xoxo-sarah

[xoxo-sarah]

Dating Robin Buckley | Moodboard

“Red is the color of love. Beating hearts and hungry lips. Roses, Valentines, cherries.” — Mary Hogan

[xoxo-sarah]

Snowball Fight

↝a/n: the groundhog is a lying whore.

↝pairing: Magna x fem!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Magna, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 3.27.24

Magna grumbled as she trudged through the snow, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She never was a fan of the cold weather, and today was no exception. The wind whipped around her, sending a shiver down her spine. But despite her displeasure with the winter chill, she couldn't help but smile as she looked over at you. You were practically skipping through the snow, your laughter ringing out in the air.

"Come on, Magna, it's not that bad!" you called out, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Kids ran around you, smiles on their faces. "We're supposed to be having fun!"

Magna tried to maintain her usual grumpy facade, but it was hard to resist your infectious energy.

Before leaving the house, you had insisted on wrapping a colorful scarf around her neck, despite her protests, and she couldn't help but feel a warmth growing in her chest as she watched you. She had tried to not break a smile as she watched you step over the piles of snow.

"Fine, fine," Magna relented with a smirk. "But don't think this means I like the snow." She has repeatedly told you she wasn't a fan, but you insisted, wanting her to get out of the house.

You chuckled and then, without warning, gathered a handful of snow and swiftly molded it into a perfect snowball. Before Magna could react, you launched it at her, hitting her shoulder dead on. She glanced at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, before scooping up snow of her own.

What started as a lighthearted snowball fight soon turned into chaos. Laughter filled the air as snowballs flew back and forth between you and Magna. The people around were quick to join in. You, RJ, and Judith teamed up against Magna. For a brief moment, everyone forgot about the world outside their winter wonderland. No zombies, no dangerous missions, just people enjoying a carefree moment together.

As the snowball fight came to an end and the sun began to set, Magna found herself smiling more than she had in a long time. She never thought she could enjoy the cold so much, but with you by her side, even the harshest weather seemed bearable.

"Alright, you win," Magna said, brushing snow off her coat. "I'll admit, maybe the snow isn't so bad after all."

You grinned triumphantly, knowing that you had succeeded in bringing a little light into Magna's day.

Walking over to her, you went to put your arms around her waist, in return getting a face full of snow. Magna laughed, pulling her hand back, snow falling from between her fingers. She watched as snow fell from your cheek, some of it sticking in place. She wiped at your cheek with her other hand, kissing the coldness away.

Together, you walked back to the safety of the community, hand in hand- mostly to keep warm, of course.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

"good things come to those who wait" except my beta readers have been waiting three years for me to finish this draft, and honestly, they deserve reparations for their patience.

[xoxo-sarah]

The Walking Dead; Indifference

"Those douchebags in the vines took themselves out, holding hands. Kumbaya style." - Daryl Dixon "They wanted to go out together same as they lived. That make them douchebags?" - Bob Stookey "It does it they could have gotten out." - Daryl Dixon "Everybody makes it, till they don't. People nowadays are dominoes. What they did maybe it's about not having to watch them fall." - Bob Stookey

Carylering On<333333333333333

[xoxo-sarah]

That last look says “I will take you apart piece by piece if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”  Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon at Terminus - The Walking Dead S4 E16 - A gifs by @daryl-dixon-daydreams | follow for daily drabbles + more!

[xoxo-sarah]

Bone Gnawing Guilt

↝a/n: first post of 2025 and we're starting this year off with angst I guess.

↝pairing: season 7!Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: ANGST, Negan, the line up, season 7 episode 1 (I think), possible spoilers if you have watched season 7 yet, death (Abraham and Glenn), guilt, gore, crying, the usual twd stuff, not proofread, self hatred?, mention of Daryl's childhood

↝⎙ 1.2.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl could only watch.

There wasn't anything else he could do. He couldn't get himself to stand, to walk over to you. He watched as you crumbled, all of your emotions laid out for everyone to see. Face scrunched up, lip quivering, face getting more red by the second, as sobs rattled your body. Blood coated your right cheek; blood that wasn't yours. But, that of a friend you held so close to your heart.

Your own sobs layered with Maggie's, making everyone's heart clench with a devastating feeling.

Daryl had felt guilt before. It was beat into him at a very young age. Everything was always his fault. With his father being an alcoholic, there was always something that was wrong, that the abusive man could take out on Daryl, who was only a kid. After Daryl's mother died, that was a reoccurring instance that was brought up, followed by getting yelled at and kicked around.

Maybe the guilt started there. Either way, it sprouted in his developing brain and grew until it took over his body, the roots trapping him in his body that he hated so much.

Daryl fought against the men trying to drag him to a truck. No amount of fighting -to get to you- helped. He was shoved into the truck, still being able to hear the sobs. He threw his head back, time after time. Maybe if he hit hard enough, he wouldn't be able to hear your heartbreak anymore.

-

The roar of the Savior's trucks echoed as they got further away.

No one moved. They couldn't. Their bones felt like jelly, their hearts thumping in their ears. Maggie stood on wobbly legs.

The rest was a blur in your peripheral vision. Your eyes were planted on the dirt below, crimson weaving in between the mix of dirt and rocks.

Rocks dug into your legs, leaving an imprint

It didn't matter.

Everything was numb, you felt numb. Even after the bodies were picked up or dragged, you stayed, kneeled beside the puddle.

Rick stood beside the truck, watching as your body involuntarily swayed.

