#WINKIN AT ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noctumbra · 2 years

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞/𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲

summary ─ eavesdropping can cause damage, apparently.

pairing ─ jake “hangman” seresin x reader

warnings ─ kissing, jake is an asshole lol, teasing, pet names, hickeys

a/n ─ this is my first time writing jake seresin, pls be kind thank u

You knew he was staring. You could feel his sharp, green eyes on you, watching that part of your neck like a hawk. You felt like you should be uncomfortable, but you weren’t. You could imagine what he must have been thinking about the hickey on your neck, and you knew that he wasn’t right about whatever he was thinking.

You didn’t care, though. It served his cocky ass right.

“So, you ever gonna tell him to piss off at any time or…?” Coyote murmured, leaning on the bar counter where you have been running your cleaning wipes all over for the past twenty minutes. You shrugged. Balling up the wipe, you threw it in the trash.

“Nope,” you told him. Coyote chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t care, honestly,” you added and moved onto the people who were waiting for to order. As you prepared their drinks, you caught his eyes. You nodded at him once, smiled at the second and rolled your eyes at the third. After the third time, you started to ignore him for real, knowing that it was going to make him cave and come around to talk to you.

“Glowin’ and proud, huh?”

You grinned at the glass you were filling with beer when you heard Jake’s voice behind you. Finishing up the filling, you put a cool, no-expression face on and turned around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. Jake let out a chuckle, but it sounded fake and forced. You tried to hide your grin. You placed the glass in front of the customer.

“Of course, you do, c’mon,” he mumbled. His toothpick was back in its old place, Jake’s tongue twirling it around whenever he got worked up, angry or feeling extra cocky. “That thin’ is winkin’ at me from miles away.”

You faux-frowned. “What thing?” You asked him because if he could be an asshole, then so could you. Jake took a deep breath.

“That hickey,” he ground his teeth, chin pointing at where your hickey was situated. “Someone outside the bar can easily see it.” You moved your fingertips to where he was looking at on your neck.

“Why do you care?” You asked. You wiped the excessive water on the counter and some alcohol that got spilt as you sneaked glances. “I got myself a good time last night, so what?” Jake’s eyes narrowed. His beautiful green eyes darkened just a little bit, and you tried your best not to scream ‘ha!’ to his face.

Jake Seresin was a jealous.

Ha!

“I don’t,” he said. “Just─ Everyone can see it.” You raised a brow.

“So?” Jake huffed angrily at your response.

“Who was it? Coyote?”

“What? No!” You rolled your eyes. “If you wanna know that bad, his name is Max.” Jake frowned as he tried to remember if he knew any Max. So far, the name didn’t ring any bells. “You don’t know him.” Jake nodded.

“At least tell me he’s takin’ you out on a date or somethin’, sweetheart.” You sighed. His cocky self was back in a blink with a little sarcasm sprinkled on top.

“Go away, Seresin,” you said and turned your back on him to deal with customers from the other side of the counter. As you prepared the orders, you friend and co-worker Julie came to help you. Both of you mumbled a ‘hello’ to each other and went through the customer crowd much faster than you could have done all alone.

“Why is Hangman looking like he could actually hang someone?” She asked you, and you chuckled.

“I may have been fucking with him,” you told her. “He annoys me.” Julie looked at you with an expression that said ‘right’ in a most sarcastic way possible before rolling her eyes. “What?”

“You annoy him right back, and it kinda makes me wanna knock your heads together and yell at you to have some sex─” Her words cut off when her eyes land on the hickey on your neck. “What!” You hushed her.

“It’s not what you think, my God,” you grumbled. “I burnt myself with my curling iron last night.” Julie blinked and looked at the mark on your neck for a little longer. “I swear there is no one else. If there was, you would know.” Julie hummed.

“Yeah, I guess,” she murmured and placed the order on the counter. “Wait. Does he know that that mark is from a curling iron?” You grinned widely at her as you shook your head. Julie laughed. “Oh man, this is good.”

You hummed. “I told him it’s from a guy called Max,” you said. Julie laughed harder because she knew your curling iron’s brand was Max. “He doesn’t know that it’s a brand’s name, though.”

“Now I do,” Jake’s voice rang behind you. You froze momentarily and swore at yourself silently. “You were fuckin with me huh?” You turned around to face him and shrugged. Jake chuckled as he shook his head. His blonde hair was glinting prettily under the lights, green eyes were sparkling with mischief and lips stretched with a wide grin. He nodded a couple times before he walked right behind the counter.

“If you excuse her for a moment, Julie-sweetie, I’ll be bringing her back in a minute,” he told your friend and grabbed your arm. You tried to resist, to stop him, but he was much stronger than you were, so it was useless. You slowed him down, though.

“Jake,” you told him, a warning in your voice. “What are you doing?” He didn’t say anything. He flipped the bird to Coyote who was whistling at you both from his place by the pool table. You hit his arm to get his attention on you, but he didn’t budge. “Jake! What are you─” He suddenly stopped and grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder. You gasped. “Put me down!”

“No,” he said calmly and walked towards the doors where it led to a quieter place. You wiggled, scrambled and tried to get away, or to get him to put you down, but all of them useless.

When he finally put you down, it was on another pool table, but you were in the empty part of the bar. There was no one around, no place where someone might be walking in or watch you from somewhere.

You were alone. With Jake.

Shit.

“You lied,” he said. He was standing between your spread legs, face so close that you could feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours. His eyes were looking down at you. The colors in them were nowhere to be seen, the darkness swallowed them whole. “You lied to me about having a good time last night.”

You tilted your chin up but realized it was a mistake when your lips brushed against his. “W-what if I d-did?” You stuttered. Jake didn’t say anything at first, and he lifted a hand to cradle your face. You didn’t dare to close your eyes although his hand felt really nice on your face.

“Darlin’,” he whispered. He brushed his nose to yours, nuzzling softly. “You don’t need to lie if all you want is my attention on you.” You frowned and tried to pull back, but Jake didn’t let you. He rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes and leaned in a bit more. You felt his lips moving on yours as he talked. “Especially when I wanna give all’a my attention to you.”

You gasped at his words, but it was swallowed right up by his lips onto yours.

Jake’s lips were soft, and his kiss was bordering on demanding a little bit. Both of his hands were holding your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he kissed the living daylight out of you. His tongue licked your bottom lip, teeth nipped and lips sucked yours; you were hyperventilating by the time he pulled back for a breath, but never took his lips off of you. Instead, he made his way down to your neck, peppering kisses and nipping the skin lightly, you shivered in his arms. His hands on your face made you tilt your head to your side before his lips caught yours again.

This time, the kiss was straight up demanding, controlling and passionate. He was leaning into you, one hand on your nape, fingers digging into the hair there, as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You moaned when he did that. Your hands scrambled to hold onto him, and they found purchase on his waist. Your legs tightened around his hips, and you returned his kiss as passionate as he was.

It was way too easy to lose yourself in his kiss, not caring about the job you had to go back, or the incoming teasing from your friend and his… You forgot all about them. Jake and his kiss were what was important, nothing else.

You heard him moan into your mouth and felt all the hair on your body rise at that sexy sound. Pulling back with a gasp, you looked at him briefly before he ducked his head down to kiss your neck. His hand on your face moved to your jaw, it tilted your face to give him more space on your neck.

Jake bit down on the skin on the right side of your neck, he sucked and kissed thoroughly and didn’t let go. You gasped, moaned and shivered way before you realized what he was doing.

You pushed him away.

Jake was grinning, all too pleased with himself and amused. “Now you have a matching one on the other side of your neck. Call it Jake, will you? I’m sure him and Max will become friends in no time.” Winking at your shocked face, he gave you a salute and another grin, and then he walked out.

You jumped off the pool table and found something you could use as a mirror to check out the damage.

It was huge. Way bigger than the one you already had. You growled angrily. Walking out, you made your way to the bar and pushed the swinging doors open. Your eyes were quick to find him by the pool table, right next to Coyote and Fanboy.

“You motherfucker─”

Jake smirked at you. “Nice hickey, sweetheart,” he said to you, giving you a thumbs-up. Coyote, Fanboy and Rooster snorted into their hands while Phoenix and Bob rolled their eyes at his antics. You heard Julie gasp from the counter.

“Which octopus attacked you?” She shrieked.

“The one called Jake Seresin,” you seethed. Julie blinked, her face going from shocked to amused.

“I’ll pick you up at 8, a’right?” You heard him say. “Gotta teach these kiddos how to fly first.” You growled again and picked up an empty bottle and threw it at him. Coyote, Fanboy and Rooster laughed loudly as he ducked to save his head from getting smashed. Phoenix was giggling while Bob was smiling.

“Damn, hell of a throwin’ arm you have on you,” Jake said. “Almost got me.” You made a move to grab another bottle but Julie stopped you.

“He’s not worth it,” she murmured. Jake fixed his uniform.

“Tonight at 8, darlin’, don’t you forget it.” He winked at you again and walked out with the others on his tow. You looked at Julie. She was trying not to laugh but failing so hard.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she started cackling. “It’s just… Man, you have to wear a turtleneck in this weather to hide that shit.” You rolled your eyes.

It was all motherfucking Jake Seresin’s fault.

It took you three years to admit that you liked it.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman imagines #hangman smut #hangman fluff #hangman angst #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #bruise

1K notes · View notes

f10werfae · 1 year

Text

My Bunny Bun and her Tail

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry x Shy!Short!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n tries her new bunny butt plug that Henry got her for halloween, and she transforms into his true baby bunny bun (warning: ass play) (Drabble)

Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist / Disclaimer: 18+

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Baby bun I got somethin’ for ya” Henry grinned sickly, picking up the white fur-ball he got for his wife, her squeals being heard from the bedroom as she pranced into his lap. His hands already groping and grabbing at her ass as he showed her the gift. “W-what is it?” She said looking at it, a gasp being heard once she saw the butt plug coming out of it. A bunny tail butt plug. “S’a bunny tail for my babybun” Henry cooed, his finger already rubbing up her puckered backdoor.

“G-going in mine?” She said holding the plug up close, the end of it purple and glitter as it extended into the fluffy bunny tail, her initials already engraved onto the length of it; he had definitely been planning this. “Well it’s not goin’ in mine sugar pie” He chuckled fixing her onto his other lap as he took the fluffy plug into his hands, he could already feel her dampened pussy leaking onto his thighs.

