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sinsandsweetness · 6 months

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okay this could be a silly req butttttt hear me out 👀 so yk in season 2 when shane shaves his hair after he sees that a chunk of hair is missing and all that? so i was thinking what if reader also went with shane and otis so shane asks reader to buzz his hair FOR him and like she sits on the sink between his legs and stuff 🙈 and it can just be a little suggestive maybe and at the end he gives her his 22 necklace 🌚😋🫶

not silly at all! Definitely more angsty than I intended (and probably than you wanted) but… here we are. Some trauma bonded(?) reader x Shane sweetness…

The countertop is damp with condensation where you’ve situated yourself in front of the man. Eyes a bit lost in the ramblings of his inner voice. He’s detached. Distracted. And he should be. He’d just killed a man after all. And you were there. You’re his only witness.

Though neither of you have chosen to acknowledge it. Aloud anyway.

“Shane?” Your voice is just above a whisper. A gentle attempt to bring him back to earth.

He nods. But he can’t look at you. Not in the eyes. Not after what he did.

“Hey,” you reach out for his arm. Towel clad body following your suggestion to lean in closer. Up against the counter, legs on either side of his, brushing against the plush towel secured around his waist. Droplets continue running down his chest, one in particular trailing all the way down the v between his hip bones.

It takes everything in you to pull your eyes back up.

Not now. Not the time or place, you think to yourself.

“It’s okay. I- I get it. I probably-“ you don’t want to admit it, because you’re not entirely sure it’s true. You could just be saying this to comfort him. But either way, he needs to hear it.

“I would have done the same thing.”

Shane shakes his head slowly. Blinking his eyes closed for a few seconds longer than normal. His mind must be racing behind those pretty eyes, you think to yourself.

“Y/n, I- I had to- I didn’t- there wasn’t another way-“

“Hey,” you cut him off, hand reaching up to touch his face. He’s not hearing you. Maybe the feel of you hand cupping his jaw will help ground him back to you. Back to the present.

Instinctively, he leans right into your touch. Not just your hand, but also your body. Pressed right against your fresh, oversized button up and boxer shorts. Beads of water unintentionally dampening the fabric.

His touch send tingles through you where his hands had moved to hold your thighs.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me…You did what you had to do.” Your voice is soft, but your words are firm.

He nods, nose only an inch away from your own. His unfocused eyes can’t help but catch yours for a moment as he chews nervously at the inside of his cheek.

He stays like that a moment, and for a split second, you think he might kiss you. He wants to. Though you aren’t convinced that it’s out of desire for you, but rather the desire for a distraction. Something to numb the guilt, even if it’s just for a moment.

You must have flinched when his lips nearly brushed yours.

Shit. Your hesitation scared him off.

You wish you could reach out and pull him back against your lips. Let him get lost in the taste of you. But you aren’t quick enough.

With a drawn out breath, he leans back. Reaching for an item on the other side of the counter top.

He takes a deep sigh and runs his other hand through his hair. Regret written all over his face. “Um… do you think- could you…?” He asks, grabbing your hand and placing the electric razor in your palm.

You nod. Of course you can.

#shane x you #shane x y/n #shane x reader #shane walsh x y/n #shane walsh fanfiction #shane walsh x reader #Shane Walsh x you #Shane Walsh #Shane daydream

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liliesdiary · 6 months

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"Not So Tough Now, Darlin?"

"Not So Tough Now, Darlin?" Shane Walsh x You

Warning: dubcon, Shane drunk fucking you, inspired by that one moment at the CDC except it's mostly consensual, brutal fuck, hair pulling, darling/darlin, fem!reader

Words: 650

Special mentions: @versatilehater @sinsandsweetness @dustbunniess

Daydreaming about Shane Walsh drunk-hate fucking you.

You and Shane never got along, he was always stubborn and a hot head, you saw his obsession with Lori and even called him out on several occasions. You and Shane have always butted heads, yelling at each other but neither of y'all could deny the sexual tension between you two. You always caught Shane staring at your ass in those short dresses and skirts you loved to wear. This time he wasn't letting it slide.

He continued his assault on your hole, tightening his grip on your bruised waist as you were bent over the counter. He was a drunken angry mess and abused your body as you trembled beneath him. Precum was slipping from his cock as he thrusted into you, making you a wet mess.

You moaned and whimpered, “Fuck, please slow down!”, you tried to protest but he covered your mouth and whispered in you ear, “You’re going to fucking take it look a good girl, you’ve been nothing but a brat to me, flaunting your ass with those tiny ass skirts you wear. You didn't think I’d snap one of these days and just bend over your ass and fuck you stupid, darlin?”

Your eyes widen and was filled with tears, your legs were shaking as he thrusted that big veiny cock of his, and fuck it was huge. You winced everytime he thrusted into your aching hole, moving your soaked panties to the side as you were still wearing them. You tried to protest again but his rageful drunken thrusts made you stumble and you couldn’t take it anymore. You fell to your knees and tried to crawl away but he grabbed you by your braids harshly and made you face him, his eyes were glossy and red, “Where are you goin, sweetheart? You ain't running away from me.” He then picked you up over his shoulders and sat down on a chair nearby.

He then bent you over on his chair and pressed his bulge against that tiny skirt of yours. You felt his bulge against his jeans, making you even more wet.

“Fuck,” He groans as he rips your soaked panties off, “You're so fucking wet sweetheart..”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins. You were at his mercy, completely vulnerable and exposed in this moment.

Shane's hands shook as he pulled your skirt up, revealing your bare ass to him. He gripped your hips tightly, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a raw intensity that made your heart race even faster.

"You think I don't know how much you want this?" he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "How much you crave my cock inside you? You can deny it all you want darling, but I see the way you look at me. The way you flaunt yourself around, knowing exactly what effect it has on me."

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze as shame and desire battled within you. You knew Shane was right - there had always been an undeniable attraction between you two, despite your frequent clashes. And now, here you were, about to be taken by force by the very man you couldn't help but fantasize about.

Shane's thrusts became more violent as he pulled your braids, his hips slamming against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His rough hands dug into your soft flesh, leaving bruises and marks on your arms and shoulders. You struggled to maintain balance as he continued to pound into you, his cock stretching you wider than ever before. He drunkenly fucked your pussy, groaning and getting rougher with you by the second as you stumble and tremble beneath him, "Always acting so tough huh? Not so tough now darlin, ain't that right?”

#shane walsh fanfiction #shane twd #shane the walking dead #twd shane #the walking dead shane #shane walsh imagine #shane walsh twd #shane walsh #shane walsh headcannons #shane walsh smut #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal x you #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #im so wet #lily's daydreams <3

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cosmicwhoresimpingismyliving · 23 days

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Picturing my farmer/the farmer bending down to pick up a dandelion outside of Joja Mart & quoting the Sid the Sloth meme of ‘Oh a dandelion, must be the last one of the season’ taking a bite & spitting it out. This all occurs as Shane is walking past them from work. He takes notices but doesn’t say anything because he is drained from work. The farmer is visibly embarrassed by Shane seeing them as, they are crushing on him hard & they want to make a good impression of themselves to him. They think that this has just ruined their image or chance with him but he is perplexed by it, lying in bed On one hand, he thinks it’s stupid, and on the other he thinks it’s kinda hilarious. Thus he comes to the conclusion that it was stupidly hilarious. I think he’d eventually tell the farmer about it, tell them that it was one of the many reasons he fell for them.