A walker stumbled out of the woods, snarling.

You didn't seem to notice.

Rick started toward you, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't have the energy to kill the walker, or have to carry another dead body to bury.

Your body was dead weight under his hip You didn't notice the walker stumbling toward you. Tears lefts tracks down your face, mixing with the blood and dirt seeping into your pores.

You only looked up when Rick tugged one final time, dragging you to your feet. The look in your eyes was almost as awful as the sight had been with Negan just a little while ago.

Words lefts your mouth in a hopeless whisper, stating what Rick already knew. His eyes softened as your voice broke in the middle of your sentence.

“They took him.”

-

The sound of the wooden bat against skull was heard all round the group. The lineup watched in horror, even Negan's men were in shock. This whole thing was gross. Blood splattered with every harsh movement. Abraham laid lifeless. Muscles and nerves twitched.

It was too much.

Daryl stood before he knew what he was doing.

The moment played

over and over in Daryl's head as he sat on the cold floor, pushing himself into the corner of the small, dark room. The gruesome pictures were a reminder of what he had done. What finally broke you. You lost yourself when Glenn, a friend you had made in the beginning, died right beside you. It could have easily been you. God knows the 'what if's swam around your head after the tears had stopped. It wasn't fair.

You weren't with the group when they had hijacked the satellite outpost. You didn't have any part of it, yet you had the blood on your cheek, the trauma of seeing what happened with your own eyes.

If he hadn't stood up and punched Negan, Glenn would still be alive. He would be there for his and Maggie's baby. He would be there to tease you, like he had done since the quarry. The two of you acted like siblings. Now, he was dead. The reason Daryl had first noticed you, as you laughed and pushed Glenn away as he picked at you, was gone. Your laugh caught Daryl's attention, the laugh that Glenn caused. You wouldn't ever laugh like that again, not in this world.

The evidence was strewn across the concrete in front of him. The Polaroids of Glenn's remains were a cruel reminder.

You probably hated him. You probably blamed him. Daryl wouldn't be mad if you did.

You most likely hated him. It would be easier if you did.

If Daryl were to see you after all of this, if he were to escape, he was unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. It would be easier to live with the hate than with the guilt.

He would feel the guilt until the snake that was death struck its fangs into his heart, the venom seeping throughout his veins, throughout his body until it paralyzes him, causing his body to give up in the long run. The guilt would run through his veins as long as his blood stayed warm.

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead S5 E10 - Them 🥵😍 gifs by @daryl-dixon-daydreams | follow for daily Daryl content!

[xoxo-sarah]

Red

↝a/n: I didn't quite execute this though the way I wanted to :// reader is in the band with Eddie.

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: slight innuendo ?, not proofread , Steve is down bad ngl

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.28.24

"C'mon, man." Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie's pleading, honestly tired of hearing the man's voice. It was the same question every Friday. "It'll be fun, I promise, man." Eddie glanced at his band setting up in the garage, Steve's eyes following. You stood in front of the drums, your legs blocking the words "Corroded Coffin" made out of tape on the bass drum. You pushed your hair out of your face, placing some of the teased hair behind your pierced ear. "You need to loosen up, bud."

Steve eyes traced your figure, the way the white tank top hugged your curves. Bright red could be seen through the thin fabric. He hasn't talked to you much, but he couldn't help his eyes lingering every time you were around. He wanted to talk to you. He just never got around to it. Maybe he was intimidated. Eddie would say so.

Eddie could pinpoint when Steve had taken an interest in you. It was the second you met. Eddie had introduced you as "Red". The nickname settled on Steve's tongue, tingling like poprocks. You had been nicknamed that because you always has to have some sort of red on. If the outfit is all black, there's a red bracelet or earrings. You had a pair of red converse that you wore all of the time. Steve took notice of how warn out they were getting, feeling the urge to buy a new pair for you.

Eddie patted Steve shoulder, getting his attention back.

Steve reluctantly agreed. He tried to get Robin to go with him, so he wouldn't have to suffer alone. But she always found an excuse. He silently cursed her under his breath as bodies pressed against his in the small bar. He tried to make it to the backstage, looking for Eddie, the person who got him into this mess. Just as he got to the stage, the lights went dark. many of the drunk people continued to talk amongst themselves as the band came on stage.

Steve's mouth fell agape at your stage presence. Eddie watched as Steve watched you walk around the stage, captivating everyone's attention just by your voice.

Steve couldn't help but watch your every move. The rest of the band were tuned out from his mind; you and only you clouding his mind.

You went from banging your head back and forth with the music, to standing walking around the stage, eyes with a hazed look.

You eventually got so into the song that your hand roams your body, pulling up the black tank top, showing everyone the red, lacy bra. Steve swears he felt his breath hitch. He could practically feel the fabric against his fingertips.

As the song reached its climax, Steve felt his heart race in sync with the pounding drums. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by your energy and confidence. The way you commanded the stage was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Days after, Steve makes his way to the house where the band practices, standing around awkwardly. The guys look at him, amused. "Here to see Red?" Eddie chuckled, yanking the guitar pick out from his amused lips. Steve ignored the looks from the group around him. He wasn't here to be judged, he simply wanted to see you- he needed to see you.

"Where is she?"

Eddie nodded towards the door that connected from the garage to the house. As if on cue, you opened the door, stepping out in an all black outfit. It was more comfortable than what you wore at the show, not as snug on your figure. Your face was bare of the dramatic make-up from a few nights ago. Steve couldn't tell which look he liked more.

