#the way i see it is rick pulled him OUT of that. his life was a lot scarier and darker for a while afterward but i feel like after a bit-

[twigg96]

Hi! Can you do daryl dixon x y/n where Daryl gets protective over y/n when a creepy guy won’t leave her alone no matter what she says so he punches him across the face, ending in like comforting fluff/ smut or both ❤️

Hello @dustbunniess!! This sounds like a great idea! I'm so so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you love so much has happened since you asked for this I'm just trying to get by.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus Era (Claimers Era)

Pronouns: You/Your, She/Her (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: The Claimers, Daryl with the Claimers, Attempted Sexual Assault, Crass behavior and language, Swearing, Physical Violence, Assault, Blood, Panic Attacks, Confusion, Delusion, Daryl becoming a literal savage, Abuse, Death, Beatings, Daryl reliving past traumas, Doing what you have to survive, Things happen off screen,

Summery: After the prison fell you were left alone in a world you felt was unfair and cruel. And who could blame you? Truly after all you'd been through? You changed from the person you were in the prison. But then... so did everyone else... When Daryl your boyfriend is the first to find you out in the world you see just how much things have changed with the new group he's in.

Separate Ways

It was when the prison went up in flames that you knew it was over. There was no going back. No redemption. The governor… in some sick twist of fate. Had won. Although your family had taken his life, and the lives of all his followers. You were all left to suffer, and after such a horrendous outbreak that you all had thought you defeated too… The difference was. This time you were completely on your own. No friendly face to turn to. No guiding hand to help you. Just you and the corpse you stabbed in the skull.

You had followed the screams out. So sure you were following Rick and Carl… but so soon you realized you were completely and utterly wrong. Trudging through the woods towards the highway you knew was your Emergency escape route you cursed your lack of preparation. No water, no food. You knew you had to act fast. Find shelter before the sun completely set for the night, find food before you starved... trudging through the thick forest you quickly found a path to follow. It had paid off to have followed your boyfriend on so many hunting expeditions and to help him on runs.

Coming to a stop you stilled your breath slowly scanning the wooded area around you. Nothing but trees and leaves surrounded you even though you had thought you heard the soft crackle of leaves, the snapping of a twig behind you. It wasn't loud and obnoxious. Something you've come to expect of walkers by now. Nor was it natural and fluid like the wildlife you had so greatly come to miss. It felt human. Large and concise. Hunting. Shivers ran down your spine. Bobbing and weaving through the tree line you darted back out onto the road that you had left in favor of the camouflage of the forest. Pulling your rifle you aimed blindly. Footsteps coming nearer. Louder. Like a bear charging it even growled. Placing your finger on the trigger you stepped back. "Stop!" You yelled.

A boy scrawny and pale came tumbling out of the brush. No older than Carl he looked up to you, his eyes wide and fearful he shivered in fear. Plastered in mud and blood you stared him down panting as the adrenaline left you both. Slowly he raised his hands high, shaking like a leaf he shook his head. "I-I'm so sorry." He whispered. One of the governor's, you realized. "I-It's my sister. She's hurt real bad... please..."

Glaring daggers at the teen you hissed through your teeth, stepping forward your weapon still raised and pointed directly between his eyes. "And why should I help you?" You growled. "She's all I got left." He whispered a tear running down his cheek. Hmm... at one time in life you would have felt pity. You would have run to his aid in a heartbeat. Now... Now however you scoffed at him. "Shoulda thought about that before you got yerself blown ta hell and back." You hiss lowering your gun. With wide eyes the boy watches in disbelief as you sling your pack off your back and rummage through it. "Y-you're just going to let her die?!" He screamed. "Pretty much sounds like you are kid." You growl, pulling out the last of your protein bars before slinging your bag back over your shoulder. "Standing there ain't doin' her no favors so I'd hop to it if I were you." You muttered taking a bite of your bar and walking down the road a stretch. Stomping on the ground like a toddler who didn't get his way the kid whined. "No I'm asking you for help!" He yelled. You wanted to turn and glare. You wanted to yell and scream. Hell you wanted to shoot him. But the growling and the thick rustling of leaves alerted you to the oncoming horde early. In his rage he must not had heard. Until they were right on top of him. You wondered briefly if his sister was among them.

Alone again you let the road take you where it will. across a bridge and through a town that was overrun with walkers. It was there you adopted a few walkers to help you navigate the thick hordes in the streets. Releasing them into the next life once you made it to the next side of town you sighed the tire marks in town leading to a hospital you'd rather not go near. So instead a set of train tracks that you crossed became your path. Instinctively you listened for trains. Your boots worn with wear stuck in the wood and on the nails. It was there you saw the first sign. "Go to Terminus." Your heart swelled. You didn't know where they were. How close they were. But you had to hope. Maybe. Possibly. They were safe.

Resting against a garage for the night you closed your eyes for what felt like a mere second. It most certainly wasn't hours... or so you had thought. Leaves and twigs had become your best friend in this world. The early indicator of something to come. But this time it was more. Loud. Uncaring if it was heard. Jumping awake you reached for your gun by your side but before you could grab it a large boot kicked it away. The large man standing before you sneered at you. "So she's awake." He laughed as you pressed yourself as far into the metal wall as possible. Three more men stepped out of the woods around you both. The laughed and jeered at you kicking at your feet as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "Bet she's good." One said. Another had the sheer audacity to grab a handful of your hair and sniff it. As you went to slap him another grabbed your hand the leader with the grey hair chuckled.

"Claimed."

Two voices chimed out at the exact same time. The leader's sleazy voice and another more familiar voice that made your chest hurt with expectancy. You had waited. Hoped. Dreamed. Hell you even dared to pray for the day to come again where you'd hear your love's sweet voice again. But not here. Not now. Not looking down the barrel of weapons pointed against you.

The leader turned. Glaring at the man who dared to oppose him. Stepping into the light of the moon Daryl looked... different. Changed. His eyes were distant and dark even in the night. "Daryl..." The leader hummed his scowl melting as he turned to the archer. Tutting slightly he shook his head snapping his fingers the other men moved in on you. Two men grabbed your upper arms, hauling you to your feet while the others grabbed your shit. "C'mon now..." He growled. Giving your boyfriend a look. "Ya know better by now than to try and just claim whatever ya want... specially if ya know I'm gonna claim it." He cooed circling Daryl menacingly.

You had expected Daryl to act. The Daryl you knew would have. He would never have stood there and took the shit these creeps were giving either of you... but this Daryl... this one you knew in passing but never truly met before... he bowed his head. He turned away. He simply murmured something low. Soft. Something you couldn't hear.

The leader nodded eyeing you. His expression morphing. From wolfish and greedy to concentrated and scanning. "A'ight..." He sighed running his hand through his hair. "You gonna let us teach him a lesson?!" One of the men currently bruising your arm screamed. The others rallied behind him. Cheering and jeering they whooped and hollered. The men holding you jerked you back and forth making you stumble back and forth between the two. There was silence and for a moment contemplation on the leader's face that made your heart race. "Search her... Daryl and I got business to discuss." He growled turning around he spun your boyfriend with him grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him into the woods.

They dumped the contents of your bag onto the ground. Screams of "Claimed" ripped through the air and you were certain you'd be overrun by a horde any moment. Ripped apart limb from limb by the dead you had survived for years because of a few fucking morons. When all of your supplies including the bag itself and your rifle and ammo were claimed... the men turned their eyes on you.

"Can't touch 'em til Boss gets back." One chimed in as a particularly greedy one stepped forward. "Yeah... but she got pockets don't she?." The man hummed placing his hands on your waist. The others whistled and hollered once more as you backed away as far as the other two would let you.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" You hissed, baring your teeth to the bastard. Nodding he chuckled following you he grabbed you once more this time burying his hands deep in your pockets, attempting to cop a feel. Rearing your head back you growled and head butted the man landing a blow directly onto his nose. The satisfying crunch it left and the blood that trickled down between your brows onto your cheeks like war paint was proof enough. "I told ya not ta fuckin' touch me!" You screamed.

"Hey!" You heard the leader scream from inside the barrier of the forest. Immerging from the shadows of the trees the leader stormed up to the group with Daryl following behind like a kicked puppy. The one you hit writhed on the ground holding his face he whine and whimpered as the others parted like the sea for the leader who grabbed you by the jaw getting close enough to smell the rancid canned food on his breath. "You really got some fuckin' nerve." He bit out. It took everything in you not to spit in is filthy fucking face.

Standing back up straight the man huffed glaring down at you a glint in his eye you didn't like. "Now boys... as you know Daryl and I both called dibs at the same time..." All eyes on you. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat ready to fight to your last breath. "Now Daryl has made me aware of something very important here... a rule. See he did... in fact... call dibs first. He called dibs Long LONG before he met us. This here... This is his wife."

Wife? You blinked but tried not to look too surprised. Daryl was locking eyes with you. A quiet desperation there only you could see. Keep the act up. Stay strong. You glanced between Daryl and the leader. You felt the man holding your right arm tighten his grip adding another fresh bruise to your bicep. "Bull shit." He growled, his hands slid down your arm to your wrist twisting it back and up painfully so that you yelped out in pain and doubled over. "I don't see a fuckin' ring on her finger!" He yelled.

You heard footsteps. Not one set but two approaching you. "He's right... no ring..." The leader spoke directly above you. His boots shufled to turn towards Daryl's. "But..." He spoke again his boots shifting again as you felt a new calloused hand take your left hand, the promise ring you bore sliding off your ring finger made you feel naked and cold. "You were looking at the wrong hand..." The leader said his voice low and cold. The man holding your right arm released his grip stumbling back. Sitting back up you twisted out of the other man's hands for a second before he took your wrist lightly.

The leader held your promise ring up examining it. Your initials were carved into the inside of the ring. Something Daryl had done himself with his knife back at the prison when he found a set having stolen the idea from Glenn of course. "Teach him a lesson boys." The man grunted out gesturing with his head to the man who shook his head and begged for his life. You stood stock still as the others circled him like sharks to the drops of blood that fell from his face. Even Daryl who's eyes went as dark as the night nodded to the command, picking up something from the ground.

Your vison blurred, all you could see was Daryl's back. Blood splattering. You heard the screaming. Jumping at the hand on your shoulder you looked to the man turning you away from it all. "I haven't properly introduced myself yet." He murmured watching you swipe pink tears from your cheeks. "I'm Joe. I'm the leader of this here group. The Claimers. We don't normally keep women long... They get passed around a bit and then... well we get bored and they end up roaming as one of the other biters." He chuckled eyeing you up. Hyperventalating you shook your head pulling away slightly when you felt his arm wrap around your waist. "Now now," He whispered in your ear. "You're a valued honorary memeber." He cooed but his expression became cold and dark. "That means... you work for what you keep. You start with shit. And half yer shit goes to Daryl. Like in any good marriage." He said menacingly, grabbing your wrist. "Oh and one last thing... I get to taste you one time... just part of the deal Daryl and I worked out to let you live."

Cut between confusion and pain you wondered if all the promises Daryl ever made to keep everyone safe were in vain. Who was he? Was he really the man you met back at the Quarry and fell in love with? No... Probably not... He was different. Changed. Evolved into something different. Looking over your finger as Joe slipped your ring back on your finger you felt sick to your stomach. This Daryl, dripping in another man's blood was animalistic. He was brutal and cold.

That night Joe told everyone to just bunk down in the garage. Safer. He said. You tried to clear your head of the mess of a human corpse outside the metallic walls. Following close behind the others you followed Daryl like a lost puppy. "Claimed" Echoed through the building as all the "good" spots were being taken. But Daryl just stood. He waited out in the open and waited with you by his side. Never once looking at you or acknowledging your existence. "Dar-" You tried to speak but was only ignored as he turned away once everyone went quiet. "Claimed." He yelled out when he found the most secluded spot in the garage behind a tarped tactor.

Pointing to the ground he looked around for a moment, waiting for your to sit on the ground. "Dar-" Shaking his head he knelt pulling a blanket from his bag he tossed it over you. "Here." He muttered. Not looking at you. Never looking at you. He stood and walked back out of the garage.

Even with the wool blanket you felt alone and cold. Even more so than when you were actually traveling alone. You hated it. This feeling of abandonment. Blinking back tears your glared at the ceiling wrapping yourself tight in your blanket you tried to fall asleep.

Hours passed. You hadn't slept. How could you with the men snoring like chainsaws all night. But the door opening and closing quietly didn't go unnoticed. Rolling over you turned to Daryl as he approached you slowly. Kicking his boots by your feet he laid down beside you. Lifting the blanket you welcomed him into the warm environment you created with time. You fully expected him to turn you away. To roll away and huff. But instead he scooted close. pulling the blanket over you both.

His arms were around you in a second. Finding tender blossoming bruises he burried his face in your neck. The wetness of his cheeks stained your dirty shirt. "Thought I lost you." He whispered. "Wasn't gonna let anyone take you... Not..." He went silent pulling you as tight as ever. Happiness and warmth swelled in you. Love and security. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed the top of his head, running your fingers through his wet hair.

Truth be told he still smelled like a wet dog. Musty and damp. But he washed off. Didn't stop you from feeling angry and betrayed. "Daryl... Why did you tell Joe..." You swallowed the doubt that still reigned suprieme and rampaged like a tornado in your mind. "Why did you tell him he could... have me?" There was a moment Daryl was silent. You thought he would lie. He would divert the situation. But instead he pushed himself up on his elbows and cocked a brow. "Never said that." He whispered. "Did that prick say that to ya? Say ya owed him somethin? "He whispered his eyes scanning you worriedly. You nodded slowly watching his reaction. Nodding Daryl hummed. "Ok."

Blinking you tried to read his face in the dark. "O-Ok?" You whispered. Nodding he lowered himself down to your ear. "Can't say out loud what I want to do ta the bastard. Someone could hear." He breathed. "Oh..." You tensed. You eyes instinctively scanning for threats but the dark felt claustrophobic and you wanted to simply run.

You were kicked awake early the next morning. You hadn't even realized you had fallen asleep. Another night of closing your eyes and suddenly jerking awake to danger feeling entirely unrested... Nothing new but you could never get used to it either. "Up an 'em, sweetheart." The man with greasy hair murmured. In the morning light you could see the shiner that was swelling half the man's face. A large cut ran down his forehead to his cheek that in the old world would have required stitches to keep it from scaring but now would just prove as a lesson to the man to listen better in Joe's twisted system. "Waistin' daylight..." He growled once more glaring at your boy- No. Your husband.

Daryl seemed to respond in kind. Huffing at the man he stood with a low painful groan. "Let's go." He murmured softly offering a hand to you.

You followed on Daryl's heels throughout the day like a duckling to their mother. Keeping your eyes on the wings on his back, you tried to stay strong and keep from physically acting on the men who treated you more like an object than a human. "Why you carryin' yer own bag when you got a bitch ta do it fer ya?" The rotund one called, chuckling as you moved to Daryl's left away from him. "No on would blame ya if ya went off and unwound on her for a bit... hell I'd even let the boys have a turn when I was done." One of the men with a beanie called out smirking at you from across the crick you had all stopped at to refill your canteens in. Holding your middle you glared at him. Daryl stood handing you your canteen. Reaching out you caressed his arm to sooth him. You were safe if he was here. He couldn't be if he was hurt or dead. He needed to act rashly.

"Shut up." He hissed despite it all. The Dixon temper was never one that could easily be quelled. When pushed down it only became more explosive. More dangerous. "What did you fucking say to us?" The three men rounded you. "We're just tryin' ta be friendly like." The greasy haired man that woke you growled. "Don't need no friends." Daryl growled stepping up to him. "Daryl." You whispered, reaching out to touch him but decided against it when you saw the crazed look in your husband's eye.

"Enough."

Joe's commanding voice ripped the fight apart before it could start. "Len, go fetch some firewood and scout the area. Got a feeling we could get lucky 'round here. Tony, go sharpen that damned blade of yours it couldn't cut butter if we had any for fuck's sake let alone take a biter down if we needed. Dan, fuck off with Len. Set up a perimiter. Daryl. Go hunting for dinner." Joe gave out orders like it was nothing. But your heart pounded in your chest and and nearly leaped into your throat when he met your throat reaching into his bag to grab something. You watched Daryl closely. Every muscle tense and primed to act in case Joe acted pulling something. His hand snaking to the pistol he had hidden at his back.

"Honey, I need ya ta wash our shit. Our clothes, specially our socks and boxers are really starting to get ripe and chafe us. I think you could handle that much... huh?" He purred walking up to you handing a small bundle of used men's socks and boxers. The smell was horrendous and made bile rise to your throat. You had to force yourself to breath the same way you would in a hot summer day around a horde of walkers to get by. "Ok..." You whimpered nodding. Freezing when you felt his hand on your shoulder you stood stock still. "And, sweetheart..." He hummed, his grip becoming incredibly painful his soft expression turning hard. "It's sir to you... Yes, sir. Say it." Whimpering you tried not to give into him. You didn't fall to your knees or bow as he desperately wanted you to. Instead you turned to glare at him your hair swirling around your, a single tear as his only satisfaction. "Sir, yes, sir." You growl stumbling as he pushed you forward into the water.

Hours passed by. Joe gave you meaningless task after meaningless task. Anything to see you in a compromising position. Scrub his boots. Wash his hair. Wash your hair. Sort their bags. Weave a basket. (Something you didn't know how to do and utterly failed in doing.) When he ran out of tasks to give you he made things up. Jump in place in front of him. He tried to make you bathe in the crick but when you threatened to cut his balls off he laughed and said it was a joke.

"Hey..." Len's voice cut through your newest meaningless task. picking up acorns while Joe watched. Looking over your shoulder you cocked a brow at the man that seemed far too excited to have just been told to fuck off for a few hours. "We found something." Dan muttered. Walking out of the woods with a string of rabbits Daryl glared hard at the ground. You'd seen him through the treeline throughout the course of the day. Taking aim at Joe at certain angles when he was certain the older man wasn't looking. But Joe always laughed or shook his head. "I know your watching Daryl. Go back to hunting." Or a promise of "I won't touch if you don't shoot."

"We found a camp!" Len cheered, pulling you from your thoughts. "A camp?" You breathed without thought. "Hell yeah girl." Joe murmured misreading your concern for excitment and curiousity. Or rather ignoring it completely as he slapped you hard on the back making you drop the acorns you gathered. "Come on let's show our newbie how it's done..." Joe said smiling so much like the devil that when you actually met him years later you'd never believe it.

The camp was small. It only housed two people. A man and a woman. The woman gathered baby supplies on a pink baby blanket before her. Brunette hair caught the wind just so that her face was concealed an you never truly saw her face. The man was undoubtedly in love with the woman. From the distance you hid you swore the couple were Glenn and Maggie. Your heart pounded deep in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and you had to stop the scream that threatened to rip through you.

"We flank from all sides." Joe whispered so low you could barely hear him over the ringing of your ears. "Daryl." He whispered, moving closer to the two of you as the others moved into position. "I want to actually see you in there this time. No late arrivals." He hummed nodding as Daryl grunted in response.

"C'mon." No.

"Darlin'... We need ta move." Daryl whispered. No, God please no.

Your entire body shook, your eyes wide as saucer plates. Moving forward in the brush you only stopped when you felt Daryl's hand on yours. Turning to Daryl fear in your eyes you shook your head. Not again.

Pulling you away into the denser brush as Joe began his speech to the couple you could just barely see the others moving in.

Your body jerked when the screams started. Pulling at Daryl's hand you sobbed hard. "Daryl!" You wailed only to be pulled back his hand covering your mouth so your sobs were muffled. "It ain't them." He whispered. Pulling you incredibly tight you felt him bury his face in the crook of your neck hot tears rolling down your collar bone mixing with your own. "It can't be them."

That night you all slept under the stars. Fire lit and as warm as you could be in the middle of fall you and Daryl were of the first to retire, finding a spot in the dirt to bed down you laid against a large tree your back pulled against him. Just like when you two started dating out on the road. His wool blanket provided enough warmth to the both of you that the ground didn't bother you. Even with the rocks and roots digging into your side.

Just as you started to nod off you jerked awake to the sound of sets of heavy drunken footsteps. Daryl's arm wrapped tight around your middle. pulling you close. The others had found liquor at the camp and indulged heavily in it. Only Daryl and Joe refused to touch it.

"Claimed!" One man screamed loud. Belligerent. The smell of booze stained the air and made your empty stomach turn. "Nuh-uh." Another hissed. "I already claimed that spot." Len... Daryl had told you to watch out for him. He had an issue with claiming what wasn't his. he'd claimed what little food Daryl could get out hunting while on patrol.

"Bull shit!" The other man, you assumed to be Ivan screamed back. "It's true!" You tried to tune them out, squeezing your eyes shut breathing slowly, hoping you and Daryl went unnoticed. But as the fight got worse and worse you couldn't help the way you physically jumped when Tony landed on the ground on his back near by the two of you. Covering your mouth Daryl pulled you tight against his body as the two men rolled onto the wool blanket then off again.

You couldn't sleep after that even if sleep found the two that fought just a few moments ago. Turning to Daryl you buried yourself deep in his chest. "What was the wife thing about?" You got the courage to ask when all was quiet and the snores of the men matched the previous night. Shaking his head Daryl laid back staring at the night sky. He was silent for a moment. Whether he was waiting for a break in the snoring or simply listening for any eave's droppers you'd never know. "Probably shoulda done it a long time ago... just..." His words fell off going silent. Sitting up you captured his eyes in yours. "I love you, Daryl." You whispered. "We'll find them... I promise." But he remained cold. His eyes dark, distant. "Get some sleep."

Time seemed to go in a blur after that. Days and nights melded together. Didn't matter which was which truly. You never felt rested. Your stomach never empty. Daryl attempted to feed you his portions. But as the lowest on the poll he got scraps as it was and you hated taking what he had.

You were tired and underfed when you found Rick, Michonne, and Carl. You had believed that they were just visions when you first saw them. Len held you by the arm. "Gotta make sure she gets in on the action with this one!" He yelled, jerking you around. Wide eyed and in disbelief you gapped like a fish. These people looked just like your family.

"Rick?" You managed. Silence. Joe turned to you his eyes questioning before he gripped you hard. Jerking away you tried to free yourself from his grasp. "Hey! Let her go!" Michonne screamed from the grasp of another man. "Don't you fuckin' touch her!" Carl cried. You nearly wailed out and fell to your knees in pure bliss and euphoria. Hearing their voices. Knowing for a fact they were real. But you were on the ground before you could act. Your face to the pavement you groaned as a boot ground against the back of your skull holding you there. "I've got one free ticket to paradise here boys... why not use it while the pickin's good?" Joe hummed.

You screamed as hands grabbed at you before you could even process the cold pavement below or the screams of your family by your side. Swinging with all your might in any direction you could get a good hold on you connected a few good hits. The yelling from your family was nightmarish. You forced yourself to close your eyes Not wanting to witness or watch what could possibly be happening. Daryl had shielded you last time. Alone you felt vulnerable and terrified.

The boot on your head made your head pound and ache. It was crushing your head and it felt as if your brains would spill if they stepped any harder. Your hair was yanked. Your blouse cut down the back. But before anything else could happen. The person on your head. Joe you believed. Stumbled off. A resounding smacking of knuckles to skin echoing through the woods. Sitting up your shirt slid from your shoulders as you stared wide eyed at Daryl. He had gotten one good swing in. Glancing to you was his downfall. He was dogpiled before he had the chance to say otherwise but the others forgot the knife in your boot. They forgot to check Carl or Michonne in their haste.

Blood pooled on the highway. The five of you stood gasping as one family unit once more, covered in blood but victorious above all odds. Gasping and staring down at the ugly hideous creatures below you, tears rolled down your cheeks. Daryl once again refused to look at you. Instead he offered his vest to you to cover you up with. Instead he turned and glanced to Rick a heartbroken boy staring at a man looking for forgiveness.

You were enveloped by Michonne and Carl before you could say other wise. Not that you would ever pull away ever again. Pulling them close you watched the makeshift brothers share a silent conversation. One guarded and afraid.

The other loving and accepting willing to forgive.

Rick held Daryl tight as he cried and the three of you migrated to them. Hugging them tight you rested your head on Daryl's shoulder, closing your eyes. For the first time since the fall... there was a small flicker of hope.

#the walking dead #twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #dark fic #dark themes #dark thoughts #the claimers #twd the claimers #tw violence #long post

[fear-no-mort]

can we talk about how we’ve gone full circle with these two pulling eachother literally kicking and screaming to spend time together

#maybe this is incorrect but as someone who is pretty much the same the way i see it is mortys life was peaceful before rick but it also lik #Actually Sucked. like. his parents were constantly fighting and he was getting bullied every day and he couldn’t focus in class he very- #obviously is nd but nobody is trying to help him in having SOME sort of future and understand stuff in school.. like.. #the way i see it is rick pulled him OUT of that. his life was a lot scarier and darker for a while afterward but i feel like after a bit- #he definitely would rather rick did come into his life the way he did. because otherwise morty would just be this shy kid with no friends- #and dysfunctional home life and probably no future forever #and now we’ve gone full circle and he’s doing that for rick now. but that’s just how i see it #rick and morty #odiespeak

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (1)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell (on the way!)

This is part of a series of unrelated works entitled "Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually" and I think that title is fairly self-explanatory. If there are any other couples you think would be good parents for our Stevie boy, let me know and I'll take them into consideration!