#sdv shane #stardew shane #stardew valley shane #shane stardew #shane stardew valley #he’s so cute #shane sdv #shane x farmer #i love him #just me daydreaming #sid the sloth #ice age

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dreamdropsystem · 3 months

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daydreamers out there yall ever daydream that your para (fictional character para, original para, plush para, etc) are with you interacting with the world with you, or they're doing what you are doing and interacting but you aren't there.. is is that just me??

#angel #shane #maladaptive daydreaming #maladaptive daydreamer #actually maladaptive #maladaptive coping #madd #maladaptive daydreaming disorder #para #paras #paracosm #paracosms

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dreamingdreamdrop · 11 months

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dreaming of a safer place. a mother that actually loves and cares for and supports me being trans. we daydream about being adopted all the time.

#shane #group post #madd #maladapting daydreaming disorder #maladaptive daydreaming #mom #mother #maladaptive coping #maladaptive daydreamer #daydreamer #daydreaming #daydream #actually maladaptive #maladaptive problems #trans #transgender #enby #nonbinary #genderless

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heyitzbud · 11 months

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anyway that last post has me thinking and ill be sharing my character/fictional universe playlists here: (also if you have song recs for any of these pls lmk)

Shane from Stardew Valley: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/77HW8BbncUlNCwgr4jF73Z?si=78b79a3e1cd34c38

The Safe Haven from The Maze Runner: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3fFyjOfVqB1vg4UDImUVVe?si=71985bd6e8d147fd

Steve/Bucky: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1hq4cU3j9IrLxmk83jLQB1?si=b89103d8421549c4

Fili x OC from The Hobbit: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SRv37ggICAPQ9fyvFjFsr?si=3c50334012424762

#subjectively have the most thoughts about fili x oc but the least number of songs #and i know why #bc i also have a fantasy playlist that i use to daydream about the hobbit with so #thoughts #playlists #stardew valley #stardew shane #the maze runner #tmr #steve/bucky #stucky #fili #the hobbit #the hobbit fili

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coiled-dragon · 7 months

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I think if Shane and Ryan asked me to stop posting fic of them getting down and dirty i'd just write the fic and not upload it . But i think shipping real people is the most normal thing. Like tabloids ship Brangelina. Every article speculating if two celebs are dating is kinda shipping in a way. Cooing over your friends getting together and thinking their an adorable couple is shipping. But if i were making someone uncomfortable i'd just ship in my head instead of publically.

tbh.. Its RPF has been around for as long as people could think, draw, and write about it. Fanfiction of real events and people, too. There are some public figures who say it makes them uncomfortable and people dont just stop or even keep it 'secret'. Posting about it on Tumblr or Twitter or Ao3 where 200 people read it isnt really public imo, and the only times its even been a real problem to me is when people use their ideas and get mad at real life people for not being like their fanfic.

Gestures to Spn fandom a while back when people were, iirc, sending death threats to members of the casts family over fictional shipping AND rpf shipping. Its never ever okay to show it to people who express no interest in seeing or knowing, and its one of those things where in my mind, if they dont know it doesnt hurt them.

Its a finicky line and I know a lot of people feel very VERY strongly about it, but it has existed for ever, it will continue, and its on fandoms themselves to behave and in some cases curb fellow fans when they struggle to distinguish between the FICTION part of 'Real Person Fiction' and the Real Person part.

#rpf #anonymous #ask #sometimes I have debated making OCs heavily inspired by like #Shane and Ryan LMAO #just because its easier for me to make them more My Characters #But ultimately people DO turn real people into characters for RPF scenarios #the real people exist in the real world #unharmed and unaffected by whatever daydreams we have #and the fictionalized versions of them are what exist on Ao3 and in our daydreams

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misserabella · 2 months

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puppy love pt.2

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt.1

summary; shane had showed you real pleasure. but now she was just a mere ghost, haunting you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!!, heavy use of drugs and alcohol, hookups (r has sex with another girl), fighting, teasing, tension!!, groping, piercings, tit playing, nipple sucking (both receiving), kinda switch shane but goes back to being dom, oral sex! (shane receiving), hair pulling (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), hickeys, making out, dirty talking, praising, use of good girl, cum eating, choking (r receiving), orgasm delay (r receiving), scissoring, multiple orgasms, breeding kink??…

something you should’ve expected from shane mcutcheon was that she would run away. but against your better judgement you still had hopes that she wouldn’t. that this would have meant something. silly of you to think it would.

she had made you cum. she had fucked you. she had showed you what real pleasure felt like and then she had dipped.

left you there for you to drown in your thoughts. and in alcohol.

“woah, woah. take it easy.” your friend charlotte, from the group you’ve gone out partying, tried to stop you from taking another swing from your drink. of course, that was an uneasy task.

you hadn’t been this off tracks since your teenage years. you were drowning glass after glass of liquor, cups that men and women would buy for you. it was quite easy to let them…

even easier to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman with black wavy hair and caramel eyes. her hands were warm, not like shane’s ice cold ones, and her kisses were soft, not like shane’s, which had knocked your breath out of your lungs.

why were you still thinking about her?

she was beautiful. and kind. and seemed to really like you. and the coke she had offered you only made it all seem better.

you pushed her closer, kissed her harder, until her tongue was breaching your lips and her touch became rougher, grabbing at your ass and making you moan.

yes. this was what you needed.

“come with me.” you muttered against her lips, taking her hand and pulling from her towards the club’s bathrooms, which oddly enough were empty. you kissed her as you walked her into one of the cubicles, closing the door behind your back and locking it. you were high out of your mind. and so drunk everything looked like in a daydream. you two made out until your lungs were pleading for oxygen and she was getting on her knees, pushing up your dress and pulling aside you panties to dive in between your thighs. you sighed at the feeling of her tongue, your back pressed against one of the walls of the bathroom stalls. you were sure this wasn’t the first indecent act they’ve seen before. and as good as it felt… you couldn’t feel good. not when she sucked on your clit, or when her fingers pushed inside to fuck you open.

so after a while, you started to fake it. so it could just be over and you could get back to drinking. or maybe finally get home. who cares.

lucky enough your seemed to be good at faking your orgasm, ‘cause she was smiling against your lips once she had gotten back on her feet. “let me buy you another drink, hm?” she offered.

and once again, you couldn’t say no.

you were absolutely and utterly fucked up. you couldn’t even walk straight. and if you could even think, you’d for sure wonder how were you even walking right now.

“come on, we’re almost there.” that sultry soft voice filled your ears.

oh yeah, maybe it was because of the gentle hands that kept you upright.

you looked at your right, and her greenish eyes were staring straight as you. you scoffed. “not you…” more like slurred.

of course it would be shane mccutcheon.

“what are you doing here?” you inquired her, feeling her touch burn your skin there where she held you.

“you’re fucked up.” she ignored you, and you laughed, shaking your head on a nod that had you feeling dizzy.

how she had found you? you had no idea. maybe it had to be with marina ferrer, her friend’s local that you had ended up on this late in the middle of the night, sniffing coke until you felt your nose would start bleeding. you couldn’t really take a moment to think about that possibility at that moment. not when she looked so good.

