumb behind the file in your hands. “I’m sorry, Doctor (Last name). Her name is Lori Grimes and I couldn’t get her to wait any longer. She just barged in…” The nurse frantically says.

“It’s okay, she has a right to be here. Thank you, though. I’ll take it from here.” You say as the nurse nods and walks out of the room. The medium length, brown haired woman walks around you to Rick and holds his face. Tears stream down her cheeks. She puts her forehead on his and closes her eyes.

You watch this display of affection with a blank face. That’s his wife…Lori. You never really met Lori before. She didn’t know you. Not personally, anyway. No, she knew you like all the other townies did. With gossip and rumors. After a little while of a sort of reunion with her and her husband, she turns to face you.

“I heard he was shot while workin’. Brought down some…assholes,” she says, southern voice broken from crying but also, smiling softly at the hard work her husband does. What it costed him, what it costs her, and how it will affect their son has put a damper on her thoughts. Lori’s smile falls, “so…is he gonna be alright?” She grabs a tissue and wipes her nose with it. “He’s going to wake up?” She asks, looking up at you once more. Waiting for your response.

This question was inevitable. Is he going to wake up? You don’t have the answers to that right now. “I’m sorry…” You say, hanging your head. Something you’ve become accustomed to when delivering bad news.

“W-what do you mean? What do you mean, you’re sorry?” Lori asks, eyes wide with confusion. Searching your face for an answer. Orbs filling with tears, unwillingly pouring down her face. She’s trying to keep it together, but this is her husband you're talking about. How could she be calm in this situation? React in a way that is deemed to be appropriate?

“He hasn’t responded to any of the tests or reflexes. Jabs, pokes, lights. His eyes will not respond either and in his condition, thats usually not a good sign."

“So…what are you saying? That he's not going to wake up?” Lori exclaims in questions.

“Well…we don’t really know that yet. We believe, with our medical professions, that he might be in a coma. It’s too early to tell so the best we can do right now is care for him. Keep him for a few days to a week. See how he progresses during that time.” Lori’s hazel eyes widened bigger than they’ve been since she's spoken with you. She looks down at her husband as her face contorts to a sobbing one. 

You pipe up, “he may not be responding right at this moment but it doesn’t mean he wont come out of it at all. He’s a strong man. Believe in him, okay?” You state, sounding a little familiar with his character. Lori doesn’t respond to you  and because of that, you think its best to leave her alone. Turning to leave the room, Lori suddenly stops you. “Doctor (Last name), wait…”

You do stop in your tracks and look back at Lori. A broken woman, who could possibly be a widow. Both of you sit there in silence, staring at each other. Lori couldn’t figure out why she stopped you in the first place. She didn't even really have anything to ask. She knows you did all you could to help him, but something is tugging at her. The way you emphasized “strong” got the gears in her head moving a little.

In her mind, her body, her gut…she feels like you are more than just a Surgeon working here. You were hiding something, just like the townspeople have been saying. Its not like she can come out and ask you. She’s too polite to do that. So, instead, she just glances down at Rick and then back at you. “Uhm…thank you…” is all she can muster before taking her gaze away and again, back at Rick.

“Yes…of course. You’re welcome.” You turn to take your leave. Lori watches your steps as you exit the room.

You are suddenly greeted outside of the room by a man wearing the same exact Deputy cop uniform as Rick’s. This man’s got you close to the door; shocked by his immediate and intrusive presence. The cop smiles genuinely. “Woah, sorry sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you there.” He backs up a little, giving you a better view of him.

Short brown hair that's slightly curled. An intense stare gives his dark brown eyes an allure, welcoming any “sweet heart” with unspoken invitation. Strong, shaped arms are tucked away under his uniform. His forearms are exposed showing the veins through his skin, you swear you could almost see the rhythm of his heartbeat.

The pet name automatically given to you is expected of this particular man. Shane. Walsh. Yes, you know him. Just like Lori, you know who he is, but he didn't know you. Even before you asked for his information, you knew who he was.

Honestly, you don't really find Rick without Shane kind of trailing behind. That’s why those moments together, you and Rick’s, were so special.

Against all odds, everything ended the way it should have. A calm resolve that fixed both parties’ problems without hurting anyone in the process.

You just look at him, but your mind is running really fast. Pet names. One of your weaknesses. Princess. Babygirl. Sweetheart…and the way he said it. So casually, but there was a hint of something else. Of course, it’s degrading but it also stemmed a knot inside the pit of your stomach. You have to admit…he is good-looking. He has a cute smile, his white teeth peeking between his pretty lips. My…how nice it would be to just… You squish your legs together, subtly biting the inside of your mouth, looking up at him. 

To distract yourself from the potential meltdown in your panties, you smile at Shane. Smile big. Smile bright. Smile him away. Hoping maybe your creepy smile would get him to leave you alone. Already, falling for his playful dominant demeanor. Despite this, he just tilts his head and gives you a puzzled look. Now, approaching a little closer to you. “Arrre you okay…?” He asks, a small smirk appearing on his face. Well, that did the complete opposite.

“...Yes…I mean-er-yeah! Yes, I’m fine. You just startled me…” You trip over words, trying to catch yourself from the hole you just dug yourself in. You rub your temple, trying to act annoyed with his presence and perhaps that’d get him to back off. Not that you really minded him being so close to you, but your pussy is basically aching right now. Its torture having such a sexy, tall, husky man mildly tower above you. “Um…who are you again? The nurses will be able to help you with anything you need. I’m just…very busy at the moment.” You state, sighing deeply. 

Nothing you tried got Shane to turn and walk away, so you just listen to what he has to say. “I need you to help me, Doctor (Last Name). Not anybody else but you.” He says nonchalantly, his face now partially stern.

You blink. Need?

You blink again. You? Why you? 

He continues, noticing that he seems to have got you to listen to him. “My name is Officer Shane Walsh-” I know. You think to yourself, “and that man in there is Rick Grimes.” He points to the door behind you. “We work together on the force, I’m sure you already know the small details. I was with him when he got shot. Is he going to be okay? They wouldn't tell me anything and you were the one who did his surgery, so, here I am.” He expresses.

“Well,” you begin, about to give it to him straight, hanging your head and shaking it, “I’m sorry…all we can say for now is that Mr. Grimes might be in a coma. We don’t want to confirm anything yet, but he will be staying at this hospital for a few days to a week. As I have already told Mrs. Grimes. In his current state, he is not conscious. We have no choice but to wait and observe how and if he recovers.” 

“Oh…” he mumbles, becoming silent for a second. “Lori’s in there?” He suddenly asks. You nod. “So, you told her everything already?” 

“We talked earlier. If you’d like, you can join her inside, but I have to go now, Officer Walsh. Got a lot of work to do.” You mention.

“Hold up.” Without warning, he lifts his arm up above your head, using his hand to keep him upright and keeping you from going anywhere. Shane leans down a couple inches from your face. Your eyes enlarge. Unwanted shades of blush permeated onto your cheeks, lips faintly apart as you breathe in his scent developing into your mouth and through your nose. It's almost intoxicating. Fuck…why does he have to be so fucking close? People are watching us…You thought and you were right. People are watching you. Nurses walked through the halls with judgey eyes. Such a sinful display and would surely be thrown around the hospital. Probably reach the ears of the townspeople. Just great…

Shane is quick to catch onto your embarrassment. The glint in his eyes and his smirk widening; testing your boundaries and pushing your buttons. He stares you deep in your big, doe eyes. You look so helpless in your cute little heels, but you may be embarrassed but you will not back down from his obvious attempt at dominant intimidation. 

He leans his face slightly close to yours, completely ignoring everyone around you. His smirk grows bigger by the minute. “You ARE that doctor everyone in town keeps yappin’ about. How’s it feel comin’ to work so dolled up? Bet you catch quite a bit of attention, huh? You got another spot open for a Daddy who’s looking?” He playfully mocks and snickers a little, holding his hand up to contain his laughter. Shane’s referring to your sense of style choice. More specifically your kitten pumps and you look down at them. Smiling at how great they make your legs look. You don’t care how much pain goes into a sense of fashion. Beauty is pain as your mother always says. 

Ugh, you should hate him right now. You should be disgusted with his character. You should slap him across his face but the humiliation you got from his dominant and rash nature as the people you work with eye you both down…

It's giving you a rush you haven't felt in a while. Even when you party at the downtown club, take a bunch of drugs, and have sex with a random cute guy, this feeling of being watched is honestly making you kind of wet. 

You clear your throat once more and scoff as he finally gives you room. You hit him with another blank stare, catching onto the fact that he also heard about the rumors. Of fucking course he did…You huff and push past him; brushing your clothes of his stench when you step a few feet away from him. You turn around and look at him. “Ew…” you furrow your eyebrows and then chuckle, “look, I get it.” you press your hand against your heart. “I know that you’re just jealous of me.” You state.

“Wh-whhat…?” He chortles in slight surprise. “You have to be-”

“While you work a dead-end job risking your life only to not even make a quarter of what I have…I sit in absolute luxury, working a job I want rather than something that I have to. Unlike all of you…” You retort, placing the same hand that is against your heart on your hip and glare at him. Quickly, turning around and walking away.

“Hey, wait-!” By the time he called out to you, you had already disappeared around the corner. He stands there in slight astonishment. “What a bitch…no fucking way she actually said that to me…” He mumbles to himself, running his hand through his hair.

It kind of pisses him how that was your response to him. Speaking to him in such a manner-Shane didn’t think he’d experience a doctor just talked down to him. 

If that’s really who you are, he’d like to grab your shoulders and shake them. Scream in your face that the world doesn't revolve around you and you don't make it spin!

Yet, despite this, he is actually kind of intrigued by you.

How do you care for others when you only really seem to think about yourself?

If the world ended tomorrow how many people would you throw under the bus in order to live?

Those kinds of questions swirled in his brain, ready to settle down in his head and live rent free. To Shane, it almost seems physically impossible to be an egotistical bitch and still have the thoughts of the people in mind. You’re so mysterious…Who knew it's unattractive in some people. He sighs and goes inside the room with Lori.

You walk calmly down the corridor, eyes watching you. Nodding at you. When they are no longer lingering, you hurriedly take a sharp turn and dart into the bathroom. It's a decently sized restroom. One seater. You slam the door shut and press your back against it, panting and locking it in the process.

The likes of these men…Getting into your face…getting so close to you that you start breathing them in…

The flush on your cheeks never faded and the more you thought about your encounter with Shane, the more apparent on your face that you got some kind of kick out of his degradation and humiliation. You could tell that he was enjoying himself. The smirk on his face read clearly what he was trying to do. Whether he was doing it subconsciously or not, that part didn’t matter.

Basically pinning you against the door in front of all of your colleagues. You close your eyes and bring yourself back to that scenario; with your hand, you ride it up your pelvic area as visions of Shane flood your mind. He’s so fucking cute… The voice in your head says. Ugh, men like Shane…like Rick…really make your panties drop. You have a small idea on what it is about them that really turns you on. Such respect and determination, authority and indomitable.

However, you hold a deep dark secret. Something that, if ever came out to the public at all, would ruin the reputation you’ve spent so long to build.

Higher and higher, you run your hand up your thigh, stopping at the hem of your panty leg hole. Your fingers barely touch the plumpness of your center before an aching embarrassed mew escapes between your lips. You feel so dizzy. How could you possibly go back to work in such a perverted state? Your mind is not even able to think clearly. You honestly just want to touch yourself. To the thought of Shane…of Rick…So much sexual tension is being built inside of you.

When you really start getting horny and those kinds of images start, it always brings you back to your memories with Rick. All those years ago when he’d touch around your body. Smile at you with those gorgeous teeth. Joking and fucking around with you. Those were such good times…

You groan long and softly. You have to do something quick or you’ll be pouncing on the next man you see. So, the only way to calm the waters, is doing what was always the best way to rid yourself of extreme hormonal sexual frustration that insists upon itself to show up in the most dumbest, most defiling situations.

You reach into your lab coat pocket, a hidden socket within the inner layer, you pull out a neatly rolled joint. Along with a lighter you keep beside it. Lighting the joint and breathing in it's calming THC goodness. You close your eyes as the Sativa high embraces you. Remove your hand from your inner upper thigh and sigh as your pager goes off. “Ugh, I want to touch myself so badly…I have to stay away from Shane or I’ll just end up grabbing him and fucking him in one of these bathrooms.” You say nonchalantly to yourself.

You take a couple more puffs before taking your thumb and index finger and pull out the cherry. It hits the ground as you now have a conserved joint for later. Smoke fills the one seater bathroom. One of your kitten pumps steps perfectly on the burning ash on the floor, leaving nothing but a bundle of dust. Blown away when you open the door and exit the restroom.