“Will- Will it be sore? A-am I not too uh?”

“I mean course, i’ll prepare ya, spit on my thick finger and massage you a bit; ya like the sound of that? I know ya do” He cooed pinching her fluffy cheek gently, her small pout lifting into a shy smile as she turned all flustered, her hips wiggling in his lap like a happy bunny; always wanting to please her husband and make him happy, made her happy.

“mm g-go slow?” She whispered holding onto his hand, his other hand already pushing her sleep shirt to bunch around her hips, her lower half now totally exposed to her husband. “Ya know me honey, i’ll take care of ya, ain’t that what I promise ya at the altar?” Bending her over his lap, her sweet cheeks were now over his knee, almost as if he was about to spank her. Again. Softly rubbing the soft lotioned skin, he kisses them gently, hearing her whine and whimper; his shy little wife was always so darn needy.

“wow, ain’t she pretty, all puckered out n’ winkin’ at me” He chuckled seeing her ass clench around nothing, before lewdly spitting onto it, using his fingers to massage it open; going as gentle as possible as to not hurt his woman. His pointer finger pushing it slowly, his breath hitching once he felt how tight it was, imagining how her puckered would feel around his cock. “A-ah f-feels weird Hen” Y/n whimpered feeling shivers go up her body from the new sensation, her voice splitting as he pushed in his thick calloused middle finger.

“Doin’ so good for me baby, so so good, look how well ya takin’ my fingers” Henry cooed slowly plunging his fingers in and out of her, her moans and whimpers flooding his ears, not to mention the wetness which was now leaking from her pussy too. “A-are ya proud of me? I-I feel good” She sighed feeling his fingers rub the back of her pussy, gasping when he used her wetness to further lube up her backdoor, her lower half now a wet filthy mess. It was all because of her wild man of a husband.

“H-how many more?” She asked feeling him push in a third finger into her tight ass, his other hand massaging and rubbing her ass cheeks and the back of her thighs affectionately, his bite marks from the other night still present on her pillowy thighs; bites that she had begged him for. “This is the last one sugar, I promise, ya like my gift don’t ya?” He asked with a mockingly fake sad tone, his wife already picturing a pout on his face, “I l-love it, so f-fluffy n’ cute”

“Yeah just like my gorgeous wife, my bunbun” He groaned bending over to pick up the purple plug end of the bunny tail, his cock hardening at the sight of her hole, wet and stuffed with his fingers; all just because he wanted to stuff her with a bunny tail. Sure she had mentioned a few weeks ago she wanted a new halloween costume for them to match, she didn’t expect the bunny and the hunter.

“Ya ready bun?”

“mhm m’ready” She whined at the feeling of the loss of his fingers, now gasping at the cold sensation of the cold plug entering her ass, even though she was sure that her husbands fingers were thicker than this contraption. Henry had let her take a few second breaks as he eased the toy in, his voice erupting in a seductive chuckle as he squeezed and doted on the small fluffy tail.

“It’s in baby, ya wanna go have a look?” He asked helping her to stand up, her head nodding frantically as she ran into their bedroom; leavinf Henry chuckling as he watched her newly acquired white fluffy tail bounce along with her ass, now she really was his little bunbun. “I-I love it! I look like a b-bunny for halloween” She giggled twirling and looking at herself in the mirror, holding her shirt up to see the pompom looking tail peak out at the too of her ass.

“W-wait what are y-you for halloween?” She questioned realising he still hadn’t mentioned his costume; even though they weren’t going out anywhere and were guaranteed no trick-or-treat visitors, Henry had made the idea of their own halloween getaway at home with movies and snacks. Let’s not forget the sex too. “Am a hunter baby, lookin’ for pretty lil’ things like ya” He smirked bending down to nudge her nose with his and tug on her tail as she gasped, her hands immediately going down to protect her tail cutely, her face pulled into an angry frown.

“I-I don’t like that idea, I-I want ya to protect me, not hunt me! Can ya not be a hunter, that protects me instead?” She huffed thumping her foot as she poked his side, of course not getting any sort of reaction from him, his huge body towering over his. “Fine fine, I guess I can do that, for my bunny bun” He sighs reaching round to squeeze her tail again, this time causing her whole body to jump her, her voice whiney as she hit his chest.

“S-stop teasing my tail mister, you’ll unfluff it” She scolded running to the other side of their bed, her hands covering her ass, and she was serious about it too. “Can I not feel my bunbun’s tail? Am missin’ her already” He pouted unbuttoning his jeans to show his hardened cock peeping out the top of his boxers, her mouth water immediately, “I-I guess I can make an e-exception for you mister hunter”

———

PSA: I LOVE THIS DRABBLE😭🫶 The idea came to me in a dream 🛌

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist Tags (not accepting, please use library instead)

@pandaxnienke @helenaellie @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25

Hope you all enjoy this one!!

:)))

See you all soon xoxo

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x shy!reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill rpf #lumberjack!henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill one shot

842 notes · View notes

potofstewie · 1 year

Text

Cowboy

The Lowdown: Yer cowboy has been working hard at his Rodeo Competitions so It's only fair to reward him for a job well done.

The things to know: AFAB! Reader, oral (m. recieving), cowboy, creampie, praise praise and more praise, swears, petnames, breeding kink, reiner being the beefy cowboy he is, dom! Reiner, encouragement (take a shot every time you read the word "yer")

Pairing: Cowboy!Reiner x Black f!Reader

W/C: 2.4K

A/N: I had a cowboy Reiner fic that was originally supposed to be a surprise for @chrollohearttags cause to me she's the head honcho for all things Country!Reiner and I wanted to dedicate a lil sumn sumn for her enjoyment but the brainrot got too strong and I told her lmao. I tried to write this as country as I could so hope y'all enjoy!

THIS JUMPS STRAIGHT INTO THE SMUT SO EVERYTHING IS UNDER THE CUT AS A PRECAUTION

“There you go, Darlin’. Nice and easy..that’s it.” With a soft gag, your mouth finally reached the base of Reiner’s dick, nose brushing against his dark fuzz. A deep groan resounded in his chest as you moved your head, taking him all to the best of your abilities. His large, work worn hands grabbed the back of your head and moved you faster, soft gags leaving your pretty and fucked out throat. “That’s my baby..” Another groan left Reiner’s lips as your acrylic nails lightly grazed his thighs, the light touch sending shockwaves into his body and causing him to slightly lean back on the bed.

He loved it when his sweet girl rewarded him for a job well done after every rodeo. Every time he would compete he’d always wear that black cowboy hat you loved so much and would always snatch a gloss covered goodluck kiss from you right before getting out there. That’s how y’all met in the first place; at one of his rodeo competitions when he was about to take his turn in steer wrestling but started late once he saw you looking at him with those hypnotic eyes. He could’ve lost because of you but no matter how many times he thought back on it, he would lose a million rounds if it meant he could even stand next to you, two million for you to say hi to him.

For you, something about seeing such a burly man kick up the dirt as he held onto the horns of a running bull for dear life and seeing him turn it on its back did something to you. Especially when he’d get up, covered in dirt and send a lil wink your way, a giant grin decorating his sweaty face. To the other ladies in the roaring crowd, they all swooned and screamed to high heaven anytime he was eyeing the crowd, hoping and praying that he’d cast a smile or loving gaze their way. But little did they know, all that sweet smilin’ , winkin’ and even cheesy blown kisses were all aimed on you.

You loved all the aspects of this cowboy, but seeing him in action added a lil something extra to your love. The way he lifted hay bales with ease, how he always looked good even when dirt or mud covered him. How the veins and muscles of his arms flexed and bulged anytime he lassoed a loose bull, concentration and furrowed brows on his face. All that and more had a hold on you something fierce. But those things hit you even harder whenever you two got intimate after a successful Rodeo. It was a ritual at this point and you both loved it.

“Look at me, sugar.” Obeying the command that was drenched in his honey coated Texan Drawl, you gazed up at your cowboy through tear heavy lashes; muscled and hairy chest heaving with every groan and grunt that he gave out, nonverbal praises that made your pussy flutter. A sly smile was present on his reddened face, his black cowboy hat sitting neatly on his head. “There’s those pretty eyes I love so much. You look so perfect right now, baby, I love it.” With a soft push to your head, your mouth met with his pelvis bone once more, his hands keeping you there for a few seconds before easing up on you. “Good girl, doing so well fer me. You always know how to treat me right fer a job well done..” A soft hum in agreement left your throat as you felt your pussy throb at his saccharine words.

With a soft pop, your sweet cowboy released himself from your warm and inviting mouth; libidinous hazel eyes watching the sticky mix of spit and precum slowly travel down your chin. You released a satisfied hum as you wiped your lips with your thumb before licking it, big doe eyes not once leaving Reiner’s face. Your cowboy ran a rugged hand down his face, absolutely enchanted by your gaze and the lewd act you did. No words were necessary on what he wanted to do next, a flash of determination on his flushed face was all you needed to see to rise up from your kneeled position.

Straddling him, Reiner’s pink lips crashed into your two-toned ones with fervor as his rough hands kneaded your plump ass and positioned you right where he wanted you. A sweet moan escaped your lips as you felt his leaking tip slowly enter you, your warm cunt inviting him eagerly despite the tight squeeze. “Fuck Rei…s’too big for me..” You whined softly while his hands squeezed your waist, pulling you down gently. No matter how many times y’all fucked, you could never get used to his size; his thick and veiny dick always made it feel like your first time.

“You can do it baby, I know you can.” Taking his hat off and placing it on your head, another grunt left his mouth as he tried to keep himself under control, your tight grip on his cock practically urging him to thrust wildly upwards. Even though his lifestyle as a cowboy called for him to be aggressive and strong majority of the time, Reiner can’t help but be absolutely gentle with you as if he was handling delicate flowers. In the world of rodeos and farming, you were the only source of gentleness that he craved. “Always doin’ right by yer cowboy..” And with his last word Reiner released a low moan as you finally took him in all in, cock twitching at the enveloping warmth and the soft whine that escaped your plump lips.