“how much did you take?” she asked, and you laughed, shrugging your shoulders as you let her wide you up the stairs of her house’s porch.

“not enough it seems.” ‘cause you’re still here, and i can’t stop thinking about you and it’s killing me. you could’ve said. but instead you silenced yourself, watching her slide the key in the lock and open the door for the two of you. “i was having fun. you ruined it.” you sighed, your blown out eyes squinting at the intensity of the lights she had just turned on.

“what, with that girl you were with?” you looked at her, and her face looked serious, deadly even.

“actually yeah.”

“you fucked her?”

you scoffed, looking at her with an incredulous face. “why the fuck do you care?”

“did you. fuck her.” she repeated, slower and you took a deep breath.

“yeah. i did.” you stared at her unchanging face, her strong façade. you wanted to punch it to pieces. why was she asking about this? she had fucked you. you were just one more stupid girl on her list. so why?

“what did she do?” her voice broke the silence after a beat, maybe two. the air was thick.

“what?”

“you heard me. what did she do to you?” you huffed.

“you’re unbelievable.” you shook your head.

“i’m the unbelievable one? you were so sad that you went off and fucked some girl at the club?”

“i guess i’m fucked up like that.” you shrugged and she sighed. “reminds me of someone i know.” you smirked.

“you’re a fucking kid.”

“oh yeah? well you didn’t mind me being a kid when you were eating me out.”

“jesus christ.” she muttered and you rolled your eyes.

“im too high for this shit.” you went ahead and tried to scurry yourself away from her but she was quick enough to stop you, her strong grip surrounding your wrist. you were closer than before. you could smell her stupidly attractive perfume, see the little lines that decorated her face, the freckles she’d gotten due to the numerous summers under the sun…

“but not high enough to get fucked?” she spat, and you looked at her with an incredulous face. “did it feel good? did she make you cum? did she make you feel like i did?” your lips were sealed as she pushed you against the wall, her breath mangling with yours.

“and what if she did?” you inquired, your eyes on hers, and she smirked, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. you gasped at the sudden feeling of one of her hands sliding in between your thighs, her fingertips trailing over the wet patch on your panties, which she had managed to create in just a couple of minutes. she hadn’t even touched you, jesus christ.

“but did she?” you bit down on your lip, feeling the painful need of an orgasm that never came. “poor thing. of course not. no one can make you feel like i do, isn’t that right, doll?” you let out a sigh as you felt her fingers rub up and down your sticky folds, drenching the cloth of your underwear.

“fuck you.” you spat and she chuckled.

“you wish.” she muttered just centimeters away from your lips. you unconsciously chased after her when she brushed her plump lips against yours, gasping as her free hand came up to surround your neck and keep you in place. you shivered when she found the crook on your neck and made her way up to your ear. “but you’ve already got that other girl to do that, don’t you?” and just like that she let go of you, leaving the air surrounding you now empty and cold on her absence. “left a pillow and a blanket for you on the sofa.” that was the last thing she said before closing the door of her room behind her back, not even giving you a goodbye.

and you just knew by the way your head was starting to pound that you’d have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning.

next time you saw shane was while you were out partying. again. if you didn’t go out you’d be too deep into your head. it would mess you up. ‘cause you missed her. so fucking badly it was actually ripping you to pieces.

of course, it was a friday night. and you knew what that meant. you were at marina’s local, who welcomed you with a hug and a worried look on her face that you dismissed. she could see shane on your eyes, could feel her on your touch. she had branded you. and now you were following her steps. she just hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself this time.

“she’s here.” she muttered on your ear, more like a warning, a heads up. but you already knew that. shane indulged on a couple of drinks herself every friday. that’s why you’d come ready, on a tight black night dress that made your curves show and your tits almost overflow its cups. your heels were bloody red, just like your lips, and your eyes were smudged in black eyeliner, making them pop.

“thanks marina.” you gave her a sweet smile before wandering off into the crowd and perching yourself on the bar, asking for a couple of shots and a lemon vodka.

the alcohol burned your throat, warming up your body. by the time you threw yourself into the dancing crowd you could feel her eyes on you. you were the center of attention. you looked good, and you knew it. you talked and laughed, and danced with girls and boys until your feet hurt.

you didn’t know how many drinks you’ve had, but you felt lethargic and euphoric. you could feel the music seeping into your skin and vibrating your soul. your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, your back arching as you played with your hair. you had everyone on a trance, like a siren calling for the sailors, menacing with their drowning. but who could help themself? shane surely couldn’t.

she hated her guts. for being drawn to you, to the light like a moth would. but her hands had found your hips, and your warmth ignited her skin on fire. you always did this. always hung in front of her like the perfect bait, the perfect sin. and she wanted to sink her teeth into you, so badly…

you sighed when you felt her touch. you knew it was her. you could know her by touch alone. how couldn’t you? you could breath her.

your back rested against her chest, her mouth on your neck.

“everyone’s looking at you.” she muttered, and you chuckled, one of your hands lacing on her hair when she left a soft kiss on your suple skin.

“i just want you.” you said. there was alcohol running through your veins. but there was something about shane. only her had the power to leave you completely sober but high at the same time. a mixture of impossibility that had you breathless and in need of more.

“you can’t keep playing with me.” one of her hands surrounded you to pull you closer, palm resting against your stomach, her crotch against your ass. your senses felt overstimulated by her. all you could feel was her, all you could smell was her, all you could think was her.

shane, shane, shane…

“i thought you liked the game. you know… the one in which you pretend you don’t want it as much as i do.” you muttered against her lips, your eyes meeting her green ones.

it was like a game of chess. one wrong move and the king could fall. but isn’t that what you wanted? what she wanted?

you pulled away from her, your hand taking the one that rested on your stomach as you stepped away from her touch.

“what’s your move, shane?”

“you drive me crazy.” she muttered against your lips, her hands newly on your hips, your back against the door of her house, which encapsulated the two of you in a game of tug and let go. “you don’t know what you do to me.” she whined, and you were pulling from the buttons on her shirt, simply pushing it over her head to leave her chest bare to your hungry eyes. she tilted her head back with a silent moan when your mouth found her sensitive nipples, sucking and teasing them with your fingers. “your father’s gonna kill us.” you hummed, looking up at her. the way you prettily tongued at her chest, how your doe eyes stared into her half-lidded ones, how your pink and plump lips surrounded her nipples… she was fucked.

“we’re already dead.” you muttered against her mouth as you pulled up your dress, getting rid of it to show her the lingerie you wore underneath.

shane groaned, pulling you from your neck to meet your tongue. you sighed in relief in her mouth, opening up for her own, moaning at the feeling of the kisses you swore took all your breath away.

the two of you gripped at each other as if you were drowning and you were each others life saver.

somehow, you made your way to her bedroom, your back arching at the wet kisses shane left on your neck and breasts, but her hands left your body as she fell back first onto her bed. you got onto your knees, and jesus, now shane could believe in god. she wetted her lips, her intense stare on you as you unbuttoned her jeans. you bit down on your bottom one as the zip lowered, looking at her as if you were begging. you didn’t have to. shane was rising her hips for you to pull down her pants and underwear down and off her legs. she felt blessed.

your mouth watered as you stared in between her thighs, she was soaked, and so fucking beautiful. your hands found her skin to spread her apart further and she sighed. there was no need to talk. your bodies did all the talking for you. and you owed her an orgasm.

her hand on your hair was the cue to dive in between her thighs.