He couldn't help the way his mind went to what exactly you wore that was red. Was it the same bra? You didn't seem to have anything else that was visible. Your earrings are small, little silver moon crescents, no necklace decorating your neck.

"Harrington." You acknowledged, before handing out the cans of soda.

"Red," the nickname fell from his lips like he had been the one to make it up. It felt natural spilling from his mouth. "Can I, uh, can I talk to you?"

You looked up, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on you, anticipating your next move. "Sure." You threw the last can of soda through the air, having Eddie curse you as he caught it.

Steve felt a rush of excitement as you agreed to talk. The way you tossed that can to Eddie was so effortlessly cool, and he couldn't help but admire you even more.

You walked further down the pavement, leading away from the open garage. Steve stuck his hands in his front pockets, mind whirling.

"I saw you at the show the other night." Metal and Rock music wasn't something Steve usually listened to, but that might very well change.

Steve quickly nodded, hoping his face wasn't as red as your bra had been. "Yeah, Eddie forced me to go. I can't hate him for it, I had fun."

You smiled, biting your bottom lip lightly, "That's good. You should come to the next one."

"I'll think about it." God, of course he'll be there. Will he be paying attention to the words and music? No. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

You raised your brows, encouraging him to continue.

"Uh," suddenly, the concrete under his shoes was interesting. "I was wondering if you're free this Friday."

Your mouth opened, eyes searching his shy ones. "We actually have a show."

"Oh, yeah. Okay," He nodded, trying to play it off.

"But," you stepped forward, "I'm free after the show. Maybe you should come watch and we can go somewhere after."

Steve's face lit up, his heart racing as he processed your words. Relief washed over him, mingling with a surge of excitement. He couldn't believe his luck. "Yeah, I'd like that," he managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady. He admired how your face looked with no crazy eyeshadow and lipstick to distract from the color of your eyes. The natural pink of your lips captivated him. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.

You smiled, standing on your toes to bring your face closer to his. Your lips plants a quick peck on his crimson cheek.

As he walked away, his mind was a blur of thoughts about Friday. The anticipation of spending more time with you made his heart feel light, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. The concrete under his feet didn't seem so interesting anymore; all he could think about was you and the possibilities of what might happen after the show. God, he hoped you wore that red, lacy bra again.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Okay here is another idea because I love spamming you with them! It’s for our Stevie boy! Okay so basically neither Steve or the reader have had good role models for relationships. So because of this they kinda have a bad relationship, but know this so they sit down and talk and make a promise not to yell or storm out. So they fight and the reader is like whatever and leaves but Steve yells. It’s just their way of showing they care(the reader doesn’t like to fight so they leave to cool off and Steve needs to talk it out). Again this one is really just for me because I’ve never had a good relationship and my one relationship I had I dipped when things got semi hard 🤦🏼‍♀️ but like she tries that after they had their talk and Stevie won’t let her blah blah happy ending please because I need happy endings

Promises Between Us

(The headers have nothing to do with the fic but I didn't know what else to put)

↝a/n: quick fic. thank you for requesting! Enjoy 🩷 ily 💋

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: relationship problems, bad family issues, parent issues/ arguing, Steve's parents mentioned, crying, not proofread & rushed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.23.24

Steve was terrible at relationships.

He had never been good at them and would let you know if you were to ask him.

Growing up, he didn't have the best examples to follow. His parents were always away, and when they were home, they barely spoke to each other. Out in public, they had the "white picket fence and happy couple" fecade perfected. Honestly, it irritated how fake his parents were. They were the perfect couple to anyone who looked their way.

You, on the other hand, had your own set of issues. Your parents fought constantly, and you learned early on that sometimes it was better to just walk away. All the grief you felt as a child, stuck with you through your children, teenage years, and the start of your adulthood. It probably always will.

When Steve and the you started dating, you both knew it wouldn't be easy. You both cared deeply for each other, and tried to make it work with everything in your being.

But the past made it hard to navigate the complexities of a relationship, some days. You had your fair share of arguments, and more often than not, they ended with you storming out and Steve yelling after you. You always came back, and Steve always apologized. He made sure to make it up to you. You spent more time together, talking, asking each other about the other's day. Anything to erase what was said in the heat of the moment.

Today was one of those days where it was all too much. Steve came home from work, pissed. You simply woke up in a mood. Those two didn't mix well together. After one small comment, it all unravelled.

"You're not listening!" The words echoed through the house, yet seemingly not making their way to Steve, who stood heaving in fury.

"I don't want to deal with this right now- i shouldn't have to!" Steve scrubbed his jaw, feeling it clench.

You two stood across from each other, tired, yet too stubborn to see it from the other perspective.

Closing your eyes, you sighed, "Whatever, Steve." And walked to the bedroom, already getting ready for bed at 5 P.M. Steve stayed in the living room, grabbing something to drink. You both needed to cool off, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

Steve tiptoed his way to the bedroom, with night having already fallen. He stood in the door way, watching as you read a book while leaning against the bedframe. His chest fell.

"I'm sorry."

When you looked up, Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. Around your eyes was red, along with under your nose. The tissue box on the bedside table didn't help extinguish his assumption. You had been crying.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought it home and taken it out on you." He moved forward, toward you. Putting the book down, you sniffled, before nodding.

"Yeah, and I should've been more understanding." You watched as he sat beside you on the bed, before he grabbed your hand.

" I don't like arguing."

So, you both made the promise: no more yelling, no more storming out. You would talk things through, no matter how hard it got.