Anyway, the B-Side thing is because this is like taking my Addams Family Steddie au and just flipping the cassette tape hfjsdk

This time, it's Steve that's the Addams and Eddie that's normal!

Anyway, blame @whatthemeepever for this one specifically cuz it's gonna spiral into a wild ride actually, so let's all pray for Eddie in advance

If you'd like a tag for any future parts, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

-------

The moment Steve is born, his father sticks a light bulb in his mouth. When it glows, he jumps with joy and throws Steve into the air. The moment Steve's mother realizes what's happening, she slaps his father upside the head, throws the light bulb at him, and threatens to blow him up again if he sticks anymore into Steve's mouth before he starts teething.

She follows through on the promise exactly two weeks later, and Steve's parents (one smug and the other notably singed but delighted) rebuild their house next door to his father's brother.

Steve's mother chooses his first and last name (Harrington, a reference to some long-lost family friend or other), and his father is reluctantly given the freedom to choose his middle name. In the end, he is dubbed Steve Faustus Harrington, a name his mother is so surprised to find acceptable that she kisses his father as a reward.

And so begins Steve's life.

------

"I can't believe you got expelled," Steve's mother seethes, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turn white. "Again!"

Steve crosses his arms, sinking lower in his seat as he glares out the window. "It's not my fault they were shitty friends. They got what they deserved."

He hears his mother laugh, the sound strained and indignant and very quickly followed by his father turning to look at Steve from the passenger seat. His sunken eyes are filled with suppressed delight as he asks, "What did they do this time?"

A few seconds pass before Steve sighs. "They said they couldn't go out later because they had to study for finals. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Finals are three weeks away, and they can't spare one weekend for the funeral museum?" he says, scoffing as he looks at his father, grins, and adds, "So, I brought the funeral museum to them, coffins and cremations and all."

His father's eyes light up, sheer joy and pride dancing in them. And for the very first time in Steve's life, his mother pulls over to the side of the road and parks the car.

"Pumpkin?" his father asks.

"Fester," she says, her voice low and somewhere in the range of upset, "do you remember when I tried to kill your entire family?"

"Of course. It was a splendid attempt."

She nods and looks at him with a tiny, somewhat pained smile. Then she turns and sets her gaze on Steve. "Darling, what kind of grades do your friends have?" she asks. "Because if you're anything like me, and I know you are, you tend to befriend people who are significantly dumber than you."

Steve blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, most of them were about to fail," he admits.

"Then, isn't it possible they really were studying for finals? Especially if they were close to failing at a school where passing is a requirement of attendance? Perhaps you could have suggested going to the...funeral museum after finals?"

A few seconds pass as Steve considers her words, a crushing sense of realization and guilt dropping on his shoulders and traveling to the pit of his stomach. It makes him feel nauseous, and he stares down at his lap. "I fucked up," he finally says, voice quiet and apologetic.

"Of course not!" Fester says, reaching out and ruffling Steve's hair despite the affronted noise from Debbie, "Your plan was beautifully conceived and masterfully executed. Perhaps you should just talk a little more before pulling out the urns next time."

"Incredibly, your father is right," Debbie says, looking pleasantly surprised before turning her gaze to Steve. She sighs and holds out a hand, squeezing Steve's when he takes it. "Don't get so blinded by a beautiful pair of shoes that you completely miss the sale two aisles over, Steve. At the very least, do a little more research before resorting to torture and murder. Personally, I'm very tired of calling the family's lawyer."

Steve snorts at the utter lie. Debbie loves calling the family's lawyer. She does so regularly just to double-check the state of Fester's stocks and bonds and deeds and general worth. "Okay," he says, nodding once, "I'll remember for the next school."

"You know," Fester says, looking at Debbie hopefully, "Pubert is a senior this year. Maybe Steve could go to high school with him."

Debbie hesitates, frowning slightly before saying, "Yes, but it's...public school."

"The best Gomez and Morticia could find! It was highly recommended by Margaret, and Pubert can make sure Steve adjusts and makes friends."

Steve can see the moment his mother agrees. She sighs, lets go of his hand, and fixes her already perfect bob. "Well, I suppose," she says before looking at Steve once more. "And you, Steve? Would you like to try...public school for your junior year?"

"Sure, might be fun," Steve says, thinking about all the movies he's seen that display public high schools as a zoo and the worst place on Earth. It sounds great, and if the place is still standing while Pubert attends, it must be somewhat entertaining.

------

"You've got everything you'll need?"

Steve looks up from lacing his shoes and smiles at his mother, earning a nervous grin in return. Her blonde hair is uncharacteristically frazzled, and Steve feels warm and fuzzy (like a mold growing over his heart) at knowing she's so worried as to appear less-than-perfect in front of him.

"Yes, I've got everything," he says, gesturing to the backpack on the stairs next to him. In addition to notebooks and his pencil case, Steve has also packed a travel mace, a miniature bomb (alarm clock detonator stored separately, of course), a tiny bottle of tequila, and his lucky lightbulb (just in case).

His mother nods once, takes a deep breath, and then turns her head toward the kitchen to shout, "FESTER!"

Something crashes, a cat (they don't have a cat) yowls, and Steve's father slides into the doorway. "Yes, Pumpkin?" he asks, eyes bright and happy and utterly stuck on Debbie.

"Is Steve's lunch ready? You made something normal, right?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Fester glances at Steve, a brief look shared between them that's both sympathetic and endeared toward Debbie. "Of course," Fester says, disappearing for two seconds before striding over to the stairs with a pink lunch box decorated with black skulls (Steve chose the color, Fester chose the pattern, and Debbie gave them her stamp of approval). "A turkey sandwich, fruit, cookies, and juice."

"Fruit?" Debbie asks, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Apple slices!"

After a few seconds, Debbie nods, and Fester gives the lunch box to Steve, shifting some so Debbie doesn't see the conspiratorial wink that tells him the juice is definitely poisoned. Steve grins and shoves the lunch box into his bag. He finishes lacing his shoes and stands, holding his arms out so his mother can inspect him.

"You've done a wonderful job pairing your shirt and shoes," Debbie says, walking around Steve with an air of pride and approval. She rubs the sleeve of his pastel yellow sweater between her thumb and forefinger, nodding once. "The plum pants are a bold choice, but it pays off. And, as always, your hair is flawless, dear."

Steve grins, letting his arms fall to his side. "I tried that new mousse you gave me," he says, fingers twitching as he fights the urge to run them through his hair. "It works great."

His mother smiles even wider and kisses his cheek, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the lipstick residue she leaves behind. "I knew it would," she says, inspecting Steve's face once more before nodding with approval.

"Pumpkin, it's time for Steve to go. Pubert is waiting."

Debbie huffs softly and gives Steve one last once over before nodding and hurrying him toward the door. "Have a good day at school, try not to blow anything up, and call me if Pubert tries to cut off your head with a rusty knife again," she says.

"What if it's a clean knife?"

"Well, that's fine. Grandmama will just sew it back on."

Steve grins and waves to both of his parents before hurrying toward the sidewalk where Pubert is waiting. His hair is parted down the middle and gelled down, his pencil-thin mustache is immaculate as ever, and he's wearing a three-piece suit. When Steve is closer, he pulls out two cigars and offers one.

"This isn't an exploding cigar again, right? I'm wearing a new shirt," Steve says, taking it and looking it over.

"Nah, that joke only works once," Pubert says, dragging a match against his palm to light it. He holds it to his cigar first, puffs a few times, and then does the same for Steve. "How long till you get expelled again, you think?"

Steve shrugs as he takes a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment before skillfully blowing it out in perfect circles as they walk. "I haven't been to a public school before," he says, tapping the cigar over the sidewalk, "so, hopefully, at least a year."

"Public school is fun," Pubert says, getting a wicked grin as he looks at Steve. "You can get away with a lot."

"And the other kids?"

"Well, they've certainly got a lot to learn. I mean, most of them can't even handle a little cyanide."

Steve scrunches his nose and takes another puff of his cigar. After a few seconds he asks, "Will we have any classes together?"

"You're a year below me, so maybe an elective or two. What did you sign up for?"

"I signed up for, uh, shop class, forensic science, and Gothic literature."

"We'll have Gothic lit together," Pubert says, flashing a smile before asking, "And you know what shop class is, right?"

Steve blinks, suddenly a little hesitant. "Is it not, like, something about shopping?"

"No. It's building things. With wood, usually."

"Oh! So, I can build anything?"

"I guess. I haven't taken it."

"Well, I'll find out. Maybe I can build Dad a catapult or guillotine or something."

As they get closer to the school, more students fill the sidewalks, but Steve notices that most of them seem to give him and Pubert a wide berth. They also stare, looking at Steve like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved, with more than a few flashing sympathetic smiles like he's trapped and can't get away. "You're popular," Steve notes, taking one last puff of his cigar before dropping it into a trash can.

"I would fucking hope so," Pubert says, finishing off his cigar and tossing it into the next trash can they pass. "I didn't flood the place with roaches and vermin to not be known."

Steve grins, listening as Pubert regales him with the tale only to cut it short when they get inside the school and pass the front office. "I need to get my schedule, but Mom said she made sure we'd have lunch together," Steve says.

Pubert waves him off. "Yeah, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Have fun, cousin," he replies, mockingly saluting him before heading off down the main hall.

-----

Steve's first class of the day was AP Calculus, followed by AP Physics, Wood Shop, and AP U.S. History. When it's finally time for lunch, he surveys the cafeteria for a few seconds before finding a table in a dark corner that everyone seems to avoid. By the time he gets there, Pubert has sat down with a tray from the lunch line.

Steve sets his backpack on the table, sits down, and says, "For a place that's so lifeless, it's not even fun."

"Yeah, it's like that," Pubert agrees, poking some unidentifiable mush on his tray with a spork before spooning some into his mouth.

It's with a somewhat jealous expression that Steve pulls out his lunch box and removes a thermos of poisoned juice. "Is it bad?" he asks, nodding to the tray.

"Utterly repulsive."

Steve sighs and takes a sip from the thermos before pulling out everything else in his lunch box. "They made me wear safety goggles in shop. Safety goggles! It's like they don't know how fun splinters in the eyes are. And everyone is soooo scared of the saws, it's ridiculous," he complains, taking an angry bite of his sandwich.

"What about your other classes?"

"Physics would be better with more practical examples. I mean, who cares about apples when we could learn if a body falls faster than a cannonball?"

"From experience, no," Pubert says, "Anyway, you gonna join any clubs?"

"Maybe the swim team? If I'm lucky, I'll drown," Steve says, perking up a little at the thought.

"Best of luck with that," Pubert replies, stealing Steve's thermos to take a sip of his juice. When he places it back, he offers Steve a sporkful of the mush.

Steve lights up and happily tries it, wondering how something can be so perfectly undercooked and overcooked at the same time. "Impressive," he says, passing the spork back. "Is that freezer burn?"

Before Pubert can answer, a bang from the other side of the cafeteria cuts off all other sounds. Steve glances over to see a boy in heavy combat boots climbing onto his table with a mischievous grin. He's wearing a shirt with a devil head on it and "Hellfire Club" emblazoned above and a vest with spikes, pins, and patches. His hair is just below his shoulders and a little curly, and Steve can see from here the wild glint in his eyes as he stomps down the table while talking.

"I'm tired of the double standards of this lame school. If you're into science or band or some other 'uncool' interest, the administration couldn't give two shits! Oh, the choir room needs new risers so the current ones don't break any necks? Well, that's too bad, we've got to give the football team new monogrammed towels for the locker room!" the guy says, grinning when a group of kids to the side shouts their agreement. "And never mind that our Robotics team has won the school three trophies when the basketball team so valiantly scraped into third place last year for being kinda good at throwing balls into laundry baskets."

"Prick!"

Steve glances at the guy who shouted, taking in his letterman jacket before quickly dismissing him. He looks back in time to see the boy on the table sticking out his tongue and holding his hands to his temples to make horns. There's an even wilder look in his eyes now, a sheer glee at causing a scene and getting under someone's skin.

Steve doesn't realize he's smiling until the boy scoffs, shouts one more line about the school's unfair preference for "mediocre jocks," and hops off the table. He looks over at Pubert and asks, "Who was that?"

Pubert glances at Steve, studying him for a moment before swallowing another mouthful of mush and saying, "Eddie Munson. He does that once a week, usually."

"Eddie Munson," Steve murmurs, glancing over at Eddie's table again and smiling a little wider.

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #that'll be the tag for this one lol #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #debbie jellinsky #fester addams #pubert addams #steve deserves good parents actually

[myhappylittlesideblog]

See You When You Get Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Shane's a big jerk in this

Summary: Checking in with those going on a supply run creates some drama within the crew. (Season 1 ish)

A/N: My first Daryl piece! Needed some soft Daryl in my life lol. I haven't finished the show yet, currently in the middle of S.6 and it's been a long time since I watched season 1&2, so sorry for any inaccuracies.

Runs weren’t your thing. Not right now. Maybe in a few months you’d be able to stomach it- going out amidst walkers and even more twisted survivors to find food. And toothpaste. God, you needed toothpaste. But even with the protectors of the group on your side, watching your back, you knew you wouldn’t make it back to camp. Not right now. Maybe someday. 

Everybody was clear on that. The “not right now.” So those going out on the supply run would check in with you, ask if you needed anything special and then leave you be to do their laundry or clean the little dishware you had all collected.

They collected. The ones who could collect things- those going on the runs. You just cleaned. For now. 

“Hey.” It sounded more like a grunt than a word. 

Daryl pulled you from your thoughts. Like a hand dipping into the waves to yank you up into the clear air to breathe. 

“Need anythin'?” He asked once you looked at him. 

You smiled. A lips pressed together - thanks for thinking of me - smile. 

“The usual. Diamonds, meth, whatever you can find.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“And toothpaste if you can find it. But I let Andrea know that.”

He gave a curt nod. “Kay.” 

“See you when you get back,” you said to him. 

A laughing hiss came from behind you. “Damn, girl, tell 'im how you really feel.”

Shane stood behind you. Snarky. Smirking. Shaking his head. 

Though Rick was the one who found you on his way out of the hospital, it was Shane who let you join the group. At least, that’s how he saw it. You were grateful to him, he protected you, provided for you like he did the others. When you had no place to stay and no tent of your own, he let you share his. It was a generous gesture that was starting to come back to bite you each time Shane acted like he had a say in everything you did. Even more than the others in the group, that is. 

“What?” you said. 

His fingers dug into the belt loops in his jeans as he leaned to one hip. “Everybody else gets a pat on the shoulder or a hug. 'Be safe, keep safe,’” he said, imitating a whiny voice that wasn't quite yours. He shrugged. “Guess she couldn’t care less ‘bout you, Dixon.”

You heard the distinct click and jangle of Daryl putting his crossbow over his shoulder, ready to move out. Your jaw clenched at the thought of him leaving with Shane’s words in his head. 

“Why would you even say somethin' like that?” You shot at Shane. “I would never-“

“Ya don’ haf’ta explain yerself,” Daryl mumbled to you. 

“What was that?” Shane called. 

“I said she doesn’ haf’ta explain herself to you,” Daryl said, taking a step toward you, but angling himself toward Shane. Ready. 

“I think I know her better than you do, Dixon,” Shane said. “We share a goddamn tent-“

“You-“

“If you think,” you interrupted both of them, “that I’d say such a thing about any one of us, then you don’t know me at all. But Daryl’s right. I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Shane’s eyes went narrow. He crossed the open space between you, the span of two tents, in just a few long strides. You felt Daryl stiffen at your side as Shane stuck his face near yours. 

“You be careful who you align yourself with, (Y/N). If I were you-“

“Yer not.” Daryl said. 

Shane didn’t take his eyes off you. “If I were you, I’d choose better than a redneck with a few arrows.”

Even with his harsh words, his gaze softened toward you. Then he turned away and made his way back to his tent. 

Once he disappeared, you sighed, hoping the tension in your chest would dissipate with the air, but it didn’t. 

“Dick,” Daryl mumbled. 

A dry chuckle left you as you turned to him. His cheeks were pink with anger but his face was calm now. 

“Daryl, when I said- I just meant that-“

“I know what ya mean when ya say it.” His arm snaked around your neck, pulling you into him. Fast, hard, and unexpected. “I’ll see ya when I get back.”

He spoke into your hair. You felt his lips and breath move against your skin. And then he let go, gone as fast as he appeared, and you watched him saunter toward the rest of the group going on the run, his crossbow fit to his back. 

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

A/N: A part two may come! I can't just leave you in a tent with Shane after all that, can I?

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #twd daryl #daryl x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl imagines

[lesservillain]

—iii. the smoke, and who's still standing when it clears

cw: some slight implied sexual thoughts?

an: i had to cut a part from this or else it was going to be way too long. see ya in the next one, reefer rick.

“So, how did it go?”

Tonya sits across from you looking perfect as always, such a beautiful light in your life. Even when she’s antagonizing you.

“It was…really nice actually.” A small, shy smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your mind recalls the night before.

Your date with Sam went way smoother than you had anticipated. He picked you up on time, even coming to the door to get you which you knew Tonya was going to bring up today. He did everything right; held open all of the doors, pulled your seat out for you, paid for your food, actually listened to what you had to say and didn’t interrupt you. He was extremely charming and funny, and the two of you had a lot more in common than you expected.

“Sam sounds pretty perfect, doesn’t he?” Tonya says with a teasing tone, eyebrows raising suggestively. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m making him sound that way, huh? It makes me wonder how bad his faults are going to be.” 

“Unless he’s got bodies in his basement I’d say keep him around.” Tonya raises her hand to count on her fingers, “He’s hot, he’s got a good job, good manners—I’d say baby trap his ass.”

“TONYA!” You lean in, whisper yelling at your friend’s suggestion, the two of you breaking out into a fit of giggles. “I am absolutely not doing that. But…I did agree to a second date.”

“I guess I can take that for now,” Tonya shrugs, taking a sip of her mimosa. “Oh, speaking of dates, I almost forgot. Charlie and I are going out of town for our anniversary. He’s taking me to Chicago!” Her giddiness warms you. Even if you aren’t a fan of him, you have to admit seeing your best friend happy brings you your own kind of happiness. 

The sharp sound of the phone ringing makes you jump, almost dropping the plate you were cleaning into the soapy water. You look at the stove clock reading just a little past 8 pm. In the few weeks that you’ve been here not once has the phone ever rang. Walking over to it, your hand hovers over the plastic as you debate on if you should answer it. It’s not like it's your house, but who else is going to answer the phone? 

A sigh of relief comes from you as the phone ceases it’s ringing on its own. The quiet takes over again, and you think you’re in the clear until the ringing starts again. 

Grabbing the phone, you quickly bring it to your ear with a, “Hello?” 

There’s a pause, and you repeat your greeting into the receiver. Suddenly you can pick up some whispering, at least two voices talking to each other on the other line. 

“Sorry, wrong number.” Click. Dial tone.

You look down at the phone before shaking your head and placing it back in place. But only a single step is taken before the phone begins to ring again. Annoyed now, you pick up the phone once more.

“Hello?” You say again, tone reflecting your temperament.

“Ugh, not again,” you hear the voice from the other end groan. “Sorry, miss.” Click. Dial tone again.

‘What the fuck?’ you think, putting the phone back on the hook again. You hover around it for a moment, and sure enough it begins to ring again.

“Listen, kid,” your start, tone firm, “If you keep calling here to bother this family I will call Chief Hopper.”

“You know Hopper?” The younger boy's voice says from the other line. No, you don’t know him. But Wayne told you to say that in case this exact scenario was to arise.

“Yes, I actually have his personal number right here—”

“So do I,” the boy quips back, striking a nerve. You’re about to give this kid an earful before he continues on. “I just saw him earlier today, actually. But that’s not the point. I’m just trying to get a hold of my friend and this is the number his uncle gave me to call and—”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, uncle. I don’t see how out of all the information I gave you that him having an uncle is what caught your attention.”

“Oh, my god, you are so annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is your friend’s name Eddie?”

“YES! Yes! His name is Eddie—”

“Dude, don’t tell her his name—”

“Chill out, Mike, it’s fine—How do you know Eddie?”

“Well,” you draw out, returning some of the attitude back to the other end of the call, “I think me telling you that depends on who is asking?”

There’s a bit of muffled deliberation between the boy on the phone and whoever Mike. You wait patiently, foot tapping against the kitchen tile. After a moment you hear a sigh come from the other line, followed by a throat clearing.

“Okay, fine. My name is Dustin Henderson,” the boy starts. “I’m calling looking for Eddie Munson. He is my friend, and myself and some of his other friends are worried about him. I’m assuming you’re in his house for some reason, and I am asking you if we could talk to him. Please.”

“Dustin Henderson, huh?” You repeat, attempting to keep a bit of sass in your tone. In reality, the name instantly rings a bell. Wayne told you a little about Eddie’s friends, and along with the guys that Eddie was in a band with, the name Dustin came up a lot. Wayne said Eddie looked at Dustin like a little brother he never had. 

It takes everything in you to keep your composure right now. Eddie’s been feeling much better these last couple days, so you’re sure he’ll be delighted to talk to his friends. “Okay, Dustin Henderson. Let me go ask him if he’s up to taking a phone call. Hold on.”

You set the phone down on the kitchen table and jog down the hall to Eddie’s room. Knocking on his door, you push it open slightly before calling into the room.

“Eddie? Are you up?”

“Hmmm…I am now,” the groggy, sleepy voice from the other side of the door sends an unwanted chill down your back. Quickly shaking it off, you enter the room to Eddie sitting up in his bed, hair in every which direction and arms outstretched as he lets out the most unnecessarily loud yawn you’ve ever heard. You give him an unimpressed look to which he returns mockingly.

“Can I help you? Or did you just come in here to stare?”

You roll your eyes, “You have a phone call. From a Dustin Henderson, who seems like he very much would like to speak with you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, an excited expression on his face. Though, it’s a fleeting one, as his features become downtrodden and he starts to sink down into himself.

“Tell him I’m asleep.”

“What? Why?”

He huffs. “I don’t want to talk to him…”

“Eddie, he’s called the house at least four times. Can you just—“

“No.”

You watch him sink under the covers again, back into the safety net of his comforter. You stand there for a moment, dumbstruck. Eddie’s can definitely be an ass, but Wayne told you before that Eddie’s friends mean a lot to him.

Leaving Eddie behind in his room, you make your way back to the kitchen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you can hear the boys on the other end having a conversation between them.

“—aybe it’s his girlfriend,” the other boy says teasingly.

“Eddie? With a girl? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Dustin scoffs.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver with a giggle.

“Yes, hi, we’re still here,” Dustin says with urgency.

“Hi, um, so I went to check on him and he says he’s not really feeling up to talking today.”

“Oh, okay…” Your heart aches hearing the disappointment in the boy’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Try again tomorrow, okay? Maybe a little earlier. I think his medicine makes him sleepy.”

“Alright, will do,” Dustin perks up. “Thank you ma’am.” 

You give him your name before giving your goodbyes.

Dustin and Mike call every day for the next 4 days. One time with their friend Will, who apparently has never met Eddie but wants to meet him so they can all talk about dungeons and dragons. 

You see, Eddie was their dungeon master in their high school club, which also includes the guys in Eddie’s band. All of them have been playing a new campaign, and they want to give Eddie all the details of their first get together without him.

All of this you have learned against your will, mostly because every time Eddie turns down their phone call, you can’ help but lend an ear when they get going. And, boy, do they get going.

“So we told Will to cast a fireball, but he wanted to save his spell slot and—”

“What's a spell slot?” You sit at the dining room table, flipping through a car magazine Wayne left sitting out.

“It’s, like, the amount of spells you’re allowed to use per day in the game.”

“Ooooh, so he only gets so many?”

“Correct.”

“Well, then yeah it would make sense that he would want to conserve them.”

“See,” Mike stresses from the other end of the line, “She doesn’t even play and she gets it! Quit picking on Will! It’s not like we lost anyway.”

“Yeah, but we would have gotten through the hoard a lot quicker if he had at least tried.”

The sound of Eddie’s bell pulls you from the boys’ banter. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you say, placing the phone down on the table. 

Sprinting down the hall, you knock quickly before entering the room. Eddie still doesn’t call for you often, so when he does you can't help but worry a bit. “Everything okay—oh shit!” 

Instead of hiding under his covers, Eddie sits back against the headboard of the hospital bed. His covers have all been kicked to the floor and the middle of his bed sheet is drenched. Upon further inspection, you see that his shirt and boxers are soaked as well. 

“Eddie, what happened?”

“What does it look like?!” His tone is full of frustration. “I dropped my fucking cup and the lid popped off and spilled all over the place!”

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly, “I can fix this. Why don’t you get in your chair and I’ll strip the bed?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbled, face wincing in pain as he slowly moved his body to sit on the edge of the bed. You moved to the side of the bed and offered a helping hand, which he ignored but at least you tried. Once he was properly sitting on the edge, you grabbed his chair and positioned it before raising the bed. 

“Okay, just put your hands on my shoulders…” you start, instructing him like you would one of your patients. “And I’ll just—“ 

Your hands hover for a moment as you fully process that he is only wearing boxers. Wet boxers that, when in close proximity, don’t leave much to the imagination when left wet and sticking to his body.

Not wanting to let your eyes wander, you preoccupy yourself by placing your hands on his hips and grabbing the hem of his undergarment. 

“On the count of three, we’ll pivot. Ready?”