“fuuuck.” she cursed at the feeling of your tongue. she already knew you could use it with your words, but this… “we really shouldn’t be doing this.” she said, but when you sucked on her clit, she only contradicted herself by pulling you closer against her core. “shit. don’t stop.” you moaned, your fingers digging on her flesh as you buried yourself impossibly closer in between her folds, lapping at her arousal in long strips and flicking your tongue against her puffy clit.

shane tasted heavenly. she was like a drug, the more you took the more you needed her. you pushed her legs over your shoulders for better accessibility as one of your hands made your way under your chin so your fingers could meet her entrance. her hips pushed against your touch, almost as if she was begging for you to touch her, to make her cum. and who were you to say no to her?

shane moaned when you thrusted your middle and ring finger into her pussy, her tight and warm slick walls squeezing your fingers in a heart-like rhythm. you needed to hear more of her like this. you could get high on it, maybe even cum as her pretty voice filled the room.

“fuck baby, yeah, just like that. so good. good girl.” she praised when you curled them to find that spongey spot that left her light-headed. your tongue toyed with her clit meanwhile, the stimulation driving her closer to her long awaited release.

you whimpered at her words, your cunt throbbing in need as you humped you own heels for some kind of friction.

“i’m gonna cum. gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, fuck.” she gasped, her hips subconsciously thrusting against your fingers and tongue.

you got impatient, driven by the need to taste her on your tongue, curling your fingers faster, sucking on her clit harder, until you felt her hold on your hair tighten and her thighs tremble, a moan leaving her mouth as she fell apart, soaking your chin and lips and filling your mouth.

you hummed, fucking her through it until the very last drop of her cum had been drank. you let her go with a soft kiss to her clit, licking your fingers clean under her intense and hungry stare. shane sat up, guiding you up onto your feet, looking up at you with a desire that threatened with breaking your bones.

her eyes ranked up and down your body, still clad in lingerie. her hands found your waist, pulling you so close you ended up falling on her lap, her mouth on your chest and neck, sucking new bruises that you’d wear like a jewel.

“shane…” you whined, and she understood, one of her hands easily getting rid of the clasp of your bra, throwing it aside to suck on your tits and pierced nipples. “fuck…” you toyed with her brunette hair, tugging at her strands in pleasure, your hips thrusting against her own in need of release.

“want to fuck you so bad, baby.“ she groaned, one of her hands cupping your pussy over your panties, her fingers easily finding and playing with your clit.

“then do it. shit. fuck me, shane. fuck me.” you whined, and with that she was flipping you over and burying you on the sheets, practically ripping your panties off of you. her fingers didn’t wait to part your soaked lips. she grunted, burying her face on your neck.

“so fucking wet…” she almost whined, and your nails dug on her back.

“shane, please…” you begged. it hurt. it hurt so bad. this need you had for her, this hunger that only her could satiate…

“shh, i got you baby. i got you.” she promised, making you whimper and gasp as she thrusted her fingers inside of your welcoming and sopping cunt. “so warm and ready for me…”

your jaw fell slack as she plunged them deeper, her lips kissing the side of it. the squelches of your slick as she started moving them in and out of you making you blush.

“you hear her baby? so needy…” she muttered against your skin, her hips thrusting against your hand and making her fingers reach your cervix.

“shane!” you screamed at the roughness of her movements, the curling of her digits straight onto your g spot. your legs surrounded her hips to bring her closer.

“so fucking pretty screaming my name…” she sighed, her free hand coming up to surround and squeeze your neck.

“i’m not gonna last…” you cried out, the constant abuse on your g spot making you feel dizzy. the warmth of your upcoming orgasm expanding through your lower stomach.

“hold it. i want you to cum on my pussy.” she ordered, pulling away from you and pulling out her fingers from your gaping core. you cried out, feeling your release subsiding.

your watery eyes stared up at her as she made a quick work of positioning your legs and herself in between them. she held one of your own as she sunk down against your pussy, the feeling making the two of you moan and grunt.

“fuck. you feel so good…” she gasped, thrusting against you, making your clits catch and getting out a whimper from your chest.

“shane, shane, shane…” you chanted her name like a prayer to a god, your own hips twitching against hers for more friction. squelching sounds of your pussies gliding against the other filled the air, along with your moans and whimpers. “i can’t. can’t. i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, feeling with every hump your release growing closer.

“cum for me, let me see it fucking drip.” she grunted with a harsh thrust. and with that you were falling apart under her. your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave and drowning you in pleasure. “thaat’s it. good girl. good fucking girl.” she moaned. “fuck. you’re soaking my pussy so good baby. so fucking good.”

“shit. you’re gonna make me cum again. gonna make me cream your pussy. fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m gonna fill you up baby, im gonna-“

due to her recent orgasm she was sensitive. so fucking sensitive that with the sight of your pretty face cumming for her, and the moaning of her name falling from your lips brought her to her second orgasm of the night.

…

the king had fallen. and the game was over. or was it?

a/n; this took so long to write omg😭. but i’m actually happy w it??? hope y’all enjoyed it❤️

#shane mccutcheon x reader #shane x reader #shane mccutcheon smut #shane mccutcheon imagine #shane smut #shane fluff #shane angst #shane l word #l word shane #shane mccutcheon #the l word x reader #the l word smut #the l word imagine #the l word fan fiction #the l word

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celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 10

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, blood, injury, vomiting

A/N: This chapter is admittedly self indulgent. I love Daryl whump and I’ve been kind to him physically for most of the story so far. Not anymore! That being said, I feel like I should have split this into more than one chapter because—to me—the quality suffered because of the length. Anyway, on with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

The sun was shining through the open curtains when you awoke. You scowled at the rays but the gentle heat that your skin was absorbing seemed to sooth the irritation. You stretched stagnant muscles, not even venturing to suppress the moan invoked by the action. You let your head fall to the side, finding the opposite margin of the bed empty. Daryl had already left. You shouldn’t be surprised. He was a hunter. Your variety were early risers. Well, you were admittedly a bit of a slacker.

Your stomach felt moderately uneasy but not unmanageable. Hershel must have given you that injection while you slept. Your IV was disconnected and a glass of water sat on the bedside table, this time closest to you. You picked it up after gliding your legs off the side of the bed, taking slow careful sips. You were just placing it back on the table when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in?” You weren’t sure if it was Hershel or maybe someone else who lived in the home. It felt odd to invite them into a room that didn’t belong to you.

Carol peeked inside and smiled before opening the door fully to enter, a young blonde girl right on her heels with a glass of something—colorful. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” You accepted the woman’s embrace.

“Better.” You smiled reassuringly when she pulled back to get a look at you. “Who’s this? And what’s that?” Carol looked behind herself on one side and then the other before stepping aside.

“I’m Beth. My daddy is the one that helped you.” The girl was just that: a girl. She was older than Carl and Sophia but still a kid. “We made you a fruit smoothie. Patricia says it’s good for you and shouldn’t make you sick.”

You offered her a tight smile and accepted the drink, fearful of not only the taste but the consistency of the thing. You’d never done well with solid things being made into liquids. With an uncertain frown, you took a small sip. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy shit, that’s good.” When you took another drink, a smiling Carol put a hand on your arm.