Scooting back on the bed and laying down, the cowboy’s burly arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer, lips instantly attaching to yours as he slowly thrusted upwards. Soft moans that left you were timed with each deep thrust, your pussy gradually getting used to his size. “Always cheerin’ me on at my Rodeos..wearing that cute pink hat I got fer you, fuck...you know how to treat a man, right mamas?” His deep and sultry words felt as though they were seeping through your skin and traveling down to your pussy, a tightening grip on his cock being a nonverbal answer to his words.

“Mmmnh, Reiii I- Ah!” Your whine was sharply interrupted as you felt Reiner’s hips snap up with force, his tip kissing your cervix. With a tighter hold on your waist, he pistoned his cock into your dripping pussy, your cream coating his length in a matter of seconds. Your once soft mewls escalated into loud gasps and moans as the noisy claps of your ass meeting his skin filled the air. Holding onto his chest for dear life, you couldn’t help but let your mind turn into mush with every powerful thrust your cowboy rewarded you with. The squelching of your stretched out pussy did nothing but encourage your cowboy further, his hazel eyes not once leaving your face and drinking in your fucked out expression; an agape mouth and furrowed brows decorating your beautiful face.

“Shit mama, yer makin’ a mess on my dick..You feel good ridin’ yer cowboy?” Reiner’s tantalizing voice that you loved so much called out to you and you tried your damnedest to answer but your voice was pushed out of you with every bruising kiss his cock gave to your cervix. A sharp slap was gifted to your ricocheting ass evoking a yelp from you before you felt a calloused hand rub the now sensitive spot. “Answer me baby..tell papa how yer feelin’..” A deep moan left your burly cowboy as he squished your heated cheeks to focus your lustful gaze on him, his free arm holding you with an iron grip keeping you in place.

“Feelsh sh’good papa..got me creamin’ for you..” You let out with a sugary sweet whine that melted your sturdy man to the core. Pleased with your slurred answer, he let go of your face and slapped your ass once more sending a shock through your body.

“Damn baby, yer pussy feels so good taking me in like this..o-oh shit..” The cowboy let out a choked moan escape him as he reveled in how good his dick felt being squeezed by the tight confines of your gaping cunt. You didn’t know how much more you could take, your tear-blurred vision gaining black spots as you felt your orgasm approaching steadfast. With Reiner’s hands snaking their way down to your ass to spread your cheeks apart, you found your opening and sat up slightly; acrylic nails digging into his chest as you held on for dear life. Keeping his fast and aggressive tempo, Reiner could tell from your screwed shut eyes that you were close.

“C’mon sugar, don’t close ‘em..I wanna see those pretty eyes when you cum all over this dick..” His smooth like whiskey voice had a vice grip on you as you opened your eyes as best as you could, your lids only peeling back halfway causing you to bask in all that man’s glory; hair sticking to his forehead and that ever so sly smirk plastered on his face. “There you are, pretty..” With a choked gasp, you felt him reward you with another sharp thrust; your fucked out mind thinking of nothing but your ravenous need to feel him fill you up to the brim with his hot and sticky cum.

“O-oh fuck, Daddy..’M gonna- ahh..you’re gonna make me c-cum!” Your declaration ended in a halted moan as your big cowboy watched with pride as your brown eyes rolled back into your head. You could feel your intense orgasm shoot out like a bronco leaving its pen. Your manicured nails dug deeper into his haired chest as the invigorating feeling washed over you tenfold. “Fuck! Reii!” You panted heavily through your lips. Fucking you through your orgasm, Reiner soaked up the loud whines your throat released. He welcomed the spasms both your body and sweet pussy gave to him, pushing him closer to the sweet edge.

“That’s it darlin’ just keep cumming on that dick..” Words of encouragement engulfed your heated ears as Reiner’s thrusts became harder and sloppier, his own release building up for departure. “Yer gonna make daddy cum all in yer pussy..you want that mama? You wanna get filled up? Wanna carry my f-fuucking kids?” Still reeling from your orgasm you lolled your head in quick nods, his words sending shocks of excitement to your abused pussy. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good with them tits filled with milk..gonna make you look so good, s-shit y/n..”

As if a coil snapped within him, your cowboy’s hips finally stilled as the thick white ropes of his cum painted every bit of your walls; a loud, guttural groan rumbling from his muscled chest as he sloppily thrusted a few more times, trying his hardest to milk every last drop from his heavy balls while also trying to keep every single drop from leaking out. After one last deep thrust, Reiner panted heavily, hazel eyes unfocusing on the ceiling.

Giving out a slow, sensual groan you leaned down and peppered your cowboy’s neck in hot, syrupy kisses; nipping on his bobbing Adam’s Apple as he heaved for air. “Fuck baby..” His words vibrated your lips as you gave him a small hum, his rough hands traveling up and down your smooth brown back. Chuckling, he fixed his lopsided hat on your head, a small smile gracing your lips at the sweet and tender action.

“You look so sexy with my hat on. I should make you wear it more often.” He mused softly as you rubbed his chest, delicate fingers running over the crescent marks you left. You lifted your tender ass, feeling a sliver of cum leak out from you. Your cowboy sighed a soft moan at your readjusting, hands resting on your ass as you sat back down with the length of his cock nestled in your folds.

“Mm, you think so muffin?” You said slowly, mimicking his Drawl and moving your hips back and forth with one hand on his hat as if you were bull riding. A low whine came out of Reiner’s mouth as he furrowed his eyebrows, his cream covered dick hungry for another round.

“Shit..yeah baby..” He confirmed with a low grunt as your sensitive clit glided over his dick. A sweet moan escaped you as you felt your bundle of nerves shock you with more waves of bliss as you kept riding your cowboy. Nothing but soft moans and lewd squelching filled the room as you continued to rub his cock; his swollen tip sometimes poking inside you again causing pleasure filled groans to leave your throat. “Don’t stop..shit..keep ridin’ daddy like a good cowgirl..” One of his rough hands caged your hand that was still on his chest, the other hand firmly grabbing your waist.

With you both feeling near painful sensitivity, your orgasms creeped up faster this time, matching your picked up pace. Reiner cupped both of your breasts as he felt his cock twitch with the oncoming release. “Fuuck y/n..I’m so close baby, keep going..shit..” You released a saccharine moan as you soaked in his dirty words, your clit throbbing in response.

“Mm, me t-too Rei..you’re gonna make me c-cum again..” You whined as his thumbs rolled and pinched your hardened nipples, your mind once more turning into lust drenched mush. With another roll of your hips, your shared orgasms finally arrived with forceful moans; his nut decorating your folds and his pelvis as you contracted on his messy, cream covered dick.

“Right there darlin’, your pussy feels so good doing that on me..” He said softly as you rode out your high, fatigue starting to settle in your bones. “C’mere mama, you done mighty fine by me..” Being lassoed by his honey covered drawl, you leaned down and sloppily kissed him, lips grazing over the stubble on his face. Putting his hat to the side, his hands traveled from the small curls on your neck down to the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing your skin the entire time. With a soft, wet smack your lips separated with a string of saliva between them.

“Y’know I love it when you do well by me, right ma?” He said softly as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat. You giggled softly and nodded as you felt your cowboy’s big arms wrap around you, giving your torso a light squeeze with his words. “Relax for a moment cause in a bit your cowboy wants to go again, ya heard?”

“I heard you loud an’ clear, Cowboy.”

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

Tags:@chrollohearttags @vixxennxx @onlybambibambi @sevikasblackgf @g0blin3ater @kechiwrites @peicksgf @prettygirllisa @chunkygirl07 @photosbyameil @1thrasherkookie1 @aiyaaayei @valentine-115 @madamekaos @sukisweets @iluvlay0111 @glz-100 @yoitsseulgi @ulzzangledust @mimi321us @kozart101 @shinobus-wife @cherrypussprincess @radicaledward55

#reiner x black reader #reiner smut #reiner x black yn #cowboy reiner #black fem reader #black reader smut #aot reiner #aot smut #snk smut #reiner brainrot #chrollohearttags this here fer you #stew’s smut stew #aot x black reader #aot x reader #original stew

436 notes · View notes

miyuhpapayuh · 10 months

Text

fifteen

Music’s playing, candles are burning, there's no light beside the sun peeking through the curtains, shining down on her prettiest subject.

Her glass of white wine is being babysat, cause knowing her and how much of a lightweight she was, a few sips were enough.

Leon definitely took a shot before they got started, since he'd never been a model for anything. His last minute nerves made him even more adorable to Zora.

Blk Odyssy had become one of her favorite musicians, thanks to Leon and his impeccable taste. Their new album, diamonds & freaks served as the soundtrack.

Sexy lady

Got me faded

I'm intoxicated

I been watching, baby

Sexy lady

Sweet Jesus, save me

Go on, and rock me, baby

Don't stop it, baby

“Love this song,” she comments, dipping her brush into the deep red paint, using it as one of her base colors.

“I thought you would.” He replies.

“Yeah, you knew.” She hums a laugh, tilting her head to the left, following the curve she's creating for her study of her boyfriend.

“Are you painting me just like I am?” He asks.

“Well, everything above the knees. That's all I can fit in the canvas.” She answers.

“Where'd you get this idea from?” He asks, curious all of a sudden.

“My sisters actually suggested it. They were really excited that I had started painting again, and since you're my muse, it seemed like something really fun to do.” She explains, poking her head out to look at him, snickering at the focus in his face.

“Quit laughin’ at me,” he mumbles.

“Sorry, you're just so still, like you might break if you move. Relax a little.”

“I thought I needed to stay still.”

“Yeah, but not that still.”

“Hm,” he hums, staring at the back of the easel and the sliver of her face that he could see. A smile graces his face as he watches her in her comfort zone.

Still singing along to the music, she takes another sip of her wine and paints another fine line onto the canvas, super pleased with how everything is turning out.

His green button-up covers her thick frame like a dress.

Her feet were tapping against the bars of the stool, her sloppy bun, flopping around with every concentrated turn of her head.

She was just as focused, but he wasn't gonna tease her. He loved seeing this new side of her. She let him into her art world, finally.

Taking her advice and relaxing, he falls into his natural trance of her, when she readjusts the easel, giving him more than just a peek at her beautiful face.

All the while, she was looking at him and back at the canvas, perfecting every curve, dimple, divot with striking blues and oranges, deep reds and browns.

Stealing glances at him, she tugs on her lip.