Eddie gives you a nod, placing his hands on your shoulders and holding tightly. You keep your eyes on his foot as you count down, shifting him into his chair in one swift motion. He grunts as he gets adjusted in the chair, a little winded from all the movement. 

“You good?” You ask, taking a step back. 

“I’ll live,” he says with cynicism. 

“You better. Won't look good on me if you die on my watch.

It’s fleeting, but you swear that you see the corner of his lips curl up into a smile before he turns away from you. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, “I’m gonna get in the shower.”

You perk up at his declaration. “Really? Okay! Let me go hang up with Dustin and the guys and I’ll get my stuff for you.”

Eddie’s hair flies everywhere with the way his head snaps in your direction. His head bows, eyes squinting as he speaks, “What do you mean hang up with Dustin and the guys…?”

“Oh, they called again so I was talking to them.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been talking to my friends on my phone…?”

“Well you’re not doing it,” you shrug. “They were just telling me about the game you guys play, I guess Will didn’t cast a flameball because he wanted to save one of his slots or something—“

“Okay, first of all, it’s fireball, not flameball. And second, why the hell are they telling you about this stuff? Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Sorry, fireball,” you apologize with sarcasm. “And, they would be telling you all of this if you would just talk to them.”

His face scrunches up, head shaking before he turns away from you completely. You notice for the first time that he pushes the wheels with the palms of his hands rather than using his fingers to grip them. Having helped set up his dinner for him a few times, you’ve seen that with the tissue damage to his right hand that he doesn’t have much mobility in it. 

The temptation to offer some physical therapy for it sits in your mind. But, you’re not sure how he would react to your offer, so you’ll hold off until you can chip away at him a little more. He pushes himself slowly into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. With a sigh you leave him be and go to hang up the call with the boys. 

After grabbing new bed sheets, you reenter Eddie’s room and begin to strip his bed, piling everything onto the floor. You're about to take off the pillow cases when a sudden clatter has you rushing to the bathroom door. 

Pushing it open, you peer inside to see Eddie sitting at the sink. From what you can see of his reflection, it looks like he’s trying to shave the scruffy, uneven hair that's grown on the non scarred parts of his face. 

“You’re quick, huh?” He comments as he reaches into the sink for his electric razor. 

“Well, can’t blame me after the other day, can you?” You tease, referring to his fall last week. He doesn’t respond and turns the razor back on to continue shaving. 

As you stand there and watch him, your words come out like word vomit. “You look good like that.”

His eyes flick to meet yours in the reflection in the mirror. “What's that supposed to mean?” He asks with a clipped tone.

“It means what I said.” 

And you could leave it at that. You often wonder if he had been bullied even before his scarring with how often he questions any praise you throw at him. But, instead you decide that doubling down and talking more is the proper thing to do. “You look very nice clean shaven. Very handsome.”

Big, brown eyes blink slowly at you. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up for you before now. I’ll do my best to make myself easier to look at from here on out.” He gives you that same tight lipped smile that you’ve begun to notice whenever he gets an attitude like this.

Your jaw drops and you scoff. “Eddie, that is not what I meant and you know—” He cuts you off by turning on the razor again, the loud buzz muffling your words as it echoes off the bathroom walls. 

Your shoulders slump in defeat. You want to just turn tail and take care of his bed, but decide to get the bathroom set up for him while you’re in there. You place towels on the floor and on his shower chair, leave a couple of washcloths on the built-in handrail, and set the shower head down so that everything is within reach for him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot—“ You were expecting Eddie to still be fidgeting at the sink, too preoccupied with setting things up for him to notice that he was watching you run around his bathroom with amusement. 

“I, um…” his unmoving glare was tense, making you feel like you were being evaluated. “I brought some stuff for your hair to, uh, help with the knots and stuff. Let me go grab them for you.”

The first step you take is slow, expecting some form of protest from him. But, when he remains silent you rush through the door and across the hall to grab the supplies you’ve stowed away in it. Detangler, a pick comb, and some shampoo and conditioner that should help with the curls. 

With full arms you reenter Eddie’s bathroom. He’s moved closer to the shower’s edge and looks to be in the process of removing his shirt on his own. The limited mobility along with the tightness of his scars make it difficult for him to move his arms up above his head, but his stubborn ass seems to be a glutton for punishment.

“Here,” you say, setting everything on the shower shelf. Tugging his shirt up for him, his head disappears inside of the shirt and his fluff of hair reappears as you pull it off completely. You still can't get over how his back is almost completely void of scars when compared to the rest of body. 

“Thanks,” he says without much thought. You hum in return, tossing the shirt on top of his bed.

“Anything else I can help you with?” 

No response. You look back at him and see that he’s completely still. “Everything okay?” You ask, noticing the troubled look on his face as you round his chair. 

“I…” he says quietly, eyes concentrated on the tiles on the floor, “I can’t stand up on my own and take my underwear off…”

Oh.

At this point in your schooling, seeing someone naked wouldn’t normally bother you after all of the saggy boobs and flat butts you’ve washed during your nursing assistant training. It’s a necessary skill to be able to detach the naked body from inherent sexuality in the medical field. 

And Eddie’s body shouldn’t be any different. Just because he’s close to you in age doesn’t make him any different from your previous patients. So why is your face heating up thinking about it?

“I-I see,” you say, trying to not sound as flustered as you are. “Let me think…Oh! Why don't we get you on the seat, we’ll lay a towel across your lap, and then you can shimmy your boxers off under them?”

Eddie mulls it over for a moment before reluctantly shaking his head. You move in front of him to get into position and make another quick transfer onto the shower chair. Eddie hisses in pain next to your ear, most likely due to the stiff plastic of the seat that he’s not used to pushing into his back and butt. 

Placing a towel over his lap, you stand by as he wordlessly slips his hands under it and begins rocking back and forth. You keep your eyes above chest level, not wanting to look away in case he were to start to fall. 

“Shit!” Eddie says, making you look down instinctively. The towel must have caught on his boxers as he was pulling them down, and you watched in slow motion as the towel slipped lower, getting dangerously close to exposing him. 

Thinking quickly, you grab for the towel and hold it up against his skin. Eddie’s hands flail as he tries to get them out from under it as fast as he can. His boxers fall unceremoniously off his thigh and pool around his single ankle. The two of you stare at them, then at your hand that is pressed firmly into his lower abdomen. You have a firm hold on the towel, your hand the only thing keeping it from joining the dark blue boxers on the shower tile as it’s fully fallen off of his lap, draped down to cover his…

…is that his…against the heel of your palm?

Pushing back the inappropriate thoughts starting to form in your mind, you grab the ends of the towel and lay them on Eddie’s lap again. He doesn’t say anything as his hands do their best to hold the fabric in place as you adjust it. You’re almost afraid to look up at him, not wanting to acknowledge that you may or may not have accidentally grabbed your patient by the dick.

“Okay,” you say with as steady of a voice as you can muster, “I think you should be good now. You grab his boxers from around his ankle and quickly make your exit from the shower, pulling the curtain behind you. “Just shout if you need me!”

The hard spray of the shower turning on is the only response you get.

“Ow!”

“Eddie, if you want me to comb out these knots you’re going to have to complain less.”

“I can’t help I have a tender scalp now.”

“Now?”

You can see Eddie’s scrunched up expression in the mirror’s reflection as you spray detangler into his curls. The conditioner had done quite a bit of loosening of his tangles and mats, but there was still a fair bit that needed to be combed out.

“Yes, now. I used to be able to just take a brush through it at the end of the day and be fine. But no one really took care of it when I was in the hospital.”

“Wayne never tried to do anything with it?”

Eddie gives you an annoyed look in the mirror. “You’ve seen my uncle, right? He’s not exactly the person I would go to for my hair care advice.” The shine that comes from the head of the older Munson is definitely prominent. 

“What about the nurses?” You ask as you comb through another successfully detangled section of his hair. He doesn’t respond right away, a distant look in his eyes as he stares at his own reflection.

“No, they couldn’t help me either.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t mind doing your hair for you. My best friend is a hair stylist and can give me some tips to help you keep it manageable after my time with you is done, too.”

“What do you mean after your time is done?” He asks after a moment.

You tilt your head at him. “Like when my volunteering program is done? I think it goes until the end of the semester. So like the first or second week of December.”

“You’re a volunteer?” There was an angry lit to his tone.

“Y-yeah? I’m sorry I thought you knew—”

“No, I thought…I thought my uncle was paying you to be here.”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m doing this as part of my schooling. My class is working with the VisitingAngels to get more help in Hawkins. It’s totally free and I don’t make any money, just some extra credit for school.”

Eddie’s face changes as he processes your words, before visibility softening as he looks at you. “Well, I guess you must have pulled the short straw to get stuck with me then.”

There was a complete change in his attitude all of the sudden. The normal agitation in his voice was gone, making his statement sound lighter than anything he’s ever said to you before.

“I picked you.”

His eyes meet yours, dumbfounded. 

“Well, kind of,” you start. “Sa—I mean, they told me that you were a…special case. A lot of information was redacted in your sheet, and, well, you know, with everything else…”

“I’m sure I wasn’t anyone else’s first choice.”

“But, I didn’t think that was fair, so I said I would take care of you. Glad I did, even if you give me more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you laugh as you continue to work through his hair. 

Your lower back ached as you climbed out of your car. School was out for teacher’s meetings so you switched with a coworker to have all of Saturday off. Sam asked to take you to the movies for your second date and you both decided to do ice cream after so you wanted to be able to sleep in and lessen the chance of falling asleep during the movie. But you paid the price today, forgetting that your coworker is normally the one who puts inventory away. 

“Hey there, little lady,” Wayne says as he walks out from the backyard. It’s not as hot as it had been, colder weather on the horizon as September was coming to a close, but the older man had a dark gray ring of sweat around the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, Wayne,” you waved to him with a smile. “Getting some last minute yard work done before the rain comes in?”

“Yeah, wanna get this grass seed down so come spring it’ll start to grow. Tired of havin’ta clean mud off m’truck all the damn time.”

“Do you need any help? I used to work all summer in the garden with my grandma as a kid. I’m sure I still have a little bit of green left in these thumbs.”

Wayne’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, the lines looking deep with age. “That’s alright darlin’, I’m done for the day. Preciate ya askin’. Better get inside and get ready fer work.”

You follow him into the house where you’re met with the sound of heavy metal all throughout. You look at Wayne confused, but he just shakes his head and starts heading down the hallway. He pushes Eddie’s door open and your hands fly to your ears with how much louder the music gets before it abruptly stops. 

“What the hell, Wayne!” You hear Eddie whine. 

“Look, I get you’re excited kid but I don’t think your Uncle Ben would appreciate you using his gift to make yourself go deaf.”

“Uncle Ben?” 

Both pairs of Munson eyes land on where you stand in the doorway. They look as if they’ve been caught and you wonder if you should have stayed in the living room. 

“Sorry, I—“

“No, it’s fine,” Wayne says, giving Eddie a look. “Ben is a friend of mine. S’known Eddie since I got custody of em and Eddie’s just always called em Uncle ever since.”

“Oh okay,” is all you said. It seemed like such a normal thing, but the sketchy way they were acting made you not want to press further. “I guess you must have gotten a new toy then, huh?”

Sitting where Eddie’s nightstand was is a cabinet stereo system, decked out with a record player on top and shelves to put cassettes and records underneath. You couldn’t say for sure but it looked brand new, either way it would have cost Uncle Ben a pretty penny to buy it. 

“Yeah,” he says with an airy giggle, the empty cassette in his hands. It catches you off guard to hear him so excited, and when you look up at him, you have to do a double take. 

He’s smiling. 

For the first time in the two months that you’ve been taking care of him, he’s genuinely smiling. 

“Who are you listening to?” You ask, leaning in to get a better look at the case. 

“Megadeth,” he says with a grizzly voice, nodding his head to a song in his mind. 

“Ooohhh cool,” you say with genuine fascination. “I’ve heard of them but I’ve not actually sat and listened to them.”

Eddie’s hair flies as he looks up at you with a quirked brow. “You’ve heard of them?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think the record store where I live has been playing them though. They’re putting a new album out or something.”

“Yes! This!” He says, shaking the cassette in his hands. “It came out two weeks ago. I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to hear it.”

  “And you better give Uncle Ben a nice thank you card for it. I wondered what he’d been picking up so much over time for.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, do my best to do that.”

“So, Eddie, what other music do you like?” You ask, wanting to give him a distraction before he slips into a bad place. His ears perk up at your question and the look he gives you makes you feel like you’re going to be standing there with him for a while. 

And you did. Long enough that Wayne was able to take a shower and get his lunch ready for work. By the time he came in to let you know he was leaving, he figured he’d find you looking bored to death and shuffling awkwardly as his nephew droned on about his music knowledge. 

But, what he found instead was you sitting in Eddie’s chair, leaning into him intently as he animatedly speaks about whatever band he’s gotten started on. Wayne knows how Eddie can get once he gets started. But you don’t look bored at all like he probably has at times. 

In fact, Wayne would dare to say you have a bit of a sparkle in your eyes as you gaze up at his nephew. 

“Hey, kids, I’m heading out,” he calls into the room, grabbing both of your attentions instantly.

“What?” You ask, turning to look back at the clock on the dresser. “Oh my god, it’s been an hour and a half already? Eddie, you still need to eat dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne waves a hand, “I have a pizza on its way.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie looks at Wayne with a pinched brow. “You gave someone our address?”

“Boy, just trust me, okay? You know I wouldn't let just anybody bring a pizza to this house.”

Your mind instantly goes to Hopper. You’ve heard Wayne and Eddie talk about him before a handful of times but you’ve never actually seen him. He’s brought things to the house for Eddie before when you’ve not been there, leaving you very curious about him.

“Okay, if you say so.” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. 

Right on que, a knock raps against the door with a rapid urgency. It makes you jump, something the younger Munson notices but doesn’t comment on.

“That must be the delivery boys,” Wayne says with a sly smile before leaving the room. Eddie looks at you with a quirked brow, wording ‘boys?’ at you with confusion. 

As you go to inspect what Wayne is up to, you hear the loud voices of boys as they begin to file into the house. The entryway fills with 6 or 7 bodies of all different ages and sizes, all of them wearing the same baseball style tee shirt with a red devil face on the front. 

“Hellfire…” you say to yourself, reading the shirts before letting out a gasp. Your feet carry you down the hall where you look amongst the group.

“Bring the pizza in here boys,” hear Wayne say from the kitchen, “Jeff and Grant, come n’help me get this table setup for ya.”

You watch as two of the older boys go into the kitchen followed by the one still carrying the pizza, leaving the younger ones to finish kicking off their shoes. One of them finally notices you and straightens before turning to grab the shirt of a taller boy behind him. 

“Oh shit, it’s you!” You recognize his voice. Mike Wheeler shoves another boy with curly hair next to him, who curses and turns to face you as well. He says your name like it’s a question, sussing you out before getting excited.

“In the flesh,” you say, gesturing towards yourself. 

“Hell yeah,” he says in his giggly voice. “We didn’t know if you were gonna be here or not.”

“I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here at all!”

“What really?” Mike says with a scrunched nose.

“That would be cause’a me.” Wayne leans through the threshold, that sly smile still on his face. “I didn’t tell ya in case ya told Ed. Sorry, hope this is alright. Dustin told me he’d been callin’ and that Eddie wouldn’t talk to em, so I figured he couldn’t ignore em if they was already here.”

Eddie’s bell rings from his room, and Eddie and Mike visibly perk up.

“Is that him?” Dustin asks excitedly.

“Yeah, he’s back in his room. Come on,” you say as you turn on your heel. Giddy with excitement, you couldn’t wait to see Eddie’s face when he got to see his friends. Them being here on top of getting his stereo system? It’s almost like it’s…his…

“Is today Eddie’s birthday?” You quickly stop to face the boys that had followed you down the hall, causing them to almost run into you. 

“What, no?” Dustin says confused, “His birthday’s not til May.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Okay good. Sorry, he’s right in here—”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eddie’s slightly strained voice called from the other side of the door. You could hear a tinge of panic in his tone, and it hit you that all he could hear was loud noise with no context while he’s stuck in his bed.

“Wait right—”

“EDDIEEEEEEEE!” Dustin shouts, stepping past you and pushing the bedroom door open. Mike follows behind and the quiet boy with him gives a soft sorry as he files in behind him.

“Wait, where’s that bastard at?!” The older boys come running out of the kitchen, pushing each other until they stumble into Eddie’s room as well. 

Eddie’s bed has a living wall around it, bodies blocking your ability to see his face. Before you can go in to check on him, Wayne calls for you from down the hall, a pizza crust in his hand. 

“Hey, he didn’t get his pain meds for the night yet. Figured he would be too tired and end up being grumpy by the time they got here, so I held off on it. Obviously if he needs em he can have him, but he seemed pretty distracted with his cassette to notice any pain.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say with a nod. “I’ll probably have him take them after they eat with his other meds.” You pause for a moment, putting a hand on Wayne’s arm. “If I had to take a guess, he’s probably going to be grumpy anyway, but…he’ll thank you for it eventually.” 

He gives you a nod before gathering his lunch and heading out for the night. A chorus of guffaws from down the hall had your interest piqued. But, as you made it to the doorway, you felt like your stomach was in your throat as you watched the boys trying to get Eddie into his wheelchair, one arm around the shoulders of two of his friends while another was holding onto his ankle.

“Woah, woah, pump the brakes there guys,” you say running to them. The boys all look at you collectively, then look to Eddie. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine!” Eddie laughs. His eyes were creased from how hard he was smiling and his laugh filled you with a fluffy feeling. 

“I can tell you’re fine, but I don’t want you to get hurt and have to send these guys home.” Just as quickly as they had tried to lift him, they sat him gently back down so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Sorry to be the party pooper, but once he’s in the chair he’s free game.”

“So, are you gonna introduce us or what, dude?” One of the boys finally asks as you get Eddie situated to put in his chair. He lets out a sigh, avoiding your eyes, saying your name to the group of boys. “She’s my…caretaker.” There was a bit of hesitation in that last word, but you ignored it. 

He said your name again as if speaking to you this time, “This is the Hellfire Club. I guess you know Dustin, Mike, and Will already,” he says gesturing to the three younger boys who all wave and smile in their own way. “And these boneheads double as my old band members; Jeff, Grant, and Gareth.” The older guys nod and give their hellos, still giving Eddie a knowing look.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Finally.” Eddie gives you a deadpanned look before you lift him to pivot in his chair, making you almost fall into him as you do. He plops in his chair and unlocks it, and you step aside so that he can back away from the bed. 

“Oh, let me push you!”

“No, I wanna push him!”

You roll your eyes, and watch as the boys file out of Eddie’s room and into the hallway.

“Man, we really need to get you some decorations for your room,” the last boy calls as he looks around. That gives you an idea, and you grab the one named Gareth by the arm. He looks at you with wild eyes, standing nervously in front of you. “W-whats up?” He attempts to ask with a slight shake in his voice.

“What kind of things does he like?” You ask the nervous boy, looking him straight in the eye.

“W-what?”

“For his room. I want to get him some things but don’t know what to be looking for when I’m out.”

“Oh, um…He likes metal music. And he used to have a bunch of band shirts. Mostly Black Sabbath, Dio, Metallica…But he also likes Dungeons and Dragons. But I guess that’s obvious. Oh, and The Hobbit series.”

“Like Lord of the Rings?” You ask. 

He nods, “Yeah. He carried a copy of The Hobbit with him everywhere. It was practically falling apart, b-but he loved it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you think. “Thank you, Gareth,” you say, and he takes that as the OK for him to go, sprinting out the bedroom door.

“Oh, man, dude,” Dustin says from the table, mouth full of pizza “Wait until you see what Jeff’s got planned.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, “Jeff has been keeping us on our toes. We’ll definitely need your help to get through this session.”

“I don’t know,” Jeff says, loading his plate with pizza and cheesy bread, “what I have on the agenda for tonight might be the end for this group of folly.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jeff. Just because I’ve been out of commission doesn’t mean that I don’t know all the tricks in the book.” Eddie says from his spot on the table. 

You maneuver around the boys as they get their plates and drinks. Someone had already gotten Eddie a plate and a cup full of a fizzy drink, which, thankfully, was way too dark to be one of the beers that you see sitting on the counter. It was in a regular solo cup though.

“Eddie,” you call from across the counter, and he looks up at you carefully. “Do you want a straw?” You ask, opening the counter above you. Looking out of the corner of your eyes, you see the boys have stopped talking, eyes looking everywhere except for Eddie as if trying to gauge his reaction but not make it obvious.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Um, yes, please.” He says quietly, hands in his lap as he leans in to look at the paper sitting in front of him. Grant sits on one side of him, leaning in and pointing out something about his character sheet which in turn breaks the silence among the table. 

When you round the table to bring his straw, you place it in his cup and he gives you a quiet thanks again. You nod, but can’t help to notice that he hasn’t eaten any of his pizza. 

Not wanting to draw too much attention to him again, you lean into his ear with a low voice. “Do you need me to cut up your pizza?” He doesn’t move at first, but subtly shakes his head enough for you to notice. You take your lip between your teeth and nod, backing away.

Once their game gets going, you grab your pizza and head into the living room, putting on your headphones and cracking open your textbook. You can’t help but look over at the table for every loud noise that they made, which was a lot, but you didn’t want to be too distracted in case Eddie needed you.

Things seemed like they were going well, until out of the corner of your eye you saw Grant jump up from his seat looking down between him and Eddie. The paper plate and Eddie’s pizza slice were both face down on the floor. You pulled your headphones off quickly, scrambling to your feet to clean the mess.

“Woah,” Grant says when you appear from behind him. “I can get it. It’s no biggie.”

Eddie’s face looked forlorn, still staring down at the place where Grant was wiping the red sauce with a paper towel. 

“Let me get you another slice,” Dustin said, rising from his seat.

“No,” Eddie said, voice almost panicked. “It’s fine, I don’t—I don’t need any.” 

“You barely even got to eat this piece,” Grant said with a questioning tone as he tossed the dirty piece away. 

“I’m getting you another piece.”

“Eddie.”

His panicked eyes met yours, and you could see the breakdown bubbling inside of him. His head was shaking, mouth opening and closing but the words weren’t coming out. Tears rolled down his cheeks. You’d never seen him get this upset before. 

You put a hand on either cheek and made him focus on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. No one here is upset with you. It’s just a slice of pizza. There’s, like, two more whole pizza’s over there. Dustin is going to get you another piece. Do you want me to cut it up for you? You should be able to pick up the smaller pieces.” He looks between your eyes before nodding finally. You give him a reassuring smile and take your hands from his face. 

“I’ll get you a refill, too,” you say, ignoring the tension in the room and continuing on like nothing happened. Dustin handed you the new plate when you walked by, trading it for the cup you had to refill. Grant took his place back next to Eddie and the table started to talk again. 

“Here you go,” Dustin says, reaching across the table to set Eddie’s drink back in front of him. “And here is an extra cup to roll your dice in.” You watch Eddie eye the cup before pinching it between his fingers. He gives a small thanks and the table moves on, becoming so engrossed in the game once again that no one even notices when you place the new plate on the table. Eddie mindlessly picks at the cut pieces as Jeff gives a speech about a cave having a hoard of something inside of it.

A hand waves in front of your face, pulling your attention from the textbook. When you look up, you see Dustin, Mike and Will peering over you. And out of the corner of your eye you see Jeff, Grant, and Gareth pushing Eddie’s chair down the hall.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, pulling your headphones down and around your neck. 

“Bathroom break!” Gareth shouts.

“Do you need my help?” You call back.

“Nope!”

These boys are going to kill you.

“What are you studying for?” Will turns his head to try and see the contents of your book.

“Oh, this is my medical terminology book. I’m in nursing school.” The three boys give a collective ‘ooooohh’ that makes you laugh. “It’s pretty interesting, but I don’t think you guys would like it all that much.”

“Hey, we like science stuff,” Dustin says.

“Yeah, he goes to a science camp every summer.”

“To see my girlfriend!”

“Yeah that’s totally the only reason,” Will chimes in with a roll of his eyes.

“Wow, Dustin has a science camp girlfriend, huh?” You say teasingly.

“She’s not just my science camp girlfriend. I talk to her on my ham radio, too. She lives in a different state.”

“And she’s Mormon.”

“Yeah, her dad doesn’t like us talking so we have to be sneaky. Mike has a girlfriend, too.”

“Does she also live in another state where she can only be accessed via radio?”

“No, she lives with Will just a little bit away from here,” Mike says, jutting his thumb back at Will. You tilt your head at the boys, confused as to what they mean.

“How far is a little bit?” You ask.

“Like, I don’t know, five—ten minutes by car?” Mike says looking at Will and Dustin who nod in agreement. “El—I mean Jane’s dad is Chief Hopper. And he’s dating Will’s mom. They live in a house that they built out here.”

Every sentence was like whiplash. That would explain why Wayne asks the chief to come out here. It would be easier if he’s so close by to come and check on Eddie. But, obviously he has a family so he can’t be here all the time. 

“Back from the bathroom! No one died!” Gareth shouts as Grant and Jeff push Eddie back into the dining room. The three younger boys rush back into the dinning room as well taking their places at the table once again.

It was almost pitch black dark when you opened your eyes, the only light coming from the clock on the stove. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. When did you fall asleep? And who put this blanket on you?