“Go slow.”

You nodded, tilting your head at the pile of clothes in Carol’s arms. “Are those for me?”

“Mhm. Thought you might like to clean up and change.”

“Oh my god, you read my mind.” You took another sip and made a grateful noise that had Beth giggling. “That is really good.”

It was early evening by the time you had showered and decided to venture outside. The nap in between was desperately needed. You were still a little weak from your ordeal.

It was your first glimpse of the land. Beautiful fields with horses and cows out to pasture, while the blue, cloudless sky blanketed it all.

Blue like Daryl’s eyes.

You frowned, shaking your head at yourself. “Where the hell did that come from?” You brushed it off easily and approached the little camp your fellow group mates had set up. It felt odd being around them all without Daryl being somewhere nearby but it wasn’t bad per se.

Lori looked up from the bin of laundry and smiled at you. It was small and you could sense something behind it. Nevertheless, you returned it. It wouldn’t be a horrible thing to get to know everyone better. You made two steps in Lori’s direction before noticing Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Dale huddled together out of the corner of your eye.

Normally, you’d think nothing of it, except you happened to catch Dale risking a glance in your direction. His expression pinched, concerned. He was quick to look away but it was too late.

“What’s going on?” You asked, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jeans. The way they all looked between one another spoke volumes. There was something they didn’t want to tell you.

Shane did that thing where he shoved his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and looked around at nothing before meeting your eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’. We got it under control.”

You couldn’t help but sneer at him. “Don’t call me darlin’ and I can decide if I should worry or not. Rick?” The officers shared a look with Shane shaking his head but Rick seemed to disagree.

“Daryl took a horse out today to look for Sophia.”

You shook your head and raised a brow inquisitively. “Okay?”

“The horse came back. Without him.”

Your stomach dropped before twisting with a feeling of dread. “You’re going out, right?”

“Well, this is Daryl. We’re gonna give him until nightfall and set out first thing in the morning if he’s not back.” Rick explained. The incredulous expression you donned must have been enough encouragement for him to stammer out further explanation. “We can’t risk going out and not making it back before dark.”

“But it’s okay for Daryl—who could be hurt—to be out there alone all night, right? Are you fucking serious right now?” You were finding it increasingly difficult to keep your anger in check or your voice at a low volume.

“Listen, missy, you don’t have a lot of right to say much of anything around here! Let me tell you something—” Shane began. You were having none of it.

“Oh, shove it, Dudley Do-Right!” You hissed. You had spun away and started looking for Daryl’s tent, missing the undoubtedly furious—but comically memorable—expression on Shane’s face. “I’ll go find him myself.”

You heard Rick’s frantic footfalls before he stepped in front of you, palms out. “Wait, wait, wait. We can’t let you go out there.”

“Let me?”

Dale joined Rick, taking off his hat as he spoke. You weren’t sure why he did it other than maybe attempting to show you some form of respect. “Daryl would be less than thrilled if something happened to you.”

“I thought I didn’t have any rights around here?” You crossed your arms, eyes sliding to the side when you heard someone approaching from behind. When they didn’t move where you could see them, you felt your hackles rise. They must have not been informed that you were also a hunter. “If you touch me, you risk losing a body part.” You spat over your shoulder, venom dripping from every syllable. “And I promise you, it’ll be something you’ll definitely miss.” Shane gave you a wide berth as he circled within your sight, hands up as if he were being detained.

“Look, Y/N, we know that’s Daryl’s baby.” Rick dropped his hands to his sides, bringing one back up immediately to rub at his forehead.

“And how do you know that?” You knew it was a stupid question. The archer hadn’t left your side the entire time you were unconscious. After you awoke, he was at your beck and call: bringing you food, making sure you drank enough, watching over you as you rested.

“You were unconscious. You didn’t see him when he brought you here.” Rick was trying so hard to be nice and you knew he meant it. He was a genuine person.

“He was off the rails! Rantin’ and ravin’ like a lunatic!”

“Shane, you’re not helping.” Rick had tilted his head, directing his statement at his partner but keeping his eyes on the ground at your feet. When he spoke again, his gaze found yours, full of kindness and concern. “We just can’t take any risks.”

Regardless, you would not be deterred. “I’m not asking you to. In fact, I’m not asking at all.” They allowed you to sidestep around them, not following you but you could hear them muttering loudly amongst themselves.

Finding Daryl’s tent was a piece of cake. You used what you knew of him to conclude that he would be the furthest from the rest. Once inside, you found your pack and knives sitting to one side, surprisingly in a neat pile. In fact, the entire space was orderly enough for you to scratch your head and second guess if you had indeed entered the right tent.

His bedroll had not been used, the cot not set up. That made sense. He had spent the nights in the house with you while you recovered. You could still feel the warmth his body gave off even with several inches between you. Damn him for going off alone.

He did have some goodies in his area that you were happy to borrow. Some dried jerky, a length of rope, some extra clothes (for him, just in case), a meager amount of medical supplies (also, just in case), and a flashlight. You’d give it all back. Maybe.

Knives holstered and bag on your back, you bent down to exit the tent, standing to come face to face with Carol and Lori. Throwing back your head, you groaned. “Not you guys, too.”

“Daryl made it pretty clear that the baby is his.” Lori spoke first. “We’re gonna worry.”

“You’re new, but we’re all in this together. Daryl, too. He’s out there looking for my girl, after all.” Carol held out two canteens of water. “Maggie and Glenn aren’t back yet. That shot Hershel gave you isn’t gonna last much longer. You need to stay hydrated.”

Before you could react, Lori handed you two apples and a can of kidney beans. “You need to eat too. Fruit and protein are good for the baby and for nausea.”

“Thank you.” You turned to allow Carol to place the items in your bag, getting caught in a hug on your way back around. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Carol nodded while Lori took your hand and squeezed. “We’ll handle the men. Go on. Daryl left out that way.” You turned your attention to the direction she pointed and gave a nod, jogging off before anyone could intercept you.

Situations like this were when being a hunter and tracker was beyond beneficial; it could be potentially life saving. Finding the horse’s trail was easy. The shape of the hooves indicated whether the mare was coming or going, as well as the depth, indicating whether or not Daryl was in the saddle.

He had gone some distance, that was certain. Being on horseback allowed him to cover more ground but he gave up the advantage of being close to the paths. It had to be harder to see any trails from horseback. Then again, he was a marksman with his crossbow. He was eagle-eyed for sure.

You had been tracking him for at least an hour, the sun getting lower and lower. Rick and Shane had been right about one thing: Daryl would raze that farm to the ground if he came back to learn you had gone out alone. Still, you had to think he’d find it at least a little funny that no one volunteered to go with you. Big strong manly men letting the petite sickly pregnant woman go in the woods all by her lonesome. You snorted at your own thoughts.

You paused to check the sun’s position in the sky, estimating you had about an hour of daylight left. Even if you abandoned the search and went back at that moment, it would still be dark when you made it. You weren’t hungry, which you considered might be a bad thing, but you were thirsty. Pulling the bag from your shoulders, you crouched to dig through the contents for one of the canteens. It was easily found toward the top.

