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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023

No. 14 Water inhalation | No. 20 Blanket | No. 23 Shaking

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic to relationship)

Setting: Alexandria (pre-commonwealth)

Warnings: Injuries/Illness (temperature induced), CPR, Smut

One minute, he was there. The next, he was gone.

You and Daryl had been traipsing through the snow for hours. The storm was supposed to be days away, so when Eugene had evidence of a large storage facility up the mountain that could contain food and weapons for the remaining communities, of course Daryl volunteered to check it out. Which meant you were going by default.

Everything had been going well before the snow started to fall. Daryl had been nonplussed about it and refused to turn back. You had already been hiking for two days. When the white blanket was up to your shins, you could see the lines of worry etched on his face but he said nothing other than you were closer to the facility than to Hilltop. The two of you could take shelter there and wait it out.

That had been a few hours ago. Now, walkers were reaching out of the snow, tripping you up and snapping at your ankles. Some were beginning to freeze but still moving, albeit slowly. Your knife sank into another skull, the hold on your foot falling away. Daryl had trudged ahead to take care of the lone corpse still on its feet. The wind was too hard for his crossbow to be accurate. You couldn’t afford to waste the bolts.

You kicked the rotted hand away from your foot and looked up ahead of you, squinting to see through the near whiteout. “Daryl?” There was no sign of him or the walker. “Daryl!” You called a bit louder, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you over the howling gusts. ‘Where the hell did he go?’ A tendril of worry began to take root in your gut as you dragged your heavy legs toward where you had seen him heading. There was something on the ground and you wondered if he had dropped the walker and moved ahead to scout.

As you drew nearer, your heart stopped. What you were seeing was a hole in the snow…and Daryl’s crossbow teetering on the edge.

“No. No, no, no!” You began peeling off your pack and your weapons, dropping to your knees at the edge of the ice with caution. It hadn’t held Daryl’s weight when combined with that of a walker. Your gloved fingers collected his weapon and tossed it back toward where you left your own. “Daryl!” The water was black, unmoving. It felt like the mountain herself was telling you she had claimed your best friend, leaving you to stare into the void that had taken him from you.

The mountain didn’t seem to know you at all.

You grabbed the flashlight from the side pocket of your pack, holding it in your mouth while you stripped out of your jacket, gloves, and hat. Not giving yourself enough time to think twice, you dove in. The water was a shock to your system, so cold that it burned and you felt like your eyes would freeze in their sockets. But you couldn’t dwell, you couldn’t stop. The clock was ticking for you both.

You spotted the walker first. Daryl’s knife was still in its skull as it sank lower than the beam of your flashlight could reach. You spun in the water, feeling the fatigue and cold seep into your muscles. You couldn’t stay much longer and the knowledge made your chest hurt.

He wasn’t moving when you spotted him, sinking slowly just as the walker had been. Like a corpse. By the time you reached him, you weren’t sure you could still get you both out of the water. But that would never stop you from trying. You hooked an arm around his chest and began the ascent when you realized you couldn’t see the opening you had dove into!

Panic gripped you when your hand met ice. We’re both going to die down here. Thankfully, luck seemed to be on your side for this part at the very least. Just a few feet further, your hand pushed out of the water and into frigid air. You wasted no time in breaching the surface, Daryl’s name on your lips before you could even drag in your first breath. His wet hair was plastered to his face, but there was no time to assess him now. You needed to get you both out.

Getting the archer far enough out of the water to keep him from sliding back in while you climbed out yourself almost took what energy you had left. Somehow, you managed. Fear of the ice not holding the two of you was tingling at the edge of your thoughts but your number one priority laid unmoving beside you.

“Daryl?” You said his name with urgency, brushing away his hair to find his skin the palest you’ve ever seen, lips so blue that they appeared to be purple. “Fuck!” You weren’t that knowledgeable in CPR but you knew the basics and just had to pray it would be enough.

Tilting his head back, you pinched his nose and placed your mouth over his, forcing five rescue breaths into his frozen, starving lungs. Compressions came next, difficult to do adequately when you were shivering so hard that you thought your bones may rattle apart below your skin.

You couldn’t lose Daryl. You had figured that out long ago, back on the Greene farm. Something about his rough and jagged edges pulled you closer to him, not something he had been happy about, mind you. But as the months passed, you watched him soften. Not just toward you, but in general. He was your person, whether or not he ever returned those feelings. You wanted nothing but to see him happy, even if it wasn’t with you. Whatever it took to keep him in your life.

That same sentiment applied now.

“Come on, b-b-breathe for m-me!” Two more breaths and then back to compressions. You felt tears sting your eyes, knowing they would freeze on your face if they fell. “Please, Daryl.” Just as you pinched his nose and leaned in for the next breath, his back arched weakly and water gurgled within his throat.

You were quick to roll him to his side, not sure where you summoned the strength when you felt so incredibly tapped out. When water gushed out of his mouth and allowed for a series of gasping coughs, you let your head fall against his bicep, your free hand rubbing and patting his back.

“That’s it. That’s g-g-good. Just k-keep breathing.” You sat there for a few moments, both of you shaking hard enough to disturb the snow around you. You weren’t sure what to do next. You knew that removing your clothes had to wait since the layer of water in them would help insulate your bodies for at least a few minutes. You needed shelter. And fast. Or when they sent a team up the mountain, it would be to find you and Daryl and put you down instead of gathering supplies. “W-W-We’ve gotta m-move. Are y-y-you with me?”

“Mmmmm’h-h-h-here.”

You allowed yourself only a second to give thanks to whatever deity might exist that you were able to hear his voice. That you were able to bring him back to life. Now, you needed to keep him alive. God, you needed to keep both of you alive. You slipped on your jacket, hat, and gloves and grabbed everything, including the extra weight of his crossbow.

“W-W-We have to g-get out of the w-weather. B-B-Build a fire.” He didn’t answer but you didn’t have time to grow concerned. He rolled deeper onto his side to get his hands underneath himself and began to push himself up. You knew there was no way he could manage without you, so you didn’t even let him try. Every moment was a moment closer to death.

You slipped your hands under each of his arms and helped haul him upright. The archer swayed on his feet before curling inward with a miserable noise you could barely hear. With your small arms around him, you began trekking through the snow with careful steps. There was no way of knowing if you were on solid ground.

By your calculations, it had been about 45 minutes since Daryl had first fallen into the water. You knew nothing about hypothermia, but his skin was still dastardly pale, his lips alarmingly blue. He was shivering more violently than you and had begun to stumble more than he walked. Without the knowledge of proper care, you had no choice but to go by what you had seen in movies.

Shelter was first. You needed to get him out of the elements. He wasn’t much help in navigating, walking whichever way you steered him. If you didn’t find something soon, you yourself would start to deteriorate and you’d both be doomed.

“Y-Y-You awake over there? Got m-m-me hauling y-y-your heavy ass all b-by myself here!” You sighed in relief when you felt him shift to take some of his own weight. Daryl was a fighter, always had been, even before the turn. “Oh, h-h-hey there! I thought you may have been p-p-pussin’ out on m-m-me!”

“F-f-f-fuck y-y-y-you.”

“S-such a ch-ch-charmer, D-D-Dixon!” You goaded, squeezing him as tightly as you could.

You struggled another ten minutes or so before spotting the silhouette of a building. While the thought of being out of the frigid wind was nearly euphoric, there was still the matter of clearing it; making sure it was safe. Daryl was barely on his feet. A walker would kill him before the cold would. You had no choice but to leave him outside.

You directed him into a grove of trees at the corner of the building, trying to find a place where he could be shielded from the merciless gusts. Once you lowered him next to a tree, you took your first good look at this face. His hair was nearly frozen, even his goatee and there appeared to be some ice or snow in his eyelashes. His teeth chattered behind bloodless lips, eyelids drooping. Jesus, he was knocking on death’s door.

“G-G-Gonna ch-check the b-building. S-S-Stay put and D-D-Daryl?” Your fingers were stiff and tingling under your gloves when you grabbed his chin, shaking his head gently to persuade his eyes to focus on you. “S-S-Stay aw-wake.” His shoulders jerked in what you assumed was a grunt. With a tight smile, you placed his crossbow beside him and patted his knee before heading inside.

On the bright side, you had found the storage facility. There was no time to check it for supplies now, though. You turned the knob on the office door, finding it mercifully unlocked, and then pushed it inward. Without entering, you tapped the blade of your knife heavily against the metal frame and waited.

When the noise drew no walkers out of the shadows, you entered, your flashlight beam sputtering. You probably fucked it up in the water. Oh well. The office was small. An old desk, a small bathroom, and a filing cabinet with some boxes stacked in the corner. You could use the boxes to start a small fire and crack the window to help keep the area ventilated. A fire indoors without an actual fireplace was never ideal but you and Daryl need the warmth or the outcome would be much worse than some smoke inhalation.

Satisfied, you dragged your shivering, aching body back outside, pulling the door closed so a walker wouldn’t wander in while you grabbed the archer. He was right where you had left him but your pulse quickened at finding him slumped forward and unmoving.

“D-D-Daryl!” You fell to your knees beside him, foregoing the flashlight so you could grab his shoulders and shake him somewhat roughly. There was no way you could feel for a pulse. You were almost completely numb. Luckily, the condensation of each breath was visible. “W-wake up!” You shook him again and when his blue eyes peeled open to slowly blink at you, you could have cried. “C-C-Come on.” He didn’t argue when you grabbed beneath his arms and pulled. He had almost no strength to help but enough to get him on his feet. The first thing you noticed was his lack of shivering. You weren’t sure why but that didn’t seem like a good sign when you yourself were about to shake right out of your skin.

You grabbed the strap of his crossbow and slung it over your shoulder before starting toward the building. The journey wasn’t far, you stuttering praise and reassurance that you weren’t even sure he could hear. When you finally made it inside, you were able to move with more urgency. You lowered Daryl to sit against the desk. You dumped out one of the drawers of the file cabinet and placed it on the floor, tearing up papers and boxes. It wouldn’t be the most glorious fire and you’d have to almost continuously feed it to keep it going, but it would be warm.

You fished for the matches in your pack, knowing the water probably fucked up Daryl’s lighter. It was hard to find them in only the dying beam of your flashlight but you did nonetheless. It took a few tries to get the flame to catch but finally it started to burn. You reached above it and cracked the window open before adding more cardboard from the boxes. It would burn a little longer than the papers.

Your attention was then on Daryl. You pulled the blankets from your packs. They weren't very thick but they were dry. You spread the first on the floor and tossed the other at the bottom of it. Like you, his clothes were nearly frozen, crackling when you touched them. “Hey.” You said quietly, touching his freezing cheek. He didn’t respond. And he still wasn’t shivering. Your breathing became irregular and you could swear your frozen body began to heat up when you thought of what was coming next.

“Fuck.” You muttered. It felt wrong to not have his permission to remove his clothing, but it was a matter of life and death. You would just have to ask for forgiveness later. The archer was completely lax, making stripping him down quite the task. Your own body seemed to be starting to shut down by the time you dragged him over to the blanket and rolled him onto it. Closing your eyes for the sake of his modesty, you grabbed the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugged them down his legs. With quick movements, you tossed the second blanket over him.

As an afterthought, you pushed the desk from the corner to both barricade the door and to hang the wet clothing across so it could all dry. Removing your own clothes was about the last thing you could handle, staggering as you draped them across the desk with Daryl’s before you found yourself staring down at the covered archer. His color was no better and from where you stood, you could hardly tell if he was breathing.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling the blanket up just enough to slide under it with him. According to the movies, you needed to lie together to warm one another. Not just together but together. With a deep breath, you grabbed his shoulder and rolled him toward you, cradling his head just below your chin. Even with your own chilled skin, you found him to be absolutely freezing. You positioned one leg between his and the other over his hip, trying very hard to ignore certain parts that were touching. With a twist of your upper body, you were able to grab your pack to use as a pillow and then started to rub your hand up and down his arm. “Come on. You’re Daryl fucking Dixon. You kill zombies and ride a motorcycle. I refuse to tell people that some snow and ice took you down.”

The room gradually warmed and you thought just maybe you felt some warmth returning to Daryl’s body. Your own shivering was becoming less and less jarring. Your hand moved from his arm to his back, the flesh cold and slightly damp. When his breath went from shallow and quiet to ragged tremors and he began to violently shake, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done it all wrong. Was he dying? Would you be the one holding him when he took his final breath? Would you be forced to drive the blade that kept him from turning?