You could make out your textbook on the coffee table, and when you looked around, it seemed like the boys had cleaned up and put the table back against the wall. You jumped up from your seat suddenly, about to take off down the hall to check on Eddie when a voice from beside you made you scream.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie shouted in reaction to your shriek. You pulled the lamp cord on the table next to you and the room was lit with a low light. Eddie’s form came into focus where he sat in the recliner, eyes squinting from the brightness.

“What the hell, Eddie!” You whisper shout. “Why are you out here and not in bed?”

“I…” he stuttered, “I didn’t know if you’d hear me if I needed you. So, I just had the guys put me here. That’s all.”

You blink at him, not awake enough to fully understand, but also not fully awake enough to argue. Rubbing the sleepies from your eyes, you look at him better. He looked like he had gotten a clean set of clothes on and even had his drinking cup next to him in the chair. 

“Guess they got you set up pretty good, huh?”

He nods, shimmying in the chair as he gets settled again.

“Eddie?” He looks over at you, puzzled. “Why were you so against seeing them? Or even just talking to them? They seemed really happy to see you.” Eddie turned away from you and was quiet for several moments. He took a deep breath in and sighed.

“I was…Some of them…Some of them haven’t…seen me since…since before…” His voice was shaky. You were about to tell him that he didn’t have to explain himself, but he kept going, voice leveling out a bit when he cleared it.

“Dustin, he was there. One of the ones who…found me. But the rest of them, they haven’t seen me since before break. Since before…everything happened. And none of them have seen me like this. I’ve changed so much that…I was worried they would see me and freak out. I don’t think I could have handled that.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t seem too bothered by any of your changes. They’re a good group of friends.” Eddie nods in agreement. “Did you guys have a good time?” A big, cheesy smile spreads across Eddie's face.

“Yeah, we did. Totally kicked Jeff’s monster hoard’s asses,” he said with a laugh.

“What time did everyone leave?” You ask, looking at the clock where it reads 3am. Thank god you switched shifts.

“Dustin, Mike, and Will all left around 10:30 or 11. Hopper came and picked them up. Guess they’re all staying at Mike’s.”

You let out an exasperated grunt, throwing your head back onto the couch.

“What was that?” Eddie laughs at your dramatics.

“I missed Hopper, again! I’ve been hearing about this guy but haven’t seen him yet!”

Eddie snorts, “You’re not really missing much. He’s just this really tall dude with a bunch of scars now from being imprisoned by the Russians.”

You look at him with shock. “He was what?”

Eddie shakes his head, “After they left, my other friends stayed until like one. We talked outside for a bit. They said they want to start coming here to do Hellfire meetings every other Friday, but I told them I’d have to ask you first.”

“Why do you have to ask me?” You look at him with a furrowed brow. “If you have to ask anyone it would be Wayne.”

“I know you like to study and stuff, and I don’t want them to be a distraction for you while they’re here. Or for you to have to worry about me or whatever.”

“Oh, well, that’s really thoughtful of you Eddie. But I’m okay. If I really need to study, I’ll just go sit in your room or something.”

He nods his head, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Did you guys talk about anything else?”

Your words caught him off guard, you can tell by the blanched look on his face.

“Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I thought it was pretty boring,” Sam said, taking a bite from the sundae he’d ordered for the two of you to split. You couldn’t decide what you wanted, so he ordered it as a way to get a little bit of everything. It was huge, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to eat it alone.

“I wouldn’t know considering you had my attention most of the movie,” you said, referring to all the stolen kisses and brief make out sessions that kept you pulled from paying attention to what you were watching. The movie was kind of boring, though, so you really couldn’t complain.

“That was my way of saving your sanity,” he says with a smirk.

“My hero,” you say with a roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, hey you got something—”

“Oh, what—”

“It’s right there,” he says pointing at your lip, “like a little hot fudge or something.”

“Did I get it?” You ask, licking your lips where he pointed.

“No, no. Here let me—” His hand cradles your face and he plants another kiss on your lips, making you squeal and giggle at his antics.

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” you say when you pull away. He looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes for a moment, before looking down with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I just really like doing that.”

“What, being a dork?”

“No, kissing you,” he says seriously, “It’s nice. You’re nice.”

Heat hits your cheeks at his words. Sam has been nothing but a gentleman to you since you met. Sometimes he comes out to your car and will walk with you to your class, carrying your books for you the whole way. Other days you’ll bring him a coffee to his office when you’ve had time to stop in the mornings. 

He’s always asking questions about you, and he genuinely seems interested when you talk about yourself, not tuning out like some guys do when a girl talks about themselves. 

And when you ask questions about him he always seems to have an interesting answer. Whether it’s about his well off parents who have a summer home in Scottsdale or how he played varsity football for his high school, there was always a story within a story for him to tell you all the details about. 

You did have to admit though, that, yes, he was really nice and interesting, but maybe he really wasn’t your type? Tonya told you that it’s just your brain’s way of telling you that you can’t have anything nice. But, you just…can’t quite put a finger on it.

Still, it wasn’t enough to turn down a third date.

thank you for reading.

#eddie munson #eddie munson st #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson lives #eddie lives #eddie stranger things #disabled!eddie #canon divergent #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x nurse!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic #make me better #mmb #mmb!eddie

[itsgrimeytime]

when someone yells at you... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

"That was all your goddamn fault!"

And maybe it was just because you were tired, but something in you agreed with him -you knew you could do better than this.

"Look, okay, I'm sorry-" you tried -something weak and shaky in your tone (you were exhausted and all they were saying was making all of the noise in your head louder), "-I never meant to-"

"Fuck that," he hissed, "-you almost got us all killed with that fucking mistake. Don't you get that?!"

"It was just-" you started, slowly -words trying to come out properly.

"Just shut the fu-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?" a voice boomed -southern drawl emphasized and tone unshaken: Rick Grimes.

He stepped in between the two of you.

You were exhausted, hands coming up to rub at your temples. Eyes were getting a little foggy and your lip was trembling, you couldn't falter. It could only make you lose respect in the grand scheme of things. You took a deep breath in.

"'Ey fucked up the whole run," the person explained, and you shrunk into yourself more, "-gave one wrong order, and fucking Nancy almost bit the goddamn bullet, Rick."

Rick just stared at him -something heavy in his gaze.

"You must not know shit 'bout this world," Rick scoffed, and you could see the slow steps of him approaching the man -you couldn't even remember his name, "-but every win 'ere's a hundred damn loses. Judgin' one person for a mistake, ya see, just ain't fuckin' wise."

"Somebody almost died, Rick," the man countered, "-don't you care about your people? Or have you lost that side of yourself too?"

Rick rushed forward then, grabbing the guy by his collar and raising him into the air. Your heart jolted into your throat.

"I'll feed you to the fuckin' walkers if ya keep talkin' like that."

The man seemed to falter, but you saw a gleam in Rick's eye. A dangerous gleam.

The group was already rocky as is, Rick didn't need to lose any respect. He didn't need to string out the dynamic further. One move and it'd tip.

"Rick," you insisted -hands wringing out in front of your chest, and his eyes almost immediately flashed to you, "-it's not worth it."

He seemed to lighten then, scanning over you. Maybe taking in your hands, or your hunched shoulders, or your blurry eyes. It was like his priorities switched, completely focused on you.

He let out a long sigh, dropping the man to the ground -he fumbled a little with his footing, "'Ey saved your life, remember 'at."

The man seemed shaken, swallowing thickly and blinking like he was trying to center himself. Rick merely focused entirely on you, heavy footfall bringing him right in front of you.

"Ya okay?" He spoke, soft and sweet -such a drastic difference from before that it made your head spin a little.

"I'm..." you echoed out, a little pathetically, "-I'm just exhausted, and being berated at like that doesn't really help."

Rick frowned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you elsewhere -voice low just for you, "C'mon, let's talk somewhere else."

"I'm just tired," you offered but it was weak, and he didn't seem at all moved by it, or even convinced.

He pulled you into his house, off the Alexandria streets -it was strangely empty. No Judith or Carl, and you briefly wondered where they were.

"Sit," he motioned to the couch.

You paused for a moment, "Rick, you don't have to do this-"

"Sit," he repeated.

You silently found yourself a spot, leaning into the arm of it -Rick joined you, barely a breath away. You weren't sure how to react. You were never really sure with Rick.

"If anybody pulls 'at shit again," he suddenly said -blue eyes solid as steel, "-you tell me, okay?"

"Rick-"

"No," he spoke, so solidly it made your voice stutter to a stop, "-nobody talks to ya 'at way and fuckin' gets away wit' it. Ya hear me?"

"Yeah, okay," you responded -softer, "-I get it."

"I don't mean to be-" he paused, turning to you with a much softer glance -blue eyes warm, "-look, Y/N. I really care about ya, and if somebody says shit 'bout you. They might as well be sayin' shit 'bout me."

"They weren't talking shit, Rick," you exhaled, and something in your voice shook, "-I fucked up. Bad."

"'At's not-" he sighed, scooting closer to you and with a solid breath taking your hand in his, "-Everybody fucks up, ain't no reason to dwell on it. Ain't no reason to yell 'bout it like he was."

"He just got scared."

"Everyone's fuckin' scared, sweetheart," he countered, gruff voice in a low whisper, "-Gives 'im no goddamn excuse to yell at ya like 'at."

You frowned, shakingly wiping at your eyes.

"And, 's important to let go of things," he hummed, squeezing his hand around yours, "-ya just gotta remember nobody got hurt. If ya don't, you're only gonna run yourself into the ground."

You were quiet for a moment, eyes swimming over your connected hands thoughtfully. They darted to his, who were already looking at you -something you didn't quite recognize shining in his eyes. There was something there you couldn't quite read -something different. You just did what felt right.

"Thanks," you said quietly -it was all you could say, moving your head to his shoulder.

"Don't-" he hummed, you could feel the grumble in his chest -arm coming to wrap around your side, "-Ya don't 'ave to thank me."

You stayed in the silence of the moment, absorbing the air. All of this... new, it sunk into your skin. Your nose filled with the woodsy scent that you knew to be just Rick, and you had a spare thought.

Maybe this could happen again, but you knew Rick would be there. Maybe that makes it okay. It does... With Rick, it's okay.

"Yeah," you responded -maybe a little fondly, "-I do."

#stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes blurb #twd blurb #twd oneshot #its griming time

[grimesgirll]

"darlin', it's time to go to sleep."

you whine. "but i'm still up. i'm not tired yet," you insist as you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding softly. "don't you wanna go one more time?"

rick gives you a tired smile. "i'd love to sweetheart but i already made you cum three times tonight and you’re still beggin' like this. i think it's just gonna keep you up at this point."

you pout. “no! this is the last time! i promise!”

“well, if you promise,” rick accepts your swear with a kiss and slides his slate gray boxers down to line himself up with your already spent pussy. he pushes up your frilly baby blue fur trimmed nightie just above your hips. you’d found it in a department store and it had been driving him wild ever since.

he pulls you into him as the head of his dick glides through the first few inches of you. your cunt is soaked but only an inch or two more and he’s met with that tight, ring of muscle gripping his cock. your leader groans into your neck, pulling you flush against him until you’re squealing and both your hips are snug together.

“rick!”

“isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes!” you gasp as he picks up the pace and moves in and out of you. “you feel so good.”

“you too, honey,” he grunts into your ear.

you lay back and watch the best you can in the dark as he thrusts in and out of your dripping pussy. his chocolate curls are accented bronze from the dim glow of the outside light from the window.

head against the satin pillow, your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re at your breaking point again. “feel so good, rick,” you manage as you tighten around him.

“shit, baby, happy i can help,” the sheriff huffs as he rearranges your guts.

“so, so good,” you’re babbling as the dam bursts. your legs are numb and you feel light headed enough to see spots but rick is there to bring you right back and fuck you through your orgasm.

“love when you do that, honey,” rick groans, running a hand through your long hair while the other finds your breast. you writhe under him as he plays around with your nipple and cupping your tit. “i know you wanna do it again before you fall asleep, right?”

you nod eagerly. “yes, sir.”

suddenly rick’s lips are on yours again and he’s tapping that spot. your legs start to shake again but you hold on as your leader’s mouth travels south to suck on your nipple.

you cry and hum praises at him through your fucked out haze but he just keeps his warm mouth and a hand on your chest. his free hand goes to your clit to rub tight circles just the way you like it. you gasp into his ear as he tightens his grip on you, dropping a tit to hold your hip and fuck further into you.

“rick, rick,” you stutter.

“feel so good, honey,” rick praises.

his hand finds your breast again and you’re holding onto him for dear life as you get your brains fucked out and every part of your body overstimulated.

it’s no surprise when you cum on his cock, leaving it drenched in the results of an orgasm some people would argue wasn’t real. his dick is slick with you, from the base to the tip as he continues his tirade against your poor pussy. you are surprised that he hasn’t come yet.

“rick…”

“yes, honey?”

“when are you going to sleep?” you ask, nearly dodging kisses on your breasts, your neck, and a tongue down your throat. if only you had the energy.

“when i’m done, honey.”

“can i help?”

rick presses a sweet kiss and a smirk to your shoulder. his sweet girl, always trying to take care of him even when she was so fucked out and on the verge of sleep.

“no, honey. you can go to sleep,” he assures you, pressing another kiss to your temple and slowing the roll of his hips.

“‘kay,” you exhale and settle into the pillow as rick pulls you against his chest, literally fucking you to sleep.

it wouldn’t take him long after you fell asleep to take care of himself and paint your insides white, calm and collected after treating himself to your snug cunt.

with you asleep, he stays in you for a little bit longer before pressing a few more kisses along your neck to ease the feeling of him pulling out of you. he pulls the blanket up the way you like and wraps his arms around you, prepared to have to fight you off in the morning when you inevitably woke up with your lady boner but he didn’t mind. who doesn’t want to start off their day getting their dick wet?

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #twd smut #rick grimes smut #not beta read #grimesgirll #soft somno #p in v sex

[chronically-ghosted]

i crawl home to her

rating: 18+ explicit

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 8.2K

summary: you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

warnings/tags: discussions of food, mentions of weight gain, brief biphobia, bad family dynamics, hiding parts of yourself to make yourself more palatable, dom!Dieter when his type-A girlfriend needs him to, smut in places it shouldn’t be, a family can be two people, bad jokes, mentions of marriage and kids, one light booty smack, peep the super obvious bob's burgers reference, minimal edited, you can pry the image of dieter in ugg's from my cold dead hands

a/n: i've caved and finally added to the evergrowing pile of "Pedro boy fucks you in your childhood home". @sp00kymulderr i told you i'd get it out today -- it might be tomorrow for you, but it's not yet midnight! i present to you part 2 of merry thanksgiving nonsense2023!

🤍Masterlist

You nearly miss the exit off the gray-slushy highway because you’re trying to remember Aunt Gayle’s food allergies. 

And Uncle Rick’s preferred way of taking his coffee in the morning.

And the right detergent to use when washing your niece’s clothes, or else your sister will come after you with a hatchet. 

“Baby, you’re gnawing your fingernails bloody.” 

You blink, surprised to find your hand anywhere near your mouth, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel, and to your enormous embarrassment, he was right – you’d pulled up several hangnails, leaving tiny pink gouges, right under your immaculate holiday nails you got for the express purpose of looking presentable in all the inevitable Insta photos your sister demands every year. 

“Fuck,” you mutter and curl your fingers into your fist as if to hide temptation. From the passenger’s seat, Dieter frowns.

“Twizzler to make it better?” He spins the red, bendy candy enticingly. Your mind suddenly flashes back to the time you both got way too high on his new bong and he made the exact same motions with his dick. You had never laughed so hard in your life. 

The red candy whipping around in a circle, you groan into the steering wheel. 

“I’m turning around. This was a terrible idea.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Dieter half-way laughs. He pulls his Ugg-stuffed feet off the dashboard and sits up. Crumbs from the Starbucks Christmas sugar cookie spill off his “Kris Kingle My Jingle” sweater and onto the seat, but it’s those fucking earnest, curious eyes that always seem to rock your world. You occasionally don’t like to be touched when you’re stressed, so out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand waver before falling back in his lap. “It’s just dinner.” 

“Yeah, but it’s holiday dinner with my family. They’re all so judgy and mean and every time I come home for more than twenty-four hours, I’m reminded exactly why I fucked off to California.”

“Maybe they’re jealous you’re a hot shot director,” Dieter suggests. “Or that you have a ruggedly handsome movie star boyfriend.” Eyebrow raised, he twirls the Twizzler again and manages to bite it out of the air. You half-way expected it to smack him in the face. “They know I’m coming, right?”

You bite your lip, the last phone call with your mother still achingly heavy in your chest.

“You know what she asked when I told her I was bringing home the one and only Dieter Bravo as my boyfriend to meet my family?” You don’t need to look at him to see the furrow in his brow, the slight curve in his shoulders. You prop your elbow up against the window, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. “She asked if it was a career move. If I was dating you to get ahead in the industry . . . like I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

There’s a fraught silence. You listen to the wheels churn dirty black snow so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Then why in the world would you start with my dumb ass?”

Despite yourself and despite what’s coming, you smile. But you fight it, wrapping your lip up between your teeth. So he continues:

“If you really want to make it big, you gotta date someone at least forty years older than you. So, what? We’re talking seventy. But, wow, think of the money. Bet he has his dick dripped in gold just to keep it hard–,”

“Dieter!” You swat at him, smile too big to contain, and he grins, grabbing you by the wrist. “That’s terrible!”

“But I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

You smirk. “Barely. More like ha ha than a big chuckle.” 

He nips your palm, the rough hair on his chin scraping the soft skin. 

By some minor miracle and a forcible act of God, your mother is allowing you two to share a bedroom. Not out of respect for your relationship, of course, but there is simply not enough room to spare. You watch those perfect lips imprint themselves in the cup of your hand and you’ve never been more thrilled to have to share a double bed. God, you cannot be this wet before you have to look your mother in the eye. You retract your hand with a breathy exhale. 

“We don’t have to stay long,” Dieter says, a weight to his gaze that proves he hasn’t completely blown off your concern. He twists his body in the seat and crosses his arms, his shoulder pressed into the seat. He watches you with his head against the headrest. “I hate seeing you like this.” 

“I’m already on thin ice because we’re just staying two days.” You shake your head. “My sister and her family have already been there since Monday and plan to stay the rest of the week.” You inhale, hold, and exhale until you can feel your shoulders drop. “It’s just . . . I’ve worked so hard to make something of my life, to be someone I can be proud of, and it just doesn’t matter to them. They want me to marry a banker or something, and quit my job to do cutesy family blogging on Instagram. They’ve never, ever liked the real me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something come over Dieter’s face. Not annoyance, or irritation, but as if someone kick started his brain. But it passes and he brushes the back of your hand resting over the gearshift with his fingers. 

“I like the real you,” he says quietly. “In fact, I really, really, really like the real you. I gotta keep you around. Who else is gonna remember the name of the best Chinese food place when I’m high?” 

Dieter is sweet, knows the wonders his smile can accomplish, with a twinkle in his eyes. A bit crude, a little distractible, but ultimately, well-meaning. However, he seemed physically incapable of maintaining sincerity. Which in the beginning, was also cute, but now, in a moment of crisis, it was boyish in a way that made you worried. A little scared. Like too much pressure and he’d break.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on? 

History says no. 

So, maybe you’d just carry everything. 

You smile at him and return your hand to the steering wheel.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

The car squeals as it stops in the driveway, wheels crunching the cold ice. You look up at your childhood home with the same unease and trepidation that’s been there since childhood.

“Go let ‘em know we’re here,” Dieter says as he unbuckles his belt. There’s still crumbs in the knit of his sweater. At least his sweatpants are clean. But there’s nothing you can do about those Uggs right now– 

His hand squeezes yours, centering the universe that’s spinning like the inside of a martini shaker. You can feel the weight of his gaze press into your chest – heavy, warm, forgiving. He smiles, then slides into a smirk.

“Chillax, bro. Your vibes are not gnarly.”

You huff, trying to offer a smile that’s not a grimace. This was such a bad idea. Maybe it’s not too late to go pay for one of those mail-order boyfriends and keep Dieter in his nice California, hippie plastic wrap. 

You hear your name being called from the porch and that smile fully plummets into a grimace. Gathering from that reserve of confidence that makes you look at male writers, directors, and (yes) actors and tell them they’re idiots and get the fuck off your set, you open the door and head around the corner to the front of the house. 

Yeah, in the face of your mother, that reserve is basically a trickle.

She’s waiting for you on the porch, red dish towel in hand. 

“I thought that might be you, darling! I’d recognize that squeak from that rust bucket anywhere.” She smiles, arms wide, as you bend down to give her a hug. You've had to bend down to hug your mother for years now and you still feel about two feet tall. “How are you? You’ve been good? You look pale, but you’ve definitely been eating, haven’t you?”

She pinches your cheek as if to show you all the extra fat you have on your face. 

“Where’s Dad?” You try not to look like you’re tearing your face out of her grip and glance into the surprisingly quiet house over her shoulder. “Aren’t Emma and Dan supposed to be here?”

“Your father is out finishing his latest woodworking piece. He’s been at it for days, no matter how much I beg him to help with the food or the house. It’s all on me again to save the holidays.” 

As it is every year.

“Your sister and her family went out to get more sweet potatoes. They eat sweet potatoes in California, don’t they?”

Here it comes.

“Yes, Mom, they eat sweet potatoes.”

“Oh good, I thought it’d be considered a carb.” She frowns, hands on her hips as if you’re about to get a proper scolding. “Now you told me you’re going to be bringing your fancy actor boyfriend. Damian Bravado, right? I cooked for exactly seven people, darling, a single empty chair will throw the whole thing off!”

“Yes, Mom, my boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is here. He’s just in the–,”

Someone, distinctly not your boyfriend, or at least not the boyfriend you left in the car, waltzes up the front steps.

Rings gone.

Earring gone.

Gloves that would make Ryan Gosling seethe with envy covering the tattoo on his hand.

His hair slicked back and curling deliciously around his ears, his dark jeans cover the laces of maroon Timberland boots. His black turtleneck clings to his wide chest, the leather jacket broken in enough to be soft, but not so used there’s tears in the seams. And, to top it all off, his cream-colored scarf curled around his throat looks like it came out of a Hallmark movie.

Maybe you are in a Hallmark movie. Maybe on the way up the porch, you slipped and banged your head and all of this is a bizarre, weirdly-erotic dream. Maybe someone actually did call in a mail-order boyfriend who looks exactly like Dieter and the real one is hog-tied in the trunk of your car. Maybe – 

You’d heard of quick costume changes, but this is ridiculous.

“Debbie!” He calls out, like they’ve been best friends for twenty years. He flourishes a wrapped bouquet of flowers, bright red against the white snow, and hands them to her after bouncing up the steps. His cheeks are tinged pink, as if he’d run the block, but without a drip of sweat on him, he’s simply glowing with what could be presumed as the holiday spirit. 

To your never-ending and horrific surprise, your mother squeals as she takes the flowers. 

“Poinsettias! My –,”

“Favorite, I know.” You stumble out of the way when he leans down and kisses her on her cheek. “And they’re fake, so you can reuse them next year. But you’d never know it at $300 a pop.”

Okay, yes, this is a clone of your boyfriend, a walking holiday Ken doll – Dieter never, ever brags about money. 

“I’m not a banker or anything, but I like to spoil my girls.” 

The bastard winks at you. 

Your mother has turned to gooey, drippy putty in his hands. She’s redder than the hand towel and the poinsettias combined. She flounces, flutters, eyes springing back and forth between the ruby-red flowers in her hands and Dieter’s achingly handsome face – one that hasn’t dimmed that thousand gigawatt smile since he first arrived. 

“Oh, oh my goodness – well, this is just lovely – it’s so nice to finally meet you – I can’t believe she’s been hiding you from us all this time – please, please come in, you must be freezing!”

She backs into the house, still staring at the flowers, then as if she hadn’t been living here for the past fifteen years of her life, she bounces towards the dining room, then on a quick turn, heads for the kitchen, then turns again to the hallway closet. 

“Oh gracious – where did I put – it must be – come in and shut the door behind you – you know where your room is, darling, I’ll be back in just a second, I just have to – ah, these are spectacular –”

A door down the hallway finally swings shut and muffles your mother’s insane rambling. 

So dazed, you don’t see him move until he’s pressed you up against the glass etching of the door, his hand palming your hip and the other diving to cup the back of your neck. He tugs you down into his mouth before you have time to blink.

Jesus Christ, mint? His breath smells like mint??

God, he even fucking kisses like a Hallmark Prince. His mouth pulls you into him and your brain whites out – careless of the little whimper you make, careless of the fact that literally any one of your family members could walk in right now, careless that you’re teetering into him as if on string. Your breath flutters down his throat and he huffs through his nose. The tips of his fingers are chilly enough that you shiver at his touch.

He edges the bottom of your lip with his tongue before pulling back and tightening his grip in your hair. 

And there’s that Dieter smirk you are all too intimately familiar with. 

“How’m I doing?” He mutters. His gaze flickers between your eyes, your nose, and your kissed-pink lips. “I’d say I got Mama Bear on my side.”

Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t always like this. Between the fresh breath scent in his mouth, the fragrance of his much-too expensive cologne permeating your senses, and his thick thigh shoved under your groin, you are embarrassingly boneless in his arms. You pluck your fingers over the soft leather collar at the back of his neck, just as much to inspect the jacket, as much as to release more of that delicious smell. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” You mutter, smirking, as you wind your fingers into his curls. “Spoil my girls, what the fuck was that?”