But promises are easier made than kept.

A few weeks later, you found themselves in the middle of another argument. This time, it was about something trivial, but it quickly escalated. You felt the familiar urge to leave, to cool off before things got worse. The living door invited you more and more as the argument escalated. Air, and quiet. That's all you wanted in the moment.

"Whatever, Steve," you said, turning towards the door.

"Wait," Steve's voice broke, desperate. His dark eyes were pleading, any hint of anger long gone. "We promised, remember?"

You stopped, hand on the doorknob. "I just need some space."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "We need to talk this out. I can't lose you."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I don't want to fight." The air that had become thick from the tension, released. Vulnerability aired out the living room, nipping at your fingertips like the cold weather in December.

"Neither do I," he said softly, taking your hand. "But leaving won't solve anything. Please, stay."

Looking into his eyes, you saw the sincerity there. Slowly, you nodded. "Okay."

You sat back down, and for the first time, you both really talked. You shared your fears, your insecurities, and your hopes for the future. It wasn't easy, but it was a start.

By the end of the night, you were both exhausted, but there was a new understanding between you two. You knew it wouldn't be perfect, but you were willing to try.

Steve pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Me neither," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Hello my love I have a request for a reader who is like best friends Stevie and you know he’s a caretaker of the group, so she kind of is too anyways she is the caretaker always the mom of the group and everything but he can pick up on some signs that maybe she doesn’t wanna always take care of everybody else like maybe she wants to be taken care of, and he slowly starts doing things for her. But maybe she is reluctant to accept the help so she kinda gets snippy at him queue a frustrated, love confession from Stevie to her. Ends happy because my life is in shambles and I need a happy ending.

Distant

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x female!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.20.24

Steve had always been the caretaker of the group. Whether it was driving the kids around or making sure everyone was safe, he was the go-to guy. But there was someone else who shared this role with him—his best friend, you. You were the “mom” of the group, always looking out for everyone and making sure things were in order.

You had become close to the kids shortly after Steve had. Dustin liked you, liked how Steve acted when you were around. It was also fun for Dustin to pick at Steve when you weren't around; talking about how Steve would blush when you looked at him. You never seemed to notice, though.

It wasn't unusual for you and Steve to be attached at the hip. You pretty much thought as one. One followed after the other. So it was natural when you took the group of kids under your wing. You would do anything for them. That was evident when you had a stern talking-to with a group of kids that were messing with Dustin's group at school. You had spent countless nights making and bringing them food when they were busy playing DND. You always made sure they had a ride home. Or, if they needed to go somewhere, you were the first to call. It became a habit to pick Steve up on the way, if he wasn't already with you when you got the call.

It was fun, spending time with them. They were funny and nice, a contrast to other kids their age.

But, all the times playing “mom” could be tiring. It seemed like every time you got the call, you would drop everything. They needed you, why would you decline?

It was one specific night when you had finally had enough.

Dustin kicked Lucas' feet out of the way, walking toward the phone. He knew your number by heart. Honestly, it's a surprise the number hadn't worn off from how much he typed it in. The phone rang…and rang. Usually, you would've picked up by now. Dustin turned, looking at the clock. 2:37 pm. You were off work today. You typically answer. Plucking the phone back into the base, Dustin turned, eyebrows furrowed. “She didn't answer.”

“How are we supposed to get to the arcade?” Mike sat up straighter, kicking himself for breaking the chain on his bike. Nancy was at Jonathan's, and his parents were out with Holly.

“Call Steve.” Lucas looked at Dustin like that was the obvious answer.

Nodding, Dustin turned back to the phone.

“She didn't answer my call either.”

Steve sighed, turning down the familiar street. The other kids were squashed in the back of Steve's car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. The kid was quick to tell Steve about his worries. Sure, you just didn't answer the house phone. But that wasn't like you. If you had missed it, you always called back. Or called from Steve's house phone.

“Maybe she isn't home.” Mike watched the trees out the window. Truthfully, he just wanted to go to the arcade. He had a high score to beat. Yours, specifically.

Pulling into your driveway, Steve unbuckled, before getting out. Your car was parked in front of his. “I'll ask if she wants to come with.”

Steve practically skipped to the door, knocking and waiting. It took a few moments before you opened the door. “Hey,” Steve took in your appearance. You looked tired, sleep clumped at the corners of your eyes, eye bags apparent. “Uh, the kids were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the arcade.” He used his thumb to point behind him, where the kids were watching.

“Um,” You opened your mouth, looking at the kids, before furrowing your brows. “You know, I actually have to catch up on some sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Dustin was worried about you. You didn't answer his calls or mine.”

“Yeah,” I have a life outside of you and the kids. I don't have to constantly drop everything to play pretend and do their parents job. “I was asleep.” You weren't going to tell him about how you listened as the phone rang, not daring to even get up from the couch.

“alright, just wanted to check up on you.” Steve turned, not wanting to leave, but feeling like you wanted him to.

You smiled, “thanks, and sorry. Enjoy dealing with those hooligans all by yourself.”

Steve laughed, before you closed the door.

~

Days passed, and it was always the same answer. You had other stuff to do. Until Steve came to visit you at work. He saw you through the window, laughing with a coworker. You looked like you. He missed it.

“I'm having a little get-together at my house tonight. You should come. Food, board games, movies. Everything you love.” Steve smiled, begging you with his eyes.

For some reason, you couldn't say no this time around.