“Please, don’t die, Daryl.” You sobbed, holding him tighter while your tears fell onto his wet hair. Your embarrassment at being butt-ass naked and pressed against your best friend was forgotten, every thought consumed by grief as if he were already gone. “There’s so much I need to tell you. You can’t die until I do.” Without thought, you pressed your lips to his forehead and pulled him close enough to feel his cool breath against your neck, your vision graying at the edges. “You can’t die.” You whispered, finally giving in to the pull of exhaustion.

The fire had long ago burned out, sunlight driving away the shadows behind your eyelids. When you blinked open your eyes, you could see the snow still lazily falling. You felt panic grip your heart. You propped yourself up on your forearm and peered down at Daryl, almost crying with relief. Some color had returned, his lips pale but no longer blue. His skin had pinkened, gradually returning to its natural tan. You dropped your forehead against his temple.

“Oh, thank god.” He was breathing deeply and evenly, his body free of tremors. Only resting. You felt the chill of the room sweep beneath the blanket from where you had moved, and your eyes widened. “Shit, the fire.” You made to get up but an arm snaked around your waist and held you. “Daryl?”

“Warm.” He murmured against your collarbone.

“I can get the fire going and we can get dressed. I had to get us warm. I had to get you warm. I’m so sor—”

Daryl hummed and only tightened his hold. “Warm now.”

Your heart pounded a tattoo into your ribs, your blood rushing so loudly in your ears that you wondered if he could hear it. Slowly, hesitantly, you rested your head back on your bag.

“Ya cold?”

You hadn’t even realized you were trembling but the answer to his question was a quiet “no, I’m okay.”

“Yer shakin’.”

“Yeah.” You watched as he tilted his head back to catch your gaze. He looked tired but otherwise, his color was steadily returning and his skin felt like fire against your own. Could it be a fever? “You…um… you’re really warm.”

He hummed, nuzzling his nose against your lower jaw. “What’d ya wanna tell me?” He rasped. You felt the tone of it straight down to the apex of your thighs. You tried to press them together, forgetting his leg was caught in between.

“Tell…,” you cleared your throat, “tell you?” You managed to squeak out. When you felt his lips press against your pulse, you stopped breathing, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between your naked bodies. And the press of his arousal against your stomach.

“Mmhmm. Las’ night. Y’said I couldn’ die ‘til ya told me.” He continued to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, slowly ensuring your ability to summon any coherent thought would be inaccessible.

“I…did.” You tilted your head back, granting him access to the full canvas of your throat. Daryl moved up onto his forearm, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

“Well?”

You lowered your head, causing him to move back but not much. He kept his face centimeters from yours, your lips almost touching.

“Well what?” You kept your eyes on his mouth, your breath stuttering when he dragged his tongue over his lower lip. The hand on the back of your neck came around to grasp your chin, your eyes flickering up to find his already looking back. That mesmerizing blue was nearly lost to his dilated pupils. His gaze was so intense that you tried to look away but his gentle grip remained, keeping you there. His head tilted slightly, lips whispering against your own.

“I didn’ die.”

Your mouth crashed into his, teeth clicking and tongues dancing. It wasn’t at all what you imagined but you had both come so close to death only hours ago. All that pent up anxiety and fear boiling to the surface to present itself as desire and passion.

You gasped when he used his weight to push you onto your back, settling himself between your thighs with nothing between his cock and your needy pussy. If you could think straight, you’d be embarrassed of how wet you were.

When he pulled away to look down at you, you whined at the loss of him, chasing his lips but coming to a halt when he wrapped a large hand around your throat, effectively rendering you immobile.

“Tell me.”

“I…” You felt too open, too vulnerable. What if you spilled your heart, held it out to him, and he rejected you. A voice in your brain told you to consider that you were currently pinned under his naked body but your fear of losing him— of scaring him away— quickly silenced it. “Daryl—“

“Tell me this ain’t whatcha want n’ it stops.”

Gone was the lust driven archer, replaced by soft, kind eyes that were searching your own. You laid a hand over the one on your neck, then moved it to trace the line of his jaw.

“It’d be a lie.” You offered quietly. “I’ve wanted this since the farm. Since you called me a ‘oompa loompa with tits.’” The corner of his mouth ticked upward for the briefest of moments. “I’ve wanted you.” He kissed you again, slower this time, a slow dance of lips and tongues that left you breathless when he pulled away.

You felt the tip of him nudge against your entrance and pulled your legs up to anchor your thighs over his hips. Daryl pushed into you slowly, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep from groaning. He wanted too badly to hear the sound you were making. Your small hands were on his back, fingernails dragging over soft flesh and raised scars to leave red marks in their wake.

By the time his hips pressed flat against you, his cock nestled inside your warmth, you were both panting. He started slow, a steady push and pull that had you arching into him, reveling in the feel of the movement inside you. It was all you thought it would be when you pictured this while alone with your thoughts of him. All that and more. He was gentle, attentive. He listened to the hitches in your breaths and the quiet moans, getting to know your body and what you liked.

Daryl placed a hand on either side of your head and pushed himself up, dipping his head to your chest to map the flesh with his lips. His facial hair rubbed against your skin with a delicious scrape, the minute pain just enough to cause your hips to buck underneath him. You felt him smile around the nipple between his teeth.

“Daryl.” You breathed his name while your petite fingers wrapped around his shoulders and held tight. There was a familiar burn in your lower stomach, the knot pulling tighter and tighter with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You whined, feeling your body begin to buzz as your orgasm crept closer. You wanted him closer, wanted to feel more of him. It would never be close enough. “Please. Please, please, please.” Tears gathered on your lashes, your head shaking.

“Sshh. I gotcha.” The archer grunted, moving faster to chase his own release. When you pulled at him, he was more than willing to comply, lowering to his forearms so you could catch his mouth. His hand inched down your body, wedging between to press his thumb against your swollen clit. You pulled your mouth away from his and arched into him. Two or three tight circles was all it took for you to fall apart.

“Daryl!” You cried, holding tightly to him as wave after wave crested, your body spasming. “I love you.” You whispered against his ear, your eyes closed and brain shrouded in a blissful fog. You felt his movements stutter before stopping completely, his warmth spilling into you. His hips rolled lazily a few more times before you felt more of his weight come down on you. It was a little hard to breathe but you’d be fuck if you’d complain.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Daryl pulled out of you slowly and rolled to your side, adjusting the blanket and pulling you into his arms. You were still processing how this all happened. Last night, you were both frozen and you were begging him not to die. Now, you were both sweaty and sticky and clinging to one another after doing something you never thought you’d get to do.

And that’s when doubt began to creep in. What did this mean? Did he just take an opening when he saw one? Did he actually want you? He hadn’t said much aside from what he needed to in order to get your permission. And then you had— ‘oh my god’ — you said you loved him.

“Yer thinkin’ real loud righ’ now.” His raspy voice startled you enough to flinch.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You really had said enough, hadn’t you?

“Did ya mean it?” Daryl shifted to lie on his side, resting his head on one end of your pack while you did the same on the other end. It suddenly felt like there were miles between you.

“Yeah.” You whispered, keeping your eyes on where your hand lay in the space between your bodies. “Yeah, I did. I do.” With a deep breath, you continued, already resigned to the inevitable. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Ya think I don’ feel the same?”

When you lifted your eyes, the incredulous expression on his face perplexed the hell out of you. “Wait… do you?”

“Do ya even hafta ask?” He chuckled and pulled you close again, burying his face in your hair. “From the start, crazy girl.” You laughed, you weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. Daryl was a man of action, never so much for words. And thinking about it now, he really had shown you over and over.

“What now then?” You absently traced shapes onto the left side of his chest, giggling when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Still snowin’. Guess I need ta make sure yer nice n’ warm ‘til we can make our way home.”

Laughter erupted out of you as the blanket was pulled over your heads and he rolled you onto your back again, kissing and nibbling at any piece of skin he could manage.

And you didn’t worry about the cold anymore.

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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imagine-silk · 7 months

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Hello, I just discovered your blog. I love the way you write Fallout. Could I ask for companions reactions to seeing Sole after them being gone for a long time? As in they thought something happened to Sole and they grew anxious. Maybe some of them tried searching for them without a luck. Reunion if romanced would be that much more emotional.

》I kept them all platonic as a personal preference. Like a high emotional response that's not inherently romantic.

【Cait】 "What in the ever living fuck happened?" She screamed. It wasn't fully anger though, it was complete and utter hysteria. They were gone, just left and there was no rhythm or reason, not that she knew. Everyone thought she was going to slip into who she was before Sole but she didn't. She was a bit more testy but at the end of the day she helped and kept it together. When they came back she pushed through the crowd, shoving actually. They all thought they were going to see a touching reunion and they were right. She punched them. It was so confusing and sudden but at the end she pulled Sole up and held them tight.

【Codsworth】 He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, he was willing to wait another two hundred years. He didn't want to but he was ready. The second Sole came back he floated up as fast as he could and gave them a teary greeting, "Welcome home, sir/mum. I... I've kept everything in order so we should get you cleaned up. I'm sure you're tired." When Sole brings him into a hug he cries.

【Curie】 It was, is, very hard on her; the sudden disappearance of a friend and integral part of the community. What she had left was their guidance of following her work and finding fulfillment in it. So she didn't dwell on it, it made her uncomfortable to do so. Then Sole came back and she couldn't stop crying, it ran like a river and broke like a dam. She tried to put it back but she couldn't. Sole held her and hummed in her ear, "It's okay to let it out."

【Danse】 When Sole disappeared he shut off from the world like he did after he found out he was a synth. The first week wasn't bad, Sole left periodically and they always came back. After that it hit him hard. There was nothing to do but wait for them to come back, staying home more and more and more. When Sole showed up he froze as they approached him like he was ready to bolt, even though he would never. The second they touched he fell into their arms.

【Deacon】 He would never admit he looked, and when he did no one believed him because the way he said it, just the way he wanted it. Keeping on was his motto. So he changed his face and hid again, this time in plan sight. As far as anyone knew, Deacon was gone, disappeared like Sole did. When Sole came back to Sanctuary he wanted to scream, but he just stood in the crowd. They came to him later and caressed his face, right where the lines were from the surgery. They smiled at him and all he could do is admit, "Heya, Sole."

【Dogmeat】 There was no way to follow, he tried. He went looking everywhere, going all around the Commonwealth twice over and found nothing. So he went back to Sanctuary and waited. He was Hachikō. However, Hachikō's master never came back. Dogmeat spotted them kneel for him and pushed them over, barking and licking happily.

【Hancock】 Of course he was upset, more upset than anyone would believe, but life went on and he had people to take care of. If he had never met Sole he would have dropped into a despair that would be impossible to know he would get out of, but he was on stable ground to carry on, as hard as it was. That foundation broke when he saw them. His legs acted by themselves and he threw him and Sole to the ground. What he did after was intentional, kissing all over their face.

【MacCready】 Life goes on, right? The Commonwealth was not a kind place so he just told himself there was no proof they were dead so they were alive. As simple as that. He knew it was Sole when he saw them, he wasn't in the business of seeing ghosts. The cold breeze felt strangely warm, and he dropped his gun to run. Run to a hard stop and spun around so they didn't fall. The Commonwealth wasn't a kind place so this was a blessing.

【Nick】 It was hard to look for someone with a cold trail, every lead was a dead end. He knew Sole was going to leave him alone one day, he just thought he'd be there for it, to maybe hold their hand while they slipped away. But that was robbed from him and he took his time grieving. So when they showed again he was elated and pulled them in, "Welcome back, partner." Tangling his hand in their hair and kissing the top of their head.

【Piper】 There is no universe where she doesn't look for Sole, and very little of them involves her actually finding them. Her life feels kind of empty without them. It's by the grace of Nat's existence that she keeps afloat. She starts drinking on and off and smoking a lot more. So when Sole comes back she falls apart, holding them so tight she might as well have dragged them inside of her.

【Preston】 To say he grieved was to say the sun was bright; it was true but no one could imagine how hot and harsh it really was, the destruction. Nothing ever seemed to go right. Then they came back and it was overwhelming. The joy was intoxicating but not the only thing. The confusion was eating him, 'why did they leave' he thought. The relief hugged him, that everything was okay and was going to be okay. But the biggest one was the anger. Where were they? Why did they just leave? How could they leave him after everything they'd been through, after what they knew about him? He goes home and breaks down when they come to him, spilling all of what he had.