“Ah, ha, ha, ha,” he gloats as he lowers his head to your neck. You expect a warm kiss in the length of skin you’ve exposed to him, but instead his teeth lightly tease your throat above your pulse point and you feel your knees buckle as your face warms. “I can be very charming when I want to be.” He squeezes your ass as if to make a point. 

You hold back a moan, flattening it to a shudder in your chest. You can feel his grin in your neck and he shifts you, pulls you closer and compresses you deeper into the wooden door. You can feel your conscious thought melting through your fingers so you blink, lick your lips, try to wiggle out from under his teeth.

“This isn’t a Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. This is Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” You gasp his name into the foyer of your childhood home when he licks you from the curve of your shoulder up under the soft place below your ear. Your hips jerk unconsciously, baser instincts seeking out the friction of his jeans, and you push against his biceps. “Dieter, she’ll be back any minute. She can’t – can’t see us like this.”

You’ve never heard him chuckle like the way he does, so darkly pleased with himself.

“Once I’m done schmoozing her, your father, your sister and her – what did you call him – cardboard husband, we’ll fuck in front of them and they won’t say a word.”

“Dieter!” You shove him just as your mother returns from the kitchen.

She frowns and you feel the scolding coming, the scent of Dieter so obviously entangled in you. You might as well be wearing a sign that reads, hi, yes, I’ve been recently groped why do you ask?

“Did you forget where your room is? Honestly, what would you do without me? Now, follow me and I’ll remind you.”

Schmooze he did. 

From the same magical bag of weirdly specific and perfect gifts, Dieter presents a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon and two very illegal, but very Cuban cigars. Your father forgets to scowl in the face of some of the most expensive bourbon in the world. 

For your sister, he somehow senses that material objects won’t go as far, so he endears himself to your niece first. Asking her questions about her doll, about her school, what she likes to play with her friends and how crazy it is that hopscotch is his favorite game too. 

In twenty minutes, he’s on his hands and knees, black sleeves pulled up over his immaculate forearms, and etching out a hopscotch board with pink chalk. He nods and interjects while your niece runs around him, demanding a dragon in the corner, or a crown in another, and suddenly your biological clock starts blaring like an air-raid siren. 

“He’s so good with kids,” your sister mutters to you from the door to the garage. A single glance tells you she’s under the same effect of watching a hot man play with a child. You’re so aroused and confused you can’t even eye her with jealousy. 

“Mhmm hmm.” 

“When are you going to have some of your own?” 

And you’re back inside before you can see the look on his face as he lifts his head.

It would be insulting to call it eerie. 

It’s not like he’s physically incapable of smelling clean, or dressing nice, or even combing his hair. You’ve seen him do it time and time again for galas and interviews. Hell, that time he took you on a date to get sushi in the tallest building in Toronto, he didn’t look that much different from how he does right now . . . and yet . . .

You feel your face scrunch in suspicion when he remembers your aunt’s food allergies, how your Uncle Rick likes his after-dinner coffee. 

Dieter might forget to put on pants, but he’s never forgotten the important dates of your relationship. He remembers what you were wearing the first night you kissed, but can’t remember to take out the pizza before it burns in the oven. 

This, this Dieter, feels wrong. 

You watch him laugh with your father and uncle by the fireplace with brandy in his hands as you work with your mother and sister to unwrap a dozen saran-wrapped pies. He comes by later and takes the stack of plates from your mother’s hands and assures her he’ll do the dishes, as thanks for such a wonderful meal.

This Dieter Bravo needs a smoking jacket and uses words like “wonderful meal”. 

Initial surprise at his near magical transformation from the car this morning long gone, you sit with this uncomfortable feeling, as everyone around you eats pie and laughs and looks all the part of a fucking Hallmark card for “joyful festivities”, long enough to finally understand it for what it is:

Anger. 

Shame. Guilt. 

Hot embarrassment. 

You look at the man who’s invaded your boyfriend’s body as he charms the pants off your mother and father, and ugly, heavy embarrassment boils over in your chest. Washing the knife in your throat down with your fourth glass of wine all night, you excuse yourself with the last bit of breath in your lungs before ducking upstairs, then stumbling to your childhood bathroom you once shared, and share again, with your sister. 

You lock the door forcefully in lieu of slamming it shut and sit down on the tile, your head against your knees. Rationally, there’s a part of you that knows this shouldn’t affect you like it is. Women would kill for a boyfriend like this – your sister very nearly jumped him in the garage. 

But that’s just the thing – this isn’t your boyfriend. This isn’t the man you spend your days and nights with and this isn’t the man you fell in love with. This isn’t the Dieter you want to show the world. 

A soft knock comes from the other side of the door and it breaks you out of your self-deprecating spiral. 

“Just a second,” you call out as you stand. You flush the empty toilet (this night is filled with ruses after all) and twitch the faucet on for two seconds. But when you open the door, you’re immediately cowed back in. 

“Dieter, what are you–,”

“Are you okay?” Beneath the veneer of the Million Dollar Man, his eyes are soft, coaxing the anxiety out of you. “You looked pale when you left.” He tucks an escaped strand of hair over your ear, watching how his fingers brush up against your skin. He gently tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls back. He smirks. “Mom’s dressing wasn’t that bad.” 

White-hot shame blooms again and you turn your head from him, tugging your hair out of his reach. You catch his hurt expression out of the corner of your eye. 

“I’m fine. Just needed some air.” 

“You’re not a good liar. I’ve told you that.” His voice is clipped. Not irritated, but not interested in lengthy bouts of misdirection either.

“Well, I don’t feel like bearing my problems to Mr. Perfect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms, shoulders swelling in the space of the tiny bathroom, and he leans on the sink. 

“It means you’re a better liar than me so I guess you’ll have to do it for the both of us.” 

You know it’s ridiculous to try and move around him – but maybe this Dieter wouldn’t care if you left angry. Even sober, he could manhandle you without a second thought, but between the heat of the drink in your throat and he’s blurred at the edges, you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Dieter, please, just –,”

He stands his ground, effectively blocking the door, and you huff, pushing up against his waist with your hands, your teeth bared behind your lips. He steps back, you think you’ve won a mile, but then his hands grasp so firmly around your elbows, your entire consciousness is pulled into where his fingers curl against your skin.

He gently, but seriously, shakes you slightly.

“Stop fighting me. You tell me what I did wrong and we’ll talk about this.”

The past two weeks of dread, and fear, and worry, and shame – shame that this is your family, this is how you go to pieces around them, this is all you can offer him – slam into your chest and your breathing hitches. The fingers at his chest dig into his shirt. The fourth glass of wine makes your eyes hot and tight.

“This isn’t you.” 

You grimace in the bright light of the bathroom and your confession. But beyond your closed eyes, his demeanor hasn’t changed. 

“What’s not me?”

A tear slips out the moment you open your mouth, your throat closing and gagging on your words. You swallow and try again, eyes peeling open to stare at the curve of his shoulder. 

“You’re Dieter Bravo. You dry-clean your favorite pajamas to preserve the material. You do astrology charts of people who piss you off to find out how to best get back at them. You paint until four in the morning and sleep in our bed until I wake you up–,”

Your heart thrusts its way into your airways and cuts off your ability to speak. You know you’re not making a lot of sense, but all you can think of right now is how much you want to peel this fucking black, Steve Jobs-esque, goddamn ugly-ass turtleneck apart with your bare hands. Like freeing a mermaid from a net. He squeezes your waist, his broad palm settled in the curve of your lower back. 

“Darling, I don’t see why this has you so sad –,”

“They won’t fall in love with you like I did.” You lift your watery gaze to him, unable to stop the spilling of tears. You always got teary when you drank a bit too much, but fuck, if you didn’t love him so much, you wouldn’t be so mad . . . at yourself. “I hate that you feel like you have to do this to be accepted by my family. I hate that they can’t see what makes you so special to me. I hate . . . I hate that they don’t see the real you.” 

And out of nowhere, he smiles. 

Never one to shy away from bodily fluids, Dieter kisses your tear-soaked cheeks, his hands rising up your back, taking their time to press into the curve of your hips, the bones of your ribs, the high arch of your spine, before settling on your cheeks. He kisses your wet mouth, thumbs against the corners of your lips like a soft leather bridle. He holds you, just like that, until your heart eases, stops racing in your chest, and you lean more into the kiss, chasing instead of hiding. You wrap your fingers around his wrists as he pulls away.

“With all due respect, this is just another gig for me.” His gentle smile hides no bitterness, no anger. No disgust. “I know what people like this are like, how they think, what they want. What they value.” He smears away the cold tears from your skin with his thumbs. “It’s fun, in a way, to infiltrate their little circles. It’s all fake, it’s all bullshit, and fortunately I’m fantastic at bullshit.”

You let out a watery laugh and he reaches behind you for some toilet paper to dry your tears. He blots your eyes for you before you can even take the tissue. 

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, baby,” he murmurs. “My family was exactly the same way, so I know how the game is played.”

“Yeah, and you don’t talk to them anymore. I just wish I had your bravery to cut them out of my life like you did.” 

Dieter’s mouth twitches. “Well, that had more to do with the fact that I like to occasionally make out with boys, than dysfunctional family dynamics.”

You squeeze his forearm as he continues to clean your face, trying to catch his eyes but they’d gone hard where a moment ago they were soft. He thinks, using the silence to carefully fix your make up with his thick thumb under your eyelashes to lift off the smeared mascara. 

He didn’t talk much about his life before Hollywood, but when he did, you understood why he was so closed off about it.

“Let’s put it this way: they did the cutting off, not me. And even if we have to be completely different people, your family still talks to you. I’m not saying that to guilt you, or compare trauma scars, but . . . most times we can’t pick who we love, but sometimes we have to.” 

You nod, a sense of ease washing over you. His small, I don’t know if I should say this but I’m gonna smile widens across his mouth. 

“It’s okay if they don’t see the real me, because I know you do.” He finally pulls away the tissue, his mouth pulled up in sweet earnest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

A physical string connected between your ribs and his could not have tugged you faster. Tripping into his wide, warm chest, you drop your head onto his collarbone as you wrap your arms around his torso tighter than his own rib cage.

“Just . . .”

His bulky arms pull you into his chest, the bristles of his beard scratching at your temple. It’s not until you sink away from your own thoughts, into the silence in the bathroom, that you realize your breathing is synced with his. 

That realization hits you particularly hard, that without trying, without meaning to, you become one with him – you turn and bury your face into the pulse of his neck. If you can get to his heartbeat, maybe that’ll calm you too. Dig through the crust of the earth and end up in China. You shift in his arms, and he does too. Dieter cups the back of your head, thumb rubbing the arch of your skull. His entire arm circles your back. 

“What do you need, hm, baby? What can I give you, huh?”

You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the girth, the weight of his voice has your toes curling in your shoes. His rasp is so often used to light that first spark. 

“Dieter –,” the moment shifts and so do you. You squirm, itching for his face in your hands, his mouth over yours, but he holds you steady. Holds you firm. So firm, you can feel he’s half-hard in his jeans. 

Oh. 

Maybe he did mean it like that. 

You press your tongue against his pulse point, your fingers splayed across the back of his rib cage, and he shudders. You’re about to bite down, when his hands peel your fingers from his back and pinch your wrists in one single, meaty grip. Heart suddenly thundering in your chest, he steps back to allow for just enough room to turn you – barely any at all – and pushes you face down on the sink counter, your wrists clasped over your ass behind you.

Cold marble pressing up against your tits, your face turned towards the window and the towel bar where you used to hang your Barbie swimsuits when you were seven, you feel his other massive palm dip under your sweater and press flat against the ridges of your spine. He hums when you let out a small whine. Flexes his fingers when you wiggle your ass against him. You seek out the marble with your cheek, heat rising under your skin, arousal suddenly burning hot in your low belly. 

“This is what you need, hm, baby? Need me to touch you? To feel you?” He murmurs. Dieter always did like playing with his food. You nod helplessly, cheek sticky against the marble. He shifts his hips into the crack of your ass, with just enough pressure to have you bucking back against him, but not enough to find relief from the stirring between your legs. 

He strokes your hair away from your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone, gaze languid and slow. Like he can see where he needs to pluck to unravel you. 

“Why is my baby so tense?” He muses quietly, patronizing. His hand maps your spine in a single palm, edging slowly up your back until, with two fingers, he pinches your bra open. You feel the snap of the release and you rub your nose against the edge of the counter, whimpering. “Don’t I take care of you?”

You gulp. “Y-y-yes, you treat– treat me so good. I want it.” 

He has you pressed too tightly against the counter to slip his hand down your front, the edge pinching your hips. So, instead, with your hands still pinned against your tailbone, he palms your ass and rubs a thick finger down between your legs and up over the seam of your jeans. The whine building in your throat breaks into an open moan when he presses your zipper teeth into your clit.  

“Want what? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” 

“F-fingers – tongue – fuck – y-your cock. Anything inside me.” 

The surprised, breathless chuckle that reverberates down to the button of his jeans seared against your ass has you bending, stretching, just for a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

His mouth open, tongue curling back and forth over his bottom lip, he’s hungry. Wants so much. Can’t satiate this need without something between his teeth. Grinning around a mouthful of incisors. Patience has never been Dieter’s strong suit. 

With a firm jerk around your wrists, your back arches up off the counter, shoulders pinched, hands caught low near his groin. You know he wants you to watch him touch you in the mirror – he’s stopped before when you close your eyes – but it’s hard to look at the woman reflected back at you, with her bleary eyes, mussed hair, heaving chest, and exposed belly button where his hand hovers between the waistband and a green sweater, and recognize yourself. 

  “No one can take you from me. Do you understand?” He dips his head, arched nose dragging up the curve of your neck, breathing hot through his teeth against the lines where your hair and your skin meet. You can’t help but arch up into his waiting mouth. “Not your family. Not mine. You’re so greedy for me – who else is gonna make you feel this good?” 

“N-no one, Dieter, no one can.”

His hand rising under your sweater, thumb first at your belly button, then up between the spread of your ribs, and finally, it catches under the wire of your bra and he tugs it down. The material rubs against your sensitive nipples – it almost stings, your body pulled taught like a bowstring – the straps falling low off your shoulders, but your sweater keeps it from falling off completely and he goes no further. You whine, eager for something other than the scratch of the bra – something warmer – and push your sensitive tits into his soft hands, but his hand drops, fingering the waistline of your jeans instead. He ignores what you want to show you what you need. 

This is a thing he did. He watched you wind yourself up with deadlines and scheduling and meetings and arguments on set and and doubt and worry and fear and then he took it upon himself to tire you out enough that all of it shattered – crashed and consumed under the white noise in your head. Dieter liked to play however you needed it.

You can feel the seam of his jeans hover just beyond your fingertips, as though his hips swing unconsciously forward while he nips and sucks on your neck. God, you’d give anything to have the weight of him between your palms. 

When he speaks again, you realize at some point you squeezed your eyes shut, forgoing sight to chase the sensation that sparks across your skin every time he touched a new bare patch of skin on you. He pulls his head up from fixating a tender purple blush just below where your sweater covers your shoulder to catch your gaze in the mirror. Panthers do not watch with such hungry eyes. 

“Arms up.” It’s not a command, a request, but the words drip from his mouth, rich and sweet. He lets go of your wrists and your arms flutter above you, his fingers already rolling up the edge of your sweater. He drags it up, snagging your loose bra with it, and peeling them both off you. The immediate heat of his chest on your bare back is so hot, it burns cold. 

“Dieter,” you cry, nipples hardening in the cold air, goosebumps spiraling out along your skin. He’s there for you in an instant. 

He bites the soft, invisible hairs at your jaw, thick paws coming up to clutch your breasts, the sudden swap in temperature making your head swim. He pulls you against his chest, a new outer skin that breathes and moans and gasps, one that has a steady heartbeat your own has synced to. 

With his eyes fixated on you in the mirror, he molds your breast to his palm, rounding your nipples with his thumbs before sliding down between the curves of them. He licks the back of your neck. 

“Face down, baby,” he says. 

“But it’s cold,” you huff, pouting. You smooth your hands over his, his angular wrists, his broad thick forearms entombed in long back sleeves, then settle with your fingers in his hair. His height over you has your torso stretched, your tits bare and ripe, and he palms your stomach to the top of your ribs in two hands. He grunts when you twist his curls, keeping his head still so every bruise and wet spot on your shoulders and throat are all too visible. “Don’t you want to see all your good work?”

He blinks, slow and purposeful, his eyelids heavy, mouth parting. You can’t be sure of his decision, of what he wants, what he’s going to give, when his hands arch up the cradle of your arms, soft enough to tickle below your elbows, then around your wrists. He’s done this enough for you to know he wants you to let go.

You do. 

Fast as venom moves from fangs to flesh, he plants your hands on the counter, forcibly gripping the edge. This is how you hold on. 

He steps up against you again, iron-hot cock pressing without hesitancy between your ass cheeks, and unbuckles your pants without preamble.

“I’d rather just show you.” 

Broad hand bending your shoulders forward, fingers pressed flat over your shoulder, you gasp when your tits make contact with the cold counter, and an instant later, he’s filling your open mouth with his fingers. He wets them against the slip of your tongue and grabs your jaw. 

Your mind fracturing like cracking ice, you don’t hear the zip of his jeans, the groan as he takes himself out – barely feel the rub along your wet slit, the arranging of his fingers around your bare hip, the widening of your stance with his ankle. 

But you do feel it when he’s suddenly hilt-deep inside of you. 

You lurch forward with the weight of it, whining as though scalded at the sudden blinding pressure of pleasure and pain, and you slap a palm against the mirror to keep yourself from shattering through it. Behind you, Dieter looks like someone dislocated his kneecaps. 

“You good, baby?” He pants, drawing his hand out of your mouth, wet spit between his fingers as he cups your hanging breast. The sensation bleeds hot, then cold. Unable to help himself, he nuzzles your shoulder blades. 

You nod, eyes shut, the magnetic north sense of you spinning wildly off-kilter as you try to gulp in as much air as you can. You know you’re about to lose it anyway. He stands upright, not so much as inching out of you, when he plants his feet and nestles your ass against his hip bones, hands wiggling you further down his cock. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

It’s said with such wonder, a breathless reverence, that you think he might not have realized he said it out loud. You glance over your shoulder, turning your head instead of finding him in the mirror. 

The facade of the Brooklyn banker is gone. Your Dieter stares, awe-struck, at the body he’s got impaled on his cock like it’s the first time he’s seen a naked woman. Soft, pliant, eager to please, your Dieter lets you collar him, peg him, and give it to you exactly as you ask.

“How do you want it?” The phrase is so familiar, so intimate when spoken from his pink lips, you shudder, a Pavlovian response that’s got you drooling somewhere else than your mouth. He lifts his gaze and finds you staring. 

There is no one else in that moment. Not a single living soul besides you and him in this white-tiled bathroom. You can almost hear the absence of people ringing in your ears. His open, hot mouth draws your eyes away from his and you want every bit of him as stuffed up inside you as you can handle. Twisted around, you lick his bottom lip over your shoulder before offering your tongue for him to suck.

He groans, and you breathe in intimacy you’ve never experienced before. A flushed ache rises from your chest, a precursor to the aches he’ll leave you with by morning. 

You tip your head back and thumb the bristly skin against his chin.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

For all his faults, for all his forgetting, Dieter switches brain waves as fast as you do, tethered together like the gravitational spin of space rocks in the wake of a gleaming comet.

“Okay.”

He distracts you from the pain of that first rough thrust by biting down on your shoulder.

His motions are short, targeted, and right up into the cradle of your cervix, the pace driven, unrelenting and hard. You shake with the force of them, as fragile as silverware on a table near the drop of an atom bomb. 

“Oh – fuck, Dieter–,” 

He pins your arm that had touched his chin to your chest, then his chest to your back, sealing your damp skin to his shirt. The curl of that wretched black turtleneck scratches deliciously against your low back. 

Grunting in low, short bursts, Dieter sabotages his own breathing by crushing you so tight to his chest. He sucks on your neck as if to draw the oxygen straight from your blood. The fingers on your hip steady you, just for his cock wrecks your insides. 

“You wan-na – ngh – you wanna know why it doesn’t bother me?” 

Each word is spat out from between his teeth. He’s giving you your requested punishment as much as he is sprinting after his own release.

“Tell me. Tell me please.” Your voice is scraped raw, breathless and gooey at the same time. 

“Because when you’re my wife, they won’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.” 

Around him, your cunt squeezes, his words sending shocks through your nerves. You whine as if he’d smacked your ass. 

“I fucking felt that. You like that. You want that. You want my fucking cock every day.”

Again, he plants your hands on the cold counter. 

“Push back against me, baby.” You anchor yourself, ass out, elbows and knees locked. “That’s it, that’s my fucking good girl.”

He lifts his body up right, off your sweaty neck and back, and with both hands pinching your waist, he yanks you up and down on his cock in long, rough thrusts, knees bending with enough force to send you onto your toes.  

“Gonna have to take it. Just – fucking – take – it –,”

His leaking cock drives up against that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and body tense again and again, but yanks back before that hot feeling swells. It’s so close you’re dizzy from it. 

You want to fuck yourself on his cock but you can’t time your aching hips right, so you stop trying and bend forward more, exposing more of your cunt to him. 

“Dieter, please –,” 

“Baby, you gotta be quiet. I know you feel good, but you can’t let them hear us.”

The words are out of your mouth, breaking through the thick, drowning fog and through the hindbrain barrier.

“Fuck them. Let them hear.” 

Dieter’s hips slow, punch not as deeply, as if he’s curious what you’re going to say next.

“Take off your shirt. I wanna feel your skin.” 

He listens immediately, a very good boy at heart, and the first press of his soft chest against you nearly has you coming then. 

“Harder again, please.” 

Again, without a second’s hesitation, he kisses your ear before grappling your shoulder with one hand and your hip with the other and he takes up his position as owner and keeper of your sloppy cunt. 

You cry out, high and wrecked, some semblance of sanity knowing you’re being far too loud, and he bucks the words out of you.

“I wanna suck on your earring, Dieter.” He grunts as he doubles over as if trying to yank back an unrestrained and early release. He rubs his damp forehead in the patch of soft skin by your shoulder blade. 

“Say it again.” 

With every rock of his hips, you swing up higher, and higher, your thighs tensing, nails scraping the counter. 

“Wanna put it between my lips and suck until you’re cherry red. I wanna choke on your rings. So far down my throat I gag. Wanna – wanna – lick your tattoos – all of them – ‘til the ink blurs from my spit. I –,”

The noise he makes is pained, weak, a man at the end of his rope.

He pops your ass. “Shut up. You’re gonna come now.” 

His sweaty palms slip against the soft skin of your hips, and he keeps slipping with no leverage. 

“Stand on your toes.” You do and for an absurd second, you think he’s going to pick you up in a bear hug. He wraps his arms around your rib cage, his face nestled into the hot, sticky curve of your neck, in the flipped image of when he takes you after your legs get sore from riding him. Your tits spilling over his forearms, he keeps the ludicrous bend in your spine as well as the short, rough pace. You reach your fingers around the back of his head and hold on for dear life. 

The change in angle has stars blowing across your eyes, has you whimpering strings of pleas, veneration, and curses all threaded together. His own thighs shaking, he rubs the pads of three of his fingers across your clit and you’re over the edge. 

“Oh – oh, shit –,”

The electrical storm that’s been building one wiry shock at a time finally bursts and you go rigid from head to toe, turning to marble, to steel, bright and sharp. You can feel your own release dribble down your thigh, Dieter stuttering behind you.

“Wait – fuck,”

He tries to speed up, or press harder, but he’s coming so hard you feel it expand your cunt and ends up just making a leaking mess. The sensation shivers you through another minor wave. The crest goes high, then crashes, and you slump forward, cold nips be damned, and he follows you down a second later. 

The heated weight at your back and hard, cool marble squishing your tits is too much for your dazed brain to handle. Any looser and you might slip off the edge of the earth. 

Dieter seems to be in a similar state. He not so much pulls out of you as he goes weak-kneed to the floor. A single tug on your hip has you stumbling down with him.

Despite the garland around the stairs, despite the smell of cranberries in the air, despite the veneer of perfect holiday wholesomeness, it’s the slick layer of sweat, grime, and cum over your skin that has you finally smiling. 

You recognize you have been gone far too long – there’s not enough spiked hot cider in the world to ignore two missing bodies and a locked door. Dieter puts his barefoot preemptively up against the door frame and you giggle into his shoulder. 

“Oh, there’s the sound I’ve been missing!” He nuzzles you, a blissful smile breaking open his face, sunlight over storm clouds. He wiggles beneath you, trying to tug you on top of him, but with your jeans constricting your thighs, and his barely below his hips, all it really accomplishes is the two of you rolling around on the bathroom floor.

In a heap of limbs, slick skin, his knee catching the button of your jeans, you bump your nose against his chin, there’s something bright building in your chest – it’s twisting your mouth, pinching your cheeks – his fingers grab your elbow, his eyes lock into yours – 

And you’re laughing. 

You’re laughing too loud, all pretense gone. You can’t honestly care what they’re thinking downstairs.

He manages to get you under him, his damp hair clinging to his temples and tangling down in frizzy strands. 

“I’m gonna say this and I need you to actually hear me.” 

You nod, grinning up at him and lightly tracing his clavicle. 

He swats at your hand and holds it to your chest. 

“Don’t wait until it’s that bad, okay?” You chuckle and he bites the tip of your nose. “Listen to me, you little goblin, I’m trying to be serious for a second.”