She knew it was gonna be kinda distracting, but he definitely wasn't playing fair.

Flexing those big arms of his, “stretching”, was already enough and too much for her. And every time he licked his lips, her left leg would tangle with her right. He caught it each time and smirked.

Once he got to readjusting the only article of clothing he had left, her eyes diverted to his lower region and hers began to throb.

Almost finished.

“Jesus,” she mumbles to herself, shaking her head like it would clear the explicit images swimming around her mind.

“You alright over there?” He asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I'm good,” she shakily answers, taking another sip, which looked more like a gulp from where he was sitting.

“You sure?” He teases.

She laughs, now looking over at him. His devious smirk does nothing to help the wet spot forming between her thighs.

“You done?” He asks.

“No.”

“I'm distracting you?”

“And, you know it.” She nods, making him laugh.

“You told me to relax. I'm just tryna follow the rules, dear.”

“Yeah, and now your friend is winkin’ at me.”

He simply shrugs. “That's your fault.”

“Mine? How?”

“Cause you're so fine. This happens every day, babe.”

“Every day?” She repeats.

“Yeah. A couple times a day.”

“Wow.”

“You've seen you, right?” He asks.

She scoffs, lifting the brush back to the canvas. “Boy, please. I can't even look you in the eye, right now.”

He snickers, moving out of his pose to further mess with her. Pulling his chair just a bit closer, he leans forward to stare at her and she keeps her eyes trained on her work.

“Zoraaa,” he drags out.

“I'm so glad I got all the details I needed, you play so much,” she laughs, trying her best to ignore his taunting.

“Come play with me,” he continues, almost making her drop her brush.

“Can you get back in your position, please?” She asks.

“Can I put you in a couple positions?” He quips, earning that eye roll that he knew was coming.

“If you let me finish… maybe.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, moving right back into his pose. Zora fans her face, no longer caring if he can see how flustered he's made her.

The next thirty minutes dragged on by and she was finally done, not even getting to sit her brush down good before being whisked over to the couch, him hovering over her.

Bruising her lips with his rough kisses, he quickly discards the scrap of lace that barely covered her ass, as well as his own briefs, before sliding into her with one fluid motion.

Gasping into the kiss, her hands cling to his broad back and shoulders, sinking her nails in as the feeling of him bottoming out with every thrust sends fire through her.

His mouth latches onto her neck, while she lets out every expletive she can think of, into the damp air of her apartment.

“Oh m— my god,” she pants, holding him so close to her body, shivering as his groans vibrate on her skin.

“You feel so damn good,” he rasps.

His tongue trails down her chest, nibbling on her breasts as he rips the shirt open, squeezing her flesh into his big hands, driving her crazy as she cradles his head.

Her feet are pressed against his chest and he leans up to do more damage, his hips rutting against her ass that's hanging off the couch. She looks up at him in disbelief.

His hands have her ankles bound, as she cries and writhes underneath him. Her hands move up and down his arms, back down to scratch his hips as it gets too good.

“Fuc– king me so— good,” she squeals, catching both of them off guard as she releases all over him. His thumb finds her clit, making matters slipperier.

“Yeah, gimme all that shit, baby.” He moans, encouraging another orgasm to happen right on the spot. Her edges were back curly by this point.

“C’mere,” she whispers, pulling him back down to her level to swallow his every breath in a kiss. Her cramped legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer if that were even possible.

Pulling away, he smirks down at her, taking her in, breathless, sweaty, hungry for more as she stares back at him, ready for his next move.

“So beautiful,” he says, dragging his thumb across her parted bottom lip, “why don't you pose for me, now.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Once she got around to actually taking in her painting, she was super pleased with how it came out. So was Leon.

“Can I just say, I'm flattered.” He smirks, cracking up at the look she gives him.

“Stop it,”

“Seriously. That's literally me.” He exclaims, pulling her into his side.

“All of me.” He mumbles, hearing her disapproving groan sound through the space.

“Leon, please!” She laughs. “But, you really like it?”

“Love it, sweet stuff. I told you. Art gallery.” He says, smiling down at her.

She smiles back up at him, shaking her head. “Nah, not yet.”

He raises a brow at her, earning a brighter smile.

“Not yet, huh? So you're getting closer to putting yourself out there?” He excitedly asks.

“Yeah, I thought about what you said and it doesn't sound like a bad idea. I'm just nervous, ya know?”

“Why?”

“I feel stunted. Like, I gave everything up to be someone's doormat and.. I don't know. I just feel like the level of artistic ability has kinda dissipated? And yeah, I know. I look at my paintings and I see what I'm capable of so get that sad look off your face,” she pinches his cheek as he laughs, “I just have my doubts.”

He wipes the frown away, but there's still sadness there. He wants nothing more than for her to believe in herself. Fully.

“It's harder than it seems to cross some hurdles, I understand that. But if you really want this, that's what you gotta do.”

“No, I know. And, I appreciate you for putting me back in front of this here easel. It's been a while, but it's always so much fun.”

“Of course, baby. It's a pleasure watching you in your zone.” He says, leaning down to kiss her temple.

“I cannot show this one to the girls.” She snickers, before looking up at him.

“Yeah, nah. Maybe the top half.”

“Please. I can hear Nique fighting for the extra details, as we speak.”

“That girl is hilarious.” He comments, moving to stand behind her and wrap his arms around hers.

“Funniest person I know, besides myself, of course.”

“And me. Hol’ up.”

“Right, right. Can't forget about you,” she snickers, yelping at the pinch to her butt.

“It's what you get.. talkin’ shit.” He mumbles into her neck.

“Oh yeah, don't try and bill me for that shirt, since you were the one that ripped the buttons off.” She says, making him chuckle.

“One, I would never do that for real, it's an empty threat every time.” He admits, making her laugh. “And two, I can always get the buttons put back on. Or you can just add it to your collection.”

“Oh, I was gonna do that anyway, cause that's how I am.” She smiles like he can see her.

“Something else.” He shakes his head.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“Why I can't see that one??” Nique asks, pointing to the covered canvas and stomping her heeled foot like a bratty child.

“Cause you play too much, man.” Zora waves her off, pointing to the painting on the easel. “But you can look at this one!”

Nique immediately gasps at how breathtaking the painting was. It's as if Zora had committed Leon's face to memory and captured him in five different lights so realistically.

“Girl, when I say talented doesn't even cover it.” She shakes her head, looking over at her best friend.

“Oh, girl. Stop.”

“Nah, man. This is on another level!” She swats her arm in excitement. “Like, that's his literal face, dude! How do you even do something like this?!”

She shrugs. “I honestly just sat her and did it. He came to my mind and I just let my paintbrush guide me.”

“Wow.” She says in response, making Zora laugh.

“Yeah, I said the same when I was done.”

Staring back at the canvas, she smirks. “So, are you gonna do anything with it?”

“Ah— I might. I don't know yet, really.”

“Cause you know, it would be really nice if someone invested in you snagging a spot at the mint museum to display such a piece.”

Zora squints her. “That's still something you'd do for me?”

“Zora, it's like you forget who I am or something. I'm highly offended right now.” She places her hands on her hips, reminding her of both of their mothers.

“Get your hands off your hips, Roberta! I know who you are! It's just.. I don't know. That was a long time ago and that was the biggest dream I've ever had to give up.”

“It's okay, I understand. But my offers are never conditional to you, dude. You could not even be my friend anymore and I'd still send you the money to do it cause I believe in you. That bozo of a boyfriend was a hater and he fucked everything up, yeah he did. But look at you, rebuilding it right now. Every time you get in front of the canvas do this,” she's eyes wide as she points back to the canvas, “you're getting so much closer to that dream of yours.”

By now, Zora is wiping tears away. Nique frowns and pulls her into a much needed hug. She wasn't expecting to get emotional today, but leave it to her best friend to pull a few tears out of her.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. I know you hate that,” she softly laughs, wiping her cheeks.

“It's okay, I think I've needed to let it out for a while.” She smiles, covering her face for a moment to get herself together.

Nique heads into her kitchen to wet a paper towel, bringing it back to cool down her flushed face.

“Ugh, anyway,” she outright laughs. “I really appreciate you. That really does mean so much that you could hate my guts and still help me out. That's the kind of support everybody needs.” She covers her heart, Nique doing the same.

“One of a kind, I know.” She nods. “And it's nothing, seriously. You're my mother’s kid as much as I'm yours. I got you, you got me.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I love you too, man.”

“I've honestly been thinking about getting back out there for a while, but you and Neoma already knew that cause that's what y'all do,” she snorts, beating her to it, “Lovita is close to getting there, she all into Clyde right now—”

“You mean, he's all into her?”

“Right. Anyway, she'll catch on, but Leon asked me a while ago and I've just been sitting on the idea for a while. Maybe.. I wanna paint a couple more pieces and then maybe I can look into it.”

“Yeah, hey! Nobody is pressuring you. I promise. You know we just wanna see you do your best and you are the best. Fuck him and fuck those negative voices he left behind. You're the shit, Jean. Let's ask his ass to come pick up a fucking pencil and see if he won't jam it into his eye, before tryna attempt what you did on this canvas. I'd bet you the air in this room and win. He's a bitch.”

“Okay, okay,” she cackles, “relax, relax. You hate him more than I do, at this point!”

“I could kill him,” she smiles, “because you deserve better and girl, look at god! Better meets you at your favorite place!”

“I know, I can't wait to tell everyone at the wedding, someday.” She giggles.

“Oh lord, that's gonna be the countriest wedding ever!”

“Stop! It's gonna be the most beautiful wedding you've ever been to, shut up!”

“Y'all gon be letting doves go, it's gon be a duck pond somewhere cause y'all love the ducks, flowers of every damn kind!”

“Nah, I'm pretty sure he's already got flower combos to present to me.” She laughs, remembering one of their trips to the shoppe this past summer.

“What?”

“He was asking me which flowers were which one time, and they'd just happened to be my second favorite flower, my mama's favorite and he asked me if I thought they would pair well with aster, which is his mama's favorite flower, and I just kinda looked at him like… I know what you're up to.” She laughs at the giant smile on Nique's face.

“Aw, that is so cute! He thinks he's slick, let him be slick!”

“Nah, I'm not gonna burst his bubble! I thought it was adorable. He's so cute, I can't take him sometimes.”