【X6-88】 He didn't know why Sole left but he didn't allow himself to be upset. That didn't work of course. He just kept himself busy and working to distract himself but being helpful always reminded him of Sole. So when he saw they were back he reigned himself and walked up. He clasped their shoulder and welcomed them back. They smiled as bright as the sun and he pulled them into a hug so they couldn't see him break.

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #gender neutral reader #companions react #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #deacon fo4 #dogmeat #fallout hancock #maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88

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solar-eclipses-stuff · 1 year

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with the cursed ruler Y/N

Character: Qin Shi Huang

To do this, I created the empire of the Harlio De Term, no questions needed, everything here is based on my distorted imagination

Let's say this empire is considered cursed, and the ruler is not a simple man, but a ruthless demon whose head is crowned with spikes from which blood flows

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

Debt. Power. You do what you're told to do. The world is something that rests on your palms, and something that you will have to cope with. You have a straight back and a cold heart. Innate or nurtured in you? You didn't know for sure.. A country. The empire for which you are responsible, people who believe in you, but is it possible to save these lives when the whole world is against you.

You are the Empress, your cold hands kept warm in the hearts of people who believed in you

For many years you can't join an alliance with other countries, just because of the time when it's a curse over your house.

You were not angry or cruel, but you need to make sacrifices for more

You were able to learn to do without help and support, although you still think that it could contribute to the rapid development of the empire

Everyone considers it cursed because of the thorn valley that protects its walls. They think there is nothing here but tears and grief

Except for one emperor Qin Shi Huang, he did not have a special vision of the world (as you thought at the time), but for some reason he wanted to come to conclude a contract

You didn't mind because guests haven't been taken to your region for a long time

You watched a carriage drive into your city and everything was quite official

In the reception hall there was a large table with various treats, starting with the spotted duck and ending with desserts

You were sitting across the table, and the above-mentioned ruler was opposite you

"Hao! So you are the ruler of the Thorn Valley" You knew that the people call your homeland that way, so the answer did not take long to wait "Hello, thorn valley is not the correct name" You said "Empire Harlio De Term is the right name" Your voice was not loud but in the ears of the listeners it was louder than anything that could make a sound

"Amazing! You are so devoted to your country, am I right? "you are thinking, "The board is a duty. Duty to the people"

Then everything went without incident, you signed a pact on the commonwealth

Emperor Qin Shi Huang often visited you, watched everything he could and even tried to challenge you to a fight

Yes, perhaps they were right, the symbol of your empire was a thicket with sharp thorns

You finally saw something outside the walls and it was great, the smell, the wind and even the plant were as if different

Soon your relationship turned into something more interesting

Light and gentle kisses, flirting and much more (😏)

You didn't have an example, yes, of course you saw your mother and father, but they never showed feelings for each other

It seemed to you that I love him enough for two, but you knew that two people needed to work for a relationship and you started giving him gifts: bracelets made of gold with amethysts, rings, etc.

He also gave gifts of extraordinary beauty, and those hot nights that you spent together

All this was something new for you and this love made you melt, your hands became warm, and rosy cheeks appeared on your face

You have blossomed and your country is with you instead

And one day he called you to the garden, it was incredibly beautiful there, you liked every flower that you saw so

And at the end you saw him, he was even more beautiful than he was, you couldn't hide the excitement in your soul

You have been by his side all this time and now he is kneeling in front of you and asking you to become him forever

Then everything depended only on you whether you say "Yes" Or "No"

Your soul wanted it with all your heart and you agreed. Just one word and he was already in your arms, then he gave you the hottest and most loving kiss in the world, he was gentle and passionate at the same time

Then you were able to know the power of the feeling that you called love

#record of ragnarok #shumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok Qin Shi Huang #qin shi huang #ror qin shi huang #qin shi huang x reader

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zirawrites · 1 year

Note

What do you think would be each Romanced!Companions + Gage biggest parenting screw up when it comes to raising Synth Shaun? Nothing traumatic, just those funny cringy “Yeah I screwed up” moments.

Cait:

As someone who grew up with severely abusive parents, Cait is an awkward mixture of “fun mom” and overbearing guardian

She spoils Shaun with toys and gadgets she finds on trips

However, she isn’t sure how to discipline him; fearing she’ll come off too much like her own folks, but also afraid if Shaun doesn’t learn any lessons that he’ll become prey in the Commonwealth

Since Cait realizes she doesn’t have it in her to ever punish Shaun, she decides to toughen him up and teach him to fight. Even though he looks ridiculous, Cait pads Shaun up with plenty of protective gear before teaching him to spar.

As she’s explaining how to block, Shaun mishears and thinks Cait asked him to punch. He hits her directly in the eye. She doubles over as he bursts into tears apologizing.

But Cait isn’t upset; she’s laughing. He gave her a black eye that’d make any veteran of the Combat Zone proud.

Cait and Shaun agree to tell Sole that Cait got it in a skirmish with raiders.

Next time Cait and Shaun step in the ring, Shaun suggests she wear protective gear. Cait wasn’t laughing then.

Codsworth (synth):

Shaun falls and scrapes his knee? Codsworth is spooling his entire leg in gauze. Shaun gets stung by an insect? Codsworth is holding him down to administer three stimpacks. Shaun and MacCready have a burping contest? Codsworth is making up a diet plan for Shaun to combat possible indigestion.

He’s the definition of a helicopter mom

“I waited over 200 years for your return, young master. I’m not about to lose you to the common cold!”

Sole finally draws the line when Codsworth wouldn’t let Shaun play in a light drizzle, claiming it was the “gateway to a full-blown radstorm”.

Unless one of Shaun’s limbs are literally hanging off his body, Codsworth is now only allowed to administer light first aid.

Even if he really wants to force Shaun on bedrest after falling off his bike.

Curie:

Curie is constantly assuring Shaun that knowledge is just as important as strength when navigating the Commonwealth

It’s hard for Shaun to believe when he hangs around the likes of Cait and MacCready all day

“Just because Monsieur MacCready lived in a cave does not mean you need to act like you do, too.”

Sometimes she takes his education too seriously. Curie makes up tests and lesson plans on everything from calculus to marine science.

Curie finally admits she is going too far when she unironically asked Shaun to name every pre-war state capitol.

To let him get silly revenge, Curie allows Shaun to make his own pop quiz for her to take. It’s filled with questions like “who was the most popular villain in Grognak the Barbarian?” and “what is my favorite flavor of Nuka Cola?”

She answers them all correctly :)

Danse:

Danse knows the best soldier is one who is prepared. That’s why -- against Sole’s absolute disagreement -- he takes Shaun on a routine patrol with other Brotherhood members.

Danse turned his back for just a moment, and Shaun slipped over debris and slid down a startlingly steep hill.

Danse literally shrieked as he watched Shaun’s little head disappear down the incline.

He went charging after Shaun on instinct, slipping on the same debris and falling flat on his ass.

When he reached the bottom of the hill, he quickly checked Shaun for injuries. When it was clear the boy was unharmed, Danse shook his head, face red with embarrassment.

“Lets head back to the Prydwyn,” he mumbled. “Don’t tell your father/mother about this. Now hurry. Sole packed us a really nice lunch.”

Deacon

Deacon had always wanted to be a father. When he was married to Barbara, he read every pre-war parenting book he could find.

However, the sterile pages of “make sure to speak gently but firmly” and “check your baby has reached certain developmental milestones per year” never covered what to do when you adopt the synth child of an Institute genius.

Shaun was constantly building (and blowing up) contraptions. Wiring strange blinking inventions. Asking Deacon to find textbooks on physiology and number theory.

Deacon’s biggest fault was giving into every whimsical request Shaun made of him. He was the first one to volunteer for Shaun’s whacky science experiments. Filled Shaun’s bookshelves with salvage from pre-war classrooms and hospitals. Let Shaun paint his face with weird ink the kid claimed would turn him invisible.

(The paint didn’t work. Deacon broke out in hives.)

He could just never tell the boy no. And he never would. Shaun was the son he always wanted.

Gage:

“Well shit, boy. Of course you got hurt. What’dya think would happen playing on a scrapheap?”

Gage was a loving parent, but also a blunt one. He was just as quick to point out Shaun’s strengths as he was the kid’s youthful stupidity.

Gage called it “tough love”. Sole said it was “asshole advice”.

He just didn’t want Shaun growing up in a way that wouldn’t teach him to defend himself. Even if that defense was against sarcasm.

Shaun is jumping on the couch when Gage enters his room, startling him. In Shaun’s panic, he falls to the floor and twists his ankle.

“Ya can’t jump on the damn furniture and not expect to --” Gage had barely started his lecture when Shaun burst into tears. The boy started babbling about always being a disappointment and never doing anything right.

Gage fell to his knees next to Shaun, his own face twisted in pain.

“No, no! Shaun, that ain’t what I meant, son. You’re smart and creative and all that wonderful shit. Please don’t cry! Here...” Gage took off the armor over his torso and flexed his arm. “Punch me hard as you can. Then we’re even.”

Shaun’s sobs turned to sniveled giggling. “Are you trying to get me to stop crying before dad/mom finds out? Afraid we’re gonna get grounded?”

Gage laughed heartily. What had he been thinking?! Shaun was his son, not a little brother who needed to feel equal.

“Your damn right,” Gage lied, smiling. “‘Cause if Sole won’t let us read past bedtime after this I’m blame’n you, kiddo.”

Hancock

Don’t judge Hancock’s parenting skills. Not many could raise a boy in a neighborhood known for its lack of goodness. Despite its name.

He was a hands-off parent. Hancock observed Shaun from afar, of course. But he wanted Shaun to make his own mistakes. Find his passions without any authority nudging him in a certain direction.

That all changed when he caught Shaun smoking a cigarette in his room. Hancock acted like the kid was snorting buffout.

“We raised you better than this, Shaun!” Hancock snatched the cigarette from Shaun’s mouth and stomped on it. “This stuff’ll kill you! You think smoking is cool? You wanna impress the ladies? Get a good head on your shoulders. Do something with your life. That’s how you get status. Not...” He gestured exasperatedly around them. “...drugs!”

Shaun bust out laughing. “You gave me a pack last night, Hancock. When you and dad/mom came back from the Third Rail. You were going on about me finally being a man and if I was going to do something reckless might as well do it in the house.”

Hancock was speechless.

“And you were, like, totally high,” Shaun added.

[Hancock disapproves... of himself]

MacCready:

MacCready is a family man. He loves Shaun like his own flesh-and-blood.

He’d do anything for the kid. Storm the Glowing Sea. Infiltrate an Institute 2.0. Join the damn Brotherhood of Steel if needed.

And MacCready shows it. He is the one who teaches Shaun to shoot his first gun, ride a bike and change the radio station by shooting a rubber band.

Which is why it is shocking every time........ MacCready calls Shaun by the wrong name.

“Hey Duncan! Shoot, I mean Dogmeat! Darn it. Codsworth! Um, no. Shaun!”

It’s a classic dad move to call your kid the dog’s name.

It’s an advanced dad move to call your kid after your partner’s Mr. Handy.

Shaun is always flustered but laughing. “Did you call me every person’s name in this house but my own?”

“Can it. And, um, please bring me a rubber band so I can change the station.”

Preston:

Preston was happy to teach Shaun to shoot a gun or repair a generator. There were plenty of mundane tasks and skills that needed mastered to survive in the Commonwealth.

It was the growing-up talks Preston needed to have with him that were the hardest.

He rather help Shaun scrub the entire Castle with a toothbrush than explain where babies come from.

Preston wasn’t some delicate wallflower. He hadn’t survived so long in the Commonwealth by being overly-sensitive.

But there was something about answering questions about bodily functions and puberty that twisted his stomach.

“Well, you see Shaun...” Preston coughed. “When a mommy and a... you know, when a...”

Shaun blinked. “When a mommy and a who do what?”

“Can’t you just ask Sole?”

Piper

The woman who profits off her kid sister’s labor is not the most ethical of mothers.

Piper lets Shaun get away with far more than he should, and pushes him further than he sometimes wants to go.

She doesn’t understand why Sole won’t let him get a part-time job at the water treatment plant.

“When I was his age I was cleaning chimneys and bartering with caravans!”

Piper encourages Shaun to work hard, and so when Sole deems most jobs in Diamond City too dangerous, she lets him sell papers with Nat.

Unfortunately, Shaun is garbage at it. He’s more occupied with pointing out Piper’s typos than actually advertising.