[yourmamakira]

"FIGHTING WORDS" Carl Grimes, she/her

Set in the Alexzandria Era after Carl lost his eye. His very protective girlfriend overheard the local kids talking about Carl behind his back. and needless to say, no one had anything to say about Carl ever again. [ANGST, to SLIGHT FLUFF]

Carl has been in a coma for weeks. His girlfriend had never left his side after the incident. Her depression had gotten so bad it took Daryal, Glenn and Rick to hold her down to force her to eat and drink water.

Her mood had deteriorated drastically, she was more angry, she was less active, she never smiled anymore and she didn't know who to blame for what happened to Carl. She knew it wasn't right to Blame others for the accident. but she had nearly lost the one thing keeping her going in this Hell that used to be a world, she had every right to be upset.

she sat in the armchair next to the bed Carl lay in peacefully, she slipped between sleep and alert wake. She didn't even let the nurse come into the room to check on Carl unless absolutely necessary, and when anyone else was in beside her and Carl, her hand stayed on her and Carl's Gun that slept in her holster.

her eyes shot open and her hand bolted to her gun as the door to their room swung open. In walked the one and only Daryl Dixon, and for once he was without his crossbow. he walked in with his usual gruff demeanor and closed the door behind him.

The girl took her hand off her guns and crossed her arms as she returned to watching the sleeping Carl.

Darryl came over and sat in the seat opposite of her. he crossed his arms before speaking.

"You need to go outside. He ain't wakin' up any sooner with you watchin' him like a hawk. He ain't goin' nowhere, and you don't have to go that far. Jus' needs to get outta this room."

You glared at him through your hooded eyes. but inevitably he was right. carl had been like this for weeks and every second you watched him it felt like your body was slipping farther into a black hole.

Daryal then spoke again, "You need to be in your best health for when he wakes up. you need ta' take care of em', not him take care of you. how you gon take care of him like this?"

he had you stumped with his words. he was right, how were you going to take care of Carl and you couldn't even take care of yourself?

you let out a sigh and began to get up, he followed suit but then stopped you by holding out his hand. you huffed while rolling your eyes and took your guns out of your holster. he didn't know about the knife in your boot thank goodness, but knowing him he probably did.

you passed him up with a glare while leaving the house and strolling out into the street you hadn't seen in weeks. There wasn't much to do here. Besides the few teens that roamed, but you mainly kept to yourself and Carl.

you never really talked much these days, nothing worth talking about. Many thought you were mute at first meeting you, but that narrative quickly went out the window whenever you got too upset. Memory's of all the times someone had pissed you off to bad and you cussing up a storm regardless the person.

you walked the streets passing by people and not saying a word. You came up to a small bench and decided to take a seat and just take in the fresh air, you had to admit, it did feel nice on your skin to feel the breeze and not that stuffy old room that felt more like a prison rather a room.

a few minutes had passed and you had begun to get up being done with your reminiscence before you spotted a group of teens headed your way.

You despised these inhabitants of Alexandria greatly, and their children were even more unbearable. You started past them before one of them decided to take it upon himself to cat-called you, despite you clearly being madly in love with Carl, these specific group just love to torment you.

"Hey, Miss Mute! How about I show you what a real man looks like in bed while your one eyed freak of a boyfriend's out!" He and his friends cackled like hyenas while shoving him around, as if what he said was the greatest thing in the world.

you slowly spun around and sneered, you decided to brush off his remark of the incident, knowing nothing good would come out of beating his ass, "Your tiny shrimp dick doesn't even come close to a real man. My one eyed freak of a boyfriend at that." he stopped laughing and his gooneys ooed like kindergarteners.

He tilted his head to the side as he stepped closer then he should have. "The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?" You stepped closer to him and you could feel his stank breath up your nose, it made you want to vomit on the spot. But you continued to talk your shit.

"I said, you have a big ass head, and a small as Dick. Your breath also smells like walker ass. need I say more?" Your head tilted to the side and your eyebrows furrowed.

his face contorted into one of anger, he scoffed then chuckled dryly as if he thought a funny thought in his fucked up head.

He raised his hand and tried to touch your hair, but you moved your face and roughly grabbed his arm putting it behind his back so he couldn't move. you then put pressure on his back as he cried out loudly in pain.

"you ever touch me again, and I will fucking kill you!"you yelled out aggressively. You were not in the mood to be fucked with.

He couldn't even respond with words as he just continued to cry like a baby for anyone that would dare to help him.

His friends all backed up out of fear of being next. They started yelling at you to let him go but you didn't listen and continued to nearly break his arm.

He yelled louder as your pressure increased. Your face hot with anger that he even dared to touch you after making a nasty comment about your boyfriend.

You then heard yells of a few adults calling you name but you still didn't let up.

Then out of no where two pairs of strong arms grabbed your arms and you thrashed in their hold.

The boy you had previously had in a hold jumped up to his feet and held his arm in pain, "you crazy bitch! That bullet should have Killed Your boyfriend!"

He yelled out and suddenly your thrashing stopped, you looked up at him with a dark look and his face went cold. He knew he had fucked up.

You harshly ripped your arms away from your holders and ran up to the boy with a flying fist, it knocked him on the ground and you kept on punching. His face become black and blue and Messy with blood, your knuckles ached but you didn't care.

It took a total of four adults to pry you away from the nearly unconscious boy, but by then you had already lost all cool.

You stopped struggling in their hold and spit on the boy you had just beat to a pulp.

Your breathing was irratic and it became very clear to everyone that you were extremely unstable. You caught your breath and spoke down darkly to the boy who cried out in pain. He spotted you stepping one step closer and backed up out of fear.

"If you, or anyone else is this god dam town, ever speak bad about Carl ever again. Your gonna wish your sorry asses became walkers after i'm through with you! Do you FUCKING HEAR ME??"

The boy nodded vigorously as more and more people came over to stare at you with fear.

You yanked your arms away from the men and everyone backed up and cleared you a path as you turned around to go back to you and Carl's room.

You made it up there and slammed the door and began pacing back and forth. You were so Pumped with adrenaline that you didn't even notice the empty bed where Carl laid before.

The door swung open and in came a seething Daryl, followed by a worried Glenn and a Very Concerned Maggie.

Daryl came over to stand infront of you and you mean mugged him. He gave you a harsh push and you feel backwards into a chair.

Maggie and Glenn both Yelled but their cries went Unheard by the both of you. You death gripped the arm rests of the chair you sat in as you glared up at the yelling Man that had became your father figure over the course of this apocalypse.

"I told your ass to take a walk! Not Pumble some kids face in! Now That kids gonna need Stitches that we don't have Just because you couldn't control your Anger over some Dam words! Now I heard what them kids said to you, what they said about Carl. But what if That dam wanna be president decided to Kick you out because you beat up some kid they thought was innocent?! You don't think before you Hit! And we can't have that type of stupidity in this world! Get your fuckin' act together! Or you're gonna be in some deep fuckin' shit."

He left off with those words and left behind a shaking and teary eyed child on the Chair. Your leg bounced rapidly as tears fell from your eyes but no sound came out.

You didn't know any other way to let out what you were feeling besides violence. It was your only option given that Carl wasn't in a good shape to calm you down like he usually would.

You were unknowingly left alone in the room and that left you with your thoughts. You stood up and began throwing, kicking and breaking everything and anything in the room that could be thrown kicked or broken.

You continued until another voice entered the room, another voice you hadn't heard in a long time.

"Y/n..?"

You spun around and anyone could tell just by looking at you that you were not okay.

Your eye bags as eye bags, your hair was widely unkept, your knuckles bled from throwing things, hitting things and beating the shit out of kids and unsuspecting walkers. You shook with every breath you let out, and your voice was raw from yelling into your pillow with Sobs you couldn't control.

Carl Slowly made his way into the room as he carefully walked to you like you were Fine China. He stopped right in front of you and then suddenly encased your form.

You stood there for a few seconds, asking yourself in your loud head 'was this real?'

But as you felt the heat off his skin, the soft melancholy beat of his heart. And his soft But ragged breaths. You knew your boyfriend was real.

You slowly encased his body and you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your face. You began sobbing, wetting his shirt like it was raining from the clouds.

Your loud sobs shook the house that you both occupied but You didn't care. Your throat became dryer and dryer and you sobs grew raspy as you clutched Carl Closer to your body.

You were a broken record falling apart without the other half that was the love of you life. Carl rubbed your back and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You continued to sob until you couldn't anymore. Your legs grew tired as your body grew heavy, you hadn't slept in days. And it was evident on your face.

His big hands cupped your face and used the pads of his thumb to wipe away any stray tears from your eyes, your hurt and abused soul seethed through your eyes and he could see what you had been going through with just a glance at your tear stained face.

He kissed your tears away with his chapped lips and your eyes fluttered closed. Your breathing leveled out after crying for hours in his shoulder. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bed.

He laid down in the spot he had been for weeks and you laid on top of him. You looked into eachothers eyes until you couldn't keep them open anymore.

The two of you fell asleep to the sounds of each others breathing.

You knew you would have to deal with the consequences of what you had done, but you could deal with them later.

Now? The two puzzles peices had finally clicked back together where they belonged, and as long as you had Carl. You didn't care what was next. As long as whatever it was, was beside him.

HIIII, this chapter is kinda sad, sadder then I usually write at least, and this had more reader then Carl so I'm sorry about that but I really hope you guys enjoyed this, and if you wanna see more of Mr grimes please request and I'll get back to you :3

[thoughtfulchaos773]

The Art of a Slowburn

Besides the commonality of Jon Bernthal playing a partner/brother, there's also the art of the slow burn happening in Twd and the Bear- and yes, I know, different writers can't quite compare. But the art of foreshadowing is always the same. If you didn't see the show spoilers ahead I'll provide a recap if you don't care to watch Twd.

Here's the gist of the show: Rick wakes up from a coma and finds his wife and son. He is fighting off the end of the world and zombies and reunites with his family along the way- his wife dies during childbirth, and literally 3 episodes later, amid Rick's grieving, Michonne arrives.

The matching! They're showing and hinting at the audience early on; these two are a great match.

More matching:

Was it the stares, I wondered? It's something richonners loved to analyze while the burn was slow. Particulary, Rick stares at Michonne like Carmy. They focus on this so you can get a feel of the main character's reaction to their love interest. For me, it's the preceding scenes that hinted at Richonne, and I'll compare them with Sydcarmy in a second:

But check out his flirting- there was much gaslighting on the ship. People said we were overthinking; they were just friends, and she was like a brother to Rick and a partner he lost in Shane. But Michonne fulfilled both for RIck- she was a partner and wife. Just as Sydney is a partner to Carmy.

Now let's talk about the dialogue and preceding scenes. In season 4, the prison is calm- domesticated. Rick is taking a break from the violence and is almost making peace with his wife's death. At this point, we don't know about Michonne's history, but Hershel- Rick's advisor- says this before Michonne arrives from being on the road.

(Things break, but they can still grow- a new plant, a new family tree. They hint at the Grimes 2.0 family after Lori's death. Right after Hershel says this- Michonne arrives.)

Plants? Family tree? Things growing you say?

Sydcarmy's preceding scenes hint at a ship:

Also, can I mention the tension? Here’s the thing: Rick treated Michonne differently than the rest of his found family. Just like Carmy. He listened to Michonne's advice early on—what Michonne wants goes. Sound familiar?

Even amid Michonne Challenging him as Sydney challenges Carmy- you can feel the closeness- the partnership and trust growing between them.

Jessie/ Claire, a blast from the past.

In TWD, Jessie represents Lori (Rick's dead wife) before Richonne happens. We got the Jessie storyline- a big session of major gaslighting here; some WD fans figured Jessie would replace Andrea, Rick's love/partner in the comics. But it didn't make any sense to us- they built all this tension and closeness between Rick and Michonne, and suddenly, Jessie happens?

Then they point to the signs visually- such as Jessie wearing a plaid shirt, the same style his wife Lori wore when he last saw her alive.

Lori's ghost:

Jessie & Claire, and nothing thereafter.

Rick doesn't sleep with Jessie, but after their kiss the night before, Jessie touches Rick's face, and he feels nothing for her- even after he stares at his wedding ring. When Richonne becomes Cannon in the very next episode, the first shot we see is Rick's wedding ring on the dresser- showing us he's past his grief and is in a new place to be with Michonne, his soulmate.

Comparing to Carmy and Claire. After he declares Claire his girlfriend they sleep together he feels nothing because dating her was all about getting past his grief with Mikey.

In this same episode, they do more proceeding scenes hinting at Richonne happening. When Deanna, the town leader, asks Michonne to look into what she wants after they get through the herd. They cut to scenes of Michonne caring for Carl- Rick's son.