“Lord have mercy. So, I got a question.”

“No, I'm not having a maid of honor. Y'all ain't killing me, cause I'd make it all of you.”

“You can have three! It's your wedding!”

“Three maids of honor? That don't sound crazy?”

“Nah, not to me. I was gonna do that for mine.”

“Really?” Zora smiles, making Nique laugh.

“See, look at your face! Do it for yours, too! Wouldn't that work out better anyway? Three people to divy up your something old, new and blue. Might be something you've have your eye on.”

“Okay, okay! We're getting so ahead of ourselves, and what if I don't get married? Then I can't get that something new… or blue??”

“Girl,” Nique laughs. “You worried about the gift?”

“Yes, duh. Leon ain't going nowhere. We don't have to get married, honestly. It's just another dream of mine, but I'm not as traditional as I used to be. But, I'd love to get married, too. Don't listen to me.” She cuts herself off.

“No, no. I totally get it. What girl doesn't wanna confess her love to the man of her dreams in front of everyone they both love?! In a frilly dress! With a veil! Or no veil! Big poofy hair! A reception! We'd throw the biggest party, you already know it!”

“Yeah, we would!” She agrees.

“Right! Don't let go of your dreams, keep 'em close. Just in case. Hell, Leon seems like a wonderful suitor so far!”

“Yeah, he’ll do long,” she jokes.

“Now back to this canvas, over here.” Nique says, making Zora sigh super loudly.

“Dominique.”

“Let. Me. See. It.”

“No.”

“Whyy??” She whines again, adding extra syllables to the word.

“Because, you play too much!”

“I'll be good, I promise! I just wanna see it!”

Zora rolls her eyes, before moving to uncover it, watching the joy wash over her best friend.

“Behave. I'm serious.”

“I said I'll be good, girl! Uncover the thing already!”

She does so, waiting for her snarky remarks, but they never come.

Again, “wow” was the way she described this one, too.

“See? I'm lost for words, actually.” She shakes her head. “You've done it again, man. The detailing is beautiful.”

And with that, she covers it back up. “I knew it wouldn't last long.”

“Long, like—”

“Nique!”

“Okay, okay!” She holds her hands up. “But uh.. congratulations!” She puts emphasis on the end of her sentence, stomping her foot again.

“Thank you. I love it over here.”

“Trust me, I love it over there.” She winks, both of them falling into a fit of giggles as she covers the canvas back up.

“Do tell, since I basically just did.” Zora presses as they sit on the stools in her kitchen.

“He's big all over. He makes me dizzy, sometimes,” she laughs. “Baby is hung to the left, and you know how I feel about a curve!”

“Yeah, you love it over there!” She cackles, slapping hands with her.

“Wait, y'all ain't in love too are y'all??”

“Chile, no. As much as we be up on each other, he's my man and I'm his woman and that's good enough for us, right now. I really like him, but we can kick it just as long as I don't gotta kick his ass.”

“My girl.” She laughs. “I told you I'd find you a boo!”

“Thank you, Zora-Jean. My god!” She exasperates.

“You're welcome! That was so hard for the three of you to say! Why?!”

“Because,”

“Y'all are so ungrateful,” she playfully digs.

“Stop it! Personally, I was holding my breath for a while. I didn't wanna thank you too early and then all this bad shit would start happening, and knowing you, you'd think I'd resent you for it. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't waiting for the other foot to drop. I'm sorry.”

“I accept your apology, and don't feel bad seriously, I get it. Knowing me, I probably would think that, but I know better! It's one of those negative voices,” she shrugs, “but I'm glad this is a good relationship. You deserve it, honestly. Plus, I'd kill him if he ever hurt you.” She smiles.

“And you talk about Lovita!” Nique cackles.

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @cecereads209 @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @harmshake @mauvecherie-writes @honestpreference

#mochaff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii #zora x leon #smut #fluff

81 notes · View notes

boygiwrites · 8 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 4

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Happy to be posting another chapter! Please enjoy :)

We drive all morning.

The leafy dirt and tilted trees of the quarry crawl past our windows, and they take about an hour to turn into cement roads, gas stations, pharmacies and corner stores with the windows busted out. We're in an empty town, now, trailing the sidewalks like a long line of ants.

At the head of the group is officer Rick's car, leading us left and right 'round the edges of danger and death, 'cause that's what cops do. Behind him is Morales' car. Then, me and my Dad are in the middle, and behind us is the RV. At the back, sandwiching us all together, 'cause he's the only other cop, is officer Shane. His voice crackles up on the walkie every few minutes, goin', everything lookin' good up front, over, which Rick's voice answers, all's good, over, except for that one time, 'cause there was a dead buck blocking the road, and they had to get out and shove it off.

Sometimes we'll get a, Daryl, from one of them, which means, How's Harley, which means, Do we need to pull over and shoot your daughter in the face, and my Dad always answers with a, Keep drivin', and he throws the walkie down like it tried biting him.

Adults like addin' layers onto what they say, 'cause the truth is too offensive to say out loud.

My Dad's watchin' me real close; closer than the road, even. He's chewin' on his thumb.

Things were a little like this when it was just us, in the beginning. All we did for the first three days was drive.

Then, we found these people.

I think about Rick — And how just for one more day, he saved my life.

He split Sophia's Dad in half with a bullet, to keep him from ripping me up. Without him, maybe those teeth in my shoe would'a had one more moment to sink into me, and I'd be dead again, some other way. The only reason I'm able to feel the sun on my skin right now, and listen to the birds as they flutter and chirp on the phone lines is because of Rick, the man who killed my Uncle. I'm half-dyin', and Rick — He's half-good. There might be walker germs inside my body, and they might be squirming their way into my lungs, and my heart, and eventually, my brain, which will turn me into one more dead name the living will have to carry around with 'em, and my Dad will be sad forever, but today, I get to watch the sky pass over us.

That's just enough, I think, for me to only hate officer Rick with half of everything I got.

The walkie chimes.

"Daryl?" It's Rick, again, and I know his police badge is prolly winkin' in the sunlight.

Do we need to shoot your daughter in the face? Did I fail?

Dad snatches up the walkie. He don't like answering the secret question that Rick's askin', not one bit.

"No. Keep drivin'."

He throws it down and goes back to chewin' his thumb, bouncin' his knee, and glancin' at my arm. If he could, he'd blast the music so loud that there wasn't enough space left in his head to think so hard about everything. I go back to watching the clouds pass by, just for today.

We drive all morning, and then after that, we drive all afternoon.

Somebody honks twice, quick. Honk, honk.

That's code for, everybody pull over; something's wrong.

"Stay here, chicken," My Dad mutters, before he hops out. We're in a parking lot for a supermarket.

The adults gather, and the kids are all lookin' at each other through the windows, mouthing what's going on, and frowning. We all shrug.

My Dad comes back a few minutes later.

"Old man says the RV's runnin' on fumes." Dad reports, folding him arms on my window.

"What's that mean?" I ask him.

I can feel nausea spilling in through my stomach; rolling inside my skull, for the third time today.

"Means we're gonna have to stay here for a little bit." He sighs.

The first thing I do when he lets me out the truck is retch my guts up onto the front tyre.

Heads turn, and I know everybody's already makin' excuses in their heads, like I'm just feeling car-sick, but it's just not true. I'm not car-sick. I've been throwing up since yesterday, and everyone knows it, 'cause they watch me like hawks.

My Dad helps me use a spare shirt to wipe my chin clean, and then he sets me up in one of the camping chairs people are pulling out for the long wait. He makes me drink some water, three big sips, and he finds me an apple to nibble on, nagging me to eat as much I can. I hesitate, 'cause it's just gonna end up in another slimy puddle of vomit some hours from now, but I bite into it, anyway.

He tells me to stay put, and then he's leaving with all the other men to search for gas. The women hover around me — Some sitting, some leaning, some standing, but all of 'em starin'. Except for poor, poor Andrea, who's not staring at anything other than her shoes. I feel like Andrea.

More apples and water get passed around.

"Sweetie, I just wanted to tell you I'm so sorry." Lori says to me. "I should have been paying more attention. I shouldn't have let you run off."

I force myself to look at her. "Don't be sorry. It's my fault."

"Oh," She sighs, and she just looks so, so sad. "Please don't say that. It's not your fault."

But, "It is my fault." I tell her. "I ran away."

Carol speaks up. "Honey, what happened was not your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was just... a terrible, terrible accident."

Jacqui nods. "Don't blame yourself."

"Rick feels awful." Lori admits. "After Atlanta, after Merle... Now, this. God. He's just so torn up about it."

I shrink into my chair, 'cause I don't wanna hear a single word 'bout Rick, or his feelings. He saved me, but he's not my friend, and I don't have to care about his feelings; especially not when they're about murdering my family. I don't have to care about any of their feelings. I think they're forgetting that I'm also waiting to see if I die. They keep glancing at my skin, my eyes, and my fingers, which aren't twitching, yet — But, so am I. I don't want to die. I want to listen to the birds every day. I want to see my Dad, too. I want to watch the stars at night, and pick out the shiniest one.

"Okay," Is all I can croak out, 'cause there's something very thin inside of me that's stopping me from crying, and I don't wanna break it.

Then — "God," It's Andrea, and she's laughing. "She's dying! The kid is dying, people!"

I whip my head up. The other women gasp.

"Last thing she wants is you people pestering her all-damn day, so just do her a favor and shut your traps."

Everyone is gobsmacked, as Dale likes to say. Their mouths are hanging open, and their eyes are all shifty, like they're lookin' around to see if everyone just heard what they just heard. But, yep, they heard right. Andrea just said the word dying, which is basically a cuss word, and nobody can do anything to take it back.

You can't swallow words you already said. I know that, 'cause I've tried, like the night I told my Dad he killed my Momma.

"Or Daryl's gonna come back and do it for you."

Andrea don't even care 'bout the stares. She goes back to eating her apple.

"I don't think that's appropriate," Lori tells her.

Jacqui sighs. "Let's just talk about something else, y'all, huh? Like, uh..."

"There's nothing else to talk about, Jacqui. We're all just playing the waiting game, here. Whether we talk about the damn weather or not isn't gonna change the fact that we might have to shoot Harley in the face in a few hours."

Andrea's right, and nobody can change it.

After that, all we do is wait, and wait, and wait, for me to start twitching. Nobody likes this game.