Piper eventually drops the whole “child labor” thing and allows him to be more of a kid. She knows he deserves a break after all he’s been through.

Nick:

As someone who has encountered many cases of missing children, Nick can be a little overbearing.

He’s adamant about enforcing curfew and knowing exactly which friends Shaun hangs out with.

However, he struggles to understand Shaun’s youthful desire to be “normal”

“One of your parents is a gen-2 synth detective and the other is a pre-war popsicle, Shaun. You were never going to be boring, that’s for sure.”

He really tries to make Shaun feel like a regular kid. Nick introduces him to crime noir comics and a respectable wardrobe. Even if Shaun feels like an outsider, the kid has developed excellent taste.

X6-88

Coursers were designed for killing. Not parenthood.

X6 tries his best to be a sensitive father. He listens to Shaun’s problems and, only when asked, offers solutions.

He even researches games Shaun might like to play, just so they could experience some traditional pre-war father-son bonding.

However, Sole banned sports in the house. An errant baseball through a window could be blamed for that.

X6′s biggest mistake was trying to impress Shaun. He didn’t realize Shaun loved him unconditionally. Coursers only knew the value of usefulness. If he wasn’t actively showing his worth as a father, he felt like he was failing.

Shaun finally begs X6 to stop his constant posturing. “I don’t love you because you give me toys and take me on cool trips,” Shaun explained. “I love you because you’re my dad.”

X6 felt like Father of Shaun was a better title than even Father of the Institute.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #i forgot this was romanced for a sec and added codsworth so this'll be him as a synth #which is still one of my favorite AUs and im dying to write it #each reaction got more crack the harder my sleeping pills hit #hancock #danse #maccready #nick valentine #fallout 4 piper #fallout 4 cait #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 deacon #codsworth #fallout 4 gage #x6-88 #preston garvey #babbiebooc

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strawberryamanita · 1 month

Text

Y'all I'm sorry but this is making me freak the fuck out

I know this is gonna probably cause people to call me a terrible person, but I'm just gonna risk it anyhow because this is getting really scary.

If you are a USAmerican,

Please vote for Biden this year.

I am 1000% aware that the genocide in Gaza is being perpetuated by Biden's administration. It's not good at all. I don't like the guy either, and like every President the US has ever had, he will burn in Hell, guaranteed.

But if we don't vote, then Trump is gonna win. This sounds rhetorical, but I ask genuinely: do you think Trump is gonna stop the genocide?

Has Trump ever shown that he cares about a single human being besides himself? The level of misanthropy that idiot is on is remarkable. I personally cannot see him slowing the flow of genocide in any direction; if anything, he might redouble the effort.

I think it was Warren who is tryna warn people that if Trump gets elected again, he'll never leave. I think back to a time during his first term where he said there might one day be a "forever President", and that makes me sick to my fucking stomach. That's not a presidency, that's a monarchy or a dictatorship. That would be the de-facto end of having a say in who's in control until he finally fucking dies -- and not even then, because then the mantle will be passed down to one of his children.

I know the US shouldn't exist in the first place. I am 100% aware of that. They say that empires fall after 250 years, and the US is gonna be 248 years old in July. But unfortunately, it exists right now, and it's full of people who will not survive another four years of Trump.

Again -- I will say it as many times as I need to -- I don't like Biden. I don't like him. He's done some beneficial things, but using his executive powers to speed up a genocide tips the scale completely over back towards hating him.

But Biden will step down when his term is done. I know the bar is in the fucking Mariana Trench, but for the love of God I do not wanna be under Trump for even a minute more. I hate Biden, but I hate Trump more, and that is fueling me, personally, to show up to vote.

At the end of the day, the problem is systemic. Every single authority over the US, since even before Washington, has only cared about hurting people of color and churning up the earth to make money. Our taxes could help improve the lives of US civilians, but instead they are funneled into the trillion-dollar War Machine aimed in every direction, including the US itself. The US commonwealth doesn't matter to the US government. We are human livestock who generate revenue; no matter how many changes of hands our money makes for hopes of a better cause inside the US, every last penny will find its way back into the War Machine or under the dirty ass of a billionaire who should be tarred and feathered in oil and their own paper money.

With all that said. There are US citizens who are enthusiastically pro-Biden right now, and siding with them might just keep us from living in Trump Hell all over again. The bigots have gotten too proud around here, and it makes my blood run cold. My mother doesn't show enthusiasm for ANYTHING the way she shows it for her freedom to hate people loudly and proudly. It makes her come ALIVE. And I know I'm not the only one who's been subjected to this kind of horror show for the last 9 years. Every state of mind curated by the US is a cult, and there is no escape outside of moving away.

Please. Vote. For Biden.

#please vote #vote blue #vote biden #vote democrat #blue no matter who #vote blue no matter who #biden 2024 #biden harris 2024

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everydayyoulovemeless · 10 months

Text

How The Fo4 Companions (+Maxson and Tinker Tom) Are With Synth!Shaun

➼ Word Count » 0.9k ➼ Warnings » None

MacCready's really good with him! You can always find him outside showing him little tricks on how to stay hidden or just simply playing tag. He's great with kids in general and Shaun is going to love when he comes over, especially since he's fairly laid back and childish himself when it comes to most things.

Nick likes to sit out on the porch and listen to Shaun ramble on about his day. He thinks he's really intelligent for the age he appears to be and doesn't mind answering any questions the kid might have, especially if they're about the Commonwealth or his job.

Cait's kinda scared of Shaun. She's worried that parts of her personality will rub off on the kid and refuses to go near him. If you asked her to babysit she would, she'd just be distant and would only really give him one-worded responses.

Danse treats him like he's in the Boy Scouts. He'll take him camping and show him how to tie knots and start fires and all that. He's usually not sure what to say to him so he's glad Shaun has the child-like charm and curiosity that makes it easier to talk to.

Preston's the kind of guy who'd play dead if a kid pretended to shoot him. He loves playing silly little games with him. One of his favorite things to do is to pick him up and pretend to drop him. He'd also 100% play cops and robbers with him, or as they like to call it, Minutemen and raiders.

Codsworth still feels upset about what happened with the original, but it doesn't stop him from treating Shaun any differently than he would've before. He's constantly there to dote on him and make sure he follows some form of sanitation. He also gives him small chores to do around whatever settlement he's in to help keep him from being bored.

Piper likes to take him and Nat to go explore the Commonwealth. She never takes them anywhere dangerous, they mostly just walk around Diamond City or Concord after it's been cleared out. Piper really doesn't like sitting in one place and thinks that it's a lot more fun to go snooping around the surrounding areas. She even teaches him how to direct the conversation in a way that gives you the information you want.

Curie's better with babies and hasn't spoken to a ton of kids in her life so she'll probably ask him more questions than he will to her. She'll teach him ethical ways to study and investigate things if he ever wanted to, and she's very careful about him not getting hurt. She and Codsworth are especially good caretakers when they're watching him together.

Please don't leave Shaun with Strong. He'll just insult him for being small and weak and encourage him to eat human flesh. There's nothing that could go right with this. And PLEASE don't tell Strong that he's a synth, if he hears he's a robot, he might attack him.

You're gonna have to keep an eye on Hancock cause he doesn't interact with kids very often. He'll ask if he wants to try some of the chems he's got on him to see which ones are his favorite or teach him all the best places to stab someone. The one thing you can trust with them being together is that Hancock won't let any harm come his way.

Deacon loves Shaun. He's the type of guy who still does the 'got your nose' thing. He'll hang him upside down, tell him bad jokes, and would steal one of those funny Minutemen hats for him. He even helps him build a fort in your living room.

X6-88 isn't too sure how to feel about being around the younger clone of his former boss. He's taken care of this same kid before, but he felt it was different because he knew that he was only meant to be a part of an experiment of sorts, not to be genuinely raised. He'll still do what you ask and look after Shaun, and he'll try his hardest to get along with him, however, he'll still come off as closed off and cold.

Dogmeat usually just follows him around and defends him from any mole rats that might pop up randomly from the ground. They're hardly ever apart from one another.

Old Longfellow is actually really good with him. It's like the kid he never got to raise and he's genuinely so happy that you asked him to watch him. He'll take him hunting and fishing, play darts with him in the bar, and makes sure that he doesn't touch any alcohol while he's there. (well maybe a sip but he won't tell you that)

Gage isn't sure what you expect him to do so he just sits up in the Fizztop Grille with him and lets him run around semi-unsupervised. He does try to keep him away from all the other raiders, and will maybe take him out on some of the rides, but other than that, he won't do much.

It's best to try and avoid the whole, 'my-kid-is-a-synth' thing because Maxson will want him killed if he finds out. Other than that though, he'll show him around the Prydwen and let him fly around in a Vertibird for a little bit before grouping him in with the other squires while he gets back to work waiting for you to come pick him up again.

He and Tinker Tom are always playing hide and seek, although, it's more like them hiding under a counter to avoid a possible alien invasion because Tom had told him some crazy story of his and it ended up going haywire and they're both now panicking behind furniture.

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rosemaryreaper · 2 months

Text

Where was Nick when Hancock evacuated the Diamond City ghouls to Goodneighbor?

Back in September, I started working on a fic that covered exactly that…then I tossed it aside because I thought it was bad. But now I actually want to finish it. It’s a short Nick POV fic that follows the three days before McDonough passes the Anti-Ghoul decree. Also featured are Ellie, Security Captain Lennie Sullivan, and a still human Hancock. Here’s a snippet from Chapter 2, which is the night before everything goes to hell.

* * * *

In the end, there was nothing to be done but wait. Ellie returned with more than enough documents to fit the bill, and after another round through the line, the guard let him through with minimal hostility. When he tried to subtly linger to keep an eye on things, Security threatened to shoot him for loitering, so there was no choice but to return to the office. Lennie never returned. Neither did many of the ghouls.

Convincing his old circuit board of a brain to focus on work after that morning was difficult, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had a half dozen interconnected missing persons cases on his desk. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to help anyone, ghoul or missing girl, so the least they could do was be productive with the spare time. He got Ellie to bring out what she had dubbed “the conspiracy board”—a big map of the Commonwealth they had pinned to a corkboard—and the two of them spent the afternoon moving around colored pins and strings, trying to work out which route the traffickers were using to smuggle these girls around the state.

“Think Bunker Hill could be a stopover?” Ellie asked, tapping her fingernail on a red circle to the northeast.

“They’d have to go through Goodneighbor first,” Nick said.

“I don’t doubt it. Sounds like the sort of business Vic’s gang would get mixed up in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s responsible for this whole horrible trade.”

“Still could be a third party. Or a bit of both. We won’t know till we learn more.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t be surprised either.” He added another pin to the board. “If they’re using Bunker Hill, then they aren’t the only party stashing that particular kind of cargo there overnight. I have a contact I can talk to, see if his guys have noticed any odd goings on.”

“Sounds promising,” Ellie said.

“Let’s hope so. This is one trail I absolutely do not want to leave to get cold.”

Arturo was the neighborhood tourist. Nick would have to catch him alone sometime soon; ask him to get a message through to Deacon and his crew. If anyone was an expert on smuggling people through the Commonwealth undetected, it was the Railroad.

The door screeched open, and a choked sob tumbled through its frame. Violet shuffled in, fully weeping within Riley’s embrace. To her, Riley said, “Here, sweetheart, let’s just sit down for a spell, okay?” To the rest of the room, she said, “I’m going to fucking kill someone.”

“Oh, Violet.” Ellie rushed to grab a blanket from the bedroom. “Here, have a seat, honey.” While Riley lowered Violet into the cushioned chair, Ellie wrapped the blanket around the poor ghoul.

Jax stumbled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and in their undershirt, which had rolled up to expose their bandages. “Vi? What happened?”

Riley’s brows shot up. “What the hell happened to you?”

“New exercise regime,” Jax said.

“Jesus Christ,” Riley said. “Somebody jumped you.”

“What?” Violet gasped through tears.

“It’s nothing, Vi,” Jax said. “What’s wrong?”

Violet let out another sob. “I’ve never been s-so humiliated.”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “They didn’t accept any of your papers?”

“None! The boys and I tried everything. Yefim even tried to draw up something last minute, but they wouldn’t take any of it! Now I’m going to lose everything—my home, my job. I won’t survive outside the Wall, not for a night.” She bowed her head and cried.