As you all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night, he noticed something different about you. You seemed a bit more tired, your smile a little less bright. You were still taking care of everyone, getting everyone snacks, making sure everyone liked the movie before it was put in, but Steve could see the weariness in your eyes.

You didn't pay attention to the movie, mind elsewhere.

“What's going on?” Steve had asked, after everyone was asleep, and you helped clean up.

“What do you mean?”

You didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on grabbing the candy wrappers and throwing them away.

“You're distant. You don't answer the phone anymore. Did I do something? Did one of them do something?”

“No.” You sighed, “No one did anything. I just…I'm tired. I don't want to be the caretaker all the time.”

Steve slowly nodded, letting you know he was actually listening.

“I mean, I've had to drop so many things just to take them somewhere or pick them up. I have my own life, you know. I have a job so I can pay bills. If I wanted to be a mom, I would have kids myself.” You hated how that made you sound. You felt selfish for wanting time for yourself, but it's just how it is. They're not your kids, you're not their mom. You're a young adult that has to live life without the constant burden of children.

“You don't have to. I'll talk to them-”

“No. Don't do that. It's fine.”

“It's obviously not fine. You're having to ignore us just to get some free time. I'll talk to them.”

You dropped the trash bag, looking up at him. “I said no. It's not that big of a deal.” You huffed, moving around the living room toward the door.

Steve watched as you grabbed your stuff and left.

He knew first hand how it was to be the caretaker of the group. He found it easier to do with you by his side. But obviously, it wasn't like that for you.

Maybe you wanted someone to take care of you for a change.

Steve started doing little things for you. He'd stop by your house to bring you snacks without you asking. He brought you flowers once, claiming it was from him and the kids, for burdening you. Steve tried to do stuff for you, but you were reluctant to accept his help. You'd always been the one to take care of others, and it was challenging to let someone else do that for you. Sometimes, you'd even get snippy with him, telling him you could handle it yourself.

~

You finally came around again- not as much as before, but you didn't decline their calls anymore.

One night, after a particularly long day, Steve found you in his kitchen, cleaning up after everyone else had left. He walked over and took the dish from your hand.

“Steve, I can do it,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Why won't you let me help you?” he asked, his tone equally frustrated.

“Because I don't need your help!” you snapped back, but your voice cracked, betraying your true feelings.

Steve put the dish down and turned to you, his eyes filled with concern. “You don't always have to be the strong one, you know. It's okay to let someone else take care of you for once.”

You looked at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if I don't know how to let go?”

Steve stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “Then let me show you,” he whispered. “Because I love you, and I want to be there for you, just like you've always been there for everyone else.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You… you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve said, his voice firm and sincere. “I love you, and I want to take care of you. So please, let me.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to lean into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of relief. “Okay.”

Steve smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We'll figure it out together,” he said. “One step at a time.”

As the days passed, Steve made it his mission to show you that it was okay to let someone else be there for you. He'd surprise you with your favorite coffee in the morning, leave little notes of encouragement on your bedside table before he leaves at night, and always be there with a listening ear when you needed to vent. Slowly, but surely, you began to let your guard down and accept his help.

~

One Saturday afternoon, Steve took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. You sat together on a blanket, watching the ducks swim by.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“For what?” Steve asked, looking at you with a gentle smile.

“For everything,” you replied. “For being there for me, for showing me that it's okay to lean on someone else.”

Steve reached out and took your hand in his. “You don't have to thank me,” he said. “I care about you, and I want to be there for you. Always.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that you hadn't felt in a long time. “I love you, Steve,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew that you had finally found someone who would always be there for you, no matter what. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Can I make a request with Stevie. But basically she has extreme trust issues, but is good at hiding it or making jokes about it. But basically they are friends and when they make plans something comes up and he can’t make it, but she over thinks it and just assumes he doesn’t want to hang out with her so she tells him, “its okay if you don’t want to hang out I get it” or she always get surprised when he actually comes over even tho he said he was going to and stuff like that. Just constantly not believing anything he says and it’s nothing about him more about her trying to protect her self from getting hurt.because when you expect nothing you don’t get as disappointed. Anyways it ends happy maybe he gets frustrated with her and boom frustrated love confession (as you can see I love those)

Expect Nothing & Never Get Hurt

↝a/n: this might be a little short and rushed, but I wanted to get something out before I become too swamped with exams and such. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for requesting! I love your requests. 🩷🩷🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: trust issues, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.7.24

Steve had always been a good friend to you, but you couldn't help the nagging feeling that he would eventually let you down. It only became worse when he asked you out. It ate at you. It wasn't his fault; it was just how you were wired. You had learned to mask your trust issues with humor, making jokes about your skepticism, but deep down, it was always there. Steve saw it.

"Hey, Steve, we still on for tonight?" You asked, trying to sound casual in the phone. You twirled the cord between your fingers, waiting for an answer.

"Of course. I'll pick you up at eight," he replied, you could hear his charming smile in his voice. It made a smile come to your own face. "See you later, gorgeous."

Eight o'clock came, and Steve was nowhere to be found, you felt the familiar sting of disappointment.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that something important must have come up. Before your thoughts could wonder even more, the house phone rang. You quickly made your way to it, your heart sinking. "Hey," Steve's said on the other end. You could hear the guilt in his voice.

Steve trailed off, seemingly getting distracted with whatever was on the other side of the phone. He brought the phone back to his ear, eyes still trained on the group of kids in Family Video, who had came in right before close, with the amount of energy Steve could only wish to have at his age.