“Small sips, small sips.” You reminded yourself. You didn’t yet feel nauseated but tempting fate was not an activity you regularly enjoyed. You did enough of that in the woods with Daryl and now had a baby in your belly for your efforts. You were screwing the lid back onto the canteen while simultaneously scanning the tracks you had been following, when you noticed a drastic change. “The horse startled.” You whispered urgently. You were quick to set aside your bag, moving low to the ground to inspect each print. “She reared. Fuck.” The next set of hoof prints were not as deep. “She threw him.”

You stood quickly, ignoring the very slight bout of light-headedness. “Daryl!” You whisper-yelled as loud as you dared. Efficient as you were, you could only handle so many walkers alone. Again, best not to tempt fate. “Daryl!” When you had made a 180, you saw a drop-off. You felt the nausea then, but it had nothing to do with your condition. You placed a palm against a tree, just in case you were to feel any sudden dizziness. You’d rather not topple over and go tumbling down the rocks into the bloody—water. “Oh fuck.”

The red was billowing out into green and yellow clouds in the water, showing it had been there long enough to dilute a substantial amount. “No, no, no. Daryl!” You moved hastily down the edge, following the water hopefully toward land. You had called louder only to be met with silence. Maybe he was out and gone. Back at camp and ready to have your head on a platter for going after him. Maybe he was nearby and would appear momentarily and call you an idiot for being so loud.

Neither of those proved to be the case.

When you spotted the gravelly riverside, you easily found the hunter. The sound you made was somewhere between a sob and a whimper. He was only halfway out of the water, his legs submerged up to his waist. The blood in the water was still a dark red, indicating active bleeding. There was something protruding from his left side that looked suspiciously like one of his bolts. Your first thought was that someone had taken his crossbow and shot him with his own weapon. However, it was lying just above his head, his hand loosely wrapped around it.

You were past the point of thinking rationally. He could be a grade A asshole but he was your baby’s father. That was enough reason to try your best to get him out of the fucked up predicament he had somehow gotten himself into.

It wouldn’t stop you from cursing his name the entire time though.

“How the hell am I supposed to get down there?” You paced the ledge, pulling at your hair. The slope was steep and littered with rocks, limbs, and roots. You couldn’t risk falling. You wouldn’t.

But there was so much blood.

“Think, Y/N!” You crouched down, tapping your fingers against the dirt while willing Daryl to move. To yell. Anything. “When I get you out of this mess, Daryl, I’m going to string you up by—” Your eyes flew wide, a gasp leaving your parted lips. Scrambling back to your bag, you dug through it haphazardly until your fingers wrapped around the rope you’d swiped from his tent. “Yes!”

It probably wasn’t long enough to get you all the way to the bottom but it would do to get you low enough for a fall not to injure you. You’d have to be creative, regardless. You couldn’t rappel down; the length was definitely not enough for that. You also couldn’t tie it to a tree on the ledge either. It would take too much rope. You needed to move down the slope a bit and use one of the tree roots.

Which meant taking a risk.

“I swear if you die, I’m killing you.” You muttered, while shrugging your bag onto your back. Your ass met the dirt somewhat roughly in your haste to get moving. The body could only lose so much blood before—Anyway, you had to go. You moved down carefully, keeping your backside firmly on the ground whilst you prodded rocks and limbs to ensure they would hold your weight. There was a sturdy, sizable root just a few more feet. If it was embedded deep enough, you could use it to get you down safely as well as get you both back up.

You were nearly there when your foot slipped from the edge of a rock. It was easy to right yourself, given how carefully you were moving but it didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your nose. Looking down, you realized you had grabbed your stomach instinctively. With a calming breath, you gave your tummy a pat. “We got this, little thumper.”

The root was easy to get the rope around, secured with a bowline knot. You then loosely secured the end around your waist, high enough not to snap taut around your belly if you were to fall. It’d probably break your back, honestly, but eh, you were optimistic.

You let the slack fall and grabbed on a couple of feet below the knot. “Here goes nothin’.” You started down at a faster pace than before. You couldn’t slide on your ass the whole way, that would take forever.

Daryl didn’t have forever.

You called his name every few seconds, as quietly as you could while being loud enough for him to hopefully hear. You made about three-fourths of the way down when you heard a familiar sound that made your blood freeze. Your head snapped up to some foliage across the riverbank, panicked eyes zeroing in on the walker making a beeline for the same figure you were trying to make your way toward.

“Hey!” You shouted. You waved an arm frantically but the stench of blood had the corpse’s entire focus. “Goddamnit!” With no alternative, you ripped off your flannel and put it between your hands and the rope. Bracing your weight mostly on the root above, you stood slightly and all but ran down the slope. Each time you misstepped, you threw your weight onto the rope. It would sling you sharply but with nowhere else to go, you could get right back to the descent.

Unfortunately, the rope eventually ran out.

Eyes on the walker getting entirely too close to Daryl, you scrambled to untie the line. “Fuck!” The corpse had dropped to its knees and was crawling the last few feet. You yanked your knife from the holster and cut yourself free in a single swipe, barreling toward the water. “Get away from him!”

It finally noticed you, looking your way while Daryl’s arm was in its rotten clutches. Your knife sank into its skull with ease. As much as the smell made you gag, you grabbed the thing as it toppled and pulled. You couldn’t let it fall into the water. Not with Daryl having an open wound.

Panting through tears, you freed your knife and crawled toward the archer. If you had been one second later, he’d have been bitten. The way that thought devastated you down to your very soul frightened you. You checked his arm first, just to be sure. No bites. No scratches. There was no time to revel in that relief. You stopped to brush your fingertips over a cut above his right temple. From the fall, you surmised.

The most concerning injury was that it was indeed his bolt impaling his side and it seemed to have gone all the way through. “Damnit, Daryl, what happened?” You felt lost, hands hovering while your chest began to tighten with the all too familiar heaviness of impending panic. “No, you can’t freak out. You cannot freak out.”

First thing was first. You had to get him out of the water. He would be lucky if bacteria hadn’t already seeped into his wound. You could only pray that Hershel had antibiotics in his possession.

You shed your rucksack close to a nearby tree. The area would give you a view of the entirety of your surroundings. With Daryl injured, you would need to remain vigilant. You were responsible for the safety of three now.

Moving him would be difficult. It would be pulling dead weight, and was most definitely over the weight limit a pregnant person should be messing with. But you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay, little thumper. You just be strong in there while I get your dumbass father out of this mess.”

It was a struggle to get him angled on his right side. You couldn’t drag him flat and risk disturbing the bolt lodged in his skin. Hands tightly gripping his forearms, you began to pull, your boots sliding in the gravel. It was going to be quite the journey but you were moving him little by little.

With a strained grunt, you paused and leaned forward to put your hands on your knees to catch your breath. Just as you leaned forward to grab hold of him again, a cold slimy hand grabbed onto your bicep, yanking you back. How had you not heard the walker approaching? Wasn’t pregnancy supposed to heighten your senses?

“Fuck!” You grappled with the corpse of a man, finding it tough to keep his clicking teeth away from your arm. He was pushing you back easily but you couldn’t let go to get to your knife. One wrong move would result in a chunk being ripped from your arm. Your muscles were tiring, being pushed to their limit. To make matters worse, you could see another walker shambling its way toward the scrap. There was no hope of fending off two of them.

You cried out in frustration and lifted your foot to connect the toe of your boot roughly with the corpse’s knee, causing it to stumble. You had one shot. With your forearm pressing into its throat, you were able to grab your knife and sink the blade into the soft skull with a sickening squelch. There was no time to catch your breath as the second one slammed into your side and took off your feet.