Ellie yanked open the drawers of her desk, pulling out a whole stack of handkerchiefs and a mug, the latter of which she filled from the coffee thermos. She murmured to Violet, out of even Nick’s broad earshot, until she could convince her to hold the mug in her hands. Nick sent a silent thanks to fate that he had hired her. He had been about to say something a hell of a lot more blunt.

“Nonhumans,” Riley snarled. “Nonhumans! We’re not another species. We’re not animals. I have half a mind to march up to the Stands right now—kick down doors until I find every councilman responsible. They want to see feral? I’ll show them feral.”

Nick said, “You’ll get yourself shot.”

“I’ll get myself shot outside too. This way will be quicker.”

Jax said, “None of our lot are getting shot outside if I can help it. Not if they stick with me.”

“Oh, look, it’s the ghoul savior,” Riley deadpanned. “Right now, if I had to bet on who would win in a fight, you or a mole rat, I’d back the mole rat.”

“It’s not all hopeless, is it?” Ellie asked, rubbing Violet’s back. “Some ghouls still managed to vote. Riley, you did.”

Riley scowled. “I did, barely, because I’m fortunate. They gave us no warning, no time to get our papers in order—and a lot of ghouls didn’t. Screw all the drifters, I guess.”

Nick could sense Jax giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. One of the “I told you so” variety. Ellie was giving him a different kind of look. One that placed far too must trust in his nonexistent ability to overcome the odds. You can do something, Nicky. Right?

Nick could do something. He could turn his investigation towards the city, root out who was pulling the strings—who had organized the guards, who had influenced the Council, who had to benefit from all the chaos. It would take time, but he was nothing if not persistent. His joints hadn’t rusted to a halt yet.

But the ghouls didn’t have time. They had tonight. The proverbial nuke had already been launched. Catching the crook here wouldn’t save anyone until after there was no one left to be saved. So, Nick would do something all right: he would shield them from the blast best he could and help those who survived out of the debris. No more. No better.

“Jax is working on an escape route,” Nick said. “I’ve been scrounging up supplies. You need something—help organizing a caravan, a spare gun, anything—you say the word.”

The room calmed, but not in a comfortable way. The room calmed in the same way a snake calms when it is too cold to move. Violet had quieted. Jax looked determined; Riley grim. Ellie turned her face away.

Jax crossed over to Violet, offering her a hand up. “Come on, Vi. Why don’t we get you back to the Dugout? You look like you could use something stronger than coffee.”

Violet accepted, sniffling, and they slipped an arm around her shoulders. With a quiet murmur of thanks to Nick, she and Jax made their exit. Riley didn’t follow. She gazed down at the empty chair, then up at Nick with that grim expression. She stalked forward, and he froze, startled, as she threw her arms around him.

Most folks weren’t lining up to give the metal man hugs. It wasn’t the kind of relationship he had with Ellie, who was technically his employee, and it wasn’t something he would ever initiate with a client, no matter how distraught. He was hyper aware of his own strength as he lifted his arms, and they hung suspended for too long as he tried to recall the last time he had calibrated them. He briefly considered blacking out to run a quick diagnostic.

But the moment had already gone on too long, and something of the old Nick kicked in. He rested his hands on her back.

“Hey now, Doc, this isn’t like you,” he said with something like humor.

Riley chuckled, with something a little less like humor. “Just saying thank you, gumshoe—for everything. In case I don’t get the chance to.” She pulled away. “I could use a drink too. Might as well celebrate my last night, while it lasts. Feel free to join.” Then she made her exit.

Ellie was on the verge of a question again, but she still didn’t want to ask it, because she still wasn’t looking at him. He looked at the board with all its strings and pins. He looked at the empty chair, the abandoned blanket, the untouched coffee. He released a long breath, forever weaker than it should be. Then he donned his coat and his hat, and he offered his secretary his arm.

It got her attention. With a faint smile, she linked her elbow with his, resting her other hand on his forearm. And they made their exit too.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #nick valentine #ellie perkins #john hancock #hancock’s not actually in this snip but he is in the fic i promise

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dixonlvr-online · 1 year

Text

Movie date

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: One suggestive comment, nothing crazy

Genre: Fluff

Being in the Commonwealth had its disadvantages, you knew. But on days like this you were reminded of its perks.

“I’m excited,” you giggled, leading Daryl by the hand to the old building. He’d teasingly dragged his feet on the way out the door, but you knew he was smiling at your antics.

“What? Ya never seen a movie before?” he said, smiling when you rolled your eyes.

“It’s been over ten years, and I used to love the movies! It’s going to be so good!”

You drew closer to the movie theater, cash tucked into your back pocket for tickets. At the window sat a young attendant, smiling at you politely. When you reached for the money to pay, Daryl put a hand out to stop you, already handing over the payment himself. You shot him a look, which he ignored, taking the tickets and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“It was my idea to come. I was going to pay,” you grumbled. He kissed the side of your head, walking you inside.

“My treat,” he said. You smiled in spite of yourself.

Inside was everything you’d hoped and more. It was just the way it had been in the past, complete with a soda fountain and popcorn. You had no idea how they managed it, but you weren’t in the mood to question. Instead, you skipped over to the counter and bought two drinks and a popcorn, handing the cashier your money before Daryl could stop you this time.

“You got the tickets, I’ll get the snacks,” you smiled, watching him shake his head in disbelief.

Once everything had been collected, you made your way into the dark theater, relishing the cold air you were so used to in the old world. You’d grown up in the south, with movie theaters as your only refuge in the summer heat. The feeling brought back nostalgic memories you didn’t think you missed until now.

You sat in your seats, holding hands and sipping on your drinks as you waited for the movie to start. Daryl was fidgeting uncomfortably, so you sent him a look. He met your gaze, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry. Just never done this before, ya know, a real date,” he said. You grinned at the adorable man you got to call your husband.

“You know,” you said, inching closer, “couples usually screw around on movie dates.” He blushed ten shades of red, visible even in the dark room. Pulling your hand to his lips, he kissed your knuckles, turning his face to the screen.

“Yer gonna kill me, I swear,” he said, shifting in his seat. You leaned your head on his shoulder, sitting up so he could wrap an arm around your shoulder.

As the movie began, it was easy to forget the world you lived in, one where you actually could be killed at any moment. For the next couple hours, you were just two people on a date, madly in love, with no worries in the world. Exactly the way it should be.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #norman reedus

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enid-rhees · 3 months

Note

Beth greene angst inspired by that one song lyric "she likes a boy, im not a boy" but an au where she's alive and living in the commonwealth <3

she likes a boy, i’m not a boy || beth greene x fem!reader

warnings: angst (also its short, i apologize.)

a/n: thank you sm for requesting, anon! for this request, Noah never died !! i know a lot of people shipped him & Beth so i’ve decided to put him in this. hope you all enjoy! 🫶🏻 and thank you to @elisiassideb1tch for editing the pictures! please go follow her, she’s an absolutely amazing person and makes incredible edits, moodboards & icons!

why did it hurt so much?

he made her smile, laugh, and blush endlessly. why couldn’t you do that? he would kiss her cheeks and fluff up her hair to annoy her. why couldn’t you be the one to do that? because she liked that boy, and you weren’t him. you weren’t that boy.

you were supposed to be folding the freshly cleaned clothes, but you couldn’t get your eyes off of Beth and Noah. they looked so happy, so carefree about everything. the only thing that existed to them were each other.

the way Beth smiled at him, you could only dream of her ever smiling at you like that. you were nothing compared to Noah, but she was everything to you.

you knew it was hopeless, pining over her like this. there was no chance, not even slightly, that she would ever look your way and realize she likes you too.

because you weren’t a boy.

tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away and resumed folding laundry. you tried to drown out every noise around you, but all you could hear was Beth giggling. each time she did, you felt your heart ache. why couldn’t you be the one to make her laugh like that?

you finished folding the last remaining items of clothing and put them in the basket and stood up, quickly walking out of the room. you put the basket on the table and began making your way back up to your room.

when you got inside, you closed the door and slowly slid down it as the tears finally broke free. you cried into your hands, not being able hold in your cries anymore. it hurt so much, seeing Beth so happy with someone that wasn’t you. you couldn’t rip that away from her though, she was happy with Noah, she has been for years. you wouldn’t ruin what you already had for something like this. Beth was clearly happy, you loved her too much to get in the way of her own happiness.

you knew one day, maybe you’d get over her. you can’t stay stuck on her forever, but for right now, you were stuck on her, and everything hurt. your body ached, begging for every emotion you were feeling to just explode out of you. Beth didn’t know, Noah didn’t know, no one knew what you were feeling, you decided to suffer in silence because there was truly nothing to be done about it. you just had to accept it. that was the full, honest truth.

you wrapped your arms around yourself and hugged yourself. you felt comforted in a way, but it didn’t suffice the way it usually did when someone else hugged you.

when you stood up to head into your bed, your eyes caught Beth and Noah outside together. you watched for a moment, Noah started to throw small snowballs at Beth and she squealed at the coldness of it and threw one back at him. afterwards, Noah pulled Beth into his arms, and you looked away when he started to lean in.

you got into bed and stared up at the ceiling, only one question swimming in your head.

why couldn’t you be a boy?

#divider creds : cafekitsune #beth greene #beth twd #twd beth #beth greene x reader #beth green x fem!reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #the walking dead x fem!reader #twd x fem!reader #twd blurb #the walking dead blurb #beth greene blurb

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year

Text

Spit Pt. V

Masterlist

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Aaron, Daryl, Hershel, The Commonwealth

Summary: You couldn't wait around any longer, knowing it could be days before Maggie and the group would return. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, but Negan was too. Set in the events of S11 E17.

Word count: 5.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Vaginal sex, groping, fingering, bruising, public sex, dom negan, mortal enemies, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, a continuum of the filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: Finally stopped procrastinating and managed to finish this, even though I'm not totally satisfied with the outcome. I watched the TWD finale yesterday, and I'm still heartbroken, but it also gave me massive inspo to write for this fic. I'm excited to write the next few parts, and get ready for some power duo action in the next one. 😉

In the morning you woke alone, the ground beside you empty and cold with the implication that he had left you at least an hour or two ago. It was understandable, given the secrecy of your arrangement, but it didn't stop you from feeling so isolated when you realised that you were by yourself. God, did you miss him already? You shook your head free of the idea that you could possibly be that attached to Negan and leaned up, pressing your back up against the wall. You took a moment just to allow yourself to somewhat fully wake, blinking the haze of sleep from your eyes to stand to your feet and make your way over to Hershel. He was sitting upright with knees bent towards his chest, and for better or worse, the kid looked well-rested. You knelt on the ground to be at eye level with him, and he stared back at you.

"Hey kiddo, how you doing?"

He smiled a little, a look of relief that he at least knew somebody here. Especially you, his favourite auntie.

"I'm okay. I'm a little hungry, and I miss mom."

Your eyes lowered to the ground briefly thinking of Maggie and the others. She could handle herself, and she was determined as hell, so you knew she'd be just fine. Nevertheless, you wished you could see that for yourself.

"I miss her too, but she'll be back soon. I promise."

You extended your hand to fold every finger but the smallest one against your palm, offering him a pinky promise on the basis that Maggie would return. His hand reached out and he curled his much smaller pinky around yours, completing your childish way of a promise. After all, through the chaos and devastation of the world, there was one thing Hershel still was, a kid. He was a lone child standing just outside the boundaries of a community war, and all he wanted was his mom. You pulled your hand back and let out a small sigh, there was something in the air today, and the day had barely begun.

"Well, I'm gonna go back to my spot. You need anything you know where I am, okay?"

Hershel gave you an understanding nod which prompted you to stand to your feet and return to your area. When you sat back down, your back slumped against the rock, your mind began to run wild with scenario after scenario. Your paranoia had gotten the better of you, and the same way you had reassured Hershel that Maggie is safe seemed to be not so easily redirected towards yourself. After a few minutes of torturing yourself with the most catastrophic outcomes avoiding it was hopeless, you were indefinitely restless. Your people were out there, your family out there fighting without you. It was killing you, the lack of productivity from just sitting on your ass and waiting for someone else to fight your battles for you. The truth was, how long would this go on for? It could take days for the group to return, taking down Hornsby was no easy task. The commonwealth was not to be trifled with, and yet we were antagonising them alright, like poking a bear with a stick. You couldn't take it any longer, and you needed space. A breath of fresh air rather than the dirt you were buried beneath. With considerable haste you hurried to the ladder and made your way up, standing to your feet once you'd clambered to the top. It was quieter up here besides the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees, and if you were lucky, the chirp of a bird. The nature of your surroundings gave you a moment to think, but the sound of a familiar voice rudely interrupted your train of thought.