You settle under him, fingers intertwining with his over your chest. Sincere Dieter is a beautiful thing to look at. 

“This holiday bullshit can be a lot. Spent a lot of them either in coke up to my eyeballs, or in the bathroom the next day. It fucking sucks that these are the people we can from, but we can’t change that. What’s important is the family we build right now–,”

Your mouth drops open, his words suddenly illuminating a future that had always seemed so blurry and distant. 

“Dieter, I –,”

“I’m gonna marry you someday, so let’s start with us.” He kisses the back of your hand. “We carry each other, okay?” 

You nod, the white light of that future searing a hole in your chest, exposing your heart to the open air, and bringing tears to your eyes. You nod, more assured, before kissing him on his bottom lip.

“Okay.” 

The next few minutes play out just like they would if you were at home: cleaning each other up, trying on clothes only to realize he grabbed your sweater instead, and bumping affectionate kisses wherever they could reach. 

At the top of the stairs, you don’t know what awaits you in the living room. What exactly you’ll be returning to. Who will catch you and who won’t.

But it doesn’t matter. His hand is around yours and he’s grinning petulantly against all the world. 

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on? 

Your heart says yes. 

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #pedro pascal #merry thanksgiving nonsense 2023

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

Blood Ties Chapter 15

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; vomiting; pregnancy; pregnancy complications; allusions to child abuse. A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than most of the others but I’m actually super content with it. I’ve altered Daryl’s idiolect to somewhere I feel a little more comfortable. I hope it still stays true to the character. Lots of feels. Buckle up. *Click here to be added to taglists.

Apparently, sleep had been in the cards for you after all. There were four things you noticed immediately upon waking. 

Firstly, there was a comforting ache between your legs that reminded you of the events of the previous night. You could still feel Daryl’s bare skin against yours, sweat-slick and new. You were aware he didn’t give that part of himself easily. You felt privileged. Your newfound revelation of your love for him felt validated. Still, you urged your mind onward. 

Secondly, Daryl was nowhere to be seen, along with Rick, Glenn, and Maggie. They must have left for the run already. You fought against the disappointment of not being able to see the archer before he’d gone. He wouldn’t have woken you. You knew that, but that did little to settle the discontentment of not seeing him off. 

Thirdly, a warmth was secured around your upper half in the form of one of Daryl’s button-up shirts. You chuckled quietly, considering how the gesture was one that was likely born out of concern and consideration but allowed yourself to entertain that it could have more than that. A desire to protect you and his child, ensure your comfort, as if wrapping you in something of his somehow marked you as off limits. 

And finally, you had to pee. The basic bodily function had been enough of an inconvenience before a small weight had been added above your bladder. Now, it appeared that your life was nothing outside of eating, vomiting, crying, and urinating. You were still trying to discern where the beautiful part of pregnancy might be hiding. 

“Good morning.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before waiting as they focused on Carol. You returned the greeting while stretching, your muscles giving up their sleep-induced stiffness. 

“Not much to eat but I saved you some beans. Are you hungry?”

You shook your head while, at the same time, scratching your blunt nails over your scalp. “I really need to pee though.” You eased Daryl’s shirt away from where it had pooled, folding it into a square on your lap. There was a brief chuckle from Carol that had you looking up quizzically. 

“I wish you could have seen him making sure you were okay before he left.” Your cheeks reddened, heat rising all the way to your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” The woman held out a hand. You took it and pulled yourself up, the warmth in your skin beginning to fade. As an afterthought, you grabbed Daryl’s shirt and unfolded it. It fit loosely over your flannel and shirt, providing a little more warmth against the morning chill. 

“I hope they are able to find more clothes. The wind cuts right through these damn pants.” You weren’t really intending to make conversation during the walk just inside the treeline but the silence after she had confirmed Daryl’s softness toward you had felt overbearing. 

“It was probably even colder without them.”

It took a minute for her words to sink in and then you stopped, feigning confusion even after the hint of pink covering your face surely gave you away. “What are you talking about?”

Carol laughed, a quiet sound, and stepped forward to barely move aside the three layers over your collarbone. “He left a reminder for you.” You really were confused for a moment before you were presented with the pleasant memory of his teeth clamping down above your collarbone and the intense orgasm that followed. 

“How do you know it wasn’t a walker?” You knew your attempt would be fruitless and cringed at the absurdity of your question. There was a relief when she didn’t even embarrass you further by answering. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“I didn’t tell them you were pregnant. I won’t tell them you’re sleeping with your baby’s father.” Carol grinned at your expression, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’ll wait here.”

You were dry heaving against the far end of the wall when you heard the roar of Daryl’s motorcycle signal the group’s return. Carol had finally insisted you try to eat something and you conceded, barely finishing the last bite before scrambling away from the fire to vomit only a few feet away. After that, it was a losing battle that you didn’t have the energy to fight. 

“Y’okay?” 

Smiling through bouts of retching had not been on your bingo card for the year, but there you were. His warm hand came to rest against your spine. You sagged with a sigh, barely holding yourself up. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was rough. Clearing your throat, you sat back on your heels and tried again. “Yeah, I’m okay.” The back of your hand rubbed across your mouth to wipe away traces of saliva before you allowed yourself to look at him. “Jesus, Daryl!” The archer was covered in grime and guts, a darkening bruise on his right cheekbone and a still weeping cut above his left eyebrow. 

“M’fine. Ran into some trouble. Handled it.”  

When your hand reached for his chin, he didn’t shy away, letting you turn his head one way and then the other. “Looks more like it handled you.” The archer scoffed and swatted at your arm. With a sigh, you braced yourself on shaky arms to force yourself up, caught off guard by his fingers pinching the three fabrics that covered you to pull them aside like Carol had earlier. You didn’t expect to see such a deep frown when you brought your attention to his face.

Pursing your lips, you sat back down and pulled down the collar of his undershirt, relieved that he had taped gauze over the wound you had opened on him. “I think I win, tiger. Besides, it doesn’t even hurt.”

“Don’ make it alright.”

You shrugged. “It does if I liked it.” You were hoping that would bring him some calm but that endeavor was cut short when you lurched to the side to once again heave futility. Daryl would find no protest when he scooped you up after you’d finished, saving you the journey back to the fireside. 

Your feet touched the ground just as everyone came into view. Did he not want them to see him carrying you? 

“Uh, here.” The archer’s fingers shook as he gently lifted your wrist and began to fit some sort of bracelet on it. “Couldn’t find the meds. M’sorry. Tried like hell. Turned that place upside down.” He looked so disappointed in himself. 

You examined the piece, a light pink band with symmetrically placed metal circles that fit snug, but not painfully so, against your skin. It was a strange piece of jewelry. “It’s pretty.” You stated honestly, not really knowing what you were supposed to say. The gift was appreciated and you liked it in all its uniqueness. It was just that Daryl offering you an apology in the form of a gift was new, for lack of a better term. 

The bowman snorted. “S’posed to use pressure points to help keep ya from feelin’ so sick.”

Somehow, that meant even more than an apology. He couldn’t find what you needed so he searched out an alternative. You were almost willing to bet that’s why he looked roughed up compared to the mere dirt and walker guts you could make out on the other three. 

“Ain’t gonna stop lookin’ though. M’a find that medicine for ya.”

You smiled at him, heartfelt and genuine. “You’ll find it and Thumper’ll be just fine.”

“Ain’t just…” Daryl trailed off, scratching at the back of head while not meeting your eyes. “Ain’t just ‘bout the kid, y’know.” You blinked, your eyes filling. Though some of his actions had hinted at it, hearing him say it was something else entirely. 

“Daryl, I—”

“Y/N!” Maggie was beaming at you while jogging over, immediately wrapping a soft hand around your forearm. “Come see!” She encouraged, all teeth and bright eyes. You glanced back to find Daryl already disappearing into the dark, the moment clearly over. 

You let yourself mourn it even as you plastered on a smile and turned back to allow her to lead you to the others. A short distance from the fire, a plethora of items were littered across a blanket. The eldest Greene daughter had already relinquished her hold and knelt above the supplies. 

“What is all this?”

“Well,” Glenn chuckled from beside Maggie. “Daryl had a list. We searched for medicine and clothes and food but that guy was in full dad mode.” Your heart fluttered but you continued to listen. “He had all this loaded by the time we came out with the other stuff.”

“We couldn’t find the meds though. Not yet but we’re going to stop in other places. We did find some IV bags and tubing though!” Her big eyes flitted down to the bracelet you were toying with unconsciously. “He went back in for those.” Maggie’s expression was incredibly soft. “We heard some other people. And there were walkers. We were loading the last of everything and he was just gone.”

“Looked like hell when he came out but had a bag of about ten of those things.” Glenn gestured to your wrist. “He didn’t know if they expired and really, we didn’t know what they were but he did. He said you might need them for a while after the baby comes.”

You were on the verge of tears, your hand closing around the contraption Daryl had fought so hard to secure. Maggie was already showing you clothing she had acquired, mentioning that you and Lori would need them.  There were boots and sneakers, a size larger than you usually wore. Bras, only regular ones. Nursing bras were a no-go but it would be a while before you needed those. They found few actual maternity items but things in larger sizes and some men’s items that could be used. 

“And then all this stuff Daryl grabbed. He said he didn’t know if he’d ever find it all again so he took all he could.” Rick had remained quiet up to that point, refusing to meet Lori’s eyes as he spoke. Definitely trouble in that paradise. 

The blanket held things you weren’t even sure about. Maggie explained the manual breast pump. There were bottles, nipples, pacifiers, orajel, one container of infant Tylenol, a container of infant gas relief drops, two packs of newborn diapers, three packs of wipes, several baby blankets, three healthcare kits, some clothes that were just so, so tiny. You were simply overwhelmed. Daryl, the provider for the group, had ventured off alone to find all he could think of for the baby, leaving the others to find supplies for the here and now. 

“How are we gonna haul all of this if something happens to the cars?” You bit down on your lip after speaking, still fighting the sting in your eyes. 

“I guess he thought of that too.” Glenn jerked his head to the right where several backpacks were piled up. “He said between all of us, we can keep everything here as well as any supplies the adults need.” It went unsaid how you all held onto hope that you’d have a safe place to stay by then. 

“Wow. How many places did you clear?”

“Four.” The young man answered immediately. “Dude had an agenda. He wasn’t coming back until he had everything on his list.”

“Oh! Here!” Maggie grabbed a thick winter coat and held it out. “He said you needed this. It was one of the things he refused to come back without.”

You were still stunned, swallowing it down behind feigned delight. “Okay, gimme some of those clothes.”

Daryl was leaning against a tree when you found him. You were in much warmer clothes and bundled deep inside the warm jacket that left plenty of room for the belly you’d be sporting soon enough. 

“Hey.” You greeted. He didn’t turn but grunted in reply. “Thanks for this.” You watched his eyes slide over when you gestured to the coat. 

“Warm enough?” 

“I feel like I am legitimately baking a bun in the oven.” You smiled brightly when he deadpanned at you with a mumbled stop. “Seriously, though. Thank you. For this” you pulled up your sleeves to show him the anti-nausea bracelet, “and for this.”

He glanced over but then back out to the quiet wooded area. “It workin’?” 

You shrugged. “I threw up lunch but then I’ve kept water down so far.” His blue eyes finally turned to you and studied, sliding down and back, before he jerked his chin up in a nod and looked away yet again. Something was bothering him. That much was obvious. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” Daryl reached for the bag at his feet, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He opened one end and pulled a pack free before dropping the box back into the bag. You could hear the plastic tear and the flick of the zippo but your eyes were on something else. 

Breaking the Cycle of Abuse: How to Move Beyond Your Past to Create an Abuse-free Future

You didn’t notice him move until he was zipping the bag with more force than necessary, moving it out of your sight as if you had X-ray vision. 

“You won’t be like them.” You didn’t know who had hurt him. Though he’d allowed you to see him without the thin armor of his shirt, he hadn’t offered any information. Not that there had been time. He sent you off to bed, took watch alone, and he was already gone before you even woke up. 

He took a long drag off the cigarette. “Don’t act like ya know anythin’ ‘bout it.” He stated evenly, smoke flowing from his mouth behind every word. It was difficult but you didn’t let his words sting. 

“I really don’t. My daddy was amazing. My mom wasn’t a monster. She was just…weak. Never had a boyfriend hit me or anything.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. “But I can listen if you want to talk about it.”

“ Nah. Ain’t needin’ my head shrunk.”

You noticed immediately that he gave no indication as to any of the people you mentioned being the one in his life to hurt him. There was so much you didn’t know about Daryl. So much he didn’t know about you. If one of you died after the baby came, how could the other possibly tell the story of the other parent with so many missing pieces. 

“Daryl?”

“What?” The archer didn’t snap at you but there was an underlying annoyance that you couldn’t miss if you tried. 

You sighed. “Nothing.” Tell me everything. “I think there should be food ready if we head back now. Corned beef hash, if I read the can correctly.” What are we?

“Ain’t hungry but you g’on. Ya need to eat. Need the food just s’much as the baby does.” It was a valiant but failed effort to offer you his portion of the meal. 

“You need it too.” Daryl looked so tired but it wasn’t just physical exhaustion. He had been racking his brain for anything that could make your life easier now and after the birth. A break was necessary. “And you need to sleep.”

“Said I ain’t hungry. Ain’t tired neither.”

“Bullshit.” Your patience was wearing thin, whether from hormones or just the simple grating of his petulance on your last nerve. “Not gonna beg you. Do what you want but I would feel a hell of a lot better if you’d take as much care of yourself as you try to for me and the baby.” You made a show of stomping away, hoping that he’d see how he was affecting you. 

The warmth of the fire began warming you within the coat before you had fully reached it. Carol was already filling a bowl for you and holding it out by the time you sat down. “Thank you.” The woman smiled and nodded, returning her focus to her own helping. You took a moment to regard the state of your stomach. It was uneasy, but only slightly. The abundant smells of food, burning wood, and a hint of body odor from close proximity weren’t making it worse. You decided to take the risk and shoveled a bite into your mouth. 

You had managed less than a third of the bowl when Daryl emerged from the shadows, nodding at Rick when they passed one another, the latter taking up watch with his bowl in hand. The hunter’s crossbow was placed on the ground before he took a seat next to you, your shoulders nearly touching. It was a gesture of vulnerability that the group either didn’t pick up on or didn’t care enough to acknowledge. But you did. 

Your bowl was placed in front of your criss-crossed legs so you could reach out and silently beckon Carol to fill another. Nodding your thanks, you offered it to Daryl, smiling in the face of his sneer. He wasn’t unaffected by your blatant desire to care for him, his distaste evident but not aggressive. He accepted the food and wasted no time before digging in, visibly forcing himself not to inhale the meal. 

He had been hungry. An invisible force squeezed your heart. He was already making sacrifices for his family, regardless of wherever it was the two of you stood. He was choosing you as a priority, eager for your health and comfort at the cost of his own. You’d have to watch him or he’d run himself into the ground. 

There wasn’t much left after a single serving for everyone but it was an unspoken agreement that what remained would be for you, Lori, or Carl. You managed to make it through most of your own serving, adding a little more on top while leaving enough for the kid and his mom to split the rest. You forced another two bites to at least support the appearance of initially wanting more. You hadn’t. You did want the archer to have more. He was careful to conceal it but you knew without asking that he had either trimmed his own portions of the few meals the group had managed or turned it down all together. And that simply wouldn’t do. 

You maneuvered your bowl above his in preparation to rake what you hadn’t eaten on top of what he was still working through. He pulled back, brow furrowed. “Eyes were bigger than my appetite.” You shrugged. 

“Give it to one’a them.” Daryl jerked his chin across the fire, holding your gaze while taking another bite. 

“There’s enough left for them. I want you to have this.” The tension that followed was brief. He gave in rather easily, offering his bowl with a heaved sigh. You didn’t gloat and spooned the rest out for him. “Thank you.” He replied with a grunt that really could have been interpreted as a growl. 

A promise was made to Carol to help her clean the mismatched bowls in the morning. You were tired; slightly nauseated and, for once, eager to close your eyes. Still, something bothered you. 

During dinner, you noticed the fine, almost imperceptible shivering. Despite his natural ability to act as a human space heater, Daryl was cold. He wore only his vest, long sleeve button up, and a tank top beneath. You pushed to your feet, feeling his eyes follow you. The supplies had been separated and placed into different backpacks, forcing you to go through three of them to find the blankets. Some were small receiving blankets while others were thick, large fabrics. You grabbed two of those and then one of the blankets for the adults. Those were limited to one per person, having been hard to find. 

You returned to his side without a word. The largest blanket was soon spread over the ground. You hoped he would take the hint and share the blanket, sparing him from the cold forest floor. 

Daring to push your luck, you took one of the larger baby blankets and spread it over his shoulders. Daryl tensed with a spoonful of food hovering just over the bowl, trembling so hard that clumps were falling back into the bowl. You watched his eyes dart from person to person, lingering on Carol as she smiled around her spoon. She kept her eyes straight ahead but had obviously seen your actions. 

The archer deflated slightly, pushing what remained on the utensil past his lips. You sat down on the edge of the blanket, leaving ample room for him to just shift over and lie down if he wanted. You, on the other hand, nearly collapsed onto your back before rolling onto your side to grab the other blanket. Your torso was warm under the jacket but the chill of the night air was still biting at your legs. Making sure they were adequately covered, you used one arm as a pillow, not even trying to fight the heavy call of sleep. 

In the haze of exhaustion, you faintly registered the warm body against your back and the gentle squeeze of a hand on your hip. 

The weather only became colder as the days wore on. The dead moved slower but in groups that grew larger, desperately in search of living flesh. There hadn’t been a single living soul in three weeks.  Everyone had moved on. And that meant that every stop had been cleaned out of anything useful. Anything vital to survival. 

Hershel did what he could to ensure that you and the baby remained as healthy as possible. Without the proper equipment, there was little he could do beyond checking your pulse, taking approximate measurements of your stomach. You took the meds when Daryl could find them; changed the bracelet when the one you wore didn’t seem to be as effective. Hershel would administer IV fluids as often as he dared while in constant motion to stay ahead of the gathering herds. At times you wondered if you or the baby would even survive after all. 

At twenty one weeks, you had most definitely— as Lori had put it — “popped.” While malnutrition and the complications you suffered ensured you struggled to maintain any sort of healthy weight, the small roundness of your abdomen remained prominent. Despite Daryl's protests, you continued to ride behind him on the bike, the bump pressed against his back, the only time you felt like you could offer any true safety for your baby. Protected by their father from the weather, the walkers. 

From the world. 

The current stop saw you vomiting beside the porch of the home the group was searching. Daryl was with you, quiet, one hand on your back and the other holding any hair away from your face. 

“Doc should give ya some’a them fluids.” His suggestion came quietly against your ear after you sagged against him. 

“Maybe at the next stop.” That was always your reply. Even when the archer had to pull the bike off the road for you to retch and heave. “Maybe at the next stop.”

You didn’t want to be the reason the group was held up. You continued to hold on until your legs buckled and your head clouded, always waking up with tubing in your arm and a worried bowman’s face hovering over yours. 

This was most likely going to be one of those times. You angled your head to look at him, his tired gaze on the front of your coat. The large size ensured the swell remained hidden. You both preferred it that way. If you ran into any hostile living, it wouldn’t be something that could be used as leverage. 

“How ‘bout this stop?” It wasn’t a request. Still, the command was strained at best. Daryl looked exhausted and drawn, years older than just two weeks before. 

There was still nothing defined about what the two of you had. He slept behind you at night, putting himself between you and any possible entrance, the curves of his body fitting into yours. His hand never ventured past where your hip met your stomach. There had been nothing sexual since the first night on the road, not even a kiss. 

The two of you never discussed where you stood. It was as if you just were. Together but not. Maybe he never wanted to discuss it because he was afraid of how badly he felt he was failing you. How he felt he was a terrible father before the kid had even taken their first breath. The times you had tried to reassure him, he had snatched up his crossbow and skulked away to hunt, a quiet bark of watch her to Carol. 

You didn’t offer him any of those reassurances that night. You preferred to have him close to you, that barrier between your baby and the world, instead of wondering if the sight of his back as he walked away would be the last you would see of him. 

As you laid there on top of your blanket in the run down house, IV fluids flowing into the back of your hand and Daryl breathing quietly at your back while his fingers flexed over the bony junction of your hip, you startled to feel the small flutter inside the swell of your belly. You carefully moved your hand over where the sensation originated, not wanting to alert Daryl just yet. Hershel had told you that the first movements would likely only be felt on the inside. 

That was indeed the case. Still you held your breath after each flutter, awaiting the next with tears flowing across your nose and down your temple. 

Your baby was moving. 

“Daryl.” 

His fingers stilled. “Hmm?”

“They’re moving.” You shifted to look over your shoulder at him. He had slightly raised his head, his brow furrowed. He looked over his own shoulder toward the people sleeping behind him. The only one up was Rick, his gun on his lap while his gaze was trained on the door. 

“Who’s movin’?” He looked so, so tired and your heart shattered, as it did anytime you looked at him lately. 

But this wasn’t the time for heavy hearts. 

“The baby. They’re moving.”

The change in the archer was gradual. Understanding finally blossomed in his expression, the dull veil that had glossed over his pretty blue eyes washed away with the wetness of his unshed tears. You gently wrapped your fingers around his and pulled his hand toward your belly, parting your coat so he could touch your warm skin with chilled fingers. You both knew he wouldn’t be able to feel it, but it didn’t stop him from crumbling, burying his face in your hair. You remained unsure if he was crying, even his stuttering breaths completely untelling. 

Still, his fingers squeezed yours over where your baby moved. 

And for one brief moment, the world around you was beautiful. 

@stitchintimefan @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @sshewonders @callmeyn @queenmizuki @crazyunsexycool @zehiiro @sunnybunnyy2 @gimalo135 @lothiriel9@lilyevanstan1325@gutsby@isakyakiisak@in-this-minute@eljaynosine_triphosphate @hutchersonsgurl@abbyreedus@wifeof-barnes@bananafire11@graciepies@alaaabdaldeen @georgiadixon@mfnqueen1@esgoraths@fanngirl19@she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @s0urw00lf @Miyah-hearts @the-lonely-abyss @bymailin @angelbunny222 @m0ss-g0blin @d0p3ys-delusions

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #pregnant!reader

[vivwritesfics]

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Chapter One - Criminal

Oscar Piastri worked for a criminal organisation. It wasn't the life he wanted, wasn't the life he had chosen for himself. But, like those before him, he didn't have any other choice.

He was just a rookie in the Verstappen organisation. He got stuck with the shitty jobs, like watching over Verstappens latest intake, a petty criminal who makes stealing cars look hot.

1.9K

Warnings: Mentions of drugs

Series Masterlist

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was painting the sky of the city pink, Alex Albon and Esteban Ocon had the biggest bag of cocaine either of them had ever seen. The two rarely delt with narcotics for their boss, but tonight he had a special job for the two of them.

Alex kept watch as Esteban, whose body was longer and thinner, worked his way beneath the car. They used the car jack to raise it slightly as Esteban got beneath and stuck the cocaine to the bottom of the car.

Who did this car belong to? Well that doesn't matter. Not for now, anyway.

Giggling, the two took off, driving back to their bosses head quarters.

In this same part of the city, a girl was running from the blue and red flashing lights. That was the problem when you steal cars, you always have to be on the lookout for the polite.

Y/N L/N happened upon this car with the cocaine stuck to the bottom of it. He had maybe a minute before the police car caught up to her. A minute to get the car open and a minute to drive away.

She got the car open easily. It was old, a classic. The owner would be sad to see it go, but that wasn't something she could afford to think about.

Pulling her hat from her head she worked about hot wiring the car and tuned the radio to her liking. Twenty five seconds until the police caught up with her.

The radio was also old, as old as the car. It was going to take her some time before she found the right station.

At least, the end of Rick Astleys 'Never Gonna Give You Up' played and Tears For Fears 'Everybody Wants to Rule The World' began. Y/N grinned as she put the car into gear and floored it, heading towards the outskirts of the city.

She had to lose the cops before she returned to her boss. If she brought the police to his door, she'd never hear the end of it. Or her blood would be spilt. There was no telling.

Y/N managed to get away from the cops. Usually they'd give up and she could drive away, unscathed. But tonight was different. Tonight they weren't giving up.

"Fucking pigs," she muttered as she turned down an alleyway, trying to conceal herself and the car. She cringed as its sides scraped against the walls of the buildings it was squashed between. At least it would be harder to identify now.

But she had fucked it. She went to turn left down the alleyway, only to find herself blocked by a wall. A fucking wall. She was done for, screwed, and in so much trouble.

The police cars pulled in behind her. They had the sense not to follow her down the alleyway and get themselves stuck. Instead, they pulled out their guns and pointed them at the girl in the car, demanding she exit the vehicle.

Y/N wound down the car window. "I can't get the door open!" She called, hoping the police heard her. "So I'm going to break the back window and climb out that way, okay?"

She hasn't a hardened criminal, not in the way that mattered. She'd never had a run in with the police before and she didn't quite know what to do. So, she did as her father had taught her and remained calm and collected. Show them you mean no harm and they won't harm you.

She waited for confirmation from the police office closest to the car before climbing into the back of the car and kicking at the back window. It was no easy task, getting the back window separated from the car. It was a few good kicked before the sheet of glass fell away, allowing her to climb from the car with her hands up.