To keep busy, me and the other kids scribble flowers and stick-men into the tarmac with some chalk that Carol finds in a trunk, and she makes sure to compliment my drawings way more than the others, even though they're kinda wonky. Carl snacks on some jerky. Then Dale wonders on back, and we get to listen to some more of his poetry book, which has teeny-tiny letters that he needs to put his glasses on to read. It makes him look more like everybody's grandpas than he already does. My Grandpappy Dixon, though — He wouldn't read no damn poetry book. He'd chop it up and use it for firewood, just so he could burn some more poetry books.

We're on a poem about a newborn lamb when the men come back.

They're all carrying jerry cans and plastic tubing and heavy, droopy frowns that mean bad news. Glenn flops onto a chair and when he shakes his head, sweat goes flying off, and his arms are covered in black car soot. Morales and T-Dog pinch and shake out their sweaty shirts.

My Dad stands behind my chair, squeezing onto the muscles on either side of my neck.

"You eatcher apple?" He murmurs to me.

"Yeah," I murmur back, and he nods.

Everybody straightens.

"Alright, y'all." Rick hooks his thumbs into his belt. "At the moment, we're only getting gas from 'bout one outta every fifteen cars we check, which'll have us back on the road in about a couple hours. I'm aware that ain't ideal. I'm aware we're on a time limit, here. But we don't have a lotta options."

"There's space in the RV." Comments Dale. "We could ditch one of the cars; pile in the RV."

Shane tries to laugh. "That's a whole lotta pilin', there, Dale."

Glenn looks like he hates to say it, but, "He's right. We've already got me, Jacqui, Carol, Sophia and Andrea crammed in there."

Dale deflates and goes back to stroking his beard.

"Now, this here's a parking lot, people." Shane announces. "There's cars here. There's gas. We're just gonna have to stick it out 'til then."

There's a general wave of disagreement passing over everyone's faces.

I know what they're thinking.

"Is someone going to say it?" Carol huffs, and nope, nobody's going to say it, so she has to. "Harley can't just, 'stick it out'."

We haven't had a real conversation about this. My imminent maybe-death has only been passed around in whispers and mumbles, like a bad stain nobody wants to hold onto for too long. Nobody wants to mention my weak stomach or just how much I've been hurling up my food, because that way, it can't just exist in the background, anymore. It has to take a front seat, where they can see it; where it's scarier.

As soon as the words come out Carol's mouth, eyes start jumping around, as if it's easier to discuss my death if they can't see me.

"I'm sorry, but that's the reality, here." Carol's taking a page out of Andrea's book. "Daryl, how many times has that girl thrown up today?"

His hands grip me harder. "'Bout... 'Bout four-five times."

"Right. So, I think it's time we throw the possibility of those scratches bein' nothing out the window." She says, grim.

Glenn rubs at his forehead. "Oh my God."

"W— H-Hold on, now." Dale's stuttering, shaking his head. "We can't just diagnose her from— from one measly symptom."

"This doesn't change anything." Shane suddenly argues.

My Dad starts, "The Hell it don—"

"We're headed to the CDC for a cure." Shane talks over him. "We're headed there, and that's it. It's all we can do."

Dale's just totally appalled. "I think there's a lot more we can do."

"That supply run from a few weeks ago," Glenn's frowning, "I brought back some good stuff. Maybe that can... Stave it off."

It, meaning the germs reaching my brain, once and for all. I recall the posters in my old science classroom, where a person's head would be sliced in half and you could see all the brains on the inside, and I imagine that it's my brain, and that there are millions of little ants chewing away at the edge, and then one of them breaks through, 'cause all it takes is one, and they eat my brain from the inside-out like an old melon, then that's the end — I die.

My Dad can tell what I'm thinking, 'cause he's magic like that, and he silently takes my place in the chair, and sets me in his lap. His arms wrap around my waist, and Jacqui reaches over to put her hand over mine.

You can't stave off turning into a walker. You can try — Like, with cables, and apologies — but really, it doesn't work like that. We're all just meat and bones and guts and skin, and rules like dying apply to us, even if we don't want 'em to. We're all just animals, even if we read poetry.

Shane scrubs his face with his hand, and he looks like he really wants to call Glenn a cuss word. "Glenn—"

"It doesn't work like that, I know." Glenn snaps. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm an idiot? You think I wanna watch a kid die?"

Rick pipes up. "Nobody's sayin—"

"'Nobody's saying that', I know," Glenn argues, "But you're all thinking it. What? You don't even want to try?"

"No. It's a good idea." Rick disagrees. "In fact, I'm all for it. Daryl?"

My Dad's gone quiet. He gives a nod.

"Well, then I don't think it's anyone else's decision to make." Rick concludes. "What do we have?"

"Kaopectate, Ibuprofen. Nausea stuff." Glenn lists, calmer now.

"Still stuck sitting on our asses, though." Morales sighs, holding Eliza, who's not full of germs. "Wasting time we don't have."

"CDC's not going anywhere." Jim shrugs.

Suddenly, Dad's not quiet anymore. "How 'boutchu go ahead and share whatcher fuckin' problem is with the class?"

Jim claims, "Don't got one."

"Nah, matter fact," Dad scowls, "You know what? You said my daughter's life ain't worth a few drops of gas this mornin', if I 'memmer right, so why don't you go ahead and shoot a fuckin' hole in yer head 'fore I get up 'n do it for you? Right here, right now?"

Jim's jaw drops. "Woah—"

"Hey — Let's just get back on track, here." Rick holds up his hands, always the peacemaker. "There's no need for this."

Jacqui whips her hand in the air, squinting. "Hang on. What?"

"Yeah," Dad's getting heated; his voice higher. "This fuckin' string-bean bastard, you know what he said to me this mornin'? He said, 'Let's just think 'bout how much gas this is gonna cost us', with some lil' fuckin' smirk, when we were talkin' about savin' Harley."

Jim bursts, "Oh, that's compl—"

Conversation breaks out, but my Dad's shouting over all of it. "Yeah, man! S'what you said, right to my face!"

"That's—" Lori's gobsmacked. "I don't even know what to say to that, Jim."

"H— H-hang—" Rick's trying desperately to squash all this arguing down, but the shouting and the bodies — standing, now — are drowning him. Underneath me, my Dad's legs are jerking up and down, up and down, like that day in camp, 'cause he wants to get up and beat Jim until he's just a lumpy, red smear in the road. Suddenly, there's half a dozen people out of their chairs, forming one hostile voice. "H— Hang on, a secon—"

"You know what," Shane's booming, "I thought there was something off 'bout the way you said that, Jim."

"Is that true?" Glenn's asking, eyebrows screwed tight. "That's messed up, man."

Morales frowns, "Would you say that about my daughter?"

"Calm down," Dale echoes Rick. "Calm down."

"What, you gonna hit me, now? That's whatcher gon' do?" My Dad goads, grinnin', now. "Really?"

"Calm down," Jacqui says.

"Calm down," Lori says.

"Calm down!" T-Dog says.

"Calm down!!" Rick bellows, furious, absolutely furious, and there's a cracking gunshot — a bang — aimed into the clouds, and then silence.

Absolute, total, complete silence. It's so solid that people are stuck in it. So solid that I can hear the bird on the hood of Dad's truck jumping back and forth on its little talons, twenty feet away. It watches, oblivious, hopping and shuffling, until people start remembering to breathe again.

Even Rick is disturbed, and he's the one that pulled the trigger. "That's enough," He exhales, lowering his revolver.

"That's gonna pull a lot of geeks this way." Glenn whispers.

"Good thing we can leave right now, then." Rick pants, and he's staring down Jim, now. What does he mean? Leave right now? But we're stuck here. He said that. His cheekbone looks like an old plum, from where my Daddy punched him a couple days ago, and his eyes; they're piercing, like sharp, blue shards of glass melting under a blowtorch, and suddenly, he don't look like much of a peacemaker no more. "'Cause, Jim, your seat just became available."

His seat? What's that mean? Is he—?

"You're leaving me here?" Jim cries.

"Next bullet's goin' in your leg." Rick tosses the words at Jim, tired. "You doin' this willingly, or not?"

Jim cries out again, and that's how he goes down — He goes down crying and kicking and screaming, bastards, bastards, bastards, but the words mean nothing, and Dale's tryna stop them but neither him or Jimmy are strong enough to fend off four other grown men. I find myself in Lori's arms, right beside Carl, watching with my heart in my mouth, as Shane, Rick, Morales, and my Dad pin Jim down like he's an angry cat, and beat his fighting hands into a long coil of rope that they twist — God, you don't have to do this, please, you don — it tight, and then they anchor him to a shopping cart bay, and they leave him there, with nothing but a jar of peanut butter, a steak knife, an unloaded gun, and their bitter regards.

Dale's blubbering, speaking up for everyone who won't; can't. "This isn't right—"

But they brush past us, into the cars. Rick grabs Lori. My Dad grabs me. Shane starts unloading his Jeep, 'cause we're leaving that behind, too.

"We're leaving Jim?" I shriek quietly to my Dad, who's ushering me back into the truck.

He yanks my seat-belt down. "Ain't our fault," Click. "Fella deserves it."

"But—"

The door slams shut.

"Please!" Jim cries. I scramble to peer outside, and I see him kicking the air. "Please! I'll die out here!"

"If yer smart, you'll cut yourself out with the knife, and you'll ration the jar." Daddy calls out as he hops in the driver's seat. "But it's like I said." Slam. "Bag'a bricks."

"No, no, no! Please!"

More doors slamming shut; engines roaring to life. Rick shouts out the radio channel, again, as a reminder.

I can still hear Jim screaming when we peel out onto the highway.

"Everything lookin' good up front? Over."

A pause.

"All's good. Over."

I never wanted this.

Outside the windows, the sunset is melting purples and oranges all over each other like hot wax, and the tips of wheat fields are whipping past.

There's a long list of things that have happened the past few weeks that I never wanted.