"You too, huh?" Negan pressed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant his back against a nearby tree.

To say your peace was now disturbed would be an understatement.

"What are you talking about?" You replied, and the slight raise of his brows patronised you for thinking so little of his ability to read you like an open book.

"You want to help the others. I can see it in your eyes, and the way you're fidgeting. Hell, I'm thinking about it too."

The idea of Negan possessing a similar care or desire to assist the others in the fight against Hornsby intrigued you. You took slow, small steps towards him, speaking low and with caution. You didn't want any of the others to overhear the possibility of your departure, but most importantly, Hershel. The thought of leaving him alone here with these people wasn't ideal, but if either of you were to leave the other would surely follow, which left Hershel alone no matter what you two would decide.

"I can't wait around like this, I feel like I'm losing my mind. If you're serious, we can leave right now. It may take a few hours to track down the others, but we could do this." You spoke so quickly, the impatience evident within your tone.

Fortunately, Negan was one of the few assholes you knew who would be crazy enough to always follow you into a fight, and for the most part, he had your back too. It was a little too perfect, your motives only feeding one another's as his eyes seemed to glint with a response before he vocalised it.

"You know I'm down. I meant what I said, every word. I've got her back, and I've got yours." His gaze seemed to soften towards the end of his vow to help, and your collective agreement to depart was made unspoken.

"I'll go talk with Hershel, just stay here."

As you turned around to make your way back towards the open hatch the sight of Hershel climbing the ladder startled you, and you found yourself wishing he didn't hear a single word of what you and Negan just said. Judging by the blank expression on his face he was blissfully unaware, and you repressed the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Ah, just the munchkin I was looking for." You announced playfully, your usual sillier and softer side taking over when it came to how you interacted with kids.

Hershel finally made his way to the top and turned to look at you. As much as you loved Hershel you were wary of your choice of words. He was a smart kid, too smart for his own good, and a singular slip-up about anything to do with you and Negan would surely get back to Maggie. You lowered to the ground, crouching to be eye level with him in the way that Maggie usually would when she needed to explain to him that she was leaving.

"I know you're not gonna like this, but I have to go help your mom. I need to help the others, and you have to stay here. They'll look after you, I'm sure of it."

Hershel's eyes flickered with uncertainty, and he looked over your shoulder, right at Negan.

"With him?" It seemed more like a curiosity than an interrogation, but you could never be too careful.

Thanks to Negan spending a moment too long with Hershel back at Riverbend the kind of man that he was, the man who delivered his father's untimely fate, was revealed to him. You'd all tried to keep it from him, but he was too good at recognising people and their true intentions. It was a blessing and a curse, a trait he no doubt had passed down to him by Maggie herself.

"Yes. Negan wants to help your mom too, just like I do. So you need to promise to stay here and to stay close to them. They're good people, Hershel."

For a child, he was rather fearless, often brave, and frightened of very little. He understood your reasoning, and your desire to assist the others. Reluctantly he nodded his head, and you wrapped your arms around him for a long hug. After the tender moment you pulled back, standing straight and smiling wide.

"I'll see you soon, now go on."

You gestured back to the makeshift hatch with a tilt of your head, and he made his way back down. It was now that he was out of earshot that you realised just how tense you were, just how unsettled the idea of screwing up and revealing the two of your's apparent difference in feelings towards one another made you. You'd gone from wanting to murder him to despising him, a stark contrast between the two. Amidst your pensive state you'd barely acknowledged Negan's sudden approach, his warm breath fanning against the nape of your neck as he placed his hands on your hips, lightly gripping them. Thankfully, having your back to him allowed the humbling sight of you biting down on your lip to stifle your shaky breaths to remain unknown, and you composed yourself as he whispered into your ear.

"Your real tense when you talk about me, baby. Is there something that you need?" The confidence in his tone had you rolling your eyes, and you reached down to close your hands around his wrists and rip them from your body, bruising his supposed ego.

"Fuck off, Negan. You coming or not?"

You turned and began to walk in the direction you watched the group head yesterday morning, and Negan's drawled and throaty chuckle in response to your fiery attitude had you dreading the journey already. Walking alongside you Negan would glance over every now and then, and you'd catch him staring you over in your peripheral, then he'd return to looking straight ahead. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You're real good with kids y'know, almost like you got one of your own." His suggestion earned a look of surprise etched across your features, and you parted your lips to speak.

"Really? That's funny, I absolutely hated those little shits before all of this."

Your brusque honesty earned a chuckle from Negan and a partially suppressed giggle from you.

"God, amen to that. I was a damn high school gym teacher before all of this."

You couldn't help but completely halt your movement, your eyes slowly meeting Negan's. Your sudden stop had him engrossed in what shocked you so much to the point of total pause, and a sickening smile spread across your face, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You were...a gym teacher?"

The laughter that spewed from your mouth was so abrupt, so unrestrained, and the visuals only worsened the span of your giggles. To think that the once ruthless leader who dominated several communities and punished people with branding from a hot iron was barking orders at scrawny little kids who would rather do anything other than exercise, was priceless. You felt as though you'd been armed with far more ammo to insult him than you knew what to do with, and he just stared at you, bewildered by your reaction. It only made it that much funnier.

"I am never ever letting that go, it's just too good." You forced your words between your laughter, managing to compose yourself just enough to continue walking forward.

Negan took a little longer than you to begin walking again, surely somewhat offended by your reaction to his previous profession.

"So what happened with your job, y'know in the early days? Did you see the kids you taught?" You levelled your tone with a more earnest curiosity, approaching a profound peer into his pre-apocalypse life that you feared may be as sensitive a topic as you thought.

The slight smile that tugged at his lips instead stupefied you, a soft one in which you could tell he was reliving something of great importance to him.

"No, I uh, I got fired a little before the shit hit the fan. But it was worth it. I ended up wailing on this obnoxious asshole that disrespected my wife at a bar one time, and he just so happened to be the father of one of the kids that went to the school I worked at. It was one hell of a coincidence, and they dropped me."

You glanced over at him wistfully, the love he held for his past wife becoming increasingly apparent, and the protective way in which he spoke of her. It was sweet.

"I never took you for the romantic type."

Your eyes were still locked with his, even as his began to inappropriately wander. From your eyes to your slightly parted lips, your bare neck, catching himself just before his gaze reached your breasts. You feigned oblivion to his pointedly palpable stare, not giving him the reaction he may have wanted.

"Oh? Was fucking each other in a house just before all your friends arrived and in a shack in the woods not romantic enough for you? Because I'd say that's pretty damn romantic." His mock of the rather vulgar moments the two of you had shared with one another had you scoffing.

"I'm talking about with your wife, you asshole. I don't expect you to bring me flowers and tell me I look beautiful, we're not in love." The mere verbalisation of that four letter word sent a chill down your spine, and Negan's subsequent cocky grin did little to ease your apprehension.

"Could be, if you wanted." He uttered his words with such nonchalance, the heavy words finally processing as you stopped immediately, again.

Even subconsciously your fists clenched at your sides, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to find your sanity, an ounce of composure. The boil of your blood from his casual impertinence of implying that the two of you could love one another, could put all history behind you, it was just plain insulting. You heard his footsteps come to a slow stop just beside you, the crunching of leaves falling silent as he stood in place, only rustling again once he shifted his weight to move closer to you.

"Don't say things like that to me, Negan. Just, don't."

Fortunately, you'd been able to somewhat alleviate your rage, your focus shifting to the sound of his breathing as he mulled over what was best to say to you.

"Look at me." It was a simple enough request, but not for you.

You feared that looking at him may pervert your mind again, might result in something similar to what had happened all the times before. Reluctantly, you opened them. He was standing directly in front of you, his hands slowly creeping towards yours, and your silence only permitting him further. His fingers wrapped around your hands to clutch your palms, his thumbs subconsciously smoothing over the backs of your hands like a peace offering.

"Do you trust me?"

That was a loaded question.

"Depends what with." Your blunt response served as the only fair answer to such a broad question, and he lowered his eyes briefly.

All you felt was the feel of his lips pressed against yours, and the way your hands immediately pried from his grip to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in. Whilst you exchanged air and spit into one another's mouths all you could think about was how good he felt, and how he tasted like home. Home to your soul, your mind, and your body. It was gut-wrenching, but so divinely intoxicating. His hands caressed the curvature of your body before decidedly settling on your hips, digging his fingers into your skin. The bruising grip made you whimper into his mouth, and you managed to spare a moment to part your lips from his eager mouth to whisper your pleas.

"Please." You beckoned simply, and Negan looked at you with teasingly furrowed brows.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you need."

The teeth you dug into your bottom lip stifled the oncoming urge to whine from impatience alone, your thighs already clenching together just to create some sort of pressure and satiate some of the need for him.

"Fuck me like you love me."

He used his bruising grip on your hips to drive you into the tree behind you, backing you up against it until you felt the harsh texture of wood grind against the back of his blue shirt you still wore. He removed one hand from your hips to weave his fingers into your hair and grip, tilting your head to the side and forcing you to bare your neck to him. His mouth began roughly sucking marks into your tender skin, and his fingers sifted through your strands a few times before slipping out from your hair and working at the button on your jeans. The moment they were undone he slipped his hand beneath the denim, his fingers lifting the material at the top of your panties to make space for his fingers, which he pushed beneath your underwear too. You gasped from the feeling of two of his fingers delving through your wet slit, brushing up towards your clit and then beginning to rub it in small, teasing circles with his index finger. Your hands slammed down onto his shoulders, your clutch creasing the denim fabric clothing them.

"Holy shit, Negan." You managed to choke out through laboured breaths.

A desperate, shrill cry rips from you as he pushes both digits into your opening, a rather haughty grin spreading across Negan's lips. He leaned in so that his lips lightly brush across your ear, planting a brief kiss on your jaw before he spoke.

"I've missed the sound of those pretty moans coming right outta that pretty mouth." Negan whispered throatily, flattering you as he pumped his fingers.

The intrusion of his fingers somewhat relieved the pressure, but it wasn't enough. As though he read your mind Negan slipped his fingers out from inside you and removed them from your panties, pushing his now slick fingers into his mouth. He tasted you with an approving groan, his eyes faintly half-lidded with lust. You watched him attentively, and the moment his fingertips slipped from his lips your mouth was on him, tasting your fluids on his tongue. Greedily, you felt the fingers of his free hand hook in the waistband of your jeans and start to yank them down your legs, your skin stinging as it was harshly exposed to the unforgivingly bitter air. His lips parted from yours, and he knelt down to help remove the material that had gathered at your calves, your palms rested on his shoulders to support yourself. When he finally got them off he offhandedly tossed them to the side, slinging your jeans into a pile of leaves. You threw your head back a little when your body began to be smothered with a trail of small, intent pecks. They worked their way up your thighs, to your inner thigh, outlining the skin just below your panties, and then directly on your groin. The affection hazed your mind, his touch hitching your faltering breaths and leaving you anticipating the moment he'd finally please you. When he'd finally relieve you. After paying careful attention to your thighs his fingers swiftly discarded your underwear, and you were utterly helpless to him. He stood to his feet, pressing his body against yours to keep you backed against the tree while his fingers worked at his own clothing, freeing himself through the fly of his jeans.

"Turn around, baby."

Negan barely had to ask, and you were already on it. You spun to face the tree, leaning against it with an arched back and your palms flattened against the bark. It was rough against your palms, but the feeling of Negan's fingers gripping your hips was far more distracting. You knew your hips would be a myriad of blues, greens, and purples an hour or so from now, shades to remind you of one of your many betrayals.

"Try to keep it down, alright? Don't need to be dealing with a rotter whilst I'm elbow deep in the cookie jar, if ya know what I mean?" Negan's crass analogy earned a soft giggle, a sound met with his own earnest chuckle.

Then you felt him, and your legs threatened to give way then and there. His careful affections, how he kissed reminders of him into your skin and took his time with you and your body, your heart was so full. He started at a slow pace, and it had you realising how much he was just drinking you in. Negan was enamoured with you. He leant in to rest the side of his face against yours, the angle only maneuvering him deeper.

"You're so beautiful." A gravelly hoarse whisper, his stubble scratching the line of your jaw.