She was cuffed, placed in the back of a police car and taken to the station while the owner of the car was contacted. They took the cocaine from the car and drove Y/N to the station.

"There's something wrong with your car," she tried to say to the police officers, able to tell from the sound alone. But they weren't having any of it. They shut her up and continued driving to the station.

At the station they placed her in the holding cell. Prostitutes and other criminals surrounded her as she sat on the bench and closed her eyes. She just stole a car, she'd be out of here in no time.

But suddenly a police officer called her name. She opened her eyes and walked over to the door of the holding cell, walking past the petty thieves and flashers.

An officer grabbed her arm and marched her over to his desk. He pushed her into a chair and cuffed her hand to the arm. "So," he began as he sat on the other side of the desk. "Where did you get the coke?"

"Coke?" Y/N asked as she tried sit forward.

The officer let out a sigh. "You know, blow, bump, nose candy, sniff, snow, white rock."

"Hey now, I don't fuck with drugs," she called, slumping back in the chair. "If there was cocaine on that car, it was there before I got to it," she said.

The officer let out another sigh. He uncuffed her from the chair and marched her back to the holding cell. He threw her in locking the door behind her. If she wasn't going to talk, she could rot in there.

But she wasn't going to rot in there. The arresting officer suddenly got a phone call that he rushed to answer. The number was withheld and he knew exactly who it was.

The voice on the other end of the phone was soft, the accent unrecognisable. The voice maybe have been soft, but the officer still did exactly what he said.

"Yes, sir," he said, listening to the person. "Right away, sir."

The person on the other end of the phone hung up and the officer stretched out his limbs. This was maybe his least favourite part of the job, having to let the criminals go because the most powerful man in the city commanded it.

The officer opened the holding cell and grabbed a hold of the girl he had just arrested. He held her arm, his grip bruising as he dragged her out of the holding cell. "Your charges have been taken care of," he grumbled as he marched her out out the precinct, around to the back.

Still holding her arm, he placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

A black van, which had previously been inconspicuously parked in the corner of the parking lot, rumbled to life. The engine was old, clearly, but it sounded amazing. The door slid open and three men, all in pristine suits jumped out. One strode over, a black sack in his hands.

The two others circled around her, taking her from the officer. The officer said nothing and quickly rushed back inside. The two men grabbed her hands and wormed together to tie them behind her back. The bindings were tight, cutting into her skin. But she knew better then to panic.

"Sorry about this," said the third man, standing in front of her. Y/N had just about enough time to study his face, his dark eyes, the moles on his face, his round cheeks ans pillowy lips. His hair, which parted down the middle, soft and fluffy and shiny.

She shrugged her shoulders and he placed the bag over her head.

There was no point fighting them as they walked her to the van, she'd seen their guns the moment they'd jumped out of the van. The two that had tied her hands sat behind her as the pretty one, the one who had placed the bag over her head climbed into the driver's seat.

He always drove, no matter the job. It was what he loved, what he was good at, what kept him calm.

The drive wasn't very long. Or, it hadn't seemed long to the captive, who was trying her best to keep time using the songs playing on the radio. They weren't out of the city, or, they weren't very far outside of it.

"Oh, turn this one up," she said, her words muffled, and the driver did just that, twisting the knob attached to the radio to turn up the volume.

Before too long the driver killed the engine and the sliding door to the van was thrown open. Y/N was dragged to her feet, one man holding each arm, and walked forward. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. The only indicator that she had walked into a building was the stale air, the buzz of the lights overhead and the feeling of the floor beneath her feet. These were the sorts of things you had to learn to survive.

She went into a room, her feet hitting the metal threshold strip that sat between rooms, and was sat in a chair.

The bindings were pulled from her hands and the bag from her head. She blinked quickly, the light flooding into her eyes all too bright.

But then she looked around, looking at the art on the walls surrounding her, at the table in front of her, at the man on the other side of that table.

She knew who she was in an instant, her heart pounding in her chest. His hair was a dirty blonde, combed back out of his face, and the beginnings of a beard surrounded his mouth. His eyes were a little far apart, but it didn't look bad on him. No, he was a very handsome man. Dangerous and terrifying, but handsome.

"You stole from me." That was the first thing his said.

Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from going wide. Him. She wasn't supposed to steal from him. The one rule she had for this job was don't steal from him. If she had known the car belonged to him, she would have run in the other direction. But it was too late now.

"I'm impressed. Nobody has ever had the balls to steal from me before. What makes you different?" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "

Y/N went to push her chair back, but a hand, covered in rings, settled on her shoulder and squeezed. She didn't dare turn to see who was behind her. "I swear, I didn't know it was you're car."

"Don't you know stealing is wrong?" The man in front of her narrowed his eyes. "As soon as the car was on the move, we watched you. That was a pretty good drive, until you fucked up."

Verstappen sat up a little straighter. He sat back and waited, waited for her to say something.

Truth be told, Y/N was a little lost for words. What was he playing at? Did he know who she was?

Suddenly, Verstappen stood up. He signalled for her to stand up and the person behind her pulled her to her feet and pushed her after his boss.

They took her through the halls of a house, with the same amount of pretty art. Verstappen didn't so much as glance at the art as they walked past, and she had a feeling that it wasn't his taste. The man behind her kept his ringed hand on her shoulder as he steered her after Verstappen.

They walked her into a garage and stopped her in the doorway. "Okay," said Verstappen, gesturing to the plethora of cars in front of him. They were all gorgeous cars, better than anything Y/N had ever stolen before. Super cars, classic cars, Verstappen had them all.

"Show me what you got."

TAGLIST (OPEN): @biancathecool @graciewrote

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #mafia!f1 #mafia!au

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #pjo series #pjotv #heroes of olympus #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell imagines #smau #pjo smau #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson smau #pjo au

[specialagentlokitty]

Rick grimes x teen!reader - welcome home

Second I saw you wanted requests from TWD so I thought why not (don’t know if you’ve gotten a request like this before or not but I’ll send it anyway) and I know there’s a lot of these fics out there but as Rick is my favorite character and I love all your fics that I’ve written that I have read I would love to see your take on Rick finding a child or teen and taking said child in - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

Resting your arms on the metal pipe that was behind your neck, you glanced around the street briefly, looking for anything worth looking through.

There wasn’t much in this area, and going by all the broken doors and dead laying on the ground with busted heads you would say somebody had been here.

Crouched next to one of them, you grabbed a stick from your pocket, poking it into the blood to see that it was still pretty fresh.

Tossing the stick aside, you stood up, glancing around and you heard the sound of somebody nearby.

Rushing away, you jumped up on a dumpster, using it to climb on the roof of a building and you pushed it away with the pole, making it creak.

“Shit…”

You moved back from the ledge, quietly laying down, keeping as still and quiet as possible.

You couldn’t hear anything at first, no walkers, no growling, snarling, banging, but you did hear steps coming closer.

There was movement where you had gotten up on the building, but there was no attempt to get up there, so, you weren’t sure if it were dead or human.

Either way you weren’t risking your own life, both you needed to stay away from.

You waited for a few minutes, trying to see what was going to happen, then you heard a clattering sound and you jumped up, grabbing your weapon you aimed at at the ledge you had used to get up.

A man jumped up, and he aimed his gun at you.

You made no attempt to attack him, you didn’t have that kind of firepower, he would win in a heartbeat because you never bring a knife to a gunfight, and you didn’t even have a knife, you had a metal pole.

You stared at him, and he stared back.

“Who are you?” He asked.

You refused to speak.

“Are you alone?”

You didn’t reply, you weren’t a fool, you weren’t going to tell him you were alone.

You took a step back before turning around, breaking out into a sprint you ran to the edge of the building and jumped.

Tossing your weapon, you rolled onto the next roof, picking it back up and the man ran over to the ledge of the building he was on.

He looked over at you and you looked back at him, sitting down as you just watched.

He did the same thing, both of you having a silent stare down, neither of you really speaking.

“I’m Rick.”

Rick studied you, clearly you had been out here for a long time, you clothes were torn slightly, bloodied, dirtied, there wasn’t an inch if you that wasn’t covered in dirt or blood.

He recognised the look on your face, he’d seen it before, the state you were in, he had been in it before.

You couldn’t have been much older than Carl was, you were teenager, maybe 15 or 16 if his guess was right, but nobody knew how old they really were anymore.

You seemed to debate something before you finally spoke.

“(Y/N).” You replied quietly.

Rick smiled a little, raising his hands to show you that he was putting his gun away, and you reached to the side, setting your own weapon down.

“Are you hungry?”

Rick dug through his bag, pulling out an apple and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“It’s alright, it’s safe.”

“You first.”

“You don’t trust me, I respect that. I understand. I don’t have a clean knife on me.”

You scoffed a little.

“I don’t give a fuck, bite it then, I ain’t taking shit until you’ve had it first.”

“Alright.”

Rick bite into it, showing you it was safe to eat and he held it out.

You nodded, getting up, Rick tossed it over and you caught it, sitting back down.

You knew it would be safe, he didn’t even hesitate to eat some of it, if it wasn’t in any way he would have, even just a slight hesitation.

You hadn’t had food for over a day, so you quickly devoured the apple, spitting the seeds to put them in your pocket.

You glanced at Rick, looking away with a small huff.

“You got anymore…?”

He chuckled a little, nodding.

“Yes. Here.”

He tossed you another one, and you took your time eating this one.

“Do you have a community or anything like that? Any people?” Rick asked.

You shook your head.

“Do you?”

“Before I tell you anything I’ve gotta ask you a few questions, that okay?”

You nodded your head, understanding his hesitation.

It gave you an indication he did have something, and he wanted to protect whatever it was, make sure it was safe.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

You furrowed your brows a little in confusion.

“I.. I don’t know what walkers are.”

“The dead.” He said.

“Oh, I don’t know, a lot I guess. I try to just avoid them I’m only one person.”

He nodded.

“How many people have you killed?”

“None, I avoid them too.”

“Why?”

You looked at Rick before turning away, looking at the metal pipe you had, then your hands.

“Because both the dead and people are dangerous, the dead just kill you, but people? People betray you. They’ll turn you over, turn their backs on you just to save their own asses.”

“Yeah, some people will.”

You turned your attention back to the man on the other roof.

“You didn’t answer my question, do you have a community?”

Rick smiled a little.

He had decided that you weren’t a bad person, you were scared, yes. You were unsure, you didn’t trust him, and he understood that.

“Yeah, yeah I do. I was with a few of them, we got separated. You seem pretty aware of your surroundings, have you seen any go by?”

“No, this place as been empty for a few days maybe, aside from you. There were a few of the dead, or walkers. That’s it.”

Rick sighed, nodding his head slightly.

He looked up at the sun, figuring he only had maybe an hour or so left of daylight, and that wouldn’t be enough time to find anybody.

He stood up, and you watched him.

“Come with me, it’s not safe out here and it’s going to get dark. We’ll find a place, just for the night.”

Rick went to leave but when you didn’t move he hesitated, looking between you and the way back down.

“(Y/N)?”

“There’s nowhere safe.”

“My community is, but we can’t make it in time before nightfall.”

“You won’t make it you know. They always come here at night, they pass through.”

Rick furrowed his brows a little bit and you gestured to the left side of the roof he was on.

“I hid some firewood.”

Rick looked to where you pointed, and he moved a bunch of leaves to see that you had hidden wood, a box of matches as well.

He grabbed them, putting them in a scorch mark that was already made on the roof.

As nightfall, he lit the fire and you stayed over where you were, not trusting him enough ti get any closer and that’s what worried him.

“(Y/N) please, it’s cold, you’ll freeze over there.”

“Nah, you stay there, I stay here.”

“Fine, what if we swap? You hear and me there?”

You shook your head.

“Nah, you’re too old to make that jump anyways.”

He chuckled a little, resting his arm in the edge of the roof as he looked over.

“You reckon?”

“Yeah, you’re old as shit.”

“Ouch, okay. I’m here trying to make friends and you’re just throwing insults at me.”

You grinned a little at him, leaning back on your hands.

“Rick?”

He hummed a little, looking over at you.

“What did you do before all of this?”

“I was a sheriff’s deputy. What about you? Were you in school?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t much good at it though.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, it was just hard I guess.”

Rick smiled a little.

“It’s not for everybody.”

He got up to add some more wood to the fire, and he heard you jump back over, sitting near it.

He smiled a little, sitting on the other side so you felt safer.

There were walkers down below, but they didn’t seem to care about the fire or see it, and it made sense to Rick why you were camping up there.

You saw his bag and you reached over, and he turned away so he could pretend he didn’t see you sneaking food from it.

You were hungry, and he wasn’t going to stop you from taking what you needed.

He had a whole community of food, and you had barely anything.

“What’s your community like?” You asked.

Rick looked at you, shuffling a little to the side so he was able to see you a little better.

“Well, there’s people, houses, electricity, clean, running water. Food, walls and gates. It’s safe.”

You frowned.

“Walls fall, crumble. Gates break. Food and water runs out. Just because something seems safe doesn’t mean it is…”

“Maybe, but we’ll fight to keep it safe.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s home, a place for us to stay, a place to build and grow.”

You reached into your pocket, and you pulled out some paper, unfolding it and you handed it over to him.

“We had a home like that. But my mom and dad didn’t think it was safe, so they left.”

Rick took it, looking at the drawing.

He could tell it was drawn by a younger child, by you from the way you had hastily scribbled your name in the top corner of the page.

He recognised the place, by the walls surrounding it, and the very badly spelt name.

“You’re from Alexandria?”

You nodded.

“We were, but when things got worse my parents didn’t want to be sitting like prey. They couldn’t pretend everything was fine, so we all left. They died, leaving me alone out here. Been like that for a while now.”

“Do you want to go back?”

You thought for a moment, from what you could remember Alexandria had food, it sounded like what Rick had described.

But you didn’t trust people anymore.

You weren’t used to people anymore.

“I came from Alexandria (Y/N). It’s changed, I won’t lie to you some people have died, but it till standing.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, so just think about. Our gates are always open to you. But right now you need some rest, okay? I’ll keep watch.”

You didn’t say anything, and you laid down, hands on your stomach as you stared at the sky trying to keep awake.

But you were exhausted, you’d been awake for days, and Rick posed no threat, so you fell asleep.

Rick noticed this and he covered you up with his jacket, sitting nearby to keep an eye on you.

When the sun began to rise you woke up, finding Rick standing on the edge of the building, talking to somebody down below.

You sat up, his jacket falling and you stood up, grabbing his jacket and your weapon, making your way over.

You set his jacket down and you stood on the edge beside him, looking down at the man who was on the ground.

He aimed his crossbow at you, and Rick quickly put an arm in front of you.

“Daryl no. (Y/N) is from Alexandria. Before we got there.”

“You ask the questions?”

“Yeah. Passed.”

Daryl lowered his weapon, and Rick turned to you.

“He’s a friend..” he whispered.

“Come on, we need to go. There’s more walkers comin’!” Daryl called up.

He ran to the side of the building and Rick picked his jacket up, pulling it back on and grabbed his bag, making his way over.

He jumped down, and you looked down at him.

Rick smiled, holding out his hand to you.

“It’s alright.” He said gently.

You sat down, and turned around, lowering yourself towards the dumpster, as Rick helped you down, then helped you down from there.

He and Daryl stood on either side of you, and while Daryl was wary of you, Rick would offer you a reassuring smile if you looked at him.

You saw the gates of Alexandria drawing closer, and they were open, and you slowly stopped.

You hadn’t been here for years, you hadn’t been anywhere safe for years.

Rick stopped short of the gates and he turned around, giving you a gentle smile and he walked back over.

“Hey, hey it’s okay…” he whispered.

“What if it isn’t..?”

“It will be, you’ll be safe.”

He glanced back at Daryl and a few others who were waiting nervously, looking around with their weapons raised.

You glanced past him and he stood in front of you.

“Hey, don’t worry about them. Just focus on me, yeah? You don’t have to interact with anybody else until you’re ready, just focus on me, I’ll look after you.”

You moved your eyes to his, they reminded you of your dads.

The way you dad would look at you so gently, so caring.

Rick held out his hand, and you reached up, hand shaking and you pulled away.

“I can’t do it… I.. I can’t…”

“I know you’re scared, that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared (Y/N), but we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

He glanced back, giving a look to the others who began to clear people away from the gates.

“Welcome home.” He smiled.

You reached up, taking his hand, letting him walk you into the place you once called home, the place you would call your home once more.

But times had changed, you had changed, and you didn’t know how to live among people anymore, or even if you wanted to.

Rick could see that by the way you kept your the outside of the place, you turned the underground of Alexandria into your home to stay away from everybody.

Rick made his way down, a bag on his back, and he walked over to your cot, sitting next to you.

“Here, some water, food, and some books.”

He set the bag down and you handed him back to the books you were finished with.

He didn’t want to leave you down there, but if it’s where you felt safe, where you would be semi comfortable until you trusted him, felt comfortable with people he would.

But he would always remind you that you come join the rest of Alexandra whenever you were ready

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #Rick grimes #Rick grimes x reader #Rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes imagine

[catt-leya]

wicked || rick grimes x negan x fem!reader

Me: I've never written anything like this before...soooo it's a little experiment 💗

summary: negan has a crush on your boyfriend, so you decide to spice your sex life up...

warnings: claiming, dirty talk, sharing a girl, hints of male x male (nothing specific just some simping over rick) and my usual smutty stuff

As you've been doing for several weeks now, you wander around Alexandria with your lunch in your bowl, heading for a very specific building.

It has become a kind of routine that you actually wouldn't want to miss.

The sun warms your bare shoulders and your eyes roam over the place you call home.

A lot has changed since you first set foot behind the height walls.

So much.

And yet it feels like you've been here forever.

The people transporting crops to trade with other groups, the beautiful fields of flowers, and the couple kissing in the warmth of the sun.

Sighing contentedly, you continue on your way and descend the stairs to a cell.

Using the key you took from your house, you unlock the door and call out, "Hi there, I'm back," into the room.

There is a small window that barely lets in enough light to see the room as a whole, but it also makes it much cooler, and you step into the room to close the door behind you.

Immediately your eyes fall on the chair that's in the exact same spot you left it yesterday and your free hand slides over the grate on your right before you sit down on the chair facing the grate and a deep voice reaches your ear, "Shit, sweetie, I thought you weren't coming to see me today."

Grinning, you pull your legs up onto the seat and reach for the spoon in the bowl, "Did you miss me?"

In fact, you were actually scheduled to run errands outside today, but it was rescheduled on short notice and so now you can come visit him after all.

In the shadows of the cell, he slides closer to you, "Fuck yeah."

You laugh softly and he is now so close to the bars of the cell that you can make out his face.

Who would have thought you would get along so well with Negan?

You'd even say you were friends.

As you hear footsteps outside, your eyes dart nervously to the door and you hear your counterpart laugh harshly, "Ohho, is my little girl afraid that the big bad wolf is going to come get her and punish her for talking to someone else?"

Snorting, you roll your eyes and growl, "Not true at all."

Negan's eyes flash dangerously, "He doesn't want you to come visit me, right? After all, he barely comes down to see me himself."

The look he gives you makes you raise your eyebrows.

You've noticed it before, and every time you talk about Rick.

"You think about Rick a lot, huh?" you try to put it across teasingly, but when he flinches and growls, "You're just thinking about him. Especially since he's your lover."

He's got a point.

Rick is your boyfriend, but still, Negan seems to have a weird sort of obsession with Rick, and you bite your lower lip, "You sure we're not similar there?"

It's a little banter between friends and before Negan can say anything back, the door is yanked open and Rick comes marching in, "Love? You're down here again."

His body shields most of the light coming through the door and you have to blink a few times to get used to the new lighting conditions, "Yeah. Need me?"

Briefly, Rick's gaze darts to Negan's cell before he sighs, "I'd like to fix the railing behind our house and I could use your help."

Smiling, you stand up and set your bowl down on the chair before walking over to your boyfriend and giving him a quick kiss.

Rick's hands gently slide onto your butt and you turn to Negan to say goodbye, that's when you see the look he's giving you.

At first you think it's jealous of Rick that he can just touch your butt like that, but as you're about to tease him about it, you realize you're completely wrong.

He's staring at Rick.

Not because he's jealous of him.

No, he's jealous of you.

Shit, now you get it.

It makes sense.

Every time he asked about Rick.

Every time he sought Rick's proximity during the war.

Every ambiguous line was meant to be taken seriously.

Negan has a crush on Rick and the only thing that slips past your lips is, "Shit, we're actually alike. At least we have the same taste."

Immediately Negan jerks his head around and stares at you almost pleadingly as Rick asks harshly, "What are you talking about, love?"

Your eyes are glued to Negan and you can't suppress a wide grin at all, which only makes the man in the cell more panicked.

Negan doesn't want Rick to know.

He definitely doesn't want him to.

So you raise an eyebrow and murmur sugary-sweet, "We like the same kind of books."

You can literally see the tension drain from Negan's shoulders and he leans back.

In the end, he's kind of a friend of yours, and it's not your place to tell Rick that Negan has a crush on him.

Gently, Rick pulls you toward the exit, "Come on."

But you break away from him and as you reach for your bowl, you give Negan a quick wink before following Rick out.

In fact, maybe you should be upset that Negan has a crush on your boyfriend, but somehow you think it's cute and maybe you feel a little sorry for Negan because Rick just doesn't like him that way. He still just barely tolerates him.

The next day, you practically sprint to Negan's cell and when he sees you sigh, "Sweetie, don't ask."

Grinning, you stop, "I'm not asking you. I'm stating."

You lean against the bars, "You have a crush on my boyfriend."

Your grin widens even more, "Do you want to fuck him, or do you want him to fuck you?"

You tease him further, "I could describe to you what it's like to be taken by him."

Silently, the man in the cell stares at you and you tease further, "You know, Rick is not a gentle man. He can be caring, but never really gentle."

Negan's gaze is anything but impassive and you purr, "He's always beating himself into me. God, he fills me up so well. He's so heavy and hard inside me, I can hardly form another thought."

"Stop it," his voice is rough and a first response to your words.

Your gaze darts over him and you see his half-hard cock showing in his pants, "Does it turn you on?"

Negan avoids your gaze and murmurs again, "Stop it."

An idea comes to you.

It's whacky, but why wouldn't it work?

You bite your lower lip, "You want Rick to touch you? I could make it work."

Immediately Negan jerks his head up at you and the small hope in his gaze, makes you smile broadly again, "He won't jerk you off, but he'll talk to you and you'll be able to feel his hands on your body if you want him to."

So far, he hasn't confirmed with a word that he wants Rick.

Until now.

"How are you going to make that work. Rick's not into guys, or at least not into me, sweetie," he looks up at you and you let your hands slide over the bars, "You're fucking me."

Negan chokes on his own spit, "What?"

"Are you able to get hard so you can fuck me? Rick would be there the whole time. You can look at him, but you have to be able to stay hard inside me," the idea picks up steam in your head and Negan repeats, "Fuck, what are you talking about?"

Your gaze slides back to his crotch, "Rick always wanted to let another man fuck me while he watched. We just never got around to it. If you can fuck me, then I can get Rick to let you out of the cell for it."

He looks at you dumbly.

He stares at you.

You don't think he's going to answer anymore.

Then he says, "Yes."

A single word that changes so much and gets you hot right away.

Negan is a handsome man and with Rick's instructions, it's going to be a brilliant fuck.

"I'll get Rick," with those words you turn and leave Negan's cell.

As you open the proposal to Rick, the first thing he mumbles is, "Negan?"

You nod, "Yes. Why not? I'd feel better if it wasn't necessarily a friend here from Alexandria."

It's a bit of a lie, maybe, because you'd do it yourself with Daryl as long as Rick was around and he liked getting you laid, too.

Rick's beautiful blue eyes glisten in the light of the sun and his eyes slide over your body, "Don't let him cum inside you."

You nod and he grabs your chin, "He's not touching you and he's just fucking you. That's all. No kissing and not a word from him."

If only Rick knew that Negan wants to touch and kiss him and not you.

So you nod and he pulls you up on your toes to kiss you hard.

Even when Rick lets another man fuck you, he always makes it clear that you belong to him and no one else.

The fact is, you already know that no one will be able to fuck you like that. 

Rick is one of a kind and he knows it.

With Rick in tow, you re-enter the anteroom of Negan's cell and immediately he looks up. Negan's eyes dart from you to Rick and back to you again, staying glued on you even as Rick walks to his cell door and unlocks it.

Negan doesn't budge and now stares at Rick, who asks surprisingly calmly, "You want to fuck her?"

You know full well he doesn't care much about your pussy, but as you expect, he nods and Rick takes a step back to give him enough room to squeeze past him.

With no cell between you, Negan stands in front of you at his full height and looks back at Rick.

Very close, your boyfriend stands in front of Negan and looks up at him.

Negan is taller than Rick. 

Not by much, but enough that Rick has to turn his pretty blue eyes up a bit.

If you looked up that way, it would come across as submissive, but that's not the case with Rick at all.

The size difference doesn't matter at all because Rick radiates pure superiority.

Tensely, you look back and forth between the two men as Rick says again in that creepily calm tone of voice, "You don't touch her or speak a word to her and don’t even think about cumming inside of her. You just fuck her, understand?"

Again, Negan nods and Rick stops in front of him for a few more seconds, stabbing him with his gaze.

He's probably wondering why the usually articulate Negan is suddenly so unnaturally quiet and submissive.