But all this foreshadowing- I should get into the cinematography parallels that honored Lori's role and show Michonne fulfilling the matriarch of the family just as Sydney honors Mikey. But this is enough for now. Maybe a part 2 I got plenty more comparisons.

The same will happen with Carmy and Sydney- the show gives us clear obstacles that stop Sydney and Carmy from slowing down, taking a look, and realizing their feelings for each other. For carmy to get to that place, he has to get past his grief.

I think, if anything, if this is the last season and they don't end with a kiss, Storer is hinting at it. Like the bear, the pairing was planned from the beginning and you. Tell by the foreshadowing and if people really watched, they could see the signs.

One last thing, this was a comment once richonne became cannon and it's so similar to sydcarmy. Tells you all about how misdirection in slow burns work with most audience. When a ship becomes cannon some say wow! I didn't see that comingʻ where there's been hints from the start..when it's planned.

I saw their relationship develop in a platonic kind of way, and it was a complete surprise for me when they got together. Now, looking back, I'm so embarrassed because it was so obvious all along.

Be safe, and Happy Holidays, Folks!

[dixons-sunshine]

Pull Through | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While you were injured with no way of knowing if you'd make it or not, Daryl let the group in on his feelings. He shares some of his memories with you, as well as some of his worries.

Genre: Angst.

Era: Prison, post season three, pre season four.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU, but can be read as a standalone. However, some call backs are made to previous parts in this.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/n: I've had this idea in my mind for another part to the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU for a while now, but I just don't know how to put it into a proper fic. This is more of a filler than an actual fic, but anyways. Hope you like this!

“Ya know, Shane wasn't the first person to tell me tha' I dun' deserve her.”

Rick looked up from his daughter to look at the archer, Daryl holding his own five month old baby girl in his arms. Rick's heart broke at the sight of his found brother's clear distress evident on his face. He was staring off at nothing in particular, thankfully lucid enough to keep Hazel in place on his lap. It was clear that your recent injury had taken its toll on Daryl, and Rick knew that if you didn't wake up from your little coma, Daryl would be a mess; he would be a bigger mess than Rick was when he lost Lori.

“My whole life, even 'fore I grew the balls to confess to her, people were tellin' me tha' I dun' deserve her, tha' I ain't good 'nough fer her, tha' she'll see it herself and leave me.” Daryl stopped for a moment, his attention temporarily being diverted to his daughter who was starting to fuss a little. He whispered sweet nothings to her in the hopes of calming her down, slightly bouncing his leg and successfully coaxing a giggle from her. “But she never left. Even when things weren't all sunshines and rainbows, she stayed. She loved me regardless of all of my flaws, and god knows I have a shit ton of 'em. She ain't ever even thought 'bout walkin' outta the door, even when she could'a, and I wouldn't have blamed her.”

By now, a few people in the group has stopped to listen to the usually quiet archer. Beth, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Tyreese, Hershel, Michonne, Carl and Carol stopped to listen to him. It was extremely rare to hear Daryl talk about anything outside of the usual “formal” work talk—who would go on runs, who'd work on the fence, etc.—so everyone was intrigued to hear the brooding huntsman speak his mind.

“She deserved so much better than me, and I know tha', but she didn't think so. She stuck with me through everythin'. Through most'a my childhood, through highschool, through Merle and his bullshit, everythin'.” Daryl inhaled sharply and let out a shaky exhale, trying to keep his emotions under control. “She always managed to make the most outta everythin'. When I saw a glass tha' was half empty, she saw a glass tha' was half full. Ya know, our first apartment we lived in after movin' outta her mom's trailer was so shitty.”

“Yeah?” Rick replied, just letting Daryl know that he was listening.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed with a broken chuckle, nodding his head and allowing Hazel to play with his fingers. “Hot water didn't work most'a the time, the oven only worked when it wanted to, the pipes made this weird screeching sound whenever it was cold, and the window to our bedroom was jammed shut. It never opened, so it was hella hot in the summer.” He sighed again and shook his head. “We lived in tha' crappy place fer years 'fore either of us had 'nough money to move into a better place. But she never complained, never threatened to leave me if I didn't find a better apartment, never once blamed me when she had to take a cold shower in the winter. Hell, she even planned on proposin' to me 'cause I was takin' too long.” For added emphasis, he lifted his left hand to show off the silver band he proudly wore every day of his life since that day in your apartment. “I beat her to it, though. She's jus' so amazin'. I love her. I can't lose her. I'll die without her.” And with that last sentence, a sob finally broke out of the archer's chest.

Within seconds, Rick had gently grabbed Hazel from Daryl's arms and passed her over to Carol—who had been on her way to offer her own support to the huntsman—before wrapping his arms around his unofficial brother. Judith had been passed over to Beth during Daryl's speech to be put down for the night, so it made it easier for the former sheriff to jump up and hug Daryl. The archer never once displayed any forms of sadness in front of the group that had to do with crying. His sadness was usually handled through anger, but this wasn't a usual situation. You—the love of his life and the mother of his baby girl—were clinging on for dear life in your weakened state. The attackers that ambushed the group of people who went on the run the previous day made you suffer the worst of the attack. Hershel did his best with the supplies he had, but there was no telling if you'd recover until you woke up, if you ever woke up. And that scared Daryl beyond belief.

Rick didn't hold Daryl long, maybe two minutes at most, until he pulled away. Daryl furiously wiped at the tears in his eyes, mad at himself for displaying such weakness in front of everybody. However, nobody made any sort of comment towards him, their own understanding and worry towards you preventing them from doing so.

“If there's one thing I know,” Rick began, standing up and allowing Daryl to have some space. “It's that you Dixons are fucking stubborn. She'll pull through, I know it.”

Daryl sniffed and nodded, wiping his eyes one more time before getting up and gently taking his daughter from Carol. “She needs to be put to bed soon. She, uh, needs to see her mama 'fore it, though, jus' in case...”

Just in case you didn't make it.

Rick nodded sympathetically, and with that, Daryl walked away from everyone's empathetic gazes. He walked up the stairs and made his way to the makeshift medical cell, expecting to see you asleep, like you had been for over twenty-four hours at that point. However, he was instead met with the sight of you sat up and crouched over to the side, heaving and clutching at your chest, awake and alert, and he didn't hesitate to call for help.

“Hershel!”

Within seconds, the old man had hobbled himself over to the cell and was by your side in an instant. He was helping you put an oxygen mask over your mouth to help you breath, and once you weren't struggling to breathe anymore, he sent a frightened looking Daryl a reassuring smile. He beckoned him closer, and with Hazel still in his arms, he walked over to you and sat down on the bed, hugging you gently and quickly before pulling back—there would be time to crush you to him and never let you go when you weren't sat with a recently shot stomach and a few broken ribs. Hershel patted his back reassuringly, and he sent a very awake, lucid you a warm smile.

“Welcome back.” He turned to Daryl and nodded. “She pulled through.”

“S'a good sign, righ'?”

For the first time in twenty four hours, Hershel gave the archer good news. “It's a damn good sign.”

You were grunting and reaching out to Daryl, and your husband instantly knew what you were requesting. With a nod from Hershel, Daryl slowly transfered Hazel into your arms, and your little one instantly recognized her mama's touch. Her mood instantly brightened, right alongside her father's.

You were okay. However, the same definitely wouldn't be said for the son of a bitch held prisoner as soon as Daryl was done with him later—he was going to pay for hurting you, and Daryl wasn't going to go easy on him, either.

[sirensvcubus]

Morning After

Daryl x Reader

Fluff/peoples reactions/first time together

Soft side of Daryl Dicks in

Not proofread

You woke feeling his rough scratchy hands delicately caress your arm as you laid on your side facing away from him. His warm chest pressed into your back. You opened your eyes to scattered clothes around the room and feathers from the pillows still raining down throughout the room. Soft warm sunlight shone through the room through the drapes. A smile of pure joy filled your face as one landed on your nose reminding you of the best night you e had sense the end of the world. Daryl pressed a kiss into your back.

“You up.” His raspy morning voice breaking the peaceful silence.

“Mmhmm” you cooed giddy. He pressed another kiss into your back moving slowly up to your neck. You turned to face him and your smile beamed, forcing a smile of pure delight from him as well.

“Morning sweetheart.” Daryl said.

“Mmmh morning.” You said through your wide smile.

“You slept in late.” He said

“Stayed up late.” You said and you both chuckled. You snuggled into his warm embrace feeling his warm breath tickle the hairs on your neck as you got closer.

“Lets never leave.” You whispered

“Sounds good to mey” He whispered back.

The peace was abruptly cut short with loud knocks at his bedroom door.

“Daryl, hey you didn’t turn up for the morning meeting, thought wed let you sleep in, but were over for breakfast, just letting you know, well brief you on stuff ya missed,” Rick heavy accent identified him. Oh boy, in your blissful coma it slipped your mind about the daily breakfast the group shared. Everyone was split between two houses, of corse they had to chose this one, you thought.

“Ya rick, comin right out, forgot it wa today” Daryl responded.

“No problem a few others slept in too, it was a long scavenge trip yesterday!” Rick chimed, followed by footsteps to the kitchen. Daryls room was in a hall right beside the kitchen, leading to THE KITCHEN. Oh god you thought. You both frantically got up collecting your clothes from around the room you slipped everything on as fast as possible. Before heading out you glanced in the mirror, your hair was frizzy.

“Ready,” Daryl said while placing a kiss on your cheek. You both stood by the door. You sighed

“ready” you made a small smile.

You both crept out hoping they were too busy stuffing there faces but with the squeak of the door hinges all eyes went to you two as he shut the door behind him. You hurried over to the table.

“Morning” you smiled as Daryl swiftly pulled out a chair for you while sitting down.

Rick and Carol and some of the others smirked.

“Morning” Rick said still grinning.

“What were you two up to.” Abraham laughed. You and Daryl glanced at each other.

“Ughhh…” Daryl started.

“Your shirt inside out by the way” Rosita whispered leaning beside you. You stuffed your face in a bagel avoiding all questions.

“Room renovations?” Carol suggested

“I did hear a lot of banging last night come to think of it.” She chuckled as you choked on your water and gulped. Daryl shaked his head grinning. “Well now everyone like a good late night construction,” Michonne said and we all laughed.

“Alright, alright, lets give em a break, nother day o scavenging ahead of us.” Rick smirked, “so we gotta save up some good jokes.” He laughed.

You shook your head smiling, “jerks” you grinned. Under the table Daryls hand met yours.

[sarhcameron]

if you think love has made rick grimes weak, you don't know anything about his character. from the very beginning, love was what really motivated him.

after the coma, it was because of his love for carl that rick didn't give up. he learned to deal with the changes in the world just to be able to find his family.

and then, everything he did, all the fights he went through, was also motivated by love. rick lives for michonne, judith, rj and for carl's memory. he's strong, fearless, and unstoppable because he fights for a better world for his family.

towl literally showed us a "no feelings" version of rick, a version that couldn't escape the crm, but as soon as he remembered the people he loves, he was able to get out of there.

so, please do not speak on rick grimes if you don't know him well enough, because you're just gonna sound dumb.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Living Dead Girl (TWD X F!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Chapter Five

You're not entirely sure how you wound up in the predicament you're currently in. One minute you were helping everyone cover Rick and Glenn in corpse guts, and the next you were being dragged into the back of a truck without the chance to even say no. T-Dog practically picked you up and tossed you in, giving you no choice but to go with them. Now you're sitting in the back of a truck wondering how the hell you're gonna get back home.

When you arrive at their camp, you stumble out of the back of the truck alongside the others, moving to stand off to the side awkwardly since you only really know Glenn out of everyone. Your eyes travel over the group, admittedly a bit surprised at how many people there are. When Glenn mentioned his group, you sort of simply assumed it was a handful of people- enough people for just one person to go out scavenging for supplies for them. Instead, it's quite a large group with a few families- including Rick's wife and son from the rather emotional reunion. It honestly makes you uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people after being alone for so long.

Feeling completely out of place, you step off towards the trees, figuring you'd simply stay out of everyone's way until you could figure out a way to get back home. You only go a bit into the tree line, just far enough to be separated from everyone but not far enough to where you could no longer see the camp. The ground is cold and damp, yet you don't mind as you sit down, leaning back against a tree, your gaze remaining locked onto the group as you watch them. You remain sitting there simply watching over them for overs not moving even as the sun sets and darkness settles over the camp.

The group gathers around a campfire, listening as Rick talks to them about his experience of waking up alone at the hospital after being in a coma. Listening to his wife and best friend talk about their side of things for a moment before the conversation drifts to a guy called Ed being called out for adding a log to his fire. The rule makes sense- keeping fires low, barely burning to avoid being seen, especially since corpses react to things they see just as much as they react to things they hear. And you can tell just from Ed's answer that he's not someone you would ever get along with.