Your legs were pinned under its body, forcing you to battling at an awkward angle to stave off its attempts to rip into your thighs. Your knife was within reach, but grabbing it meant one side would be vulnerable.

“Goddamnit! Get off me, you decaying bastard!”

The walker shifted and gave you the opportunity to bend your right knee and place the sole of your boot against its abdomen. A solid kick forced it back. You were free to scramble backward and grab your knife, but when you lifted it to strike, you spotted another walker crawling toward you, its empty eyes giving you a glimpse of your fate. Ripped open, half eaten only to rise again; mindless and starving for a taste of flesh.

This was it. You’d done all you could. You’d fight them to the death but they had you. It was only a matter of time before—

A bolt pierced the second walker, entering through its temple. It landed in the dirt with a dusty thud. You knew exactly what had happened and once the last walker was dead, you would survey the damage. You flung yourself forward and drove your knife through its right eye. It fell still, its weight heavy on your lap.

“Goddamnit, Daryl!” You exclaimed.

The hunter was on his knees at the water’s edge, swaying dangerously. The left side of his body was now void of the bolt, rivulets of blood dripping from his saturated shirt. His crossbow fell from his grip as he pitched forward to land on all fours.

“Shit.” You wiggled free from beneath the walker, sheathing your knife before dropping to your knees beside Daryl. You laid a gentle hand on the middle of his back. “Hey, let’s get you over there so I can take a look at you.”

“Who—came with—you?” He asked breathlessly, his head remaining bowed as if he just didn’t have the strength to lift it. Hell, he probably didn’t.

You knew he wouldn’t like the answer. You hated to upset him but you wouldn’t lie. “I came alone.” He visibly tensed, fingers digging into the dirt and rock below him.

“Why—the fuck—would ya do that?”

“Because the horse came back without you. Because our baby needs their father.” You reached for his bicep and pulled him up onto his knees so that you were able to put his arm across your shoulders. “Because I was worried about you.”

He gave you a look from the corner of his eye, his head still hanging. “S’a shit reason—to risk the—two’a ya.”

“Did you miss the other two reasons?” You shot back, getting your legs under you so you could lift him without pulling your back or stomach. “Selective hearing, I swear. On three: one. Two. Three!” You managed to get you both upright, but Daryl was quick to curl forward with a sound much too close to a whimper for your liking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“S’fine. Just—” He trailed off with a languid wave of his hand. You took that to mean he was ready to move and began the short walk to the tree. It didn’t take long but he was somehow even more pale and sweating by the time you helped lower him to recline against the trunk. “Found—found her doll.”

“What?” You weren’t really listening. With his shirt pulled up, you could get a good look at the wound. It was still bleeding sluggishly, but still far too much for your liking. “Did you really pull out that bolt?” You asked while leaning around him to see the back as best you could.

“Y’ain’t—ain’t listenin’.” The hunter gave you a weak shove, barely moving you at all. “Found—Sophia’s doll.”

“She was here.” Looking around, you saw nothing and you would not leave him to go track. “Where’s the doll?” Daryl jutted his chin toward a downed tree that was close to the shallow water. Even going that meager distance from him felt like you were leaving him unprotected. However, you knew he would hound you until you obliged his request.

You jogged over, your muscles tired and stomach beginning to feel ill at ease. Sure enough, there laid the doll. You snatched it up and returned to him, taking a moment to place the toy in your bag and pull out supplies.

“How did this happen?”

“Fell—fell on it.”

“Graceful.” You smirked, ignoring the weak middle finger lifted toward you. “Let’s get this bleeding under control and get back to the farm.” You raised his shirt again but this time he seemed to take notice and went rigid.

“It’ll keep, just leave it.”

Your mouth gaped. “You can’t be serious.” You admonished him. “I’m not sure you noticed but there is a literal hole in your side. We can’t go back without some sort of treatment first.” His usually bright blue eyes were cloudy when he looked at you. “It’s nearly dark. Stop arguing with me and let’s get this done.”

“Ain’t enough—time to—get back tonight.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl. We’re sitting ducks.” You started grabbing other things you needed even as he tried to talk you out of it: food, water.

“I can. Go on—back. Come back—back tomorrow—with help.” He winced when he pressed a palm against the wound so he could shift to a more comfortable position.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Y/N, s’not—”

“I said no, Daryl.” You reached for his shirt again and he didn’t stop you but there was a panicked undertone in his eyes. “Just far enough for me to see the wound, okay?” A visible relief; his shoulders dropped and he let his head fall back against the tree.

The bleeding had slowed, showing signs that it was beginning to clot. That was great news but it didn’t replace all he had already lost. The wound needed a proper cleaning and stitches, both of which you were not well equipped. You could handle it if you had the supplies. You’d sewn yourself up plenty of times.

With a sigh, you got up to fetch your flannel from where you’d left it near the rope. You were already tearing it into strips before you returned to Daryl’s side. You tried to be as quick as possible; taping down gauze, folding pieces of your flannel to press over those. Lacking enough to make a compression bandage, you tied pieces of material together.

“Almost done.” You had to lean into his space to pull the makeshift bandage around his back. His tired eyes flitted back and forth between yours while you found yourself glancing at his lips. You cleared your throat and sat back on your heels. “This is gonna hurt but just try to be as quiet as you can.”

Daryl watched you for a moment and then nodded. He visibly tensed and closed his eyes a mere moment before you pulled the material tight around the wound. To his credit, he merely grunted but the hard lines of pain on his face told a different story.

“There. That’s the best I can do right now.” You were beyond concerned. The thought of spending the night there with the archer being so grievously wounded was intimidating. You knew there was no other choice. One of the canteens was on the ground beside you where you had placed it when grabbing out supplies. If he was going to stand any chance of surviving, Daryl had to cooperate. This should be fun. “I need you to drink some water. You’ve lost a lot of blood. We have to keep you hydrated until we can get out of here.”

“Nah.” Much to your chagrin, he turned his head. “Ya need—it more—than I do.” He was beginning to look dazed, fighting off the overwhelming urge to allow his body to rest.

“Stop being a brat and drink the water.” You pressed the canteen to his lips, dropping your mask to wear your concern like a second skin. “Please. I promise I have enough for me too.”

You thought he might argue or once again refuse, but he finally parted his lips with a sigh. You tilted the canteen, flinching when his much too cold hand covered yours to help control how much he was getting.

“I need to build a fire. Keep it small.” You weren’t really talking to him but he hummed in response anyway. He was cold and clammy. You’d bet money that would be worthless in that world that if you checked his pulse, it would be racing. “I think you’re going into shock. I need to get you warm.”

“M’fine.” His voice was quiet, too drained to offer up a convincing tone.

You went about gathering what you could find that could hold the highest possibility of burning. “You know what, keep telling yourself that. Maybe your stubbornness will pay off.” Placing some rocks down so you could control the flames, you placed your tinder bundle in the center along with some sticks and wood chips for kindling. You had to do this the old fashioned way. Daryl was watching you with slow blinks as you went about your method.