"Sorry, something came up. Can we reschedule?"

"It's okay if you don't want to hang out. I get it," you replied after a moment of silence. Silence wasn't the best for a wondering mind. But you tried to sound nonchalant.

Steve was quick to respond, "No, it's not like that. I really want to hang out. Just had something unexpected." He glanced up, watching Robin scold the group of kids for knocking over a pile of movie tapes. The kids thought the whole thing was funny. It wasn't, not really. Steve and Robin only wanted to close up and go home. They had the next day off. Robin planned on sleeping the whole day and Steve planned on spending his free time with you. But the night couldn't end fast enough. The plans Steve had originally had would fall through with how late it was getting.

You sighed, mind racing with doubts. You cleared your throat, shoulders sagging, "Yeah, no. I get it. I'll see you...later, I guess. Bye."

Steve didn't have the time to respond before you hang up. He put the phone down, grumbling as he walked over to the group of hooligans. Robin threw her hands up, giving up with dealing with the kids that had parents that obviously did not discipline their children.

The next day rolled around and you were surprised when you opened the door to find Steve had been the one to wake you up by knocking. He held a bouquet of flowers, a shy smile on his face.

"You actually came," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

He glanced between the flowers and you, feeling shame for having to cancel, "I feel bad for last night. I know these won't erase last night, but I just thought it could be the start of fixing it. I really wanted to go on that date."

Before you could fix your face, an expression of disbelief flashed across it. Steve caught it. He always did. Every time he would say something sweet or compliment you, you always pulled that face. You never believed him. He wanted you to.

Steve frowned, clearly frustrated. "Why do you always do that? Why do you always assume I don't mean what I say? If I didn't, I wouldn't say it."

You looked down, feeling exposed. "It's not about you. It's just... easier to expect nothing. That way, I don't get disappointed."

Steve took a deep breath, his frustration evident. You had told him about all of the time before, about why you don't trust easily. "I get that you've been hurt before, but I'm not going anywhere. I care about you, and it hurts me that you don't believe that."

You looked up at him, lips slightly quivering with emotion, "I'm sorry, Steve. It's just hard for me to trust."

He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know, but I need you to trust me. I need you to believe that I want to be here with you."

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Okay, I'll try."

Steve smiled, pulling you into a hug. "That's all I ask."

It would take some time, but Steve was willing to wait for as long as you would need.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Wrap me in plastic by chromance Marcus Layton old money or rich Steve. So like he asks her out on a date. He gets there early and she lets him chill in her room while she finishes getting ready. And then during their date they talk about what they want for their future. Like a big house and dogs and all that. And after their dinner they walk around downtown and he kinda spoils her with like shoes and such. Idk the song just calls out to old money Stevie

A Gentleman and a Two Story House

↝a/n: this was really fun to write. Thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷🩷🩷

↝pairing: old money!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: mid 20's Steve and reader, not proofread, playful banter, talk of the future, reader wears a dress and heels

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.1.24

The engine of Steve's car died down. He looked up at the house, taking in the exterior of it. His hands were sweaty. He wouldn't tell you, but he was nervous about this. He had been for days. He'd cover it up with the confidence facade.

Wiping his hands on his slacks, he opened his car door, stepping out. He swallowed hard as he came to the door. Shaking the nerves away, he finally knocked. He waited, hearing your sweet voice through the thick wood, “One second!”

The door finally opened; Steve looked up. He couldn't help his smile. You weren't ready yet. Your hair was half up half down, no makeup on, and a surprised look on your face. You clutched at your chest, where a fancy necklace usually resides. Your natural lips moved, but no words came out. You were acting surprised at seeing him, but he was only 5-8 minutes early.

“Hi, beautiful.”

He loves when you got flustered.

“Hey– I lost track of time. I'm sorry–you can come in. I'm so sorry, oh my god. I'll just get ready real quick.”

He shrugged you off, “It's not a problem. Take your time.”

“Make yourself at home!” He watched you hurry up the stairs, skipping every other step.

Closing the door, he looked around. The house was you. It smelt like you, the interior design screaming you. After looking around, admiring your decor, he made his way up the steps, following the sound of your hurried movements.

“I meant it; take your time. We can cancel the reservation and go later.” Steve leaned against the door frame, watching you move swiftly.

You stopped your movements, one eyelash coated in mascara while the other was naked. “But you planned this. I should've been paying attention-”

“It's fine, really. I'd like to spend some time with you before we go, anyway. If that's okay with you.”

Finishing the other eyelash, you frowned up at him. Steve pushed off the wall, walking over to you. If he thought your living room reflected you, your room was even more so.

He sat on the bed, watching you through the vanity mirror. “You're beautiful, you know.”

“And you're a suck up. What, trying to get in my bed already?”

Steve had to cover his grin, feeling the duvet under his fingertips. Your bed was soft. He imagined what sleeping on it must be like.

“Looks like I've already succeeded.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your desk chair toward the bed, watching his fingers trace the softness of your blanket.

“What are we supposed to do about dinner?” He could see the guilt in your eyes. It really wasn't that big of a deal.

“I'll figure it out.”

You two sat in your room, exchanging playful banter and anything to dissolve the tension of a new relationship. It was easy between you two.

Steve looked up when he heard the bathroom door opening, “Can you zip me?” He felt his breath hitch. You were stunning. A strapless dress flowed down your body, flowing outward a little at the skirt. You held the front up with both of your hands, eyes not quite meeting his as he stood, walking over. You turned, providing him with access to the zipper you were able to only get halfway up your back. He made a show of zipping it, fingers lingering. He could see the flush on the back of your ears.