You pretty much stop paying attention at that point up until the oldest man of the group speaks up. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

You perk up slightly at the mention, not really recalling if this Daryl guy was mentioned before. However, if he's Merle's brother then he's definitely going to want an explanation about why his brother was left behind in a corpse infested city. Rick may have been the one who handcuffed him to the pipes, but you're the one that took him down which allowed Rick to do so. Rick will probably want to be the one to tell him, which makes you wonder if you should mention your involvement as well or stay completely out of it. You plan on leaving soon anyways, so it's not like it would matter either way.

"I'll tell him." T-Dog states, seeming fully convinced that the situation is his fault. "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine." Rick counters, obviously not wanting anyone else to take the blame.

"Guys, it's not a competition." Glenn cuts in. "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." Well, now you're curious if this Daryl guy is a racist ass just like his brother. If so, you'll have no problem laying him out just like you did to his brother if he gets volatile.

"I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him."

"We could lie." A girl whose name you don't know speaks up.

"Or we could tell the truth." Andrea offers, and you notice that she looks quite similar to the girl who spoke up previously- likely her sister. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed." She leans forward a bit, looking at Rick's wife. "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" The old man questions, seemingly not quite agreeing. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise- we're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared and I ran." T-Dog explains. "I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea questions.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door." Your brow quirks at this, having not realized that he had done so since Glenn practically dragged you down the stairs alongside everyone. If you're being honest, it's more than you probably would have done for the man. You more than likely wouldn't have bothered chaining the door, leaving it completely unlocked for the corpses to get through to him. It's a heartless thing to do, but it's the truth. "Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that- not that chain, not that padlock. My point- Dixon's alive, and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

Everyone goes their separate ways after that, going off to their own tents or whatever to get some sleep for the night. You remain in your spot against the tree, not moving at all as you watch everyone disappear. You don't move even as thunder rumbles across the sky and rain begins to pour, quickly soaking through your clothes despite the leaves above your providing some shelter. It isn't until you hear leaves crunching from your left that you move, turning to find Glenn making his way towards you with an umbrella overhead.

"Hey." He calls out in a whisper, hoping you can hear him over the sound of the thunder. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"Oh, you know. Just enjoying nature." You respond somewhat sarcastically.

Glenn lets out a laugh as he moves to stand over you, holding the umbrella over the both of you as he offers you his hand. "Come on. You can't just sit out here in the rain all night. I've got plenty of room in my tent for the both of us."

"Glenn-"

"I won't take no for an answer." He interrupts, pushing his hand towards you as if urging you to take it. Knowing that he'll likely stand there and argue with you until you give in, you decide to just save the both of you the time and energy by accepting his offer, grabbing his hand and allowing him to pull you off of the ground. He leads you past the other tents until he reaches his own, holding open the flap for you so you can enter. The second you're both inside he zips it closed and turns towards you, seemingly a bit more shy now that you're actually in his tent with him.

"I, uh... I've got a shirt you can borrow but that's about it." Glenn moves past you towards a bag where he pulls out a button up shirt. You take it from him, knowing he won't take no for an answer even though you aren't comfortable with the idea of changing in front of him. The second the shirt is in your hand he turns away, giving you your privacy. You turn around as well, knowing that if he does decide to take a peak, he won't see your scar from behind.

It's a bit strange getting naked from feet from someone who is practically a stranger. Sure, you're only really taking off your shoes, pants, and top but still. The feeling is so odd that you practically rush to put on the shirt, completely uncaring if the buttons are lined up correctly or not. Once the shirt is on- thankfully being just long enough to cover your underwear- you carefully remove your mask and set it on top of your clothes before turning around to face Glenn. Clearing your throat, you watch as Glenn jumps a bit before spinning around, his eyes widening a bit once they land on you.

The boy has to admit that he didn't think this situation through entirely. He just knew that he couldn't leave you out there in the rain, and that he also couldn't leave you in soaking clothes. However, seeing you in nothing more than one of his shirts sends his poor heart into overdrive, his cheeks flushing pink. He tries to make it better by looking away from your body but it only makes things worse as his eyes land on your face- your face that is completely uncovered for the first time allowing him to see every inch of it. And he'd be lying if he said you weren't the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, of course.

Thankfully you give him an excuse to look away as you question him about the sleeping arrangements. Glenn practically trips over himself as he turns around, rushing to grab a spare blanket and pillow for himself while telling you to take the cot. You go to deny the offer, stating that you'd be perfectly fine on the floor since it's tent but he shuts it down instantly, laying on the ground before you can fully protest. Sighing in defeat, you crawl into his cot and get as comfortable as you can, closing your eyes despite knowing that you won't sleep.

You can only hope that this night goes by quickly so that you can return back to the city. And despite actually enjoying being around other people, you know that it isn't practical in the long run.

Taglist: @thatmarvelloser @bloodlinesgirl @yungblud432 @deadgirlrin @reesereadsalot @cantbecreative @misspendragonsworld

[whateverisbeautiful]

Part of the epic reunion in TWOL was driven by after almost 8 years apart, Rick nor Michonne moved on and the yearning for their soulmate persisted despite all the barriers. Are there scenarios that you could imagine where both experiment with intimacy or a different type of connection and still find their way back to one another? I’m not imagining a love triangle but something like Siddiq and Michonne having a brief moment (instead of what played out with him and Rosita) deeper than great friendship ? Other thoughts?

Thank you for asking. 😊 While I think there isn't much that could stop Rick and Michonne from finding their way back to each other, I can't imagine a scenario where they try to briefly experiment with intimacy with other people. And I am super super glad that they didn’t enter into anything romantic with anyone else. To me, Rick and Michonne not moving on with anyone else in any way was the absolute right choice for those characters.

By spending all those years yearning only for each other, it really hammered home how profound Rick and Michonne’s connection is. To the point that even when they had to seriously consider that they may never see each other again they still wanted to spend the rest of their life committed to and in love with one another. I love that they both waited for each other for years and operated every day like they were still actively married.  

It also feels so full circle that both of them stayed so loyal to each other after their experiences with their past partners. They were let down immensely by Mike and Lori while they were away for a far briefer time. Michonne went on a run and Mike couldn’t keep their son alive when she was away. And Rick was in a coma for a few months and Lori had already fallen for and got pregnant by Shane. So it means a lot that now, even with their prolonged distance, Rick and Michonne get to see just how special they are to their partner and how loyal their partner wants to be to them, even when the time spent apart is not just a run or a few months, but nearly a decade.

I have pictured a scenario where during the post-Rick era of TWD, Judith asks Michonne if she’d ever date or let a new man in and she basically tells Judith that the few years with her dad were better than a lifetime with anyone else. I feel like that was both Rick and Michonne’s mentality. 

But while I would not have wanted to watch either Rick or Michonne explore new romantic relationships even if brief, it would have been interesting to see others take an interest in them. Because as beautiful as they are inside and out it’s just realistic that people would be interested in them, even tho they'd all get turned down. I think more men should have and would have tried to pursue Michonne during those six or seven years. And I just know that around the CRM, Rick was known as the hot man who doesn't talk to anybody. In TOWL, I did want to see how both Michonne and Rick would react to some guy in the CRM hitting on Dana.

Overall tho I’m just really grateful for how TOWL confirmed that what Richonne has is no ordinary love. I think they both knew any connection with someone new would greatly pale in comparison to what they found with each other because Rick and Michonne’s irreplaceable connection really is the epitome of deeply intertwined soulmates.

[itsgrimeytime]

my series masterlist \\

oneshots, blurbs

PROCESS TAGS:

⏹️ - discontinued

⏸️ - on a break

▶️ - in progress

⏪️ - being rewritten

✅️ - complete

CONTENT TAGS:

😳 - smut

🫣 - suggestive

💞 - fluff

⛈️ - angst

Home is Where the Heart is || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

'Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

i found a home in you || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

[SPN + TWD Crossover]

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

Part 1... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

Magnolia in May || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

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

Part 1-20, 21-30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

The Lover || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

'A long time ago, you were Rick Grimes's nurse. Now, you loved him, and he loved you. Or at least that's where you left it off. With Judith safe in your arms and Rick distinctly not by your side, you could only hope his feelings stayed the same because they sure as hell did for you.' (SEQUEL to The Nurse)

Part 1, 2...

Available on Ao3

COMPLETED:

drunk on you || ✅️ (💞, ⛈️)

'You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, epilogue

Available on Ao3

Maneater || ✅️ (⛈️,💞)

'You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?'

Part 1, 2, 3, epilogue

Available on Ao3

The Nurse || ✅️ (💞,⛈️)

'Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Available on Ao3

All reblogs and comments are appreciated!! Feel free to send an ask or comment to get on any taglist :)

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part one

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you’d learned in your almost thirty years of life, it was that nothing was ever easy. You’d grown accustomed to things falling apart, no matter how hard you tried to keep it all together. The only thing you were ever able to keep together was your family.

You grew up in Georgia with your parents and your older brother, Rick. Your mother was a homemaker, always around to support you through your childhood. Your father had run the family farm for many years, only selling it a few years ago when he got sick. His own father had fought in the war before you were born, something you had heard little about in your lifetime. He didn’t like to talk about it with you, besides once when you were eight years old. It wasn’t much of a shock when your brother decided to become a deputy for the local sheriff's department. Rick always wanted to rush in and save anyone he could, a trait that seemed to pass from generation to generation. Hell, you were a nurse yourself. As much as Rick’s heroics scared you, you always told yourself that, like your grandfather, he would be okay. That was until his best friend and partner, Shane Walsh, showed up at your front door one afternoon.

You opened the front door of your apartment, Shane standing in front of you with two deputies standing slightly behind him. The look on Shane’s face and the way he spoke your name told you everything.

“Is he dead?” You asked. 

Shane frowned. “He’s in surgery right now. I just dropped off Lori and Carl at the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“There was a chase. We were told there were only two men in the car, but-“ he trailed off. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood in the doorway, trying to process the emotions that were rushing over you like waves crashing the shore. You knew this was a possibility, a risk of the job, but you’d never really let yourself accept that. Finally, your mind shifted to Carl, his son. 

“How is Carl handling it?” You asked. “Is he okay?”

Shane nodded. “You know him, always hopeful. He’s stronger than any of us.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile among the tears you felt racing down your cheek. Shane was right; Carl had a way to make even the hardest of moments a little easier.

“I should get to the hospital, keep Lori company.” You responded.

“I’ll drive you.” 

You nodded, grabbing your keys from the table by your front door.

With you working at the hospital, you spent all of your time there, waiting for your brother to wake up from his coma. You were constantly sending updates to Lori, who you tried to convince to go home and have a proper rest each night. It wasn’t like there was much to update her on though, only really the fact that he was still alive. The more time that passed, the more you began to lose hope.

As if Rick being in a coma wasn’t hard enough to handle, it would only be less than a week until the entire world fell apart.

You had left the hospital for the first time that night, realizing how badly you needed a proper sleep. With the influx of flu cases, you were past the point of exhaustion. Knowing how bad the city was at the moment, you decided to spend the night at Rick and Lori’s house; It was closer to the hospital anyways.

The next morning you awoke to the sound of movement in the kitchen. Checking the clock, you realized it was already eleven.

You pulled yourself from the couch, making your way into the kitchen to find Lori who was making coffee.

You greeted her with a smile, sitting down at the table. 

“He still hasn’t woken up…” Lori mumbled, pouring two cups of coffee. She headed over to the table, sitting down beside you and offering you one of the cups.

“He will,” You spoke, squeezing her hand. “Rick is a fighter. He’ll wake up, I know it.”

Lori tried to muster a smile. “Every morning, every time I pick him up from school, Carl asks me if his daddy is awake yet. Every time I tell him no, I feel like I’m breaking his heart even more.”

It was hard for you to find the words to say to Lori. You weren’t a parent and you had no idea how you would handle the father of your child being where Rick is. All you could do is listen to Lori and try to reassure her, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed what you were saying.

Rick had always been the strong one; the one who kept it together and let the rest of you lean on him. Now, it was your turn to be the strong one and you finally realized just how much you did need your big brother. How were you going to keep it together if he was gone?

The question plaguing your mind would be answered sooner than you could have ever expected. Carl was already home from school and you were just about to leave for your shift when Shane came rushing through the front door.

He was freaking out, speaking of things you didn’t understand. 

“This illness, whatever it is, is getting worse. It’s not safe here anymore. We have to leave, now.”

Shane urged you all to go with him, saying there was a safe zone in the city. When Lori had asked about Rick, after sending Carl to grab some clothes, Shane’s face fell.