It was enough to almost break you, the way he ardently articulated his affinity for you. You parted your lips to express your response when you were interrupted by a bottomless, hard thrust, the warning of an impending change in pace. Unsurprisingly he picked up his rhythm, every thrust matched with heated, honest whines, and sobs that had Negan smiling against your skin. He was groaning too, with low rumbles that sounded like music to your ears. Although he was most certainly fucking you senseless, engaging in filthy, salacious acts for another time, there was an air of passion. His hands were caressing your hips even as he afflicted them, and the occasional sensation of his lips planting kisses into the mess he'd already made of the crook of your neck. The juxtaposition of his actions wholly ruined you, and the satisfied cry that came from the pit of your stomach was more than enough to prove it. Your clenching had him sighing into your ear, delaying his own release just to grant you a few more moments of the continuation of his thrusts, even despite your intense orgasm. When he couldn't compose himself any longer Negan removed himself from you and spilled onto your bare ass, hot wet spurts that you barely took notice of as you attempted to steady your breathing. The tree bark was digging into your palms, and your mind was unfathomably fuzzy. You squeezed your eyes shut as you worked towards your recovery, and Negan rolled back the sleeve of his denim jacket to use the sleeve of the top below to tenderly wipe your skin, cleaning you. When he'd wiped you clean he went and retrieved your discarded clothing, and you instinctively turned to face him, flattening your palms against the ridges behind you whilst you leant against the tree that you were so sure was the only reason that you were still standing. After he'd helped you back to being fully clothed your legs were far more reliable, and you gazed at him as he buttoned your jeans back up for you.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

His attention was still momentarily on your jeans before he glanced up to lock eyes with you, strands of hair having fallen from his usual slick making him look that much more handsomely unkempt, not that you looked any better.

"We're screwed, right? What you do to me, and the way you make me feel, that's never going away. Is it?"

His stare softened as your eyes filled with despair, your internal battle still not totally lost on you. The sympathy in his gaze was answer enough, and yet he avoided your question with one of his own.

"I asked you if you trusted me, and you did. With you, again. So, what about a game?"

Whatever idea Negan could possibly have come up with was totally lost on you, your narrowed eyes filling with acute doubt.

"A game?"

"Yeah. The games this, for one day, just today, we don't hate each other's guts. Can't hurt each other, no hurling insults, no looking at me like I just shit in your cereal, nothing. Hell, pretend you never even knew me until Alexandria."

Naturally, your internal initial response was to be outraged. The idea of everything he had ever done to you melting away for the sake of a game, further tarnishing the respect you had for those that Negan had killed, was infuriating. But on the other hand, much to your dismay, you were intrigued. What would that look like? Was there a version of yourself where you didn't have to feel such guilt for letting him touch you, to not be so disgusted with yourself? You exhaled a long sigh, letting some of your frustration disperse through your breath.

Your curiosity had gotten the better of you.

"Fine. But what about in front of the others?"

"That's an exception."

Thank god.

"Fine."

It fell silent, nothing but the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees, and your quiet calm breaths. You found yourself tapping into something you rarely felt, or even acknowledged, a draw to him. It was an aspect of your view on Negan you often denied, his undeniable magnetism, a notion that you quelled time and time again.

"Wanna get going then?"

You nodded, still adjusting to the vulnerability of being completely outside of your comfort zone. The walk the rest of the way was relatively calm, and you hadn't come across any walkers on the way there. The sound of a gunshot ringing out in the distance was enough to force you out of your train of thought, an indicator that Maggie and the others were nearby. You were just about to head in the direction of the ruckus when you felt Negan's fingers interlink with yours, the touch resulting in a momentary pause.

"I got no idea what we're walking into, so just stay close." He disclosed his reason for the abrupt hand-holding, elements of concern tinging his reasoning.

The two of you continued onwards, headed directly towards copious amounts of trouble. The culprit for where the fight had broken out appeared to be a desolate small town filled with various decrepit buildings and structures, piles of rubble scattered across the streets like just about anywhere else in the world. Hand in hand you cautiously crept your way into the battlefield, making your way into a fairly narrow alley that led right out to several other passages. You stuck close to the occasionally jagged brick walls, your back pressed to them as you made your way along, only stopping once you reached a protruding corner that if turned would lead right out into another intersecting alleyway. With great attention, you listened for noise, footsteps, chatter, and anything that would indicate someone was nearby. When you heard nothing you put one foot past the wall ready to cross to the other side, but Negan snatched you back. Your back slammed against his chest, and you were just about to tell him exactly how much you'd like to break his fingers for putting his hands on you when you realised two things. The first thing was this ridiculous game that you were determined not to chicken out and lose, and the second? The now more audible sound of a group of commonwealth troopers approaching, their weighted footsteps grinding with the concrete beneath their feet. Negan just saved both of your asses. His arm was wrapped across your front, pulling you against him with his hand gripping the space between your waist and the side of your chest. It was only when the troopers began to pass you that you realised the worst was yet to come, that you could be spotted right here. There was a point of the wall that would allow you the slightest of cover, and you buried yourselves in it. Your breath picked up, becoming a slow frantic pant, and you pressed your lips together to constrain the sounds of your irregular breath. Eventually, the soldiers passed, and both you and Negan exhaled a deep sigh of relief. His hold loosened on you, and you turned to face him.

"Thanks." You muttered, hoping that the gratitude your eyes gleamed with was convincing enough.

"No problem, now c'mon."

Negan stepped out just past the wall and you followed alongside him. Simultaneously, the sight in the periphery of your vision startled both of you, drawing your weapons in your fright. Synchronously, everybody lowered them once we came to realise who one another was, we'd bumped into Aaron and Gabriel.

"What are you guys doing here?" Aaron whispered, whilst Gabriel kept a lookout for any other not-so-pleasant surprises.

"We wanted to help." You replied, ignoring the unconvinced scowl that that earned when Aaron's eyes flickered over to glare at Negan.

"We haven't got time for this, we need to move." Gabriel suggested, and we were all happy to heed that rather wise warning.

You moved as a group, navigating your way through the street until eventually stumbling across an overgrown and dormant building. With weapons readied you made your way inside, mindful of any walkers or people that may be in there. When you saw nothing you continued, flinching a little when both Gabriel and Aaron turned the corner to make their way into a room up ahead and were momentarily alarmed by whatever or whoever was inside. Negan and you were a little further behind, and by time you caught up, they were talking. It was Daryl's voice, which meant-

"Maggie?" You busted into the room, almost tripping over your own feet in your disbelief.

She came into view, injured, but alive. That was all that mattered. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you, and you scurried towards her, latching onto one another with the biggest embrace you'd ever felt. She was the first to pull back, her hands now rested on either side of your forearms. Maggie glanced over your shoulder, some of the light in her eyes fading when she realised you'd brought Negan, and that Hershel wasn't with you.

"Where's Hershel?" She pressed you, her voice moderately raised with motherly concern.

"He's with those people, Maggie. He's in good hands." The fact that he was still sheltered and hidden appeared to soothe her, and some of the tension in her shoulders dissipated.

"We're here to take out shithead and the dickless brigade." Negan added, as charming and sophisticated a mouth as ever.

Whilst everybody hatched a plan you stood at her side, holding each other's nearest hand. Though you could feel Negan's eyes on you, burning holes into the side of your head, you did not meet his gaze. Being with Maggie allowed you to be so overcome with that same guilt again, familiar wounds reopening that you thought had long healed.

"Wait, wait, hold up. Hold up. We can do all of this. They've never seen your face before." Daryl elaborated upon his plan by pointing right at Negan, and the surprised look on his face was priceless.

"Right, are you saying I just walk right on in there?" Judging by the slight narrow of his eyes Negan was trying to gauge whether this was a setup or not, a sacrificial lamb kind of situation.

It wasn't.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Daryl had a point, but there was something he failed to mention too.

"I'm going too then." Your abrupt vocal participation had everybody's heads turned to look at you, and Maggie's hand slightly tugged yours.

Somehow you had gone this long without ever coming directly face to face with Lance or the commonwealth, enough for Pamela not to possess enough knowledge of you. Whenever they'd make a surprise visit you'd either leave for supplies or steer clear, and you'd made it this far.

"No." Maggie muttered curtly from beside you, causing you to turn and face her.

Maggie was rattled by the idea of you being alone with him, again. You just got each other back, and you were splitting again. The worst part? Putting your neck on the line for not just them, but Negan. Going with him meant helping him, she knew that.

"Maggie, it's not your call to make." It was a little blunt, but her dark eyes flickered with understanding, as much as she'd rather put up a fight over the decision of you going.

You gradually part your hand from hers as you started to walk, your hand sliding down hers with the adjoined hesitance to let one another go, before your own fingertips finally parted from hers. Your eyes locked with Negan's for the first time since you'd clambered in here, and his vague expression left you conflicted. He was trying to disguise his joy from getting to spend such intimate time with you again, and from your eager offer to help him. His jaw jaws clenched as he fought the urge to smile, but the light in his eyes was not so easily dampened. After crossing the room you made your way to his side, your eyes wavering over to meet Daryl's.

"Alright. So what's the plan?" Negan asked, and you glanced at each other briefly.

No turning back now.

#the walking dead negan #negan smith #negan twd #negan x y/n #negan x you #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd negan #negan #negan fanfiction #negan fic #negan smut #twd #jeffrey dean morgan

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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littlegodzilla · 2 years

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Request Masterlist.

Hi!!

From now on here I will post all your requests, you can find it in the post set as Masterlist whenever you want to search for them.

Requests are closed.

About whom can you make a request? Okay, Here you have a little list:

Norman Reedus.

Daryl Dixon.

Van (Floating)

Travis (Gossip).

Murphy MacManus.

Marco Vendetti (Deuce Wild)

Mac (Red Canyon)

Justin (Sunlight Jr)

Bauer (AIR)

Judas (Lady Gaga videoclip)

If you want me to write about other Norman's characters maybe I'll need more information or details to be comfortable to write abou it.

Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Whip (SMUT)

Teaching (SMUT)

Fighting (SMUT)

Wet dreams and a Possesive Daryl Dixon (SMUT)

Tha' Fuckin' Thin' (SMUT)

The Commonwealth Girl (FLUFF and SMUT)

Please (Daryl and Negan ANGST)

Domestic Life (SMUT)

Perfect to me (FLUFF and SMUT)

Not Get Cold (FLUFF)

The Librarian (SMUT)

Little Dixon (AU!Daryl FLUFF)

Soulmates (Alpha!Daryl SMUT)

Conffesions (FLUFF and SMUT)

Our First Time (FLUFF and SMUT)

Thinking about You (SMUT)

Meet Again( FLUFF and Little SMUT)

My Omega(SMUT)

Hate (SMUT)

All Ends Here(ANGST and SMUT)

Easy Street (Hurt/Comfort)

The Prisoner (Daryl and Negan SMUT)

Not Good Enough (FLUFF)

Learning (FLUFF)

Jus' Shut Up (SMUT)

Ride with Me (FLUFF)

Jealous (FLUFF)

Our Little Secret (SMUT)

Stay away from her (with Negan ANGST and FLUFF)

Pregnant (ANGST) Part 2 (Angst, Fluff)

The Other Girl (Little Angst and FLUFF)

Breathless (Fluff and Sad) Part 2

Alphas (Alpha Daryl and Alpha Rick) (SMUT)

First Time (VirginDaryl SMUT)

Norman Reedus x FemReader.

The Theatre (SMUT)

Toying Time (SMUT)

Piercing (SMUT)

Daddy Norman (SMUT)

My Good Girl (SMUT)

The Daughter (SMUT)

Co-Workers (SMUT)

New Friends (Norman and Judas SMUT)

Killing Me (Sexting)

Best Friend (SMUT)

Not The End (FLUFF)

Under the Sheets (SMUT)

My Big Girl (FLUFF and SMUT) Part 2 Part 3

New Meetings (FLUFF)

Back to Our World (FLUFF and SMUT)

Marco Vendetti x FemReader.

The Wedding (SMUT)

Red Dress (SMUT)

Mine (SMUT NON-CON)

Not Escape (SMUT NOT-CON)

My Wife (SMUT)

Mac x FemReader.

New Waitress (SMUT)

The Basement (SMUT)

I'm Mac (SMUT)

The Bus Stop (DUB-CON SMUT)

Murphy MacManus x FemReader.

Stop Flirtin' with my Girl. (SMUT)

Domestic day with Murphy (FLUFF and SMUT)

The Prisoner and the Nurse. (FLUFF)

Justin Sunlight Jr x FemReader.