Also, how would Rick know that it's the chance of a lifetime for Negan to finally have at least a part of Rick.

Then Rick nods too and turns to you, "Are you okay with this?"

Your heart is pounding to your throat, but you respond with, "Yes, Rick."

Without another word, he turns his back on both of you and walks to the small table in the corner of the room.

In that small moment when Rick turns his attention away from you, you look at Negan to read what he might be thinking.

But as you turn your eyes to him, you realize how idiotic the attempt is, because he's staring so openly at Rick that you briefly wonder how it could be that you never noticed it until now, and especially how it could be that Rick, hasn't noticed it until now.

The scraping of the table legs being dragged across the floor focuses your attention on the man with the blue eyes.

He pulls the table into the center of the room and then comes back toward you, pulling you against his chest.

His familiar warmth passes over to you and he leans in to kiss you softly on your slightly parted lips.

Rick always feels so good.

So incredibly good.

As he slowly but firmly leads you to the edge of the table and you whimper softly into the loving kiss as he lifts you by your hips onto the edge.

Immediately you open your legs for him and like the well-rehearsed team that you are, he gets between them and presses his crotch against yours.

Negan is forgotten for a brief moment, but then you get an idea.

In the end, you want him to like it, so you break away from Rick, breathing heavily, and reach for his belt.

Confused, he looks at you, "What are you doing?"

Under your lashes, you dare a shy glance at Negan, who stares at your hands as you undo Rick's belt, "May I?"

Now Rick looks even more confused, "Are you asking me if you can jerk me off?"

Lasciviously you look up at him, "Yes?"

A harsh laugh slips from his throat, "Love, you can jerk me off whenever you want and you know it."

Slowly, you undo the button of his pants and pull them down enough for you to pull his hardening cock out of his pants.

At the first contact with your hand, Rick flinches and braces himself next to you on the table.

With skillful movements, you run your hand along his cock and, breathing heavily, he presses his face against your neck, giving us the opportunity to look unhindered at Negan.

As you have already expected, his hard-on stands out in his pants and his eyes are literally glued to your hand.

Restlessly Negan steps from one leg to the other and when he finally looks you in the eye, Rick moans softly and you tell Negan to come a little closer.

Quietly Negan takes a small step toward you and Rick and still with his face buried against your neck Rick growls, "Oh fuck."

His thick cock twitches in your hand and he pushes his hips harder against you, but you let go, whereupon he jerks his head up.

His curls fly in every conceivable direction at the movement, and as he looks at you accusingly, you realize he's completely forgotten that Negan is still there, too, and your pussy is so fucking wet you desperately need a cock inside you.

Rick is generally a man who always cares more about your pleasure and satisfaction than his own, but right now his head seems to have completely shut off.

He stares at you like he's surprised to see you before shaking his head and muttering, "You're right. Sorry."

He slides his hands over your bare legs, which are not covered by your shorts, and you automatically spread your legs even wider for him, but he steps back, "Negan?"

Rick's accent is much wider than usual with arousal and as he pulls his pants up over his hard cock, Negan moves even closer.

Your boyfriend doesn't even bother to close his pants as he looks to the man in the background, "Come here."

You look to Negan as Rick grabs your neck and steps completely out of your legs and past the table to your right, pushing you back against the table in this way.

The surprised sound catches in your throat as he squeezes a little tighter, watching Negan move to stand in his place between your legs.

Your eyes dart back and forth from the man behind you and in front of you, and suddenly you feel hot.

In Rick's eyes you can see that he's going to go through with it, and up until this point you didn't really believe it was going to happen.

But as Rick walks past you again on the other side and sets your legs up to pull your pants off along with your panties, you know that Negan is going to fuck you and Rick is going to stand there and watch him do it.

Rick's warm palm slides over your bare hip and you feel so exposed you try to squeeze your legs together, but Rick reads your body faster and grabs your knees.

Gripping the edge of the table with your sweaty hands, you don't resist as Rick steps behind you again and leans forward a bit to pull your knees toward him and press them against your chest.

Wide open you lie in front of the two men and as a slight breeze passes through the room you feel how wet you are already, even though hardly anything has happened.

You can imagine what the two men see just in front of them and how your pussy must glisten for them.

Because Rick has to bend so far forward, your nose is pressed against his chest when you try to look up, so you have no choice but to look between your wide spread legs at Negan, seeing Rick's beard in the corner of your eye.

Rick prepares you for Negan and then looks at him, "Go. Fuck my girlfriend. Her pussy is wet enough."

He talks like you're just a piece of meat to him and unfortunately for you, it turns you on and you start squirming in his grip.

"Take your fucking pants off and stuff her cunt," Rick's voice is low and Negan stands there completely frozen.

It's weird to see Negan like this, and as Negan moves even closer to you, you know why he's being so weird.

If he's screwing you, then he's forced to stand practically nose to nose with Rick.

There would be inches separating them.

You can feel both men on your body and it makes you way too weak.

Especially when Negan reaches into his pants and pulls his hard cock out of his pants.

Roughly, you groan at the sight and your pussy pulses around the yawning emptiness inside you.

Negan's cock is thick and rock hard.

You realize he's not hard because of you, but somehow it turns you on even more that Rick is turning him on and he's going to sink his cock inside you anyway.

As agreed, without saying a word or touching you, he puts his cock to your pussy and you whimper Rick's name.

"Shhh, I know love. Let him in," Rick's grip tightens as Negan pushes his tip inside you and you rebel with a moan.

Negan's eyes are dark and a rough growl comes from his throat.

He may want Rick, but your pussy must feel heavenly to him.

So good that he thrusts into you to the hilt and you moan hoarsely.

Sluggishly, you disengage your hands from the edge of the table and reach into Rick's shirt instead.

His scent fills your nose as Negan thrusts into you again and a soft "fuck" slips across his lips.

When Rick is probably sure you're going to stay down, he lets go of you and tugs your hands off his shirt, "Let go, love."

Groaning, you let go and tear your eyes open as he walks around you to stand next to Negan.

Immediately, he jerks his head around and you feel his cock twitch violently inside you as Rick puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Harder."

You'd give a lot to know what Negan is thinking about at this moment.

Just as Rick has demanded of him, his thrusts become harder and more impatient.

He even slips in rhythm as Rick disappears behind him for a moment, only to reappear on the other side next to him and goes to your face again.

Slowly, he leans over you and places his lips on yours parted by moans, "You're doing good, love. So, so good."

Negan moans, "Oh shit" As Rick looks him in the eye while he kisses you and lets your hand move between your legs.

The thought that it's someone else's hand stroking your clit than the cock that's inside you makes you arch your back and because Rick's hand is way too close to Negan's cock, you both cum at the same time.

At the last second he pulls his cock out of you and his hot cum spurts onto your stomach.

It just rolls over you and you and Negan cum because of one and the same man.

Frantically you grab Rick's crotch with your head still somewhere else and howl, "Let me suck."

You barely catch Rick pressing his tip between your lips and you start sucking.

You suck as hard as you can while Negan's trembling body leans against yours and his cock rests heavily on your belly.

Hoarsely, Rick just keeps bringing out how beautiful you are and how good you are to him.

He approves every stroke of your lazy tongue and as he comes in your mouth you swallow it all, down to the last drop.

Rick's cum down your throat and Negan's spread across your belly.

It's so fucking wicked and yet you miss Negan's body as again he staggers and takes a few steps back.

Gratefully, you look at your boyfriend and he tilts his head, "I know why you wanted Negan."

You hear Negan take a frantic breath, but Rick's eyes are only on you as he mutters, "Don't think I don't notice when someone drives themselves to orgasm because of me."

Only now does he look at Negan, "And today, two people came because of me."

Taglist: @hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @starsaroundmyscxrss @starkstiless @easystreet07 @darylsonlylove @your-shifting-gurl @strnqer @dreamtofus @lincolnswidow@rickswh0r3 @iluvdixon @sinsandsweetness @beekassyy@blazeemma @littlelovingideas @eternalrose81 @stickyfaceinternet

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x negan x reader #negan x reader #twd #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd x reader #the walking dead #negan smut #negan smith #negan x rick

[ma1dita]

🐥

okay I dont wanna seem annoying but it's 10:53pm and the ideas r coming in but I already sent an ask in so do whichever u want first 😭

bf!Luke when he's sick headcanons? (can be in an au where they're js normal ppl or can be them at camp, your choice !! 🫶🏼

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: LIVVVVV i truly believe that if this man was sick with an SO that would take care of him he would be the biggest bitch alive just because he can

at camp:

it starts with a sniffle, luke trying to be oh so brave about it until he can’t ignore the sneezes that sound like they could shake the earth and all of cabin 11 (if you think those kids barely got sleep in general, you should see them get mad at luke’s dumbass going ACHOO for the 47th time that night)

so they rightfully complain to you to go get your man and drag his ass to the infirmary, because the cabin counselor he is loves taking care of others but throws a fit when they tell him to get checked out by the apollo kids talking bout “i don’t get sick, i’m too cool to get sick! heroes don’t get—”

yeah so he has the flu

one stern look from you sends him packing towards the infirmary, dragging his feet in the dirt and complaining the whole way

he puts up a fight the whole time, swatting the healer’s hands away to the point they want to tie him to the bed, and luke doesn’t like not winning

“luke just listen to the fucking healer and you’ll be out of here faster.” “bedrest! they want me to be strapped down here forever, babe, you know i don’t like not moving for that long! though if you were the one tying me down…” *sniffles innocently*

a cold towel smacks him in the face

you end up nursing his nasty germ-riddled ass back to health in a corner of the infirmary that you have to make your own for the next week and a half. 

but if you ask him, he felt fine after a few days—he just likes being taken care of by you

im bored lets do modern hcs too:

in this universe he’s still a little shit but at least you two live together in a cute little city apartment

luke’s laid out on the couch wrapped up in some of your coziest throw blankets as he scrolls through old reruns of friends, laughing at chandler’s humor because i imagine it to be a lot like his own (of course, if rick let him be funny instead of traumatized and an antagonist)

you’re making chicken noodle soup in the kitchen and the smell wafts through the air of your apartment even if he’s so congested his voice sounds funny when he talks

i think you guys would have two cats, brother and sister—absolute menaces, pouncing on him in turns trying to resuscitate their dad from his lifeless form on the couch to throw their little mouse toy around

that or a really big senior dog who sleeps at his feet and turns its head every time luke makes a funny noise

oh he’s still annoying in this one trust—you gave him a little silver dinner bell to ring if he needs you since you’re working from home in the other room but the problem is this man always needs you

ring. “babe!’ ring. “baby!” ring ring. “love of my life, absolute goddess among—*wheeze* humans, can you come here a second?”

“what’s up, honey?” “oh i just needed to see your pretty face. feeling better already!” 

you toss a pillow at his head and get back to your meeting.

when it’s over though, you join him in his little blanket fortress and he lays on your chest, sniffling and smiling as he pulls you into a kiss and thanking you for existing

you get sick after but it’s worth it. sort of like payback

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩ #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎ #for my gn babies (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

[ghostboneswrites2]

The Girl in the Shack || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl & Aaron are out recruiting when they find you holed up in an old shack.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, nongraphic allusions to SA & general abuse, killing, TWD typical violence, description of malnourishment

        The sunlight filtered through the small cracks in the tiny shack, dust particles floating peacefully in the small beams of light. You had been there for days, too weak to move on. You didn't even feel the pain anymore, not from the bruises or the hunger. Not from how dry your throat was or how cracked and bloody your lips were. All you felt was tired as you stared up at the ceiling, crumpled up on the floor like you were already dead. You would be, soon, probably.

        That day was particularly nice. Daryl enjoyed the light breeze as it blended with the warm air. Perfect weather. He and Aaron were trekking silently through the woods. Aaron said he had a lead on a small group of men before Rick's group came along and he decided to pursue them instead. Now that Rick's people were settling in among the Alexandrians, Aaron wanted to give that lead one last chance before they moved on to scouting a different area.

        "Last I saw them, they camped out right over here, outside this little shack." Aaron told Daryl, as the two men came to a halt when they emerged from the trees into the small clearing around the dilapidated wooden structure. Daryl didn't speak, instead silently making a circle around the shack, examining the small signs of life left behind by this supposed group of men. There was definitely a fire there, and people, as he could see the tracks and some singed fallen foliage, but he wasn't sure the tracks were fresh enough to follow. They were hard to identify as it was. After all, this would have been at least two weeks ago, now.

        Daryl circled back to Aaron and gave him a nod, to signify that the coast was clear, before they decided to check inside. They moved for the door with silent steps, slowly pushing it open. You, in an act of pure, fear fueled adrenaline, shuffled to your feet and pushed your back against the wall opposite to the door, squinting at the raw daylight that cascaded over you. The two men stood stunned, taking in the tragic sight of you.

        You were clearly malnourished, as your bones were defined anywhere your skin was showing. Your lips were as crackled and bloody as they felt. Most of all, you had bruises over your entire frame, head to toe. Not just ordinary bruising, either. These were the kind that looked painted on. There were so many shades of green, yellow, purple, blue, and almost black. You pressed harder against the wooden panels behind you the longer they stared.

        "A--Are you okay?" Aaron was the first to speak. You didn't answer, you just studied him intently, watching his hands for any sudden movements before your eyes flicked over to Daryl, and back to Aaron when he spoke again. "Are you thirsty? I have water."

        You swallowed dryly at the mention of water. You didn't know how long it had been since anything liquid made it past your lips but it had been long enough to kill you by this point. Aaron could read the signs of dehydration all over you as he slowly reached in his pack and pulled out a full bottle of water. He held it out to you. "Here you go." He offered. "Untouched. Still sealed."

        After you took some time to consider, you ultimately decided you couldn't resist even if you wanted to. In the blink of an eye you snatched the bottle, causing Aaron to flinch at the quick movement. The two of them couldn't take their eyes off you. The way the whites of your eyes contrasted the dark bruising around them was uncanny. Your hair was so matted up that you leaves and dust clumped together within the knots. You looked absolutely feral, and your actions didn't exactly give off a different impression. You cowered in fear, but your eyes were full of rage, like a feral cat.  Beyond that, your clothes were torn and hung from your body loosely, like tender meat sliding off the bone. You had definitely been through something unimaginable.

        "Would you like some food?" Aaron offered softly, after they watched you down three quarters of the water in just few gulps. You looked at him with that same look of desperation and apprehension. He nodded, and passed you over a jar of applesauce that he liked to carry around, just to show people that they had an apple orchard nearby. Part of his selling point, he guessed.

        You flipped the top of the jar and poured it in  your mouth quickly, gulping loud as you swallowed the sweet sauce. When it was gone, and the men were still there, you realized you had no idea why they were helping you, or what they wanted. Aaron picked up on the sudden curiosity and offered you a smile. A warm, friendly, welcoming smile that you hadn't seen in a long time. The only people that smiled out there were the ones who relished in pain and suffering of others.  This one was different.

        "My name is Aaron, and this is Daryl." He introduced himself and his partner. Your eyes flicked between the two. Quite the contrast, as Aaron was clean cut and maybe even  a little casual, while Daryl was more grungy and dark, at least in the wardrobe department. The way Aaron looked at you was open and maybe even a little nervous, while Daryl's gaze was more narrow and calculated, as if he'd catch even the slightest sign of malicious intent.

        You decided neither of them could have been helping you out of the kindness of their hearts. Kindness always came with strings attached, at least in this world. You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth together tightly,  and sucked in a deep breath. You clenched your fists as you mustered the courage to speak.

        "Just get it over with." You said. Your voice was laced with defeat and irritation. You looked away from the two men, staring blankly at the aging wooden walls.

        "I'm sorry?" Aaron tilted his head, knitting his eyebrows together.

        "Easy way or the hard way, right? If I surrender now can you just make it quick?" You asked with a quiver in your voice. 

        "Woah, we're not here to hurt you." Aaron said, eyes growing wide at the realization of what you were implying. 

        You allowed your eyes to peek back  over at them. They eyed you sympathetically. Even Daryl's untrusting glare softened when he realized what had happened to you, why you looked so rough.

        "Why don't you step out here?" Aaron suggested. "I--We come from a community. A big one, with walls, and food, and lots of nice people. We can help you. That's our job."

        "Community?" You asked. The word seemed to take your breath away. "I--I--'

        "It's okay." Aaron assured, stepping back a little and offering you his hand. "We promise. No tricks. Just good people trying to help. Come on out."

        When you took his hand and stepped out of the tiny shack, the sun illuminated you in your entirety. Daryl took notice of where your shirt had been ripped, exposing a large portion of your ribs. He noticed a boot print shaped bruise and his fists clenched a little.

        "That bruise." He nodded to it. "You know who did it?"

        "Not their names." You shook your head. "Just some guys."

...

        A week had gone by. As promised, Aaron and Daryl led you back to their community safely. Alexandria. Aaron's pictures did it no justice. It was an absolute paradise. A warm bed, hot showers, food, water, everything you could ask for at your own disposal. 

        A nice blonde lady named Jessie had come by on your first day and detangled your hair. She even trimmed it up to get rid of the split ends. She told you it would help keep it from matting up again. Later that day she brought you a basket of supplies, like food and hygienic products. Soap, a brush, even toothpaste and a toothbrush. You were still convinced it was all a dream, even a week later.

        Deanna, the leader, had checked in on you daily and reminded you that whenever you were ready, to come see her and she would give you a job chosen specially for you. She also still needed to finish your interview, as you weren't really in the place for that upon arrival.

        You were getting ready for a dinner at Aarons.  He stopped by to check in and offer you a meal. You had a little trouble eating a lot at once with how much your stomach shrank with starvation, but you couldn't turn down a real, homecooked meal. Not when a week ago you would have probably killed for a slice of bread.

        You smiled as you put on soft, clean clothes that actually smelled good and didn't feel stiff and crusty with blood and sweat. You couldn't believe you were in such a dilemma, but you had a hard time choosing a shirt. What was proper dinner attire? You just settled on a long sleeved gray V-neck that clung to your body. It reminded you of something you would have worn to high school or something. 

        When you checked the time, you realized you only had a few minutes until seven, when Aaron told you they'd be ready. You hadn't met Eric, but you heard about him from Aaron and how he was a nice cook. You took a breath to inflate yourself with some semblance of confidence before you headed two streets over and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for them to open the it, Aaron's smiling face greeting you nicely.

        "(Y/N). Glad you could make it." He grinned, stepping aside to allow you space to enter. You stepped in and looked around the house. It was nice, a little bigger than the one they gave you, but that was okay. You didn't need much space, and more space meant more places for threats to hide. "Dining room's that way. Make yourself comfortable. Eric's just finishing up the food. I'll go get the wine."

        "Wine?" You gawked, earning a small chuckle from your host. 

        "A particularly sweet one, I might add."

        Before long you were sipping wine and enjoying a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Aaron and Eric made small talk with you, and surprisingly you felt pretty comfortable chatting back. There was a small knock at the door that interrupted the conversation.

        "Oh. Must be Daryl. Hope you don't mind, (Y/N), we usually have Daryl over for dinner on Tuesdays." Aaron said as he stood from the table. You shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into your mouth as he walked away, chuckling at your content attitude. 

        "When's the last time you had a real meal?" Eric asked. You set your spoon down and wiped your mouth, looking up to the ceiling as you tried to recall.

        "I'm honestly not sure." You admitted. "Probably the night before the outbreak hit my hometown. I had made alfredo and chicken parm for the first time. Burned the chicken to hell but the noodles were good."

        "Wow." He said, sadly. "I'm sorry you've had it so hard all this time."

        "Yeah." You nodded.

        Aaron entered the room with Daryl, who looked much cleaner than the day you met him, and the two of them took a seat. Daryl sat beside you, opposite to Aaron and Eric.

        "I'll get your plate." Eric announced, heading into the kitchen.

        Daryl snuck a few glances in your direction. You were still bruised up but they had faded into a lighter range of yellow and purple, as opposed to how dark they were last time he saw you. Your hair looked shiny and soft, and most of all you looked human. He thought about how long he and his people had been on the road, how close they were to losing their humanity. They still looked better than you when they first got here. He thought you were a goner when he met you, that maybe the world had taken away everything that made you a person. He was glad to see that he was wrong, and shocked at how friendly you seemed to be. 

        All things considered, you cleaned up well and you were actually pretty now that he could see you without all the grime and suffering. 

        "Hey." You said timidly, offering a shy, thin lipped smile.

        "Hey." He grunted. "You been alright?"

        "Um.. Probably better than I've been in years." You chuckled nervously. He nodded, understanding.

        "It's a lot to get used to." He said.

        "I think I stayed in the shower of over an hour that first night." You admitted. 

        "Hope you like chicken." Eric chimed as he stepped into the dining room and set Daryl's plate in front of him, along with a glass of wine. The man began eating immediately, bite after bite, finishing before anyone else, and sucking his fingers clean. You could tell he was used to being out there in the world, and that he was good at surviving. You wished you were the same.

        "So, (Y/N), Daryl and I.." Aaron trailed off, taking a breath as he tried to find a gentle way to ask. "Well, the men that did that to you. We were hoping you could give us a description, maybe."

        "Why?" You asked, suddenly tense. Your throat felt tight as your mind raced at the mention of them. "Do you think they're here?"

        "No! No. Nothing like that." Aaron assured. "We just--"

        "I'm gon' find them bastards and beat 'em for all they're worth." Daryl spoke up. You looked at him with wide eyes, still trying to calm your racing heart.

        "What he means is that we wanted to make sure they never  cross paths with any of our people here." Aaron added.

        "Well, they had, um.. There were three of them, and they all had beards, and they, um--"

        "What were their races? What were they wearing?" Eric asked, trying to help guide you as you recalled their appearances.

        "Oh. I think they were all white. Not old but not young. Maybe in their forties? And they all had jeans and boots on and different shirts."

        "Perfect. Thank you. We're sorry we had to ask, but--"

        "It's okay."  You cut Aaron off. "If it helps then I get it."

...

        That dinner was two weeks ago. You were surprised when Daryl stopped by your house every few days to check on you. Sometimes he'd even stay for a while and watch a DVD with you or let you make him some food.

        When he came over one evening in the middle of one of your movies you were welcoming.  You were glad to make a friend. 

        "Hey!" You grinned. "I was just watching this corny rom-com. I'll restart it so we can suffer together." 

        He didn't say anything as he stepped in, and you giddily rushed over to the DVD player to restart the film.

        "Oh! Eric brought me some whiskey, too. I'll go get it." You rambled. "And, that lady Carol brought me some cookies, and I found some chips at the pantry. Jessie said they usually go to Deanna's family but she let me take them this time--"

        "We got 'em." He said. You paused, confused.

        "The chips?" You tilted your head.

        "Nah. Them assholes. We got 'em." He said. "Bunch o' sorry pricks. Just killed some guy for his car when we found 'em."

        You stared at him, wide eyed, as you took in what he was saying. You let out a breath as you plopped back on the couch.

        "Y'alright?" He asked, stepping closer to you.

        "Y--Yeah, I--I just wasn't--" You stuttered, unable to form a response. He gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts. "I guess I just didn't think you'd actually find them. Figured they'd be long gone by now."

        "I told you I'd get 'em." He said, taking a seat beside you. You chest felt tight. You wanted to feel the relief he worked so hard to give you, but somehow the image of them just sent you into panic, alive or dead. "Hey." He said, gently pushing a finger under your jaw to tilt your head toward him. You looked at him as you blinked back tears. "They're gone. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you like that again. Now go get them snacks and that whiskey and lets watch this corny ass movie."

        And there it was, the beginning of it all. Daryl came over every two to three days after that and did whatever mundane activities you suggested. Sometimes he'd put his arm around you during a movie, or sometimes he'd give you a tight hug before he left after dinner.

        One night he came with some wine and a casserole Carol had made. 

        "Two nights in a row?" You asked him as you let him in.

        "Figured you were missin' me already." He teased. You rolled your eyes with a little smile. He went straight to your kitchen and got wine and casserole ready for the two of you before he met you back on the couch. You sipped the wine and dug in, as did he. He finished before you as he always did, and once you were finished, he pulled a DVD out of his jacket. 

        "Austin Powers?" You laughed, taking the movie and walking over to the DVD player to pop the disc in.

        "Never seen it." He shrugged.

        "I loved these movies when they came out." You told him, taking your seat back on the couch.

        "Guess I picked a good one." He commented as the movie started to play. When the movie finished, he looked over to find you sleep, curled up on the other end of the couch. He huffed a laugh and shook his head, standing up and scooping you in his arms, carrying you down the hall and to the single bedroom, before gently laying you down. Your eyes fluttered open as you watched him stand up over you. "Didn't mean to wake ya." He apologized, noticing a small glisten in you eyes as you looked up at him.

        "You carried me to bed?" You asked groggily.

        "You fell asleep." He said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably.

        "It's okay." You smiled. "Wanna stay?"

        "Huh?"

        "With me. Wanna stay the night?" You clarified.

        "Like a slumber party?" He scoffed.

        "You're right. That was stupid. Goodnight Daryl." You said, scooting over to the side of the bed you usually slept on and rolling over, feeling a tad embarrassed.

        You heard him walk to the door and pause, before you heard quiet shuffling and then some silence. You were surprised when you felt a weight on the other side of the bed. The mattress rocked a little as he wiggled under the covers and found a comfortable position on his side, facing your back.

        "Wasn't stupid." He said quietly. You smiled to yourself as you scooted back. He took the hint and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

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