“He’s gone,” Shane spoke. “I went to the hospital first and he’s gone. I’m sorry.”

You’d barely had a moment to process the loss of your brother, Shane rushing you and Lori to collect your things and load up his car. All you had was the clothes on your back, having been in a constant loop of washing the same clothes for the last week. Lori had packed up all the photo albums, a sentimentality you’d always appreciated in her.

The four of you made your way towards the city, the sky falling dark before you got anywhere close. Traffic wasn’t moving, cars lined up as far as your eyes could see. Many people were outside their cars, chatting with those around them. 

That is how you met Carol Peletier, her husband Ed, and their daughter Sophia. Carol was a quiet and sweet woman, offering Carl food soon after you’d met. Her husband, on the other hand, was the complete opposite; cold and controlling. Seeing the way Ed was around his wife, you were reminded of the many women you’d treated in the ER. It made your blood boil, but you tried to keep it contained. 

Shane and Lori had wandered off for a bit, wanting to see if they could see the entrance to the city; if they were actually letting anyone in. You stayed behind to keep an eye on Carl.

As you stood outside the car, your eyes fixed on the city ahead, you felt a pit begin to build in your stomach. Fighter jets flew over your head on their way towards the city. Before you knew it, the ground began to rumble as fire and explosions lit the night sky.

They were bombing the city.

Shane and Lori quickly returned, Shane having a new plan and inviting Carol, Ed and Sophia along. The drive towards the Quarry was quiet, each of you silently taking in the events of the night.

Your brother was dead.

Society had fallen into disrepair.

It felt as though you were living a nightmare, one you couldn’t force yourself to wake up from. Now, all you had left was Shane, Lori and Carl and you would do anything to keep them safe.

Before you knew it, a month had gone by. Over time more people had joined you at the Quarry, and it started to feel like a little community. The dead rarely traveled up here, which almost made you forget what was happening in the world.

A small group has gone into the city for supplies, a dangerous task considering the streets were filled with the dead. It had been almost a full day since they left, and everyone was beginning to panic, especially one of the girls’ sister Amy. You had gotten a radio call from one of them earlier that morning, saying they were stuck in a building surrounded by the dead. As much as you wanted to believe they’d find a way out, your hope was slowly dying.

For a moment your mind drifted to your brother, wondering what he would do in this situation. You knew he’d be leaving this camp, heading for the city to at least try to save them. Shane was against that, and you weren’t about to fight him on that. As much as you felt for the others, your only concern was your family and they were safe at camp.

The sound of an alarm blaring in the distance caught everyone’s attention, sending most of you rushing towards the main road leading to camp.

You, however, ran towards the RV, an older man standing up there using a pair of binoculars. “Dale, you see what that is?”

The man remained quiet, continuing to stare into the binoculars.

Shane came to your side. “Talk to me, Dale.”

“I can’t tell yet.” He finally responded.

“Is it them? Are they back?” Amy asked, an obvious hopefulness in her voice.

“I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?”

Dale shrugged. “A stolen car is my guess.”

You waited a few minutes before a red Charger sped into the camp. A young man, Glenn, hopped out of the passenger seat, smiling ear to ear.

“Hey,”

“Holy crap,” Dale grumbled. “Turn that thing off!”

“I don’t know how.” Glenn confessed.

Shane headed over to the car. “Pop the hood please.”

Amy rushed over as well, clinging to Glenn. “My sister Andrea-“

“Pop the damn hood!” Shane snapped.

“Alright, alright!” Glenn responded, popping the hood.

“Is she okay? Is Andrea alright?”

Glenn nodded. “She’s okay.”

The alarm stopped, Shane stepping back from the vehicle and taking a deep breath.

“She’s coming back?”

“Yes.”

Amy continued. “Why isn’t she with you?”

Glenn sighed. “She’s okay. Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much.”

Merle Dixon. The current bane of your existence. He was so much of what you hated about humanity, personified in one single person.

Shane marched over to Glenn. “Are you crazy, driving this wailing bastard up here? Are you trying to draw every walker for miles?”

Dale shook his head. “I think we’re okay.”

“You call being stupid okay?”

“Well, the alarm was echoing all over these hills. Hard to pinpoint the source. I'm not arguing. I'm just saying.” Dale responded before turning to Glenn. “It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?”

“I’m sorry.” Glenn nodded. “I got a cool car though.”

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest. “It is pretty sweet.”

“See?” Glenn chuckled.

As everyone began to welcome Glenn back, a truck slowly pulled in behind the Charger. Andrea was the first to hop out, her legs shaking as her feet hit the ground.

“Amy.” She called out.

“Andrea!” Amy cheered, rushing over to her sister and pulling her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrea replied, pulling away and holding her sister's face in her hands. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Next a man named Morales hopped out, his wife and kids running over to greet him.

Dale smiled. “I thought we had lost you folks for sure.”

“How’d y’all get out of there anyway?”

“New guy,” Morales replied. “He got us out.”

“New guy?” You asked.

“Yeah, crazy dude just got into town.” Morales nodded before looking back at the truck. “Helicopter boy! Come say hello.”

Your eyes drifted to Amy and Andrea, still holding one another as Amy continued to ask if Andrea was okay. They made you think of your brother. You would give just about anything to see him again; to be able to hug him and know he was okay.

“Oh my god.”

Your eyes widened, the voice all too familiar. You slowly turned your head, your jaw just about falling to the ground.

“Rick?”

“Dad!” Carl's voice rang out as he ran towards his father.

Rick took his son in his arms, falling to his knees. “Carl.” He choked, tears falling down his cheeks.

Lori ran over, joining the hug and burying her head in her husband's neck. You watched on, frozen in disbelief. 

The hug was over and Rick turned his attention to you, his eyes still full of tears.

He called your name, his voice breaking. 

You finally allowed yourself to breathe again, all feeling in your body springing back to life. How was this possible? Shane had told you he was dead.

Pushing your confusion aside, you walked towards your brother, pulling him into a hug.

“I thought you were dead.” You whispered in his ear, your voice breaking.

The two of you pulled away from each other and Rick smiled softly. “You think I’d want to miss all of this?”

You chuckled, a tear falling down your cheek. 

Shane soon caught your eye, standing behind the hood of one of the cars. You expected him to be smiling and laughing like everyone else, but instead, his face was the same as it had been the night he told you Rick had been shot.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this first chapter, I really hope you all enjoyed it! If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3

[elderscrollsconceptart]

An update from Wes Johnson on his medical GoFundMe 👇

-----

And now... a word from my friend Wes:

Home. It’s only been weeks but it feels like years. By all accounts, I shouldn’t be here to write this, but I responded in a miracle-like fashion to heroic efforts by the Emory University Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit. Doctors and nurses told me they were surprised that I was coming back completely undamaged, but then, none of us knew just how many people were in my corner. This was my George Bailey moment. I got a chance to see how many people cared in this crazy world. Doctors told my wife that she needed to immediately get to Georgia and prepare for the end of my life. When I came out of the medically induced coma days later, I discovered that the Alzheimer’s Association did what they normally do - create hope and give support in the most difficult of times. AA stayed with me 24/7 until they had my family flown in to be with me, putting them up in rooms. Unbelievable kindness. My friends Bill Glasser and Shari Elliker helped Kim put together a GoFundMe page to help with medical expenses (or worse if it came to that). Bill moved heaven and earth to make things happen and I can never repay my dearest friend for everything he’s done. My friends Bethesda Game Studios shared the link and said heartbreakingly wonderful things, and the Washington Capitals came through big, with Ted Leonsis making a huge donation that completely blew me away. He didn’t have to do that. No one had to do any of these things. My dear friend Kenny Vigue did a “Wes Johnson Day” event on FalloutForHope’s twitch page where so many of my friends, colleagues and peers showed up to talk about me. The kind of things that people said there and on social media, in print, tv and across my phone texts were what you expected only to be said after you could no longer hear them. So much love was sent my way, and by the time I woke up, it was as overwhelming as the tears of joy it induced. There are no words that can describe the love I received and the love I feel for everyone at this moment. My body is relearning to move, and my voice is coming back strong. I’m so lucky that I now have TIME to heal, to reflect, and to refocus my life on joy. Because in the alternative, there was NOTHING. What happens now is a gift, and I am so grateful for it, and for every single person who reached out during this crisis. It’s shown me what is important. My wife Kim, and sons Ben, Sam &amp; Max, who are my world. My brothers Rick, Scott & Chris, my sister Michelle and her husband Sebastian who traveled 10 hours to be with me as I slept. My cousin Dan and dear friend Roger who dropped everything to race to Atlanta and be by my side. The thousands of people who wrote, messaged, donated, and told me I had touched their lives in some way. Each and every one has touched my life, and nothing can ever be the same. Every moment is special. It is extra. It is a gift. And as my body heals and I move forward, I hope to use this gift to help share the joy that everyone has given to me. But today… I rest. Thank you. Much love to you all.

[onlydemonz]

Beneath The Surface || TWD x Fem!Surgeon!Reader

a/n: part 2 of chapter one is here. Previously (ᴾᵃʳᵗ ¹) - Ｃｏｍａ

Not much else to say other than I really appreciate everyone for reading, reblogging, etc and I'm really grateful for you all! (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠) I know it's a bit slow but who doesn't love a good, looong, build up, am I right? (⁠~⁠￣ ³ ￣⁠)⁠~

18+! Adults ONLY!

Chapter One Summary: You are, [First/Name], [Last/Name]. A 24 year-old surgeon with a deep dark rooted secret in a small town hospital in Georgia. The best in the business. Knowing your worth, you are very into yourself. You don’t follow rules nor do you obey laws (except for medical ones. Sometimes.) A troublemaker turned surgeon. A damn good one, though. One day, a cop is rushed to your hospital. You are quick on the job and perform surgery on him. After resting for a while, you check up on the patient. However, you realize he might be in a coma.

Word Count: 7.9k

Chapter One Part 2 Content/Warnings: hurting your pretty lungs with cigarette smoke, age gap, drugs, strong language, Boujee Egotistical Reader, alcohol, long (if anymore should be added for this chapter, please let me know)

Chapter One - Before The Fall - Part Two

Harrison Memorial Hospital

A Couple Of Weeks Later

It's been two weeks since Rick’s arrival and things at Memorial have been about the same. The only difference is that you’ve been seeing a lot of Officer Walsh lately. He comes everyday to see Rick and every time he comes in, he looks more grim. You haven’t talked to him since that day and thought it best to try to stay away from him. 

However, unlike the others, today is different. Officer Walsh walks into the hospital and checks himself in. Like clockwork, no big deal there, but on his face is an optimistic smile, hope can be seen in his eyes a mile away. You watch him walk up to Rick’s room and physically see him take a huge breath in. He grabs the handle of the door and with beautiful flowers in his other hand, he opens it, walks into the room and closes the door behind him.

You take a sigh yourself and continue looking through the files near the nurse's station. Come to think of it. You haven’t seen Mrs. Grimes as much as you’ve seen Officer Walsh. That's odd, isn’t it? She should be here. Every minute of every day, but she’s not. You know it's not any of your business, besides, what’d it matter to you? You got some alone time with Rick. Coma or not, being in his presence, gliding your bare hands against his soft skin…is ecstasy. 

About 10-20 minutes later, Officer Walsh walks out of the room looking put out. Like, all the faith, belief, and hope got knocked right out of him. You notice him rush down the hallway, tears threatening to stream down his face. You glance over the clock and realize that you still have half your shift left over.  You groan, most likely going to have to ask Gale to take cover for you.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted to actually talk to him today. Maybe it was seeing him so lifted and so depressed so quickly…Maybe you could help him feel slightly better? Gotta get a hold of Gale first. You grab your flip phone and dial up Gale’s number. Putting it to your ear, you wait for her to answer.

“Hello, Doctor (Last name)? Is everything okay?” You hear her gentle voice through the speaker of the phone and you begin placing the files of patients away, while grabbing a stack of different ones. Turning on your heel and walking to your office. 

“Ah, yes, Doctor Macones. Everything is fine.” You say, tilting your head and lifting your shoulder a little to hold the phone to your ear while you open the door. “I just…have a favor…” you mention, using your foot to close the door behind you as you set the files on your desk.

“What’s the favor? I’ll help you any way I can.” She replies and you place your hand onto your desk, leaning over it slightly.

“Glad to hear that. Um…can you totally cover my shift?” You ask, nervously playful. Hoping you didn’t scare her off. You never leave work early, so you’re hoping she just lets this one slide. 

It's quiet on the other end for a few seconds and then she speaks again. “How’s your side of the hospital looking?” She questions.

“It’s definitely quiet over here. I should be free of appointments until tomorrow.” You respond back, flipping through the files on your desk.