I never wanted to leave home. Homes aren't meant to be left. That's why we got a word for house and a word for home, 'cause they're different. House is the walls and the bricks and the paint, but home is the twenty-year-old sofa that's in it, and the people that have been on it, and the old pictures stuck on the fridge. It's where I made memories in the day and dreamt about 'em at night. It's where I took my first steps, and it's where I cried, and laughed, and broke my first bone, and got my height scribbled into the doorframe. It's where I miss — deeply, like a wound I can't put a bandage on — every moment of every day. It's where I won't get to grow up. I never wanted to drive for days and go nowhere. I never wanted my Uncle Merle to turn into a star. I never wanted a dead man to scratch my own death into my skin, and there be nothing I could do to stop it besides stave it off. I never wanted to die; not yet, not now, not before I could live.

And parents aren't supposed to live longer than their kids. It's just one of them rules that everybody's born knowing.

I think that's why my Dad is cryin' again; crying, crying, crying, and he just can't stop. My Daddy never cries. Toughest man in camp, I'd say.

The common assessment, now, is that I really am infected. I'm going to die.

I remember my Dad's wallet, with all the photos tucked into the sleeves. I remember all the other photos we lost, or left, or didn't think to capture. I remember my last birthday, which was my seventh. Such a small number. Not even all my fingers. Some people get two number-candles on their cakes before they die. I only got one, but that's okay, 'cause I got other things. I got a day just for me, and I got I love you's, wrapped up in pink and even pinker birthday paper, and I got it all even though my Daddy didn't have much money. I got to live. I don't know how many days are in a year, but I know it's a lot. There's even more in seven years. I got to be alive for every single one of them. Isn't that lucky?

We left Jim to die, and I never wanted that, neither. Nobody deserves to die. I don't.

"Daddy, are you gonna leave me?" I ask. Maybe I won't get shot; I'll get left. I don't know which one I'd choose. I don't wanna choose at all.

"God," My Dad snuffles, smackin' away his tears. "Don't fuckin' ask me that."

"I— It's gonna happen, though." The germs will reach my brain, and that'll be it. "E-everyone thinks so. I'm sick."

"Shut the fuck up, Harley." My Dad whispers, and I wish he was singing again.

"Dad—"

"Don't."

"Maybe you should— Maybe you shoot me instead."

"This weren't never supposed to fuckin' happen!" He shrieks, suddenly, and punches the horn. "Fuck!"

Then, right on time, the walkie chimes.

"Daryl?"

Do we need to shoot your daughter in the face? Is it over?

With a rage like I ain't never seen before, my Dad steals the walkie off the dash and smashes it into the horn, over and over again, honk, honk, honk, honk, honk, until a piece breaks off, and then another, and another, until the buttons all pop off and the plastic cracks in half, like a broken heart. Then he chucks the whole thing out the window, and it's gone forever, and he sucks in a breath that sounds like a chainsaw tryna start, and he cries.

I feel sick again. My stomach's ballooning up and shrivelling down at the same time, and I'm gonna be sick.

By now, all the cars are pulling over, 'cause my Dad honked the stop, pull over signal ten times over, and then some.

"Daddy, I need to get out—" I'm sayin', gagging.

"Fu— I know. I know." He's sayin' back, and he swerves onto the side of the road, into the wheat.

He leaps out, slams the door shut, and runs around to my side, but by the time he yanks my side open, I've already thrown up all over my feet. I lurch, and then there's more, and my stomach empties again, and there it is — I see the apple, and I see- I see blood, streaked through it, like red-brown poison. I cough more up while my Dad soothes my back and holds my hair out the way.

Then, there's Rick and Dale, standing at either one of my Dad's shoulders.

"Is she okay?" Dale's panting.

"That's it. There you go." Dad beats on my back, and I spit the last of the apple-slime onto the floor. "It's done?"

I murmur a uh-huh, and then I realise what I've done. "I'm sorry."

"Hell you got to be sorry 'bout?" He frowns, still half-crying; still mourning me while I'm still here.

"The— The truck."

"Huh? The tr—?" He huffs, confused, and then shakes his head. "Truck's the last thing I give a damn about."

Rick's tryna put a smile on, but it don't look quite right. "We've got tissues in our car. We can clean it."

I wish they'd all turn away, 'cause it's like I'm naked. My vomit, and the blood, is just sittin' there like a puddle of evidence and dead people germs, for everyone to see. My Dad pulls me out by my wrist, and then we're sitting on the steps of the RV, and he's cradling me, and I'm crying like a baby, and the seven years mean nothin', 'cause I'm zero years old again, like I was in that picture at the hospital, a little pink newborn, so new and alive, and I just need my Momma and my Daddy to kiss it all better again. All I got is my Daddy, now. He's tryin'. But all the kisses in the world won't bring my Momma back. They won't give me another birthday.

"Sh, sh, sh, baby." He's sniffling into my hair, kissing where it meets my skin. "Shhh. I'm sorry, baby. Stop cryin'. Stop cryin'. Please."

But I can't. Not when I'm dying, and I ain't even lived, yet.

Lori and Rick clean the car out for my Dad, and when I climb back in ten minutes later, it's like it was never there, but we all know it was.

We continue driving into the night.

Carl can balance spoons on his nose.

He can also bend his thumb all the way back, twirl a coin like a spin-top, and cross and uncross his left eye. It's pretty cool. Now I know five things about Carl.

"Check this out." He says.

We're sitting at the RV booth, 'cause I get to sleep in here again, tonight. Morales is driving my Dad's truck for us. It's nearly us kids' bed-time, but Carl's trying all this stuff to make me feel better, and his Momma's lettin' him. My stomach's still whirling around, and my eyelids feel bloated, but it's working. I'm not crying anymore, not so much.

"How do you do that?" I giggle, sniffing. He passes me the spoon, and I try copying him.

I wish we had actual toys to play with, but we just gotta make do with what we got.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just kinda do it."

Lori's chuckling to herself in the passenger seat, next to Dale.

I drop the spoon. This is hard.

"Show me again," Demands little Eliza, who looks far too grumpy for someone so small. "Show me how it works."

Carl's like Glenn — He's a good sport — So, he tilts her head and moves her spoon around until it stays, and she's giggling, too.

"Wanna see what else I can do?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

There's more? Just how cool is Carl?

He takes Sophia's spoon, and he takes my spoon, and then he grips them both so they're cupping each other. He shakes them. Cluh-clink, cluh-clink, cluh-clink. Music!

"I need a piece of wheat to chew on or something." He smiles, pulling an uh-huh, look how awesome I am, face. "Cowboys used to play the spoons, right?"

I grin. "You should have a cowboy hat, like your Dad's. Then you'll be a real cowboy."

"And a horse!" Sophia adds.

"And a gun!" Louis snarls, excited.

Lori gives us a sassily raised eyebrow. "Uh. I don't think so."

It's so silly that we all start laughing together. Carl, the spoon-clinkin' cowboy of the West.

"Oh, and did you know—?" Carl's got another trick. He presents the spoon to me, backwards.

My upside-down reflection stares back at me. For a second, I'm curious, but the feeling quickly fizzles away. Is that really what I look like? The little girl in the spoon got blonde hair that's all spillin' out of a rushed pony-tail in shoulder-length strips, and choppy bangs, and heavy brown eyebrows at the bottom of her face. She got one little black mole dotted onto her cheekbone, a fairy kiss, like Momma called 'em, and another one under her nose. She got purple-ish craters above her lids. She got red cheeks. She got a pair of green eyes, blinking at me from her upside-down prison inside the spoon. She's me, but inverted; wrong. I don't like this trick.

The girl in the spoon is frowning.

"What is it?" Carl asks. He pulls the spoon away and inspects it. "It didn't work?"

"N— No." I quickly tell him. "It worked."

"Then, what's wrong?" He asks, but not in the way adults do. There are no layers to anythin' he says, 'cause he ain't learnt to add 'em, yet.

I think of the spoon-girl, and I compare her to my school photo — The right way up; healthy, a neat ponytail.

"I just look so different," I shrug, 'cause I ain't learnt neither.

Sophia looks like a little dolly when she pouts. "Yeah..."

"What's it feel like?" Eliza asks.

She leans forward, 'cause she wants to hear a secret. Am I allowed to tell her one?

Everyone at this table's seen somebody turn before. Sophia saw her Dad turn. Eliza and Louis saw their Aunt and Uncle turn. Carl was there when Amy... I saw a hitch-hiker turn, once. There's not really an exact moment where someone changes. There's no switch. There's only a slow decline, and then a last breath. Then somebody else wakes up, in your body. This is what I say to the other kids. I think they're picturing each step happening to me as I describe them.

Louis goes, "Woah..."

Then, Eliza asks the un-askable. "Harley, you should show us what's under the bandage."

We all look at her. A proposition. We're all thinking, is she crazy, but then I say the un-sayable, 'cause lookin' won't hurt.

"Alright," I murmur, glancing at Lori and Dale. Their backs are turned. "I'll just lift the corner, okay?"

They all nod and lean even closer.

I pick at the edge of the seal, and it burns, just a little, and nope, the adults are still not looking, so I keep peeling and peeling until there's a little hole. We all contort ourselves to peer inside, and I keep going and going, and it's halfway off, now. It's like I'm opening a little door into a different dimension. I'm expecting melting, pizza-cheese skin, and maybe some gross, alien fungus carpeting a layer of yellow ooze, and blood bubbling up under my muscles, and we can almost see the scratches, now, and I wonder if—

"Hey." I whip my head around — we all do, like meerkats — and it's not Lori, or Dale. It's my Dad, coming in through the bedroom door. He's too tired to be proper angry, so he just sighs. "What the Hell do you think you're doin'?"

"Sorry—"

Wordlessly, he comes up to me and sticks the patch back down.

"What's going on back there?" Lori asks. "You guys behaving?"

"Takin' her bandage off." Dad snitches on me.

He kisses me quickly on the hair to balance out the scolding. He's never done that before. Then he pulls a box of pills off the kitchen shelf.

"Time for yer second one of these."

Lori gets up to pour me a cup of water, and Dad pinches my nose, and I swallow the pill in one gulp.

This is what some people would call a last ditch attempt — Racing to the CDC, filling my stomach with Glenn's medicine, and not being allowed to fiddle with the bandage, to stave it off. Rules are just words, but I'm supposed follow 'em, anyway. That's why I say I'm sorry again, but Dad don't like that, either. He says it's bed-time.

"Say goodnight to everyone," He tells me, 'cause he likes when I have good manners.