He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, “Ready?”

You mindlessly nodded, too drunk off his touch. It wasn't even crazy, yet he had you wrapped around his finger. Fixing your hair one final time, you gathered yourself, walking toward your closet. Grabbing a pair of shoes, you made your way out of the house.

Steve was a gentleman; opening your car door, helping you get in, helping you get out, he held your hand the whole way to the restaurant, and quickly grabbed it again going into the said restaurant.

He had manners, which was rare to find.

He was interested in what you had to say. He had a sense of humor. God, what wasn't perfect about him?

“What about you?” Steve brought his glass to his lips, eyebrows raised. The lights of the fancy restaurant illuminated his facial features. He looked handsome. “What does the future hold for you?”

You laid your hands on the table in front of you, biting your bottom lip in thought. “I don't really know. As a kid, I had the same future plans as any little girl. I guess most of that stayed with me. The two story house with a big yard for children to play and a white picket fence. A dog that would run around with the kids and play fetch. But life might have different plans.”

He placed his glass down, nodding. Life was full of curveballs. He'd know first hand, with his parents, and how he had to grow up.

“How many kids do you want?”

He smiled when you didn't hesitate to answer. “Two. Preferably close in age so they can grow up close and have stuff in common.”

“So you have thought about this since you were little?”

“Of course. Didn't you?”

Steve shook his head, “Not really. My parents wanted me to think about College and what I wanted to do for work, not how I wanted my house to look or how many dogs I wanted.”

“You have time to think about it now.” You said softly, bringing your hands up to prob your head on as you looked at him.

“True,” He grinned, copying you and looking at you with as much adoration as you were looking at him with. “I'd like a two story house too. A big yard seemed nice. We'll just have to see what the future holds.”

Breaking eye contact, you tried not to freak out over how he said “we”. As in, you and him. Grabbing your glass of wine, you let it coat your throat, ignoring his eyes on you as you chugged what was left.

As you got ready to leave, Steve paid and walked out with your hand in his. He squeezed it before he left go to open your door.

It wasn't that late after dinner. The sun was just now setting over the horizon. “What now?”

“What do you want to do?”

“You're the one who asked me out if I remember correctly. I think that means you're the one who has to pick.”

He started the buckling his seatbelt. “Okay, fine. How about…we go shopping? A new store just opened up downtown. I think you'll like it.”

You looked over at him, like really looked. His hands flexed against the steering wheel as he reversed in the parking spot. He had tan slacks on, a slick dark brown leather belt, a dress shirt, with a tan sweater on top. His cuffs were folded, showing off the curves and softness of his hands and wrists. His wristwatch dazzled in the lights of the city. His hair was styled nicely, obviously held up by strong hairspray.

Feeling your eyes on him, Steve brought his hand over the center console, stretching it across your thigh. Getting a butterfly effect in your stomach, you laid a hand over him, looking out the window as he drove.

The drive was quiet, but it was nice.

Steve parked, just basking in the moment. He's never felt this content on a date before. You looked at all the people walking on the sidewalk with bags in their hands. This was on the “bougie” side of town, and the people walking around showed it with how they carried themselves. Bright lights lit up the town, iridescent lights shining from storefronts. Checking his watch, he unbuckled, before running around to your side and opening your door.

Thanking him with a smile, you let him take your hand, running across the street to get to the new store.

Once inside, you gawked at everything it had to offer. From expensive jackets and shirts to purses and jewelry. They were pretty, but become a lot less when you turned the price tag around. Steve noticed, going behind you to look at the tag for himself. He noticed when you nearly had heart eyes looking at a pair of high heels. They were pretty, he'd give it to you. Maybe it was the red bottoms that caught your eye, or the color that coated the rest of the shoe. Coincidentally, it matched your dress, and the red of the bottom matched your nail polish. It just matched. A lot better than the shoes you had on. He watched as you put off looking at the price tag, almost scared of what it would be.

“Get them.”

You looked up, brought out of your trance.

“Are you crazy?” You looked between him and the shoes. “These are worth more than me.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “That's impossible, seeing as you're priceless.”

Scrunching up your nose at his cringy response, you just stared at him. "I was just looking at them."

“I'll buy them for you.”

You instantly shook your head, putting the shoes back. “No. No, I can't let you do that. You already bought dinner.”

He stepped forward, his arm grabbing the shoes from behind you. “I insist. Plus, I'm the one who asked you on the date. It's practically law that I pay for everything. I am a gentleman, after all.”

You grabbed at the shoe, but he moved away. “Steve, come on. This is ridiculous. I'd rarely ever wear them anyway.”

“You can wear them on our next date.”

You couldn't help the smile spreading on your face, “Are you asking me out on another date?”

He shrugged with a smirk on his face, and turned to walk toward the checkout.

Walking behind him, you glanced into the glass counter, where jewelry laid, sparking in the lights. All different shapes, gems, and pieces.

Steve turned back to you, feeling your body behind him. Even if you only looked at the glass counter for a split second, his eyes scanned your jewelry, seeing if you wore gold or silver.

Let's just say you came out of the store with not only a pair of high heels, but also a new bracelet. You could tell Steve he didn't have to do that for the rest of your lives, but Steve would insist. Soon, you'd realize gift giving was his love language.