You hear a soft sigh come through. “Okay, I’ll cover the rest of your shift, but you know I’m not the surgeon here.” She mentions as a matter of fact.

“I know, but thank you for this. I really appreciate it.” You say, taking your phone from your ear and ending the call. You walk behind your desk and pull out your chair. There, under it, is a decently sized gym bag with all the necessities you need at work. A pair of clothes, bras, panties, socks, shower stuff, chargers, basically everything neatly stored away. You place the bag onto the top of your desk, unzip it and shuffle through it's contents. You grab a blouse and a skirt, along with a jewelry bag. 

You change your clothes into more comfortable wear. The smell of hospital and sterilization disappears as you grab a small bottle of perfume from your bag and spray yourself. It’s not very big but you barely use it because it was a gift. You don’t really go anywhere without it either; almost always on your person. Anyway, you grab a pearl necklace and secure it gently around your neck. A matching pearl bracelet to go with it, easily securing that on your wrist.

In your bag, you once again shuffle around within its contents and pull out a small key hidden away somewhere inside your bag. Leaning down and sitting on your feet, you unlock one of the desk drawers. Pulling out the drawer and there sits your Premium Gucci purse with expensive contents around it. Grabbing your purse, you close the desk drawer, lock it, and hide the key away.

Okay, you are ready now and it’s time to get the fuck out of here and find Officer Walsh before he leaves the hospital for the day. Maybe he already has but if he hadn’t…You swiftly but neatly put everything back and place the bag under your desk again, Pushing the chair back in it's place.

You exit your office, locking that behind you as well. Perhaps he came back inside to see Rick again? Visiting hours aren’t over yet, you think. So, you decide to check back at Rick’s room. Looking around, he didn’t seem to be outside, so you check inside. Peeking your head in, but not a soul is here except for Rick. You sigh, watching him for a couple seconds. Hoping he’d move or…something…

But alas, he just lays there, peacefully. You gently close the door and turn around. He wouldn’t be in the waiting room, would he? He’s probably gone now, but you could catch him outside? He’s usually here for a couple hours, isn't he?

Walking down the hallway and towards the elevator next to the cafeteria, you press the down button and take the elevator to the waiting room. Swiftly, walking to the entrance of the doors that’s between the inner parts of the hospital and the waiting room; you see Gale on your way out before reaching those doors. She looks at you and smiles, barely stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh…? You look pretty. Where are you going?” She asks playfully. You glance next to her a young blonde woman stands next to her.

“Uh..oh, I just…gotta go. Don’t worry, I'll be back tomorrow.” You reply, quickly walking past Gale and the nurse with a small blush on your cheeks. Waving at them as you open a door to the other side. They wave back at you as disappear behind them.

You glance around the waiting room, Officer Walsh is not here. Memorial today almost seems desolate. Only the receptionists sit in the empty room.

Slow day, huh? Well, it definitely benefits you anyway. Determined to talk to him, you scurry out of the entrance of the hospital. Quickly seeing Shane down a ways past where you usually take your smoke break. You stop completely and stare in his direction. He’s got his head down, leaning against the brick wall with one of his hands in his pockets.

There’s a gentle breeze guiding you towards his direction and you accept the universe’s offer. Before taking any further steps, you grab yourself a cigarette out of a pack in your purse and light it up. Walking down the pavement, your kitten pumps make soft clicks against the floor as you take a deep drag, but he’s so distracted that he doesn’t even see you coming. Standing in front of him, you sway your purse lightly and give him a friendly smile, smoke leaving through your nose as you lean over in his face mere inches from yours. “Hi there, Officer Walsh.” You say almost playfully.

He just looks at you, eyes slightly red and bags under his eyes. You lean back upwards and his gaze nonchalantly follows yours. “Oh…Dr. (Last Name)...what are you doing here? Is something wrong with Rick?” He questions, his tired eyes becoming slightly wide from the worst possible scenario running through his brain. Your smile turns into a nervous one as you rub the back of your head. 

“O-oh, no, no. He’s fine. In terms of…ya know…” You mention, biting the inside of your cheek, hanging your head. You stop in your sentence and look up at him. His head also hangs low and heavy as forced despair fills the expression on his face.

You feel so terrible for him. For Rick…the smile on your face falls as you also feel the energy of his hopelessness and sadness engulf the air around you both. It’s suffocating almost, but you wanted to ask him something. Something that would most likely make him feel worse but you can handle it. You can make him feel better, just gotta fucking go for it. “I…don’t mean to pry but…” you start with a delicate voice, taking almost rhythmic puffs of your cig in between silences and sentences.

He doesn’t look up at you anymore and sighs, acknowledging that he’s listening, but also exhausted because he feels like he might know where this is going. 

“Earlier…when you were visiting Officer Grimes…you seemed so…so much lighter…” you continue, watching his form unmoving, “so…hopeful. But then you came out and you just…you just-”

“I just what…?” He spits, becoming slightly agitated because you’re not getting the hint that he doesn’t want to be fucking bothered. Especially not by someone like you. Glaring at you, eyebrows tightly knitted together.

“You just looked so hurt…” You say softly, your facial expression falling; revealing some of your true feelings.  

He scoffs with a sad sarcastic smirk and looks away from you, darting at the other side of himself and then at the floor in front of him. His mask slips and his smile disappears as his mind is flooded with Rick, where he got the flowers from, and how it's been going in general.

“So, Iii…wanted to check up on you. See how you were doing…”

And then there’s you. Talking to him…smiling at him…treating him like a person and emphasizing with him. When did you change? Was it overnight? Are you playing some dirty trick? Have…you always cared like this?

Officer Walsh finally looks at you again. He’s got a slightly bewildered expression on his face as his mind runs miles a minute. Trying to wrap his head around the situation, but his gaze is definitely a lot softer this time. He watches you as your voice fades back into his brain. “-wanted to take you out or something. Are you down with that?” You question and wait for his response.

He realizes that you’re waiting on something. You were asking him something, weren’t you? “Uhm…wait…wh-what were you saying?” He mentions, back in the present.

You sigh and shake your head, placing your free hand on your hip. “You really weren’t listening? I came all this way and you’re not even listening.” You mention, slightly annoyed by his dismissiveness.

He huffs and slumps his shoulders even more than before. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy and I certainly didn’t ask for your company.” He scoffs again and gives the same sarcastic smirk he gave you earlier.

“You didn’t have to ask. It’s obvious-literally written all over you.” You say as a matter-of-fact.

He laughs and retorts your reply. “You don’t get it,” he furrows his eyebrows, “you don’t know what the fuck I need and you sure as hell don’t know me.”

“I know that this situation has been extremely hard on you. I can see you're suffering in silence-I’m just trying to help.” You mention voice stiffening and taking an agitated hit, furrowing your eyebrows at his hostile behavior. Granted you knew that asking that question in the first place was probably going to trigger him to react this way. You’re prepared to handle his angry and lone wolf demeanor. Without his packmate, he's just a scared puppy and you excuse his actions, feeling they were just out of pain rather than actually anger towards you. 

It’s quiet between the both of you as you avoid each other's eyes. Officer Walsh takes a glance at you. You’re standing there so elegantly, your purse held between your hands as you stare off into the distance, smoking drags off your cigarette. Zoning out in your cute outfit as he silently scans over your figure with intensiveness. Your pretty breasts peek through the top of your casual blouse, followed by a skirt that fits the shape of your hips nicely. Pearls sit neatly around your neck and wrist, matching the ones you have in your ears. The makeup you’re wearing is actually a lot nicer than most and he wonders to himself how long it takes you to do it.

Suddenly, he watches your chest expand and contract as you take a deep sigh with faded gray and white smoke fill the air around you. Your face lingers a soft unreadable expression and he couldn’t help feeling that this awkward silence might be because of him. However, you did ask and say stupid things after all, but even though he doubted you earlier, he’s never seen you react this way. Technically, he’s never seen you really react in any way except for those arrogant looks when you decided to acknowledge his existence, but now, now you’re not showing signs of that all. Maaaybe…he should give you a chance.

“Alright.” Officer Walsh pipes up out of nowhere. You blink a few times and look over at him, already got his eyes on you as a small smile stretches over his lips. 

“Alright?” You repeat, raising an eyebrow. A smile is now growing on your lips as well. “You taking my offer?”

“Alright. Fine. Sure. Let’s go fucking do something. I could use a drink.” He elaborates, standing upright from the wall as you mentally celebrate in your head and your smile grows even wider, lighting up in the process. 

“I’m so glad!” You exclaim, suddenly putting out your cigarette and wrapping your arm around his. Officer Walsh, blushes lightly, slightly taken aback by your sudden closeness. Your breasts squished against his arm and he can feel it morph softly around it. He looks down at you as you look forward with a closed eyed smile. Because he’s taller than you, when he looks down at you, he can see slightly inside your shirt, peeking at your chest. “By the way, you can call me, (First name).” You mention.

“(First name)...” He softly states, your first name rolling off his tongue. You blush and feel slightly embarrassed by someone who always refers to you by Doctor (Last name). It rarely happens in King County since all the locals and people alike refer to you by your professional title. “That's a pretty name…” He says slowly, trailing off. 

“O-oh…thank you, Officer Walsh…” You say softly. Again, embarrassment fills your insides as you softly grip his arm subconsciously.  In return, he playfully flexes his arm, his muscles hardening under your fingertips. You look over in his direction, glancing at his arm and then up at him, mouth slightly agape. He starts laughing and you turtleneck a little, looking away from him, your legs pressed against each other tightly as sudden heat beckons your attention to its ever growing tensions between your thighs. A small knot is created at the pit of your stomach and you nonchalantly start squeezing his arm again. Feeling him up a little.

“You’re cute, (First name).” He suddenly mentions out of the blue, the blush on your cheeks becomes more apparent. “Call me, Shane.” He says, smiling brightly. 

“Heheh, well Shane, let me show you what it's like to party with the wealthy.” You smirk, guiding him towards your first destination on foot. 

Finally reaching a beautiful lit bar with long vine plants outside hanging from the canopy. A valet stands outside of the building wearing classy clothing. As you get closer to the entrance, another employee is standing by the front door and opens it for both of you.

“Thank you.” You say, walking inside as Shane follows after you, almost a look of astonishment exudes his expression already. Once inside, his face and dark brown eyes are lit up by a gorgeous chandelier with dangling ornaments hanging from it. Classic Victorian paintings are placed subtly around the walls with long red drapes put upon the windows. He looks around in amazement as he continues to follow you up to a man wearing a suit, standing elegantly in front of a pedestal. The nicely dressed man smiles, not looking up at you but at his book ready to flick through at any time. “Reservations?” He asks.

You don’t even have time to respond. The moment the man glances up at you, he becomes frazzled and fixes himself quickly. “Ms. (Last name)! I’m so sorry, please, right this way!” He exclaims, trying not to sound too surprised by your presence. 

“Haha, oh calm down. It’s no big deal. Besides,” You say, as the older man takes you and Shane to a bar and bows slightly. You both take your seats and the man smiles nervously, “I do always appreciate the way you treat me, Kevin, but you don’t always have to guide me to the bar. You’re the only one who does it.” You mention as Shane watches the interaction between you and this…Kevin.

“It’s really not a problem at all. Enjoy, Ms. (Last Name) and Ms. (Last name)’s guest.” He replies with such gracefulness that only Shane has seen in movies. This establishment has been sitting at the edge of the block and since it always looked so empty, Shane never took it upon himself to visit. There were no calls or complaints so there was no reason to check it out. However, it had always had a fancy exterior but that kind of crowd never interested him before anyway. He looks over at you. The older man takes his leave and you glance at Shane, giving him a smile as you turn towards the bartender appearing in front of you. 

Until now, he wants to experience something of what it’s like to have connections. Just coming into a place like this for 10 minutes is enough to settle his thoughts and just go with the flow. See where this night really takes him. 

So, he continues to observe your interactions with the people of this kind of life. You seem to know them well as you smile and ask for the regular. The townspeople were right about something. 

You gained some sort of wealth almost overnight. How? That question is bugging him a little as you then turn to face Shane, resting your elbow against the bar and placing your hand on your cheek, holding your head up with it. You give Shane an amusing smile, noticing how he’s staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Are you that surprised?” You question out of the blue and chuckle at him. Shane blinks a few times and clears his throat, almost looking through you.

“No, I just couldn’t get enough of that beautiful face.” He replies with a playful smirk, changing the subject quickly as the bartender comes over with two glasses of alcohol.

“Ooh, is that so? I knew you couldn’t resist my amazing charm.” You playfully retort.

Shane laughs at your boast. “You really are full of yourself, aren't you, (First name)?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and lifting the glass to his lips.