He grabs my pyjamas off the back of the driver's seat, where Dale's trying not to fall asleep on his face. I say goodnight to the other kids, and Lori, who gives me a hug. Dale calls out a goodnight, too, and he reaches over to ruffle my hair, like a grandpa. Then my Dad tugs me back into the bedroom we spent the last night in. The kids mumble goodnight to me again as I'm dragged away, but they feel a little too much like goodbye.

I hope Carl knows he made me feel better, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Apparently, we're on the outskirts of Atlanta now. When I peek outside, I see skyscrapers.

"We're gonna make it, right? To the CDC?"

I won't run outta time?

Dad freezes for a second.

"I'll drag you all the way there myself if I gotta." Dad says, and I know he's dead serious. Outta Hell on hot coals.

We're not stopping for the night. We can't. The engine's rumbling below me when I hop onto the bed.

My Dad grabs my hair-brush from our back pack on the floor, and he settles himself behind me on the covers to do my hair. My Daddy's a Dixon, and that doesn't just mean that he looks out for me and hates when people see him cry. It means that instead of saying I love you, he'll show me I love you. This is what he's doin' right now, by carefully running the brush through my messy hair, petting my baby-hairs into place, and threading his fingers through it all from scalp to end. He's done my hair so many times that I couldn't count, even if I used all my fingers and all my toes. He'd brush it while I sat in the bath when I was littler, and when he was gettin' me ready for school. He ain't that good at it, 'cause his hands are made for tools and guns instead of little-girl-hair, but that don't matter. The I love you matters more.

After that, he helps me into my pyjamas even though I don't need any help at all, and I realize that he's got that same intense look on his face that he did on that night in the quarry. It's not so much flaming, anymore. It more of a sinking, heavy look. I study it as he wraps me up in my button-up dinosaur pyjama shirt. Does he think this is the last time he'll put me to bed?

"Can you sing for me tonight, Daddy?" I ask, suddenly. If he gets to brush my hair and do my buttons, then I want to hear him sing.

He was just about to do up the last button. He hesitates.

"Yeah." He says. Then, he pinches my cheek, and he finishes looping the button. "I'll sing, little chicken. Lay down."

I burry myself in the thick covers. My Dad sets down his crossbow on the side-table, and shirks off his red flannel shirt, leaving him in a white tank-top. It's warm enough in here that he can do that, and I wish it was his lamb-skull tank-top, the one with all the crumbs, and I wish I still had my Raggedy Anne doll, which Uncle Merle found on the side of the road but I loved with all my heart, anyway, and I wish we were home. He kicks off his mud-caked boots. That's the last step. This is it.

Dad clicks off the lamp.

The room turns dark, and he rolls onto his side, facing me, but on top of the covers. I reach out and touch his mole, 'cause it matches mine. Lots of him matches me. His blonde-ish hair, his thin mouth. If time let me, I might've looked a little like him when I grew older. Then, I touch my name, permanently marked into his skin. Another I love you, shown and not spoken. I wonder if this will be all that's left of me if I don't wake up. He watches me, and I must be pretty interesting, 'cause he does it for a while. It's like when he was staring at my baby picture. He cups his giant hand over the side of my head, and I can feel his thumb wagging back and forth. Then, he starts whisper-singing, and I close my eyes and I imagine home. Home, where I belong. Home, where everyone I love, plus me, are all still alive.

I dream of a tyre swing and baby lambs.

I hear retching outside.

It's so dark I can't even tell if my eyes are closed or not, and my Daddy's already half-way on his feet, but it's not me, this time. I was sleepin', just a second ago. He notices, and then he's just confused. Who's throwing up? The lamp clicks on, and ugh, that's real bright. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Dad's pulling his flannel back over his tank-top. He tells me to stay here, baby, and he grabs his crossbow and hurries outside. I crawl to the window.

We're pulled over in an emergency lane. The headlights are beaming a spotlight onto all the commotion.

It's Carl, hunched. He's throwing up over the guard rail, and Lori's crouched next to him.

Why's he throwing up?

My Dad pokes his head back in, hand outstretched, and he says I'm allowed to follow him outside, so I pad alongside him into the night. We reach the small crowd that's gathered around Carl, and I grab onto one of my Dad's belt loops and hide behind him, 'cause I'm scared. There's this terrible moment where I think that Carl is also bitten, or scratched, somehow, but Rick rips Carl's shirt off and rolls up his shorts, and nope, he's totally clean. Lori feels his forehead. It must be hot and wet, 'cause she frowns, but mostly, they're all just really, really confused. Weird, weird, weird.

"What's goin' on?" T-Dog asks, jogging over from one of the cars.

Dale answers, tense. "We're not sure, yet."

Rick searches for me and my Dad amongst the others. "Daryl, bring Harley over here."

We squeeze past some people and into the light. Dad stands me right next to Carl, and now I'm gettin' spun and poked and peered at.

First, me and Carl's skin is the same blotchy white. Weird. Then, our eyes are the same red. Weirder. We've both thrown up. Doesn't make sense.

"They have the same symptoms?" Jacqui asks.

How could we be the same typ'a sick, if he ain't even infected?

"How could this happen?" Glenn's asking for everyone.

"It can't be anything contagious, right?" Dale guesses. "Otherwise, we'd all have it."

Nobody knows what to do or say, 'cause this is the biggest, weirdest mystery in the world. Rick looks back and forth between Carl and me. Lori does, too. My Dad's got a frown on. But then my Daddy's eyes shift off my face and down to my arm, and he gets an idea and it's a weird one, 'cause he pinches the edge of my bandage, and I flinch, and then all in one go — ouch — he rips it off, just like he told me never, ever to do, and it lands on the road, and there's my arm. The cars fill the silence with hums. Am I dreamin'? Am I really still in the RV, sound asleep? My arm— It's not fuzzy or melting or oozing. It's—

"It's healed?" Rick shakes his head, eyes wide, and he grabs my arm like my Dad, to bring it close to his face.

I can't believe it. My arm — It's healthily scabbed over, with not one skin cell outta place.

I gasp, "Daddy, my arm."

"Am I seein' this right?" Dad asks Rick and Lori, suddenly breathin' as if he's been running.

"It— It looks completely healed." Lori breathes.

Several people come forward to take a look at me. Nobody's quite believing it. I'm not—? I'm not dyin'? Is that what this means?

"Have either of you kids eaten the same thing these past few days?" Asks Shane.

It's a weird question, but I have to answer, so I think really hard and so does Carl. The fish fry? The peaches? The—?

"The jerky!" We both shout.

"The—?"

"Who made the jerky?" Dad's lookin' through the crowd; desperate, not breathing, not yet. "Who was it?"

"It was m— I made it." Glenn confesses, but he doesn't know what it is he's confessing to.

"How'd you make it?" Dad asks, and he's pointing, now. So many strange questions, tonight. "Tell me exactly how you made it."

Glenn stammers, and we all listen to him list his jerky recipe like it's the most important thing in the world. "W—Well, I guess I took that meat you bought back — The possum? — And I don't kno— I sliced it, and then I—" Dad barks at him to tell us the exact thickness of the cut. "I guess, like an inch. Then I smoked it, I guess, on a stick over the campfire. I don't know, man. I—"

"You ain't salted it? You ain't cut the fat off?"

Glenn's lost. "No. No, I guess not."

My Daddy, then, drops onto his butt on the tarmac and he does the most confusing thing. He huffs out a big lungful of air, like he's boutta cry, but he doesn't cry. He starts laughing. He starts laughing, hard, like it's all a giant, funny joke that no one has gotten until now. Rick stands and starts laughing too, but his eyes have gone wet, too, and slowly, surely, everyone else starts sighing and laughing and clapping. Even Andrea's smiling! I'm smiling too, because I feel like I'm allowed — Like there ain't some catch. The jerky. Glenn made botched jerky. All those times my stomach was clenching like a sore fist — I weren't dying. All those times I was hurtin', back at the quarry — It weren't nerves. It was the jerky, messin' up my insides, 'cause it weren't made right. Jacqui runs for the food supply and she comes back with a zip-lock bag full of Glenn's jerky, and—

"God!" Everyone cringes all at once.

It's absolutely covered in mold. It's the worst-cured jerky in the entire world.

"Daddy—?"

"It was the fucking jerky?" Glenn's never looked so happy to be an idiot. "It was the jerky?"

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." My Daddy grabs both my cheeks. "You're fine. You got food poisonin', baby."

"I'm not dyin'?" I ask, just so I can hear him say no again, and then I ask it three more times, just to be sure. My Dad kisses my forehead, and then I'm in a big, strong, hug, and I'm alive. I'm alive again! And I can feel my heart-beat in my chest, and I can breathe, and I can do whatever I want, 'cause I'm alive. All that pacing and worrying and breaking of hearts and grave-digging of old memories, just for it to be Glenn's fatty, unsalted jerky. He's coming closer, now, and my Dad pulls away from me just enough to let Glenn give me a little hug.

He almost killed me. I think that makes us friends, now.

"Hoo! Praise Jesus!" T-Dog hoots, and Carol thinks he's bein' silly, 'cause she slaps his shoulder.

"I'm not dyin'." I laugh.

It's like we've won the lottery. All one camp, all happy, together. Rick grabs my Dad's arm and gives him a nod, a nod that says, It's over now, and my Dad nods back. I think to myself, randomly, that this is what family looks like. None of us were born together, and we ain't even know each other before, but we're all cryin' and laughin' together, and we chose each other. We chose to be scared together, and now we get to be happy, together.

"Man, we gotta keep you away from the food for a while!" Shane's teasing Glenn. "I mean, whoo!"

"I love you, Daddy," I'm suddenly admitting to my Dad, under all the happy shouts, while he stares up at me in the light of the truck.

He says somethin' he ain't said in years. "I love you too, Harley."

I get another kiss on the head, and another hug, and maybe, I'm thinking, this could be home. I might get to grow up here, instead.

I'm alive.

"Somebody throw that damn bio-hazard jerky in the trash!"

Author's Note. Hehehe, that last scene. So much fun to write. Stupid Glenn.

There's actually quite a few lines of foreshadowing in all the chapters leading up to this one. We all knew that Harley was probably going to be fine, but I tried using the food poisoning to keep everybody on their toes. Drama. Gotta have it, hehe.

I really hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you for being here! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy issues #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #angst #reader

28 notes · View notes