You thanked whatever deity that was listening for your experience in the wilderness. You were nurtured by the woods growing up. The trees were like family, offering shade, protection, and a means of warmth or preparing your meals. You had learned the ways to survive. Granted, back then, walking corpses that wanted to eat your intestines weren’t a thing. Scared as you were, you knew you could make it. You could make it. But now, you had to keep Daryl alive as well.

“Finally.” You sat back with a smug grin, watching the fire burn. You just hoped it would be enough. “Come on, let’s get you settled closer to the fire. Then I’ll heat the beans I have. Daryl swatted at your hands.

“M’fine here.”

You huffed through your nose. “No, you’re not. Your skin is freezing. I don’t have any blankets. We need to keep you warm.”

“Fine.” He began to lever his way to his feet, growling with annoyance once you swooped in to help him. “Can do it—can do it myself.”

“Shut up and let me help.” You didn’t let go and he didn’t try to force you. He was panting by the time you lowered him down to lie on this back. He couldn’t be comfortable. “Um, one second.” There wasn’t a lot left of your flannel but you could make it work. Folding it to the best of your ability, you gently lifted his head and placed the article beneath it. As an afterthought, you pulled the clean shirt you had grabbed for him and draped it over his upper half. It would have to do for the time being. “Okay, just rest and I’ll wake you for some food and water in a bit.”

Hours passed agonizingly slowly. You had tried to get Daryl to eat but he had refused. At least he drank the water. You yourself had eaten a third of the can of beans. Everything seemed to be going alright until you found yourself regurgitating into the bushes. Your stomach was turning inside out, now rejecting even the water.

Carol had warned you this would happen but you couldn’t wait. You didn’t regret it either. Daryl would have surely died had you not gone in search of him.

Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you staggered back toward the fire. You were steps away when you realized that Daryl was—talking. And not just talking, but conversing. There’s no one there.

It felt wrong in some ways to move closer; to be able to hear him. It was as if a person was sitting right next to him. Daryl’s eyes were open; mere slits but open.

“Screw you.”

“A girl. They—lost a little—girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Tried like hell—to find ya, bro.”

Bro? Daryl had a brother. It was unknown if he was alive or dead. You only knew from Carol. Daryl never let you that close. He was hallucinating which was bad. Very bad. You took a step forward, ignoring your stomach’s protests for the time being. Should you wake him?

“We went—back for ya. Rick an’ I, we—did right by ya.”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Don’t talk—’bout her like that. Y/N—she’s—diff’rent.”

Wide eyes blinked. He was talking about you. Granted, it was during a moment of psychological weakness but still. It felt even more wrong to allow it to continue.

“I ain’t gonna be—like our daddy. My kid—ain’t gonna be like us. Like you or me.”

Your heart ached for him. You knew nothing about Daryl’s childhood but now you knew it wasn’t pleasant. Shaking your head, you kneeled next to his arm and placed a hand against his cheek. No fever. This had to be coming from the head injury. “Daryl.” He seemed to be looking right through you. Still, he lifted a hand and let the back of his knuckles brush along your jaw.

“See, Merle? Told ya—she was diff’rent.” His hand fell away, blue eyes disappearing behind heavy lids.

“Daryl?” You said urgently, fingers searching along his neck for a pulse. It was there, albeit a little fast but there. You felt weak and allowed yourself to fall back onto your ass, scooting until your back was against the tree.

From what Carol had told you, Daryl’s brother was vile. He was toxic and the younger Dixon had changed slightly without his influence. She had said Daryl was brash and intimidating, preferred to be alone. Hated to be touched. Yet he had sought out your company twice a week like clockwork. He had talked to you, brief and unimportant statements and questions, but he had talked. He had let you touch him. Intimately.

“She’s—diff’rent.”

It was dangerous to let your mind wander down the paths it had created from his simple words to a brother who wasn’t there. But let it wander, you did. Maybe Daryl didn’t just care about the baby. Maybe he was impertinent toward you because you had gotten too close. Maybe you had managed to penetrate the walls he had built to protect himself.

Maybe—just maybe—you had allowed him to pass through your own defenses.

And that was more terrifying to you than any walking corpse in a dystopian world.

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stardew-requests · 9 months

Note

Can I get headcanons for the Bachelors and a pregnant farmer? ((Or a link to a post that you've made about the same thing that I really feel like you've made that I still can't remember))

Nothing makes my heart happier than the Stardew bachelors as dads! Thanks for the request Anon!

This one's long post! I put it under the cut!

Alex: In some regard, he still views himself as a teenager, so upon learning that the farmer was pregnant he had a moment of panic. Okay, it was more than just a moment. "What are we going to do? My grandma's going to be so disappointed!" He'd say, pacing back a forth. The farmer would just shake their head. "Alex, we're married. I don't think it'll be much of a scandal". It took some time to really register that he was going to be a father, but when it finally clicked a few weeks in, he begins to get excited. He takes initiative on prepping the nursery and goes above and beyond with helping on the farm. At his core, he's determined to be that father he never had; the one that every kid deserves.

Elliott: He is extremely attentive, almost excessively. Every need, every craving, every appointment or exam, he's there without hesitation. The farmer never has to doubt whether or not he'll be there, because he was fully involved from the moment they told him they were expecting. It had always been a dream of his to be a father, and it had finally come to fruition. So he was there for every moment of the pregnancy, good and bad. And the moment he held that baby for the first time? No painting or song or any piece of art was ever as beautiful as that moment.

Harvey: Being a doctor, Harvey was completely ready, medically speaking. However, no amount of medical school or field work could've prepared him for the intense emotions that overcame him the moment he found out he was going to be a father. Pure joy flooded over him, but also crippling worry. What if he panicked during the delivery? What if something went wrong? How could he live with himself if something did go wrong and he wasn't able to help? The farmer, while worried to a lesser degree, became the rock he needed to be both an attentive doctor and a caring husband. And, of course, he excelled at both.

Sam: Poor Sam didn't see this one coming. The pregnancy was a surprise, and the farmer was overjoyed, but Sam had no idea how to react at first. Of course he was ecstatic; he'd often daydream of being a father. Taking care of Vincent all those years had given him a real paternal touch. But he was also nervous. What would his mom say? Would his dad be disappointed in him? Would he grow apart from his friends? The situation took some getting used to, but after he overcame the initial shock he let the excitement take over. He went to every single checkup with the farmer and bought LOADS of baby things to prepare the nursery. And you believe he absolutely spoils that baby.

Sebastian: In his younger years, Sebastian fully believed he never wanted to be a father. He didn't think he was cut out for it. But after meeting the farmer, the idea began to grow on him. He liked the idea of being a stay-at-home dad on the farm. So when the farmer told him the news, he immediately knew he was ready to fall right into the role. Not having his own dad around (and the coldness he received from Demetrius all his life) made him dead-set on being the most attentive and loving man he could be. For both the baby and the farmer.

Shane: Shane had convinced himself that he'd never get that chance to be a father, with the exception of Jas of course, and he'd come to terms with that long ago. It was only after recovery and the blooming relationship with the farmer that he dared to imagine the possibility of a child of his own. When the time came that the farmer told him of their pregnancy, they were worried that he wouldn't react well. Though he'd come a long way in his recovery, he was still fragile. But the farmer wouldn't have guessed that he'd bury his head in his hands and become choked up. "Shane?" They'd ask carefully, worried he was going to break down. But he just shakes his head, looks up at the farmer, and says "I'm so happy".

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