You watch as he takes a swig, the ice clanking against each other when he tilts it slightly to feed it into his mouth. Shane’s Adam's apple fluctuates as he suddenly drinks the entire glass in one go. You stare at him with wide impressed eyes as he slams the glass onto the counter in the process. 

The bartender from before is quick in front of both of you and takes the old glass and swiftly replaces it with a new one. You nod at the bartender and he walks away to other customers.

Raising an eyebrow at Shane, you take a sip of your drink and place it back down onto the soft napkin. “Woah, slow down there, partner. Having a bad day?” You ask, rubbing your finger around the rim of your glass, hoping Shane will finally spill the beans about why he was so upset today.

Shane sighs heavily, the smile he held for so long drops for the first time since you've gotten here. He stays quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond to that question. You wait patiently for him to answer, but alas, his mouth seems to be knitted shut. He probably just needs a push.

“Come on, you can tell me. I am a Doctor after all. I have to listen no matter how frivolous it may seem.” You mention, taking another sip from your drink, giving him a soft stern face. To show how serious you are.

“We're not at the hospital.” 

“No, but even you know, our duties never really end just because we're outside of work. If someone got a heart attack or was stabbed right now, out of nowhere, who would they ask for?” You ask him blatantly.

He doesn't respond but you are right and it's got him thinking. He glances at you, trying not to show his interest, but he is. He's taking a peek at you from his peripherals. The crystal orange glow envelopes your skin and pearls beautifully. Making you shine brighter than he's ever seen you. 

You swig down the rest of your glass and gently place it onto the neatly folded napkin, taking a breath out. The same bartender is quick with another drink as you nod and mouth a ‘thank you’.

His eyes turn back towards the bar case in front of him. Shane doesn't want to admit it, but he's actually kind of…enjoying himself. You annoy the hell out of him, but at the same time, you fascinate him too. It's not easy for someone to make him speechless, but you did just that.

“So, how has Officer Walsh been today? Is he finally going to tell me?” You playfully question, holding the alcohol in your hand and pointing at him.

Shane grabs his glass and suddenly downs his second drink in a mere flash. He doesn't look in your direction but you can see him sigh deeply again, like he's thinking hard about something. “I'll tell you-”

Instantaneously, a smile stretches on your lips but Shane stops you mid-excitement. “-Only if you can catch up to me.” He explains, nonchalantly. The bartender comes around once again, swiftly and gracefully, recovering the empty glass and changing it with a new one. 

“Thank you.” Shane says to the bartender, lifting the glass, smiling lightly as he turns to face you. “Better get drinking.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and a confident smirk grazes your lips as the familiar bartender continues to stand elegantly in front of both of you. Hands behind his back, ready for your drinking challenge to begin. “Don't have to tell me twice-” Your smirk becomes mischievous and in a blink of an eye, your glass is empty. Not just empty, but completely bone dry and you again, place the glass down gracefully on the thick cloth underneath. 

The bartender is swift with another drink in front of you, as if you've done this many times before. Shane is so taken aback by how fast you can drink, that he completely forgot to drink his own. Which in turn, causes you to chug down the third one, before his glass can even touch his lips. “Wow…” He says, amazement hinted in his voice. 

“This is nothing.” You mention. Gliding your finger around the rim of your glass, as you have done earlier. You can definitely feel it now. At least the tipsy aspect of it. Your eyes finally meet and you smile at him, genuinely.

“So…we can keep drinking and you'll lose and have to tell me anyway or-” You grab the glass about to take down your fourth one, “you can just tell me now.” You state, now softly swirling the glass, making the liquid twirl inside of it. Yet, not a single drop landed outside of the cup. 

Shane looks at you, forearms resting onto the glistening bar counter. He takes a sip of his drink and then sets it down gently. Shane's warm dark brown eyes then meet yours once more. “What do you want to know?” He questions, hoping you'd start, since he'd technically prefer not to talk about it, but for some reason, you wouldn't let up. That's one of the parts of you that annoyed him.

“Honestly, I just wanted to know how you're doing. You seemed pretty upset earlier.” You mention, taking a sip from your glass.

Shane's eyes dart away for a moment, tilting his head, his lips slightly agape, as if figuring out how to say whatever he's about to say. You watch as his pink tongue peeks passed his lips and then quickly rolls back in. It teases you, just for a second, but it's enough to feel a familiar fire develop in the very pit of your stomach. A small amount of blush creeps onto your cheeks and you look away from him, hoping he didn't catch your embarrassed expression. However, Shane isn't looking at you. He's deep in thought, so you're able to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank fuck, he's not paying attention. Even after all this time, I'm still dealing with this…

“I…Rick…” Shane tries to pull the sentence from his throat but he's taken aback by this feeling of overwhelming sadness. It becomes hard for him to speak and you catch this quite quickly. Slowly, you place a hand onto his knee and he looks towards your direction. The moment his eyes stare into yours, you can see the dark despair in them, glistening with glossiness. Shane takes a heavy sigh and finally, the words come out of his stitched up mouth. “You know…” He begins, “we train so many times to prepare us for that exact situation we were in. Day n’ night, we shot guns and made sure we always had each other's backs no matter what…and yet…”

You felt like you already knew where Shane was getting at. 

He blames himself for Rick getting shot.

Shane continues, “I should've seen the guy. Hiding behind the fucking car. I should’ve been the one…I should be the one on that hospital bed…” He mentions, gulping down the rest of his drink. “Rick's got so much to live for, he's got people that need him. A family…”

“Shane.” You state his name and his slightly drunken state, looks over at you again. “Yes, you're not the one on that hospital bed but you aren't to blame for Mr. Grimes getting shot. Not seeing the guy? Look, I know, and so does everyone else, that if you could swap places, you would. You have something to live for and if you don't, find something to live for. I know damn well you have as much to give as Mr. Grimes.”

Shane's eyes start to become more glossy as you speak. You're right and you said it perfectly. It didn't take a scientist to see that Shane truly did blame himself for Rick’s comatose. Believes that he's more deserving than his best friend is. He truly did wish he could take Rick's place in that bed. In that room.

“Those flowers you brought today for Mr. Grimes, they were really pretty.” You say, softly.

A small smile appears on Shane's lips and he chuckles a little looking forwards. “Yeah, som gals in dispatch picked out the vase and everyone else just kind of pitched in. Thought he might like it.”

Feeling the sensation of tears welling up in his eyes, Shane takes this chance and tries to change the subject once more.

“You know, there is something that could make me feel better-” He mentions, sniffling quickly and replacing his sad smile with a mischievous smirk, clearly trying to hide his sorrow.

You thought it best to respect his indirect wishes and play along as he seems to have given you all the feelings inside of himself he's willing to expose to you. “Oh?” A cute smirk spreads across your lips and you turn your body to face him and place your hand against your cheek, resting your elbow onto the smooth bar counter as one of your eyebrows raise with playful suspicion. “And how could I possibly help you feel better?” 

The moment you spoke those last words, instantaneously, Shane shifts his body to face you, though he isn't looking at you, his right knee grazes against yours. It's just a small touch but it shoots shock waves inside your bones. Like an overwhelming electric pulse rushing through you and hitting all of your vital points just right. Your heart begins to pound against your chest.

“You are a doctor after all.” 

“A surgeon,” you corrected.

Shane playfully rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Think I might need a personal check up or somethin.” He replies, slowly turning his head to look at you. His face has a soft pink hue and his bold eyes stare deep into yours. You gulp and try to keep your composure, but it's kind of hard when you have this fine, strong, and handsome man sitting next to you, giving you gentle, inviting, and sexy advances. 

Granted, you have a fierce appetite. Scraps aren’t enough but there’s only one man able to truly satisfy your every need and it’s been so long since your last fill of said man, but Shane is looking better than any “scrap” you’ve met since you’ve last touched him.

“Tell me…” you respond softly as you place your left hand on top of Shane's, lightly gliding it up his forearm, “where does it hurt?” You ask, continuing to ride your fingers past his elbow and against his bicep. 

“Is it your arm?” You have a pleasant look on your face, the alcohol finally reaching your inner workings.

“Nah, it ain’t that-” 

“Oh, I get it.” You playfully retort. Your eyes follow your hand, admiring his muscles. “It’s a little closer to home?”

Shane parts his lips, a raspy breath escapes past his tongue. His mouth suddenly feels really dry and he takes his free hand, grabbing and then drinking up the rest of his glass, as if hoping that’d quench his sudden thirst. If anything, it just added to his intoxicated and horny form. “So I’m guessing I’m right?” 

You giggle at him, your soft fingers reaching up to his neck. Making the goosebumps on his skin rise up under your fingertips. Shane slightly tenses his jaw as your hand delicately guides his head to your direction, so he’s facing you once more. The moment Shane meets eye contact with you, he can feel this intense pull, ushering something inside of himself towards you.

 “You could say that…” He responds in a faded, drucken tone. Huffing lowly, his eyes falling down to your lips. His mind becomes foggy from his dirty thoughts as a tight tug from below his jeans beckons his attention. 

He subconsciously licks his lips and growls under his breath. “But, honestly…you ain’t helping, doc.” He mumbles, taking his gaze up to your eyes. 

You smile and glide your fingernail over his chin, down his neck, and trace over his collarbone. From right to left, left to right, ever so slowly. “You’re just making it worse.”

“Oh, is that so?” You lean closer to Shane. Close enough to smell your favorite alcohol on his breath. “Then I guess I better prescribe something.” You state, running your digit down where his collarbone joined and between his hardened pecs. “But fair warning, I don’t take insurance-” You teased.

Shane lets out a breathy laugh, but there’s something heavier behind it when his eyes flick again towards your lips and then back to your piercing, drucken gaze. 

“You always like this?” He asks, voice deep and almost hushed. “Or is it just with me?”

You tilt your head slightly, grinning. “Why? Jealous?”

“Actually, this side of you…” He trails off, now meeting  you with the same amount of distance. Both your lips are centimeters away from touching. Shane gently places a hand on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze. “...is really turning me on.” He says with a low, husky voice.

Biting your lip; every touch Shane made drives you crazy.

This. This is why you’ve tried to stay away from him. Shane is his own person, but there wasn't a Shane without Rick. He reminds you of him.

How Rick would subtly and sweetly touch you. His cute mannerisms and playful demeanor when he was away from Lori and Carl and everyone else he felt like he had to hide his true self from. Stuck to playing the dutiful, brave, strong, and loving cop husband. 

But you've always known the real Rick.

Yes, he’s always been a respectful and courageous man but there was so much more to him. Watching him risk his life in situations when you were growing up, you admired him and honestly, you miss him greatly. Your heart begins to ache thinking about the old days when you and Rick were thriving together. 

Rick may not be here, he may be in a coma, lying face up to a ceiling, but having Shane here with you, makes it feel like Rick is right in front of you again. Touching you. Returning your gaze. 

Maybe if you were drunk enough, or stupid enough, you might let yourself believe that Shane is Rick, but you're not either of those things.

The aching in your heart slowly subsides and is replaced with a painful longing. You suddenly have the urge to cry, which is rare, but you’re a strong woman and you take that title very seriously. Always refusing to let your emotional feelings show and tonight wasn't an exception, but you feel slightly sick to your stomach.

It seems that it might be getting to you.

To distract yourself from the pain in your chest and the sick feeling in your stomach, you wave down the bartender. He gracefully comes towards you both, standing in front you specifically. “What can I get you, Ms. (Last Name)?” 

“Give me your strongest.” You state, looking away from Shane, waiting for a new glass.

Shane raises an eyebrow as he watches the bartender put a drink in front of you. He doesn't remove his hand from your knee. You definitely didn't want him to and you're glad that he's not taking anything the wrong way.

“You want one, Shane? Shit will knock you on your ass.” You mention, lifting the glass off the neatly placed cloth. You look at him and he's got a confused expression on his face. 

“Uh, sure.” The bartender is swift the second Shane agrees. There, in front of him, the bartender places a clear liquor drink with a new semi-dry cloth. “Don't you gotta play doctor in the morning?” Shane questions, lifting his glass as well.

You don't wait for Shane to even get the glass to his lips as you are quick to chug yours. Already slightly drunk from before, mixed with the bitter taste on your tongue, willing drops of the alcohol sloppily dribble down your chin. Leaking down onto your breasts and staining your shirt. 

Both Shane and the bartender watch the alcohol drip onto your slightly exposed breasts. 

Oh what Shane wouldn't give to take his tongue and lick it up off of you. 

You place the drink back down onto the clothed napkin and take a breather as you use your wrist and wipe away any excess liquid on your face, causing you to smear your lipstick a bit. You sigh deeply and grab your head and groan. “Ughhh, if I wasn't drunk before, I sure as hell am now.”