The cup of hot chocolate warmed your hands in the chilly night air. Steve had stopped by a diner that he went to regularly and had a nice elderly woman make it.

Steve walked beside you on the sidewalk that led to your house, your bags in his hand. He walked you to your door, hand moving to your back when you turned toward him.

“I had fun tonight. Thank you.”

Steve playfully scoffed, handing you the bags. “I had fun too. Maybe next time you can decide what we do.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll make sure to bring my wallet so I can buy you some heels as well.”

“Oh, yeah. Black's my color, by the way.”

“Noted. Although, I think it would be cute if we matched.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling all night.

Before you knew it, Steve was leaning in, his lips softly meeting yours. He tasted the hot chocolate on your lips, but he wasn't complaining.

Pulling back for air, you looked across his face. The chilly air nipped at his nose and cheeks, a light pink hue taking over. It only darkened after you had kissed.

Leaning up, you pecked his lips again, body staying close. “Thanks for everything.”

He didn't reply, only closing the gap once again.

Before anything got too heated, you lightly patted his chest, pulling away with a giddy smile. “It's getting late.”

He nodded, acknowledging what you said but still looking at your kiss-swollen lips.

“Steve,” you whined, licking your lips out of habit.

“Yeah, yeah.” He looked into your eyes, smiling at you. “How does Friday sound?”

“I think I'm free, but I'll check my calendar.”

“Alright,” He let go of you, moving his hand away from your back, watching as you stepped closer to your door. “ Can't wait.”

You watched as he walked backwards down the walkway. “ Goodnight, Steve.”

“ Goodnight. I'm just going to go look into two story houses. I'll get back to you.”

You laughed, looking at him over your shoulder as you unlocked the door. “ Yeah, right.”

He got in his car, waiting for you to get in your house before he left, not being able to contain the giddy feeling. Friday couldn't come fast enough.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Visiting Home for the Holidays

↝a/n: for my people who don't celebrate Thanksgiving, you can interpret this as Steve meeting your parents for the first time. 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

↝warning: Thanksgiving? Not proof read, rushed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 11.27.24

Steve Harrington masterlist | main masterlist

Steve stood at the edge of the driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. He adjusted his brown sweater for what felt like the hundredth time. You had told him it looked good on him.

He glanced nervously at the front door. The memory of his disastrous first meeting with Nancy's parents played on a loop in his mind. He could still hear the awkward silences, feel the judgmental stares, and remember the feeling of not being good enough. He remembered passing by the house and feeling ashamed when he caught the eye of Mr. Wheeler as he mowed the lawn. Truthfully, Mr. Wheeler hadn't thought of Steve since that night. That didn't change the fact that it haunted Steve. The thought of repeating that experience made his palms sweat and his stomach churn.

"Steve, it's going to be okay," you said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "They're going to love you."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just... I don't want to mess this up." Last time, it was a disaster. He didn't dare say the last sentence. This is different. It's a different time with different people. He's changed. He's not King Steve. You're not her.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "You're amazing, and they're going to see that."

Steve nodded, taking comfort in your words. "Okay, let's do this." With one last deep breath, he followed you up the walkway, feeling a little more confident with each step.

Peering eyes watched through the window, in-between the curtains. Excited eyes softened and protective eyes glared, slightly wavering as you slightly smiled. You were happy.

As you knocked on the door, he glanced at you, and you gave him a reassuring smile. The door opened, and your parents greeted you both warmly. Steve felt the tension in his shoulders start to ease as he saw the welcoming expressions on their faces.

Dinner was a cozy affair, filled with laughter and stories. Steve found himself relaxing more and more as the evening went on. Your parents were kind and engaging, nothing like the cold reception he had feared. Every now and then, he'd catch your eye, and your encouraging smile would give him the boost he needed to keep going.

"Steve," your dad started, a hint of question as he said the name, not sure if that was right. He gave time for correction, but it never came so he continued, "Y/n tells us you work at a video store. How's that treating you?"

Steve started to feel that familiar anxiety creeping back. Then he felt your hand gently touch his under the table, grounding him.

He took a deep breath and began to talk, feeling more confident with each word. "It's fun; decent pay." He started, before going on about working with friends and his boss.

Your parents listened intently, nodding and smiling, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

By the end of the night, Steve was laughing and chatting comfortably with your parents, the initial nerves long forgotten. He realized that with you by his side, he could face anything.

As you said your goodbyes, your mother stopped you, bringing you into a hug. "He's a keeper," she whispered and grinned, pinching your cheek and your became embarrassed.

Your dad brought you closer to him, after shaking Steve's hand firmly. "Be careful on the roads. Holiday traffic is the worst."

Steve grabbed your hand and began walking back to the car, Steve turned to you, gratitude and affection shining in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I couldn't have done this without you."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I knew you could do it. And now you know it too."

Steve smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the chill of the night air. He knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, with you by his side, he could handle them all.

After Steve opened your door, helping you get in without hitting your head, you turned back to the house as Steve rounded the car. Your parents stood on the edge of the porch, expressions soft. They waved, smiled gracing their face. Their little girl was with someone who seemed nice. He was respectful; he helped clean up and respected you and them. He listened when you talked, eyes scanning your face. A few times, they caught him smiling as he admired you. He even fixed a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

They were willing to welcome him back anytime, as long as he made you happy.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

relief versus grief

twd 05x10 "them"

[xoxo-sarah]

Thank you, love.🩷🩷🩷

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Real

☹️☹️☹️

(Not my video! Found on tiktok)