A day on the supermarket (SMUT)

Judas x FemReader.

Let's Ride (FLUFF)

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #daryl dixon #daryldixon #ask me #twd fanfiction #smut #ask me requests #requests masterlist #mac red canyon #murphy macmanus #marco vendetti #fluff stuff #angst #hurt/comfort

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

Text

Whumpuary Day 11-12

Prompt: Exhaustion

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore

“Daryl, we need to stop. Everyone needs a break.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your jacket tighter to your body. It was cold. Late autumn, early winter. You were searching for a group that had robbed and killed some of the Commonwealth’s best scouts. Ezekiel and Mercer had assigned you and Daryl to head up the mission. Daryl was still on edge about declining Maggie’s request to venture out. It wasn’t really his decision. You played a huge part in his declination.

“Take a break then. M’goin’ on ahead.” He was standing on a downed tree, looking through Carol’s binoculars. You knew he was yearning for the old crew. They all had their jobs now and you couldn’t tear them away from that. So, Mercer had assigned troopers to assist. Daryl looked down at you, handing you the binoculars so he could jump down.

“Come on, Daryl. Let’s stop for the evening. I know you haven’t been sleeping. I’m alone when I go to sleep. I’m alone when I wake up.”

His jaw twisted, a sure sign he was gnawing on the inside of his lip. “Maybe I jus’ get ta bed late n’ get up early.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Daryl Dixon, are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” He gave a quiet nah while watching his boot kick at some loose rocks. “We barely get four or five hours and with all the walking and tracking, we’re exhausted.” You had already taken in his haggard appearance and he knew you had. “And you’re not sleeping at all? It’s not just unhealthy, it’s dangerous.”

Daryl sighed, his thumb tracing over his bottom lip. He looked as if he might concede, but with a glance over your shoulder, he dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. “M’goin’. Catch up.”

You watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Turning, you saw a trio of troopers watching with smirks and hushed laughter. Had they been amused by you being able to rein in Daryl’s stubbornness? That would explain his hasty departure.

“You think this is funny?” You snapped, their expressions falling straight. They stood at attention with a series of no ma’am. “Ugh, set up the tents. I’m going after our fearless leader.” You stayed for a moment to make sure they followed orders. You might have placed yourself under your boyfriend’s leadership, but in his absence, they were to heed your command.

You checked your weapons before heading out alone. Daryl couldn’t have gone far but he tended to have the ability to surprise you. You really needed to talk to him about everything. It was you who begged him to stay when Maggie asked him to go. It was you that told him you’d follow him if he tried to leave without you. You didn’t leave him a choice and maybe that wasn’t fair. You had spent so much time separating from him in fights that could have seen one or both of you dead. Now, with a chance of relative peace and safety, you couldn’t let him just willingly walk away from that.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. A few steps further and you could hear the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs. You knew it wasn’t Daryl. The man could move across the forest floor without a sound. When the first growl filtered through the air, you inwardly groaned. Just what you needed. Your handgun was at your hip but you pulled your knife. You were alone and didn’t need to track any unnecessary attention.

Lowering into a crouch, you tread the way Daryl had shown you, finding the lone walker with ease. Your eyes narrowed. It was moving with purpose, arms reaching as though something was in its sights. And it wasn’t you.

Then you could hear him. The grunts and strained noises of Daryl engaged in a fight. Shit. You sprang to your feet, stabbing the walker in the eye as you passed. A nearby incline overlooked a small ravine, where Daryl was absolutely outnumbered by the dead. His crossbow had been discarded or dropped while he used his knives to fight off the dozen or so hands reaching for him.

But he was flagging.

Goddamnit, Daryl!

You tore down the hill, kicking the feet out from under the walkers you passed so you could quickly and efficiently dispatch them. When you reached the bottom, everything seemed to go into slow motion.

The walker had managed to get too close, grabbing Daryl’s arm as he reared back to stab the one in front of him. He used his other hand to take that one down but his arm was inches from the snapping jaws of the other. Just as it’s rotten teeth made contact with his exposed skin, a shot rang out.

The walker dropped.

You fired shot after shot until only three remained. Running past the archer, you took down two and turned to find him pulling his knife from the temple of the last one.

Panting, you dropped your weapons and ran to him. He didn’t fight when you grabbed his arm. “Please please please. Are you bit? Are you hurt?” There was a light red irritation but no broken skin. You thought your legs would give out then and there, the relief surged so strongly. He still said nothing when you pulled him against you, holding him so tightly that it was a wonder he could breathe. “Don’t ever do that again! God, please, don’t!” You cried against his shoulder. His hands were on your back, rubbing gentle circles.

“M’sorry.” Daryl finally whispered into your hair. You sniffled against him for a moment more, relishing in the feel of his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest. When you pulled back, he wasn’t looking at you.

“It’s okay. I’m just,” your voice cracked hard enough to force a pause, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He nodded wordlessly. “Let’s go. The shots will attract others.” You grabbed your weapons and his crossbow, handing it to him.

The walk back was silent, your hand in his. You couldn’t give up the contact, not while your heart still raced with how close you’d come to losing him or even a part of him. When the camp came into view, you stopped, glad that he also stilled beside you.

“They’re gonna be pissed but we can’t stay here.” You sighed giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded again. When you opened your mouth again, your name was called from somewhere behind you.

“We heard the shots.” Two troopers, Jones and Pierce, had their weapons out, lowering them as they approached.

“We’re good.” You answered with a tight smile. “Ran into some walkers. Gonna have to move the camp.” Much to your relief, they simply nodded and moved on, relaying the order.

“Yer right.”

You looked away from the tents and back to your archer. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. “What?” When he lifted his head, your expression softened. He looked beat down, resigned.

“M’exhausted. Was stupid, wha’ I did.” His thumb was drawing nervous circles on the the back of your hand. “‘Bout got me killed.” He dropped his head again, shame eating away at him. You knew that look well.

“Hey.” You hooked a finger beneath his chin and guided him to look at you again. “I won’t say it’s okay because it isn’t. It was stupid.” The flinch would have been imperceptible to anyone else but you knew Daryl, knew what to look for when he was upset. “But you’re here. You’re safe and whole. That’s what matters.” Another silent nod. “I know there are things we need to talk about and we will. You need to rest first.”

A little of the tension bled from his face. “Okay.”

“Let’s go help gather everything. Get moved and get you to bed.” When you started walking, he fell in step automatically.

“Migh’ need a bedtime story.” He was still looking down but he wore the smallest of smiles. You didn’t let go of his hand when you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you’re tired enough to sleep.”

Taglist:

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#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno6 #exhaustion #violence #gore #the walking dead #fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon angst

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haircoveredwriter · 5 months

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This was kicking around in my head and it’s but no means up to fic publishing quality, but this is how I could manage to get it put together until my muse wants to not hate everything I write. I will also note I do NOT have any practice writing in script-style and thus know it’s fully of inaccuracies to what is correct. This is purely just my own spec (plus some of @freefromthecocoon ).

Rescue My Heart (1 of ?)

Day. Inside Genet’s office at Maison Mère.

A lingering, dark shadow looms despite the clear daylight just outside. The building has been overturned, furniture and paper strewn throughout the halls. Random walker corpses in various states of “newness” navigate the speed bumps of body parts and blood - some of them obvious Pouvoir soldiers and party guests who never made it home.

Carol stands behind the heavy oak desk, a familiar crossbow slung over her shoulder as she stares intently at the open file folder in front. A flurry of emotions play behind her eyes as we pan around, stopping behind her, the papers below covered with handwritten lists in French - she scans annotations up and down the margins before she stops dead on the name near the end of the list.

DIXON.

Flashback. Carol’s CW apartment.

Carol throws supplies into the awaiting bag on the edge of the bed, her anxious energy clear in her frantic movements back and forth across the room. Frustration reaching its peak and bunched garments slam into the lopsided sack. Daryl’s voice rings distant, her eyes closing from the overwhelming unrest.

Daryl: “I’ll be there in about a week. I promise.”

Her eyes spring open again in the desolate office, fingers pressed lightly to words that are only ink but act like an anchor to her heart. The hopefulness which carried her across an ocean exudes from her lungs at the same time her breath stifles beneath unsettled hesitation; she pushes through, searching the papers once more for anything useful, coming upon maps marked with pen-traced routes and quickly shoves them inside the breast of her jacket. In the background her travelling companion, Ash, puts down a walker; the limp vessel crumpling in the middle of the doorway, a bare flit of acknowledgment coming from her briefly raised head as he enters.

Ash: We need to go. There’s a large group of rotters in the tunnels, and with a place this size there’s bound to be more.

Carol offers another small nod, dedicated to completing the mission she’s set forth in her mind. Almost vacant. The flurry of papers dance across the tabletop, two drawers underneath groaning as she yanks them open until the room falls silent when the bottom drops out of her heart.

It’s then we see the tape recorder nestled against a wooden corner. Propped up. Waiting to be found. Her world turns upside down while reality stays still; time continuing its constant progression as her movements stop & stall, a looping broken record of her hands - now clasped around cold plastic - while she can’t bring herself to press buttons. Afraid of what she might hear, what she might learn … things she has to know, needs to know but may kill her just the same. The depressive clunk of the toggle resounds, static following momentarily until a recited speech begins.

Daryl: My name is Daryl Dixon…

Carol audibly gasps, strangling the oncoming tears which line her eyes with a mixture of relief and sadness.

Flashback. Commonwealth, early evening.

Carol sits in the communication centre in front of the radio.

Carol: Yeah, you know, pretty quiet here.

Daryl: Quiet’s good. You okay?

Carol: Yeah, just takes some getting used to, that’s all.

She pauses, expression falling slightly as she toys with the twine bracelet on her wrist. The corners of her lips lifting though there’s a distinct despondency to her face. A shadowed figure then becomes visible at the edge of frame but just offscreen.

Daryl: You sure you’re okay?

She won’t burden him with her issues while he’s so far away, not after she told him he should go. She puts away her emotions as best she can, knowing how perceptive he is to any slight change.

Carol: You never have to worry about me, Daryl.

The floor creaks and she turns her attention, finding Dwight leaning against the wall just inside the room. She’s clearly unsettled yet not surprised, continuing with her conversation while trying to decipher how long the living memory has been listening in. She pauses again to collect her thoughts, all the while maintaining eye contact with Dwight.

Carol: Hey, Daryl.

Daryl: Yeah.

Carol: Dwight came back.

The crackle of the broken transmission intersperses with every half word she can make out Daryl saying. Her repeated attempts to regain their connection melt into the endless static and her shoulders slump as she finally gives in. Crestfallen. There’s a long , weighted silence.

Dwight: You really think me showing up again is that important to him?

Carol: It’s not about important. Daryl makes his own decisions, we don’t hide anything from each other.

He pushes off the wall to upright, shuffled movements trying to impart he’s not warranting any caution.

Dwight: Look, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but seemed to me his mind was focused on something else.

Her expression grows serious. She moves away from the desk to leave a few feet between them.

Carol: You don’t know anything about Daryl or me. I don’t know what you’ve been through since you left, you might have changed … we all have and I’m glad you found your wife. I am, but don’t for a second think you can come here and tell me things you haven’t the slightest idea about.

Dwight fights back a small chuckle.

Dwight: You might tell each other everything but you’re lying to yourself. Daryl gave me another shot back then, saw something I was trying to hide even from myself and I wouldn’t be where I am without that. Have what I’ve got. So I guess I’m trying to return the favour, because I’ve been “here”.

As Dwight exits Carol’s breaths are visible through the rise and fall of her chest. She’s shaken yet won’t let herself succumb to it, the various what ifs of the past and what could be play behind her eyes until the screen fades to black.

Ash: Carol? Hey-

The view of Maison Mere springs to life again. Carol gives herself a mental shake, finding Ash mere inches away and a bewildered concern across his features. The deathly growls having grown louder, signalling their impending arrival and Ash reaches a hand to her shoulder.

Ash: You okay?

Carol nods feverishly, tucking the recorder into jacket before they both carefully head for the halls. The camera focuses on Carol as she scans the corner for danger, the recited speech continuing while we watch them move down the dim corridor.

Daryl: If I don’t make it back, I want them to know I tried. Hell, I’m still trying.

#caryl #caryl positivity #caryl speculation #caryl fic #carol peletier #daryl dixon #carol and daryl #carol loves daryl #daryl loves carol #twd: daryl dixon #tboc #the book of carol #Spotify

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