You look towards Shane, who's staring you down with a particular glint in his eyes, then turn your attention to the bartender who suddenly clears his throat and grabs the empty glass for cleaning. Raising a curious eyebrow once again, you give Shane a questioning countenance with half-lidded eyes. “What? Did I do something?” You ask with genuine perplexity in your voice.

Shane just chuckles and points to the side of his face. “You uh, you…kinda messed up your lipstick.”

“Oh-” Quickly, you go through your bag, swaying softly from side to side. It’s a subtle rhythm but it's enough to tell that you were at your limit. As you were shuffling through your purse to grab a hand mirror, Shane never let go of your knee. He tightened his grip a little, which you didn’t notice. He should be as drunk as you right now, once he takes his side of the shot, he will be. Currently, he’s pretty toasty himself and it seems that drinking this particular drink will make him as drunk as you are.

However, Shane is holding off on downing his glass. As you’re clearing the colored stain from the side of your pretty lips, Shane couldn’t help but feel curious about you. You know a little bit about him but he literally knows nothing about you. You just appeared one day, and suddenly, you were the talk of town.

This place…

Shane’s eyes glance around the upscale decor. A place he basically had written off as non-existence because nothing seemed to be happening here, but, now that he’s here, its buzzing. There’s a decent amount of people mingling with fancy garments, expensive jewelry, fat cigars, and exorbitant drinks. 

No one Shane can recognize is here, not that he can tell at least.

His gaze drifts back to you as you put on the final touches—reapplying gloss to your cute, fleshy lips. It’s the kind of detail that tugs at his attention more than it should. 

Shane's eyes travel around your body. The glamorous pearls resting gently around your neck, ears, and wrist. The way your skin seems to sparkle under the low light. How perfectly you’ve styled your hair. Everything about you screams money—real money. The kind you’re born into or bleed for.

Where the hell did you attain all this wealth? 

Can a mere surgeon really make so much as to litter herself with branded purses and elaborate jewelry? 

Something deeper is going on with you, you’re hiding something. He can feel it.

But that’s not the only thing that’s been gnawing at him. It’s you. The way your body leans just a little too close. The way your perfume clings to him. Your pheromones are so heavy and intense, it’s like standing in the middle of a heatwave.

He begins to wonder if you’re wet right now. 

How his hard cock would feel shoved down your throat…

Focus.

Still, he sees an opening. Now feels like the perfect time to get something out of you.

“Thanks for letting me know.” You mention, your words slightly slurred.

Shane hesitates. There’s a glimmer of guilt; he knows you’re vulnerable, and it feels a little wrong to push. But the badge in his gut tells him to do it anyway. If there’s one thing being a cop has taught him, it’s when to ask questions—and when someone’s too buzzed to notice what they’re giving away.

Sometimes, it benefits to be an officer of the law. 

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he says, watching as you start to sway slightly in your seat.

You groan, dragging a groggy hand across your cheek and up to your forehead. You suck your teeth and let out a slow, heavy sigh.

“Wait…what did you ask…?” Your voice is laced with a worn-out kind of annoyance, like you’re too tired to pretend to care.

“I asked about you drinking this much if you have to work tomorrow.” He responds.

“What are you? My dad?” You grumble, taking a moment to take in what he’s saying. After a few seconds, you nod in understanding. “Aaahh. Well, if you’re saying that I won’t be able to do my job, you’re mistaken, Officer Walsh.” You retort, crossing your arms and holding up your head. Trying to act serious, but your drunk swaying state is kind of taking away from your point.

“Oh, that was quick,” Shane mentions with a smile.

“What do you mean?” You ask, keeping your stance but showing interest.

“You got so informal with me. Feel like I'm grilling you?” He questions.

“Well,” You lower your posture and slowly uncross your arms, “kind of, yeah.”

“Well, I’m not,” he pauses for a moment, lifting the glass close to his mouth, “I just don’t know anything about you.” Shane admits.

You coyly smile as those words reach your ears and you somewhat playfully lean into him. “You want to know more about me?” You repeat his question in a sweet, sexy tone; the conversation peeking your curiosity. 

Shane chuckles and leans in as well, his hand swiftly riding past your knee and up your lower thigh. The sensation of his bare hand, starting to rub in circular motions around your thigh made your insides tie themselves in knots. Goosebumps prickle your skin and you bite the inside of your lip. He looks deep into your eyes. “I suppose I do.”

“Hm” You hum in response and grab a cigarette from your purse. Lighting it as well and taking a nice drag as the bartender swiftly places an ashtray in front of you. Shane takes the glass in his hand and chugs the whole thing in one go, watching him do so. “It's my turn huh? What do you want to know?” 

“Well,” he breathes out and looks away for a second. Shane then looks back at you, “are you sure you're going to be alright tomorrow?”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by his repetitive question. “Why are you so worried?” You ask, shaking your head with a curious smile. 

“I'm not worried-” he stops for a moment, trying to find the right words to say, “I'm just making sure you don't get fired or something.” 

You sarcastically scoff, laughing off his statement. “Fired? Oh please!”

“You think they won't?” He raises an eyebrow.

You eventually cease laughing and wipe an imaginary tear from your eye. “Hell no. I'm the best fucking surgeon in that place. They get rid of me, they get rid of their best asset.” You state, your ego slipping through the cracks, second hand smoke filling the air.

“Are you now?” 

“Hell fucking yes! I do everything there. Pick up everyone's slack and I graduated with the highest degree at Harvard.” You mention, pointing the hand that's holding the cigarette at Shane.

“Impressive and I'm sure your professors just loved having you as a student.” Shane coos with a playful tone of voice, his intoxication becoming more apparent as the minutes pass.

You gasp and give a disgusted look, squinting your eyes. “Are you implying that I slept my way through college?” 

Shane holds his hands up in defense, shaking his head, smiling. “Oh no, no of course not-”

“You fucking better not be. I worked fucking hard to get where I am.” You hiss, pointing your finger in his face. Your sharp manicured colored fingernail jabs at his nose. Shane bats away your hand and chuckles. 

“I'm just kidding, damn. Sweetheart, you're so feisty.” He coos again as his cheeks fill with a pinkish color. 

Yup, he's finally drunk. Both of you are now and his cooing causes a visible blush to creep onto your cheeks as well. You roll your eyes and lightly push his shoulder, an adorable toothy smile envelopes your facial expression. “Shut up, Shane.” You say, playfully.

Shane’s eyes once again trail down to your mouth. His mind starts to play an image of him, gently holding onto your cheeks as he's softly biting and pulling your bottom lip-

The conversation between you both dies down, the soft jazz clearing the awkwardness. It doesn’t take long for one of you to pipe up. “So…” he begins, “where are you from?” He asks, resting his head onto his hand, intrigued and awaiting your answer. Staring at you with goo-goo eyes.

“The million dollar question.” You joke, putting your cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Yup, that’s righ’. Lay it on me.” He teases, smiling flirtatiously.

“Okay, okay. I’m actually from here-”

“Oh, like Georgia?” He cuts you off and you roll your eyes again.

“No-I mean yes, I am, but I mean, that I’m actually from here. King county.” You mention.

His eyes become wide for a second. “You are? Like, went to school here and everything?”

You nod. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.” 

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Shane sucks his teeth, “not gonna lie, you’re kind of…” he pauses, “a bitch.”

“Whaaaat? No waaay.” You say, sarcastically.

“And uptight.” He mentions, chuckling.

“Hey, once you do what I do, done what I've done, come complain to me about how I carry myself.” You stick your tongue out at him.

“I’m just surprised that you grew up here. To be honest, now that I’m looking at you…” Shane’s sentence trails off, staring closely into your face. Almost like he’s looking into your soul. “You do seem pretty familiar. Like, I’ve seen you before.”

Suddenly, you stand up and stretch out your back, not without stumbling a little. “Fuuuuck, I'm so drunk right now.” You state, knocking Shane back to reality.

He continues to watch your form, glancing over every curve and exposed skin; he hasn’t stopped feeling hot either. Just watching you do normal things turns him on. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the crippling depression but he’s really craving you.

You point towards the door. “I kina wanna get outta here. Got ‘nother hotspot I wanna hit before going home. How bout tagging along?” You ask, going into your purse, pulling out your wallet, and handing a card to the bartender while subtly leaning over the counter. “Make sure it’s 20%.” You say to him, slurring your words in the process.

The bartender nods, then bows and walks away to a close by register. Shane thinks about it for a moment. Doesn’t he have to work tomorrow? Uh, he honestly can��t remember. He hasn’t really kept track of the time nor the days. It all seems to blend and mold together ever since Rick was put into a coma. Everyone down at the station understands his circumstance and the sheriff even encourages Shane to take time off of work, anyway.

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Shane raises his fist.

“Yes, thank you-”

“Thank you, Ms. (Last name). Have a wonderful rest of your night.” The bartender mentions, handing back your card and you grab it from him, placing it back into your wallet, replacing that into your purse.

You turn to look at Shane, smiling. “Sorry, ready to go?” You ask Shane.

He laughs at how drunk you are. “You’re cute when you’re drunk as fuck.” He mentions having trouble keeping his own balance. 

“Awe you think sooo? Maybe we should get drunk together more often, seem to like this side better.” You respond, resting a hand on your hip, playfully posing for Shane. 

“It's a pretty sexy side, if I have anything to say about it, but in all honesty, that’d be nice-now come on! Take me to your next destination!” Shane exclaims, raising his fist again. 

“Shit, don’t have to tell me twice. Follow me!” You point your finger towards the entrance and you both leave the bar. The door slamming behind you.

[writing-for-life]

Morpheus meets Matthew—The Rest Is History…

Swamp Thing: Final Payment (#84, March 1989)—Rick Veitch (writer), Tom Mandrake (penciller) & Alfredo Alcala (inker)

I’ve been itching to share these for our community re-read of “Into the Night” (#15).

Some of you might recognise these panels, but not everyone has read Swamp Thing (or watched the one season they gave us), and this is the first and only time Morpheus appears in it. So for those of you who don’t know and always wondered who Matthew was before he became a raven, here comes a bit of background info (spoilery, so skip if that’s not your thing):

Matthew Cable has been part of Swamp Thing since the very first issue in 1972. He was a government agent assigned to protect scientist Alec Holland and his wife (who were developing a biological formula to end world hunger) but failed to save them. He then mistakenly believed the Swamp Thing was the killer of Holland (the Swamp Thing initially also believed he was an altered form of Alec—all very convoluted, partly retconned at some point, too, but in short: When Alec was killed, his body was drenched with the formula, which affected the plants in the swamp. They basically formed a new organism that held his memory).

Lots of stuff happened in the years in between, and I won’t go into it all here, but suffice it to say that when Matthew the Raven admits he’s not always been a good person, that’s a bit of an understatement.

The Sandman #15, “Into the Night”

In short: He basically lost his mind, but that also gave him powers (to alter reality no less, ha! No wonder he piqued Dream’s interest 🤣). Unfortunately, Matt didn’t exactly use those powers for good (since he could only really access them when drunk or severely distressed, he had “wonderful” ideas like manipulating reality for creations he could have sex with, and those acts got more and more grotesque as time passed). That obviously wasn’t great for his marriage to Abigail Arcane (or rather: Holland at the time he meets Morpheus). Now you know why he got so excited about strip clubs in Brief Lives 🙈.

Matthew then had a car accident while driving under the influence in 1984.

Swamp Thing #84, cover art by John Totleben

Lots of goings on between this point and issue #84, but again long story short: Matthew eventually ended up in a coma, and since he was an organ donor, a corrupt hospital administrator uses him as an organ farm. Enter first Eve in dreams (ha! again) and then Morpheus, who basically advises him to end his life so his ex-wife Abby can exist in peace after all these years (she is pregnant with… something, which Morpheus also cryptically alludes to here. Plus the hospital administration tries to land her with a nearly 3 million dollar bill for all the years Matt has been on life support). Before Abby can unplug said life support herself, Matthew comes to, gathers all his strength for one final time and destroys the machines that keep him alive to spare Abby the guilt. In his final moments, he asks her to forgive him and move on. Also: He quite strictly did not die in his sleep, so how did that work? 🧐 Dream logic 🤣

Morpheus’ cameo had been agreed upon with NG at the time (he is mentioned in the credits). And since issue #84 has been published in March 1989, you can also tell that we’re pretty firmly in Sam Kieth territory, and that Mandrake & Alcala tried to replicate Dream’s look accordingly. Plus: The first issue in which Matthew the Raven appears in The Sandman (“Moving In” of The Doll’s House arc) was published in October 1989. So they had this cooking for a bit.

Oh, John Constantine also makes an appearance in that issue. They worked really hard at the time to tie it all together…